Month: February 2021

Carry the Fire

‘Sin will be rampant everywhere, and the love of many will grow cold’ – Jesus, Matthew 24:12 (NLT)

Cormac McCarty’s The Road is as darkly dystopian a novel as you will find.  It tells the story of a man and his son struggling to survive in a post-apocalyptic world that is literally cold and growing colder.  It is a world with few survivors attempting to escape cannibalistic bands of men.  If this sounds awful, it is, but the story is nonetheless touching and beautiful.  Hope abounds, as father and son hold on to one another, loving each other deeply from the heart, learning together what it means to live with faith.  Throughout the novel, the father encourages his son with a simple phrase: carry the fire.  The world around them is dark and hopeless, but they carry within them a spark of life they dare not, will not, allow the world to quench.  This is how to survive in a cold world that is growing colder: you ‘carry the fire.’ 

I’ve been meditating the past several weeks on a familiar passage from Paul’s second letter to his son in the faith Timothy.  It goes like this:

‘For a time is coming when people will no longer listen to sound and wholesome teaching. They will follow their own desires and will look for teachers who will tell them whatever their itching ears want to hear. They will reject the truth and chase after myths.  But you should keep a clear mind in every situation. Don’t be afraid of suffering for the Lord. Work at telling others the Good News, and fully carry out the ministry God has given you’ – 2 Timothy 4:3-5. 

I’ve known those words for as long as I can remember.  But they have never felt more apt than they do now.  We live in a time when facts do not matter.  People are following the darkest inclinations of their hearts and accepting as true any cockamamie theory that justifies their expression.  They are indeed rejecting truth and embracing strange myths (e.g., Q Anon, Pizza gate, The Steal).  Elected leaders – and religious leaders – who consciously know better go along with such insanity, believing that they can use said dark expressions to forge political coalitions to remain in, and expand upon, their positions of power.  Sin has been part of the world since the Fall, but ours is a time of descending shadow.  We face the sort of days Jesus warned about.  Sin is rampant everywhere, and the love of many is growing colder by the minute. 

How does one live in such a world? 

Carry the fire. 

That is Paul’s advice to Timothy, his son in the faith.  Not in so many words, but it’s what he means. 

He breaks his advice down into four main points.    

First, we must keep a clear head in every situation.  Rudyard Kipling’s famous poem, A Father’s Advice to his Son, begins, ‘if you can keep your head about you, when others are losing theirs and blaming it on you…’  That seems to sum things up well.   People around us have lost their heads.  But disciples of Jesus must not lose theirs.  We must, as the author of Hebrews puts it, keep our eyes fixed upon Jesus.  While others wander into myths, we must remain deeply rooted in the way, truth, and life of our Lord.  We must, as Rich Mullins sang years ago, continue as the children who love while the nations rage.

Second, we must not be afraid of suffering.  Too many believers have been silent in these times, fearful of the repercussions of speaking truth into the darkness.  Church leaders have feared losing their flocks, ministries, or positions.  Ordinary believers (as if there were such a thing!) fear losing friends and community standing.  Folks, if we’re fearful of such things now, what will we do when things get worse?  Paul wrote to Timothy from prison, awaiting his own death.  The very next verses in his letter tell of how he was being poured out as a drink offering for his faith.  Yet Paul was not afraid of suffering.  He knew it was part of what can happen when you live faithfully for Jesus.  Flannery O’Connor put her finger on the problem of people who don’t understand this basic truth when she wrote, ‘they think faith is a big electric blanket, when of course it is a cross.’  As believers living in a world that is cold and growing colder, we had better be prepared to pick up ours and follow Jesus.  We cannot be afraid. If the world is to find hope beyond the darkness of our times, we must do what we have been called to do. 

Third, we are to work at telling others the Good News.  Some translations put this, ‘do the work of an evangelist.’  An evangelist is one who proclaims Good News.  We who follow Jesus have the best news of all and have been empowered to share it far and wide.  The Kingdom has come.  There is another way to live.  We need not be captive to either strange myths or our darkest impulses.  People must know this. We must stand at the crossroads and live out the values of the Kingdom, pointing the world to Jesus and his way.  To paraphrase N.T. Wright, it is our call to preach hope wherever there is hopelessness, justice wherever there is injustice, peace wherever there is violence, and love wherever there is hatred.  We are to preach Jesus, incarnate, crucified, and resurrected to a world that is cold and growing colder, that it might find the warmth it needs to thrive again. 

