Category: Discipleship

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. 

Rejoicing Christians – Beware a Constantinian Moment

‘Soldiers do not get tied up in civilian life, for then they cannot please the officer who enlisted them’ – 2 Timothy 2:4 (NLT)

Those of us who bemoaned the rancorous leadership style of Donald Trump the past four years have reason to celebrate these days.  After a contentious election, the American people have collectively chosen Joe Biden to be the President of the United States.  Although Trump refuses to concede, and is already (and predictably) plotting mischief, it nonetheless appears that the long night has come to an end and a new day has dawned.  We have every reason to believe that, come January 20th, 2021, there will be a new occupant in the White House. 

As I listened to Joe Biden’s victory speech on Saturday, November 7th, I could not help but rejoice.  To hear the President-elect speak of decency and healing, after four years of trash talk and division, was refreshing to say the least.  My family and I expressed our thankfulness that this man, and not the other, had been granted the privilege of leading this country for the next four years.  We felt as if he were the right man for the right time, a grandfatherly figure who could help heal the nation’s wounds.  Where before we had little hope of progress on issues of deep concern to our family, we sensed hope rising once again.

But even as I felt hope rising, I felt the check in my heart: ‘don’t get carried away with this.’  Why?  Well, maybe the best way to explain that is to go back 1700 years in history.

 It was early in the 4th Century, and Christians had emerged from the Diocletian Persecution, one of the worst periods of persecution against the Church in its history.  While it was severe, it wasn’t anything new.  For three centuries the Church had been in Rome’s sights.  Christians were hunted, burned, thrown to the lions, and slain by gladiators.  Denied the right to freely practice their faith, they lived in fear of exposure and death.  Then, in 313 AD a Roman named Constantine won a major battle at the Milvian Bridge.  He claimed to have had a vision of the Cross and painted it on the shields of his warriors.  After he won, he credited the victory to the God of the Christians, and announced he was now one himself.  In the ensuing years, he consolidated power and became Emperor.  He legalized Christianity and made himself an ally of the church (though perhaps it would be more accurate to say he enlisted the church as an ally to bolster his empire).  In the years that followed, under Constantine’s predecessors, there was a bit of an ebb and flow to this alliance, but in the end, Christianity emerged as the official religion of the empire.  The cementation of politics and religion had been made complete. 

Christians were generally ecstatic over this change, and it isn’t difficult to understand why.  Where they were once hunted and killed, they were now coddled and exalted.  But alas, this switch came at great cost. Seduced by the power and security of empire, the Church changed dramatically.  Where once it had been nonviolent, even pacifistic, it now took up arms in service to the empire.  Where once it worked at the margins of power, with the weak and vulnerable, it now stood at the center of power, with the strong and powerful.  Where once it worked from the bottom up, transforming society from below, it now worked from the top down, controlling society from above.  Where it had once stood at the crossroads of culture, showing the world another way, that is, Jesus’ way, it now stood in the halls of power, copying the way of the world.  The Church became a servant to the empire, rather than a counter-cultural witness to it.  It became so entangled in the empire’s affairs, that it soon lost sight of what the Master was calling it to do and be. 

We have been paying the price ever since.  For 1700 years, the Church of the west has been off course, most often following the way of the dragon instead of the way of the Lamb. 

Now, to be clear, this isn’t a precise parallel to our current situation.  Christians haven’t exactly been thrown to the lions these past four years (though I hasten to add that many have been separated from their families and thrown in cages), and Biden didn’t gain power after a battle wherein he claimed to have seen a vision of Christ.  But the lesson nonetheless applies.  Christians should never align themselves with empire.  They should never entangle themselves so deeply with political power that they become unfaithful to their mission.  This principle applies across the board, to both Republican and Democratic versions of empire (or any other for that matter).  And yes, both are versions of empire.  We may prefer one over the other, but make no mistake, both seek to control from above, both employ violence to achieve their ends, and neither follows (at least not completely) in the footsteps of Jesus.  Democratic and Republican regimes are regimes of empire, and neither has a better claim to our allegiance.  Our allegiance belongs to Jesus Christ alone. 

This doesn’t mean that we can never work with government leaders, just that we need to be careful.  I recently read (for the umpteenth time) The Lord of the Rings.  (I confess to a certain thrill when I read of the fall of the Tower of Barad Dur as the election results came in).  One of my favorite characters is Treebeard, the wise old Ent who shepherds the trees of Fangorn forest.  This time around, I was struck by something Treebeard said to Merry and Pippin when asked which side of the battle he was on:

‘We might do some things together.  I don’t know about sides.  I go my own way; but your way may go along with mine for a while…I am not altogether on anybody’s side, because no one is altogether on my side, if you understand me…there are some things, of course, whose side I am altogether not on; I am against them altogether.’ 

