Fall Into The Spokes

"It appeared as if the whole world was one elaborate system, opposed to justice and kindness, and set to making cruelty and pain. And he and his father were part of that system, and must help to maintain it in spite of themselves." -from Oil! by Upton Sinclair

The he in this passage is Bunny, the son of an oil man in Upton Sinclair's novel Oil!, which has recently been adapted by P.T. Anderson into the film There Will Be Blood.

The focus of the Sinclair novel (more than the film) is on the character of Bunny and his struggle to come to terms with a systemic greed that those he loves and admires assure him is simply indicative of "the way things are".

Whether in books I have read more recently (Wayward Christian Soldiers by Charles Marsh) or recent and beloved classics (The Powers That Be by Walter Wink or The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer) or in my recent study of scripture through the season of Advent and Epiphany, I continue to be reminded of how much of Christ's warning to "repent, for the Kingdom is at hand" was a railing against the failed powers, authorities, and systems that mankind has created. I am challenged, as someone who claims to follow Christ, to refuse to perpetuate a system simply because it is "the way things are". I am called, if I am called by the Prince of Peace, to refuse to give creedence to any credo that places the words "necessary" and "evil" too closely together.

While German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously and heroically (he was eventually killed) opposed Hitler and the Nazi regime, he wrote that, as Christians, we are commanded "not only to help the victims who have fallen under the wheel, but to fall into the spokes of the wheel itself".

Joni Mitchell once wrote, in her tribute to Woodstock (the event, not the bird), "I feel to be a cog in something turning." Years later, when asked about Woodstock and all it represented, she famously stated, "Who cares? We failed."

Maybe the failure is in a refusal to back our songs up with sacrifice. Maybe we're meant to do more than lament our fate and the fate of the world. Maybe we're meant to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, footsteps that lead to a cross. Maybe we say to those opposed to justice and kindness that we will no longer be a part of that system or help to maintain it. Maybe we make the choice to stop being a cog and instead fall into the spokes.

In Micah chapter 3, the prophet states:

This is what the LORD says:
"As for the prophets
who lead my people astray,
if one feeds them,
they proclaim 'peace';
if he does not,
they prepare to wage war against him.

Therefore night will come over you, without visions,
and darkness, without divination.
The sun will set for the prophets,
and the day will go dark for them.

The seers will be ashamed
and the diviners disgraced.
They will all cover their faces
because there is no answer from God."

It is time to stop leading people astray. It is time to stop waging war. We must stop declaring peace where there is no peace. We must stop scratching the back of cruelty and pain simply because it scratches our itch for security and power. If we are accused of biting the hand that feeds us, then we should turn somewhere else for sustenance. Turn to the God who causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.

It is time to back our words up with action before the night comes over us and we have nothing more to say. It is time for those who claim Jesus as Lord to turn back to His teachings to love our enemies and to care for the poor. It is time to stop claiming God is with us if we refuse to be with Him. It is time to "act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly" with our God.

It is time to "repent, for the Kingdom is at hand."

Theological Worldview Quiz

You scored as a Neo-Orthodox

You are neo-orthodox. You reject the human-centredness and scepticism of liberal theology, but neither do you go to the other extreme and make the Bible the central issue for faith. You believe that Christ is God's most important revelation to humanity, and the Trinity is hugely important in your theology. The Bible is also important because it points us to the revelation of Christ. You are influenced by Karl Barth and P T Forsyth.

Neo orthodox 82% Emergent/Postmodern 68% Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan 64% Reformed Evangelical 43% Roman Catholic 39% Fundamentalist 36% Charismatic/Pentecostal 36% Modern Liberal 29% Classical Liberal 25%

I Love You

Before bed every night, we have an evening routine with my son, Harry. Certain things always happen during this routine. Stories, prayers, songs. One of which is always "Jesus Loves Me".

Because, as Harry grows older, it will be important for him to know points of theology and doctrine and certain things about God and what it means to follow Him and how to approach scripture and so on and so forth. But what he needs to know first and always is this...Jesus loves him.

I may believe in sin and death and the Fall and God and Jesus and the Trinity and I may believe in right and wrong and even that very specific things are always right or always wrong and I may need to make these things known to you, but not before I have made thing perfectly clear...Jesus loves you.

There's a lot of things that I know, as a Christian, that I think it is important (even vital) for others to know. For years I was convinced that it was my job, as a Christian, to make sure that those I came into contact with knew and believed the things that I knew and believed or at least knew that I knew and believed them. And I still, as I just said, believe that it is important that otehrs know and believe many of the things that I have come to know and believe.