And finally, we are to fully complete the ministry that God has given us.  This will be different for each of us.  But every Christian has a ministry.  Whatever it is, whether it is running a global ministry, pastoring a small church, caring for a handicapped child, preserving the beauty of God’s creation, loving the neighbor across the street, or any number of other wonderful things, we are to continue to bloom wherever God has planted us until we are directed to another mission field or else our race has run.  God will show us, each day, what he desires us to do.  Ours is to draw close to him, discern his will, and perform whatever task he gives.  In a world that is cold and growing colder, this may seem to not make much difference at times.  No matter.  We must be faithful to the end.  We must do what is right.  We must follow the lead of our Lord and Savior. And trust the rest to him. 

This is how we live in times such as ours.  We do not give up.  We fight the good fight.  We finish the course.  We keep the faith.  We pass on the torch of faith to those who come behind us.  Just as those who carried it faithfully in the past passed it along to us. 

The world is dark and cold my friends, and things may get darker and colder still in days to come.

Carry the fire.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

It’s Time to Abandon the Empire

‘Whenever the Spirit of God blows like a hurricane through Christian history, it is through prophets and lovers who have surrendered unconditionally to the folly of the Cross’ – Brennan Manning

It was tough living in first century Palestine, at least if you were a faithful Jew.  Herod the Great, and his sons after him, collaborated with Rome to impose Greco-Roman politics and culture upon Israel with evangelistic fervor. The way of Herod, aka the way of empire, the way of wielding power from above to impose one’s will upon those below, was having its way throughout the land. This was the world of Jesus.

In his book, The Jesus Way, Eugene Peterson points out something rather remarkable about Jesus and his time: despite the virtual omnipresence of the Roman Empire and its puppet kings, Jesus pretty much went about his business as if they didn’t exist. Only once did he briefly mention the emperor (Mark 12:17), and it was the same with the house of Herod (Luke 13:32).  He called Herod Antipas a ‘fox,’ which was just enough of an insult to let everyone know what he thought of that family’s wily political ways. Not that he was unaffected by these miscreants. He certainly was. His birth in Bethlehem was brought about by imperial edict. As a toddler he fled with his refugee family to escape Herod’s mania.  As a craftsman in Nazareth he felt the financial pinch of the empire’s oppressive taxation. As an itinerant preacher he walked among centurions and soldiers who jealously eyed him with suspicion.   And at the end of his life he was deemed a political enemy of the state and crucified under orders of the Roman Governor Pilate.  Even his grave was guarded by Roman soldiers. From birth to death, Jesus life was ramed by the politics and policies of empire. 

But he never let the empire dictate the course of his life.  He simply swam in its waters (without ‘getting wet,’ i.e., being contaminated by them) as he heeded the voice of his Father.  Never once did he seek to use the empire’s power to further his message. He never petitioned it for a redress of grievances (though the Gospels show evidence of other religious leaders doing just that). He never asked Herod to implement just laws or further the Kingdom of God on earth. It is striking that during the greatest injustice ever perpetrated, his own arrest and trial, he never once asked either Herod or Pilate for mercy.  In fact, he was silent before Herod, and largely so before Pilate.  To the latter he would only say that his Kingdom didn’t operate along the lines of power politics and violence, as Pilate’s did, and that in any event his life was in his Father’s hands, not Rome’s. In other words, even when the regents of the world stood before him and asked for his input on the subject of his own death, he pretty much ignored them. 

This is not to say he never addressed the powers of his day.  On the contrary, he challenged them at every turn. His every move in life was, in a sense, a political act; a statement in word or action that decried the way of empire and violence. But he never employed the ways and means of the empire to make his case. He never sought political power or assistance. He never enmeshed himself, even to the slightest degree, in the empire’s methods. He simply went about his Father’s business, strolling about the dominion of the empire, showing everyone another way to change the world.

