The Gospel is Political

‘You are the light of the world, like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden.‘ Matthew 5:14 (NLT)

A number of years ago I saw a movie about life in South Africa. I can’t remember which movie, but I will never forget one scene. In a time of national upheaval, a white pastor took to his pulpit and spoke against apartheid. The result was predictable. Most of his white congregation walked out. The scene is a classic example of why many pastors feel the need to steer clear of political or social issues, no matter how compelling they may be. From time immemorial, pastors have received such advice. In South Africa. In antebellum America. During the Civil Rights movement. In Nazi Germany. The affairs of state belong to the state. Pastors need to ‘stay in their lane.’ ‘The Gospel,’ they say, ‘has nothing to do with politics.’

There is only one problem with that line of reasoning: the Gospel has everything to do with politics. The Gospel is, by its very nature, political.

Let me explain.

Let’s begin with a simple question: what is the Gospel? Many Christians call it the Good News of Salvation through Jesus Christ, and they are of course right. But those who define it as such often limit ‘salvation’ to what happens after death. The Gospel, for many Christians, is the Good News that, because of Jesus, you get to go to heaven when you die. But even the most cursory reading of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John (aka the Gospels), reveals that Jesus’ Gospel is concerned with far more than one’s eternal destination. Jesus’ Gospel is deeply invested, for example, in providing assistance to the poor, caring for the sick, welcoming the stranger, extending hospitality to the marginalized and oppressed, and generally speaking, standing up for justice and fairness in their absence. All of this is included in Jesus’ salvation message. Jesus is concerned for this world, not just the one that is to come.

The problem, therefore, in defining the ‘Gospel as the Good News of Salvation…’ is that in many Christian circles, the concept of salvation has been effectively removed from the present concerns of the world. Which is why many, including myself, define the Gospel the way Jesus did, as the Good News of the Kingdom of God (Mark 1:14-15). Defining the Gospel this way is both Biblical and clarifying, but in order to understand the clarification, we need to ask a second question: ‘what is the Kingdom of God?’

Well, this is where I have to warn you, the answer to that one will take a while (sorry, this isn’t a short post). We start with the word, kingdom. Most of the time, when the Bible speaks of a kingdom, it speaks of a political empire – a world power that seeks to dominate and control others. The Bible does not speak highly of such powers. In Daniel 7, just prior to announcing the eventual coming of God’s Kingdom, it describes the prevailing political empires as beasts – monstrous, frightening things that destroy and devour everything in their wake. Throughout the Bible, Babylon, one of Daniel’s four beasts, becomes the quintessential embodiment of political empire. In Revelation, empire (specifically Rome, but symbolically future powers as well) is not only pegged with the ‘beast’ moniker, but also the name, ‘whore of Babylon’ (Revelation 17-18). That’s what the Bible thinks of the world’s empires. It calls them beasts and whores. Satan even claims to have authority over all of them (Luke 4:6). And seriously, who can doubt it?

But there is another way the Bible uses the word ‘kingdom,’ and that is with the phrase, the Kingdom of God. This phrase refers to the kingly reign of God on earth through the life and witness of people who follow God’s Messiah. This Kingdom is very different. It is no devouring beast. It does not seek domination and control. Instead, it follows the way of Calvary Love. It seeks to serve, not to be served. It doesn’t have a power center, a nation, or a capitol. It is a multinational community of people from every nation, tribe, and tongue who follow the path of Jesus. One might wonder whether it should be called a kingdom at all, but God has chosen to do so in order to explicitly set His Reign and Rule over and against the kingdoms of the world. His is the one Kingdom that shall outlast all others (Daniel 7:14).

So what does God’s Kingdom do? How does it manifest itself? How does it exist in the sea of political empire? Simple. Its citizens stand at the crossroads of whatever empire they find themselves in and live out an alternative set of values. And as they do, they by their very existence show the world another way. By living according to the principle of love as opposed to domination, they continuously critique and shame the powers of the world (See, Colossians 2:15). The Kingdom of God, by its very existence, is a prophetic critique of political power, an alternative polis (Greek for city) juxtaposed against the polis of empire. It is a polis on a hill, rising above the kingdoms of the world, shining light for all to see, continuously proclaiming, loudly and clearly, that the ways and methods of empire are wrong, and the ways and methods of Jesus are right.

