Category: Love

All I Need to Know

Lord, my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty.

I don’t concern myself with matters too great or too awesome for me to grasp.

Instead, I have quieted myself,

like a weaned child who no longer cries for it’s mother’s milk.

Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me. 

– Psalm 131:1-2 NLT

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.

– 1 John 3:16(a)

What is the message of the Cross?

This is the question I must address every year at this time.  Weeks before Holy Week, it rises amidst all the other things I must think about.  I’m plugging along, embracing each week as it comes, spending time with God and creating space for inspiration for the messages and lessons I must impart each Sunday, while in the back of my mind some manic voice shouts, ‘Have you thought about Holy Week yet?’  And so the pressure begins to mount. 

I’m not sure what that pressure is, really, other than the massing of my own insecurities and perfectionist tendencies.  I think a lot of pastors feel it.  Somehow or other, we once again have to talk about the Cross, and not just as we do throughout the year.  It’s Holy Week, for crying out loud, and so you have to talk about the Cross in a special way!  This is the big time.  The show.  People who don’t normally come to church may show up on Palm Sunday.  They probably won’t on Good Friday, so you need to get the message of the Cross right then.  Oh sure, you can talk about Palm Sunday itself sometimes, the Triumphal Entry and all that, but not every year, that would be too repetitive, so at least every other year, on Palm Sunday, you need to deliver a whizz bang message about the Cross.  And remember, most of the people you’ll be speaking to have heard this story before.  Many times.  So you have to come up with something new.  Something original.  Something…clever. 

Fortunately, there are all sorts of ways to talk about the Cross.  The New Testament writers, tasked with expressing the most extraordinary event in the history of the universe, were inspired to paint various word pictures that help us capture the Cross and it’s meaning.  The Cross is a place of victory.  It’s a hospital where humanity’s wounds are healed.  It’s the place where the price was paid for the forgiveness of sins.  It’s our ransom.  It’s our moral model for how we are to live.  It recalls us to our true identity in God’s sight.  It restores our union with God.  It is the place where God enters into our suffering.  The list goes on and on.  There are any number of entry points to the message of the Cross.  So there shouldn’t be any problem coming up with something to share. 

But sometimes, there is.  And I know that sounds crazy.  But when you’re the pastor, you tend to remember everything you’ve every said about the Cross.  Every sermon.  Every illustration.  Every clever approach to make it sound new.  And you can’t help but think (hope?), even though you’re certainly wrong, that everyone else remembers too.  And so, the pressure.  How do you come up with something new, something original, something clever, in speaking of the Cross this year during Holy Week. 

I felt this pressure this year.  Big time.  The week before Palm Sunday, I sat down to write my sermon, and hours into it, felt as if I’d written nothing more than four pages of theological gobbledygook.  And so, a couple days later, I started from another angle.  I didn’t even finish a draft of that one.  I couldn’t seem to capture what I was trying to say.  And so, my brain hurting, I abandoned the project for a while. 

I eventually completed the sermon (I returned to my original, modified it slightly, and realized it wasn’t so bad).  But even so, I felt as if this whole exercise, this whole exhausting effort at trying to capture the message of the Cross in a single message, was ridiculous.  And, of course, it is.  Because the truth is that all of our efforts to capture that message are destined for failure.  How can you possibly capture the meaning of the Cross in a single message, or even in a lifetime of messages?  At the end of John’s Gospel there is a telling notation: ‘Jesus did many other things.  If they were all written down, I suppose the whole world could not contain the books that could be written.’  How equally true is that of the message of the Cross!  For all our theories, all our word pictures, all our attempts to capture the meaning of the Atoning work of Jesus Christ, all our cleverness, we have never, will never, come close to capturing its essence or fullness.  What happened there is beyond words.  There’s a reason theologians refer to the events of Holy Week as the paschal mystery.  The message of the Cross, the meaning of the Cross, the elusive understanding of the Cross will forever remain just that – a mystery.  Trying to explain it with words is like trying to contain the whole of Niagara Falls in a tea cup. 

Hence, the pressure. 

And so, here’s a message that doesn’t try so hard. 

What is the message of the Cross?

It is that we mean everything to God. 

And here is where, despite my earlier comments, I risk being clever. 

I recently finished reruns of The Office, a comedy that features one of the great love stories of the ages.  Yes, besides Romeo and Juliet, Captain Von Trapp and Maria, and Heathcliff and Catherine, you have to put Jim and Pam.  Their story captivated audiences for nine years running this century.  But if you know it, you know that near the end of that run, they hit some bumpy times. 

