The Sufficiency of Jesus

‘My grace is sufficient for you’ – Jesus, to his friend Paul, in 2 Corinthians 2:9

I am exhausted. 

It’s been a long haul these past few years.  So many losses.  So many struggles. So much going wrong with the world.  I could create a list, but, for one thing, you probably have one of your own, and for another, well, I want to keep this blog post relatively short. 

I will say that this week I have been thinking of the poem, The Second Coming, by W.B. Yeats, particularly the following lines:

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and

   Everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

It seems to describe the world we live in quite well.  Whenever I think of all that is happening (or about to happen), I am nearly overwhelmed by anxiety.  The exhaustion of trying to navigate through the times we live in caught up with me a long time ago, and honestly, some days I don’t know how I’m going to make it to the next.   

Which is why I was so struck recently by these soothing words of Jesus, words I too often forget amidst the cacophony of our times.

‘Come to me, all of you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you.  Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’

(Matthew 11:28-30 NLT). 

Ah yes, the sufficiency of Jesus.  The promise that he is the one who will take my burdens and cares, vouchsafe me in his grace, and be my shelter amidst the storm. 

To give credit where it is due, I should note that I was reminded of these words while reading John Eldredge’s wonderful new book, Resilience: Restoring Your Weary Soul in Turbulent Times (I heartily recommend it).  Eldredge reminds us that while the world tempts us to live in its tumultuous, convoluted, anxiety provoking story, Jesus calls us to live in the story of his Kingdom, a story of love, grace, redemption, and hope.  A story that offers peace and rest in the midst of the storm.  A story that gives us strength to carry on. 

This is the story we must live in.  The story of Jesus.

Of course, living in Jesus’ story does not mean that we are to withdraw from a troubled world.  How tempting it is to escape, to, say, move to the mountains and forget about everything (I confess sometimes that sounds simply wonderful).  Jesus, however, commanded his disciples to go into the world – to be agents of his grace, makers of his peace, speakers of his truth, proponents of his justice.  To storm the very gates of hell.  He commanded us to make a difference by making disciples, finding others who are willing to live in his story alongside us, and thereby point a world gone mad back to God. 

Which, you might think, would mitigate against the peace he promises.  After all, the world doesn’t take kindly to those who, even silently, point out its madness. But no.  For Jesus, in giving this commission, promised to ‘be with us always, even to the end of the age’ (Matthew 28:30).  In other words, as we go about the business of walking through a troubled world, his promise to lighten our load endures.  He carries our burdens.  He gives peace in the midst of the storm.  He gives rest in the midst of the tumult.   He gives hope to carry on.  His presence, his grace, is sufficient for us in this age.  And when this age is over, he will still be with us, wiping the tears from our eyes and the sweat from our brow, as he invites us into a universe where all things are made new (see, Revelation 21:1-5). 

Dear exhausted souls, today I pray that you, in the midst of whatever you are going through, discover the sufficiency of Jesus.  That you who are weary and heavy laden come to him and find rest.  I pray with the apostle Paul that:

‘…from God’s glorious, inexhaustible resources you will be empowered with the inner strength that comes from the Holy Spirit.  That Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him.  That your roots will grow down deep into God’s love and make you strong.  And that you would have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is.  I pray that you would experience the love of Christ and be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God’(see, Ephesians 3:16-19). 

Friends, we need to live in Jesus’ story.  We need Jesus to do this for us. 

He is enough. 

He will do it. 

He is all we need. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Until the Next Time

‘Is there no balm in Gilead?  Is there no physician there?  Why is there no healing for the wounds of my people?’ – Jeremiah 8:22

Last Thursday, the church I pastor hosted a candlelight vigil to honor the ten men and women cut down by an assault-style semi-automatic rifle with a high-capacity magazine in the racially motivated mass shooting at the Tops Market in Buffalo, NY.  While planning the event, another episode of gun violence occurred at a church in Laguna Woods, CA, adding yet another victim to those we recognized at the service.   The vigil was a somber attempt to create sacred space for lamentation and reflection, and, from that space, generate constructive action toward the goal of eradicating the twin evils of hate and gun violence that characterize so much of American life these days.    

On the following Sunday, a member of our congregation, one of the most socially active I know, apologized that he had been unable to attend the vigil because of work.  He expressed his hope that we would not need another one any time soon.  The moment those latter words passed his lips, we looked at each other and sighed; we both knew it would only be a matter of time before the next high-profile act of violence involving guns would occur.[1]  The only question was: how long would it take? 

Two days. 

Tuesday evening I came home from work and saw the news.  Another gunman, armed with an AR-15, the assault-style weapon of choice for mass shooters in America, had shot up a fourth-grade classroom in Uvalde, Texas.  By the following morning, the death toll had risen to twenty-one: nineteen children and two teachers.  Nineteen children, each about 10 years-old, who simply went to school that morning to learn.  Each with hopes and dreams for the future.  Each who now, if I may paraphrase Neil Young, will never get to grow up, never get to finish school, never get to fall in love, never get to be cool.  Their teachers, two women with families of their own, died as heroes while attempting to shield the children with their bodies. 

One would think nothing could be worse than this.  But what makes it worse is that this is nothing new.  Shootings of the kind we have just experienced in Buffalo, Laguna Woods, and Uvalde are pretty much part of the landscape these days.  They have been for decades.  I thought of listing some of the place names, but the list would be so long it would probably crash your server.  The stories are somewhat different in each one, but the vast majority of the time, there are common denominators: an assault-style weapon was involved; and/or a person who should not have had access to the weapon used obtained it lawfully for lack of appropriate background checks and screening; and/or there were warning signs flashing (a documented history of mental illness, a published manifesto, a string of violent social media posts, a record of threats or violent behavior, etc.), the kind that should have alerted someone in authority to have acted before it was too late, or at least have served as an impediment to the purchase of a gun or ammunition had appropriate background checks and screening been employed.  Any and all of which could easily be addressed with sensible gun legislation that would have, if it had been enacted in time, prevented at least some of the shootings; that would have saved at least some of the innocent lives.  That could, even if enacted after the fact, save countless lives in the future. 