I love those words.  They remind me that as a follower of Jesus, I should not be altogether on anyone’s side, other than His.  Still, there are some things I may be able to do with others, for our ways may travel together for a time, and there are some things, of course, on whose side I can never be.  In the real world, and particularly in this moment, this means that Christians can work with Biden and his administration on all sorts of things, the sorts of things on which our ways travel together, such as: fighting racism, helping the poor, caring for creation, restoring decency, and building bridges of understanding between people who do not agree.  These are all consistent with the way of Jesus, and to the extent we can advance them together, wonderful!  It also means that Christians may need to stand against other ‘sides’ when they, say: promote racism, neglect the poor, despoil creation, act indecently, or divide people with the politics of fear and hate.  In this season, we can look for ways to work with the ‘sides’ that promote causes consistent with the heart of God, even as we stand against the ‘sides’ that fight against those same causes. 

But we dare not make the mistake of believing that we are on the side of any political party.  We are not.  The Empire, however benevolent it may seem at a given moment, is not the Kingdom of Jesus.  Biden and the Democrats are not marching in lockstep with Kingdom values.  As the Church, Christians have a different mission and different means than those of empire.  Yes, we may do some things together, but let us not pretend we are ‘altogether on the same side.’ 

Shortly before the election, I posted two Christian ‘to do lists’ in the event that Trump or Biden won.  The point of the article was that no matter who won, our work would be the same.  Here is my list of things to do in the event Biden won (which, again is the same as if Trump won):

  1. Hope
  2. Pray
  3. Stand against racism and bigotry
  4. Speak up for immigrants and refugees
  5. Care for Creation
  6. Advocate for and serve the poor and vulnerable
  7. Speak truth
  8. Do justice
  9. Love God
  10. Love my family
  11. Love my neighbors
  12. Love my enemies
  13. Seek the Kingdom
  14. Anticipate the return of Jesus
  15. Point people to Jesus

I might now add to the list, ‘do not succumb to the temptation to join the empire.’ 

This list is important folks.  Because even when Trump is gone and Biden is President, our job is not done.  Trumpism isn’t going anywhere, nor should we think it is a cultural aberration.  It is the latest iteration of the age old fallen imperial tendencies to exert control via the means of fear and rage, to divide populations in order to conquer them, to marginalize certain people groups, to steal from the poor, and to achieve absolute power.  These tendencies are as ancient as Old Scratch himself, and sadly will remain with us until the day of Christ’s return.  Until that day, disciples of Jesus must be on guard against them, even as we stand on guard against the excesses and abuses of other political philosophies as well. 

Folks, we still have work to do.  We need to show the world, including Biden and his administration no less than any other, the Jesus Way of doing things.  As we do, we can follow Treebeard’s advice and do some things together.  But let us remember, our allegiance is to another King. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

A Christian ‘To Do’ List in the Event Trump/Biden Wins

God is our refuge and strength…therefore we will not fear, though the mountains should fall into the heart of the sea – Psalm 46:1

Well, it’s Election Day, and like many of you, I enter this day with a certain level of anxiety.  Many have said this is the most important election since 1860, and although I think that is something of an exaggeration (1876 was pretty big too!) there is no doubt that a lot rides on the outcome.  Regular readers of this blog know that I certainly have my choice in this contest, along with a host of fears concerning what might happen should that choice not prevail.  What will I do if it doesn’t?  What will life be like if the country descends into the pit of despair I imagine will happen if the other side (Trump and Trumpism) wins?  What will happen to the country?  To my family?  To the vulnerable among us?  To the witness of the Church? 

Such thoughts stand a good chance of keeping me up most of the night, even though I would prefer to go to bed early and skip the whole election night drama.  Heck, it may be days or even weeks before we know anyway.  Wait, what?  Days!  Weeks!  Aye carumba!  How can I get by day to day during such a prolonged holding period!  I need to know!  I need to know so I can figure out what to do on the other side of this election!  In the words of Charlie Brown, ‘AAGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGH!’

