Not a Racist!

More than a few accusations of “racism” have been hurled at the president and his supporters. Even clothing items bearing the MAGA brand such as campaign t-shirts or the signature red cap have become super-charged with racial tension. Those in favor of the MAGA movement have consistently expressed disbelief and anger at how their commitment to racial equality is being questioned solely based on their political affiliations. Let’s be honest, insinuating that someone or a whole group is “racist” probably amounts to the worst sort of insult known to modern society. Even notorious white supremacists like Richard Spencer are reluctant to claim the dubious title of “racist.” It seems we’ve done a thorough job of rebuking “racism” (as an abstraction, anyway), but perhaps we haven’t done as thorough a job of defining it. If by “racist” we mean individuals who have conscious malice in their hearts toward other racial groups, then I’d agree with the sentiment that “not all of the president’s supporters are racist.” However, racism is not confined to aiming a fire-hose at a peaceful protester, turning an attack dog loose, or pouring a drink on someone’s head as they sit at a “whites only” lunch counter.

“Racism” is better understood as systems of power that work in favor of one racial group and/or against another. And while racial bias and even deep seated prejudice can be found in individuals of all sorts and shades, it's only the majority culture—white America in this case—that has the necessary collective power (in both numbers and influence) to manifest the far more harmful expressions of societal racism.

The president has consistently marketed himself as the best means to combat the hordes of “invading” brown people (whether they’re coming across our southern border, hail from Muslim majority countries—Muslim majority countries with which we don’t have strong economic ties, anyway—are already here as “Kenyan-born globalists” who have “illegitimately” held the highest public office, or are among the numerous “ungrateful” black athletes who don’t appreciate what white America has “given” them). He regularly promotes “dangerous brown man” tropes when he refers to undocumented Mexican immigrants as “rapists and murderers,” demonizes Middle Eastern refugees (while ignoring the fact that white, natural-born citizens are statistically a greater terror threat to the US public), or highlights anecdotal examples of criminal behavior carried out by immigrants (despite the data indicating that natural-born citizens commit crimes at higher rates than immigrants, documented or otherwise). Advancing the “dangerous brown man” narrative yields tremendous political utility, and it also does great harm to our brothers and sisters of color. It’s not that the president is simply a racist politician (I’m sure we have plenty of those on either side of the aisle); it’s that overt racism is at the core of his political message.

The societal scapegoat mechanism nestled within the “dangerous brown man” narrative is as old as the fall. Jesus willingly subjected himself to this twisted system as part of God's plan for him to be the final Scapegoat, and in so doing exposed the dark powers and their perverse methods to public shame. The scapegoat mechanism at the heart of racist systems has been judged on the cross and overcome by the reconciling love of God. The resurrected Christ, as the new human, is creating a new humanity in himself that will be fully submitted to his Father and suited for the new creation. When Christ-followers abandon the good news of God's better kingdom and return to a racist, scapegoat narrative it is not only perverse, it is nothing short of anti-Christ.

No doubt many of the president's supporters are conscious of his racist message, while others—perhaps most of them—are merely complicit. Should it be any consolation to our brothers and sisters of color, though, to hear that many of their white friends and neighbors are “not racist” but just too unconcerned with their well-being to recognize and resist racist propaganda? Does it improve the situation for them to know that we “don't approve” of racism, but it's not exactly a deal-breaker either? Does our ignorance about how racism actually works absolve us of our racism (especially considering that our brothers and sisters of color have been shouting it to us at the top of their lungs for generations now)? Does our “noble cause” (appointment of conservative, pro-life Supreme Court Justices, protection of religious liberties, etc.) justify the racist means by which we have attained power?

If we've bought into the president's “dangerous brown man” narrative—a narrative that is not only factually untrue, it's an offense against the Imago Dei—then we've empowered racism in America. If we've merely tolerated the president's narrative in support of his candidacy, then we've likewise actively given power to racism. If we've hidden behind an insufficient definition of racism, one which only describes individual conscious prejudice, then we've ignored and therefore empowered the widespread observable inequities of systemic societal racism. It should be noted, I think, that it's this inadequate yet popular definition of racism that sustains numerous white delusions regarding race and America. One of which is that it's impossible to be both “racist” and also happily working, recreating, and worshiping with people of color. It's an unfortunate truth, however, that we can be both pleasantly disposed toward individuals of a racial group and at the same time actively harming them by way of our “politics” and shared societal perceptions.

