The Gift of the Magi

Make me a star dear Lord

A bright, shining incandescence

Set against the malignant darkness.

Remove all hatred from my heart

That I may become a vessel of peace.

That I may see my enemies

Not as monsters to be slain,

But as victims to be rescued.

May I be filled with a holy love,

The kind that forgives as you forgive,

Even when nailed to a tree.

May my light be impossible to miss

That all I pass, or who pass by me,

Might stop…

See…

Think…

Wonder…

Confess…

And Follow my gaze to you.

May my luminous words and actions

provoke such irresistible curiosity

That people will have no choice

But to put on sunglasses,

The magic kind that reveals

The world you desire,

Where swords become plowshares,

Spears, pruning hooks,

Where hate is swallowed up in love

And dread dissolved in hope.

Where enemies become brothers,

And the whole Earth finds salvation.

Yes.

Make me a star dear Lord

A bright shining incandescence

Set against the malignant darkness.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Limping Through Advent

During the night Jacob got up and took his two wives, his two servant wives, and his eleven sons and crossed the Jabbok River with them.  After taking them to the other side, he sent over his possessions.  This left Jacob all alone in the camp, and a man came and wrestled with him until dawn began to break…

– Genesis 32:22-24

When I first received this assignment, I wondered why God would ask me, Jacob, to write to you during Advent.  I’m not exactly your typical Advent character.  Usually people want to hear about Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, the Magi, or one of the other heroes of the Nativity story.  Not only am I historically distant from those events, I’m nobody’s hero.  Maybe that’s why…maybe God wants you to hear from someone who isn’t a hero.  Someone who might even be a little like you.

Many of you know the basics of my story.  I was born second in my family, having lost a nine month race with my twin brother Esau by mere seconds.  I hated being second, even from birth apparently, so much so that I entered the world grasping my brother’s heel in an effort to overtake him.  That’s how I got my name: Jacob means, ‘he usurps.’  It also means, ‘he deceives,’ or ‘he finagles.’  Yep.  That’s me.  A usurper, a deceiver, a finagler.  About as far from a hero as you get, I suppose. 

I lived up to my name early and often, eventually conniving my way into possession of Esau’s birthright and blessing, which by custom were his as the firstborn.  The latter I gained by tricking my sick and blind father into thinking I was Esau.  Pretty bad, huh?  Not that it bothered me at the time.  Again, I never liked second place, and I had always stood there in my father’s eyes.  His greater love was for Esau, probably because he reminded him of his estranged brother Ishmael.  It was unfair.  Wrong.  I figured I was entitled to set things right.

There were consequences of course.  When Esau found out what I’d done, he consoled himself with thoughts of murdering me.  I guess I didn’t blame him, but I wasn’t about to let him put his dark fantasies into action.  So I high tailed it from my father’s lands to find a wife in the land of my ancestors.  And that’s when the first truly significant thing happened to me. 

Stopping for the night near the town of Luz, I had the most remarkable dream.  I saw stairs reaching to the heavens, with angels going up and down.  I’d never imagined that heaven and earth were so close.  From the top of the stairs I heard the voice of God for the first time.  ‘I am Yahweh,’ he said, and spoke of the promises made to my grandfather Abraham, which now, he said, fell to me: land, descendants as numerous as the dust, blessing for the whole world.  Then he said, ‘I am with you Jacob, and will protect you wherever you go.  One day, I will bring you back to this land.  I will not leave you until I have finished giving you everything I have promised you.’  Quite a promise, huh?  To think that God would bestow such a promise on the likes of me. 

With the promises of God in my back pocket, I went to Haran, where long story short, I continued my finagling ways.  For twenty years I built quite the shepherding business, and along the way picked up two wives, two servant wives, and eleven children.  Then one day, I heard God’s voice again, telling me to go home, and reminding me that he would be with me.  On the one hand, I was glad for an excuse to leave my father-in-law Laban, who besides me, was the biggest finagler I ever met, but on the other, well, what if Esau still wanted to kill me?  I’d like to tell you that I left for home because I believed God’s promise, but honestly, it had more to do with my desire to get away from Laban.  I was half eager, half scared out of my sandals as I made my way across the desert sands.

