What the Church might yet learn from Billy Graham

I must confess I struggle to know what the term Evangelical means anymore. I know that in the Greek, it originally meant good news or gospel. While I find that to be the most clarifying sense of the word, for over many years now it seems to have also taken on nuances of historical nostalgia, political influence, and attitudes similar to those who might pursue and preserve power. It’s a word whose many connotations I find difficult to fully comprehend. It has a lot of baggage with it that has burdened its original intention to convey God’s good news. For that reason, I rarely use it or readily identify with it.

This morning I woke up to the news that the Reverend Billy Graham had passed into God’s good presence. I know of Billy Graham the same as what everybody knows, that he was a preacher of Jesus Christ. While I wish I knew more about him, when it comes down to it, that is what he essentially was. A man who devoted his life to travelling from city to city, state to state, country to country preaching the good news about Jesus. In a culture that frequently esteems complexity and nuance, it’s amazing to think a man of such simplicity impacted the world so greatly.

In a sense, that simple essence helps remind and clarify what it might mean to be evangelical. A person whose life reveals God’s good news.

Reverend Graham’s passing comes at a time in our history where so much of the country is embroiled in a chaotic divisiveness of which the Church is very much a part. What role the Church goes on to play amidst this chaos will greatly depend on whose rule or kingdom we are seeking.

In Reverend Graham’s death and our looking back at the simple essence he was about, maybe the Church can be reminded that our essence is not about leveraging power to progress an agenda, but to be those whose lives really convey God’s good news.

My Dad once told me a story that when Richard Nixon received the presidential nomination at the Republican convention, he invited friend Billy Graham to a backroom with other friends and politicians where there would likely be smoking, drinking, cussing, political discourse. Ruth Graham, however, pulled Billy aside and said, “That’s no place for the man of God.”

Our place is to make much of Jesus and embody his way of living that conveys the uniqueness of God’s good news. It is a mission for which Reverend Graham labored long; now that his labors are over, his labors are now ours. As we take them up, let us be careful to leave the baggage behind. May we take up his labor of love in such a way that conveys news that is truly good.


Why the resurrection will make marriage unnecessary

Our congregation has been recently exploring what the New Earth could be like; the discussions have been interesting. Our topic this past Sunday focused on if we will be married. The subject becomes front and center in Matthew 22 when the Sadducees challenge Jesus with an absurd hypothetical: “In the resurrection, then, whose wife of the seven [husbands she married] will she be?”

Jesus responded “You are wrong, because you know neither the scriptures nor the power of God. For in the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven.”

Scripture has a lot to say about marriage: how we’re designed for relationship, God’s purposes for marriage, how holiness is to characterize marriage, how we are to treat our spouses. So after all the page-space and historical emphasis Scripture invests into marriage, why does marriage now get so easily discarded in the resurrection? A legitimate question to be sure.

Perhaps a more instructive question to ask, however, could be what is it about the resurrection that makes marriage unnecessary?

Jesus doesn’t explain. Since the Sadducees didn’t really believe in the resurrection, their question is a ruse he swiftly moves past. Yet the issue remains. How can all the energy, emotions, commitments, and sacrifice people have invested in their marriages be suddenly made irrelevant? We must look elsewhere in Scripture for possible answers. Thankfully, I believe Scripture provides those answers.

Ephesians is probably Paul’s most noteworthy text on resurrection living. Much of its latter half is spent explaining how the reality of the resurrection uniquely redefines our relationships and behavior. Concerning marriage, in Ephesians 5:22-33, Paul draws a significant correlation between a husband and wife’s marriage to Christ and the Church. Paul patterns the relationship dynamics between a husband and wife after Christ and the Church. Since the Church is the body of believers whose lives inhabit that of Jesus’ through his love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and continence, marriage becomes the perfect setting for such virtues to be authentically and maturely grown. In light of the reality-altering redemption Jesus’ resurrection affects, marriage is now most meaningful as a reflection of the covenant between Christ and the Church. In short, marriage potentially trains us to be the people of God. One could even call Christ-centered marriage a practicum.

