Category: Jesus

A Father’s Story

This post is an excerpt from my Advent devotional, The Dawn from On High: Advent Through the Eyes of Those Who Were There. It appears as the second chapter of the book, after Mary has told the story from her perspective.

‘This is how Jesus the Messiah was born.  His mother, Mary, was engaged to be married to Joseph…’ – Matthew 1:18

Oh the joy in my heart!  I was betrothed to Mary!  Oh Mary, she could knock your socks off.  Once matters were arranged, I looked her in the eyes – oh those beautiful eyes – and told her of the home I would prepare for us.  She smiled broadly, the kind of smile that makes the sun come out on a cloudy day, and I hurried off to begin the addition to my father’s house that would one day be our bridal suite.  Such a wondrous time.  The days were filled with expectation and longing.  Just seeing Mary walk by on her way to get water from the well was enough to send my soul into the skies. 

But then one day her father came by.  He could not look me in the eye.  He brought dreadful news.  Mary was pregnant. I tried not to believe it, but there was no reason for him to lie.  After a brief conversation he left, and I fell to the floor.  I cried for hours.  I felt as if the sun would never come out again.

Finally, I rose, resolved to see her, to hear of her betrayal from her own lips.  I felt I deserved at least that from her. 

Boy did she have a story.  She claimed that an angel had appeared to her and told her that she would conceive by the Holy Spirit, and that the child she gave birth to would be none other than the Messiah who would inherit the throne of our ancestor David.  Man, I had heard some whoppers in my day, but that one took the cake.  I was no fool.  I may have been young and inexperienced, but I knew where babies came from, and it wasn’t the Holy Spirit.  So I faced the fact: Mary had betrayed me.  I was heartbroken.  So was she.  I’ll never forget the look in her eyes as she begged me to stay.  But I didn’t.  I turned on my heels and walked out the door.  Mary had always been truthful, but I just couldn’t believe a story like that.  So I walked out of her life, believing I was doing so forever. 

___

My ordeal wasn’t over, however.  There were legal details to arrange.  My options were relatively straightforward.  I could publically divorce her, thereby exposing her betrayal and bringing shame upon her and her family.  I could call for her death by stoning for having broken the contract of marriage.  Or I could quietly break off the engagement.  The first two options were things I could never have done.  Truth was that in spite of what I believed she had done I still loved her.  And so I went with option three. 

Even so, it broke my heart.  It broke over the loss of Mary and the loss of my dreams.  It broke as I thought of what Mary would endure as an unwed mother.  What would become of her?  At best, she would endure shame and humiliation.  At worst, I feared, she might end up a beggar or prostitute.  One thing was certain: our traditional community would not look kindly upon her predicament.

With such thoughts, sleep did not come easy.  I tossed and turned throughout the night until finally, in the early morning hours, in that nether world between sleep and wakefulness, I had a dream.  Or at least something like a dream.  In it I heard a voice, ‘Joseph, son of David!’  I opened my eyes, or at least imagined I did, and saw before me a being wrapped in light.  It was an angel!  I was scared to death.  But then the angel spoke again:

‘Joseph, son of David!  Listen to me.  Don’t be afraid to make Mary your wife.  The child within her was conceived by the Holy Spirit.  She will bring forth a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will be the One who will save people from their sins.  Mary did not lie.  She has told the truth.’ 

I woke with a start, soaked in sweat from head to toe.  I pondered the angel’s words.  Could they be true?  Suddenly, as if by divine inspiration, the words of the prophet Isaiah came into my mind: ‘Look!  The virgin will conceive and bring forth a child.  She will give birth to a son, and he shall be called Emanuel, God with us.’  Tears erupted from my eyes.  It was true!  Mary had not betrayed me.  She had been faithful.  And, which was more, God was on the move.  Mary’s child was the Messiah who would save us all! 

I knew what I had to do.  Four in the morning or not, I had to see Mary.  I raced to her father’s house, pounded on the door.  He greeted me with bed lines on his face, wondering if I had lost my mind.  Maybe I had.  But he let me in.  When I saw Mary, I fell to my knees.  I grabbed her around the waist, resting my head upon her belly, and thought, ‘Oh my Lord, in here rests the hope of the world.’  Mary knelt beside me and we held each other for what seemed an eternity, flooding the house with tears of joy.  When we finally looked up, Mary’s father was crying too. 

