I Don't Know This Jesus

Franklin Graham has been in the news this week, chiefly because he has been refused entry into certain cities in the UK during his tour there, owing to his stance on LGBTQ+ persons.  Mr. Graham views anything other than a heterosexual relationship within marriage to be a sin and has been highly critical of Democratic presidential candidate Pete Buttigieg for calling himself a “gay Christian.”  Graham has been accused of “hate speech” in this regard.  And while I think such criticism of Graham is over-reactionary, I do take issue with Graham’s position.  He cannot seem to conceive of any Christian position other than his own while there are millions of Christians who think more inclusively of LGBTQ+ persons.  

Indeed, Graham represents a popular stream of Christianity in America that seems to have an understanding of Jesus that is incomprehensible to me.  I don’t know this Jesus.  This Jesus who has been lifted up by the conservative evangelical church in this country.  This Jesus who would throw the first stone at LGBTQ+ persons.  This Jesus who would not welcome the stranger (immigration).  This Jesus who would support our national fascination with and addiction to gun culture.  This Jesus who seems to say that the kingdom of heaven belongs to wealthy, white men (and the women who submit to them).  I don’t know this Jesus.

Unfortunately, this brand of Christianity is getting all the media attention.  Most Americans who are not Christian have the impression that Jesus’ followers are hateful, judgmental, and prejudiced.  I have spent my life as a Christian preacher seeking to share the message of Jesus, and I am now discouraged that the Jesus I have proclaimed has become increasingly overshadowed by this Jesus I don’t know.  It’s almost as if the Jesus portrayed in the public arena has been divorced from the message that he proclaimed - a message of concern for the poor, hospitality for the alien, mercy for the sinner, grace for the outcast, blessing for the persecuted, and peace and good will toward all people.  In my grief over what has become of the Christian witness I can hear Jesus once again crying out from the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

How odd that Franklin Graham has become a kind of standard-bearer for what I consider a harsh and distorted view of Jesus.  His father, Billy, was once the representative of conservative evangelical Christianity, but his witness was considerably different than his son’s.  Billy was often sought out for counsel by the various Presidents of the United States, but he was careful not to become overly identified with either political party, giving advice to both Republicans and Democrats.

An example of Billy Graham’s character may illustrate my point.  At a time when Lyndon Johnson was facing a heated campaign against Barry Goldwater, one of Johnson’s close advisors, Walter Jenkins, was arrested for homosexual activity.  This was, of course, during a time when homosexuality was considered a crime and the political consequences would have been considerable.  Johnson sought Billy Graham’s advice.  Nancy Beck Young, a history professor, writing last year in the Washington Post reports the following response from Reverend Graham.  

 “You know, when Jesus dealt with people with moral problems, like dear Walter had . . . he always dealt tenderly.  Always, . . .           I just hope if you have any contact with him, you’ll give him my love and understanding.”

Even Barry Goldwater, against the advice of some of his campaign operatives, refused to take political advantage of the Jenkins situation.

I am not suggesting that Billy Graham is a proponent of gay rights and gay marriage.  He was in many ways representative of the time and place in which he lived.  However, I am lifting him up as a stark contrast to Franklin’s approach, and as a witness to the merciful Jesus that is a closer approximation to the Jesus I know.

America's Original Sin

Jim Wallis of Sojourner’s fame wrote a book some year’s ago in which he described racism as America’s “original sin.”  I have no reason to critique his opinion on the matter.  Racism is a fundamental problem that has haunted American history from our nascent days, weaving it’s evil threads into our continental psyche long before the United States of America were a self-governing nation.  Indeed, racism is an American problem, infiltrating continents North and South, beginning with the institution of slavery and leaving it’s wicked residue to plague us with social ills for centuries.

However, I would step back a bit and propose that behind racism is a deeper, more original “sin” of which racism is but one of many troublesome symptoms or poisonous by-products.  America’s original sin is Greed - capitalized.  Behind slavery was mammon which necessarily leads to wickedness in many forms.  As Christian scripture informs us, “the love of money is the root of all evil.”  Perhaps it is an overstatement to exclaim that mammon, or the love of it, is the source of “all” evil, but the biblical warning should alarm us to the insidious nature of greed.

In America greed has been institutionalized in the form of capitalism.  This is not meant as a wholesale rejection of our nation’s economic system, but as an warning for those who would embrace capitalism without a critical assessment of its often harmful side effects.  While there is a kind of genius behind capitalism in its most basic sense - that a person through hard work and perseverance might prosper - America’s history of slavery, racism, child labor abuse, migrant worker mistreatment, and major bank bailouts provide plenty of evidence pointing to the ways in which capitalism can become a vehicle for malignancy.  The increasing divide between the wealth of labor and that of management is a testament to the power of greed to hold sway.  If capitalism is unregulated by checks and balances on human avarice, the result is bound to be human suffering.  

David Stockman, former manager of the OMB during the Reagan Administration, has bewailed the influence of crony capitalism in which corporations and politicians pander to one another, rigging the economic system so that free markets are no longer truly free, and national interests become indistinguishable from corporate profits.  The Trump family fortune is but one example of how crony capitalism has benefited a very few at the expense of the many (For further reading on this subject try Andrea Bernstein’s American Oligarchs).