Which leads, of course, to the infuriating common denominator we experience in the aftermath of every mass shooting: the hard reality that no commonsense gun legislation ever passes.  What happens instead is as predictable as the rising of the sun.  Within hours of a mass shooting, politicians and pundits on the left call for common sense gun control measures while politicians and pundits on the right talk about the loss of life, including the lives of children, being the ‘cost of freedom’ (an expression that makes my blood boil even as I write it).  This plays out over a couple days, maybe a week, until the pro-gun forces of intransigence prevail, and nothing is done.  Then, most of the public gets bored, forgets, and moves on to think about happier things. 

Until the next time, when the cycle starts all over again.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  Oh, and bury the bodies. 

Predictably, the politicians and pundits are at it even as I type.  The script is being followed to the letter.  And while people are hot today, if history is any predictor of what is to come, we know that as soon as there is a lull in the violence, people will just move on to happier things. 

And so, Jeremiah’s lament, ‘Is there no balm in Gilead?’ echoes in my soul today.  For like him I ask, ‘Is there no hope?  Is there no one who can bring healing to this land?  Why is there no healing for my people?’

Five years ago, I wrote Jeremiah’s words at the head of another blog post about another mass shooting.   Over the course of a month, in fact, I had written two posts in reaction to high-profile mass shootings in Las Vegas and Sutherland Springs.  In them, I decried the fact that nothing had been done and nothing would likely be done.  I called for a time of lamentation, of sackcloth and ashes, in which we would sit in the dust and grieve the violence of our society.  I urged people not to simply move on to happier things, not to seek solace in something more comfortable, but to wade into the misery, to let it sink in, to empathize with the victims and survivors, and to then leverage what they felt toward constructive action. 

My response is the same now, with one difference.  Our lamentation time, as necessary as it is, cannot go on for too long.  We must cut it short and get about the business of making a better world before the next shooter strikes.  It is time to step up and do something.  It is time to engage in creative, nonviolent actions which push for an end to gun violence and create more beauty and peace in the world.[2]  It is time to act politically and vote the fools who think that dead school children are the ‘cost of freedom’ out of office.  It is time to demand our state and federal legislators pass common sense gun legislation and that our governors and President sign it. 

If there is a balm in Gilead, we are going to have to make it.  I for one, will begin today. 

I’m no longer waiting until the next time. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] I say high profile, for, as we should all know, gun violence happens every minute of every day in America. 

[2] E.g., in the church I serve, we are partnering with RAWTools to decommission guns and turn them into garden tools (see www.rawtools.org).

The Devil’s Bargain

‘Let no man turn aside, ever so slightly, from the broad path of honor, on the plausible pretense that he is justified by the goodness of his end.  All good ends can be worked out by good means.  Those that cannot, are bad; and may be counted so at once, and left alone’ – Charles Dickens, in his novel, Barnaby Rudge

The past few days I have been thinking of Leland Gaunt.  For those who don’t recognize the name, Mr. Gaunt is the proprietor of the shop ‘Needful Things’ in the Stephen King novel of the same name.  The shop offers a curious inventory of items, and for each individual customer who comes through the door, there is a particular item that inevitably overwhelms their discretion and self-restraint.  It is an item they simply must possess, no matter the cost.  Mr. Gaunt, eager to please, offers each enthralled customer the item of their desire for two prices, both of which they must agree to pay. 

The first price is always a bargain, leaving each customer with the distinct impression that Mr. Gaunt desires to give his stock away.  The second price isn’t specified up front. Mr. Gaunt simply advises that he will come to collect later.  If this makes you suspicious you are right to be, but the shoppers at Needful Things, seeing the item of their heart’s desire before their eyes, never take time to be so themselves.  All they can contemplate is that they need the item, and so they pay the initial price without consideration of the second.  They simply can’t resist, for, as Leland Gaunt himself says, ‘Everybody loves something for nothing…even if it costs them everything.’

And that, of course, is the catch.  It will cost them everything.  For, as it turns out, Leland Gaunt is no ordinary shopkeeper.  He is the devil himself come to Castle Rock, Maine to wreak havoc.  He lets his customers enjoy their items for a time, and then, when he has them where he wants them, comes to collect the second price, which, wouldn’t you know it, is destructively, even lethally, high.  In the end, each item fails to deliver on its original promise, and ends up costing the buyer, as Mr. Gaunt himself had intimated, everything.    

This past week, as most of you know (unless you’ve been living under a rock), a draft opinion by the United States Supreme Court leaked to the press.  The opinion, if adopted, would overrule Roe v. Wade, the 1973 landmark decision that made abortion legal throughout the United States.  The whole country has been in an uproar ever since.  The draft decision is being seen as vindication for the many Christians who, despite reservations, voted for Donald Trump in 2016 and/or 2020.  Sure, he was an odious character, a womanizer, a racist, a bully, and possessed more than a few authoritarian tendencies, but heck, he promised to appoint conservative, originalist Justices who would overrule Roe, and that was something for which those same Christians had been praying for decades.  The protection of unborn life was the worthiest of causes, and the bargain Mr. Trump proposed was simply too enticing to pass up.   And so, they held their noses, pulled the proverbial lever, and waited for the promised victory. 

Now, that victory seems imminent.  And so, in the minds of many, the Faustian bargain struck with Mr. Trump seems to have been worth it. 

But was it? 