In due time, I took Mary to my home, that where I was, there she would also be.  Oh you bet there was a scandal.  People counted on their fingers.  Some laughed.  Some snickered behind our backs.  Some gave dirty looks.  Others were rude, downright hostile.  But we took it all in stride, and if anyone ever got too out of line with Mary, I gave them a talking to they did not soon forget.  But for the most part we accepted the strife, knowing that nothing good ever happens without some degree of suffering, and if this was ours to bear in God’s great plan of redemption, we were more than willing to endure it. 

___

One day, as Mary was approaching her time, a Roman soldier, a herald, arrived in Nazareth.  Caesar had decided to take a census, and everyone was required to travel to the city of their ancestors.     This meant that I, a descendant of David, had to return to Bethlehem, the city of David.  I nearly laughed out loud.  Bethlehem was the place the prophets said the Messiah would be born.  Little did Caesar know that he was setting the stage for the fulfillment of God’s promise! 

So off we went.  I on foot, Mary, nine months pregnant, on our donkey.  The eighty mile, several day trip was a rough one for one so heavy with child, but as Mary herself pointed out, who were we to argue with the ways of God?  We completed the journey in the nick of time.  We had barely touched the mezuzah on the doorpost of the house when Mary had her first contraction (oh, I know many of you think it was an inn, but that’s a misunderstanding.  Bethlehem was my hometown – I had family there).  It was I who nearly fainted.  We first thought to take Mary to the upper portion of the home, but that was a no go.  The census had brought many of my relatives home and the guest room was filled to the brim.  My family would have cleared some space, but we realized that with so many people in the house, it would be best to head down to the lower level, the place where the animals were kept, since there would be more privacy (we folks in the first century weren’t as squeamish as you are today about animals). 

It was a long night.  Mary’s labor was hard.  As I said, nothing good ever happens in the world without some degree of suffering.  But eventually the glorious moment arrived, and Mary’s son, God’s son, was born.  It was beautiful and miraculous, but at the same time unremarkable, like any other birth.  The midwife cleaned him up, and while she tended to Mary, she handed him to me. 

It was love at first sight.

___

There is much more I could tell.  Of shepherds and angels.  Of the day we took Jesus to the Temple and met Simeon and Anna.  I could tell of how Simeon, to whom God had promised he would not die until he saw the Messiah, took Jesus in his arms and declared that he had, and then handed him back to Mary.  I remember his words as he did so, ‘this child is destined to cause the rise and fall of many in Israel.  He will be opposed.’  Oh how his face darkened with those words, and darkened deeper still as with furrowed brow and sad eyes he told my wife that a sword would pierce her heart as well.  I could tell you of how we later received a visit from Magi from the east bearing gifts, and of how an angel again warned me that King Herod was trying to kill Jesus.  I could tell of our consequent flight to Egypt, of how we lived there as refugees for a time, and of how, after an angel told us it was safe to return home, we learned what had happened in our absence.  In a mad attempt to kill our son, Herod had killed all the children under two years old in and around Bethlehem.  Oh how Simeon’s words resounded in my mind as I wondered what such a thing might mean for the future of my son? 

It has been a few years now.  We live in Nazareth.  Jesus is a toddler.  Our lives have been, for the most part, uneventful.  But still, on some nights, after we have tucked Jesus in and helped him say his prayers, I stand over him and wonder: what did Simeon mean?  I reflect upon how Jesus came into the world, of Mary’s difficult labor, and of how nothing good happens in the world without some degree of suffering.  And I reflect upon the fact that Jesus came to do the best thing of all: to save the world.  What pain and suffering must await him?  I have seen what a maniac like Herod can do.  What will others do when Jesus begins to fulfill his destiny?

My friends and neighbors believe that the Messiah will be a triumphant warrior.  But I have heard the town Rabbi read the sacred words, of how the Messiah will be pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our sins.  The punishment that will bring us peace will fall hard upon him.  It will be by his wounds that the rest of us will be healed. 