If we also look carefully at Paul’s first letter to Timothy, who was then ministering at Ephesus, we can see this same idea at play. While there are several comparative examples, the clearest is probably 1 Timothy 3:5 where Paul bases a church leader’s competency on the quality of his home life. Possibly the process was learning Christian discipline from a teacher, practicing it at home with family, and continuing maturing with the assembled congregation. By learning to follow Jesus, they learn to lead their families, which subsequently teaches them to encourage and build up the larger congregation. From the teacher to the person, to the family, to the congregation, Christ is given expansive exposure and attention “until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ.”

From this perspective, the Christ-centered covenant between husband and wife is ultimately meant to move us deeper into the Christ-centered covenant with each other, his body the Church. Perhaps it is this perspective that begins to help us see why the resurrection renders marriage unnecessary, or rather, ultimately fulfills marriage. By the time of the resurrection, marriage will have played its part in nurturing the communal intimacy rooted in God’s love for us and expressed in our love for each other. Christ-centered marriage trains us to love so that when God establishes the New Earth, Christ-centered love is both new and natural.

The struggle with this topic is the dissolving of a precious bond so many people have spent so many years nurturing. It seems to make marriage meaningless. But rather than the dissolving of a precious bond, the Scriptures point to the uniting of a billion bonds more. They reveal that when “the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready”, the love which has flowed from Christ will bind us into a blessed belonging with those whom God has joined together, forever.

“You will know them by their fruits” | Matthew 7:15-20

Much of Jesus’ message in Matthew 5-7 is the establishing of God’s Kingdom ethics to guide how his disciples live. Within this “Sermon on the Mount” are designs for a form of discipleship that can easily be characterized as unique. This is important to consider for at least two reasons. One, if we are following a one-of-a-kind King, it stands to reason that our following be done in a one-of-a-kind way. But secondly, if our way of living begins to blend undistinguishably into the milieu of other ways of living, it may indicate a departure from that one-of-a-kind way has occurred.

Such a departure does not happen suddenly, but gradually. Sometimes it just happens due to a series of seasons and reasons. But other times, such departures can be induced or prompted by some form of influence.

Jesus had seen this happen amongst his own people. By his time, hypocrisy had grown prevalent amongst the teachers of the Jewish law; there was a tendency to teach one thing while doing another. This tendency essentially resulted in a culture that ran contrary to what God had already established in Scripture. Concerned this tendency also would occur within the community he was teaching his disciples to cultivate, Jesus issues them an alert: “Beware of the false prophets”.

A prophet’s role is to clarify the way of God and to embody that life in a manner that calls people to it. The false prophet completely undermines this effort. How so?

Jesus’s full statement in Matthew 7:15 is “Beware of the false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves.”

The imagery here seems to be a bit of dark humor. Humorous because the image of a wolf adorning himself in sheep’s wool in order to get close to the flock seems quite cartoonish; yet dark, considering that beneath this cartoonish façade, deceitfulness, theft, and devouring are playing out. These are figures who intend to creep in amongst Christ’s followers, assume authority of Christ’s message for their own agenda, and modify it into an alternative version than what Jesus revealed. Thus Jesus characterizes the future false prophets who will attempt to infiltrate his kingdom community.

In our day of parachurch positions combined with self-promotion, the role of prophet sometimes takes on a somewhat official capacity. While we would not expect to see anyone wearing a name tag saying false prophet, it seems in such a day such a person would appear more obvious. But that’s Jesus’ point: such people will not be so easily recognizable. Therefore, adapting to a new metaphor, Jesus continues “You will know them by their fruits.”

To clarify, Jesus illustratively says Grapes are not gathered from thorn bushes nor figs from thistles, are they? So every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot produce bad fruit, nor can a bad tree produce good fruit.”

Everyone in this agrarian culture knew sweet and energizing fruit doesn’t come from dry prickly bushes. Nature only begets its own. What is produced is determined by its nature. Nature cannot mismatch or misproduce. Nature can produce nothing besides its own. Though Jesus’ disciples would identify false prophets by recognizing their fruit’s “bad” nature, doing so required they know what “good” fruit looks like.

Throughout his sermon, Jesus’ usage of good usually refers to the Father’s goodness as framed in his teachings. By keeping to and living out the sermon’s teachings, disciples embody and project the Father’s goodness. The Father’s goodness is the nature of which the disciples are now apart through their following of Jesus. To live a life that reflects a nature different from that of the Father, as framed in the sermon’s teachings, is to disassociate oneself from his nature and his goodness, disabling oneself from producing “good fruit”.