There are of course many reasons why he took this approach. But most crucial is that empire simply wasn’t his Father’s way. His Fathers way was (and is) the way of the Cross, which Paul described as the wisdom of God and the power of God (1 Corinthians 1:24). Jesus knew that using the ways and means of empire to make the world a better place would be useless. Might as well try to make the sun rise in the west. The empire was the empire was the empire, and always would be. There was nothing to gain by becoming entangled with it and everything to lose. Get involved in the empire, pursue its ways, and you’ll only end up talking, looking, and smelling like the empire. You might gain at least a part of the world, but in the process lose your own soul (Mark 8:36). Much better, and ultimately far more effective, to follow the way of the Cross.

Such thoughts race through my mind today in the wake of Donald Trump’s second acquittal in the Senate, supposedly the ‘greatest deliberative body on earth.’  We all knew how it would end. And we were right. If you were hoping for another outcome you were fooling yourself. You were counting on an empire to do the right thing. But an empire is an empire is an empire. It never does the right thing. Maybe once in a blue moon it makes a move in the right direction.  Even a blind pig will occasionally find a truffle.  But in the end, the forces of empire, the power players who long to impose their will on those below them, always manage to get their way. It was empire that created the system after all, and it works exactly the way empire intends. 

I’ve spent several years now lamenting and fighting the empire, or at least the version known as Trumpism.  But after everything that’s happened, Trumpism is still alive, still menacing the nation in the wake of insurrection. I will continue to stand against it, of course, but in coming days I’m going to do better at remembering the tactics of Jesus. I’m resolving to spend less time paying attention to what the empire is doing. Sure, I will vote. I will speak out about issues that matter. I will stand against racism, seek solidarity with the vulnerable, work to preserve the beauty of God’s creation, lots of things.  I may even show up at a protest or two. But I am not going to expend the best parts of myself watching and worrying about the minutiae of what the empire is doing, thinking that by doing so I can somehow will it to do the right thing. The vote today proves what I really knew all along.  It never will.   

So, instead, I’m going to follow the way of the cross. I’m going to stroll around the dominion of empire doing my best to show everyone another way to change the world. I’m going to try to be more like my Jesus (I am well aware of how far I fall short of that standard), the one who went about his business of challenging the empire and its ways without seeming to notice it. My life will still be lived in the shadow of the beast, as his was, and in some ways shaped by the beast’s designs and machinations. But I will not waste my time worrying about those designs and machinations. I will instead seek my Fathers will and place myself in his hands. I will live by the creed of another Kingdom, not the Pilatian, Herodian, or Trumpian kingdoms of the world.   

Will doing this make a difference? I have no idea.  It really isn’t any of my concern. In the inside cover of my Bible I have taped a quote from Brother Dominique, a friend and mentor of the late Brennan Manning. It reads:

‘All that is not the love of God has no meaning for me.  I can truthfully say that I have no interest in anything but the love of God which is in Christ Jesus.  If God wants it to, my life will be useful through my word and witness.  If he wants it to, it will bear fruit through my prayers and sacrifices.  But the usefulness of my life is His concern, not mine.  It would be indecent of me to worry about that.’[1]

It’s time to get out of the shallow end of the pool and live that statement to the full.

Let the chips fall where they may. I will trust God and follow Jesus.  I will follow the way of the Cross.

As Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw say, ‘enough with the donkeys and elephants. It’s time for the Lamb.’

It’s time to abandon the empire. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] From All is Grace, by Brennan Manning.

Signposts

‘It’s all a muddle’ – Stephen Blackpool, in Charles Dickens Hard Times

How naïve we were. 

Many of us thought, or at least hoped, that after January 20th, things would return to ‘normal.’  The Q Anon conspiracy would vanish.  The Proud and Boogaloo Boys?  They’d put down their guns and take up needlepoint.  The tens of millions who drank the Trumpian Kool-Aid?  They’d all join hands with the other side and sing Kumbaya.    The 197 members of Congress who voted to overturn an election would apologize.  The ringleaders, in both Congress and the former Administration, who actively worked to incite an insurrection would be held accountable.  Trump would be convicted of impeachment charges in the Senate.  White Evangelical ‘Christians’ who had made the devils bargain, exchanging their values for power, would fall on their faces and cry out to God for forgiveness.  White Supremacists would have an epiphany.  And the cult of Donald Trump would come to an abrupt and sudden end.  

Ok, maybe we didn’t think all that would happen.  But we at least hoped that major progress would be quickly made. 