Oh Father in heaven!  What does that mean?  What will happen to our son?  How can I prepare him for his future?  How can I teach him to be faithful and true, to stand when the time to fulfill his destiny arrives?  Blessed Adonai, I am so inadequate to the task.  Why did you ever choose me?  How can I possibly be a father to the Son of God?

But I remember what the angel said.  I am the son of David.  The descendant of a simple shepherd used by God to do great things. And I think, maybe God can use a simple carpenter too.

Maybe, he can use anyone. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Artwork by Michelle Jones

The Manger Player

‘And she brought forth her newborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger’ – Luke 2:7

How extraordinary is the chronicle of Christ’s Nativity!  Peasant parents-to-be on the move to register for the all-powerful Emperor Augustus’s census, mere mice in a world patrolled by imperial lions.  Arriving at their destination, they are forced to bring forth their miracle child in less-than-ideal conditions.  Depending on your interpretation of events, they were either shuffled off from the inn to a barn out back or relegated to the lower portion of a dwelling where the animals were kept.  Either way, their son – no less than the Son of the God – was born in a stable.  You might have thought that the Almighty Maker of Heaven and Earth, who created the universe out of nothing, could have arranged a better location for His Son’s birth than a place that stank like wet animal fur and dung.  The only people who came to acknowledge the incredible introduction of God in human skin were shepherds (the magi came later), hardly the major players of Judean society.  It was hardly an auspicious beginning.  The regents of the world would never have done it this way.

Which is precisely the point.  This was the unfolding of God’s plan to save the world, and God, though the possessor of ultimate and comprehensive power, doesn’t behave like the world’s major players.  He reveals his strength in weakness, a weakness that proves itself to be stronger than human strength (See, 1 Corinthians 1:25; 2 Corinthians 12:9).  It is through weakness and foolishness that God saves the world.  Which explains perfectly why Jesus was conceived in the womb of a poor peasant girl, birthed in a stable, and laid in a manger, why he came into the world not as a major player but, if you will, a ‘manger player.’  That’s the way God rolls. 

We would do well to remember this.

Too often we do not.  History is replete with examples of professing Jesus followers pursuing the way of power, the path of the major players, rather than the path of the one in the manger.  It is a path God never asked his people to follow, one that He Himself expressly rejected in the life of His Son.  Yet many follow it anyway, believing that obtaining what the world perceives as power is not only important but a matter of life and death. 

I am reminded of this every day when I read the news.  The 2020 Presidential election is over, and most of us would like to move on, but as we all know the President is playing a dangerous game, spinning patently false conspiracy theories in a transparent attempt to steal an election in pursuit of his own interests.  That a political leader, a major player on the world stage, would behave in such a manner probably shouldn’t surprise us.  The regents of the world often behave this way.  It’s kind of par for the course.  The extent to which it seems odd to us in America reflects how privileged we have been in this society up to this point.  Not everyone in the world is quite so privileged. 

But to see professing Christians, those who claim to follow Jesus, backing such an effort, hoping to thereby have access to the halls of power, exercise influence, and advance an agenda, should shock the conscience of everyone who hopes to honestly follow the one born and laid in a manger. 

An influential leader in the evangelical world recently gave voice to the position of many when he echoed the President’s lies, refused to accept the ‘monstrous’ Joe Biden as his fellow American, and called the election ‘the most horrifying thing that has ever happened in the history of the nation.’  He then proclaimed to the President (who had called in to his show; yes, this man has a show): ‘I’d be willing to die in this fight.  This is a fight for everything.  God is with us.’[1] In brief, this leader conveyed his belief that Christians had to fight for Trump because everything depends on keeping him in office. 

I beg to differ.  Christians should know that everything does not depend on keeping one’s preferred political candidate in power.  Rather, everything depends on following the one who, rather than be born in a palace and laid on a bed of downy softness, was born in a stable and laid in a manger.  Everything depends on following the one who, after he grew into adulthood, expressly spurned the imperial power game.  Everything depends on following the one who, though he had created all things, rejected being a major player on the world’s terms, took up his cross as his preferred means to save the world, and called us to do the same.

