Thursday, October 30, 2008

Come November 5. . .

At this point in election season, I typically grow tired of it all. The incessant ads begin to annoy me, the minute-by-minute polls wear me out, and the constant “expert” analysis on TV and radio becomes nothing more than white noise. It’s not that I don’t care, or don’t want to be involved in the process – I just have a limited attention span and want to get on with it, already. And to be honest, I think another reason I grow weary at the end is the message of fear and pessimism that becomes so increasingly common at this stage. Both sides try to make the case that we cannot let the other side win, because if they do, all will be lost and the world, as we know it, will end.

What’s both interesting and troubling to me is how Christians and Christian organizations allow themselves to become driven by fear and begin to rely on the same fear-based message. A couple of weeks ago, I received an email from a well-known organization stating that if certain individuals win this election:

America as we have known it will no longer exist. This country that we love, founded on Judeo-Christian values, will cease to exist and will be replaced by a secular state hostile to Christianity. This “city set on a hill” which our forefathers founded, will go dark. The damage will be deep and long lasting. It cannot be turned around in the next election, or the one after that, or by any election in the future. The damage will be permanent.

Yikes - that’s some bleak and scary stuff. In my reaction to that statement and its view of faith and politics, I in no way want to seem judgmental, demeaning, or dismissive toward those who share these sentiments. I do not question their heart, their faith, their motives, or their integrity. I also have no intention of making a political statement, endorsement, or prediction of any kind. My concern is with the approach and the perceived attitude conveyed by statements such as this. Personally, I struggle with the followers of Jesus resorting to fear and casting a shadow of hopelessness. With all respect, I choose not to follow in that path, and here are my reasons:
  • The true "city set on a hill" is not equivalent to or dependent upon any earthly nation or government. The Body of Christ is called to be the "city set on a hill," and that city will not "go dark" because of any election on this earth. Come November 5, regardless of who has won and who has lost, the followers of Jesus will still be here, and they will continue to love and serve as light in the darkness. Throughout the history of the Church, no ruler or government has ever been able to stop the movement of God's Kingdom, and they never will.

  • The true hope for our world is not found in governments, courts, or legislation, but the transforming love and grace of God. The systems of this world do not have the power to change hearts, restore lives, and heal families. Our God is the One who gives life, restores the broken, heals the hurting, and makes all things new. Come November 5, regardless of who has won and who has lost, our God will still be living, present, and active in our world. On that day, and for all days to come, He will continue to carry out His gracious work of redemption in and through people like us.

  • The true call placed on our lives is to pick up the cross and follow Jesus for the sake of His Kingdom. To be motivated by the fear of a "secular state hostile to Christianity" suggests a self-concern that misses the mark of our call. It implies that our concern and efforts are aimed at our own comfort and security within society; it hints at the possibility that we cannot bear the thought of living from the margins of society rather than the comfortable mainstream. Jesus did not call us to fight for a comfortable position in the culture, the avoidance of personal insult and persecution, or the backing of the government; He called us to lay down our lives, to know that we are blessed when we face rejection and persecution for His sake, and to trust that there is an all-surpassing power from God at work in these jars of clay. Come November 5, regardless of who has won and who has lost, our call will remain the same, and the power of God's Spirit will continue to uphold and enable those who are willing to follow. The purposes of His Kingdom will always be accomplished by the way of the cross, the path of love and sacrifice, and not by the power or means of earthly nations.

While I recognize the significance of these decisions, and I realize our need for prayerful involvement, I have also come to believe that God's Kingdom must not be equated with the political business of this world. I will earnestly pray and vote my conscience, and I trust you will do the same. But through it all, may we remember that God's position and purpose are not dependent on the elections of any earthly nation, including ours. Despite the rhetoric that seems to suggest otherwise, He is not on the ballot - He will still be God come November 5.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Good Intentions; Wrong Approach - Part III

Okay - allow me one more post on this whole matter of being salt and light in the world, and then I promise to move on. On second thought, promise might be too strong - I'll try to move on. How's that?

Beyond the issue of being versus simply doing, there is an essential quality and reality about salt and light that we have, by and large, neglected. We have too easily overlooked the fact that salt and light must be present to make a difference. A light in one room does not impact the room down the hall with its door closed. Salt in a container does not impact food on the table. To make any difference in the environment, to have any hope of bringing transformation, salt and light must be present and engaged. Nothing is changed or achieved through isolation.