So, when Jesus announced the Good News (Gospel) of the Kingdom, he was announcing that this alternative polis had come. He was calling people to repent, not just of their personal sins, but of their participation in the ways and methods of empire. The very language Jesus used, kingdom language, was political in nature. Jesus had thrown down the gauntlet before the empires of the world, declaring that a new polis, a new Kingdom, had come. This, by the way, was what made Jesus so threatening to the powers that be. There was a reason why he was ultimately crucified as an enemy of the Roman State. He had been encouraging people to join a movement that proclaimed, loudly and clearly, that Jesus was Lord, and Caesar was not; that the way of empire was wrong, and the way of God’s Kingdom was right.

It is to this alternative kingdom, the Kingdom of God, that the followers of Jesus belong. His followers are therefore citizens of this alternative society, and must live as such. To do so is perilous. It puts us on a collision course with the way of empire. Why? Because, if I may paraphrase Stephen Mattson, sometimes to be a good citizen of God’s Kingdom, you have to be a bad citizen of the empire you live in. Whenever there is a clash of Kingdom values, the call of the Jesus follower is to obey the values of God’s Kingdom over the world’s (Acts 5:29). We must live and act in accordance with the values of Jesus’ Kingdom at all times, shunning the way of domination, control, and violence. Those who follow the way of empire don’t like this.

What this does NOT mean, is that followers of Jesus must withdraw from the world. Jesus did not. Nor did the early church. No, the call of Jesus is to go into the world and proclaim the Kingdom. We do this by our actions, standing at the crossroads of culture and showing the world another way. And we do so with our words. Like the prophets of old, we speak truth to power, pointing away from what is wrong and pointing toward what is right. This always gets messy. But citizens of the Kingdom must speak the truth. Indeed, if we do not speak it, how will anyone ever find their way into the Kingdom? (See, Romans 10:14).

This is how the Gospel is political. Not in the sense that citizens of God’s Kingdom should ever enmesh themselves in the power politics of the world. Indeed, that is precisely what we must avoid – becoming entangled in the affairs and ways of the world make it impossible for us to follow Jesus (2 Timothy 2:4). And not in the sense that we ever align ourselves with governments, politicians, or political parties. But in the sense that we, by our lifestyle, actions, and words prophetically critique the powers of the world. We are to embody a new way of being human, and to challenge the old way at every turn. Yes, we must do so with gentleness and love. But do it we must. Such ‘political action’ is essential to the integrity of the Gospel. Indeed, a gospel that fails to take part in such action is, to borrow Paul’s famous phrase, ‘no gospel at all’ (Galatians 1:7).

And so, that South African pastor was right. When citizens of Jesus’ polis on a hill see the empires behaving as empires do, it is incumbent upon them to both live differently and speak out against what is happening. For example:

When the empire preaches hate – we preach love.

When the empire says war – we say peace.

When the empire acts with cruelty – we promote mercy.

When the empire stirs up fear – we summon up courage.

When the empire preaches exclusion – we preach acceptance.

When the empire builds walls – we build bridges.

When the empire says life is disposable – we say life is sacred.

When the empire protects the interests of the rich – we intercede on behalf of the poor.

When the empire asks us to give allegiance to idols – we give ours to Christ alone.

And, just to put a fine point on it, I think I will add a few things about our empire’s current ‘Emperor.’

When the emperor tears children from the arms of their parents – we say families belong together.

When the emperor puts children in cages – we say set them free.

When the emperor disparages and endangers black and brown lives – we say they matter.

When the emperor demeans women – we stand up for our sisters.

When the emperor says anything, or proposes any policy, that is contrary to the compassionate, loving way of Jesus, the King of our Kingdom, we oppose it, and point people in the direction of another way.

Basically, when the emperor has no clothes – we say so.