Pam, who struggled with self-esteem, was really having a hard time when Jim attempted to start a new business.  The time away, the time apart, made Pam feel as if she weren’t enough for Jim.  At one point, she tells him so, and Jim, well, Jim is just crushed.  After all he has done to show Pam how much he loves her, he realizes that he hasn’t done enough. 

And so, he asks the video crew that has been filming their story for nine years (that’s the premise of The Office) to help him out.  The crew assembles a montage of key moments in their love story, moments that highlight just how much Pam means to him.  Pam watches the video and then Jim hands her a letter.  It’s a letter he’s had for a long time.  He had almost given it to her once before they started to date, but chickened out.  But now, in the fullness of time, he shares it.   

As he hands the note to Pam, he simply says, ‘Everything you’ll ever need to know is in that note.’  Pam reads it, and with tears in her eyes, looks at Jim, who simply says to her, with a heart full of love, ‘Not enough for me?  You’re everything.’ 

And just like that, Pam knows she’s enough. 

She knows that in Jim’s eyes, she is everything. 

Here’s the funny thing: we never learn the contents of the note.  It remains, and still remains all these years later, a mystery. 

And that, more than anything else I can say, is the message of the Cross.  It’s God’s love letter to us.  The note that tells us everything we will ever need to know.  That no matter who we are, where we’ve been, or what we’ve done, we are, in God’s eyes, everything. 

When I was a kid, my Mom hung a plaque on the wall that said, ‘I asked God how much he loved me.  ‘This much,’ he said, and he stretched out his arms, and died.’

No matter what else the Cross means, no matter what theories we might propose or explanations we might offer, in the end, they really don’t matter much.  In the end, all that can remain a mystery. 

What matters is that God loves us. 

What matters is that we’re his everything. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Mary’s Oil

A Meditation on Mark 14:1-9

I’m not going to stop evil. 

Not entirely.

I mean, who ever did?

It’s like perpetual motion,

a machine that won’t stop.

A devouring, raging brute,

clawing its way from age to age. 

I read the signs, my heart flutters

to history’s latest frenzy. 

Things fall apart, as Yeats observed. 

All I can do is break my flask,

offer my libation,

proffer my resistance,

pour out my love,

as small and meaningless

as these may seem. 

But at least He will know.

At least the fragrance

will fill the room –

if only for a moment. 

What good will it possibly do? 

Perhaps no more than a fleeting respite. 

Or, perhaps, by God’s grace,

all the good in the world.    

Time will tell. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Meditation on John 19:28-30

Jesus knew that his mission was now finished, and to fulfill scripture, he said, ‘I am thirsty.’ A jar of sour wine was sitting there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put it on a hyssop branch, and held it up to his lips. When Jesus had tasted it, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and released his Spirit.

What is a man to do,

When given sour wine?

When bitter grapes replace the sweet?

When innocence and violence meet?

When anger rises in his breast?

When those around him serve up death?

There was a man

Who cried with thirst

Under a blackened sky.

They offered him such bitter drink

And stood to watch him die.

Yet tasting it

He did not spit

Nor call out for their blood.

He spoke a prayer,

Then bowed his head,

And gave his life to God.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

The Jesus Way

‘People think faith is a big electric blanket, when of course it is a cross’ – Flannery O’Connor

Phil Wickham has nailed it. 

Mind you, I don’t know Mr. Wickham.  For all I know he wrote his song in a moment of exuberance and doesn’t really mean what he’s singing (although I suspect he most certainly does).  But the words to his song, The Jesus Way, are precisely what the Christian world needs to hear.  You can listen to the song here.  I particularly appreciate the first and third verses:

If you curse me, then I will bless you

If you hurt me, I will forgive

And if you hate me, then I will love you

I choose the Jesus way –

If you strike me, I will embrace you

And if you chain me, I’ll sing his praise

And I you kill me, my home is heaven

Oh, I choose the Jesus way

Wow.  What a call to radical, nonviolent love!  You just don’t find many popular church songs willing to lay it out so plainly (go ahead, try to find some).  The song has been out for over a year, but I heard it for the first time a week or so ago.  I looked it up and discovered it was only a minor hit on the Christian charts last year.  Perhaps its recent spike in airplay indicates a comeback of sorts.  That would be nice, but I suspect, sadly, that its lyrics won’t find much purchase in the minds and hearts of many contemporary Christians, particularly those who make the most noise these days. 