You see, just as was the case in Mr. Gaunt’s shop, a devil’s bargain always comes with a second price, and the promise given always fails.  Now, I understand that we are talking about the lives of unborn children.  I am myself pro-life.  I believe all life to be sacred, from womb to tomb.  But one must ask whether this bargain is even going to hold; whether the promised gain will be fully realized.  Whether, for starters, the draft opinion will even become law.  Whether, in a society where the majority simply doesn’t see things as I and other pro-life persons do, such a decision will be allowed to stand for long, or even have the desired effect (one of the ironies of overruling Roe may well be that in the states where the vast majority of abortions are performed, abortion access, and hence the number of abortions, including late-term abortions, will likely increase, rather than decrease).  One must ask whether, in fact, there may have been other means, other ways, to save the lives of unborn children, say, by providing financial, emotional, and other support to birthmothers, birthfathers, and families facing unplanned or crisis pregnancies, as many Christians and agencies have been, and still are, doing.  Or by ensuring that health care and other benefits remain available to those same mothers and families.  Or by coming alongside families and helping them raise their children by providing childcare and other support services.  Or, in situations where birth families are not able to care for their children, by adopting their children and raising them to cherish their birthmothers and fathers and their choice for life.  Or by simply engaging in the patient industry of gentle persuasion and the modeling of a better way.  There are many ways to be pro-life with respect to abortion, with or without the reversal of Roe.

And then there is the matter of the second cost.  In backing Trump, Christians partnered with a man who has threatened democracy, damaged race relations, denigrated public decency, and caused countless other social harms.  The consequent injury to the Church’s witness has been incalculable.   In the minds of many both within and without the Church, Christianity has become associated with Trumpism.  Christians (even those of us who didn’t make the bargain) are now widely thought of as the people who support racism and white supremacy, who separate children from their families, who approve of the use of violence against peaceful protestors, who look the other way as women are demeaned and abused, who, well, we could go on for a while here.  It seems no exaggeration to say that both the message and messengers of Christianity have been tarnished severely by this association with Mr. Trump, and that this tarnishing, on top of the aforementioned damage to society, may well result in millions, even tens of millions, turning away from Jesus forever. 

Talk about a high second price.

So it is with the devil’s bargains.  They seem to offer an effective means to a certain end.  But in the end, the promise is never fulfilled, and the price proves to be too high.  Which is why, for example, when Jesus was offered a similar bargain by Satan in the wilderness, in that case control of all the kingdoms of the world, he refused (see, Luke 4:5-8).  Sure, he might have gained control over the world’s kingdoms (and been able to pack their courts!), he may even have been able to do much good, but he would have done so by rejecting the way of the Cross, the one thing necessary for the salvation of the world and the establishment of the one Kingdom that truly matters.  He would have missed the proverbial forest for the proverbial trees.  For Jesus, the means by which he saved the world was as important as the end, for only by following the right means could the proper end be truly achieved. 

It may seem like a bargain to give power to a despot in order to win one’s favorite cause, especially a cause as important as the preservation of human life.  I can understand the temptation.  But folks, it is always a mistake to accept the devil’s bargain.  It is always better to follow the path of Jesus, the path of service and sacrifice, as long, hard, and frustrating as it may be, than it is to accept the cheap and easy way out offered by, if not Satan himself, those who seek to wield his power. 

Esau McCauley has said, ‘the way you get something is just as important as the fact that you get it…so as a Christian, I am never allowed to put aside means to get to an end.’[1]  He’s right.  As Dickens noted, good ends can always be worked out by good means, those that cannot are bad, and should be counted so at once, and left alone. 

And so I say to those who voted for Trump because of their pro-life convictions, this week may seem like vindication, but beware.  The second, hidden cost of your bargain is already playing out before our eyes.  In the end, it may very well cost everything. 

Far better, I believe, to reject the devil’s bargain in all its guises, and, like Jesus, pursue another way. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] See, interview with Esau McCauley in Holy Post Number 425. 

The Coronation of the King

This post for Holy Week is taken from my ‘subversive commentary,’ The Challenger: Faith, Love, and Resistance in the Gospel of Mark. 

The soldiers led Jesus into the palace courtyard, which is the Praetorium, and they called together the entire cohort.  They clothed him in a purple robe, and twisted together a crown of thorns, which they placed upon his head.  They saluted him, ‘Hail!  King of the Jews!’  They repeatedly struck his head with a reed, spat upon him, and bowed before him as if in homage.  When they were finished, they took off the purple cloak and put his own clothes back on him.  Then they led him out to be crucified.  They compelled a passerby, who had come from the country, to carry Jesus’ cross.  This was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus.  They brought him to the place called Golgotha, which means ‘skull place.’  They offered him wine mixed with myrrh to drink, but he refused to drink it.  Then they crucified him.  They divided his clothes among them, casting lots to determine what each should take.  It was the third hour when they crucified him.  An inscription of the cause was written over his head.  It read, ‘The King of the Jews’ – Mark 15:16-26

‘Are you the King of the Jews?’ Pilate had asked.  ‘You have said so,’ was Jesus’ reply, indicating that yes, he was indeed a king.  Pilate, though frightened by the implications of such a claim made at Passover, surely laughed.  What sort of king could Jesus possibly be?  What would such a king’s kingdom look like?  In this passage, Mark paints the picture for us, and it turns out, just as Jesus has said, both his kingship and his kingdom look like a cross. 

We have all seen movies, or read books, in which a king receives his crown.  Often, the coronation ceremony begins with a procession into the palace.  Officials are gathered, decked out in full imperial splendor.  The king is clothed in purple, the standard color of royalty.  A crown is placed upon his head, and the assembly cries with one voice, ‘Hail to the King!’  Everyone kneels and remains in a posture of submission until signaled to rise, and then, the newly installed King is led out to address his people. 