Oh foolish me.  Truth is I already know what I will do.  In fact, I know so well I made a list, well, two lists.  One to remind me of the things I, as a follower of Jesus, will need to do in the event Trump wins the election.  Another to remind me of the things I, as a follower of Jesus, will need to do in the event Biden wins the election.  I think these lists may help some of you as much as they are helping me.  And so, here they are:

List One – Things to do if Trump wins the election

  1. Hope
  2. Pray
  3. Stand against racism and bigotry
  4. Speak up for immigrants and refugees
  5. Care for Creation
  6. Advocate for and serve the poor and vulnerable
  7. Speak truth
  8. Do justice
  9. Love God
  10. Love my family
  11. Love my neighbors
  12. Love my enemies
  13. Seek the Kingdom
  14. Anticipate the return of Jesus
  15. Point people to Jesus

Yes, should Trump win, it will be important, as in life and death important, to do all these things.  On to list two:

List Two – Things to do if Biden wins the election

  1. Hope
  2. Pray
  3. Stand against racism and bigotry
  4. Speak up for immigrants and refugees
  5. Care for Creation
  6. Advocate for and serve the poor and vulnerable
  7. Speak truth
  8. Do justice
  9. Love God
  10. Love my family
  11. Love my neighbors
  12. Love my enemies
  13. Seek the Kingdom
  14. Anticipate the return of Jesus
  15. Point people to Jesus

Get the picture?

The truth is, no matter who wins this election, the mission of those who follow Jesus will not change.  We will still live in a world that is broken and in need of a Savior.  We will still need to live as the advance echoes of the world that is to come.  We will still need to stand at the crossroads of culture and show the world the peculiar way of God’s people.  True enough, some of the things on the list will perhaps be more or less challenging depending on who wins.  But the mission will not change at all. 

And that gives me hope today.  No matter what happens tonight, even should the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, God remains our refuge and strength.  Jesus remains our Lord and Savior.  The Kingdom remains the place of our citizenship.  And the mission is the same. 

I still may stay up awhile to see what happens, but knowing this, I can face tomorrow, no matter what it brings.  

I hope you can too. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Deleting Jesus – Free Starting Today

Hey folks, just a quick reminder that the countdown deal for a free Kindle copy of Deleting Jesus starts today! Here’s a little blurb from the back cover:

Deleting Jesus is an examination of both who Jesus is and what he asked his followers to be. Through a study of the words and actions of Jesus, the witness of the New Testament, and the writings of early Christians, pastor and author Brent David Miller contrasts the Christianity of the early Church with the counterfeit version so prevalent today, and issues a call to follow the radical and loving way of Christ. In this book you will discover the teachings of Jesus and the early Church on such topics as power, politics, enemy love, war, the proper use of wealth, the treatment of refugees and immigrants, racism, and the life of discipleship. Whether you are a believer stuck in the trenches of American pop Christianity, or a non-believer who is turned off by the antics of the so-called Christians around you, prepare to have your perspective rocked. Prepare to discover the real Jesus.

You can download your free copy on Kindle through Monday October 12th.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Deleting Jesus Giveaway

Then the devil took him up and revealed to him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time. ‘I will give you the glory of these kingdoms and authority over them,’ the devil said, ‘because they are mine to give to anyone I please. I will give it all to you if you will worship me.’ – Luke 4:5-6

This is just a quick post to announce that my book, Deleting Jesus, will be FREE in the Kindle store from this Thursday, October 8th, through Monday, October 12th.

Deleting Jesus laments the mistake Christians make when they accept the devil’s bargain of Luke 4:5-6, trading fidelity to Jesus for the promise of political power. It was written in the wake of the 2016 election but remains relevant as once again, Christians approach another presidential election and wrestle with the intersection of faith and politics.

I am offering this free at this time as my way of helping folks navigate a world where large segments of the Church have traded the way of the Cross for the way of the dragon and its beasts. My hope is that it will be a blessing to you. My only request is that if you like it, take a moment to write a review on Amazon. Positive reviews help the messages of my books reach a wider audience.

Feel free to share this with others! May God bless you as you follow the Lamb in this crazy and stressful time.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Why I Don’t Say the Pledge of Allegiance

The Christian icon is not the Stars and Stripes but a cross-flag, and its emblem is not a donkey, an elephant, or an eagle, but a slaughtered lamb – Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw, in Jesus for President

No one can serve two masters – Jesus, Matthew 6:24

I said it for years.  It was second nature.  In school, in Boy Scouts, in public assemblies.  When we were told to rise and place our hands over our hearts and recite the pledge of allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, it was second nature.  It was what you were supposed to do.  It was the patriotic and respectful thing to do.  And so for years I did it, never questioning the practice. 