Being able to identify possible distorting hypocrisy and predatory deceitfulness at play amongst our congregations is necessary. Ultimately, however, it’s not about an incessant haphazard heresy hunt, but taking Jesus’ warning seriously by recognizing the reality it portends. That he has called us to a type of living whose root is the Father’s unique goodness and whose fruit is the way of his Son. Since it would not be love on Jesus’ part to validate types of living that would contradict the type of living he is establishing, his words call us to be transplanted out from every alternative type of living, however preferential they might be, and implanted into the Father’s uniqueness facilitated through the Son so what is cultivated will yield a nature sweetened with God’s goodness.

Christ, the Church, and the Powers

As the time of Jesus’ state execution approached, he was engaged by agents of the scribes and chief priests. They asked him “Is it lawful for us to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” (Luke 20:22). Their question was intended to force Jesus to draw a hard line of separation between the Jews and the Roman state, a choice with both legal and popularity ramifications. Asking them for a coin and then to identify Caesar’s image on it, Jesus replied “Then render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (Luke 20:25). The answer Jesus gives makes no attempt to either completely isolate the entities from one another or to completely align their agendas.

Rather than drawing a solid line of separation between God’s people and the Roman state, he carefully crafts something of a dotted line between God and the powers that be, framing their relationship as one both taut with tension and set for the sifting of “the things that are Caesar’s” and “the things that are God’s”.

As seen in Jesus’ response, he had no intention to further elaborate here on the relationship between God and the powers. Nevertheless, the framework his words establish here raises questions: What is the precise nature of God’s relationship with the world powers? What is the church’s role within this relationship? Thankfully, the later writings of Jesus’ followers help many of these issues. This is the subject to be addressed here.

Before examining how the church should associate with the powers, however, we must first study who the powers are and what is their duty.  Then we will turn to what Christ did to the powers and how the church must live in light of his actions.


Normally when referring to the various powers, Paul discusses what Jesus has done or will do with the powers and how the church is supposed to live in light of his actions, but what did Paul specifically mean by the powers?

In Ephesians 2:1-2, Paul writes to the church about how they used to follow the “ruler of the power of the air”, an evil spirit that works in those who are disobedient.  In the following chapter he writes about how, through the church, the wisdom of God is being revealed to the “rulers [arkae] and authorities [exousia] in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 3:10).  Here Paul mentions heavenly powers such as angels and demons—beings with which people of his culture were familiar.  In fact, his was a culture that was highly interested in the supernatural as evident in Jewish apocalyptic literature.

The Pharisees, a group to which he formerly belonged, was a mainline Jewish sect that embraced a hierarchy of angels and demons.  In Matthew 12:22-24 when Jesus drove demons out of a man, the Pharisees blasphemed the Spirit by asserting that it was by demons he performed the miracle.  A belief in angels and demons would be necessary for this assertion.  In chapter 10 of Daniel a conversation occurs between Daniel and an angel who was only able to reach him because Michael, the Prince of Israel, assisted him.  The author of Jude also refers to Michael when he argued with the devil over the body of Moses.  The Book of Revelation is filled with additional examples.  So it is clear supernatural and apocalyptic terms and themes were not new to Paul’s readers.

His “powers” language, however, is not limited only to supernatural or heavenly forces.  Paul uses the same terminology elsewhere to describe earthly powers that exercise authority on earth.  In Romans 13:1-4, when he urges those in Rome to be subject to their authorities [exousia], it is the same words used to describe both earthly and heavenly rulers [arkae] and authorities [exousia].  This shows that to some degree, depending on the contexts, Paul defines the words inclusively by the same meaning.  In 1 Corinthians 2:8, he writes, “None of the rulers of this age understood this [God’s wisdom]; for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory”.  Obviously the rulers of this age are meant to be understood as the members of the Sanhedrin and the Romans who were involved in plotting and carrying out the death of Jesus.  When Paul refers to earthly powers, he is speaking about various parties with authority.

Lest we deduce these powers of heaven and earth belong to their own sphere and are unrelated to one another, there are verses in which Paul links the two.  In Ephesians 6:12, Paul specifies that our struggle is against the rulers and authorities and against the cosmic powers and spiritual forces of evil.  Our struggle is with the powers of both heaven and earth.