Mark’s description of what happens to Jesus makes clear that, to him, something similar occurs as Jesus is led away to be crucified.  The elements are all there.  Jesus is led into the palace.  The entire cohort assembles.  He is clothed in purple.  A crown is placed upon his head.  The cry goes forth, ‘Hail!  King of the Jews!’  The assembly bows in homage.  But it is not done in honor.  It is all caricature.  The soldiers who lead Jesus into the courtyard have just flogged him to within an inch of his life.  The purple robe is drenched in the blood they have drawn.  The crown is made of thorns, some of which penetrate Jesus’ skin, scraping his skull.  The cry and the bow are derisive.  Jesus is not led out to address his people in triumph.  He is led out to be crucified. 

Behold – the Coronation of the King!

As Jesus is led away, he even receives the assistance of a royal page.  Normally, this would be a member of the court who trails behind the king, carrying the mantle of his cloak lest it become dirty.  Jesus gets a peasant coming in from the countryside, compelled to carry his cross.  Jesus has lost so much blood from the flogging that he cannot make it on his own.  He is a pathetic sight for a king. 

They arrive together, the King and his page, at the hill called Skull Place.  Jesus is offered a drug, a singular gesture of mercy, to dull the pain that is to come.  He refuses.  He will face what is to come head on, with an alert mind and heart.

And so it happens.  Mark describes it with the meager words, ‘they crucified him.’  Books have been written on the subject of crucifixion.  It is a ghastly way to die, complete with bolts of searing pain and the slow process of asphyxiation.  This is the final act of Jesus’ so-called ‘triumphal entry.’  In a Roman triumph, the conquering hero presides over the execution of the prisoners of war.  In Christ’s triumph, the hero himself is executed, and in the most brutal way imaginable. 

The cause of this execution is inscribed above Jesus’ head: ‘The King of the Jews.’  It is a warning to anyone who would dare challenge the authority of Rome.  This is how the empire deals with those who defy it.  In the eyes of the empire, and in those of everyone who looks on or passes by, it appears that once again, might is declared right.  So sure of this are the representatives of empire that they play games as Jesus’ dies, casting lots for his clothes.  It is just another day in the life of the empire.  An upstart is defeated.  The empire prevails.  Violence triumphs over peace.  The challenge of the Challenger is over.

But the perception is wrong.  This is the Challenger’s greatest moment.  This is the moment when he exposes the empire, and all the powers that sent him to the cross.  Jesus, who refused the drug that would have dulled his senses, is the brave hero willing to pay the price to show the world another way.  The forces arrayed against Jesus – empire, religion, and the demonic – are shown to be mere shadows, fearful cowards who kill anything they do not understand, anything that threatens their carefully constructed house of cards.   Paul put the matter thusly: ‘he disarmed the powers of the world, made a public spectacle of them, and shamed them by triumphing over them at the cross.’[1]  The cross is Jesus’ greatest and ongoing challenge to the powers of the world.  From age to age, it continuously calls them out, exposing their violent, bullying ways, and calling anyone who will listen to follow another way, the way of love, peace, and sacrifice.  The way that, as we shall see, always wins in the end. 

The Coronation of Jesus may look like a bad joke.  But it is a victory.  It may appear to be pure foolishness, but it is in fact the power of God.[2]  Therefore, as we who dare follow Jesus cast ourselves back to that fateful day and imagine the perceptions of those who thought it was the end of the Challenger’s way, we do not join them, nor do we give up on the cross and throw our lot in with empire.  Instead, we celebrate the Coronation of our King.

Crown him the Lord of Peace!

Whose power a scepter sways,

From pole to pole that wars may cease,

And all be prayer and praise.

His reign shall know no end,

And round his pierced feet,

Fair flowers of paradise extend

Their fragrance ever sweet.[3]

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

To read more of The Challenger, visit ‘Brent’s Books’ by clicking here. 

[1] Colossians 2:15. 

[2] See, 1 Corinthians 1:18.

[3] From the hymn, Crown Him with Many Crowns, by Matthew Bridges and Godfrey Thring. 

Home

‘And so at last they came to the Last Homely House, and found its doors flung wide’ – J.R.R. Tolkien

I was walking Rossco, my wonderfully exuberant Aussie-Shepherd/Border Collie, along the creek, when suddenly, I heard scampering to my right.  My eyes went wide as I saw, of all things, a groundhog racing toward us faster and fiercer than any of his species had a right to move or be.  As he charged up the steep bank, his eyes were like saucers, his mouth open, and his teeth bared.  It appeared that he was attempting to launch a preemptive strike on Rossco (and/or me), whom he most certainly considered a threat.  I mean, what else could explain his running toward us, rather than away from us. 

I braced myself for the onslaught, but when he was about a foot away, thank God, he dove like a submarine and vanished.  I had not noticed, could not have noticed, that just below the lip of the bank, just below our feet, was the entrance to his burrow. 

As I pulled Rossco away (he of course wanted to follow the varmint into his den), the groundhog’s furry face flashed comically across my mind, and I realized that the look upon it had been one of fear, not ferocity.  His mouth had been open, and his teeth bared, not because he was preparing to attack, but because he had been gulping air to fuel his assent up the bank.  His eyes had been wide as saucers because, well, if he had possessed a thought balloon, it would have read, ‘Oh [expletive deleted], that dog is about to kill me!’  I had wondered why, instead of running away from us, he had run toward us.  Now I knew that as the groundhog’s brain processed the danger posed by our presence, a single word had flashed through his mind.

Home. 

And with that, I had to smile.  For in that, I had to recognize, not just the wisdom of the groundhog’s choice of direction, but the smiling presence of God. 