That’s what Kingdom citizens do. It’s sure as heck fire what I intend to do. And when the empire and those who follow it complain that I’m getting too political, that I need to ‘stay in my lane’ and be quiet, I’ll just remind them:

The Gospel is political.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

His Eye is on the Blue Jay

‘That is why I tell you not to worry…Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are?‘

– Matthew 6:26 NLT

Today I have been housebound. My wife has jury duty (ugh!), and I am home with the kids (we homeschool). It’s a day off for the kids, but I’ve been trying to get a few things done. Sitting on the front porch with my laptop, my mind drifted back about ten years to an adventure I had on another work at home sort of day. And since this is turning out to be a slow day, I figured I would write about it. I hope it encourages you.

It was a nice day, and I was working at a table beside the sliding glass doors that overlooked our back yard when my dog bolted upright and began barking like crazy. I figured it was a squirrel rummaging through the garbage, but when I looked, I saw instead a baby blue jay. More accurately, a blue jay on the verge of adolescence. It had feathers, but its size and coloring suggested it was too young to be sitting in the shadow of my trash. Obviously, I concluded, the poor little guy had fallen from his nest and needed assistance – and I was just the guy to provide it (I could almost hear the Mighty Mouse theme: ‘here I come to save the day!’). I dialed several bird rescue agencies until I finally connected with a real person. ‘Success,’ I inwardly shouted, only to be put on hold. I hate being put on hold.

With nothing to do but listen to the agency’s cued up New Age music, I decided to use my time productively. It was warm outside, and so I figured the little guy needed a drink. Awkwardly, I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear, filled a little bowl with water and headed out to play hero. I put the bowl in front of him, but misunderstanding my good intentions, he flapped his fledgling wings, ascended to a mighty altitude of two inches, and fluttered a mere two feet away. He looked at me as if I was out of my mind. Frustrated but undaunted, I went back inside to regroup. ‘Birdseed!’ I thought, ‘That’s the ticket! What bird can resist birdseed?’ Alas, the cupboard was bare of birdseed. But such was my desire to be the Saint Francis of my time that I crumbled some crackers on a plate, called it birdseed, and made a second effort, this time with a fool proof plan. I would corral him so he could not get away, and then make nice with the crackers. There was no way I could fail! The bird would be so happy with me that he would spend the rest of his days singing outside my bedroom window.

There was just one thing I didn’t consider: baby blue jays have mothers.

She didn’t appreciate my noble effort at all. No sir-ee Bob. Oblivious to her presence or even existence, I made my way toward her baby, when – ZOOM – she came out of nowhere, a soaring blue blaze determined to destroy me, sent from the heavens above, careening at the last second just inches above my head. She made a racket that would have frightened Bear Grylls and had a ten foot wing span (OK, maybe not Bear Grylls, and maybe she was smaller than that, but hey, I’m trying to preserve my dignity here). I ran back to the shelter of the house, cracker crumbs trailing behind me, the stink of failure all over me, shouting all sorts of things like – well, this is a faith blog so let’s leave it there. All the while desperately endeavoring to keep the phone in its precarious place betwixt my neck and shoulder (which at least provided theme music for the event – life should always have theme music, don’t you think?).

It was in the midst of this donnybrook of man verses bird that I heard an understandably perplexed and somewhat frightened voice: ‘This is [whoever the heck she was]. Can I help you?’

Embarrassed, I attempted to explain myself. This was difficult, what with Mama blue jay swooping back and forth over the patio and roaring like a pterodactyl. She was feeling pretty strong let me tell you. It was as if her activity was meant to serve a dual purpose: keep me away from her little one and let him know she was there. She succeeded on both fronts: no way was I going back out there, and her baby was looking up at her the whole while. Moments before he had been agitated by my presence (the lousy ingrate, jk), but now, he was the very picture of serenity.