But as the years passed by and, more importantly, as I grew more in my relationship with Jesus, saying the pledge made me uncomfortable.

Two reasons. 

The first is that I came to understand myself to be a citizen of heaven (Philippians 3:20).  Specifically of the restored world that will come when Jesus returns and brings heaven into the real world.   That will be a world without borders.   In the meantime, I am a stranger and alien without a country on earth (see, Hebrews 11:13; John 17:16; 1 Peter 2:11).  The only sense in which I have citizenship in this present age of the world is my citizenship in the Kingdom of God.  And that, already, is a transnational kingdom without borders, made of people from every nation, language, and tribe. 

Secondly, there is the most basic confession of Christianity: Jesus is Lord.  Jesus is the one to whom I owe my life. He is the only one who is worthy (Revelation 5).  The only one before whom all kings and nations will one day bow (Philippians 2:11).  (You do know that when that happens, America will cease to exist, don’t you?).  I owe my allegiance to him and him alone.  Jesus said you cannot serve two masters.   The early Christians took that at face value.  The historical record of the first few centuries of Christianity shows that many preferred to die (and did) rather than pledge allegiance to Caesar and Rome.  Moreover I’ve seen what can happen when Christians try to serve both God and country, when they try to claim Jesus as Lord while pledging allegiance to a nation.   Such duality of allegiance leads to a loss of focus, a syncretistic faith at best and idolatry at worst.  In America, it has created a nationalistic form of Christianity Jesus never intended.   One in which the Lamb has been wedded to elephants and/or donkeys, and is usually treated as the submissive partner. This has led to the propagation of a false Gospel that has distorted the Church’s witness to the world. 

At the same time I know that there are certain responsibilities everyone has by virtue of being a member of the society in which they live.  The Bible indeed confirms this.  For example, I must seek the welfare of my society (Jeremiah 29:7).  I am to pray for its well-being and for its leaders (1 Timothy 2:1-4). I am to show those leaders a measure of respect even in the face of deep and justifiable disagreement (1 Peter 2:17 – this doesn’t mean being a yes man who remains silent in the face of injustice or evil leaders. God’s people have always been commissioned to speak truth to power and confront evil wherever and whenever it abounds. But they must do so respectfully and peaceably, never violently or destructively).  I am also to be respectful of civil authority and obey the laws of my country so long as they do not contradict God’s commands (Romans 13:1; Acts 5:29).  In the event of conflict, God’s commands must be followed, and I may therefore need to engage in civil disobedience as a witness to truth in the hope that my leaders and nation might turn to the truth.  Nonetheless I must remain respectful and peaceful as I do so. (There’s a catch here of course, the powers that be, as well as those in cahoots with them, will never consider any criticism respectful, and will therefore accuse me of violating the very principles I just cited.  But I cannot worry about that.  I figure acting and speaking like Jeremiah and other prophets puts you on good ground in terms of being respectful in Gods eyes as you speak truth to power, so I’ll go with that approach).   These are my duties as a Christ follower living in the world in its present state.  I must always act in love and seek the best for the ‘city’ in which I live.

But such duty does not negate the fact that I am a citizen of heaven with a higher loyalty to a Higher King.  Indeed the very verses I have cited emphasize the truth that as I seek the best for the place in which I live I must maintain my full allegiance to my True King.  And this is the reason why I find it impossible to pledge allegiance to any flag or republic for which it stands.  No flag is synonymous with the cross, and no republic is synonymous with the Kingdom of God.   A Pledge is a solemn oath of loyalty, and allegiance connotes an absolute loyalty.   To take a pledge is even in a sense a religious act.  It is a promise of unwavering, unyielding fealty to a concept or ideal that is higher than oneself. 

I cannot make such a promise to anyone or anything other than Jesus and his Kingdom.  For me, as it was for the early Church, it feels idolatrous.  It feels like a betrayal of my True King and Kingdom.  It feels like an attempt to serve two masters.  If I were to say the pledge, I’d have to do it with my proverbial fingers crossed.   I wouldn’t really mean it.  And I’d feel pretty darn lousy about that.  It would honor neither my King nor the republic in which I live. 

And so I no longer say the pledge of allegiance.  Haven’t for years. 