That’s because many professing Christians don’t understand what it means to follow Jesus.  Too many believe in what Dietrich Bonhoeffer termed, ‘cheap grace.’  Somehow, we have reduced the beautiful, fathomless mystery of the Atonement to shorthand: ‘Jesus died so we don’t have to.’  There is truth in this, but the repetition of this truncated explanation has its flaws.  For one thing, it’s obviously wrong in that we do still die (last I checked, the death rate was still hovering around 100%).  But beyond this, this shorthand has bled into Christian thinking to the extent that it is commonly believed we need never lay down our lives for Jesus.  Indeed, we never have to suffer for Jesus.  His way does not require it.  There is no cost to following Jesus, because, after all, ‘Jesus paid it all.’

But while Jesus can be said to have paid it all in terms of the wages of sin, he most certainly did not call us to lives of ease.  He calls us to lives of surrender and sacrifice.  He calls us to ‘take up our crosses and follow him’ (Matthew 16:24).  He calls us to imitate him (Luke 6:40).  He tells us that ‘in this world you will have trouble, but take heart, for I have overcome the world’ (John 16:33).  He calls us to, as Wickham sings, bless those who curse us, forgive those who hurt us, love those who hate us, embrace those who strike us, and, yes, to even die rather than become violent ourselves, knowing that the worst thing the world can ever do to us will only bring about our own resurrection (‘if you kill me, my home is heaven’).  In short, no matter what the world does to us, our call is to love as Jesus loved, even to love our enemies to the point of death. 

This is a hard teaching, and it is no wonder few can accept it.  But it is the 100% Gospel truth.  When we ignore it, we get pretty much the Christian landscape we see before us in our present moment of American history.  Once people decide, ‘Jesus died so I don’t have to,’ a shift takes place in their minds.  If the goal of the Christian life is to stay alive, rather than give your life away, than it becomes easy to hate your enemy instead of loving them.  It becomes easy to join the chorus of demagoguery, scapegoating, war, and violence.  The goal, after all, is self-preservation and life the way you want it.  And so, if someone threatens you or your way of life, even a little, you have every right to curse them, demean them, dehumanize them, propose violence against them, even perpetrate that violence yourself. You no longer have to turn the other cheek when struck. Instead, you strike back as hard as you can even before you have been struck. ‘Do it to them before they do it to us,’ as Robert Prosky’s character on Hill Street Blues used to say.  As a member of Congress put it not too long ago, ‘Jesus could have avoided crucifixion if he’d had an AR-15.’  Remember: Jesus died so you don’t have to. So, while Jesus didn’t have one, maybe you should.

It’s utter blasphemy.  Jesus didn’t die so that we don’t have to.  He died to show us how to live.

The Jesus Way was never supposed to be easy, and it is a sin that we have made it so.  Bonhoeffer wrote, ‘the path of discipleship is unutterably hard,’ and that it is.  ‘To confess and testify to the truth of Jesus,’ he wrote, ‘and at the same time to love the enemies of the truth, his enemies and ours, and to love them with the infinite love of Jesus Christ, is indeed a narrow way.  To believe the promise of Jesus that his followers will possess the earth, and at the same time to face our enemies unarmed and defenseless, preferring to incur injustice rather than do wrong ourselves, is indeed a narrow way.’  But it is the way to which we have been called.    In the early church, it was common for new disciples to be asked, as they joined the community, whether they were willing to die for Jesus.  I don’t suppose that would be considered good marketing these days.  But the hard truth is that until a person becomes willing to give up their life for Jesus and his way, they aren’t really following him.  He said it himself: you cannot be his disciple unless you are willing to take up your cross. 

I don’t mean to make myself sound like a brave saint.  In all honesty, I get nervous writing like this.  I do not seek martyrdom.  But the path of discipleship does, for some, require it.  And I, like anyone who desires to follow Jesus, must accept this.  We cannot meet curses with more curses, hurt with more hurt, hate with more hate, violence with more violence.  We face the world armed only with the weapons of prayer and unlimited love.  As Athanasius of Alexandria said in the 4th Century AD, ‘Christians, instead of arming themselves with swords, extend their hands in prayer.’ 

