Christlike Christianity

          I know.  The title seems redundant but bear with me a moment.  The word Christian is a time-honored reference to followers of Jesus.  But through the years it has taken on some, shall we say, excess baggage: Charlemagne having the Saxon’s baptized at the point of a sword in the late 8^th Century; the Crusaders in their campaign to annihilate the Muslims in Jerusalem in the 11^th and 12^th Centuries; the long history of Jewish persecution by Christians; the Inquisition in Spain; the persecution of witches in Salem; the sad affairs of TV evangelists, prosperity gospel preachers, and the list could go on . . .

          Why is it that in these days when I think Jesus has never been more desperately needed by the world, I feel a certain embarrassment at being identified as a “Christian”?  I suppose it’s because the name can so easily be misunderstood. Has the word lost its meaning?  Like the word “love,” which we use to express the heights of passion for another person, and the most casual of pleasures (“I love what you’ve done with your hair!”), perhaps the word “Christian” needs an adjective.

          Ah, that’s right!  Someone has already come up with one, as in “born again Christian.”  Still, that phrase has become as divisive as modern politics.  Others argue for “biblical Christianity,” as if there is any other kind.

          Let me cut to the chase.  What if we came back to Jesus, who we are supposed to be following?  What if, instead of being biblical Christians, we became Christlike Christians?  After all, wiping out tribes of Ammonites and Philistines might be biblical, but it is hardly Christlike. 

          What if, instead of being born again Christians, we were simply Christians who were trying to be more Christlike in our actions?  After all, Jesus said you must be born again to only one person – Nicodemus; but he said to all those who were attracted to him, “take up your cross and follow me.”  

          My argument is articulated with greater style and depth by many theologians in the emerging church – writers such as Brian McLaren.  But I am convinced that our identity as Christians is significant not because of what we believe but because of how our beliefs are manifested in our practice.  Some would argue that what we believe will be seen in our actions.  I would argue that it is our actions that reveal what we believe. 

          The way ahead for the people of God will not be shaped by theologians who articulate the faith, but by Jesus-followers who actually live it.  And I share this quote, from an unknown source.  May it be a guide for all who follow Jesus:

          “The answer to every life test you’ll ever face is the same.  The answer to every test is this; Christlikeness.”

                        

Welcome the Stranger

          These days, if you were in a middle school current events class you would likely be learning about immigration reform.  The need for reform has been evident for at least a decade now, and after the recent election season it seems that both sides of the political aisle have the will to engage in significant action.  I am delighted, and members of my congregation, both Anglo and Latino, are hopeful.

          My own opinions on this matter are shaped by Jesus’ mandate to “welcome the stranger,” from the well-known parable in the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 25.  But the roots of Biblical hospitality can be found even in the Old Testament.  There is a rich witness of grace extended to the stranger among the people of Israel, even though they felt themselves uniquely chosen apart from other peoples.    For instance: 

And I charged your judges at that time, “Hear the disputes between your people and judge fairly, whether the case is between two Israelites or between an Israelite and a foreigner residing among you. Do not show partiality in judging; hear both small and great alike. Do not be afraid of anyone, for judgment belongs to God.” (Deuteronomy 1:16-17, NIV) 

These words seem pretty clear that Israel understood God as one who showed no partiality between the so-called “chosen people,” and the strangers who lived and worked among them.  Israel was constantly reminded that their sensitivity to the stranger came out a deep empathy because they once were a people who knew what it was like to be foreigners in a strange land.  Psalm 39:12 is an example: 

          Hear my prayer, Lord, listen to my cry for help;

           do not be deaf to my weeping.

I dwell with you as a foreigner,

            a stranger, as all my ancestors were. 

          While the U.S. government has been slow to extend that same grace, at least churches, or the ones I am familiar with, have been more willing to provide a spiritual home and even sanctuary to those foreigners residing among us.  My own congregation includes a significant number of “resident aliens” who have been graciously received into our fellowship.  In this case the people of God have been leading the way in how to treat the strangers among us, praying that our civil authorities will eventually find a way to be hospitable as well.