Most of the time, this is not a problem.  I don’t go to school anymore, and I am no longer in Boy Scouts, so the pledge doesn’t come up a lot.  But still, from time to time, I find myself in situations where the pledge is recited.  What do I do then?  How do I balance my need to maintain absolute fidelity to my Lord with the obligation to be respectful to the civil authorities under which I live while seeking what is best for my society?  Well, this is what I have come up with.  While everyone else says the pledge, I silently pray.  I pray to acknowledge that Jesus is my Lord.  I ask him to help me live as a faithful citizen of his Kingdom.  I pray for wisdom for our leaders; that they come to, and act in accordance with, the saving knowledge of God.  And I pray for the welfare of the world, country, state, and town in which I live.  That righteousness and justice will reign. That I can be an instrument of welfare and peace.  And that the people of my ‘city’ who do not already do so will one day pledge allegiance to the world’s True King.   

I’m sure that doesn’t satisfy everyone.  I’m sure it ticks some people off.  But I’m not trying to satisfy people. 

I’m trying to satisfy my King. 

The King to whom I have already pledged my allegiance.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Loving Enemies, Loving Jesus

‘If you love me, you will keep my commandments’ – John 14:15

I’ve never been a fan of the National Prayer Breakfast.  Reason being that it doesn’t seem to be a prayer breakfast.  Oh, I’m sure there are people of faith who go for that purpose, but it’s mostly an opportunity for the wealthy and powerful to meet behind closed doors and make deals.  It’s a place where politicians can be politicians while pretending to be spiritual.  A place where allegiances to America and God are so syncretized that you couldn’t separate them with a knife.

But something happened at this year’s Prayer Breakfast that deserves our attention. Conservative Christian and Washington Post Columnist, Arthur C. Brooks, delivered the keynote address.  His topic was Jesus’ command to love our enemies (Matthew 5:44).  Brooks’ hope, it seems, was to temper the acrimony that pervades our national discourse .  It was an attempt at reconciliation, directed at everyone present, including members of Congress and the President of the United States, who was the next speaker at the breakfast. 

Before turning to the President’s response, it is important to note that loving enemies is not a peripheral issue for Christians.  It is a central one.  Love for enemies lies at the center of our theology of the Cross (‘God proves his love for us in this: that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us’ – Romans 5:8).  Jesus loved his enemies every step along the Via Dolorosa.  He loved the religious council that condemned him, the Roman Governor who sentenced him, the soldiers who flogged him and hung him up to die.  He loved you, me, and everyone else in the world who is ultimately responsible for what happened there.  Yes, love for enemies is central to the Christian faith.  It is a command of Jesus that his followers have no choice but to obey.

The President, however, wasn’t on board.  He took the podium and started his speech by saying, ‘Arthur, I don’t know if I agree with you.’  He then attacked his political opponents and questioned their faith. It was embarrassing. Unfortunately, this was just his opening act on a day when he would prove his complete and utter disregard for the command of Jesus.

The main event came later at a bizarre ‘news conference’ in the east room of the White House, where Trump, surrounded by congressional and other supporters (including evangelical Christians), lambasted his enemies.  In the course of characterizing the investigation into his abuse of power as ‘bullshit,’ he called his political opponents ‘lousy,’ ‘vicious’ and ‘horrible’ people.  They were ‘evil’ and ‘corrupt.’  Undeserving of love.  Undeserving of respect.  Undeserving of even the most basic civil courtesies.  His supporters (including the evangelicals) stood and cheered.  Arthur Brooks had given the President an opportunity to help heal the nation.  Instead, he attacked his opponents, dehumanized them, and deepened the nation’s wounds. 

None of his words surprised me.  Nor was I particularly offended.  The President, you see, is not a follower of Jesus.  He is the leader of an empire.  As such, I do not expect him to love his enemies.  That is not to say I condone the fact that he doesn’t.  It’s just that imperially minded people never do.  That the leader of an empire (and yes, America is an empire) wouldn’t buy into the concept of enemy love should not surprise anyone.  That the world should behave like the world is no more surprising than that a dog barks or a cat meows. 

But what is surprising, although these days it is becoming less so, is that as the President spewed hatred and anger at his opponents, his evangelical minions, both in the room and around the country, clapped and cheered.  That is not what followers of Jesus do.  Followers of Jesus model the way of enemy love before the world.  They show that the way of empire is wrong and that the way of Calvary Love (enemy love) is right.

One might have thought that as the President exemplified the opposite of Jesus’ teaching, they would have come to their senses.  But did they?  Have they?  No.  They continue to proclaim him to be God’s man.  They continue to hold up a hater as the one worthy of Christian support.  They continue to exalt the politics of hate over the politics of Jesus.