Along the way, God sent angels to meet me, further assurance of his protection.  But even so, I wasn’t exactly what you would call confident in my faith.  I was really limping along in it.  So imagine my terror when the messengers I had sent to convince Esau I was coming in friendship came back with the news that Esau was on his way in the company of an army of 400 men.  What did I do?   I prayed.  I begged for deliverance.  I reminded God of his promises.  I tried my best to believe in them myself.  And then, proving I did not, I sent more messengers ahead, this time with cattle, goats, sheep, and donkeys as gifts for my brother, hoping these might appease his wrath.  My family and I stayed behind, waiting for news.  Eventually, I sent them across the river too.  And that’s when God came near. 

He didn’t just stand atop a stairway this time.  HE CAME NEAR.  In my most desperate moment.  My finagling ways had finally caught up with me.  I was alone, ruminating over the course of my life, the things I’d done, the things I might have done differently.  Doubting God’s promises.  I mean, seriously, why would he ever protect a guy like me?  It’s funny really, how God meets us where we are.  There I was, wrestling with my faith, so God came to wrestle with me.  I guess it was the only way to get my attention. 

So there we were, rolling in the mud of the Jabbok from dusk till dawn.  I fought him with all I had, something, I suddenly realized, I had been doing all my life.  And then, in a beautifully poetic moment, knowing he had not prevailed over me by conventional means, he wrenched my hip.  Sometimes, you see, when we won’t listen to God, he does something drastic to get our attention.  As one of your poets, Michael Card, has said, ‘pain is [sometimes] the path to blessing.  Love will fight us to be found.’  Well, mission accomplished.  I shouted, ‘I won’t let you go until you bless me!’ I begged to know his name.  He just smiled and said, ‘why do you want to know my name?’  And I remembered he’d already told me long ago, at Luz: Yahweh.  The God who had already blessed me.  And right there, close as breath, he blessed me again.  I walked the rest of my life with a limp, a reminder of the night when God came near.  A night when God condescended to roll in the mud, to get dirty, just to reach a finagling doubter like me. 

The morning after, I met my brother.  Turns out I had nothing to worry about.  Esau greeted me with pure grace.  All had long since been forgiven.  We both wept like children, I more than he.  I told him, barely able to get the words out, that seeing his face was like seeing the face of God.  And so it was. 

But what does this have to do with you, dear reader? Well, you’re here reading my story in the season of Advent.  Celebrating something that, if you haven’t quite made the connection, isn’t all that different from my night at the Jabbok: the time when God came near.  Perhaps you wonder if that story is for you.  Perhaps, like me, you doubt God would ever take up with the likes you.  Maybe your past isn’t as bad as mine, but it might be bad enough.  Or maybe you have trouble believing God’s promises.  You’ve sensed God in his heaven, heard his still small voice, and yet, struggle to believe.  Maybe you’ve been wrestling with belief your whole life.  I want you to know, that all of that is the reason why God came near at Christmas.  It is the reason why he went so far as to come into our world, to roll in its mud, to get dirty.  Sometimes you see, God has to do something unconventional to get our attention.  Sometimes, he has to meet us where we are.   

This Christmas, know that he has done this for you.  Whoever you are, wherever you’ve been, whatever you’ve done.  You may be limping right now, but trust me, you are loved and blessed beyond imagining.

You are the reason that God came near.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Jacob

Author’s note: Looking this over, I suspect that there are echoes of a couple of old sermons by Jurgen Moltmann and Max Lucado latent in this monologue. I have not intentionally quoted them, but it is right that I give credit and thank them for their inspiration.

A Very Precious Christmas

Dear Hallmark Channel,

After watching many of your films with my wife (okay, after repeatedly walking into the room while my wife is watching them only to be asked to leave as a result of my incessant mockery of the acting, script, etc.) I had a brainstorm for what just might be the greatest movie you will ever make.  Here is my proposal, submitted for your consideration. 

