Jesus, the Best Hope for the World

I still believe. I still believe Jesus is the best hope for the salvation of the world. Like you, I am often tempted by other “saviors.” Politicians make promises and offer us hope of a better world. And ever hopeful (and perhaps gullible), we believe that perhaps this one will make the difference. But after the glow of elections is past, we discover that all leaders have their flaws. They make compromises we wouldn’t make if we were in their shoes (right?). They let us down in some way. Truth is, the nature of bureaucracy is such that I wonder if any elected leader can overcome it.

We’re still waiting for science and technology to save us. Aren’t microwaves great, assuming those “waves” really don’t have any harmful effect? They can make bread last for weeks in our pantries without molding (I wonder what’s in those additives and what they do to our insides?). Aren’t cell phones awesome? Still, they are filled with toxic metals which if not properly disposed of become contaminants in our soil and water. Love those new spiral light bulbs? Same problem – better dispose of them properly. Every advance creates new problems.

How about the free market? Let’s turn all those entrepreneurs and corporations loose and there will be a marvelous trickle down effect. Oops! Sorry, that was before Enron, Quest, AIG, and . . . BP?

I still believe Jesus is the best hope for the world. He says, “Follow me,” and begins preaching good news for the poor, recovery of sight for the blind, liberty for the oppressed. He feeds the hungry, heals the lame, and casts demons out of the possessed. And he says the most important thing is for us to love one another, and he shows us what love is by giving his life for the life of the world.

I still believe Jesus is the best hope for the world. He carries no weapons to force his will on others. His military strategy is called “loving our enemies.” He offers no political agenda other than building relationships with the least and the lost. His economy is based on giving rather than keeping. Rather than keeping up with the Jones’ he wants us to check on the Jones’ to make sure they’re alright. His mode of communication is outdated, but there’s something undeniably authentic about one-on-one encounters with a person who cares. His health plan might be summed up in “caring for our neighbor.” And he’s so committed to his agenda that he is willing to give his life for it.

Someone once said that the problem with Christianity is not that it has been tried and found wanting, but that it has never been tried. Well, I’m trying. Feebly, I know. But I’m trying. And I still believe Jesus is the best hope for the world. He’s the best solution for all the ills we face. Maybe I am naïve, but I still believe.

Holy Conferencing

There is something unique to those of us Christians of the Methodist persuasion and that is the notion of "holy conferencing." Beyond the notion of mere Christian fellowship, and more specific than the Biblical concept of koinonia, holy conferencing is the coming together of God's people to make important decisions for the good of God's people, with the expectation that we are visited by the Spirit of God in the midst of these decisions.

I just came home after just such a holy conference at a place called Lake Junaluska, a serene and beautiful place in the mountains of North Carolina. The setting is tranquil, with a placid lake providing a backdrop for our deliberations. The accommodations are basic, and our meeting place, Stuart Auditorium, is historic and uncomfortably warm by mid-afternoon. But oblivious to the heat and humidity, we did our duty, meeting long into the night, breaking for meals and for necessities.

My wife and I like to joke about the nature of church conferences. In contrast to my brother-in-law's medical conferences, where he attends a seminar for a few hours, and then goes skiing the rest of the day (winter time in Aspen), my typical church conferences are jam-packed with scheduled meetings. In true Wesleyan fashion, we waste no time in frivolity. However, after my clothes have become damp from my own perspiration, and we have wrangled over the conference budget one line item at a time for several hours, it sometimes becomes difficult to discern the "holy" part of "conferencing."

I admire the patience of our bishop as he oversees the proceedings, giving equal time to both sides of every question, making sure everybody has their say. Hmmm, there IS something holy about that, isn't there? I am amazed at the tolerance shown by the assembled delegates to those whose questions and comments display a clear naivete or elementary grasp of the issues. Such tolerance is a testimony to the presence of grace, and another sign of holiness. Then, of course, there are the many opportunities for worship - songs with Native American roots, music by a Christian rock band, traditional organ and/or piano accompanied hymns that touch the heart, and there we all are, appreciating the various ways people experience God, who comes to us in diverse ways.

So, even in the tedium of meeting there is a holiness to our assembly. The Spirit of God is present. We learn greater respect for each other in our differences, discerning the presence of God in new guises. In honoring each other, showing patience, demonstrating mercy, we are experiencing the "holy" in our "conference."

I come home tired after every yearly conference, but oddly satisfied. Maybe even happy that I am a part of a people who can sweat it out together without losing patience with each other. Makes me glad to be a part of a Christian people.

Pelicans

This photo from a kayak trip I took with my daughter on Oak Island last year captures a resting pelican in the boat in the background. Pelicans are fascinating birds and amazingly graceful in spite of their rather "ugly duckling" looks.

A curious image from early church art is that of a pelican with blood dripping from its breast on its chicks gathered around her. The art is based on a common myth, current in the early centuries A.D., that a mother pelican, when food could not be found, would pierce its own breast so that its blood would provide sustenance for its young. Turns out that pelicans don't actually do this. However, the belief that they did made selection of this image a fitting subject for Christian art - the sacrifice of the pelican as an analogy to Christ's sacrifice for humankind.

I had pelicans on my mind today after viewing the recent photos of pelicans flailing in oil sludge washing up on the Louisiana coast. Surely you have seen the pictures by now. They are enough to make one weep. I don't think this is what God had in mind when humankind was given dominion over creation. Matthew Scully, in his book Dominion, makes the case that at the very least, animals should be treated with mercy. His argument is a jab at the industrial food complex, but the basic theology certainly applies to the current ecological nightmare on the Gulf. There will unfortunately be no mercy for God's creatures, and we will all suffer for it.

Sacrifice - the word is used these days only to apply to those who join the military and fight our country's battles. In the everyday world of business as usual the word sacrifice rarely comes into play, unless it is a call for workers to make sacrifices for company profits. Aah, sorry, I just crossed the line and got on my soapbox didn't I? Still, we could use a little more sacrifice like that of the early church's pelican, like that of Jesus, the One we Christians supposedly follow, so that all God's creatures might flourish. If we could just learn to settle for enough, as the old saying goes, "enough is as good as a feast." I'm sure the pelicans would thank us if they could.