Home.  It is the place where we know we are safe, the place of comfort, warmth, and love.  Think about the word for a moment and you will likely conjure up all sorts of lovely images and memories.  Baking cookies with your mom.  Watching baseball with your Dad.  Sitting by the fire on a frosty night.  Sipping tea while reading a book or watching your favorite show.  Gathering about the table for family game night.  Lying next to the one you love.  Home is the feeling you get when you think of such things, the ache in your heart to experience them all over again.  Even in the absence of the underlying realities that forge such memories, there remains in every heart the hope of their becoming.  We all, in one way or another, share what Frederick Buchner calls ‘the longing for home.’  He writes of home as that ‘something that we feel we belong to and that belongs to us.’[1]  Deep within each of us is a yearning to be home, whether it be the home of our cherished memories or the home of unfulfilled desires. 

And let’s face it: the yearning is real.  The world can be a callous and cruel place, filled with dangers.  As we navigate the riverbanks of our lives, we encounter many threats.  When we do, there is a deep, instinctive drive to run, as the groundhog had run, for the place we call home.  To either return to the place where we have felt safe, warm, and loved, or else to find such a place for the very first time.  To take refuge there. 

Home is like Rivendell, the elvish haven in Tolkien’s world.  I have read The Hobbit every couple of years since I was in the fourth grade, and each time I get to the line, ‘And so at last they came to the Last Homely House, and found its doors flung wide,’ I choke up.  To me it speaks of the longing for home.  In the story, Bilbo and his friends have just escaped the clutches of a clan of trolls, and Rivendell is just the sanctuary they need.  It is home, so much so that later in his life, when Bilbo tires of his adventures, he settles there to ‘live happily ever after to the end of his days.’  We all long for a place like that, a place that is more ‘homely’ even than the comfort of our hobbit holes.  I know I long for such a home.  Not just the home of my childhood (as happy as it was), or even my present home with my wife and children (as wonderful as it is).  I am thankful for the refuge of such homes.  But even so, I long for the home that lies just beyond my grasp, that place that will put to rest, once and for all, the callousness and cruelty of this world. The home that will possess all the best of all the homes we have known or dreamt of, and then some. 

The good news is that there is such a home.  There is, in fact, a Rivendell.  Even better, in that you can be happy there for days without end.  The disciple John describes it at the close of Revelation:

‘I heard a loud shot from heaven’s throne, saying, ‘Behold!  The home of God is among his people!  He will live with them, and they will be his people.  God himself will be with them.  He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain.  All these things are gone forever’ (21:3-4). 

This is the home we long for, the habitation of absolute safety and love.  Our home in God.  Buechner put it this way: ‘the home we long for and belong to is finally where Christ is.’  It is the place for which we yearn most deeply, the place where, in Christ, we shall one day be.

Until then, we walk as ‘strangers and aliens in the world,’ in search of our ‘homeland’ (see, Hebrews 11:13-14).  And as we do, we cherish the foretastes of home we experience even now, for, yes, where Christ is, there is home, and Christ is, praise be, everywhere.  He is in everything that causes us to ache for home.  He is in His Church, in that moment when a song or a word causes that tear in your eye or that catch in your throat.  He is in the bosom of our families, in those moments of wonder that make everything seem worthwhile.  He is in the rainbow that dazzles the sky in the wake of a violent storm.  He is even, as he was for me the other day, in the wide eyes of a panicky groundhog, racing up a creek bank, reminding me of the importance, and loveliness, of home. 

In such things, we catch glimpses of the day when we shall come at last to the Last Homely House, and find its doors flung wide.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] Frederick Buechner, The Longing for Home: Reflections and Recollections. 

A Non-Military Solution

‘I never saw no military solution that didn’t always end up as something worse’

– Sting, from the song, If I Ever Lose My Faith in You

A week or so ago, two plus weeks into the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts.  The hosts are Christians for whom I have the deepest respect.  But I became troubled as they began recounting with pride the violent resistance being offered by Ukrainians.  Please don’t get me wrong.  What Putin and his armies are doing is evil.  They are the aggressors, the Ukrainians the victims, and her resisters have shown remarkable courage over the past several weeks.  Outmanned and outgunned, they have stood against overwhelming odds.  I take nothing away from them in the bravery department.  Moreover, I get why they are fighting back.  No one wants to see their land, their homes, their national and cultural identity stolen from them.  I understand the Ukrainian willingness to fight, the courage being displayed as they do so, and the natural response, even among Christians, to cheer them on. 

But here’s the thing, Jesus told us not to. 

I’ve written frequently about Jesus’ position on violence (e.g., check out my previous post on Ukraine).  Suffice it to say he was against it.  He commanded his followers to love their enemies.  To turn the other cheek.  To offer up creative nonviolent protest, as opposed to violent resistance, in the face of evil.  When the powers came for him in Gethsemane, he refrained from calling on the angels of heaven (something he specifically said he could do) and commanded Simon Peter to put away his sword, adding, ‘anyone who lives by the sword will die by the sword’ (Matthew 26:52).  At the cross, he really put his money where his mouth was by praying for, as opposed to fighting, his enemies, choosing to love them to the end (and, I might add, winning a couple of them over). Later, after his Resurrection and Ascension (ahem, proof of the wisdom of his approach), he revealed to his disciple John the importance of following the peaceable way of the Lamb rather than the violent way of the dragon (See, generally Revelation).  And his disciples, Simon Peter included, threw away their swords forever, forsaking them to pursue the Gospel of peace. 

So why would Christians advocate for violent resistance against the Russians?  And why are so many seemingly chomping at the bit, increasingly with each passing day, to adopt policies that will only escalate the violence? 

Well, again, I kind of get why.  The atrocities we are witnessing are horrifying.  It is callous, even cruel, to sit by and do nothing.  That does not, however, mean that doing something requires violence.  There are other options that do not require the sword.    