Instead, almost the exact opposite is happening.  Q Anon is thriving, within the very halls that its adherents and allies attacked a mere matter of weeks ago.  Militia groups are arming (so much for needlepoint).  Trump fans are, well, still Trump fans.  Republicans in Congress are siding with those who lied about the election (not all mind you, just 90% of them).  The ringleaders have not only not been held accountable, but it looks like they will all get off scot free.  Trump will, barring a miracle, not be convicted by the Senate.  The aforementioned white Evangelicals are doubling down on the devil’s bargain.  White supremacy is going strong.  And the cult of Trump is nursing its wounds and planning a comeback for its master ‘in some form.’

The truth is that the country is mess.  Evil lingers still.  It will be back. One of America’s two major parties is choosing the path of insane conspiracy theories, lies, hate, and authoritarian tactics. [1]  It feels as if we stand on the edge of a dark abyss, and it is only a matter of time before we are pulled in.  It seems as if we are captives to our times, and there is little we can do about it as we watch dark events unfold. 

What are people of goodwill to do?  What, most particularly, are followers of Jesus to do? 

The answer is simple.  Live.  We are to live, knowing that we are not captives to our times.  We are the keepers of a better future.  We know that no matter what happens in the coming years, in the end, Julian of Norwich will be proven correct: ‘all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.’  I have been struck as of late by the words by the late Francis Schaffer, a theologian who wrote extensively about the ongoing suffering and evil of our world, and the responsibility of the Christian who lives within it.  We are not to just resign ourselves as captives to our times, or to lay down and die in the face of the evil around us, any more than we are to join such evil.  We are to live in the midst of said evil differently, in the direction of what we know the future will be, in the direction of a world made new by the love and grace of God at the return of Jesus.  Schaffer wrote:

‘Wars will continue until the Prince of Peace comes, but we must pursue harmony now.  Hunger and poverty will remain until the Bread of Life returns, but we must still care for those in need now.  Sin will permeate this earth until the Spotless Lamb arrives, but we must preach forgiveness now.  Our actions today should be driven by our knowledge of what is to come.’ 

He is so right.  Yes, the world is a mess.  But we have been called to live as ‘citizens of heaven’ (Philippians 2:27), ‘strangers and exiles on earth’ (Hebrews 11:13) waiting for the better world that Christ will one day bring.  We are not captives of our times; we are liberated to live the in the light of the future that will be.  Even when the world around us is a total mess. 

Stephen Blackpool is one of my favorite Dickensian characters.  He is a mere ‘hand,’ a cog in a vast industrial machine, with little power or influence in a society ruled by misguided men.  ‘It’s all a muddle,’ he says, over and again, as he tries to figure things out.  He laments that there is nothing he can think of to make things better.  But at one point he grasps that carrying on in the way of the world will never work. He says: 

‘I cannot, with my little learning and my common way, tell you what will make all this better…but I can tell you what won’t.  The strong hand will never do it.  Victory and triumph will never do it.  Believing your side is unnaturally and always forever right, and the other side unnaturally always and forever wrong…will never do it till the Sun turns to ice.’[2]

Stephen is on to something.  The world is a muddle.  In our day as well as his.  Behaving like the world will never make anything better.  Power politics will never do it.  Winning at all costs, selling your values for power, will never do it.  Demonizing those you disagree with, to the point of violence, as so many do today, will never do it.  All of this is the way of empire.  The way of hate.  The way of vengeance. 

But living as children of light in a world of darkness, now that’s something.  Living as signposts that point to a better day that is to come, that might make a difference.  Living as those who believe in justice.  Living as peacemakers.  Living as truth tellers.  Living as those who love while those around us rage.  Those things just might make all the difference in the world. 

The world may be a mess, and maybe we can’t arrange all the improvements we would like.  Probably not.  But we can live as signposts pointing to coming day.  A day that, as followers of Jesus, we know is coming soon. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] I should add that even if the government stays ‘blue,’ that doesn’t rid us of evil.  Blue or Red (or yellow or purple for that matter), empires are empires.  They are inherently power seeking and corrupt (though under present circumstances, I’d prefer Blue over Red any day of the week). 

[2] Stephen speaks with a heavy accent.  With apologies to Mr. Dickens, I’ve cleaned it up to make it easier to understand.  I still love the original.