A Very Precious Christmas

A Hallmark Original Production

Starring Andy Serkis

Plot: In the enchanting town of Bree, a peculiar and mischievous traveler named Gollum arrives in search of his precious lost ring (which was stolen by some nasty hobbit). This ring, a cherished memento he ‘found’ on his birthday, holds great sentimental value to him. However, Gollum leads a lonely life, as the destructive powers of the ring, made as it was by the Dark Lord of Mordor, have made him both hideous and violent.  Moreover, he has become so obsessed with his ring that he has never found time for love.  No one understands him.  Or, perhaps, they understand him too well…

As Bree prepares for its annual holiday festival, Gollum’s quest to find his ring intertwines with the life of Lily, the daughter of Barliman Butterbur, proprietor of The Prancy Pony, the town’s beloved and quaint local inn. Lily is at a crossroads in her life, unsure if she wants to follow in her father’s footsteps. She feels the weight of his expectations and the uncertainty of her future. Gollum is taken with Lily the moment he sees her. Despite her conflicted and frenzied personality, he can’t get her out of his mind.  Probably because she’s hot.

Lily, along with her playful puppy, Sam, is inexplicably drawn to Gollum and decides to help him. He’s hideous, but she can tell that deep down, he is someone special; it’s almost like there’s another half of him in there somewhere, if she could only draw it out.  As they embark on a whimsical journey to recover the lost ring, Lily discovers her own path and passions. Through their adventures, Gollum and Lily learn about friendship, love, self-discovery, and the true spirit of Christmas.

In this soon to be classic’s heartwarming climax, as the snow begins to fall gently around them, Gollum, who now goes by his long lost name Smeagol, finds his precious ring. He turns to Lily, realizing that the true treasure he’s found is her companionship. They share a tender kiss under the twinkling Christmas lights. As they part, Gollum whispers, “My precious,” with a twinkle in his eye.

Tagline: “Sometimes, the most precious gift is the one you didn’t expect.”

Trust me Hallmark!  I know, I know, it could be the worst installment in The Lord of the Rings franchise, but it will surely be the best darn Hallmark movie ever!

Respectfully submitted,

Brent Miller

(With a little help from Copilot AI)

Elijah

They watch me build the altar,

Setting stones one by one.

Rock by rock I raise this pyre

Praying God will light the fire.

I thrust my spade into dry ground

Moving earth on every side.

The sand and rock piles high and steep.

The trench descends three gallons deep.

I lay the wood I hope will burn

The sacrificial beast.

An image once of strength and might.

It’s eyes now fade with dying light. 

I’ve finished now what I’ve begun,

Save to douse all chance of fire’s natural rise.

What happens next must be divine.

Lest people think the glory mine.

Great God of many names!

You alone – Ignite the flame!

Cleanse dull minds that all may see:

This is of you, and not of me.

The fire flashes, blinding, bright.

All eyes go dim, and then, true sight.

I am reduced to clay and sod.

The cry goes forth, ‘Yahweh is God.’

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

(Inspired by 1 Kings 18:20-39).

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

Election Day

‘In this dark hour, I do not believe that any darkness will endure’ – Faramir of Gondor

I offer these poems to anyone who may be dreading the worst today. I pray that even as they acknowledge the possibility of darkness, they point you toward the light.

Autocracy’s Rise

The darkening skies descend.

The unsuspecting masses blink

As trembling prophets absorb

What they knew would come.

For them, the expected death

Of what they once held dear.

They brace, for loss, for ruin,

And the marching feet of doom.

They know, that past is prologue,

As the behemoth takes its place

At the vanguard of a chilling dread

That now hangs over all.

Yet this they know, deeply:

That all will not be lost.

For all cannot be taken.

There is still that which abides,

Which nothing can filch or harm,

Beyond the dragon’s reach.

There is faith,

The substance of hope.

And love beyond imagining.

The forest, filled with wild.

Music, to dance to, to fuel desire.

For eternity. For Life.