I told the bird lady what had happened, and she snickered like she had too much water up her nose. I got the sense she could barely contain herself. I didn’t see what was so funny. But then she explained that my helpless blue jay had never been in trouble. A mother blue jay, it turns out, will literally kick her babies out of the nest. It’s how they learn to fly. The idea is to encourage them to stretch their wings in an attempt to come home. All the while, the baby birds are perfectly safe. As they struggle to use their wings, she sits nearby and watches, chirping every so often to let them know she’s still there. If any big scary animals come by (like me), then the little tykes get an extra lesson on how blue jays defend themselves. The woman on the phone explained that as long as Mom was around, there was nothing to worry about, and that if I wanted to see for myself why mama blue jays put their young through this, I should just sit back and watch.

So I did. And let me tell you, it’s a beautiful thing to see a baby bird learn to fly. He fluttered about like a bumble bee on steroids over to the shade of a pine tree, and then, with a mighty stretch of his wings (for a baby bird) flew branch by branch up to his mom and his nest, where he was as safe as safe could be. As Mom cleaned him up after his adventure, you could almost hear her say, ‘well done, son, well done.’

I have to tell you, I felt like an idiot. All that time, I thought that little bird must have been so worried. But he wasn’t worried at all (at least until I entered the picture!). He knew he was watched over, protected, and provided for. And as I thought of that, I really felt like an idiot. Because I suddenly thought of all the times when I have felt lost and vulnerable, alone and afraid, outside the ‘nest’ of safety, imagining all sorts of terrible things that might happen to me. When in fact, I am being watched over too. I too am guarded and guided. I too am being provided for. Indeed, it may well be that the reason I am in the situation in the first place is because I need to learn something that will enable me to stretch my wings and fly. Something to help me find my way home. Something that will enable me to become everything that the one who watches over me desires me to be.

You know the song, don’t you?

Let not your heart be troubled
His tender word I hear.
And resting on his goodness
I lose my doubts and fears
Tho by the path he leadeth
But one step I may see
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me (Civilla D. Martin).


Jesus is right. We need to look to the birds. Both sparrows and blue jays. They have more sense than we do.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Under the Stars

‘Shine like stars in the universe‘ – Philippians 2:15

Well here it is, my first post on my new blog, Stars Above Me. Those of you who know me well may get the name, but others of you may not. So let me begin by telling you what it means. What follows is the story of my calling into ministry, a story I never get tired of telling.

It was years ago, and I was an unhappy attorney who wanted more out of life. I didn’t like what I was doing, and felt as if I was moving in the wrong direction. Discontented to the core of my being, I turned to God to discover what he wanted me to do with my life. There were many ways in which I sought Him, but by far the most significant was this: I would go out into my backyard each night to pray and watch the stars. I did this for many months, gazing at the wonders above me, talking to God, and hoping for the moment when he would talk back.

It all came down to one night when the moon was absent, the air was crisp, and the stars shone brighter than usual. As I gazed above, my attention fixed upon the light of two planets. On my right was the gentle, yellow glow of Venus. On my left, the soft orange-red of Mars. A canopy of stars in between. I got to thinking of being a traveler between two worlds. I stood between two planets, in a solar system of nine (yes, I’m counting Pluto), in a universe filled with countless more, revolving around billions of suns.

As I contemplated my place in the universe, an image from a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon popped into my mind: Calvin, six year old philosopher that he is, stands under a sky full of stars and shouts for all he is worth: ‘I’M SIGNIFICANT!’ only to add, in a more subdued tone, ‘said the dust speck.’

I felt pretty small in that moment.

But soon the moment passed, and the lyrics to the song His Eyes by Steven Curtis Chapman came into my heart: ‘Sometimes I look above me, when stars are shining, and I feel so small. How could the God of heaven, and all creation, know I’m here at all? But then in the silence he whispers, ‘My child, I created you too. And you’re my most precious creation. I even gave my Son for you.’

It was in that moment that I heard God’s voice. I was overwhelmed by God’s unconditional love. And like that (snap!) I knew exactly what God wanted me to do. I knew that it broke God’s heart that so many people live in the dark concerning his love. I knew that it was my calling to help make as many as possible aware of it. Suddenly the thought that anyone would ever stand between two worlds, under a canopy of stars, and feel insignificant was unbearable. People need to know they were priceless. They need to know that no matter how battered, beat up, broken, or bruised they may be, everyone, in God’s eyes, is more precious than the stars.