In fact (again, see my previous post), many Ukrainians have been living out those other options.  They have prayed and sang hymns.  They have resisted nonviolently.  They have stood in the way of tanks and made them turn around.  They have blocked streets with cranes and cement blocks.  They have removed street signs to confuse Russian troops.  They have shown comfort and mercy to Russian soldiers.  They have demonstrated their dignity and humanity to the oppressor.  They have provided witness to the very sort of creative, nonviolent resistance that Jesus encouraged his disciples to engage in.  The kind that, believe it or not, has worked repeatedly in history.  In Gandhi’s movement for independence in India.  In the candlelight vigils and non-violent protests that removed the Iron Curtain in Eastern Europe.  In the actions of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his allies during the American Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 60s.  In the 2004 Orange Revolution in…wait for it, Ukraine!

So why aren’t we talking about that?  Why are we not telling those inspiring tales? Why are we not talking about mobilizing a sustained non-violent effort against the Russian invaders? 

The hard fact is that Putin and his forces are hell bent on taking Ukraine, and a martial response will gain nothing but death (as Edwin Starr sang, ‘war ain’t nothin’ but a heartbreaker/friend only to the undertaker’).  People cheered in the days prior to the invasion as Ukraine armed grandmothers and children.  Now grandmothers and children are dying.  There is no viable military solution here.  Strike back at Putin and the Russians, and they fire more bullets and drop more bombs.  Get NATO involved, and there will be a broader war with even more bombs.  Some of which may be nukes.  I repeat: there is no viable military solution here, no way to take up the sword, that doesn’t both result in increased casualties (both military and civilian) and threaten a regional, perhaps even global, war the likes of which we have never seen.  We may be able to understand why people would take up arms against an invader, but in the final analysis Jesus was right: those who take up the sword die by the sword even as they kill their enemies.  Violence begets violence. 

And here’s the bottom line for followers of Jesus (I presume most reading this post are): even if there were a viable military solution, that solution would be off limits for us.  We can neither pursue nor champion such a solution, for we belong to the Kingdom of the Lamb.  We must, instead, pursue and champion the long hard path of creative, nonviolent resistance.

That is our only option.  Not to fight, but to love.  Not to strike, but to pray.  To wage war not as the world does, but as Christ has (See, 2 Corinthians 10:4). 

Again, I understand why Christians are enthralled by the Ukrainian stand and why they want to do something to help.  But all Christians, both those in Ukraine and elsewhere, must remember who they are.  They, that is, we, must remain true to the Gospel call to creative nonviolent resistance and lift up such means as an alternative to war.

For that, as hard as it may be, is the way of Jesus. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

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

Lessons from Forbidden Island

‘But Among you it will be different’ – Jesus, in Mark 10:42

Game night.  My family gathered around the table.  On the menu is Forbidden Island, a cooperative adventure game in which players work together to find four magical treasures before the island on which they lie sinks into the sea.  Each player picks a character with special powers to help in the quest.  It’s a great game and my family always has a wonderful time with it.  If you’ve never played, you should check it out.  It’s a terrific way to teach your family the value of working together. 

Trouble is, this time, the kids got into an argument right at the outset.  My ten-year-old son Caleb had his heart set on us searching for treasure as four particular characters, believing his combination would make the game more challenging.  My thirteen-year-old daughter, Kaeleigh, however, did not like that Caleb was choosing everyone’s character for them.  She wanted to pick her own.

Enter chaos. 

‘I want to play with these four characters!’

‘You’re being a dictator!  We should each get to pick our own roles!’

‘Mom and Dad don’t care which ones they play with, why should you?!’

‘Because I do!’

‘Okay, which one do you want to be?’

Oddly, Kaeleigh chose the very character Caleb had picked out for her. 

‘What!’ Caleb screamed.  ‘Why are we arguing!  If that’s who you wanted, what’s the big deal!  Why on earth didn’t you just accept who I picked out for you!’ 

‘Because you don’t get to choose for someone else!  Everyone should be able to pick for themselves!  Everyone should have equal rights!  Blame Dad, he’s the one who taught me about fairness and equality!’ (I was proud to hear her say that!).

And that’s when Caleb, desperate to win the argument, said some ridiculous, yet unfortunately descriptive things about the world.

‘Fairness! Equality!  What on earth are you talking about?  There’s no such thing as fairness or equality!  Think about it!  Sexism!  Racism!  Why do you think there are poor people?  Nothing’s fair in this world!  How can you talk to us about equality?!’

And there it was – a teachable moment.  Cooperative play wasn’t the only lesson my family would get that night from Forbidden Island.  I could sense my son’s pain as he spoke the words about the world he knows and has every reason to be concerned about.  I knew that deep down he didn’t believe we should mirror that world but was only trying to win the argument.  But still, there were some things that needed to be said. 

‘Caleb,’ I said, ‘you are right.  Equality isn’t easily found in the world.  It breaks my heart, as I know it does yours, but yes, there is sexism.  There is racism.  People do not share the way they should.  The world is blatantly unfair.’

‘Exactly!’

‘But both of you, listen: in this house, we practice equality.  In this house, we stand against racism and sexism.  In this house, we share.  And not just in our house.  In our church too.  Why?  Because we follow Jesus.  Jesus practices equality and wants us to do so as well.  We do if for Him, we do it for ourselves, and we do it so that the world around us, as unequal and unfair as it is, gets to see a better way.  As followers of Jesus, it is our responsibility to live this way, no matter how people around us are living.  We must live differently.’ 

Caleb didn’t like losing the argument, but he had to admit I was right.  ‘Okay.  I can’t argue with that.  From now on I’ll let everyone pick their own characters.’ 

And so the game began (sadly, the island sank on us before we retrieved all four treasures, but hey, there’s always next time). 

The next day I thought more deeply about my words.  I believe they pretty much sum up what it means to live as a citizen of Jesus’ Kingdom.  We live in a fallen world, where oh so much is wrong.  Much of which we can do little about, just as in the days of the early Church, there was little Christians then could do create immediate change in their world.  There’s was a world of inequality and unfairness.  A world of oppression and persecution.  A world of hatred and violence.  Not all that different from our own.  So what did the Christians do? 