That said, I am increasingly convinced that, if I am walking in the Way of Jesus and you only know one thing about me, it should be this...that I love you.

If you are a Christian walking around in this world and trying to walk in the Way of Christ and feeling like there is so much that those who you know need to know about Jesus and about what you believe about Him, remember that there is one thing that they need to know first...that you love them because Christ loves them and because He loves you.

Because it may be cliche, but it's true; they won't care how much you know until they know how much you care.

Nobody Loves Me

I don't know if you have ever read Charles Marsh. If you haven't (as I hadn't, until recently), I highly recommend picking up any and all of his books, especially The Beloved Community and, his most recent work, Wayward Christian Soldiers. Marsh is a professor of religion at the University of Virginia and has a firm grip on what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

I mention him, first, so that his readership might increase and, secondly, because of an amazing quote I read today in Wayward Christian Soldiers. Marsh states: "Evangelicals in the United States have tried so hard to become relevant that we have forgotten what it means to be peculiar."

Marsh isn't saying that the Way of Jesus doesn't have relevance or that it shouldn't speak to a cultural context (Jesus himself spoke in accessible parables about farmers and seeds and bread and fields), but that our end goal shouldn't be a desire to fit in.

And this is hard for me. Not because I'm overly enamored with the power and position that bowing to pressure might get me, but simply because...and I hate to admit this...I really want you to like me.

Singer/songwriter Derek Webb once wrote a song titled "Nobody Loves Me". In it's cry out to God chorus, Webb sings:

I don't care if nobody loves me...but You

Of course, what you hear in his voice is the same thing you hear in mine. I do care. I just wish that I didn't.

Again, not that my goal as a Christian is not to care, any more than it's to be irrelevant. But my goal is not to want the approval of others so much that I would sacrifice the weirdness of Jesus. The weirdness that calls for poverty as well as purity. The peculiarity that avoids drunkenness alongside violence. The kind of strange behavior that is bound to freak out folks on either side of the aisle.

I live in a city that places a high market value on its weirdness. But I'm not sure we're any more ready for Jesus than the Dallas suburbs are. Because His call is too out there. It sacrifices too much, hopes for too much, forgives too much, and loves too much. So much that I was once accused of teaching people to "love to an unnatural extreme". All I had done was teach a class on the Sermon On The Mount.

Of course, saying "all I had done" is like saying "Jesus just died on a cross" and that all He wants us to do is to take up our own cross and follow Him.

Frederick Buechner puts it this way in Faces of Jesus:
"If the world is sane, then Jesus is mad as a hatter and the Last Supper is the Mad Tea Party. The world says, Mind your own business, and Jesus says, There is no such thing as your own business. The world says, Follow the wisest course and be a success, and Jesus says, Follow me and be crucified. The world says, Drive carefully--the life you save may be your own, and Jesus says, Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. The world says, Law and order, and Jesus says, Love. The world says, Get, and Jesus says, Give. In terms of the world's sanity, Jesus is crazy as a coot, and anybody who thinks he can follow him without being a little crazy too is laboring less under a cross than under a delusion."

This stuff is dangerous. It's peculiar. It's weird. And if we take it seriously, we should be prepared for those that don't like it, those that don't like us, anymore than they liked Him. We should know that His Way is a threat to all others ways, ways of war and greed and injustice and selfishness. That many people and the powers that be won't want Him around any more than they did 2000 years ago. That the people most receptive to our message may be those we least want to reach out to. That Jesus cannot make us cool, He will not make powerful, and is sure to make us weird.

And that's ok.

Because I don't care if nobody loves me...but You.

WWYD?

I have this problem. It's this thing that I care about deeply, but don't know how to address without seeming like I'm addressing it. And I can't seem like I'm addressing it. Because that seems...well...

Let's start again.

Years ago, when I was still in college, a group of friends went to a Promise Keepers rally. I knew very little about Promise Keepers at the time, know even less now (does Promise Keepers still exist?) and wasn't interested in tagging along. However, I did hear a story of something that happened at the end of the rally.

A speaker stood up and began to address the fact that Promise Keepers rallies tended to look...rather...well...white. And he saw this as a problem. And he'd come up with a solution. The following year, every man who came back to the Promise Keepers rally was to bring a friend of color.

I'm not going to lie. I heard this story and was embarassed. Embarassed for the guy, embarassed for my friends, embarassed by the idea. I vocalized my embarassment as sharp critique and a debate soon ensued. Who wants to be the token "friend of color"?, I exclaimed. How demeaning is it to ask someone along so that they can help you fulfill your obligation?

To which my friends replied with a simple (and important) question:

What would you do?

And my simple answer is...I don't know.