There is the present moment.

To savor, bless, and know.

And in that moment God,

Ever-present. Constant. True.

Pointing the way forward. On!

Presence. Protection. Peace.

Is this not what matters,

Most of all, when all else fails?

To know that in such days

The best cannot be broken?

That in the end the sadness

Comes untrue, and love wins?

Oh Blessed One who stills my soul!

Let me not forget these truths.

And when the sky is darkest,

Let me feel your smile,

That I may brave the tempest,

Shielded by thy perfect love.

For Election Day

I have no earthly ruler

No President to claim

I serve the one who is the King

The name above all names.

The empire is a monster

A snarling, fearful beast

Like Grendel or Polyphemus

On mortal flesh it feasts.

Perhaps once I thought otherwise

That it was true and brave

I know it now for what it is:

It reeks of death and grave.

The times they are so fearful

Dreadful, dank, and dark

The leopard beast is on the march

As ‘lambs’ now wear its mark.

And yet I have no need to fear

Though all I once knew fails

My life is in the hands of Christ

Whose Kingdom will prevail.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

We Can’t Say We Weren’t Warned

Yet they did not listen or incline their ear; they stiffened their necks and would not hear or receive instruction’ – Jeremiah 17:23

The Bible contains a lot of warnings.  In the Garden of Eden, God explained to Adam and Eve that if they ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, they would bring death into the world.  In Sodom, God sent messengers to turn its people from injustice, inhospitality, and violent sex crimes.  Throughout the history of Israel, God sent prophets to Israel to warn them of their need to turn from idolatry and injustice.  On the day of the Triumphal Entry, and during the course of the week that followed, Jesus himself wept and warned the people of Jerusalem of what would happen if they rejected his nonviolent way in favor of their dream of a nationalist warrior Messiah. 

Yet in every case, the warnings went unheeded.  Adam and Eve ate the fruit and bore the consequences.  The people of Sodom, apart from Lot and his family, attempted to gang rape God’s messengers, sealing the fate of their city.  Israel by and large persisted in ignoring the prophetic warnings spoken to them, and experienced exile.  The people of Jerusalem chose the way of the sword over Jesus, and, in 70 AD, felt the full wrath of Rome as the empire breached her walls and filled her streets with blood. 

In each case, no one could say they weren’t warned. 

Fast forward to America 2024. 

The warning signs have been blaring for nine years, and yet here we are, facing the possibility that we might, again, elect a white supremacist authoritarian President.  Today, I simply mention the latest warning sign, which comes from Trump’s own White House Chief of Staff Brigadier General John Kelly, who, in a recently published interview in The Atlantic (which you can easily read about elsewhere online), warns America that Trump is an authoritarian who ‘fits the definition of a fascist,’ has expressed a longing to command the kind of generals that Hitler had during WWII, longs to be a dictator, and has no respect for democracy or the Constitution.  In this, Kelly echoes similar warnings issued by others who worked in Trump’s administration, including the Commander of the Joint Chief of Staff, Mark Milley, who describes Trump as ‘fascist to the core,’ and Secretary of Defense Mark Esper, who warns that it was Trump’s desire to ‘just shoot’ protestors during the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020. 

This comes as we listen to Trump deliver campaign speech after speech in which he expresses the need to eliminate ‘the enemy within,’ plans to create deportation (concentration) camps, speaks of the insurrectionists he unleashed on the Capitol on January 6, 2020, as heroes, and proposes sending the military onto the streets of America to crush those who protest his policies. 

For most of my life, such news and views would end a politician’s career.  In 2024, nearly half of America shrugs.  Or worse, they love it.

And so here we are.  Less than two weeks away from an election in which it is entirely possible that American voters will return Trump to office, free and unfettered from the likes of Kelly, Milley, and Esper who were somehow able to check his worst ambitions during his first go round as Commander in Chief.  We already know that the Republicans in Congress won’t check him, and it is entirely plausible that, should Trump win, they will command both houses of Congress.  Plus, and this is a real hoot – he will assume the powers of the Presidency complete with a new Supreme Court grant of immunity that could render him completely unaccountable for his ‘official’ actions. 