Mr. Wickham, you have thrown down the gauntlet, and for that I thank you.  You have challenged the Church, you have challenged me, to commit once again to the call of Jesus.  And so, begging your pardon for using your words once more, I end with this:

I choose surrender

I choose to love

Oh, God my Savior,

You’ll always be enough

I choose forgiveness

I choose grace

I choose to worship

No matter what I face

I follow Jesus

I follow Jesus

He wore my sin, I’ll gladly wear his name

He is the treasure

He is the answer

Oh, I choose the Jesus way

I hope all reading this do too. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Armed Like Jesus

‘We and the world, my children, will always be at war. Retreat is impossible. Arm yourselves’ – Leif Enger, in Peace Like a River

Today I am almost at a loss for words.  Yesterday, in the wake of so much violence, including mass shootings whose victims made the mistake of engaging in such activities as shopping for groceries, attending church, or going to school, a tone-deaf, ivory-towered, and constitutionally confused majority of the Supreme Court issued a ruling on gun rights that will make it difficult, if not impossible, for federal, state, and local governments to enact reasonable laws governing the possession and use of firearms, and, in fact, calls into question every regulation presently on the books.  While the decision is hot off the presses and needs careful analysis before too much is said about its full scope, there can be no doubt that the Court’s action will result in more guns, and, consequently, more gun violence, in America. 

And once again, there will be those who call themselves Christians cheering in the streets.  No, much worse than that.  They will be heading to gun stores to buy more guns and ammo. 

What can one say to this?  Probably little of value if it comes from my own spinning head.  So I will turn to the story of Jesus, the story in which his followers are to look for guidance in all situations, specifically to an event wherein Jesus expressed his feelings on the subject of arming oneself.[1]

Jesus had gone to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray, knowing that in the coming hours, he would be arrested, convicted, and sentenced to die on a cross.  One of his followers, Judas, who had already betrayed him, knew to find him there.  He therefore came to the garden, guiding both religious officials and a detachment of soldiers (Jewish and Roman) armed with swords and clubs. 

Judas had told the soldiers, ‘Arrest the man I greet with a kiss.’  And so, upon seeing Jesus, Judas approached and kissed him.  The soldiers then moved in for the take down. 

That’s when Simon Peter, one of two disciples who had brought swords with them to the garden, drew his and swung wildly in defense of his Master.  His attempt was somewhat lame, as he only succeeded in cutting off the ear of Malchus, the High Priest’s servant. 

Jesus immediately rebuked his violent disciple. ‘Drop your Sword!’ he shouted.  ‘Everyone who lives by a sword dies by the sword.  Do you not know that I could call upon my Father for twelve legions of angels to fight for me?  But how then could the scriptures me fulfilled?’ 

Turning to the mob, he chastised them for thinking he would ever use force or lead a violent rebellion, even in self-defense.  He had come to save, not to kill.  As if to drive the point home, he healed Malchus before their eyes.    

Jesus then allowed the soldiers to arrest him.  They took him first to the religious authorities, and subsequently to Pilate, the Roman Governor, before whom he was tried, convicted, and sentenced to die.  Then he went to Calvary, where he prayed for his enemies even as they killed him.

At no point did he call on the angels. 

Apparently, not every professing Christian believes Jesus made the right call.  A member of the United States Congress, Lauren Boebert (R-CO), who claims to be a follower of Jesus, recently told a church gathering that Jesus didn’t have enough AR-15s to craft a different ending to the story.  If only Jesus had been a little more attached to the idea of self-defense.  If only he had allowed Peter to swing that sword.  If only he had armed himself with the legions of heaven.  If only he had armed his disciples with guns. 

Talk about missing the point.     

The point is that Jesus, when confronted with his impending death, refused the use of swords (or AR-15s, or handguns, or anything else) in his defense.  He clearly stated that the way of the sword was not his way.  Nor would it be for his followers.  The early church father Tertullian put it well when he said that when Christ disarmed Peter, he disarmed every Christian.

In the wake of the Supreme Court’s ruling, I fear what it will be like to live in a world where anyone can simply carry guns on their person, concealed or otherwise, wherever they go.  I fear what it will be like to live in a world where the people carrying them include those whose anger is already sent to full rage and ready to explode at the slightest provocation.  I fear what it will be like to live in a world where so many well-armed men and women are ready, willing, and able to carry out the violent rage fantasies of the political leaders they follow.  I fear what it will be like for my children to live a world where people who may hate them for their beliefs, the color of their skin, or some other ridiculous reason, will be both armed and enraged by their mere existence. 

How does one navigate through such a world? 