It seems to me that our dependence on the world's means and systems of operation has not led us to a greater or more transformational presence in the world; in fact, it may have enhanced our isolation. Our political activism, our boycotts and protests, have given us the sense that we are involved. While this is true in one sense, there is a profound difference between being involved in the systems of this world and being present as salt and light. What Jesus said in Matthew 5:16 was that the world should "see our good deeds and praise our Father in heaven." He didn't say they need to see our involvement, our activism, our protest, or our arguments - they need to see our good deeds, the acts of love, mercy, and compassion that flow from the grace of God and draw attention to Him. To be salt and light is to be a present, living reflection of Christ's love and grace to such a degree that people are attracted to the kingdom of God.

I suspect we have allowed involvement to supplant true presence. I can sign a petition without ever connecting to my neighbor. I can vote a certain way without ever serving those around me. I can forward emails about a cause, but never demonstrate love to someone that is hurting. I can easily boycott a company, but never draw someone to Christ. We convince ourselves that we are acting as salt and light, even while we fail to live out a loving and grace-filled presence among those in need. We are simply taking shots from a distance.

Am I saying that such involvement is wrong? No, I'm saying that it's insufficient and cannot fulfill our purpose. We are called to be a positive, grace-filled presence in the world that draws attention to our loving, grace-filled Savior. To be salt and light requires us to move beyond the comfort and safety of our circles, to step into our world as a reflection of Jesus, to invest in others with a spirit of love and sacrifice. The fact is, politics and protest are easy - ministry is hard work. Arguments and boycotts are simple - truly being present with those in need can get messy. Petitions and email campaigns are no sweat - laying down our lives in service is costly. We have too often opted for the easier path, exchanging true presence in our world for involvement in worldly systems that are inadequate for our mission.

Perhaps there is a deeper issue here that we do not want to face. Why do we often substitute a reliance on the world's methods and systems for the loving, serving, and engaging presence we are called to be? Here's a thought - maybe we want the government, courts, corporations, and schools to enforce our values for us so we don't have face being light in the darkness. If the systems of the world support our ideas, then the "rules" will keep everyone in line so we don't have to go out and engage our neighbors. If the government and courts uphold what we believe is right, then we can maintain the illusion that we are a part of a Christian nation, allowing us to live comfortably in our isolated circles. Maybe our real concern in so many of these efforts is not the building of the kingdom, but our own level of comfort in society. To be present as salt and light in a world that is dark and broken can be uncomfortable; it's a lot easier if the government enforces the rules for us.

The problem is, our mission is not to win arguments and force changes in behavior. We are called to bring others into a transforming relationship with Jesus, and the means and methods of this world will never be able to do that. Jesus never once indicated that the kingdoms and governments of this world were the pathway to building His kingdom. Those in the early church had no expectation of the government or courts supporting them or upholding their values, and yet they changed the world. If we are to change our world, you and I have to move beyond taking shots from a distance, stop relying on the systems of this world, and quit isolating ourselves in comfortable circles. The Jesus we claim to follow is the one who came into this world and lived among us in love, mercy, and sacrifice. To be salt and light is to do the same.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Good Intentions; Wrong Approach - Part II

In picking up the conversation from the last post, Jesus clearly issues a call to His followers in Matthew 5:13-16 to live as "salt of the earth" and "light of the world." I believe, as stated previously, that our well-intentioned attempts to do so have too often relied on the wrong tools and strategies. Instead of changing hearts and lives, we aimed for the lower goal of changing laws and policies. Rather than seeking to build the kingdom of God, we substituted the fight for a moral society. It's not that a moral society is a bad goal, or that policies and laws are not worthy of consideration; it's the fact that these things lack the power to accomplish our true mission of making disciples. If we effectively carry out our disciple-making mission, these other concerns will be influenced naturally by the transformation of lives, families, and communities. However, the opposite has proven not to be true - making the tangential goals and issues our main priority has not resulted in the formation of Jesus-following disciples.

I sense that this misdirected focus is actually a reflection of a deeper misdirection, one that is at the heart of our understanding of what it means to be salt and light. In thinking about my own understanding, and what I have so often heard preached and taught, it seems that our attempt to define salt and light rests almost entirely on what salt and light do. Salt preserves, and so we must preserve the world from decay. Light reveals, and so we have to show people the right way. While these observations are certainly true and valuable, I believe our narrow focus on doing has led us, at times, to the wrong priorities and approaches in ministry.