I mean, what could possibly go wrong? 

A lot.  Which is why if American voters ignore the sirens, which at this point are sounding so loudly our ears should be bleeding, no on will be able to say that they weren’t warned. 

I could go on, but honestly I’m just plain exhausted at this point.  In the words of John Kelly, which he used to punctuate a prior warning to America several months ago that has largely gone unheeded, ‘there’s nothing more to be said.  God help us.’ 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

An Open Letter to All the Peoples of Middle-Earth

Barad Dur, Mordor, TA 3017, Tuesday Morning

Greetings!

Can you believe it?  They’re doing it again.  Elrond is once again weaponizing the government of Middle-earth against me.  He’s assembled a Council in Rivendell and indicted me on false charges.  He’s even sent forth some sort of party – he calls it a ‘Fellowship,’ whatever that means – to try to take me down a second time.  These guys never quit.  No one in the history of Middle-earth has been as attacked as much as me.  And for what?  I’ll tell you.  For making the world more peaceful and prosperous than it ever was, and daring to try to do it again. 

Remember when I was last in charge?    Everyone had gifts.  So many gifts.  Rings of Power.  That’s right, I made them.  Celebrimbor was a hack.  Couldn’t have done it without me.  Everyone knows it.  You know it, I know it, the people of Middle-earth know it.  Everyone wanted my rings.  Dwarves, Men, even Elves couldn’t put them down!  There were no strings attached either.  Just good gifts that improved everyone’s lives.  Better than they ever were before.  If you don’t believe me ask the Witch King of Angmar.  Always speaks highly of me.  All the other Nazgul too.  They’d have died long ago it if weren’t for my gifts.  They never had it better than when I was in charge.  If I’d stayed in charge, everyone would be like them now.  Everyone would have rings.  Everyone would be happy.  Everyone would be so Nazgul, you just wouldn’t believe it. 

Manufacturing was at an all-time high too.  People couldn’t believe how high it was.  Full employment.  We had good jobs.  Quality jobs.  Not the kind of jobs they have now.  We had Orc jobs.  Hobbit jobs.  Elf jobs.  Dwarves were mining again.  All because of my gifts.  But then they came after me.  Galadriel, Elrond, Elendil, Isildur, and all the other Marxists, Fascists, and Communists.  Formed something called, ‘The Last Alliance.’  We were just having a peaceful protest in Mordor when they came charging in.  Total peace before they came along.  No war plans whatsoever.  All of Arda was at peace.  Galadriel was the worst.  Nasty woman.  Gollum thinks so.  Very nasty.  There was once a time when she was kind of into me.  Not that she had a chance.  Way too old.  Like 5000 or something.  She’s so old she doesn’t even know if she’s alive.  That’s why everything’s so screwed up.  They came in and wrecked it all.  But we’ll fix it.  We’ll make Middle-earth great again.  As soon as I get my ring back.  It’ll be great even before I put it on my finger.  You know it, I know it, all the Children of Iluvatar know it.  By the way, I’m a big believer in Iluvatar.  Big believer.  I love it when I go to church and eat my cracker.  His children love me.  They love me so much you can’t believe it.  Because I give them everything they want.  They never had it so good as when I was in charge.  And when I’m back in charge they’ll have it good again.  It’ll be so great they won’t ever have to vote again. 