It’s time we stated the obvious: these religious charlatans clapped and cheered Trumps shenanigans because they, no less than the President, do not follow Jesus’ command to love enemies.  For them, Jesus’ core teaching is disposable.  They don’t believe it.  Indeed, I’m not sure they ever did.  For years we have seen them working to crush their opponents.  They have spewed hate at people who struggle with particular types of sin.  They have stoked the fires of war and then cheered as the bombs dropped.  They have demonized all who disagree with their politics.  In the wake of President Trump’s election, when asked whether the Trump-Evangelical Christian alliance might hurt the cause of evangelism among younger, more progressive folks, one prominent evangelical leader wrote an op-ed that insisted, ‘those liberals don’t like us anyway.’  In other words, if you’re not already on our side, why should we care if you come to Jesus?  His view is hardly an aberration in the right-wing Evangelical world. Their record is clear: they do not love their enemies any more than the President does. 

But forget about enemies, I’m beginning to question whether these clapping and cheering evangelicals love people at all.   Well, maybe some people – the ones who are like them.  But certainly not those who are different.  They don’t love Democrats.  They don’t love independent minded Republicans.  They don’t love the poor.  They don’t love immigrants or refugees.  They don’t love LGBT people.  Many don’t love people of color.  People who look like them or share their affinities, they love them.  But anyone else, forget it. 

But even that may not be the worst of it.  Given that Jesus commanded us to love everyone, including those who are different from us, including those who might even be our enemies, there is one more conclusion we must reach about the kind of Christian who cheers and claps while the President demeans both his enemies and those who are different. It is a conclusion I’ve tried very hard not to reach but honestly cannot deny any longer.  Even as I come close to writing it I pray that I am wrong. But it is a conclusion as plain as day in light of Jesus’ clear statement, ‘if you love me, you will keep my commandments.’ 

No matter what they say or how loudly they say it, no matter how many church services they attend, no matter how many fish stickers they put on their cars, they don’t love Jesus. 

God help them.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Fools No More

‘We are fools for Christ, but you are so wise in Christ! We are weak, but you are so strong! You are honored, we are dishonored! To this very hour we go hungry and thirsty, we are in rags, we are brutally treated, we are homeless. We work hard with our own hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; when we are slandered, we answer kindly. We have become the scum of the earth, the garbage of the world – right up to this moment’ – Paul, the Apostle, in 1 Corinthians 4:10-13


Paul just didn’t get it. The church he had helped plant in Corinth had, in his absence, gone off the rails. He had taught them about the folly of the Cross that was in fact the wisdom of God, and still they decided to go in big for something else. The life they were pursuing looked nothing like the life of true discipleship. Paul, as an apostle, a disciple who had been sent to tell others the truth, could not help but draw out the contrast. The Corinthians desired to be seen as wise, strong, and honorable. They yearned for ease, wealth, and power. While the true Jesus followers were mistreated, poorly attired, homeless, and weary from heavy labor. The scum of the earth. The garbage of the world. And yet, when the world treated them as such, they endured. They even blessed their enemies and treated them with kindness. It was as if they expected to be treated poorly. Paul’s point was pretty clear: life as a follower of Jesus wasn’t supposed to be life at the top.

This is what the Corinthians had forgotten.

This may seem an odd segue way, but I was thinking of Paul’s description of true discipleship the other day after finishing the Steven James’ novel Synapse, a story set in a not so distant future in which Artificial Super Intelligence has become a reality. The novel raises ethical questions about AI, questions James wisely leaves lingering for his readers to contemplate on their own. But along the way we are confronted by the thought of what would happen if technology became available to enhance human intelligence. A simple implant in the brain, and suddenly we could be super intelligent, connected to all sorts of digital information, super-human. Who wouldn’t do it? Well, some would not. They would prefer the experience of being natural people. What would become of them? We are left to ponder the possibility that they would become the outcasts of humanity. The scum of the earth. The garbage of the world.

James’ ethical conundrum in turn reminded me of a movie from the 90’s, Gattaca, about a future society where parents can genetically engineer their children to be perfect specimens of humanity, without flaw or defect, handsome, beautiful, able to do great things. Most people go all in. But some opt out. These purists have ‘natural’ children who are less than perfect, even defective. What happens to them? They become the servants, the street-sweepers, the toilet-cleaners, people who do the dirty jobs that the genetically perfect don’t want to do. They live as an under-society in the midst of a ‘great’ society, mostly ignored by the greats. The scum of the earth. The garbage of the world.