Before long I was in seminary, and the rest, as they say, is history. For nearly twenty years, I have done my best, as a student, pastor, writer, and neighbor to let others know of God’s love. It is my hope that this blog will be an extension of the mission God gave me: to let my world know that there is a God who loves, universally and without condition, and that he has been revealed to us in Jesus.

Yet there is more to say. There was a time when I thought my mission was to be carried out primarily through acts of compassion and telling the story of Jesus. These remain central to the mission, but in recent years my journey has taken an unexpected turn into the realm of activism. The world we live in is becoming increasingly characterized by hate, fear, and violence. Evil, ever present, is on the rise. There is so much that is antithetical to God’s love. Worse yet, this hate, fear, and violence (not to mention apathy toward it) exists within the Church. The very place that should be most loving is often the least loving. I have seen Christians I once admired pulled into the darkness, supporting cruel and heartless policies. Misrepresenting God. Misrepresenting Jesus. Misrepresenting the unconditional love that deems every life significant and worth dying for. Not all Christians are doing this. Many are speaking out. But many are not. Many are, by their action and inaction, complicit in the cruelty.

And so, in this blog I will write positively to tell stories and faith lessons about faith, grace, and the unconditional love of God. But I will also write in the spirit of resistance. I will write against all that distorts God’s love, all that mischaracterizes Jesus. My goal will be to point away from a misguided world (and church) to the way of Jesus’ Kingdom, which is all and always about the expansion of God’s love in the world.

I hope you will follow my posts. I pray they will point you to the one who spoke to my heart on that night long ago from beyond the stars above me. I pray that you will come to know the real Jesus, the one sent from the heart of the God who loves.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

He is Worthy

‘Is anyone worthy?  Is anyone whole?  Is anyone able to break the seal and open the scroll?’ – Andrew Peterson

‘Worthy is the Lamb who was slaughtered – To receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessing.’ -Revelation 5:12

The island of Patmos.  John is a prisoner of Rome, another victim of Imperial power.  But hope abounds, for John has of late received glorious visions.  Gazing across the cerulean sea, he beholds sights no eye has seen or tongue can adequately describe.  One such sight is before him now. 

The Father is on his throne.  The view is dazzling.  He is surrounded by angel armies, representatives of creation, and the people of God.  In His hand is a scroll sealed seven times.  When this scroll is opened, history as we know it will be come to an end.  God will step onto the stage and set the world to rights.  No more war.  No more violence.  No more disease.  No more pain.  The home of God will be with His people.  Creation restored.  All things made new.  That scroll represents, in a word, hope: hope that all that is wrong will be vanquished and all that is right will conquer.

John knows this. 

An angel cries across the landscape of heaven, ‘who is worthy to break the seals and open the scroll?’

John nearly bursts with anticipation.  This is the moment.  All things will be made new. 

But then, nothing.  For there is no one in heaven or on earth who is worthy to bring about the grand renewal of all things. 

Now, if you know the rest of the story, forget that you know it for a moment.  Imagine this were actually the case.  That there was no one worthy to break the seal and open that scroll.  How would you feel?  Devastated doesn’t even come close.  Imagine if, in the end, nothing is made new, and things go on as they do forever.  Exploitation of the powerless at the hands of the powerful.  The subjugation of peoples at the hands of empire.  Disease.  Death.  Violence.  Racism.  Hate.  War.  Slavery.  Sex Trafficking.  Imagine if these things were to continue forever.  If no one was able to put an end to them.  If humanity’s hope for a better world turned out to be a farce.  If the worst thing that ever happened to you continued to haunt you until the end of your days.  If sorrow would forever have the last word.  If wrong would never be put to right.