Because we have a problem in the church. Statistics show that the time when our nation is most racially divided during any given week is for those few hours on Sunday morning. And that simply cannot be. We can't claim to have unity in Christ alone and diversity in everything else and then perpetuate a bunch of economically and racially and politically divided churches.

But we do. And as a pastor and church planter, I feel this keenly. And I want to address it. I want to change it. I want people who walk into the Immanuel Community to witness a diversity so great that only Jesus could bring it together. I don't want white, middle-class folks to walk in and say, "oh good, I belong here" simply because they see a bunch of other white, middle-class folks.

But I can't set up a booth and start recruiting various races. And I'm not going to host "bring a friend of color Sunday". So what should I do? I can't answer the question much better than I did a decade ago. But I can ask your advice. Assuming you see the racial divide in churches as a significant problem, one that Jesus would find intolerable, my question to you is this:

What would you do?

Home By Another Way

I’ve been making mix tapes for years. Recently, they have evolved into mix cds, but the concept has stayed the same. A collection of songs that connect the receiver to the giver (me).

Every year since my son, Harry, was born, I have made him a mix of songs. Year one didn’t really register. Year two, he didn’t seem to care. But this year was, perhaps, the best response I have ever received to a mix that I have made.

Harry wanted to sit, song after song, and talk about why they were on his cd. What did they mean? Why were they important? The last song on the album (minus the “Larry Boy Theme Song” bonus track) was a standout. As Iron & Wine’s cover of “Such Great Heights” seeped out of the speakers, Harry looked at me with a knowing smile and asked, “What’s this song?”

A knowing smile, because Harry knows the significance of this song. This is the song I sang to calm him down the first time I ever held him. This is the song that shows up on Harry’s mix every year. This was the gift I gave to him when he was born.

On the heels of Christmas, I’m reminded this week of births and gifts and their meaning, because this marks the celebration of Epiphany. The story of Epiphany is the story of the Magi, the story of those who first declared Jesus to be “King of the Jews”. It’s a story that I am tempted to remember with the same fuzziness that I remember my own son’s birth. We all tend to imbue it with the same warm and cozy feel.
But this story isn’t any more warm and fuzzy than the Christmas story is. It, like the Christmas story, is a revolutionary one. The light of the Epiphany is political dynamite.

That’s because the gifts that the Magi bring to Jesus aren’t the kind of gifts you bring to a baby, they’re the kind you bring to a king. In their giving of gifts, the Magi declare that Jesus is the true king, the Messiah.
What makes this declaration so provocative is that they have been commissioned by another king to bring news of Jesus back to him. King Herod hopes to discover Jesus’ whereabouts, in order that he might kill Jesus.

So, in declaring that Jesus is King of the Jews the Magi call out Herod as a usurper and imposter. Herod hopes that they will be his representatives and co-conspirators, but they are warned in a dream of King Herod’s scheme and go home by another way. They are offered a choice of king and they choose Jesus.

Today is no different. The Powers That Be want our loyalty. They want to make our choices for us. They want Jesus brought to them in order that they might use Him for their own purposes and, ultimately, destroy Him. This is because His rule is a threat to all others. The beginning of His Kingdom means the end of all others.

The story of Jesus’ birth consistently mirrors the story of His death. Just as Herod hopes the Magi will act as his representatives, so Pilate acts as Caesar’s. Pilate’s soldiers are the first since the Magi to declare Jesus “King of the Jews”. Pilate also receives a warning in a dream not to do any harm to Jesus. But Pilate’s choice is different. The gifts he bestows are a crown of thorns and a cross. Pilate will choose to hand Jesus over to die. The Magi will choose another way.

In the mid-80’s, singer/songwriter James Taylor wrote a song called “Home By Another Way” which includes a verse that serves as advice for all of us:

Steer clear of royal welcomes
Avoid a big to-do
A king who would slaughter the innocents
Will not cut a deal for you
He really, really wants those presents
He’ll comb your camel’s fur
Until his boys announce they’ve found trace amounts
Of your frankincense, gold and myrrh

And so, as we remember this Epiphany, we stand in the sandals of the Magi and are offered a choice. The choice whether to sell Jesus out for money and power and security or to sell ourselves out to Him. The words of Joshua echo through the ages “Choose you this day who you will serve.” The words of Christ Himself remind us that we can give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, but we must never give him what is God’s.

Every day of our lives, the Powers that Be demand our loyalties. Every day of our lives, Christ offers us a choice between kings.

So, as we enter into a new year, let us choose this day who we will serve. Let us prepare our best gifts and our very selves and offer them to Jesus as tribute to a King. Let us make the choice to go home by another way, the Way of Jesus Christ our Lord.