I wonder how many Christians today would like it if that’s the way things really were. If we who followed Jesus actually understood that following him meant rejecting the enticing power available from the world. That we didn’t need to play into the power games of the elites. That we were, in fact, supposed to reject the way of power and riches and security in favor of the way of the cross. If we dropped out of our alliances with the empire, alliances that give to us the ability to be rich and secure and safe. If we suddenly became the people everyone else looked down on. Mere servants. If we were mocked and persecuted by those who considered themselves our betters. If we too were seen as the scum of the earth. The garbage of the world.

This may sound as insane to you as Paul’s words may have sounded to the Corinthians. But do you realize that there was a time when such was the lot of the Christian church? I mean, what else can you make of Paul’s description? For the first three centuries of its existence (the most missionally effective in Church history) Christians were despised, and expected to be so. They were the scum of the earth and the garbage of the world, at least in the eyes of the powerful. They were, in those eyes, powerless. And yet…they didn’t feel that way. They knew that despite what the world thought they were in fact powerful. They knew that, as Paul had written earlier in his letter, their foolishness was wiser than human wisdom, and their weakness was stronger than human strength. That their way, Jesus’ way, was the way. The way that led to glory. The way that enabled them to experience God in the midst of the battle of life and the way that would enable them to reign with him in the life of the age to come. This was enough for them. It didn’t matter what the world thought. It didn’t matter if they lacked the world’s power. It didn’t matter if they were made to serve a world that looked down upon them. In fact, that was what they were called to do. And so, they served it. When the world threatened them with hate, they responded with love. When the world cursed them, they offered blessings in return. When the world spoke harshly to them, they responded with kindness. They were even foolish enough to believe that by doing so, they might win some of the world to their side.

Which, of course, they did.

And therein lies the challenge and impotence of the Church today. Certainly in America in the days that are upon us.

For the problem today is that so many in the Church prefer the way of the Corinthians. They crave the ‘synapse,’ the worldly enhancements, that can make them more than mere servants. Don’t believe me? Just turn on the news and you will see it happening. Christians aligning themselves with politicians who promise power, even when doing so means having to ignore just about everything that is true to Jesus. Willing to defend racism, hate, lies, bullying, and misogyny. Willing to overlook, even to deny, gross abuses of power that threaten all that is best about the society they live in. Willing to overlook evidence of such abuse, even when it is as plain as the noses on their faces. Willing to throw away the foolishness of God which is wiser than human wisdom, and the strength of God which is stronger than human strength, to gain the favor of a cruel and brutish king. Willing, for God’s sake, to forsake the call to love and to bless, and instead use the world’s power to crush anyone and everyone who offers so much as a hint of a rumor of a whisper of a threat against them. Willing to classify others as the scum of the earth and the garbage of the world, and to promote policies that put such scum and garbage in their place.

I think this is what bothers me so much about the Trumpian times we live in. I’m not at all thrilled that someone such as he is President. But that shouldn’t really surprise me. A fallen world, you see, will act like a fallen world. Power hungry men and women will from time to time seize the reigns and do terrible, cruel, and heartless things. The Church should of course speak out against such things, should live out an alternative existence that points to another way, but that we should have to should not surprise us at all. Such has always been the way of the fallen world and the calling of the Church within it.

But what does surprise me – although perhaps even this shouldn’t – is when people who are supposed to be following Jesus, who are supposed to be like Paul, who are supposed to live an alternative existence in a mad, mad world, become the supporters and defenders of the madmen who run it.

Something like that was what cut Paul so deeply, what led him to respond to the Corinthians as he did. He saw them beginning a journey that would not end well, and so reminded them of their calling: they were not to live as the ‘wise’ of the world, but as fools. Fools who knew the value of following Jesus, who knew the strength of what the world perceives to be weakness. Fools who understood that to do so was the only way.

But alas, it seems that in today’s Christian world, many have chosen to be fools no more.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Give Me Jesus

‘Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ and become one with him’

– Paul the Apostle, Philippians 3:8-9(a)


Some days I feel like Zacchaeus.

For you who are church people, you know who that is. ‘Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he,’ as the old Sunday School song goes. For others, Zacchaeus was, well, a wee little man. He was the vertically challenged tax collector whose story is told in the 19th chapter of Luke’s Gospel. There we learn that he was the chief tax collector in the city of Jericho, a plum job if there ever was one. Jericho was one of the wealthiest cities in Judea, a place where a chief tax collector could make a killing by running what was essentially a pyramid scheme. Zacchaeus would hire junior tax collectors to collect sales, customs, and other taxes, knowing in advance how much he was required to hand over to the Romans. This left him free to collect enough to line the pockets of both his subordinates and himself (especially himself). Zacchaeus worked this system very well, and as a result had become very rich. Yes, it was good to be chief tax collector in Jericho.