Paul also writes in Colossians 1:16, “For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things have been created through Him and for Him”.  Here we see that Christ has created all things, specifically the heavenly and earthly powers, for himself.  Having looked at just a few verses that deal with each category into which Paul seems to have classified the powers, we see a certain kind of commonality among both sets.  As different as they are, something unifies them.  The powers, whoever they are, were established by Christ for Christ.  So though they be of different matter, realm, or use, their shared origin is God.


The necessity of the powers’ existence, therefore, is rooted in God’s purposes for them.  Those purposes are, in a word, good.  This is demonstrated in God’s appointing of Adam as caretaker of the garden, conveying upon him an authority that was originally good and served purposes that were entirely good.  The fall, however, thrust everything that is and will be into curse and chaos.  The accounts of Cain, Lamech, and others in Genesis 6, demonstrate that chaos in very grim terms.  Therefore God established kings, tribal leaders, and others as authorities on earth, using them to curb the chaos that has infiltrated His once good creation.  Paul clarifies this in Romans 13:1-4:

Every person is to be in subjection to the governing authorities.  For there is no authority except from God, and those which exist are established by God.  Therefore whoever resists authority has opposed the ordinance of God; and they who have opposed will receive condemnation upon themselves.  For rulers are not a cause of fear for good behavior, but for evil.  Do you want to have no fear of authority?  Do what is good and you will have praise from the same; for it is a minister of God to you for good.  But if you do what is evil, be afraid; for it does not bear the sword for nothing; for it is a minister of God, an avenger who brings wrath on the one who practices evil.

From out of his sovereign authority, God has established and appointed contextually relevant authorities, delegating to them the temporary responsibility to govern, legislate, protect, and discipline in accordance with God’s sovereign will for history and civilization.  They are, in a sense, subconscious stewards, or unwitting workers of God’s sovereign will, appointed to regulate the fallen chaos that continues around us.

We still see these authorities demonstrating this regulation on a daily basis.  Leaders propose and pass laws and policies to govern their nations, national militaries stand ready to enforce those policies and protect their nations, law enforcement still police their local communities, school districts are frequently determined to provide safe education for students, employers normally do want a positive working environment for employees, and parents really do want what’s best for their children.  From the international to the local setting, God’s good will is being carried out by the established system of powers.


Despite being a system set up by God, however, it is also fallen.  And as a fallen system, it is likely, at some point, to begin working for its own interests rather than God’s.  Even though it still unsuspectingly works for God’s will, it also serves its own.

Adam and Eve’s authority over the garden came with the condition that they not eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.  When Eve took of its fruit, however, she took assuming equality with God was something to be grasped.  This self-sovereignty not only comes to define the sinner, but the attitude of the powers as well when they secede from God’s lordship.  They take the authority God has commissioned to them and they go places with it God never sanctioned, making themselves gods (Gal 4:8).  For example, when northern Israel had continuously rebelled against the LORD, he sent Assyria against them to punish them.  Assyria, however, went too far, inciting God to speak in Isaiah 10:5-7: “Woe to Assyria, the rod of My anger and the staff in whose hands is My indignation, I send it against a godless nation and commission it against the people of My fury to capture booty and to seize plunder, and to trample them down like mud in the streets.  Yet it does not so intend, nor does it plan so in its heart, but rather it is its purpose to destroy and to cut off many nations.”

Having usurped God’s authority for their own, the powers lose no time in turning God’s appointed structure into their own system with themselves as the head of state.  They also waste no time in enslaving others to their system, demanding their loyalty and allegiance.

We see throughout history how our daily lives have been dictated to us by paradigms, standards, customs, laws, and practices which stem from the system.  Every couple of years, the paradigms and standards change, coaching us on how to comply this year, like some perpetual Big Brother.  The powers also teach their subjects to reject those who reject the system they have set up.  Anyone who does not adhere to their system of rules or thought must be written off as some fanatic or revolutionary who wishes to tear apart the system of which many subjects have grown fond.

In The Politics of Jesus, the author writes “These powers have rebelled and are fallen.  They did not accept the modesty that would have permitted them to remain conformed to the creative purpose, but rather they claimed for themselves an absolute value.  They thereby enslaved man and his history.  Man is bound to them; “slavery” is in fact one of the fundamental terms used in the New Testament to describe the lost condition of man outside of Christ.  To what is man subject?  Precisely to those values and structures which are necessary to life and society, but which have claimed the status of idols and have succeeded in making men serve them as if they were of absolute value.”