John ‘wept bitterly’ at such a thought (Rev. 5:4).  As well he should, for his dreams of restoration, dreams that had been the driving force of his life and had empowered him to endure suffering for the sake of a better world to come were, in that moment, completely dashed.  The love he built his hope upon would not win.  The world would continue as it always had.  Death would win.  Violence would win.  Cancer would win.  Cruelty would win.  Yes, John, weep bitter tears, for the world will remain bitter until it simply is no more. 

Thankfully, this is not true. 

I don’t know how long John wept, but while he wept, a visitor entered the heavenly court.  With the meekness and appearance of a lamb, Jesus steps before the throne of His Father.  One of the People of God shouts, ‘Stop weeping!  Behold – the Lion of Judah.  He has won!  He is worthy to break the seal and open the scroll!’

Slowly, reverently, Jesus approaches the throne of the Ancient of Days and takes the scroll from his Father’s hand.  In an instant, the angel armies, creation, and the People of God fall to their knees.  Their joy is beyond description.  For the day has come.  All things will be made new.  Love will win. 

The People of God begin to sing:

‘You are worthy to take the scroll and break its seals and open it. For you were slaughtered, and your blood has ransomed people for God from every tribe, and language, and people, and nation. And you have caused them to become a Kingdom of priests for our God. And they shall reign on earth.’

Then the angels add their voices:

‘Worthy is the Lamb who was slaughtered – to receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessing.’

And finally, all creation joins the chorus:

‘Blessing and honor and glory and power belong to the one sitting on the throne and to the Lamb forever and ever. Amen.’

Incredible.  At the end of history, the one who will bring things to a close will be the one who was slaughtered like a lamb.  Not the power brokers.  Not the generals.  Not the Presidents or Prime Ministers.  Not the rich and powerful.  But the King who served rather than be served.  The Lover who loved in the face of hate.  The Lion who lived like a lamb.  The warrior who overcame the world, not with a sword, but with a cross. 

The scene John describes in Revelation 5 has been on my mind a lot these days.  Part of the reason is that I recently discovered Andrew Peterson’s song that describes it, ‘Is He Worthy?’  It’s been weeks since I first heard that song and I’m still waking up at night feeling the sheer joy of its words.  The other part is that I’ve been thinking a lot about the Lordship of Jesus; what it means to say that Jesus is Lord. I live in a world where people have mixed allegiances.  Even Christians, who should be single-minded in their devotion to Christ, often practice a syncretistic faith that seeks to honor Jesus alongside of other gods: nationalism, militarism, consumerism, and a thousand others.  Those gods, or at least those who follow them, are constantly being held before me, even by professing Christians, as worthy of adulation and imitation.  I am asked, in one way or another, to give them my praise and allegiance.  But when I remember the scene in Revelation 5, I am reminded that Jesus alone is worthy of imitation, praise, and allegiance.  He alone deserves blessing, and honor, and glory, and power. 

The Lordship of Jesus reminds me that He is the only one I want to follow.  He is the only one whose life I want to imitate.  At the end of history, it will not be those who were powerful in this world who will claim the victory.  No, every one of them will fall and cast their crowns at the feet of the One who is worthy. 

If that is true, and it is, then every one of us who claims to follow Jesus needs to recognize that Jesus is Lord, not only on that day at the end of history, but in our lives right now.  And that means that we need to truly follow him, we need to imitate him, we need to praise and give our allegiance to him.  We need to strive with all our might to be like him. 

As for me, I’ve decided that’s all I want to do.  I want to be like Jesus (Lord knows that leaves me with vast room for improvement!).  I don’t ever want to do anything that Jesus himself did not or would not do.  I only want to do what Jesus did and would do.  I only want to be like Jesus. 

And if that means that I have to serve rather than be served, to love in the face of those who hate, to live like a lamb in a world of wolves, to fight with a cross instead of a sword, to deny myself as I take up my cross and follow the way of Calvary love, well, so be it.  Because if that’s what Jesus asks of me, what else can I do, what else would I ever want to do, but follow my Lord?

For after all, He alone is worthy. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Pastor Brent

Note: Artwork featured in this post by Karen Snyder, quote at top from the song, Is He Worthy? by Andrew Peterson