I'm fully aware that calling the president's supporters—including several of my friends and family—“racist” is considered by many to be inflammatory and unkind. And I should make clear that I’m not suggesting that jumping on the MAGA train is the only way to actively or passively empower racism (the various permutations of the “dangerous brown man” narrative certainly predate the president, and they will almost certainly outlive him). Reducing “racism” exclusively to pouring a drink on someone’s head or wearing a red MAGA cap is to avoid the more complex and implicating questions of how racialized systems of power form and manifest throughout our society. At the end of the day, it's tragic that we're more upset by accusations of “racism” than we are by actual racism. We're more concerned with exonerating ourselves than acknowledging and addressing our contributions to unjust and racist systems of power. And is it a surprise to any of us that it's always the powerful and the privileged—the folks for whom the system works—who insist that we hold our tongues, that we avoid “divisiveness” in order to “keep the peace?” It's with such sensitivity, over-the-top politeness, and measured diplomacy that we regularly handle our fragile white brothers and sisters. But what of our brothers and sisters of color? What of their feelings? And what of their Maker? Do we also consider how they will be offended by our “polite” silence?

I’m not writing this for those who are already set against the president and his supporters. For many of them it would only serve as a hearty source of self-gratification, further smug confirmation that the monsters all reside on the other side of the aisle (after all, hashtags and virtue signaling are more about announcing that “I am not a racist” than actually addressing racism in any meaningful way). Likewise, I wouldn’t waste my time on the committed MAGA disciple who would zealously stay the course even after being rebuked by Jesus himself in a road-to-Damascus type encounter. It’s the people of “genuine good will” that Dr. King identified in his letter from a Birmingham jail that I’m addressing. Those who seek God’s kingdom and would genuinely want to know if they were mistaken. Peter, friend of Jesus, was once cowed by a racially prejudiced majority into compromising the gospel. In response, Paul "opposed him to his face" in a public setting. I take no pleasure in pointing out our racism, but it has to be done. There's no way out until we name it, no future wholeness without genuine repentance, and no hope for reconciliation without justice. Shame on the numerous shepherds who in an effort to spare their white parishioners’ feelings fail to clearly and publicly identify the racism at the core of the MAGA movement. Their cowardice on this topic is helpful to no one (least of all themselves). The “to each his own” approach to politics within the church, as if politics are morally neutral, is reckless and wrong. As is the tunnel vision of party-driven theology. We mustn’t see the three-fifths compromise, state sanctioned genocide of westward expansion and manifest destiny, legal wholesale murder of the unborn, the corporate destruction of God’s good creation for economic gain, or the dehumanization of an “other” to catalyze a political base as merely “politics.” To quote the prophet Bonhoeffer, "God will not hold us guiltless."

He (or she) who has ears to hear, let them hear.

 

“An open rebuke is better than hidden love! Wounds from a sincere friend are better than many kisses from an enemy.” - Proverbs 27:5-6

 

Don't Shoot the Messenger: The Art of Receiving a Rebuke (From Anyone)

 
 



I've written elsewhere about how difficult it is to receive a rebuke of any kind. Universal human pride often cripples us in this regard, rendering us impervious to many hard truths that we are in some cases desperately needing to hear. Now if we add to our natural resistance to criticism an unwelcome or “unqualified” messenger, we generally get a perfect storm of indignant rage and outright rejection. More often than not we'll dig our heels in, gnash our teeth, and look for the nearest proverbial stones to hurl at our “attacker.” This happened to Stephen, the 1^st Century deacon who dared rebuke the religious establishment (only the stones were real), and it certainly happened to our fearless leader, a formally uneducated, penniless, backwoods, thirty-something, upstart Galilean who had the audacity to not only publicly deconstruct the prevailing cultural, political, and religious narratives but to also promote his own subversive counter-kingdom in their place. Jesus often accomplished this by telling stories, many of which intentionally featured the least likely of messengers (people of other religions, minorities, immigrants, collaborators, racial adversaries, oppressors, and women) to not only expose his audiences' preconceptions and prejudices but to also humble us to the necessary starting point of a gospel-centric, disciple who is finally ready to fall to our knees, beat our chest, and cry out “God, have mercy on me, a sinner!”