We see now the good for which the powers were intended is limited by their own fallen nature and resulting actions, and are, therefore, insufficient for restoring us to the good for which God has destined us.

Is it possible to escape the system to which we have been enslaved?  Who will set us free from this systematic yoke?  Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!


Jesus’ crucifixion did exactly this, “having canceled out the certificate of debt consisting of decrees against us, which was hostile to us; and He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross. When He had disarmed the rulers and authorities, He made a public display of them, having triumphed over them through Him” (Col 2:14-15).

Christ’s death upon the cross deals not only with humanity’s slavery to the powers, but with the powers’ presumed sovereignty as well.  Throughout the ordeal of Jesus’ arrest, trial, the behind-the-scenes politics, and his crucifixion, the powers believed they were besting and silencing this rabbi, showing him up to be the revolutionary they took him for.  What they failed to see was throughout this process, Jesus was unmasking them.

Hendrick Berkhof writes “The scribes, representatives of the Jewish law, far from receiving gratefully Him who came in the name of the God of the law, crucified Him in the name of the law.  The priests, servants of His temple, crucified Him in the name of the temple.  The Pharisees, personifying piety, crucified Him in the name of piety.  Pilate, representing Roman justice and law, shows what these are worth when called upon to do justice to the Truth Himself.”

The public display Jesus made of them is seen clearly in the irony of his body hanging on the cross beneath a sign reading “THE KING OF THE JEWS”, a scene of which a representative of the Roman powers eventually commented “Truly this man was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:39).  Self-proclaimed gods on the ground beholding God on the cross.  The paradoxical picture pulls back the curtain and reveals the great powers of the world to be but fallen humans in need of the same salvation they profess to offer through their illusion of sovereign control.

The cross is not the only display Christ makes in deposing the powers.  His triumph over the powers continues in his subsequent resurrection from the dead.  His rising is the consolidation of his authority, distinguishing him as king, “far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come” (Eph 1:21).

In the turning of these spiritual and physical events, we are reminded of Jesus’ central message of the Kingdom of Heaven, and we begin to wonderfully realize his message was not metaphorical, but actual.  As his God-incarnate person, power, and proclamations set the blessed realities of heaven into the realms of earth, the means through which humanity and all reality would be restored to perfect goodness were being gradually established.  As Jesus’ ministry incrementally demonstrated how “the kingdom of heaven is at hand”, it also grows clearer that the Kingdom of Heaven is not merely an eschatological reality, but a very current one as well.  Though Christ’s kingship has already begun to subject and sum up all things in heaven and earth unto himself (Eph 1:10), the subjugation is not yet complete.

The current chaos rippling through the world is indicative of this.  The chaos and fragmentation will indeed end upon King Jesus’ return and the consolidation of his reign.  Until then, however, the world powers are authorized to maintain a semblance of order.  Though Christ has made a public display of the powers, as to their fallenness and limitations, he does not do away with them because a world that is not submissive to God must still be governed; but not without a concurrent witness to God’s ever-expanding redemptive lordship, of which Paul comments “And He put all things in subjection under His feet, and gave Him as head over all things to the church, which is His body, the fullness of Him who fills all in all” (Eph 1:22-23).

The Church is the most visible representation of God’s Kingdom on earth.  As the community of the King, the Church embodies Jesus’ righteousness and mission.  Until Jesus’ return, however, that mission must be lived concurrently alongside the powers.


In an attempt to clarify for the Church her role within this tense, nuanced relationship with the powers, the apostle Peter wrote to the Christian communities scattered throughout the Roman world.  Addressing them as aliens and strangers, he writes “Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every human institution, whether to a king as the one in authority, or to governors as sent by him for the punishment of evildoers and the praise of those who do right.  For such is the will of God that by doing right you may silence the ignorance of foolish men.  Act as free men, and do not use your freedom as a covering for evil, but use it as bondslaves of God” (1 Peter 2:13-16).