Maybe Tertullian is wrong and Boebert is right.  In a world such as this, perhaps the only thing to do world is to arm ourselves.  To take advantage of the Supreme Court’s decision and start packing heat. 

But no, we must instead look to Jesus.  Jesus lived in a violent world.  In fact, he lived in a world that was armed to the teeth.  Roman soldiers carried swords and were not afraid to use them.  Temple Guards carried swords and clubs.  Nationalist zealots carried daggers, eager to wield them at any moment against their enemies (their goal, by the way, was to toss out the Romans and make Israel great again).  Even Jesus’ disciples, despite everything he had taught them over the course of years, carried two swords with them to the table of the Last Supper, and on to the Garden.  One was even foolish enough to swing one. 

How did Jesus navigate through such a world?  By doing the opposite of the fools around him.  By refusing to arm himself.   

And yet, that isn’t exactly true, is it?  For while he did not carry a sword, he did carry the weapons of love and trust.  As he went about his business in a world that was armed with swords, even as he journeyed to the cross, he armed himself only with limitless love for the world and relentless trust in his Father – and called his followers to do the same.[2]

It is Tertullian, not Boebert, who understands Jesus correctly. 

Folks, the world we live in is violent and becoming more so.  And in such a world, there is only one thing to do for those who follow Jesus.  Drop our swords, trust our Father, and walk in love. 

We and the world are indeed at war.  The world loves violence.  It loves guns.  It believes the best thing in the world is a ‘good guy with a gun.’  Jesus says that the best thing in the world is a good guy without one. 

So yes, by all means, arm yourselves. 

But arm yourselves like Jesus. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] For the original Gospel versions, see Matthew 26:47-56; Mark 14:43-52; Luke 22:47-53; and John 18:1-11.

[2] See, Matthew 16:24.

Pray for Peace

‘He is risen, and he reigns in the hearts of the children who will love while the nations rage‘ – Rich Mullins

This morning I awoke to the news that, as expected, Russia had invaded Ukraine.  As I searched for some sort of response to this tragedy, a couple of things happened. 

The first was that I remembered the story of King Jehoshaphat in 2 Chronicles 20.  Jehoshaphat, the King of Judah, received terrible news that an alliance of nations had arrayed against him and was marching on Jerusalem.  The Chronicler reports that he was ‘terrified by the news and begged the Lord for guidance.’  Jehoshaphat ordered everyone in Judah to begin fasting, stood before his community in front of the Temple courtyard, and offered up one of the most amazing prayers in all of scripture:

‘O Lord, God of our ancestors, you alone are the God who is in heaven.  You are the ruler of all the kingdoms of the earth.  You are powerful and mighty; no one can stand against you!  O our God, did you not drive out those who lived in this land when your people Israel arrived?  And did you not give this land forever to the descendants of your friend Abraham?  Your people settled here and built this Temple to honor your name.  They said, ‘Whenever we are faced with any calamity, such as war, plague, or famine, we can come to stand in your presence before this Temple where your name is honored.  We can cry out to you to save us, and you will hear and rescue us.  And now see what the armies of Ammon, Moab, and Mount Seir are doing.  You would not let our ancestors invade those nations when Israel left Egypt, so they went around them and did not destroy them.  Now see how they reward us!  For they have come to throw us out of your land, which you gave us as an inheritance. O our God, won’t you stop them?  We are powerless against this mighty army that is about to attack us.  We do not know what to do, but we are looking to you for help’ (2 Chronicles 20:6-12, NLT).

In the wake of this prayer, God spoke to the people of Judah through a prophet who told the people not to be afraid, but to go out to meet the enemy, not to fight, but to watch the Lord deliver them.  The people received this news by bowing before the Lord and worshipping. 

The next morning, they marched out to meet the enemy.  At the front were neither warriors nor chariots, but a choir, singing, ‘Give thanks to the Lord; his faithful love endures forever!’  The moment their song began, the armies arrayed against Judah began fighting among themselves.  By the time the Judeans arrived at the battlefield, the enemy was gone.  Victory had been won without the raising of a single Judean sword, and the Lord established peace for Judah throughout the remainder of Jehoshaphat’s reign. 

Now, I know, things don’t always work out like that.  It may not in Ukraine.  But the story is nonetheless a beautiful example of what can happen when God’s people pray.  It is a beautiful example of what God’s people should do when threatened: instead of relying on their own power, or trusting in chariots, as the Psalmist puts it (see, Psalm 20:7), they should rely solely on the power of the Living God.  As Jehoshaphat prayed, when we don’t know what to do (and in all honesty and humility, we never do), we must turn to God for help. 