When we are shaped solely by the concern of how we can make the world fall in line with our values and what we do, we find ourselves driven to win arguments, elections, and culture wars. Believing our primary call is to win these battles, we resort to the world's means and methods, using political and economic power to try and force others to act right. In essence, we become activists just like any other activists - getting out the vote, signing petitions, boycotting, and protesting in an effort to win the arguments and debates. Here is the problem, as I see it: We are not called to win arguments or elections; we are called to win people to a new life through faith in Jesus. We are not called to simply change what people do; we are to call others to be with God and learn to live out the genuine love and grace of His kingdom.

If we are to be faithful to our mission as Jesus' followers, it seems that we might need to reconsider what it looks like to be salt and light in our world. Why did Jesus choose to use the metaphors of "salt" and "light" to begin with? Was His primary concern what they do or accomplish? Or, could it be, that His primary point is that salt and light simply are. Think about it. Salt does not set out to do anything - it just is. The influence of its presence is the natural result of its character. Light does not set out to do something - it just is. It makes a difference simply in its presence, by the character of its being. To be salt and light is precisely that - to be something. Maybe Jesus' point is that we are called to reflect His character, not just in what we do, but in who we are as people. Could it be that the simple presence of people who truly embody the character of Christ will bring greater transformation to our world than winning arguments or elections ever could?

When our focus is on what we do, and we believe our mission is to change what others do, we too easily lose sight of what we are called to be. We grab the tools of this world and its systems in an effort to "win" the good fight, and far too often in that process abandon the character of Christ. We can fight for the right cause, but do so in a manner that violates the spirit of love and grace. We can battle over the right behavior, but do it with words and attitudes that break the heart of Jesus. If we win the arguments, carry the election, or overturn the policy, but do it through the same means and spirit as the world, then we have denied the very nature of what it means to be salt and light. The question is much bigger than what Jesus would do; it is ultimately about what Jesus would be.

The methods of this world cannot fulfill our mission, and the use of them does not automatically vindicate us as salt and light. In humility, I admit that my indiscriminate, and often unloving, reliance upon them has too frequently served to push others away rather than draw them toward the kingdom of God. How did Jesus change the world? He did not rely on earthly means of power or force to compel the right behavior; He simply embodied love, mercy, and sacrifice. As He did, an amazing thing happened - people fell in love with Him, and they were changed. To be salt and light is to embody the same character, to be like Him in who we are, to bear the spirit of love and grace in such a way that people fall in love with Jesus.

Maybe the defining question of being salt and light is not, "How can we win?" but "How can we love like Jesus?" If that became our priority, we just might see people, families, and communities genuinely changed - regardless of who wins the election.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Good Intentions; Wrong Approach - Part I

I often have good intentions that are poorly executed. Without going into details, I can tell you from first-hand experience that laundry detergent doesn't work the same in the dishwasher, a hammer cannot be used to fix everything, and there is definitely a difference between baking soda and baking powder. (That last one relates to a particularly ugly incident involving blueberry muffins.) In every case, I had good goals and the best of intentions; unfortunately, I also had a bad plan that produced the wrong results.

Over the last several years, I have come to believe that we as evangelical Christians too often carry out good intentions with a bad plan. We rely on the wrong tools and the wrong strategy, producing results that fall far short of our purpose and mission. And rather than honestly recognizing our need for a better approach, we continue to walk down the same road, believing that somehow our good intentions will eventually produce a different result and make it all okay.

You are certainly free to disagree at this point, but I sense that evangelicals in America have too often, and mistakenly, turned to the tools of worldly power in an attempt to accomplish a spiritual goal. We have come to rely on political power, economic power, and the systems of this world as means of carrying out the mission of the Church. We want to believe that if we just get the right candidate elected, all will be well and we have done our Christian duty. We think that if we boycott a company into submission so that they change their corporate policy, we have successfully carried out the work of the Kingdom. We devote huge amounts of time and other resources to arguing with the secular world, assuming that our primary goal is to win an argument. For decades now, this has often been our approach, an approach that I admittedly have followed at different points in my own life.