The Roman world did not really know what to make of the early church.  Their core message of the Kingdom of Heaven likely set them up to be summarily viewed and eventually treated like trouble-making anarchists.  Peter’s statement here is meant to nurture the Kingdom community whose witness counters that perception; that by submitting to the powers, the Church demonstrates it is not her intention to overthrow or pattern them after her standards.  In doing so, she might ease and earn the ears of the world so the good news her actions proclaim might be better understood.  This submission is done primarily by adhering to the laws put in place to prevent evil and promote the common good.  When the government sets a speed limit, it proclaims the Gospel when the police do not have to pull Christians over.  When the boss acts like a jerk at work and yet we do as he or she says without making their job more miserable or bashing him or her behind their back, that preaches.  When a Christian wife honors, loves, and prays for her unbelieving husband, it testifies to him of her devotion to the Lord.  When the powers observe we are submissive to them as God called us to be, God is glorified.

Having said this, however, our submissiveness to the powers is not granted as an attempt to preserve their established system, but is more akin to tolerance for God’s temporary stewards.  Peter continues “Honor all people, love the brotherhood, fear God, honor the king” (1Peter 2:17).

Observe the distinctions Peter makes in the verbs he assigns to the nouns.  Honor is what we give to people in general, for everyone deserves a starting minimum of respect.  A sacrificial life of love, however, is reserved for Christian brethren.  Fear of the LORD, that sacred awe and devotion, belongs to God alone.  And honor is also given to the powers.  This is perhaps best illustrated in Jesus’ interaction with the scribes and chief priests in Luke 20:19-25 where he muses that while the powers obsess over their pocket change worth of respect, God is taking ownership of everything else, including our lives.  Since the powers, in their role and to the best of their ability, can only limit the world’s chaos, the justice, security, and freedom they believe they provide is always limited.  A limited goodness is not a complete goodness.  For all their pomp, campaign promises, policies, and propaganda, the powers can only ever offer a minimal good.  As a people called to give witness to the God who is complete goodness, the Church’s obligations must be prioritized and directed towards that which will allow goodness to be completely realized—the reality of Christ’s redemptive Kingdom.  Therefore, the Church is to give the powers genuine respect and submissiveness, but not our allegiance.

As this tension continues to define the Church’s relationship with the powers, at least two questions can be asked; firstly, what if the powers we submit to grow hostile?  Peter may have anticipated this concern, for he continues to write “Servants, be submissive to your masters with all respect, not only to those who are good and gentle, but also to those who are unreasonable.  For this finds favor, if for the sake of conscience toward God a person bears up under sorrows when suffering unjustly.  For what credit is there if, when you sin and are harshly treated, you endure it with patience?  But if when you do what is right and suffer for it you patiently endure it, this finds favor with God” (1 Peter 2:18-20).

Regarding submissiveness, Peter doesn’t discriminate between good or bad powers, because our submissiveness is not governed by circumstances but by the command.  Whether “good and gentle”, or “unreasonable” or “harshly treated”, the circumstances are simply the conditions in which submissiveness is learned, practiced, and demonstrated, for it is in this we reveal God’s holy worth to the people and powers.  Not just submitting to the good, then resisting the evil, but submitting to both so both may witness God’s redemptive work.  Submitting to both despite the circumstances emphasizes the Church’s identity and mission revolves around the rule of King Jesus rather than whatever the circumstances might be or bring.  Should the circumstances prove hostile, they are an opportunity to please God by persevering in submission, patiently enduring the conditions in order to give witness to what is right within those conditions.  This, however, raises a subsequent question: is there ever a moment where the Church must stop submitting?

History and hypotheticals offer responses of every kind.  Peter, however, continues to fix his focus on Christ.  He continues “For you have been called for this purpose, since Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example for you to follow in His steps, who committed no sin, nor was any deceit found in his mouth; and while being reviled, He did not revile in return; while suffering, He uttered no threats, but kept entrusting Himself to Him who judges righteously; and He Himself bore our sins in His body on the cross, so that we might die to sin and live to righteousness; for by His wounds you were healed (1 Peter 2:11-24).”

Living Christianly will always mean actively engaging circumstances that are challenging, and sometimes hostile.  Such circumstances will rarely offer clear wisdom for easy navigation.  Peter’s words, therefore, position Christ, his character, teachings, and example as what needs to be the sum of our efforts.  With Christ as our focal point, his singular pursuit of Kingdom reality becomes ours, regardless of the circumstances and the challenges they may present.  Just as hostile circumstances are a reflection of the curse and chaos that pervades our world, should the Church choose to cease submission and respond to the hostility in kind, for all the good we presume it could do, it would also reinforce the curse and chaos our witness is called to counter.  By choosing to imitate Christ in our endurance, however, not reviling in return or uttering threats, we give clarity into the one who heals humanity and is making all things new.