The second thing that happened was that I received an image from my son in Rwanda, Emmanuel, of a group of Ukrainian Christians kneeling in the snow, praying for the deliverance of their country.

I didn’t know what the picture was at first, but when Emmanuel told me, tears came to my eyes.  Here was the remnant of Jehoshaphat’s people.  Here was the Kingdom of the Lamb. 

In recent weeks, I have read reports of grandmothers and small children training to fight the Russians when they come (which they now have).  The images were startling.  It seems that many believe the answer to war is more war; to strike against one’s enemies by using their tactics.  As I’ve beheld those images, I’ve recalled Jesus’ warning in Gethsemane to Peter to put his sword away, to not meet violence with violence, because ‘those who live by the sword die by the sword’ (Matthew 26:52). 

Jesus teaches us that there are other forms of resistance, other ways to stand against the dark powers that seek our destruction.  Paul refers to these other ways in 2 Corinthians 10:3-4, where he wrote:

‘For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does.  The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of this world.  On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds.’

I love Paul’s use of the words, ‘on the contrary;’ he is telling us that while the weapons of the world do not ultimately work (they only beget more violence), the weapons in the arsenal of Christianity have power to achieve things.  Weapons such as prayer and love are, he is telling us, the most powerful weapons in the world.  And, more importantly, the only weapons followers of Jesus are permitted to use.  In the Kingdom of the Lamb, the only way to overcome enemies is with love and prayer. 

Jesus himself is our example in this.  As is the early church, who, when beset by enemies, gathered and prayed:

‘Why do the nations rage, and the people’s plot in vain?  The kings of the earth prepared for battle; they gathered together against the Lord and his anointed one…Oh Lord, hear their threats, and give us, your servants, boldness in preaching your word.  Stretch out your hand with healing power; may miraculous signs and wonders be done through the name of your holy servant Jesus’ (See, Acts 4:25-30). 

We need to take the example of Jehoshaphat, the early church, and those Ukrainian believers kneeling in the snow, to heart.  We live in unraveling times.  The leader of Russia has become (likely has always been) a madman intent on building an empire.  China too is eyeing the expansion of their own.  In America, we have a former President, who may become one again, praising Putin even as he makes his power grab, and the bitter prospect of rising autocracy within our own borders.  What does one do in times such as these? 

The nations rage.  The peoples plot in vain.  Those with worldly minds, who follow the way of the dragon, strike back, meet force with force, violence with violence, hurt with hurt. 

But the children of the Lamb pray, in the snow and elsewhere.  They sing ‘Give thanks to the Lord; his faithful love endures forever!’  They conquer by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony (see, Revelation 12:11).  They pray for the redemption of their enemies, or, failing that, some other intervention by God to establish peace.  They do not live by the sword.  They live by love.  They pray.  They model peace.  They may not know what to do themselves, but they look to the Living God for help. 

Today I ask all who read this to pray.  Pray for the people of Ukraine.  Pray for the miraculous transformation of Vladimir Putin’s heart.  Pray for the transformation of all who would use violence or do evil in this world.  Pray for the dramatic intervention of God.  Pray for the establishment of peace.  Pray believing that the God of Jehoshaphat is still on His throne and still mighty to save.  For He most certainly is. 

This is the way of the Lamb’s Kingdom. 

May we walk in it.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Loss

‘Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle’ – attributed, variously, to Socrates or Plato

‘When Jesus saw the crowd, he was filled with compassion’ – Matthew 14:14

All week long I felt it coming.  I had no idea what ‘it’ was.  Not because I had no way of knowing, but because my mind blocked it.  But I felt it: a dark, looming remembrance waiting to catch me unawares and take me down.  I went to bed last night in one of those funks that you can’t explain but makes the world feel like a hopeless, compassionless place.  Somehow, I fell asleep, and this morning, I woke to the realization of what ‘it’ was. 

Today is Friday.  One year ago, four months after losing my Mom to cancer, my family and I learned that my Dad had tested positive for Covid.  Less than three days later, in the early hours of Monday morning, he was gone too. 

I wrote a tribute to my Dad that week.  It was the only way to process the loss.  We could not have a funeral.  A short time later, in the midst of hissy fits over mask-wearing, the insanity of a ‘plandemic’ conspiracy theory, and comments about how Covid was no big deal because old people died all the time anyway, I penned and posted The Great Divide, wherein I noted that the pandemic was bound to produce two different groups of people in our society: those who lost loved ones to Covid and those who did not.  The latter group, I feared, would simply never understand what the former was going through. 