          Admittedly, a nation has a right to establish rules for citizenship, and even Israel had certain restrictions, requiring the “sojourners” among them to comply with certain Jewish dietary or cleanliness laws, and limiting them to worship at the temple only at the outer court.  Nevertheless, the overwhelming body of instruction regarding the stranger in Israel is marked by gracious hospitality. 

          In the letter to the Hebrews we are reminded to show “hospitality to strangers for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”  So, while the U.S. for the time being may still be criminalizing the sojourners among us, the people of God are admonished to treat them as angels among us; indeed, to treat them as if each one may be Jesus, himself, “As you have done it unto the least of these, you have done it unto me.”

         

We Do Not Need a Pope

One of the members of my church was kidding with me last night, saying that we Methodists need to elect a pope so we can draw some attention our way.  He was remarking on how amazing it is that all the world seems fascinated by the conclave of cardinals - the election accompanied by the traditional white smoke.

Elections, whether in the church or in larger society, are always accompanied by hope.  I commented on the U.S. elections last fall that we seem unfailingly optimistic about the candidates we support.  We imagine that if only the people will elect our candidate of choice then the problems we face will be rectified, and progress and prosperity is sure to follow. 

I think our personal agendas must cloud our memories.  Surely we have seen enough candidates fail to achieve their stated platforms to know that no matter who we elect, he will eventually disappoint us.  So, regarding the election of Pope Francis I, I will pray for him and hope for the best, but I suspect that people will, in time, become disappointed in him, too.    When half the world’s Catholic Christians want a progressive pope, and the other half a conservative, what are his chances of getting everyone on the same page?  The Roman Catholic Church is such an unwieldy institution that even the greatest Pope can only do so much.  I imagine him sitting on a mechanical bull in a Texas bar, trying to hold on while being tossed to and fro.  I am not a pessimist, really.  I simply remember that at the end of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem there was a cross awaiting him.  We human beings can be dangerously fickle.

I am encouraged that the new pope has a reputation for humility and concern for the poor.  That’s a good sign.  Hopefully, he can straighten out the web of other problems and challenges facing Catholicism while maintaining that missional thrust.  As for us Methodists, no, we do not need a pope.  We have enough challenges these days without adding a new wrinkle to our administrative structure. 

All churches, no matter how we are organized, have blessings to give to the world, and flaws to overcome.  We don’t need media attention, necessarily.  What we need is more Christlikeness -  among our leaders, among our clergy, among those of us who worship in the pews.  I’ll take one Christian who will visit the sick and elderly, for every two who want to do the latest, greatest popular Bible study.  I’ll take one Christian who will check each week to make sure the homeless have food and blankets, for every two who are offering their opinions about the music we are singing on Sunday mornings.  I’ll take one Christian who is willing to teach the children the stories of Jesus, for every two who are enthralled with my preaching. 

Again, the answer to every challenge facing the church is Christlikeness.  From me.  And from you.  And perhaps, for those of you who continue to be put off by the church, a little more Christlikeness on the part of more Christians might make you change your minds.  In the mean time,  don’t be disappointed in us Christians.  As with any pope, we will undoubtedly let you down at one time or another.  Much better to keep your eyes on Jesus.  He’s the one who reveals the will of God.  Really.   

In Search of Community

          Times are hard.  I write this the same week that the Dow Jones average has hit new highs.  Several weeks ago I learned that the sale of Rolls Royce automobiles has grown the last few years.  Apparently times are not hard for everybody.

          My mother’s family were farmers.  In fact, my cousin Charles and his son still run a small dairy farm in Rowan County.  There’s nothing quite like the taste of sweet milk fresh from the cow.  Those white liquids we buy in cartons from the grocery store are a pale imitation of the real thing. 

          Wendell Berry writes poetically about farming, and farming communities – a way of life that is passing from us.  But in those farming communities there is a richness to life, largely because of relationships.  Farming communities once thrived because of interdependence.  Farmers helped each other get in each other’s crops.  Farmers shared wisdom about when and where to plant.  Farming communities tended to each other’s livestock, cared for each other’s sick, and watched and corrected each other’s children.  The wealth of a farmer was in the abundance of his relationships, not in the balance of his savings account.