The Apostle Paul said that Christians are to have the same mind as Christ Jesus, who, even though he was God, renounced his privilege, became one of us, took on the form of a servant, and humbled himself all the way to the Cross (Philippians 2:5-8). 

There is a battle worth dying for in our time.  It’s a battle for the soul of the Church.  In this battle, with all due respect to the evangelical leader quoted above (and those who agree with him), the question is not whether we will give our lives for Donald Trump.  Or Joe Biden.  Or any other major player on the scene of imperial politics.  The question is not whether we will give our lives in the mad quest to obtain imperial power that we might change the world from the top down.  The question is whether we will give our lives, not for the major players, but for the ‘manger player,’ pursue his humble path, and walk with him as he changes the world from the bottom up. 

As the Mandalorian would say, ‘This is the way,’ and everything depends upon our following it.    

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] Eric Metaxas, Christian Radio Host, Tells Trump, ‘Jesus is With Us in this Fight.’ Religion New Service. November 30, 2020.

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

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

May the Force…uh…Not be with You?

From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force – Matthew 11:12 NRSV

I love Star Wars.  It’s been a part of my life since I was nine.  As a kid, I loved it for the light sabers, lasers, and quirky space characters.  As the years have rolled by, I’ve loved it for its decades’ long exposition of the battle between light and darkness, the downright biblical struggle of ordinary people fighting the forces of empire.  Star Wars has made more than a few appearances in my sermons over the years, and I have often compared the Way of Jesus to the Rebel Alliance. 

But I’m starting to realize I need to be careful there.  The comparison is a good one insofar as it reminds us that in a world full of imperialists, we need rebels to stand up for what’s right and present the option of another way.  But it’s not so good in terms of the way the rebels of Star Wars do that.  The rebels in Star Wars, you see, are violent.  You might say they are ‘forceful.’  The ‘god’ of the Star Wars universe is called, appropriately enough, ‘the Force.’  The rebels use ‘the Force,’ violently, just as they instinctively use other less mystical forms of violence to achieve their ends.  In doing so, they wind up fighting, at least to some degree, on the empire’s terms. 

That seems to work in the Star Wars universe.  But I’m beginning to see that it doesn’t work so well in the real world. 

Let me explain.

The forceful tend to have their way in our world.  Selfish men and women have used their power to construct a society that preserves their interests at the expense of the interests of others.  This typically means that the wealthy, the powerful, and the privileged are the ones who benefit from the way a society is organized.  This is true in all societies, even in supposedly democratic ones.  As a friend commented the other day, when we rail against the violence, corruption, and injustice inherent in our systems, we need to bear in mind that the problem with those systems isn’t that they are broken.  The problem is that they are working fine.  They are achieving exactly what they were designed to do. 

Take the present political scene as an example.  For years, many, myself included, have railed against an administration straight out of the Star Wars universe.  Our Palpatine may have orange hair, and his apprentice may not wear a black helmet, but the similarities are nonetheless present.  Day after day, we ‘rebels’ have imagined ourselves following in the footsteps of our Star Wars heroes, battling an administration that is undermining democratic principles and thrusting the nation in the direction of dictatorship.  Our tactics don’t involve lasers and light sabers, but we are fighting the battle on the enemy’s terms, that is, by means of power politics. 

And it isn’t working. 

Our enemies are simply too good at what they do.  They know how to use the systems they created.  And so, as we fight against them on their own turf, using their own means, we find ourselves losing.  I would go so far as to say that in the present crisis, we may have already lost.  Many of us have pinned our hopes on the 2020 election in the effort to rid the ‘galaxy’ of its current emperor. But I have become convinced that for all the rightness of our cause, we may in the end still come out on the losing side. The emperor, despite our best efforts and current polling, stands a good chance of being re-elected.  Indeed I believe that’s likely. Why?  Because the system has been rigged by the violent, and violent men and women know how win by force. Sure, I hope I’m wrong. But you have to admit, it’s at least a distinct possibility.

Which leads me to believe there must be a better way.

And that takes me to Jesus. 