God regularly chooses unqualified agents to deliver his rebuke. The ancient kingdoms of Israel and Judah, for example, were overrun by nations that were more wicked than they. Receiving a rebuke from an enemy, or someone we think is “beneath us,” has to be the hardest pill to swallow. An ancient Israelite could reasonably respond to Assyria and Babylon with, “who are you to rebuke us for our idolatry, sexual misconduct, neglect for the poor, materialism, and numerous injustices?!” It would be like receiving a lecture on the destructive nature of lust from none other than Hugh Hefner.

When we're wrong, we're wrong. It doesn't really matter who points it out.

I once saw a conservative meme that said something like, “I don't listen to lectures about gun control from people who kill babies.” The sentiment “I will only receive advice or correction from a source that I deem worthy of my attention” is arrogant and almost certainly guarantees that God will send a messenger of the sort that we would hate to have knocking on our door. I'm certainly not saying that all criticism is true or helpful. Most criticism will be a mixture of truth and distortion. A good friend of mine often says we must “eat the meat, and spit out the bones.” I am reminded of King David’s humility as he was running for his life from his treasonous son Absalom (2 Samuel 16). A man named Shimei, who had obviously been holding a grudge, seized on this opportunity to pelt David with insults and stones as the king fled Jerusalem. David could have responded to Shimei’s attack with an explanation (though David was certainly a murderer and an adulterer, he wasn’t guilty of the false accusations that Shimei was hurling at him) or even retribution, but he instead chose to silently endure it, knowing that God may be using this unqualified messenger to deliver a rebuke. Say what you like about David, the man knew how to take a rebuke. It may take work to sort through criticism that's full of bones, but it is time well spent to hear the voice of God and to be humbly set back in step with his heart. Who will be the next to expose our blind spots, I wonder? Who will God use to shed light on our inconsistencies, the areas of our heart over which he intends to rule unrivaled? I think that largely depends on how “dull of hearing” we have become. Perhaps it will be a Muslim; a transgendered person; an atheist; a grizzly, old, foul-mouthed, racist neighbor; or a pretentious, tatted up, man-bun-wearing, hipster. Will we disregard the rebuke due to our low opinion of the source, or will we earnestly examine ourselves to see where we may be off course?

The multigenerational nature of the Church is truly a blessing from God. We must never be so proud as to reject Godly counsel or a rebuke from a messenger that we have deemed too young or too old to have anything helpful to convey. We are reminded throughout Scripture of the wisdom that often comes with many years and also warned against looking down or disregarding someone because of their youth (knowing that God amuses himself by frequently utilizing the unqualified and ill-equipped). Young and old followers of Christ need each other. The impetuousness of youth is tempered by the prudence of experience, and the stagnation of weathered pragmatism can be reinvigorated with youthful passion and reckless faith.

I have often received invaluable counsel and constructive criticism from older Christ-followers. In the interest of full disclosure, I was born in '81 (which generally makes me a young Gen Xer, but some estimations count me as an old Millennial). It is primarily Boomers (along with saints now deceased, like Towzer and Lewis) who have informed my worldview and led me to an understanding of God. We have benefited greatly from our spiritual mothers and fathers in the faith (from the Silent Generation and Boomers). They have largely made us what we now are. But I believe there are some sweeping generational blind spots that are being manifested throughout the American Church, things that we can no longer ignore, things that younger generations are in a unique position to expose. There are many ways in which the old guard (I'm of course speaking in a very general sense here) has apparently settled into arguably unbiblical trends toward safety, comfort, and pragmatism (at the expense of God's upside down kingdom and unavoidably dangerous agenda). I don't know that the generations have ever been so divided in their approach to local and world politics. The old guard is dumbfounded by the younger generation's perceived lack of patriotism and financial responsibility. Millennials are often seen as reckless and naive idealists. Their lack of interest in pursuing political solutions and legislation to achieve desired kingdom outcomes seems “irresponsible” and “lazy” to Boomers. Their growing disengagement from many of the established, Western, ecclesiological models is seen as a great apostasy. But I've got to hand it to Millennials. I think they are largely misunderstood by the old guard (and I'm sure the opposite is also true) but actually have some very helpful contributions to many of these pressing issues.

Before we proceed, I will state emphatically that I know many Boomers and Millennials that do not conform to these broad characterizations. This discussion merely highlights some overarching trends that noticeably vary by generation. Even with this preface, I’m sure I will still regrettably manage to offend those to whom these trends do not apply. If you find no meat, no sustenance—spit it out. And forgive me for offering you a plate of bones.

The Millennial rebuke to an older American generations' materialism, nationalism, closeted xenophobia, reliance on political power, and tendencies toward safety is mostly coming in the form of a largely silent yet powerful counter-example. Many Millennial Christ-followers are abandoning safe and practical career paths (often to the chagrin of their concerned parents) in favor of pursuing risky domestic and international kingdom endeavors: proclaiming freedom to those trapped in poverty, seeking justice for the exploited, sex trafficked, and hungry and hurting immigrants and refugees, declaring and demonstrating the good news of God's kingdom in costly and innovative ways. I believe Millennial Christ-followers have been doing more to address noticeable inconsistencies (“noticeable” to our ideological adversaries, anyway) in our shared “pro-life” position than past generations (recognizing that black lives, the LGBT community, undocumented immigrants and refugees, and even our enemies also and equally bear the Imago Dei, which is the basis for affirming and defending the sanctity of human life). Millennials are rejecting the brand of nationalism and exceptionalism that has characterized the old guard in favor of fearlessly embracing an increasingly interconnected world as a means to more effectively pursuing the Great Commission. They are serving the multicultural, global community of Christ in new and sacrificial ways, and they are recognizing and speaking up about the damage done when the American Church marries itself to political candidates who tout nativism and isolationism. They are less likely to grasp for political power and more likely to lay down their rights and accept “persecution” in an effort to obey Christ's command to willingly “go the extra mile.” Millennials are also more interested in pursuing authentic, incarnational ministry and organic church life outside the walls of church buildings and established programs and processes. I find their rejection of rote religion, spawned by their pure hunger for a living God and his better kingdom, admirable and refreshing.

If you’ve ever had your sin brought to your attention by your 5-year-old (I’m speaking hypothetically, of course), then you know how difficult it can be to acknowledge an error under less than ideal circumstances. Our knee-jerk reaction is to “explain,” excuse, retaliate, or change the subject. But the Spirit of God within us urges us to confess, repent, and move forward in his strength.

Do Christian Millennials have blind spots? Of course they do. And I've seen numerous articles and heard endless rants about what is “wrong” with them. I’m not suggesting that Boomers must fully embrace a Millennial reformation. My purpose here is not to demean or retire past generations or to drive a further wedge between young and old members of the family of God. My purpose is to encourage an atmosphere in which Spirit-led instruction, when appropriate, can potentially come from anywhere. We must regularly compare our personal and generational values and priorities to the values and priorities of Christ. If there is anything that doesn’t line up, we must let it go—no, we must crucify it! I would suggest to the Boomers that if they can get past their younger counterparts' inexplicable preoccupation with Pokémon GO, lumberjack beards, and covering every last inch of their bodies with tattoo art, they may see the image of Christ beautifully displayed through many of these upstart, whippersnappers. In spite of their harsher characterizations as suffering from “Peter Pan syndrome,” being “uninformed,” “over-sensitive,” and “self-important,” I am obviously very hopeful about Christian Millennials. In many ways they are boldly leading the way, but they are still in need of the acquired wisdom of older Christ-followers who were once regarded as “rebels” in their own right.

One of the greatest obstacles preventing Jesus' adversaries from accepting the LIFE he freely offered was that their proud hearts refused to receive instruction from such a humble source. Who did this young, uneducated and unemployed, outspoken, ragged, revolutionary from Nazareth of all places think he was that he could trample on their most deeply held traditions? And Jesus was not in any way gentle with their treasured and time-honored values and institutions either. He knew that their misconceptions about reality were keeping them from God. If we are of the sort that gets our feathers ruffled easily, we should not so quickly presume that we would be on the right side of the cultural, political, and religious clash between Jesus and many of his contemporaries. After all, coming around to Jesus’ way of thinking requires a miraculous Spirit-empowered act of suicide on our part—his new LIFE offered in exchange for our willing death. If we as broken human beings are set on becoming like Jesus, then we must be prepared for constant course adjustments, frequent death to ourselves in both small and large ways, as the Spirit leads. We must have pliable and humble hearts that are ready to receive his correction, rebukes, and instruction, channeled through even the most unwelcome and unlikely conduits. He may be sending a Samaritan, IRS agent, hooker, or a hipster your way.

“Those who disregard discipline despise themselves, but the one who heeds correction gains understanding” (Proverbs 15:32).

Caesar is not Lord!

 

Gaius Octavius, or “Augustus” as he was later called, was Rome's first emperor and reigning monarch when Jesus was born. In his younger years, he had successfully avenged his assassinated predecessor and adopted father, the beloved Julius Caesar, triumphantly quelled Mark Antony and Cleopatra's famous uprising, effectively transitioned the old republic into an empire, built impressive aqueducts and highways, and ushered in an unprecedented era of peace and prosperity throughout the known world. “Pax Romana,” or the peace of Rome, is how they described Augustus' cumulative accomplishments. His kingdom seemed without end. He was known as the “savior of Rome” and the “savior of the world.” If this were not enough, he had the senate posthumously deify his murdered father and as a result became known as the living son of god. The “prince of peace,” “savior of the world,” “son of god”—remind you of anyone? I don't think we can fully appreciate the audacity and apparent absurdity of Christ's sweeping counterclaims without an understanding of Augustus and his successors. This was the setting in which Jesus' 1st Century followers defiantly contradicted the prevailing sociopolitical narrative by insisting that Jesus—not Caesar—was the true Savior and Lord.

We should take note of our first brothers and sisters' timely example. They didn't buy into the brick and mortar kingdom, and they didn't look to the emperor for things he couldn't provide. They suffered great tribulation at the hands of the Caesars due to their stubborn refusal to participate in the imperial cult (which generally consisted of a simple annual sacrifice to Caesar). 1st Century Christians were often excluded from trade unions, marketplace commerce, and they were eventually crucified and made sport of in the Colosseum. The ethnically, culturally, and religiously diverse Roman empire was traditionally very tolerant of new spiritual ideas. Worshipping the emperor, however, was seen as one's minimal patriotic duty. After which, one was free to pursue any other theological conclusions that struck one's fancy. Jesus, the crucified Galilean, was not seen as a rival to the Roman pantheon, so long as his followers played ball. Only they wouldn't.

There always has been an alternative to Jesus—an antichrist. There's always another kingdom to pursue, another story that promises to be good news. Had the 1st Century Christians been seduced by the dream of “making the empire great again,” building a robust economy, securing the boarders, exhibiting national strength with a firm foreign policy and military prowess—Caesar would have been the obvious leader to follow (or any number of the ambitious zionist militants for the Hebrew Christians wanting to make national Israel great again). Jesus offered none of these things. Two thousand years later, his agenda and upside down methods remain unchanged. 

21st Century American Christ-followers have tragically inherited a faith-culture that sees Christianity and rabid nationalistic pride and devotion as not only compatible, but essentially inseparable. We're enamored with the romanticized glory days of our country, back when Moses penned the 2nd Amendment on Sinai and Jesus rode shotgun with George Washington across the Delaware. Silly as it sounds, contradicting the spirit of this narrative is tantamount to blasphemy in many circles. Our version of the American dream has become a golden calf. So to my brothers and sisters of this star-spangled persuasion, let me state plainly what you already know: The president is not our savior, the United States is not the kingdom of God, and our inappropriate longing to “make America great again” (the way we mean it) is incompatible with, and therefore a distraction from, the mission of God.

Our political anxieties often reveal our misguided hopes and divided loyalties. Every election year is sensationally described as the “most important.” “We can't have—so and so—get elected.” “We're doomed if—what's his face—doesn't get into office.” Whether we're banking on a human hope that promises change we can believe in or the guy or gal who vows to make America great again, we'll always be disappointed. Our leaders are not as to the point as Augustus was in calling himself the "son of god" or the "savior of the world." It's mostly us who expects them to be these things as seen in our collective angst and gnashing teeth. Interestingly, the rancor and vitriol we so freely spew about our political leaders on social media and around the water cooler is just another side of the same ugly hero-worship coin. The cycle of deifying and demonizing human leaders in general and politicians in particular is rooted an unrealistic, and inevitably unmet, expectations. Fellow Christ-follower, we seem to have largely forgotten that Caesar is not lord.

To be clear, I'm not trying to imply that there is a one-for-one equivalence between the Roman Empire and the United States or the Caesars and the Leader of the Free World. Nor am I suggesting that all patriotism is incongruent with following Jesus. I'm also not proposing that there should be a divide between politics and faith. As Christ-followers, we should love our country (wherever that may be), pay our taxes, faithfully perform our civic duties, genuinely respect and obey our leaders (in so far as their commands don't conflict with the wishes of our King), and actively seek the common good (Matt 22:21, 1 Peter 2:13, 17, 1 Cor. 10:24). In our current context, seeking the common good will include taking our democratic responsibilities seriously. In our earnest pursuit of God's kingdom, we will inevitably be invested in political outcomes. But we must never lose sight of our true Savior and Lord, the one who holds the hearts of kings in his hand. We don't look to Caesar for protection and prosperity. We don't curse his/her name when the Dow Jones plummets or unemployment rises. Our gaze is fixed on other things. Even if Nero or Jezebel takes the throne, we know who ultimately reigns supreme, and our lifelong task of declaring and demonstrating the good news of his kingdom remains the same. Keep calm this election season, and thank God that Caesar is not lord.

“to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen” (Jude 1:25). 

Killing the Prophets

 

So it turns out we humans don't like being told when we're wrong. As a rule, we mostly don't enjoy having our deeply held beliefs and preconceptions challenged or even questioned either. We actually hate it—like “gnashing of teeth” hate it. Enter the prophet. These are folks who God has assigned the never-dull task of poking the hornet's nest of human insecurities and exposing the depths of our deeply entrenched rebellion against God. The prophet relentlessly advocates for the heart of God when his heart is being overlooked or ignored. The prophet unapologetic preaches repentance and reformation against the oncoming traffic of popular culture, even popular Christian culture. The prophet is ultimately more concerned with what God thinks than what people think. As a result, prophets are often seen as abrupt, stubborn, malcontents and agitators. As you can imagine, it usually doesn't go well for the prophet.

Prophets are a special breed. When we think of these men and women, we usually think of someone foretelling the future. While they are known to do that, the prophet primarily repeats what God has already said and has been saying for generations. The prophet reminds people of who God is and what he prioritizes and then points them back to what they should already know. When God gives the prophet a peek into the future it's usually just to establish their credibility (Isaiah 45:21) and not the primary message they are charged with delivering. Jeremiah explains the prophet's visceral motivation, “...his word burns in my heart like a fire. It’s like a fire in my bones! I am worn out trying to hold it in! I can’t do it!" (Jeremiah 20:9b NLT).

Prophets are on the fringe. They're usually a little off, as they march to a different drum. It's not unheard of for them to exhibit oddities like wild hair and crazy clothing choices or unexplainable behavior (John the Baptizer ate grasshoppers and as an object lesson Isaiah preached buck-naked for awhile... just saying). Don't write them off because they're out of step. It's often this wilderness-dwelling, outsider lifestyle that makes them the ideal candidates to deeply commune with the heart of God and quickly identify our collective blind spots. Not to mention that you've gotta be a certain kind of crazy to look a king in the eye and rebuke him to his face.

As mentioned, prophets are against the status quo. When everyone else says “yes,” the prophet says “no.” They don't say what we want to hear. They say what we need to hear. They're definitely not winning any popularity contests. Nor would they care to. There's a funny story in 1 Kings chapter 22 where King Ahab of Israel is seeking affirmation from a group of faux-prophets for his proposed war with the nation of Aram. They all enthusiastically give him the thumbs up and tell him “full speed ahead.” But Ahab's ally, Jehoshaphat of Judah, wants to hear from a prophet of YHWH before they head out. Ahab's response cracks me up and is typical of our fallen, corrupted flesh. He says, “There is still one prophet through whom we can inquire of the LORD, but I hate him because he never prophesies anything good about me, but always bad.” Ahab apparently subscribes to the time-honored “what I don't know can't hurt me” philosophy. It reminds me of the guy who doesn't want to go to the dentist because they always find a cavity. So at Jehoshaphat's insistence, they bring the Debbie-Downer into the war room. After some coaxing, Micaiah delivers the word from God, and, just as Ahab predicted, it's bad news—like really bad news. He tells them that the military campaign will be a complete failure and will result in Ahab's death. Ahab has him promptly thrown in prison and orders that he be fed nothing but bread and water. Gee, thanks for your word from the LORD, Micaiah. Actually he got off pretty easy compared to many of his forebearers. Jeremiah is another guy who had an unpopular message. During the final years of Judah's sovereignty, when all the other prophets were predicting peace, prosperity, and liberation from their Babylonian oppressors, Jeremiah was encouraging the people to—get this—lay down their arms and surrender to Nebuchadnezzar, a guy who would undoubtedly knock their wall down, disrespect their king, desecrate their holy city, and probably castrate more than a few of the guys (just for good measure) before he relocated most of them to some far off foreign land. God had made it clear that his mind was made up, punishment was immanent, and the people of Judah were being instructed to obediently receive their well-earned whupping. For his unpatriotic suggestion Jeremiah was labeled a cowardly traitor and thrown in a dank hole. It could have been worse.

It should be noted that we don't so much mind when the prophets are speaking to someone else. In fact, it's in these instances that we're likely to encourage them to “bring the heat.” It's when they direct their rebuke to us that we take “offense” and become combative, feverishly scrambling for our favorite snippets of verses that instantly render their criticisms invalid to our particular case. We fancy ourselves as the ones who listen to the prophets, but I often wonder if we give ourselves too much credit. Would I have heeded the voice of the one crazy looking guy saying to go this direction or would I have followed the masses headed off the other way? I find that it's easy enough to sort things out once the dust has settled. We typically put ourselves on the side of the historical prophets, but do we stand with the contemporary prophets who are challenging us with the unpopular, but timeless, truths of God's word today? Jesus, who was—among other things—a prophet, points out this inconsistency in his detractors. “Woe to you,” he says, “because you build tombs for the prophets, and it was your ancestors who killed them” (Luke 11:47). These Johnny-come-lately fanboys of the prophets were building monuments to the individuals their own parents murdered due to the inconvenience of the message they faithfully delivered. You see it's easy to pay lip service to a message from another time and to another people. We can interpret it in a way that's palatable and safe. It's an entirely different matter, however, when the messenger is standing before us with an uncompromising call to repentance, which inevitably will entail—gasp!—a reconsideration of our dearly held position and a drastic change in our current direction.

Let's be honest, throughout history the prophets have largely stood alone. Most abolitionists, for example, were Christian prophets, persistently calling the Church to repentance, pointing the people of God to the heart of God, and stubbornly demanding that they live out what they claimed they believed. While the American Church now widely praises these reformers, it was many of our Christian ancestors who made their lives a living hell and actively worked against them (in some cases murdered them). It was not uncommon to have sermons preached on the virtues of slavery and how it's one's Christian duty to know one's place and so on. Manifest destiny and all that. Others were just silent in the face of evil. Similar struggles, opposition, and indifference were faced by the relative few who fought for justice during the early days of the civil rights movement. Everyone is at the victory celebration when the war is won, and the “troublemakers” of today are often the heroes of tomorrow. Call them “bull-headed” and “arrogant” if you must, but thank God that the prophets have the grit and internal conviction to stay the course through the heaviest of the fray with little to no human backup.

I believe God has hard-wired the prophet this way for this express purpose. I love what God tells Ezekiel when he is prepping him for his prophetic mission. "You must give them my messages whether they listen or not." He goes on to say, "I have made you as obstinate and hard-hearted as they are.” And the super important part, “...let all my words sink deep into your own heart first. Listen to them carefully for yourself. Then go to your people in exile and say to them, ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says!’" (from Ezekiel 2:7a, 8b, 10b-11a NLT). Noting that these brasher traits are useful, maybe even essential, to the prophet is not to broadly excuse poor behavior. The Apostle Paul points out that even if he has prophetic revelations and understands all mysteries, but lacks love, he has accomplished nothing (1 Corinthians 13). That is to say there is a thin line between unyielding conviction and blind arrogance, refreshing frankness and an uncalled for verbal assault. It is true that untempered strengths often become destructive weaknesses.

Not all change is good change, and not every “reformer” is to be followed. This should be obvious, but I'll say it just in case. For every prophet who is faithfully advocating for the heart of God, there's probably a hundred who are misrepresenting him. God spends as much or more time denouncing the false prophets throughout Scripture as he does endorsing the ones he has commissioned to carry his message. It is imperative that the people of God know his voice, his word, in order to accurately identify the prophets he is speaking through. And we don't want to “know” his word like a Pharisee or a pro-slavery clergyman with an arsenal of proof-texts at the ready, the sort who can describe in great detail the bark on every tree but has never once seen the lush forest that they collectively and beautifully compose. We don't want to be like the guys who could quote the Pentateuch verbatim but failed to recognize the Creator of the universe when he stood spitting distance from their pedantic faces. We want to truly KNOW the Word of God which/who effectively describes the heart of a glorious Being who desires mercy over sacrifice—a pulsating Gospel over dead religion.

I don't want to paint a one-dimensional picture of the prophet. Their message is not always negative, critical, sackcloth, and ashes. They can cast a captivating vision of the way things could be, the way God wants things to be. The prophets gave us glimpses of the Savior, for example, centuries before he walked among us. Seeing that this post is an attempt to understand our hostility toward the prophet, however, I am naturally focusing on the stuff they say and do that gets our dander up.

I thank God for the modern prophets who are challenging me to rethink treasured aspects of the American Dream in light of my Savior's better invitation to take up my cross and follow him. I need my idols of safety and security exposed so I can repent and whole-heartily pursue his kingdom. I know a guy who has been faithfully challenging his friends and family on social media to pursue God's heart for the marginalized, immigrant, and refugee by welcoming war-torn Syrians in the name of Jesus. “Well, I'm fine with the nice ones coming,” I hear the objectors say, “but we can't risk terrorists coming in as well.” “It's just not safe, is all.” “Plus, I've seen on the news how many of them don't really appreciate the help they're being offered anyway.” My Jesus says, “love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked” (Luke 6:35). It's clear that the American Church needs to be reminded of God's heart for immigrants and mercy when we consider how Evangelical voters have been flocking to anti-immigrant presidential candidates as of late. We need prophets who point us back to what we should already know. I for one appreciate those who faithfully remind me of the beautiful and scary commands of Christ.

Prophets are a gift from God. We actually need the prophets in our midst. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul explains how “Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (chapter 4:11-13). Jesus is the perfect apostle, prophet, evangelist, pastor, and teacher. All these traits, or archetypes, must be collectively present in his Body if we are to accurately portray him. We're usually comfortable with the apostles (“sent ones” or missionaries), evangelists, pastors, and teachers. But when the music stops, it's often the prophet who is left without a chair. The prophet is good in theory but often unpleasant and inconvenient in reality. Unless we're masochists, we aren't so fond of having them around. They push us out of our comfort zone and consistently expose our idols. They're often perfectionists because they have their eyes fixed on the Perfect, and they won't let us settle for anything less. If all the Church were prophets, we could probably call it “hell” and not be too far off. But just like the other members of the Body, the prophet performs a unique and irreplaceable function. Let's not assume that they're “just not good team players” and as a result are constantly slowing the pace of the ministry machine. Like Ahab, we're not always concerned with whether or not we're headed in the right direction so long as we're getting there fast. Also, let's not forget that how well we can receive a rebuke is ultimately a measure of our maturity. So how 'bout it folks? Can we agree to stop killing the prophets?