A year later, with nearly 570,000 deaths in the United States alone that former group is millions strong.  I am thankful for the emergence of a third group, people who have not lost loved ones, but whose compassionate hearts have responded with sensitivity, grace, and a willingness to sacrifice for the sake of the vulnerable.  If you belong to that group, I thank you. 

But I have to be honest.  Most days, I don’t feel thankful.  Most days, and maybe especially this week, as I wrestle with my loss and watch a world that is mostly just excited to move on, I feel only sadness and pain.  Most days, I feel as if most people don’t and never will understand.  If I am really being honest, most days, I feel as if most people don’t and never will care. 

The fact that some will be mad at me for being honest about my feelings only proves my point.  Am I not allowed to grieve?  Must those of us who have lost loved ones keep to ourselves and remain quiet?  Must we suffer silently so as not to ruin anyone else’s good time? 

A couple of weeks ago, I urged the people in the church I serve to be kind to one another as we (hopefully) emerge from the pandemic.  Many are struggling, for all sorts of reasons, not just the loss of loved ones.  Many have suffered loss.  And for many, those losses have been far greater than the ‘loss of freedom’ due to the restrictions designed to save lives, or the inability to get their hair done at the salon, or having to forego a weekly gathering at the local watering hole.  Many are emerging with emotional, psychological, and spiritual scars.  And many have had to endure the loss of people they love, whether to Covid or something else, while the world around them hasn’t seemed to care one bit. 

So today, I urge again that people be kind.  As you make decisions and interact with people in the coming weeks and months, let mercy lead you.  Be sensitive and compassionate in your encounters with others, especially with those who have suffered loss.  Kindness is what the folks on the dark side of the Great Divide need right now. 

One more thing.  If you haven’t done so already, please, get vaccinated.  Maybe you think it won’t make much difference for you, but for the vulnerable, like my Dad was in late April of 2020, it could mean the difference between life and death. 

And for those of us who grieve, your demonstration of compassion will mean the world. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Photo from a memorial to Covid victims in Belmar, NJ, taken by my sister Kate MacDonald.

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

Sympathy for Qaddafi

‘God doesn’t want anyone to be destroyed.  He wants everyone to come to repentance’ – Peter, aka The Rock, in 2 Peter 3:9

I remember the day I saw the video.  Muammar Qaddafi, the man responsible for countless acts of terrorism, had been found hiding in a culvert by revolutionaries seeking to end his reign in Libya.  The video depicted an old man in the hands of his enemies, being led through the streets and pelted by rocks.  The crowd mocked him as he was led away to his death.  He appeared bewildered and begged for mercy.  The rocks continued to fly.  So did the fists.  The crowd was having a good time watching their enemy suffer.  Thankfully the network cut the video before the most brutal part.  In the end, Qaddafi was shot several times while pleading for his life. 

The video affected me in an unexpected way.  I had been trained from my High School days to see this man as the enemy – a brutal thug who needed to be brought to his knees.  Here he was, being brought to his knees.  Justice was being served.  Qaddafi was getting what he so richly deserved. 

But I didn’t feel any of that.  Instead, as I watched Qaddafi beg for his life and saw the profound sadness in his eyes, the bewilderment he felt as he realized his life had come to this, I found myself feeling sorry for him.  I even found myself praying for him.  Specifically, I found myself praying that God had used those final moments to draw Qaddafi to Himself, that he might realize the futility of his former ways, repent of all he had done, and fall into the arms of Jesus. 

I could hardly believe it.  Why was I feeling sorry for a guy like Qaddafi?  What in the world was wrong with me?  So much of the world was rejoicing.  Celebrating the notion that he would rot in hell.  And there I was, yes, this is true, with tears in my eyes, praying for his salvation. 

Seriously, what was wrong with me?

But then I remembered Good Times. 

For those of you too young to remember, Good Times was a 1970s comedy loosely based on the play, A Raisin in the Sun.  It chronicled the lives of the Evans family – an African American family living in the projects on the south side of Chicago.  The most famous character was the eldest son, J.J. Evans, whose signature, ‘Dy-no-mite!’ was all the rage for a time.  Other characters included J.J.’s siblings, Thelma and Michael, their parents, James and Florida, and of course, their nosy next-door neighbor Wilona. 