The uniqueness of the Church is rooted in the uniqueness of God.  God’s holiness calls the Church to live out this uniqueness amidst the world and her powers all the while set apart from them, even as they try to redefine us in their image.  The Church cannot fulfill God’s purpose for her by aligning herself with those who would usurp God’s authority for their own agenda.  The life of the Church must always be characterized by the life and example of her King, even when that example is shaped like a cross.  In the constant following of Jesus the Church continues to ever bear witness to redemption’s completed day when “the kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, [wherein] he will reign forever and ever (Rev11:15).”

A post-election concern for the Church’s witness

As we come down to the end of what has been a very divisive election season, my concerns are focused primarily on the witness we as the Church are impressing upon the country and world around us.

As the field of candidates has gradually narrowed over the past year, many Christian believers have come to a “rock and a hard place” where it is supposed that desperate times call for desperate measures.  These desperate measures usually amount to what is resignedly referred to as “opting for the lesser of two evils”.

I understand the impulse within the rationale: “Do what you have to do”. “The ends will justify the means”. “It’s all for the greater good”.  Yet, after the impulse has passed, it still remains that we have aligned ourselves with a way that is contrary to the nature of the one to which we’ve been called.  The utilizing of this “lesser evil” logic makes little sense for a God-people who have been called to “be holy in all your behavior; because it is written ‘You shall be holy, for I am holy” (1Pt1:15-16).

I understand that, in the minds of those who use such rationale, the assumed short-term consequences of the “lesser evil” pale in comparison to the assumed long term consequences of electing one who might be considered the “greater evil”.  Be that as it may, the logic seems quite comparable to that of the historical apostasy rationale to “convert now, repent later”.  The logic may seem practical, but it’s just not Christian.

My concern here is the long term impact of the corporate Church willfully falling short of God’s glory.  When that willful shortcoming is committed corporately on a national scale, that impact will be significant.

How so?

One period many Christians frequently forecast is the end times.  It’s an unavoidable, futuristic period during which, among other events, great persecution will break out against the Church.  It will be a time when the gospel is no longer tolerated and those who proclaim it will be met with retribution in the form of societal marginalization, imprisonments, and executions.  Most of the time these forecasts conclude with a rallying cry for Christians to not compromise the faith.

The problem is that choosing the lesser of two evils is just such a compromise.  Granted, it may seem a fairly small compromise; but isn’t that the nature of the “slippery slope” we have historically been so wary to avoid?  The great momentous compromise never just occurs; it is gradually predetermined by the compromising choices we make on the way to that moment.

It inevitably raises the question: Amidst these politically turbulent times, precisely what are we the Church pursuing?  Is it the holiness to which we are called to live out in witness to God’s Kingdom?  Or is it simply the favorable conditions that allow us to go on living comfortably while tending to our religious practices?

My concern is that if in order to retain such comfortable conditions we must compromise our holy character, even in the privacy of the voting booth, what exactly is so special about what we Christians proclaim in our witness?  How can we be seen as anything more than just another people-group with compromised morals?  How can the world hear the good news if we might have had a hand in creating evil news?  Why should they?

This is not a demand or insistence that Christians should not vote or be concerned with elections or civics, but a reminder that as “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession” (1Pt2:9), our devotion to Christ is not dictated by what the system and culture shaping elections and civics is demanding.  We need to be asking ourselves what the sum of our choices are saying about what it is and who it is we the Church are pursuing.  If the answer is anything or anyone that doesn’t look like Christ, we have positioned ourselves on that long slippery slope.

It’s a complex conundrum.  I do not expect or require that Christians can extricate themselves from this quandary cleanly.  I do, however, believe that choosing to “seek first the kingdom of heaven” in how we make our choices is a step in the direction that allows what is unique about Jesus and his Kingdom to marvelously emerge from among the mayhem.