Jesus had a different approach.  Instead of battling the kingdoms of the forceful by using their means, he wrote a new script for insurrection.  He eschewed, not just violence, but all tactics of the imperialists.  He created an alternative community and called it to live at the heart of the empire.  His followers, he envisioned, would follow in his steps.  They would not seek political power.  Their movement would be ‘political‘ in the sense that it would challenge the current order, but it would not be political in the sense the imperialists used that word. They would not fight on the enemy’s terms.  They would love, sacrifice, and serve.  They would do these things even as the empire attacked them, even as it killed them.  Living this way, God’s way, they would offer the world another path.  This would be the way to bring in God’s Kingdom.  This, in fact, would be God’s Kingdom.

A movie series about such a rebellion taking place a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away probably wouldn’t sell as many tickets as the Skywalker saga.  But here’s the thing: in the real world, this form of rebellion actually works.  We know this because God’s word tells us so.  One day, when history draws to a close, it will be those who participated in this rebellion who will be hailed, alongside of Jesus, as the world’s true heroes (see, e.g., Revelation 7:9-17). 

I’ve been thinking about this kind of thing a lot lately.  In a time when evil politicians plot and scheme, my forty plus years of immersion in the Star Wars universe makes me want to fight.  I read the news.  I see the cruel, foolish, life-endangering acts of the imperialists, and my heart and soul cries to unite with Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia Organa, and Rey Skywalker (nee Palpatine).  And while I do not turn to physical violence, the alignment of my heart to fight on the empire’s terms does spiritual violence to my soul.  I become angry, to the point of coming close to forsaking the call to love my enemies and follow Jesus’ path of downward mobility.  I am tempted to align myself with those who can take power and change the world from the top down, instead of from the bottom up.  And while I convince myself that I am fighting the good fight, I neglect the subtle danger that comes with aligning oneself with another, more benign version of empire, another attempt to establish a kingdom by force. 

And that is not Jesus’ way.

Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that those who follow Jesus’ way need to be silent doormats who say nothing while the imperialists cause them harm, or worse, say nothing while they hurt and harm others.  And it isn’t that we should refrain from taking sides in the struggle for justice (a tactic only the privileged can afford to take). That isn’t Jesus’ way either.  It is incumbent upon us to speak truth to power, challenge the empire, and present alternative ways of living.  It is incumbent upon us to demonstrate, in word and deed, the truth of Jesus’ Kingdom. 

But I, we, need to be careful of what we allow into our hearts.  We need to be careful lest we begin a journey that employs force instead of love, plays into the enemy’s hands, and forsakes the winning way of Jesus. 

And so, today, I’m committing myself anew to the rebellion of Jesus.  The rebellion of love.  And I’m praying and thinking hard about how to best do that.  If you are interested in making the same commitment, I’d love to hear from you.  Perhaps together we can find our way, which is and always must be the way of Jesus.    

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

The Greatest Wake Up Call Ever – a Word for Holy Week

‘Pilate replied, ‘You are a king then?’  ‘You say that I am a King, and you are right,’ Jesus said.  ‘I was born for that purpose.  And I came to bring truth into the world.  All who love the truth recognize that what I say is true.  ‘What is truth?’ Pilate asked (John 19:37-38(a) NLT). 

Pilate was a cruel and brutal man.  History records that he routinely executed men without benefit of trial.  He was the kind of guy who would as soon crucify you as look at you, and not lose a wink of sleep.  His delighted in provoking the Jewish people at every conceivable opportunity.  This style of governance resulted in many savage outbreaks of violence, followed by just as many bloody crackdowns, and the historical evidence suggests that he had been warned by Rome that no further mistakes on his part would be tolerated. 

One might therefore have expected that when asked to deal with Jesus, a man who had purportedly defied Caesar by claiming to be ‘King of the Jews,’ Pilate would have ordered a summary execution.  Instead, he equivocated.  Not to his credit, unfortunately.  His equivocations were most likely due to concern for his own skin.  Jerusalem was a tinder box.  The city had swelled to the point of bursting with Passover pilgrims.  Of all the times for a riot to start, this was not it.  And so, it seems that Pilate’s hesitation in deciding Jesus’ case was simply to ascertain the direction of the political wind.  Would a riot be more likely if he killed Jesus, or if he set him free?  By morning’s end, it was clear his safest course of action was the former.  Jesus was a man of peace, neither he nor his followers would riot if he were killed.  On the other hand, as the religious leaders had not so subtly threatened, if Pilate released Jesus, word would surely reach Caesar that he had failed to execute a man who challenged Roman authority (see, John 19:12).  And so, Pilate’s decision was made.  He sentenced Jesus, as he had sentenced many others, to death on a cross.   He might have at least had the decency to spare him the flogging.  But remember, Pilate was a cruel and brutal man.