One episode had a profound impact upon me. It revolved around J.J. falling in with the wrong crowd.  He had taken up with a street gang, whose leader was a dude called ‘Mad Dog.’  I remember his first introduction to the family.  After meeting Thelma, he laughed and said, ‘Thelma?  What kind of mother would give birth to a daughter and name her Thelma?’  Thelma shot back, ‘the same kind of mother who would give birth to a boy and name him ‘Mad Dog!’  The long and the short of the story is that the Evans family tries to keep J.J. from further involvement with Mad Dog’s gang, and when J.J. attempts to break away, Mad Dog shoots him.  Fortunately, J.J. pulls through. Mad Dog, however, is left to pay the piper in a court of law.

J.J.’s father, James, Sr., goes to the courthouse for Mad Dog’s sentencing hearing to make sure the punishment is as severe as it should be.  He tells his wife Florida that if the judge doesn’t do his job, he will take care of the matter himself.  As the hearing unfolds, it looks like it just might come to that.  The judge is told there is no room in the jail, so Mad Dog escapes with probation.  James Evans Sr. is livid.  The man who shot his own son is getting away scot-free.  Mad Dog walks out of the courtroom, cocky as ever, followed by his mother, and then James, loaded for bear.  Just as he is about to turn the corner and confront the man who shot his son, he hears Mad Dog arguing with his mother, and in the course of listening to the argument, he learns a thing or two about Mad Dog’s past. 

Mad Dog had a pretty rough life.  Among other things, he had been abandoned by his father.  He and his mom argue some more, and the mother walks away.  She informs her son that she is washing her hands of him forever. Mad Dog shouts, ‘Fine!  Leave me just like everyone else!  See if I care!’  That’s when Mad Dog notices that James is standing around the corner.  He runs over to him and says, with tears in his eyes, ‘You want to hit me, go ahead and hit me!’  James suddenly can’t do it; ‘I don’t want to hit you son,’ is all he can say.  Mad Dog gets angrier, ‘Go on man, hit me, everyone else does!’  James again refuses, ‘No son, I won’t hit you.’  Mad Dog shouts, ‘Stop it!  Why are you calling me son?  Don’t call me Son!  What’s the matter with you!  What’s the matter with all of you!’  And then, tearfully, Mad Dog walks away. 

Florida comes around the corner.  She’s heard everything.  She goes to James and holds him.  James breaks down.  ‘I had him Florida,’ he says, ‘he even asked me to hit him, and I couldn’t do it.  What’s wrong with me?  Tell me, what kind of a father feels sorry for the man who shot his own son?’ 

I’ll never forget Florida’s response, ‘the right kind James – the right kind.’ 

Even as a kid that brought tears to my eyes.  It does even now.  It taught me something about mercy, understanding, and forgiveness.  It taught me about the kind of love that leads us to feel sorry for our enemies.  That episode, and especially that line – ‘the right kind James – the right kind,’ has had a profound impact on the way I think and act, at least in my better moments, down to this day. 

And so, I suppose that maybe, the reason I felt sorry for Qaddafi had a lot to do with James Evans.  Blame it on Good Times. 

Or maybe, blame it on God. 

Because you see, God loves and understands people the way James Evans does.  He loves and understands all the Mad Dogs of the world.  He understands why they are the way they are.  Even Qaddafi.  In fact, from the very foundations of eternity, he saw Qaddafi, and a whole slew of others like him who might make you want to turn violent yourself and said, ‘I love these guys.  I love them so much that I have decided to die for them that they might be restored.’

And if God thinks that way, shouldn’t we?

Which is why, to this day, whenever I think of Qaddafi’s last moments, I still feel sorry for him.  And I hope that somehow, God in his infinite and matchless grace found a way to reach him.  Even if it was at the very threshold of eternity.  I hope that something happened between the two of them that led to Qaddafi’s repentance, and that someday, at the ‘universal restoration of all things’ (Acts 3:21), when everything is restored to the way God intends it to be, Qaddafi will be there, renewed by Jesus, living as the man God intended him to be. 

And if that bothers you, well, what can I say?  Take it up with James Evans. 

Or better still, take it up with the God who desires everyone to come to repentance. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Note: the image featured above is a portion of an early work of art from the catacombs. The full image imagines the scene from the Last Judgment as described in Matthew 25: 31-46. The portion shown here depicts Jesus rescuing a goat.

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