The Eucharist’s witness to a fragmented world

The latest in a long series of violent incidents transpiring between African American individuals and police officers recently occurred in my home state of Wisconsin.  In the wake of these incidents, many details and factors are always repeatedly asserted and discussed.  While I believe discussion is always helpful, discussion must not come at the expense of resolution.  One question I’ve started asking more and more often as these incidents occur, and when other situations of human discord emerge, is “How might the Church’s mission to bear witness to Christ’s kingdom reality be carried out in such hostile or disunified settings?”

The answers will obviously vary, but I recently read a story whose themes echoed a mode of witness the modern Church has ceremoniously kept amongst themselves; a practice that, if extended beyond the meeting walls, could expand a reconciliatory spaciousness within the communities made minor through marginalization.

A few weeks ago in Wichita, Kansas, a group of the “Black Lives Matter” movement was planning on conducting a protest.  While meeting beforehand with the police department to establish an organized and peaceful march, an alternative was reached: instead of a peaceful march, the activists and local police officers decided to do a barbeque together.  They all came together to cook, hang out, eat some food, and to sit and discuss.  By the end of the day, many of them commented that their time together had allowed them to reach a deeper level of awareness and understanding.

The world possesses a diversity of races, classes, ages, and skillsets.  We have CEOs and maintenance staff, professors and students, bosses and employees, citizens and authorities, leaders and followers, friends and enemies.  But one commonality we all share is our need to eat.  No matter what one’s job or role is, at some point, everyone stops to eat food.  In this diverse world, our shared need to eat makes us equal.  Food brings us eye to eye.  In this equalizing sense, food has power.

Food has the power to slow the day down and facilitate calm.  Food pauses the pressure, invites us to relax, and look around the table.  The smells and flavors move our minds from an agenda to an aroma of brotherhood.  The shared stories of how Mom made it best unites our narratives.  Chewing forces us to listen and learn the value and beauty of the other.  Like a beverage washing it all down, the palate of our understanding is freshly cleansed.  As empty plates form contented smiles, a meal’s end greets a new beginning.  Food has the power to nurture reconciliation.

I don’t believe this is by chance.

Holy Scripture relates two significant moments that ripple through the timeline of world history with God’s salvation.  Those two moments are God’s deliverance of the children of Israel from Egyptian slavery, and Jesus’ death on the cross for the sins of the world.  Both of these moments are memorialized with food.  We know them as the Passover Feast and the Lord’s Supper.  With the latter a fulfilling enrichment of the former, these meals are joint revelations of the goodness God is pouring into the world.  In fact, the apostle Paul referred to these celebrations, which the early church celebrated as Christ-centered “love feasts”, as moments of both remembrance and proclamation.  In other words, the Lord’s Supper activity is done both as an act of worship and witness to the redemptive work God is doing.

How does this relate to the hostilities being encountered within our communities?

If the Lord’s Supper is an activity of worship and witness, Christians might start considering all of their meals to be an extension of the Lord’s Supper, where God’s love and goodness can be carried over into all our dining.  If God’s salvation has been commemorated with food, than food in general contains within itself a specific sense of God’s saving goodness.  God’s choice to convey awareness of his salvation through something as universal as food demonstrates his desire to make salvation universally accessible.  That isn’t to say that salvation is universally experienced, but that food is, and where food is served, so is an opportunity to sample his salvation.  And one of the most distinctive flavors of this salvation is reconciliation.

The New Testament Scriptures already provide fluent examples of this.  When Jesus publicly told Zaccheus “today I must stay at your house”, later when Zaccheus’ repented, he was able to declare “Today salvation has come to this house.”

When the early church distributed food to Greek Jews overlooked in the community, they appointed wise and godly men full of the Spirit to serve it so the good news would season the food that would refresh the marginalized.

The above Wichita story is a modern example of what this could look like.  No doubt a Christian community that is willing to “seek the peace of the city” could provide many more reconciliatory examples.

This isn’t to say it’s the Church’s responsibility to fix the world but that congregations who embody Eucharistic living may find themselves demonstrating good news in a Christ-centered way that results in relieving some of the pressures that might otherwise explode into local hostilities.  Eucharistic living helps show that coming together, preparing food together, dining together, cleaning up together, being together, and growing together is not a mundane activity, but a majestic reflection of how God’s salvation is shaping humanity into family.

The Lord’s Supper is a ritual exercise, but one whose spiritual and physical properties have the power to shake the foundations of division and discord plaguing this world and reconcile us again to God and each other in harmony and holiness.