          The flow of modernity has been toward greater isolation of people from each other, and the severing of those interdependent relationships which nurture community.  We have been fed a lie that we will be happier if we don’t need anyone else but ourselves.  So, the square footage of our homes has grown significantly, while the number of people in those homes has dramatically decreased.  Even in our homes, families are separated, each having a TV in his or her bedroom so that we can be further isolated from one another.  Or we can be disconnected to each other in the same room, our attention glued to our electronic devices.  Even farmers have become less dependent on each other, and more reliant on their machines.  The rise of the factory farm has led to diminished communities.  And in our growing isolation from each other, we know and care less about each other – particularly about the poor.

          My concern is that the less we see and relate to the poor, the less likely we are to see them as people like ourselves.  Instead of seeing them as “people who happen to be poor,” we tend to see them as a demographic statistic, a stereotype of who they really are, and the easier it becomes to ignore them, as in the Biblical parable of Lazarus at the gate.

          Why should you care?  The Dow is rising.  Why not get ours while the getting is good?  Well, a Rolls Royce may be a nice ride but it is a poor substitute for friendship.  As I learned from an African proverb recently, “How can any one of us be happy if any one of us is sad?”

There is an ethical and moral imperative to care for the poor.  But it seems to me that the reason we should care is not so much to fulfill our sense of obligation to some duty, but so that we might become more human.  Our sense of community is diminished when everyone looks, acts, and thinks like us.  We are enriched by relationships with others, maybe especially those who are not in our socio-economic circle. 

          Jesus says something about inviting people to dinner who don’t have the means to reciprocate.  That might be a good way to begin rebuilding communities that are rich and diverse.  There’s nothing quite like a good meal to help build relationships. 

         

           

         

Too Much

          Dave Matthews had a song, “Too Much,” in which he sang about insatiable desire.  I thought it was an obvious parable about contemporary culture.  We tend to want too much.  And sometimes, we want irreconcilable desires.  We want to eat whatever we want, and we want to keep our schoolgirl figures.  We want government services, but we want them not to cost us.  We want peace and harmony in the family, but we want it on our terms.  We want it all.

          We want too much.  For Christians the season of Lent provides a wake-up call regarding our endless desires.  We begin with an acknowledgement of our limitations on Ash Wednesday with the stark reminder that we are all going to die.  Gee, who wants to think about that? Then we are encouraged to give something up for Lent; another denial of what we may be craving.  And if that is not enough, we keep being reminded about taking up our cross and following Jesus, who himself was cruelly crucified on Good Friday.  Who wants any of this?

          Isn’t there an easier way?  Well, of course there is.  There are countless other ways to live our lives.  In Jesus’ own day, there was the way of the Pharisees and the Sadducees.  There were the extreme ways of the Essenes, or of King Herod, by way of contrast.  There are a variety of ways of living that many find preferable today --- the way of the Kardashians, the way of FOX news, the way of MSNBC, the way of Honey Boo Boo, or the way of the couch potato --- simply watching this endless stream of entertainment (so-called).  If you want it bad enough, you can find plenty of affirmation to buttress your chosen way of living and thinking, whatever that may be.

          But the person who says, “I’m going to follow Jesus,” in this self-indulgent culture is challenged daily to test her or his wants in the crucible of what God wants for us.  And the cross is the litmus test of whether what we want fits with God’s ultimate plans.  There is plenty of cross-avoidance among Christians, no doubt.  But sooner or later, if we claim what we believe, we cannot avoid the sacrifice of Jesus.  The cross stands as a judgment against every self-indulgent choice we make, individually or communally. 

          The irony of our too-much culture is that no matter how much we have, it never seems to be enough.  We always want more, and never seem satisfied.  But Jesus reminds us that God is enough.  And in that enoughness, Jesus was content.  I believe that’s what’s so attractive about Jesus; he was satisfied.  “Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”  True, but nevertheless, Jesus was still content.  Deep down, I think that’s all we really want, too, . . . to be satisfied with enough.  This is my prayer for all of us.  May we be content with God.  And if we are, it will be enough.