They lived differently. 

In a world where equality was a joke, they insisted that in Christ, there were no distinctions, neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female.  All were one in Christ Jesus (Galatians 3:28).

In a world of violence, they refused to wage war, employing instead weapons not of this world – such as prayer and enemy love – to overcome the forces arrayed against them (2 Corinthians 10:3-4). 

In a world where the ‘have’s’ accumulated while the ‘have not’s’ wanted, they shared their resources to the extent there was not a needy person among them, choosing to consider their possessions the common property of all (Acts 4:32-37). 

In a world of hopelessness, they hoped (Romans 8:25).

In a world where the powerful lorded authority over their subjects, they followed the path of servant love (Mark 10:42-45).

In a world that was sinking, they worked together to stay afloat (Ephesians 4:16).

In a world that took up the sword, they took up the Cross (Mark 8:34). 

In short, in a world where the shadows not only existed but deepened, they insisted on being the light. 

This is still our call today.  No matter how unequal, unfair, unjust, or unpeaceable the world around us may be, we who follow Christ must live differently. We must live as citizens of the Kingdom and show the world the way things will one day be. 

Most especially when the island seems to be sinking.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

We Need to Talk About Bruno

‘I am the prophet and I smolder and burn.  I scream and cry and wonder why you never seem to learn.  To hear with your own hears, with your own eyes to see.  I am the prophet won’t you listen to me?’

– Michael Card, from the song, The Prophet

It seems everyone these days is talking about not talking about Bruno.

Bruno, of course, is one of the characters in Disney’s most recent cinematic contribution, Encanto, which tells the story of the Madrigal family and their magical house.  I’ll try not to ruin the movie much for those who have not seen it, but briefly, the members of the Madrigal family, all except one, Mirabel, have received magical gifts from their magical dwelling.  With each gift, however, comes a tremendous burden, none greater than the one carried by the unfortunately un-talked about Bruno. 

The problem with Bruno, it seems, is that he’s a bit of a downer.  As the song informs us, Bruno has a habit of telling people things they don’t want to hear.  On his sister’s wedding day, the sun was shining, and all seemed right with the world.  Bruno said, ‘it looks like rain,’ and soon enough – a hurricane!  A townsperson is told his fish will die, and it happens the next day.  One man complains about being told he would increase in girth over time and, Walla!  Beer gut!  To another Bruno points out a receding hairline, and of course is blamed when the recipient of this news eventually goes bald.  People come to fear his every ‘stuttering or stumbling,’ his ‘muttering or mumbling.’  They come to believe that Bruno is the cause of every impending calamity of which he speaks.

But he isn’t.  He’s just a seer.  An observer of reality.  A truth-teller.  If there are storm clouds in the sky, you should probably move the wedding inside.  If your fish is sick, you should take care lest it die.  If you eat too much, you will gain weight.  If your hairline is making a run for your backside, you may as well get used to the idea that you’ll go bald someday.  Bruno isn’t the cause of things.  He’s just the one who points them out. 

Which, I will reveal, remembering my promise not to ruin the movie too much, lands him in exile; hiding in the eaves and crawlspaces of his own home while his family and community do their darndest not to talk about him.

The Bible has people like Bruno.  They’re called prophets.  Seers and truthtellers.  They speak for God, sometimes in the form of divine visions, more often by simply reading the signs of the times and communicating what is wrong and where things may go if certain courses aren’t altered (all under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, of course).  Sometimes they tell of hopeful things (as does Bruno) but such words usually get lost in the rush of their chastisements and warnings.   Theirs is the reputation of Gandalf in the halls of Rohan.  They are seen as the harbingers of bad tidings.  Storm crows. 

God surely appreciates their efforts and rewards them, if not in life, in eternity.  But when it comes to human society, the task of a prophet is a pretty thankless job.  People don’t always (usually?) want to hear the truth.  The most common reaction to a prophet’s words is exemplified by King Ahab’s response in the wake of Micaiah warning against his plan to go to war: ‘Didn’t I tell you?  He never prophecies anything but trouble for me!’ (2 Chronicles 18:17).  Jeremiah was, among other things, tossed in a cistern and held in stocks for his troubles. Isaiah, tradition holds, was sawed in half. Zechariah stoned in the courtyard of the Temple.  No prophet had it easy.  Frederick Buechner noted that ‘no prophet is on record as having asked for the job…like Abraham Lincoln’s story about the man being ridden out of town on a rail, if it wasn’t for the honor of the thing, the prophets would all have rather walked.[1]  

But we need prophets.  To help us see when we are wrong.  To speak truth when the world goes mad.  To point the way to sanity.  Bruno, who no one wants to talk about, is exactly what the Madrigal family needs.  Without him and his ‘prophecies they couldn’t understand,’ there would be no hope for them.  Bruno’s truth-telling is what his family most desperately needs (watch the movie and you’ll find out precisely why).  Which is why they most certainly need to talk about him, to think about his words and act upon them, just as much as people needed to talk about, listen, and respond to the prophets in Bible times. 

Every generation needs its prophets.  Its Brunos.  Ours is no exception.  There is a deplorable dearth of truth in our day.  People create their own versions of it, even going so far as to label them ‘alternative facts.’  They stroll along in ignorance in self-created fantasies which harm others (and themselves).  They deny evidence of impending calamity, even as they sow its seeds.  They prefer to silence serious discussion of important matters for fear of upsetting either themselves or the people around them; like the false prophets and priests of old they cry ‘Peace, peace!’ when there is no peace (see, Jeremiah 6:14).  Whether we are talking about political, cultural, environmental, spiritual, medical, scientific, or other realities, too many stick their heads in the sand and ignore the signs of the times.  They’d rather pretend their ‘wedding day’ will be lovely, even as a hurricane bears down upon them. 