But to become rich, Zacchaeus had sold out. He was a Jewish man whose name meant ‘righteous one.’ Obviously, his parents had high hopes for him. But he had exchanged those hopes for a lucrative career in collaboration with the Romans. I imagine he knew this: that he had been meant for something better, a life of meaning and holiness and the pursuit of God. But hey, this was the real world, right? If you wanted to make it there, you had to make compromises. Give up your idealistic dreams. Focus on what was in front of you. Make the best use of what the world gives you. And the world, it turned out, gave him a lot: a nice house, servants, and wealth enough to keep him in the lap of luxury for the rest of his life.

Some days, he could almost make himself forget that he was a sellout.

But then came the day when he could do so no longer. The day when Jesus came to town. Zacchaeus had obviously heard about Jesus. The Rabbi from Nazareth who had been traversing the Judean countryside, challenging Israel to live as God intended, delivering people from whatever bondage they had fallen into, healing people’s bodies, minds, and hearts. Jesus had been offering everyone the opportunity to fulfill their God-given potential and to experience life with God the way it was meant to be. The stories of Jesus were the kinds of things that made a man think of both who he was and what he could become. Such thinking provoked a crisis in Zacchaeus’ life. It made it harder to forget what he had become. It made him think that there was more available than life as a sellout.

And so, Zacchaeus thought, maybe there was. Maybe Jesus could give him what he had reportedly given to others. New life. New hope. A fresh start. Life with God as it was meant to be experienced. He had to find out. He had to see Jesus. There was only one problem: Zacchaeus was short (micros in Greek) and as Jesus made his way into the city, he was surrounded by groupies. Poor Zacchaeus couldn’t see over them. Zacchaeus knew that to see Jesus, he would need to think creatively. Up ahead, he saw a sycamore tree, and off he went. He cut Jesus and the crowd off at the pass and scurried up the tree. It may have been a creative solution to his problem, but it was also a ridiculous and undignified thing to do, a man of his stature and standing, running and climbing a tree. But Zacchaeus had summoned up the courage to do it, and it paid off. You can read the rest of the story in Luke 19:1-10, but the gist of it is this: Jesus found him and offered him a fresh start, which Zacchaeus eagerly accepted, embracing life the way God meant it to be experienced.

You may wonder why I feel like Zacchaeus some days. After all, I’m not a tax collector. I don’t run a pyramid scheme. I’ve never defrauded anyone. I’m not short. And those of you who know me probably don’t think of me as a sellout (at least I don’t think you do). But some days, I feel like one. As the years have ticked by, I have increasingly felt that my life as a pastor in the American church is one of compromise. Truth be told, I’m kind of sick of the compromise (for those in the church I serve, this is not a resignation letter – it’s a call to something deeper, so read on). Actually, and I know this sounds terrible, I’m sick of Christianity. I’m sick of religion. Institutional church. Denominationalism. Stone buildings and stained glass idolatries. I’m sick of the syncretism we pass off as the Christian faith, the façade that is actually a mixture of nationalism, patriotism, militarism, consumerism, selfishness, and apathy all tossed in a bowl and then glazed over with a thin veneer of Jesus. I’m sick of playing the game that pretends all of that is okay just so that I can collect a paycheck. It’s not okay. It’s all a farce. There is so much more available. So much more that Jesus offers. So much more to living the way that God intended.

I won’t to be a sellout any longer. I want to see Jesus.

That’s why, some days, I feel like Zacchaeus. I feel a real kinship with him. Just this morning, as I was walking my dog Corky, looking at the trees that line the streets of Collingswood, I imagined myself sitting with Zacchaeus in that sycamore tree. There we were, together, sick of everything we had become a part of, longing for something more, singing the words of the old hymn:

In the morning when I rise
In the morning when I rise
In the morning when I rise, give me Jesus
Give me Jesus
Give me Jesus
You can have all of this world
Give me Jesus

Oh how I want Jesus. I don’t want anything else. Keep your stained glass, your stone, your denomination, your religion. Keep your well-constructed worship services that aim to please a consumer church. You can have it all. The only thing I want from here on out is Christ. May God grant me – and all of us – the creativity and courage to be like Zacchaeus, to be every bit as undignified and ridiculous as he was in the quest to get to Jesus.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Pastor Brent