And yet.  When we look at the Gospel narratives concerning the encounter between Pilate and Jesus, we see two things happening simultaneously.  First, Jesus reached out to Pilate.  He explained to Pilate the nature of his Kingdom.  He practically begged him to listen to his voice and hear the truth.  When Pilate asked his famous question, ‘Que Veritas?’ or ‘What is truth?’ Jesus just stood there.  Get it.  He just stood there, as if to say, ‘Here I am Pilate.  I am the truth.’  You must remember, of course, that Jesus gave his life for Pilate as much as for anyone else.  Remember John 3:16: ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son that whoever [Pilate, Caiaphas, Judas…] might not perish, but have everlasting life?’    Yes, in the encounter between Jesus and Pilate, Jesus reached out.  He wasn’t going to force himself on Pilate, but if Pilate wanted him, well, he was right there. 

Secondly, as Jesus reached out, Pilate’s world was seriously disturbed.  True, his ultimate decision was cold hearted, practical and selfish.  But it is impossible to read the accounts of the encounter between Pilate and Jesus and not sense that Jesus had called into question everything Pilate had ever believed, and Pilate felt it.  So much so that even a cruel and brutal man like Pilate was given pause. 

A few years back a woman named Susan Boyle auditioned for Britain’s Got Talent.  She was 47 and in no danger of being asked to pose for the cover of Glamour Magazine.  As she took the stage, the audience snickered.  They were, like Pilate, proud, hard-hearted, cynical, and cruel.  Nonetheless, the judges (feeling rather smug themselves) let Susan sing.  Her song choice was I Dreamed a Dream from Les Misérables, and the audience laughed out loud when she announced it (who was she to have dreams?).  

But then the music started, and she began to sing. 

Susan Boyle sang with the voice of an angel.  Five notes in, and the once cruel and cynical audience was cheering wildly.  The judges were stunned.  Mean old Simon Cowell looked like a schoolgirl who had just caught her first glimpse of the High School Football Captain.  Ms. Boyle literally took his breath away.  By the time she had finished, everyone was on their feet.  Every member of her audience, the proud, the glamorous, the hard-hearted, the cynical, and the cruel, had been won over by the beautiful, yes, beautiful, Susan Boyle.  Susan’s performance was, as one of the judges said so well, the biggest wake-up call ever. 

As soon as she finished, she put the mike down and began to walk off the stage, as if she had done what she had come to do, and that was that.  But of course, that wasn’t that.  The judges and audience begged her to come back.  And of course she did – she wouldn’t force herself on them, but if they asked, well, she was more than willing to come back into their lives. 

Keats said that beauty is truth, and truth beauty.  And if that’s true, and it is, I wonder if perhaps behind Pilate’s question, ‘what is truth?’ may have been his desire to discover the true and beautiful.  I wonder if perhaps, as he stood in the presence of Jesus equivocating, deep down there a part was reacting like that audience when they first heard Susan Boyle sing.  True, it wasn’t a large part of him that day.  He didn’t have his breath taken away by Jesus, as Simon Cowell did by Susan Boyle.  Clearly, he did the wrong thing.  But I have always wondered if, at some point, the memory of Jesus might have eventually taken his breath away – and brought him to his knees.  If perhaps Pilate, thinking back on the song that Jesus had sung on that dark day of Calvary, thinking back on both the truth and beauty that Jesus was and is, perhaps experienced his biggest wake-up call ever.  If perhaps Pilate, realizing that everything he had ever believed had in fact been wrong, finally got it, and embraced the truth and beauty of Jesus. 