Which is why I thank God for the Brunos in our midst.  Yes, they may be downers, they may rain on our parades, but we need them.  We dare not forget about them, sending them off to live in the eaves and basements while the world falls apart.  We need them to call us to awareness, repentance, and action. 

So by all means folks, let’s talk about Bruno. 

And, more importantly, listen and respond to what Bruno has to say.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] Frederick Buchner, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker’s ABC, s.v. ‘Prophet.’

MLK and the Theology of Hope

Say not the days are evil – Who’s to blame?

Or fold your hands, as in defeat – O shame!

Stand up, speak out, and bravely,

In God’s name…

It matters not how deep entrenched the wrong,

How hard the battle goes, the day how long,

Faint not.  Fight on!

Maltbie D. Babcock

This past week we marked the day that honors the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.  No doubt you heard and read many eloquent testimonies to his life, legacy, and patient endurance in the face of evil.  Among the words I read were these from the editorial board of The Washington Post:

‘King preached both urgency and patience – nonviolent perseverance in the face of fire hoses, dogs, beatings, lynchings.  Every second of marginalization [for African Americans] was intolerable.  Yet it took a decade after King’s 1955 Montgomery, Ala., bus boycott for Congress to approve the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1955.  Enslaved Americans had been freed a century before.  King did not lose hope.  He kept working.’ 

King understood that it takes patience to overcome evil.  For King evil was not theoretical.  He knew that evil is real and difficult to root out.  In the face of all that he and his partners endured in the struggle against evil, the obstacles that stood in the way of progress, and the slow pace of reform, it would have been easy for him to have lost hope and given up.  Truth be told, there were moments when he was tempted to do so.  But he never did.  He kept hoping.  He kept working. 

In this, I submit, King expressed the Theology of Hope. 

The Theology of Hope always endures in the face of evil.  It knows that in a fallen, broken world, evil exists, and that from time to time, gains the power to, for a time, have its way.  But it does not let that knowledge quench the hope for better days.  It believes.  It perseveres.  It works for better days even when their arrival is delayed.  For it knows, as King so famously said (although it was actually the Reverend Theodore Parker who said it first) that ‘the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.’ 

We need King’s perspective in the times we face.  As a new year breaks upon the shore of our lives, there is much that might cause us to despair.  America is becoming balkanized.  People believe the most bizarre conspiracy theories.  A slow-moving coup continues apace.  The days when people pulled together and sacrificed for the sake of the general welfare seem to be gone forever; individualism, at least in some quarters, has all but triumphed over communitarian love for neighbor.  Truth is both relative and disposable.  Democratic principle, the foundation on which our society has been built, however imperfectly, is under assault and crumbling.  What happens when the very foundations of a society are broken?  When everyone does what is right in their own eyes?  When truth is lost, and people are divided?  History tells the answer: evil rises and takes over.  And yes, my friends, we are witnessing evil rising to do so before our very eyes.

I suppose some at this point may be thinking, ‘Gee, Brent doesn’t sound very hopeful.  Where is his Theology of Hope?’  Please bear with me.  I confess that I am not extremely hopeful about stopping evil in its tracks at the moment.  Evil exists in our society (it always does in any society) and all signs point to its rising.  We may well be entering a period of time unlike any experienced in most of our lifetimes, a period when evil men and women take the reins of power and bring down the veil of darkness.  Just how dark things may get I cannot say.  But darkness does indeed seem to be on the horizon.  To say so is not to express the loss of hope.  Rather, it is to acknowledge current trends. It is to acknowledge the same reality that King knew, that from time to time, and for a time, evil, which always exists, gains in power.   

Hope, you see, is not the fool’s hope that denies the existence of evil, but the solid ground on which we stand even as it rises.  Hope abounds, even when evil seems to gain the upper hand.  I for one, have not lost hope in these darkening days.  For I know what King knew.  Evil exists, and evil may prosper for a time.  This is the reality of life in a fallen world.  But the moral arc of the universe bends toward justice.  It bends toward love.  And if that is true, and it is, then evil will not endure.  It may have its hour, but in the end, it will be cast down.  Love and justice will have the final say. 

Christian faith proclaims this.  It proclaims the Theology of Hope.  As a Christian, I believe in the light that shines in the darkness that shall never be overcome.  I believe in the God who raises the dead, who can turn the darkest days to the bright morning light.  I believe in the day of evil’s destruction and the restoration of all things.  I believe in the sun of righteousness that rises with healing in its wings.  And I believe that, until that day comes, while the darkness may come from time to time, the darkness will last only a night; everlasting joy will come with the morning. 

So what do we do if we live to see days when darkness falls in deepening shades? 

There is a great scene in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, in which Frodo Baggins, having found himself torn from his beloved and peaceful Shire and cast into the center of a cosmic battle between good and evil, laments that such circumstances have come during his lifetime.  ‘I wish the ring had never come to me,’ he tells Gandalf, ‘I wish none of this had ever happened.’  Gandalf’s reply is remarkable: ‘So do all who live to see such times.  But that is not for them to decide.  All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.’  And then he adds these encouraging words: ‘There are other forces at work in this world beside the will of evil…and that is an encouraging thought.’

Indeed it is.  This is why we can have faith that the moral arc of the universe bends toward justice and love.  Because there is One who does the bending: the God of love and justice. 

And so, when evil days come, we cling to hope.  We persevere.  We endure.  And we work.  We speak truth.  We strive for justice.  We live in such a way that the world sees an alternative to the madness taking place around us.  We show the world a different future as we serve as signposts pointing to better days.  As Gandalf suggested, we do the best with the time given to us.  And we believe that God will use that time, and our efforts, to bring about better days. 

That is what Christian faith does when darkness falls.  It holds, as King did, to the Theology of Hope. 

And waits for morning.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent