Polarized

 

It's troubling how polarized our society has become. What's more, the church hasn't been immune to this alarming cultural trend. Christians on the Left and the Right often champion a one-dimensional God who affirms all their preferences and pet peeves, while simultaneously turning a deaf ear to other aspects of God's heart that don't appeal to the prevailing conservative or liberal narratives. 

The God of the Bible cares immensely about the dignity and sanctity of human life, even at its most humble and fragile beginnings. He has a divine purpose for gender, marriage, and human sexuality, and he's deeply grieved when we deviate from his good design. He's in favor of a fair government that administers justice and carries out unbiased sentences against criminals. He commands his people to love their countrymen, honor their leaders, and faithfully fulfill their civic duties.

The God of the Bible also cares about the environment. He gave ancient Israel specific instructions to tend to the health of the soil. At one point he warned them not to unnecessarily destroy trees during warfare because the land and everything on it belongs to him, and he expected them to behave as "stewards”—not "owners." He eventually expelled them so, among other things, the land could "rest" for the 70 years he had incrementally mandated. He cares about fair wages for laborers and justice for the marginalized, minorities, immigrants, homeless, people of other religions, etc. He names himself their avenger and warns us not to ignore or exploit people who are voiceless. He requires us to willingly lay down our rights as we selflessly serve others. He condemns economic greed and unbridled excess. He loves charity and mercy. 

It should concern us when we, as Christians, approach our world with very partisan/tribal lenses—when we see issues in regard to their red or blue, Right or Left, appeal instead of viewing them through God's eyes. It's shameful when we irrationally deify or demonize political candidates, propositions, or ideologies due to our tribal affiliations. The resulting cognitive dissonance will make fools out of the best of us. If after personal introspection we find that we typically embrace or outright reject things simply because the spokesperson has an “R” or a “D” next to their name, then we have fallen into this trap.

We increasingly live in artificial worlds of our own making which contribute to our ever-growing polarization. On social media, we can surround ourselves with or “un-friend” people, for example, that agree or disagree with our preconceptions until all we hear is a single note. While this may make for an initially easier existence, it ultimately produces ignorance of the universes next door and eliminates the opportunity to grow in Godly wisdom and understanding. Multiple “news sources,” editorial blogs, infotainment, and quasi-journalists are also available to cater to our insatiable desire for affirmation of what we already believe to be true about the world. Confirmation bias runs rampant in the “information age.” If we happen to hear something that challenges us or, God forbid, makes us angry, we can quickly banish it from our digital world. However, I would strongly encourage my brothers and sisters to resist the urge to take the easy way out. We can only live in our comfortable, artificially affirming worlds for so long before we inevitably collide with numerous other “hostile” worlds, which we are now, due to our own censorship, unequipped to understand or engage. Such is the tragedy of much of what has been labeled the “culture war.” What if we were to instead invest in friendships with people who are very different from us, and genuinely consider opposing views? Perhaps our current perspectives will be made more certain, or maybe our misconceptions will become apparent to us upon review. Either way, we win. 

God is even now taking back his rebel world through the person and work of Jesus. True Gospel transformation—not legislation—will revolutionize the way we view culture, politics, economics, human life, sexuality, immigration, healthcare, environmental conservationism, race, foreign policy, mercy and justice.

Jesus doesn't fit comfortably into the Right or Left's agenda. He's certainly not a Republican or a Democrat. Those who claim to follow him haven't joined a political party, we've offered up our unconditional surrender to a servant King and his counterintuitive kingdom. All of our preferences and pet peeves are to be unreservedly relinquished and superseded by his all-encompassing agenda. American Christian, decide now. There simply is no other way to follow him.

 
“[The devil] always sends errors into the world in pairs—pairs of opposites. And he always encourages us to spend a lot of time thinking which is the worse. You see why, of course? He relies on your extra dislike of the one error to draw you gradually into the opposite one. But do not let us be fooled. We have to keep our eyes on the goal and go straight through between both errors.” ― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity


“Whoever fears God will avoid all extremes.” — Ecclesiastes 7:18b

Stan

 

I met Stan at a coffee shop. He was a jovial retired life insurance salesman who would frequently come in to the downtown location to have his morning cup of joe and to read his paper. His navy blue World War II Vet cap was his daily uniform, and he always had a smile and joke for the baristas. My brother-in-law Mike and I used to meet every Monday morning before work to read Scripture together, so we would often see Stan carryout his morning routine along with the other regulars. 

One morning he walked right over to our table, introduced himself, and asked what we were reading. We told him we were followers of Jesus, and we met weekly to read Scripture together and pray for each other. He proudly declared that he was Jewish and that he didn't believe Jesus was the Messiah. I always appreciated Stan's frankness. He grew up in Brooklyn and didn't waste time getting to the point. Before we left that morning, we let him know he was always welcome to join us. He came back the next week and the week after.

He sat with us just about every Monday for months as we went through the Gospel of John. We got him a large print Bible so he could read with us. He would bring it along with his Hebrew Scriptures, what Christians call the Old Testament, and would read for us when we discussed Isaiah or some of the other prophetic messianic passages. We had many conversations about the promised Messiah. I think Stan debated just about every verse we read, but he kept coming back. 

Stan was raised to distrust Christians. He explained how his immigrant parents viewed the church in Europe as being complicit with or indifferent toward anti-Semitic politics and the eventual murder of millions of Jews. I’m reminded how our political affiliations—our failure to clearly speak out against evil—can potentially create lasting and formidable barriers to Jesus.

Stan shared with us that he had a close friend who became a Christian. He noted that his friend's life was chaotic before meeting Jesus and drastically transformed for the better after. Stan seemed to brush his friend's transformation off as little more than the results of a powerful placebo. Still, he had great respect for him. I wondered if his friend's new birth had sparked a curiosity in Stan that compelled him to want to know more about Jesus. 

Stan knew a lot of the shop’s patrons, so just having him sitting at our table opened the door to some conversations we wouldn’t have otherwise had. I remember how a colorful construction worker, an acquaintance of Stan’s, who apparently had been listening to our conversation, would join in from time to time. We had a few interesting discussions about life and God with this guy who usually sat at a nearby table across the way from us. I pray the seeds of the good news were cast wide in these public conversations, amidst the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop’s morning traffic. 

Stan was very proud of his Jewish heritage. He told us how his kids, when they were young, would invite their classmates and neighborhood friends to join the family at Passover and other celebrations. I loved how Stan and his wife enjoyed explaining the meaning behind the traditions and welcoming strangers to their table. He once invited me to visit his synagogue and warmly introduced my daughter and me to his wife and friends. He also gave me an honorary “Jew Card” (seriously, it's a personalized card that grants me “all the rights of being Jewish”) which was characteristic of his sense of humor. 

We would often conclude our time with prayer. Stan regularly asked us to pray for his wife's arthritis pain and his daughter who had led a troubled life. It wasn't common for Stan to make a request for himself. Characteristic of his generation, he didn't like to fuss about his own personal woes. With a heavy heart, he let us know one Monday morning that his daughter had passed away. He invited me to join his family for the memorial service in his home. I felt a little out of place in such an intimate setting of shared grief, especially since I had never met his daughter, but I was incredibly honored to be included. 

We spoke about death and divine judgement from time to time. Stan said his dad told him when he was young that he would one day have to answer to God for everything he had ever done. He didn't elaborate, but he indicated that he had sinned against a holy God on more than one occasion. He found the thought of substitutionary atonement, Jesus dying in our place, repugnant. “Each person should answer for his own sins,” is what he would say. Like most people, Stan hoped his good would outweigh the bad. 

Stan had missed a few Mondays, so I stopped by his house to check in on him. We sat in his study, surrounded by trinkets and family photos, as he told me he hadn't been feeling too good. His doctor had found a spot on his liver that they were concerned about. He brushed it off as if it was no big deal, but I could see he was worried. He once told me that he didn't believe in resurrection. There were also moments when his no-nonsense, tough exterior gave way to brief and honest confessions of his fears about dying. But he didn’t linger there. He showed me some old pictures of the B-25 he flew in during the war. He was a turret gunner if I remember correctly. He would really come to life as he shared stories and photos from his time in the service. I asked if I could pray for him (in Jesus' name, as he knew was my custom) before I left that evening. He gave me permission, so I asked God for healing and that Stan's test results would be favorable. That was the last time I saw Stan. 

I dropped by his house a few weeks later, and his wife greeted me at the door. I asked for Stan and was shocked as she informed me that he had passed away suddenly. The spot turned out to be an aggressive cancer that took him days after it was discovered. She apologized for not inviting me to his funeral (she didn’t have my contact information). I felt the weight of routinely carrying on my life the last few weeks, unaware of my friend's passing. I also felt unavoidable regret that I had just casually asked his grieving widow where he was (forcing her to fill me in on Stan's fate). I wish he told me how near he was to the end. I wish we had finished John's Gospel together. I wish that God had healed him and we had more time. I wish I could have said a better goodbye. I wish there was a better end to Stan's story. 

I believe the Spirit of God was drawing him to Jesus, but I will not presume to know the inner workings of Stan's heart. I will not ascribe to him more than he himself disclosed. God seems to honor and sustain our ability to choose, and Stan never indicated that his opinion of Jesus had changed. I still believe God has purpose in seemingly mundane interactions, and it's cathartic for me to write about Stan (Some three years after his passing). I search for meaning in regard to my time with him. I can find no meaning, however, beyond this: Stan was my friend, and death took him. Jesus came to rescue and restore. He is the only Physician—the only Cure—that can effectively treat the fatal illness afflicting us all. 

And we don’t have half as much time to get the word out as we pretend.

How to More Than Just Survive the Zombie Apocalypse

My wife and I have kinda been binge-watching a zombie show the last few weeks. After we get the kids to bed, we're like two codependent junkies. “Just one more episode,” has become our notorious last line. The story is driven by a group of average people who find themselves in the midst of a global zombie outbreak. Their old lives are only a distant memory, as they are now preoccupied with the more pressing and all-consuming task of staying alive. In many cases the individual members of the group have nothing in common beyond their catastrophic circumstances, but they are firmly unified and mobilized by their shared objective. They must work through their differences, forgive, and resolve their conflicts because their weightier task compels them to band together. Their marital conflicts, parental teaching moments, and occasional leisure times and impromptu celebrations must happen in community and on the go, while scavenging for supplies, defending each other against the undead, strategizing, and constantly moving forward. Throughout their extraordinary ordeal they inevitably become family. Those of us who have succumbed to the gospel are similarly caught up into something far bigger than ourselves (and there really is no way to smoothly transition from zombies to the gospel). Our entire outlook should be completely shifted. According to Scripture, we live in a world filled with the walking dead, but we’ve also been entrusted with the Cure for the zombie apocalypse. 

Most Christians are familiar with Jesus’ Great Commission (recorded in Matthew chapter 28). There is some discussion among Greek scholars as to whether Jesus is commanding his disciples to “go” or if he is just assuming that they will be going (something like “as you go...”). I am unqualified to settle this linguistic debate, but it seems irrelevant to me if in either case Jesus is expecting forward movement. What comes after is, I think, very clear (and only a heart of disobedience could muddy it). We are told to “make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything [Jesus has] commanded [us].” Thankfully Jesus promises to be “with [us] always” in this endeavor. Far from mere survival or escapism (like in the zombie show), we are given a triumphant and redemptive kingdom task. We are charged with declaring and demonstrating the victory and boundless jurisdiction of our liberating King—who is waking the dead to life—and his coming kingdom. The urgency and the centrality of the mission are similar to that of the folks in the zombie saga, but the rewards and dangers are infinitely greater. 

As followers of Christ, we are not to be consumed (totally fits with the zombie theme) by the cares of the world. We are instead to be captivated by his better kingdom and driven by his heartbeat to seek and save the lost. Like the folks in the zombie show, we find ourselves in extraordinary circumstances. We must recognize the dangers of being complacent or unengaged. “The time is short,” says the Apostle Paul. “From now on those who have wives should live as if they do not; those who mourn, as if they did not; those who are happy, as if they were not; those who buy something, as if it were not theirs to keep; those who use the things of the world, as if not engrossed in them. For this world in its present form is passing away.” (1 Corinthians 7:29b-31). Likewise, Jesus explained to his would-be followers, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26). Are Jesus and Paul telling us to neglect and/or despise our families, to just suck it up when we’re grieving, and to never celebrate or smile in the good times? Clearly they are not. Elsewhere Jesus famously commands us to love even our enemies, and Paul says that husbands should love their wives as “Christ loved the church” and warns that Christian men who fail to provide for their family are “worse than unbelievers” (Ephesians 5:25 and 1 Timothy 5:8). Jesus also wept with those experiencing grief and celebrated with those who were rejoicing. It seems then that Jesus and Paul are describing a devotion to Christ and his kingdom that supersedes all other relationships and obligations, a kingdom perspective that causes us to hold loosely to our physical possessions and personal safety. Jesus warns, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). Our families, jobs, finances, and leisure time can be huge blessings and potential assets on the journey, but they are not to become distractions or idols that draw our hearts away from the mission. 

It's so easy for our schedules to become filled up with school activities, soccer practice, work deadlines, hobbies and leisure (this is coming from a guy who just confessed to binge-watching a television show). Our hopes and dreams start revolving around our upcoming family vacation, a new car, promotion at work, a sport’s season, or retirement. With our short-sighted vision, our prayers also become limited to requests for parking spaces when we're running late, escape from suffering and illness, clarity from God regarding which new house he wants us to buy (and that he'd give us a great deal), and a miraculous transfer to another division for our hard-to-get-along-with supervisor or coworker. How silly (not to mention dangerous) it would be for the zombie show’s survivalists to go about their lives as if nothing had changed, to pretend that they weren’t surrounded by immense death and decay. 

I think our intentions are good. In many cases, we just don't know any other way. We tragically may not even know what we said “yes” to when we decided to follow Jesus. Several of us responded to another gospel—the popular Americanized gospel of personal salvation, isolation, and eventual extraction—instead of the gospel of the kingdom of God that Jesus and his apostles preached. The latter gospel, the true gospel, is a bigger story that doesn't end after we say “the prayer.” It's a story of rescue and restoration, in which we not only become recipients but also participants in his ambitious redemptive plan for our neighborhood, our city, and the world. It’s about Light heroically crashing into a dark world, transforming once-agents of darkness into his light-bearers, and commissioning them to spread out and shine in every dark corner. It's an extraordinary story that requires the presence and power of the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead. There are important rights and responsibilities that accompany our kingdom citizenship. The Holy Spirit was not given to us merely so we would have a supernatural leg-up while investing in all the same mundane things that our not-yet-believing friends, family, neighbors, and coworkers are pursuing. “Something is wrong,” says Francis Chan, “when our lives make sense to unbelievers” (Crazy Love). 

It's not that we will no longer be participating in any of these things. We still need to work, raise our kids, and buy stuff. Rest and leisure are also useful blessings from God. But these ordinary rhythms of life have the potential to be dramatically transformed when our vision aligns with his. The Holy Spirit will begin to organize our time and resources in a way that promotes his agenda and not ours (After all, we’ve died to ourselves, right?). We’ll start seeing great opportunities to make room at our dinner tables and to open up our homes to those who are presently far off (holidays, birthdays, and various other celebrations become natural occasions for this to happen). We will notice how we can actively bless our kids’ classmates and their classmates’ families, teachers, and coaches by serving and inviting. In God's story, there is a “good infection” (to borrow C.S. Lewis' term)–the Cure—that can be transmitted in close proximity from the living to the dead. We may begin to view ourselves as “disciple-makers” who work for FedEx, “priests” who are also dental hygienists, “ministers of reconciliation” who tent-make as contract lawyers, and “ambassadors” of his better kingdom who are assigned to teach kindergartners. Once we've caught his vision, there's no going back. Our aspirations, prayers, priorities, hopes and dreams will quickly and organically start reflecting our changed hearts. 

The 1st Century followers of Christ seemed to understand what they were saying “yes” to. They certainly weren't perfect. The Holy Spirit had his metaphorical hands full dealing with their deeply entrenched prejudices, legalism, bad theology, and immorality (pretty much the same stuff he's still working with the Church on today). But they seemed to have caught the vision of God's kingdom and Jesus' radical agenda. Ordinary and unnamed followers of Christ, tent makers, merchants, tanners, soldiers, slaves, and business owners banded together to carry the good news of God's kingdom to the ends of the earth. The ground they covered, the obstacles they overcame, is nothing short of miraculous and a testament to the Spirit-led life. Aquila and Priscilla were among many Jewish Christians who were expelled from Rome by an unjust edict. They lost their home and business and became wandering refugees. But they didn't let these setbacks stop them. They didn't lose sight of their calling. They continued to share the good news in everyday life as they rebuilt in Corinth. We're told in Acts how they partnered with Paul and opened up their home for ministry. And they didn't get too comfortable. We read how they packed their life up and moved on again when an opportunity to serve with Paul in Ephesus presented itself. An anonymous multitude of transformed Christ-followers stubbornly stayed the course amidst extreme persecution. They gave generously and recklessly out of their poverty. They practiced lavish hospitality both to their spiritual family and to outsiders. They were clearly not living for anything this world had to offer. Their prayers were not for comfort or safety but for boldness to preach the gospel, for courage to suffer well, and for power to take more ground. As a result, they “turned the world upside down” (Acts 17:6). 

I know there are times when we feel like we're barely surviving. We may feel the zombie hordes pressing in on all sides. The weight of living in a dark world, of “fighting the good fight,” can seem overwhelming. Our own fears and failings can be crippling. But this is not the time to abandon the mission. Something has gone horribly wrong when the living start envying the dead. In these times we must press in even more to Jesus, and rally with the church. We must remind ourselves that our inheritance is not of this world. “Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead,” says Jesus (Matthew 8:22). The concerns of the living should be drastically different from the concerns and preoccupations of the dead. 

This is what I want for my family, my church, and my neighborhood. I want to live this paradoxical life-abundant in community through service to others and death to self. As Jesus said, it is only when we give our life up that we truly live. Ironically, it is in “wartime living,” when we are giving of our time and resources sacrificially, that the celebrations become sweeter, the bonds of friendship deeper, and the victories more meaningful. I have what I think is a healthy fear of slipping into apathy, so I beg my fellow Christ-followers to keep me on track when I lose the vision, when I settle for the things of the world. We need each other. I also want to partner with my spiritual family members who are urgently seeking the kingdom of God among the unreached and unengaged in cross-cultural contexts around the world, and I want to see our interconnectedness as we labor together toward the same end. I know that I could hunker down, wait for the return of Christ, and live an empty life full of common things. But I will have missed out on the adventure of a lifetime. It's the one who seeks to save their life, explains Jesus, who loses it in the end. Those who have yet to meet Jesus are still dead in their sins and stumbling around aimlessly, pursuing their destructive and insatiable appetites for lesser things (my last zombie reference, I promise). How confusing it must be to them when our lives resemble theirs. I don't want to work the kingdom into my busy life; I want to let Jesus build my life around his kingdom agenda.

“…let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith” (from Hebrews 12:1 and 2).

 

   

Shadow of Doubt

 

I’m a natural born skeptic. Those who know me can confirm that cynicism runs through my veins. “If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is,” and all that. It’s to God’s credit, however, that he can effectively transform a very selfish person into a servant of others, a violent person into a gentle soul, a greedy materialist into a philanthropist, or even a confirmed skeptic into a believer. After all, it’s in our weaknesses that his power is made perfect. And so we become his trophies, monuments to his ability to overcome any barrier that the human heart can erect. As a believer, I still regularly wrestle with doubt, and it’s this internal and near constant struggle that has largely come to define me.

C.S. Lewis describes faith as “the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods” (Mere Christianity). I’ve noticed that my doubt is often tied to my emotional state. This was hard for me to accept at first because I consider myself a very rational person. It’s humbling—yet extremely helpful—to know that my critical faculties can be so easily influenced by my fleeting brain chemistry. I’m frailer than I first imagined.

It seems that belief to a certain extent is a matter of choice. Hear me out, as I’m not suggesting that one could choose to believe against one’s better judgement that, for example, the moon is in fact made of cheese or that the tooth fairy is actually open for business and ready to trade with the children of the world. Regardless of the incentives, I simply cannot believe these things. However, we regularly make choices about how we will process/file/believe the numerous evidences that our world offers. Confirmation bias—the human tendency to seek out evidences for that which we already believe to be true—is present in atheists, believers, and everyone in between. Otherwise reasonable people will regularly choose to believe any number of outlandish things regarding vaccines, conspiracy theories, political candidates, etc. despite the ample existence of compelling contrary data. The resulting cognitive dissonance is more obvious in some than others, but I would put forth that none of us is completely immune to this human phenomena.

I’m not suggesting that truth is relative, only that our ability to arrive at truth is very much related to our subjective perceptions and emotions. We must be aware of the intellectual pitfalls common to the human experience if we’re to steer clear of them in our journey toward truth. It’s ultimately an unwavering love of truth that allows one to reject fiction, regardless of how emotionally entrenched it may be.

The broad strokes of the biblical narrative are widely known within Western culture: An all-powerful, timeless, and good being makes humanity in his image and places them in a beautiful and vast universe as his administrators. Humanity quickly rebels and condemns the universe to death and decay. The merciful creator then interacts with fallen humanity through human messengers to reveal his heart for reconciliation and to promise a rescuer. At long last, the creator miraculously comes as a human to bring the good news of God reclaiming his rebel world. He accomplishes this by living a perfect life, dying an excruciating death at the hands of his creation, and rising from death victorious. This divine human claims to have power over life and death and offers pardons and adoption to all rebels who acknowledge him as king. Before ascending to another dimension, he instructs his followers to go tell the rest of the world about the good news of his kingdom. He promises to one day return, eradicate evil, raise the dead, and punish his enemies. Along the way there’s water turned to wine, pillars of fire, invisible supernatural beings for and against the creator, a guy who gets swallowed by a giant fish and lives to tell about it, and a one-time talking donkey.

I don’t think we should pretend that the story isn’t odd, that it isn’t at first hard to believe. An extraordinary claim of this scope and magnitude must reasonably come with proportionately compelling evidence that it’s true if anyone is expected to believe it. Oddly enough, though, it’s the strangeness of the story at times that causes it to smack of authenticity (strangeness alone, of course, couldn’t be the sole criterion for determining the truth of something). The human authors of Scripture don’t seem to be overly concerned with the strangeness of their testimony. They often recount things that would’ve been more easily accepted had they omitted certain details or slightly altered things to be more palatable to the hearer (such as their ancestors' and their own personal failings, less than ideal witnesses of key events, etc.). The fact that they didn’t, however, is one small marker for me on the road to accepting their credibility. I believe Lewis in Mere Christianity discusses how we could easily in a short time manufacture from our own minds a simple religion which could quickly be understood if that’s what we set out to do. Real things, however, aren’t always how we would’ve first thought them to be and often have a complexity, a strangeness even, that naturally requires time and effort to comprehend.

Ancient mythology, animistic religions, and such have their obvious earthly antecedents. The Greek pantheon, for example, is clearly made up of humans like us, what we think we might want to be, only magnified times ten, ultimately more passionate, petty, and insecure than any single human and with greater propensity and capacity to pursue the basest of human desires for an indefinite period of time. The God of the Bible, on the other hand, isn’t what we could’ve imagined. He is clearly not what we would have imagined. His counterintuitive thinking seems to even confound his prophets, who sometimes must reluctantly convey his strange messages only at his emphatic insistence. His revealed triune nature alone is enough to make your head spin, but it points to a truth about an allegedly transcendent being that is both confounding and confirming. I’ve heard it rightly said that the deity described in Islam, for example, couldn’t be accurately called “loving” apart from the existence of something or someone else. There must logically be an object of affection, something besides the lover, for love to exist. The most that could be said for Allah (along with numerous other deities) then, before he allegedly created the universe, is that he had the potential to be loving. His very nature is philosophically contingent on his creation (the Greeks were at least more up front about this facet of their gods’ reliance on humanity). Do not misunderstand my noting of this ontological difference as a petty expression of “my deity can beat up your deity.” I don’t think in those terms. My aim is always to follow truth wherever it leads. It’s the God of the Bible, who uniquely is said to exist as a harmonious community—Father, Son, and Spirit—unto himself, who alone could truly be complete and loving without the necessary existence of anything beside himself. He’s not merely us magnified (after all, we’re said to be made in his image and not the other way around); His divine personhood is logically more sophisticated than our own. That an infinite being, who is more of a person than you or I, possessing hyper-personhood, would exist in this complexity is both impossible to have figured and yet obvious once it is revealed to us. The way he wields infinite power is also like nothing a human could have thought up. His clever and startling solution for reclaiming and restoring his rebel world is at the same time elegant and horrific, the product of a moral genius who has yet to encounter a truly no-win scenario and who fully demonstrates the necessary fortitude required to bleed out his costly and innovative rescue plan.

If we’re entertaining the idea of a transcendent being that’s capable of architecting the universe from nothing, then we immediately realize that he will have to initiate any potential interaction between us if it’s to occur. This is where divine revelation comes in (most frequently delivered to/through human messengers). Truth be told, I thoroughly dislike the method this infinite being primarily chooses to communicate with his finite creation. No doubt, he has his reasons. Still I would much rather have my own earth-shattering vision of God seated on his throne then have to experience it vicariously through the prophet Isaiah’s alleged encounter. And I’d have preferred to see Jesus, with my own eyes, raise Lazarus from the grave then have to merely read the testimony of those who did. Thomas’ famous need to confirm an outrageous claim with his own senses really resonates with me. I’m not saying that God refuses to speak to most of us directly. I’ve had some personal and what I think are remarkable encounters with him. But I cannot through these personal encounters know what the first humans were like when the world was young, surmise what went wrong, and piece together what he’s even now doing to correct things. Like it or not, I must look to the authors of Scripture, who were said to be “carried along by the Holy Spirit,” for the larger narrative (2 Peter 1:21, 2 Timothy 3:16). As it turns out, God did not think it necessary to consult me on how I would like to be contacted. And it does no good to go on endlessly about how we wish things were. We must instead consider things as they are. I think it would be truly unfortunate if someone refused to examine an important message simply because they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, accept the way in which it was delivered (especially since God is said to intentionally use seemingly “foolish” and “lowly” things to accomplish his objectives – 1 Corinthians 1:27-29).

The Biblical story of a Syrian commander named Naaman comes to mind (2 Kings 5). His initial snobbery toward divine revelation almost cost him a miraculous healing, not to mention a life-changing encounter with a living God. Naaman had heard about the powerful God of Israel and had sought out his prophet Elisha with the hopes of being healed of his untreatable and degenerative, flesh-eating disease. While Naaman was still on the way, Elisha sent his servant to instruct the commander to bathe seven times in the, apparently unappealing, Jordan River. Naaman was indignant. He was expecting Elisha to “stand before him” (instead he would receive the revelation from the messenger of the messenger—twice removed from the divine source), “call on the name of the LORD,” and “wave his hand” (God was not offering anything so flashy). Furthermore, the proud commander could think of several “superior” bodies of water back home from which his rescue could just as easily come. It was Naaman’s own servant who finally exposed his master’s prejudice and convinced him to not discount the revelation of God simply because it was not the message or method he was anticipating. Had Naaman not considered and acted on the revelation given to him by God through the prophet Elisha, had he left in search of a “better” revelation, one more palatable to his preconceptions, he would’ve eventually succumbed to his flesh-eating illness. Had Naaman thought that washing in a river would be a good idea, only a different river other than the humble Jordan, then he would have died just the same (the river of course had no intrinsic healing properties, but, by the will of God, it became a conduit of his grace). Had he consented to wash but insisted that he would only wash six and not seven times as God had clearly instructed, his terminal disease would have continued its work. Naaman’s rescue was contingent on his willingness to accept divine revelation on the Revealer’s terms. I have come to realize, though I may have in my mind what I think would be a better way for God to have revealed himself to humanity, or to me in particular, this is not itself a good enough reason to outright reject the method he has allegedly employed (humble as the method may be).

There are numerous internal and external indicators that point to the human authors of Scripture being credible eyewitnesses. The existence of many of the places, people, and events, for example, can be confirmed by ancient historians and modern archeology (with additional corroborating data unearthed all the time). The multiple instances of fulfilled prophecy point to an unearthly vantage point that can’t easily be ignored. However, my skepticism compels me to take seriously every reasonable case against the supposed witnesses (accusations that the story was compiled/constructed generations after the events mentioned by unknown authors with unknown agendas, innocent corruption of core parts of the story due to early oral transmission, and so on). Even prominent critics of the Bible acknowledge the authenticity of many of Paul’s 1st Century letters (several external historical documents make this case). In Paul’s 1st letter to the infant church in Corinth, which was written in the mid-50s AD (Paul was executed by Nero sometime before the emperor’s suicide in 68 AD), he perfectly and succinctly recounted the gospel story’s key events, referring to these events as being of “first importance.” Likewise, Luke the physician wrote his gospel and sequel, the Acts of the Apostles, based on eyewitness testimony and almost certainly before Paul’s death (Acts, which heavily features the life of Paul, concludes with Paul’s eventual fate yet to be determined). John, knowing the extraordinary nature of his testimony, emphatically reassured his readers that he had “heard,” “seen,” and “touched” this “Word of Life” that has now consumed him. One might question whether the author of John’s gospel actually saw water turned to wine or shared a meal with a once-crucified Galilean, but one can be reasonably certain that the author had firsthand knowledge of an early 1st Century Jerusalem (significant due to the city’s decimation shortly after in 70 AD during the Jewish-Roman Wars), including the layout of the city, and specific structures like the now-excavated pool of Bethesda (described in John chapter 5), as well as local politics and personalities. Several other examples exist, but this post isn’t meant to be a comprehensive argument for the reliability of Scripture. I can choose to disbelieve their testimony, but I must admit that their odd story seems to have remained consistent since the beginning, even in the face of torture and death.

Few things that we now know were established by way of our firsthand experience. I have never been to Australia or the moon, for example, but I have no trouble believing that they are real places. The facts surrounding Australia, the moon, and millions of other things, have been firmly settled in my mind on the basis of credible authority. Our task then is to determine what sources of information are credible, reliable, and trustworthy. If we will not receive truth on the basis of credible authority, then we must resign ourselves to never knowing very much about anything. This necessary expression of faith is an unavoidable and unpleasant reality for a skeptic like me. But it is said that God's own Spirit is ready and willing to help any of us—those who are humble enough to ask—sort all of this out.

I hope the reader doesn't conclude that one can from the safety of their armchair simply analyze their way into communion with God. At some point we must conclude our reasonable deliberation and actually decide whether or not we will get into the water. Jesus tells a story about two sons who are asked to work in their father's vineyard (Matthew 21). The first son initially refuses, but then later reconsiders and eventually obeys his father's instruction. While the second son quickly and emphatically agrees he will go, but then never makes it. The sort of belief that God is after is not the talking kind. I think he takes great pleasure in the one who, despite uncertainty, finds themselves waist deep in the Jordan, half way through their seventh consecutive bath. After all, he invites us to “taste and see” for ourselves (Psalm 34:8).

I’ll admit to not having everything resolved to my complete satisfaction (or even anywhere close). This is a post about doubt, after all. My unrelenting skepticism ultimately compels me to keep searching for answers. There are several passages in Scripture that I’ve wrestled with for years, some that I’ll probably never fully understand. But I can attest that God has shown himself to be true and trustworthy in certain significant instances, so much so that I sometimes find myself extending great leeway to him in other areas that confuse or concern me. This is, I think, the essence of faith.

The Word of God became flesh and lived among us.

A somewhat nondescript, homeless, Middle Eastern man from 1st Century Nazareth is said to be God’s greatest revelation to humanity, the clearest picture of who he is and what he’s up to. Attempt, if you can, to temporarily bypass the cultural familiarity and preconceptions you have regarding this now well-known character (complete with his pale skin, flowing hair, and red sash). That this man, of all people, is the “Son of God” is nothing short of scandalous, and we should not so quickly overlook the oddness of his bizarre claim. If one was ever going to be put off by the humble packaging of a divine revelation, this would probably be the time. But ordinary as he may seem, this divine man resembles the first humans in his untarnished perfection while at the same time pointing forward to a restored humanity, and a seamless reunification of heaven and earth, which he is ushering in. The story of God can only be understood in its entirety when viewed through the lens of this person Jesus. He is a better Adam, a better Israel, a better temple, a better high priest, and a better sacrifice—truly “the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End” (Revelation 22:13).

What would the perfect human being, God’s image bearer as he intended, be like? Said another way: What would happen if the Creator gave us a living breathing commentary on humanity (addressing both what we are and what we could be) and simultaneous revelation of himself by becoming one of his creatures and walking among us? I find the Bible’s answer to this intriguing question extremely compelling. There are a few things we could guess without knowing anymore of the story. If humanity is as broken, as out of step with God, as the previous prophets let on, then we’d expect that God’s commentary on humanity would not be entirely welcomed by his wayward creatures (to say the least). In fact, this perfect human would be so out of step with everyone else that he’d almost certainly be met with unequaled hostility. His very presence would threaten to expose cherished fantasies as the fiction that they are. Those who thought humanity was mostly fine, that they themselves were mostly fine, would undoubtedly be his greatest adversaries. While those who miraculously agreed with this perfect human’s estimation of things would be drawn to the revealed God who compassionately and humbly came to help.

The extraordinary evidence we have been waiting for, that we reasonably need to corroborate the spectacular story of God, comes chiefly with the physical resurrection of Jesus. A man who publicly predicted his own death and subsequent resurrection, was subjected to arguably the most excruciating and humiliatingly public death imaginable, and ultimately was seen publicly by hundreds after he stepped out of his borrowed grave. These remarkable events did not take place “in a corner” (Acts 26:26); they were a matter of public record and became common knowledge (rippling out from Jerusalem and quickly buzzing in every province of the known world). The amazed witnesses went forth in the power of God’s Spirit and “turned the world upside down” with their simple testimony (Acts 17:6). They freely gave their possessions to those in need, cared for the poor and marginalized, and willingly surrendered their bodies to be brutalized and destroyed, singing as their murderers sadistically tried in vain to extinguish their light. Hundreds quickly became thousands and then millions. As a skeptic, I of course realize that rapid growth and a willingness to be martyred do not alone prove the validity of the story. However, these powerful indicators, taken along with numerous other sign posts (some of which were mentioned), are difficult to ignore. In light of this compelling information, I would agree with Paul that our otherwise bizarre behavior as Christ-followers is more than “reasonable” given the extraordinary circumstances (Acts 26:26).

Most days I believe the whole story. Some days I am overcome by the oddness of it all, and I can hardly believe any of it (even questioning my own unexplainable encounters with him). I have experienced both the crushing weight of doubt and the ecstasy of having that unbearable weight miraculously lifted off my shoulders by a patient Savior who never stops rescuing me. I often repeat the plea of a desperate father who famously cried out to Jesus, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24b). I feel a kinship with John the Baptist, who was appointed to be the Messiah’s herald even though he would later express uncertainty about Jesus’ identity. I also appreciate that Matthew records how even among the eleven, and on their way to hear their resurrected Lord deliver the Great Commission no less, “some doubted” (Matthew 28:17). In my most lucid moments, I recognize that he is more real than I am—that he is more alive than I am—and I even sometimes chuckle at the absurdity of someone who has only existed for 35 years questioning the existence of someone who has always been. He is the dreamer, and we are merely his dream. He is the source of life—He is LIFE: “For in him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).

So count me among the “fools” who will bathe in the muddy Jordan, give up our lives in order to truly live, pursue an invisible kingdom, and hope in a 1st Century homeless guy who claimed to be “the resurrection and the life.”

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).

Beatitudes (Remixed)

"Blessed are the strong, for they will be respected by their adversaries, both foreign and domestic. Blessed are those who passionately defend their right to bear arms, for they will rest secure. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for safety, for they will be filled with prosperity. Blessed are the pure (excluding fornication, adultery, pornography, and divorce, of course), for they will overcome cultural perversion. Blessed are the politically powerful, for they will avoid the inconvenience of going the extra mile. Blessed are those who seek first the American Dream, for they will see it come to pass."

-Said Jesus never
 
(Check out Matthew 5 for what he actually said. Turns out it's a little different)

Colorblind

 

Many people believe that racial tensions would quickly subside in our country if we simply stopped noting and talking about our differences. Apparently it's thought that recognizing and discussing our distinctions inevitably creates a negative “us” and “them” mentality which leads to fear, conflict, and exploitation. We frequently embrace this ideology when we say, “I don’t really notice skin color,” or “I don’t have ‘black/white/Asian friends’—only ‘friends.’” It's true that, biologically speaking, there’s only one race—the human race. So couldn’t we all just agree to be colorblind? While this popular approach to race is well intentioned, it tragically misdiagnoses the true source of the tension. What's more, it completely disregards God's purpose and pleasure in our human distinctions. As such, it is counterproductive for the people of God, the church, to be “colorblind.”

Even though race is best understood as a subjective cultural construct and not a biological fact, it still remains a powerful and present feature of the human experience (especially for minorities). Race and ethnicity unite us to shared stories, songs, hopes, fears, and cultural values. Rightly or wrongly humans index and cross reference all this information in order to understand ourselves and make sense of the world.

The notion that we can eliminate strife by ignoring or extinguishing our differences is certainly not new. Many sociopolitical movements seeking to address various societal injustices have been built precisely on this flawed approach. Whether we are seeking to eradicate gender distinctions or signs of economic disparities by embracing uniformed clothing, language, etc. we are in the end failing to address the real issue. Jesus points out the flaw and backwardness of this superficial approach to managing sin when he explains to the Pharisees that they have done a bang-up job on the exterior but inside they're as corrupted as they've ever been, maybe even more so (Luke 11:39). It is our universal brokenness, our rejection of God and his goodness, that prompts us to fear, hate, envy, and seek to exploit each other's God-given differences. Therefore, misidentifying our differences as the source of our interpersonal and societal tension simply allows the real cancer to persist unnoticed.

Uniformity must not be confused with unity, and unity is what we're after if our goal is to be the sort of church that Jesus prayed for (John 17:20-21). In fact, diversity is a necessary component in order for unity to even exist. We can't very well boast about how great we all get along, for example, if we're all exactly alike. There must be the potential for fear, conflict, and exploitation if unity and grace are to emerge triumphant.

Paul's sentiment, “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” is sometimes used to advocate for an extinguishing of gender, race/ethnicity, etc. within the church (Galatians 3:28). But this simply can't be what he is describing. Paul writes extensively about gender and ethnicity elsewhere in his epistles. As a cross-cultural minister of the Gospel, one of Paul's greatest contributions to Jesus' infant church stemmed from his heart for the full inclusion of the once-marginalized, non-Jewish Christ-followers. He was also keenly aware of his own ethnicity as a Jewish man, as was Jesus. Our ethnicity, class, and gender—all of our human distinctions—are certainly superseded by our identity in Christ, as the Galatians passage points out, but are never erased or rendered meaningless. 
 

Americans, including American Christians, are largely racially illiterate (perhaps due to our “colorblindness”). Yet Americans, including American Christians, are frequently among the most racially opinionated folks. In lieu of firsthand information, we tend to form our deeply held perspectives about race within our own racial/ethnic groups based on our own limited outsider observations (after all, it's “rude” to discuss such things in public or in mixed company). The truth is, humans can never really be colorblind. We weren't meant to be.

 

Our human distinctions are by God's express design. His fondness for variety can be seen in every crevice of his vast and varied universe. He has created human beings in his image, male and female, with a near infinite range and endless potential for combinations of skin tones, textures, body frames and forms. Denying that it is so is a heresy of sorts, a rebellion against his clear intentions. Let us instead, like him, delight in his beautiful and vibrant creation. After all, his endgame involves a multiethnic, multicultural, multilingual, family of God, worshipping together in glorious harmony (Revelation 7:9-10).
 

By the grace of God, transformed, kingdom-centric people are capable of recognizing and appreciating their own human distinctions without being threatened, envious, demeaning or domineering of others. We can also engage other image-bearers from every people group, color, and creed with a Spirit-filled curiosity and admiration. It is ultimately the people of God who have been uniquely equipped through the redemptive ministry of Jesus to be ministers of reconciliation. If not us, then who? True and abiding racial reconciliation will only take place in our culture when we, the church, embrace and passionately pursue our God-given role. Let's not be afraid to press into socially awkward and taboo conversations about race within a racially diverse body of Christ. Let's become good at asking questions and great at listening. We have much to learn about ourselves, our brothers and sisters, and our Creator (since we collectively bear his image) as we compassionately explore our human distinctions rather than shying away from them. I've received many scriptural insights from brothers and sisters of color, for example, things only they could illuminate to me, aspects of the heart of God that were previously unseen to my colorblind eyes. There are pains that I can only feel—if I am willing to feel—vicariously through a brother or sister's tears. There are songs now unknown to me. There is beauty that I can only see through borrowed eyes. There are many ways in which we will never be the same, and yet, through the miraculous power of the Gospel, we are made “one.” What a disservice we do to ourselves, Jesus' church, and the clearly articulated heart of God when we instead adopt the majority culture's colorblindness.

 

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” -Romans 12:2