While there is no doubt that we have had the best of intentions, at what point do we stop and ask, "Where has this gotten us? Is this approach accomplishing our mission?" As I look at where we are and what we have achieved in all of this, some obvious questions and answers seem to stand out: Has the church in America grown? No. Is American society more moral? No. In fact, we have lost ground on both counts. And even when we win the battle, we get our candidate elected or we get that company to change a policy, what have we truly accomplished for the Kingdom? Have we changed anyone's heart? No. Have we changed anyone's belief? No. Have we led anyone to Jesus? No.

Despite the negative answers to all these questions, we continue down the same path, patting ourselves on the back when we "win" and shaking our heads in disbelief when the world seems to slip further away from our ideals. Please understand, I am not saying that there is never a time or place for this kind of involvement. The problem, as I see it, is that we have substituted these things for ministry. Rather than engaging our world with a love and grace-filled ministry that genuinely transforms our culture, we depend on earthly means of power to force the appearance of change.

Our call is to make disciples as we daily live out the kingdom of God. The means of this world, the political and economic forces we so often rely upon, do not possess the power or ability to change hearts and build the kingdom; they are insufficient for the task. Perhaps we need to rediscover what Jesus meant when He called us to be "salt and light." What is He calling us to be and do in this world? Over the next couple of weeks, I invite you to think along with me as we consider His words to us in Matthew 5:13-16. Throughout the discussion, I realize we might disagree at points. That's okay - just remember, I have the best of intentions!

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Worrying About Caesar's Stuff

Like many of you, I have been involved in a number of conversations over the last week that centered on the financial and economic crisis facing our country. To be honest, as much as I may try to convey some sense of understanding and insight on these issues, the fact is, it's all beyond my level of understanding. All I know is that, apparently, a whole lot of people loaned a whole lot of money to a whole lot of people who can't pay it back, and now it's all come back to bite us. As you can see, God clearly did not provided me with the necessary gifts for working in the financial field. Just ask my wife - she took the checkbook away from me a long time ago due to my proven inability to keep it balanced.

But despite my lack of knowledge and understanding, one thing is obvious to me - people are afraid. Many of us find ourselves haunted by dread and uncertainty, terrified by the prospect that we might just wake up from the American dream to see our more than comfortable life-styles slip away. While such a reaction would be expected and understood within our affluent culture, it's interesting that the followers of Jesus, myself included, seem to be easily drawn into the same spirit of fear and uncertainty. I do not intend to minimize legitimate concerns, and I certainly would not belittle the pain of those who face the loss of a house or a job. The issue I raise is one of Christians living in and being driven by fear. Is it not true that the people of God's kingdom are called to build their hope and security on something greater than the kingdoms of this world? If our hope rests elsewhere, if our lives are built on a different foundation, then should we fear what others fear?

Perhaps our sense of fear and uncertainty reveals something about us, a revelation of the painful truth that we are too attached to the things of this world, too dependent on the life-style we have created, too obsessed with our own comfort and welfare. Shaped by the culture more than I care to admit, I build houses on the sand, and when the sand shifts, I am afraid.

On one occasion, when Jesus was confronted with a question about the interaction of God's people with the kingdoms of this world, He simply responded, "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's." I have often heard those words interpreted as, "Be a good citizen, be a good Christian." In other words, you have a foot in both worlds, so do what is right on both counts. Now there is certainly nothing wrong with being a good citizen, but I'm not sure that was the point Jesus was trying to make. I tend to think that Jesus was impressing on us the truth that when we are surrendered fully to the kingdom of God, we can freely let go of the wealth and power of this world. When we truly live as people of His kingdom, the issues that bring fear, concern, and conflict to the world around us do not impact us in the same way.

This is what I hear Jesus saying: If it has Caesar's picture on it, and it has Caesar's name on it, then it obviously belongs to Caesar. So let him have it - why do you care? You should be so fully devoted to God, so completely invested in His kingdom, that you can let go of this stuff without fighting and fear. Don't worry about Caesar's stuff; he can do that. Be more concerned about the fact that you belong to God.

It's one thing to express that belief when life within Caesar's realm is comfortable and profitable. It's another thing entirely to hold to that belief when the retirement account is getting hammered, the value of the house plummets, and the factory may shut down. But if we do not believe it in a time like this, can we say that we ever really believed it at all?