I understand some of you are placing your trust in the Fellowship.  Well, let me tell you about them.  They want to take your jobs.  Take all your weapons: your swords, your axes, your daggers.  Did you know they want to stop the mining of Mithril?  That’s right, they want the dwarves to starve.  Not me.  I want dwarves to live.  Mine! Mine! Mine!  That’s what I say.  But not them.  They want to shut it all down.  And that’s not the worst of it.  They want Hobbits everywhere.  Never before in the history of Middle-earth have there been so many Hobbits pouring over the borders of the Shire.  Let me tell you, these aren’t good Hobbits.  They’re bad hombres.  Crime is way down in the Shire, you know why? Because they’re sending all their criminals to your towns.  And they’re taking your jobs.  All the jobs in Gondor.  All the jobs in Wilderland.  All the jobs in Rhun.  Harad.  Rhovanion.  All over.  You should see what’s happening in Bree.  They’re eating the pets.  Eating the cats.  Eating the dogs.  Poor Bill Ferney can’t even find his pony.  I’ll tell you where it is.  It’s in the belly of some fat Hobbit.  Barliman Butterbur can deny it all he wants.  He has an inn to run.  Wants people to still visit.  But we know it’s happening.  You know it.  I know it.  The people of Bree know it. 

And what’s up with Gandalf?  I’ve known him a long time.  Indirectly, not directly very much.  He was always Grey and he was only promoting that.  I didn’t know he was White until a number of months ago he happened to turn White.  And now he wants to be known as White.  So, I don’t know.  Is he Grey or White?  I respect either one, but he obviously doesn’t because he was Grey all the way then all of a sudden, he made a turn and he went, he became a White Wizard.  I already have a White Wizard.  Saruman.  Great guy.  He’s building me an army right now.  Way better than Gandalf.  He once captured Gandalf you know.  Held him on top of Orthanc at Isengard until some eagle rescued him.  Couldn’t even rescue himself.  Loser.  I prefer wizards who don’t get captured.

Which reminds me of a conversation I had some time back in the Second Age with Cirdan the Shipwright.  Don’t like him much, he was never nice to me, but he does know how to build boats.  So, I asked him, ‘what would happen if one of your boats sank, and you’re in the boat, and you have this tremendously powerful elf magic that powers the boat, and the elf magic is under water, and there’s a Balrog that’s approximately 10 yards over there?’  By the way, a lot of Balrog attacks lately, do you notice that?  Lot of Balrogs.  I watched some guys justifying it today, ‘Well, they weren’t really that angry, they bit off the young lady’s leg because of the fact that they were not hungry but they misunderstood who she was.’  These people are crazy.  He said, ‘there no problem with Balrogs, they just didn’t really understand a young woman swimming.’  No, really got decimated, and other people, too, a lot of Balrog attacks.  So, I said to Cirdan, ‘There’s a Balrog 10 yards away from the boat, 10 yards, or here.  Do I get zapped with elf magic if the boat is sinking, water gets in the elf magic, the boat is sinking?  Do I stay on top of the boat and get zapped, or do I jump over by the Balrog and not get zapped?’  Because I tell you, he didn’t know the answer.  He said, ‘You know, nobody’s ever asked me that question.’  I said, ‘I think it’s a good question.  I think there’s a lot of elf magic coming through that water.’  But you know what I’d do if there was a Balrog or you could get zapped with elf magic?  I’ll take elf magic every single time.  I’m not getting near the Balrog.  So, we’re going to end elf magic.  We’re going to end it for boats, we’re going to end it for wagons.’ 

I’m sure by now you can see that the answer to all of Middle Earth’s problems is myself.  No one has plans like I do.  Or concepts of plans.  My concepts are always the best.  Because, as you can tell, I am a very stable genius.  Smarter than anyone.  You know it.  I know it.  And soon all of Middle-earth will know it.  So, here’s what you can do: nothing.  Just sit back, drink your Covefe, and let me do as I will.  I’ll be doing it soon anyway.  You can’t stop me.  And then you’ll never have to do anything again. 

Your Soon to be (again) Dark Lord,

Sauron the Great

Barabbas

Fearful warrior

Defiant, Strong

Thy fist raised high in might

Thy head is bloodied, yet unbowed

Thine minions steeled to fight.

What hope exists

Now for the weak

When protest fades to silence?

When violent men may now denounce

The peaceful as the violent?

And so the people

Raise the crown

Prepared to make thee master.

Prepared to toss aside the good

For methods that seem faster.

So did the masses

Long years past

Do as they chose the violent

Over the one who took the cross,

And bore their sin in silence.

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