We have no way of knowing, of course.  At least not until we touch eternity, or perhaps I should say, until eternity touches us.    It may well be that Pilate’s heart was too hard.  Not everyone appreciates the beauty of Susan Boyle.  And not everyone appreciates the beauty of Jesus.  But make no mistake people.  Jesus is beautiful.  Jesus is truth.  And in the final analysis, I believe that most people – if given the chance to see Jesus in all his beauty and truth, as someday all will – will have their breath taken away.  Most will fall to their knees.  Yes, in the final analysis, there is hope for everyone, Pilate included.  And if there is hope for a brutal, cruel man like Pontius Pilate, surely there is hope for you.

Do me a favor, will you?  Just for a moment, close your eyes.  Imagine the cross of Jesus Christ.  Do you see him?  Do you see his love?  Do you see his beauty?  Do you see his truth?  Do you?  It surely takes your breath away doesn’t it?  It surely is the biggest wake-up call ever.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Wind and Waves

But when he saw the wind and waves, he was terrified and began to sink – Matthew 14:30

In the fourteenth chapter of his Gospel, Matthew tells of a time when the disciples were overtaken by a storm at sea.  It was hardly the first time.  Many of them were fishermen, and even those who weren’t had at least once been in a similar situation (See, Matthew 8:23-27).  On that occasion, the disciples had simply run to Jesus, who had been sawing wood in the stern of the ship as if nothing were happening.  Jesus woke up, rubbed his eyes, looked around, and shouted, ‘Silence!  Be still!’  And just like that there was a dead calm.  The disciples learned that day that even the wind and waves obeyed their Master. 

But this time, things were different.  This time, Jesus wasn’t with them. 

He had insisted that they cross the sea alone while he went into the hills to pray.  Then, when the disciples found themselves far from shore, the storm hit.  They battled the wind and waves long into the night but were no match for them.  They were in over their heads.  All hope seemed to be lost. 

Jesus, however, had sensed their distress.  We can imagine that as soon as the storm arose, he looked seaward.  There, intermittently illuminated by flashes of lightning, he saw his struggling friends.  And so, he left the hills and walked to the shore.  And then kept walking – on the sea. 

As he drew close, he shouted, ‘Take courage!  I am here!’  

Simon Peter, filled with fresh courage, shouted, ‘Lord, if it’s really you tell me to come to you!’

Jesus beckoned to his impetuous friend.  ‘Yes, come!’

Simon Peter stepped from the boat and began to walk on the water, fixing his eyes on Jesus.  It was amazing.  But then, well, most of us know the story: ‘when he saw the wind and waves, he was terrified and began to sink.’

Jesus doesn’t let him sink of course. But we are going to stop right there for an important lesson. It’s a lesson many of us have heard before.  I first learned it as a kid in Sunday School.  In fact, it’s such a familiar lesson that you may wonder why I would take time to repeat it.  The reason is that sometimes, the simplest lessons are the ones that bear repeating.  So here it is:

Simon Peter was fine so long as he fixed his eyes on Jesus.  It was when he turned his attention to the wind and the waves that he began to sink. 

Right now my friends, there is a storm raging.  It’s called the Covid-19 virus.  It has us all scared.  We are doing our best to fight against it, but like the disciples battling the storm, we know that we are in over our heads. 

But just as Jesus saw the disciples in their distress, he sees us in ours, and as surely as he does, we know he will come to us. 

The question for us is therefore the same as it was for Simon: will we fix our attention on Jesus, or the storm. 

John Eldredge issued a short message the other day noting that in the current crisis, the battle is for our attention.  Will we focus on the storm and lose peace?  Or will we focus on Jesus and find it. 

As things continue to unfold in coming weeks, it will of course be important for us to pay attention, use common sense, and adhere to safe practices to ensure the health and safety of ourselves, our families, and our neighbors.  But as we do so, let’s not become so fixated on the storm that we begin to sink.  Let’s remember there is one who sees us with every flash of lightning.  There is one who comes to us in our distress.  There is one who calls us to fix our eyes on him and rise above the stormy sea. 

Fix your eyes on Jesus.  The Master of the wind and waves.  He is the one who will save us from the storm. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

P.S. – I continue to recommend John Eldredge’s Pause App as a tool to help keep your eyes on Jesus in this time.  It is free, and you can find it here or in the the App store.  It has been a tremendous help to me, and I hope it will be the same to you. 

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