My concern is that our present course of unchecked capitalism will inevitably lead to increased human suffering, not only in America but around the world.  Trickle down economy has been proven false.  Greed leads to evil consequences.  As corporations grow more powerful than governments, who will make sure that economies serve the public good?  Has not the time come to break up trillion dollar monopolies in the interest of competition and sustainability?  I write this simply to sound an alarm.  I am not an economist and cannot prescribe a solution. I am only sounding an appeal for a more measured, regulated, and dare I say, human, approach to capitalism.  Bob Dylan once sang that you have to serve somebody, “It may be the Devil, or it may be the Lord.”  One cannot serve both God and mammon.  Who will we choose? 

Polite Conversation

          When I was a boy I was held to what I thought was a rigid standard in the use of grammar.  Verb tenses had to match subjects.  Sentences did not end in prepositions.  Participles were not intended to dangle.  And “ain’t” wasn’t a word.  While my mother sometimes seemed overly finicky about verbiage, I learned from her that what one says matters.  Words carry weight.  “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words [can and do] harm me.”

            A story: a mother was trying to teach her son about the lasting impression of words.  Her son had developed the terrible habit of name calling, using words to spite everyone toward whom he felt anger.  In order to disabuse him of his habit, she reprimanded him by having him hammer a nail into a fence post for every unkind word spoken.  After some time had passed the fence post became a porcupine of nails, with barely an open spot for a new one.  But as the fence post became crowded, his mother came up with a new tactic.  She began to take note of any kind or thoughtful word her son spoke, and as he did, she instructed him to go and pull out a nail from the post.  Gradually, as the lesson began to sink in, the fence post lost its metallic mane until it was once again bare.  And when that moment came she accompanied her son to the post and pointed out the nail holes that had been left behind.  “Just so,” she said, “the harsh words you have spoken may be gone, but the scars they created remain.”

            The words we say matter.  They build up or they tear down.  They edify or they profane.  The Bible gives a couple of admonitions in this regard ---

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” 1 Thessalonians 5:11 

On the other hand . . .

“If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.” Galatians 5:15   

            In his book, Civility:  Morals, Manners, and the Etiquette of Democracy, Stephen L. Carter makes the case that civility is a kind of social contract, an agreement to make sacrifices in order to live together.  We agree to obey the speed limit in order to travel safely.  We agree to stand in line for our turn at the arena ticket window.  We allow certain invasions of individual privacy in order to provide greater security for all.  And among these agreements, Carter would argue that civil discourse is a sacrifice we make for the greater good.

            This is the point that critics of political correctness have missed.  Politically correct verbiage came into being in order to be respectful of others, to be kind, to be thoughtful, to give people the benefit of the doubt – in other words, to “encourage one another and build each other up.”  To put it simply, politically correct language can more reasonably be compared to “polite conversation” – a kind of sacrifice that we make in order to live together, and I would add, to live together peaceably.

            Opponents of political correctness have been having their day, or decade, lately, as it seems they feel permitted to say whatever they want to, no matter who it hurts.  Instead of arriving at openness in dialogue, such conversation only drives a wedge between people.  Instead of the simple truth, we end up with conflicted opinions and opposing sides.  Instead of collaboration, we end up on either side of the aisle in Congress with few venturing to extend a hand to the other.  It seems to me that critics of political correctness have simply given permission for all of us to be rude and hateful to each other.  And I would add the scriptural caution, that if we bite and devour one another, we may be consumed by one another.

            So, I am unapologetic about being politically correct.  I believe such polite conversation leads to greater civility in society.  And for my part, it makes me feel like I’m following Jesus more closely when I encourage others, and try to build others up.  We can still speak the truth, but we do so in love (Ephesians 4:15).  And we might avoid all making all those holes in the fence post.

Retirement!

     Hard to believe but my official retirement date is just over a month ahead.  In retrospect, thirty-three years have flown by, although in the middle of those years I often doubted that this day would come.  There were years filled with tears, for sure, but all in all I have been far more blessed than I have blessed others, more grace experienced than given.
     Still, ministry is hard work.  I came out of seminary with the delusion that working for the church would be a kind of paradise experience.  After all, weren't we all followers of Jesus, the Beloved?  Then I was immersed in my first congregation and found messy, messy lives.  Eugene Peterson says it best, and I'm paraphrasing, but we should not be surprised that there are problems in the church because there are sinners in the church.  And, Peterson continues, if that weren't bad enough, they have sinners for pastors.
     I have been surprised by the meanness of Christians.  I have been appalled by the attitudes of some of Jesus' followers.  I have been ashamed by the actions of people who represent Christ.  There are times I have grown discouraged.
     But there is another side to church life.  I have been surprised by the depth of spirituality of ordinary people.  I have been the recipient of untold kindnesses.  I have been amazed at the self-sacrifice that many Christians are willing to make for the sake of someone else.  There may be sinners in the church but there are saints as well, and I have been privileged to serve among them.
     Privilege is the right word.  While the work is hard, ministry is also a privilege.  People invite me into their homes and tell me their darkest secrets and deepest hopes.  I have been present at the significant moments in the lives of families - birth, baptism, confirmation, marriage.  I have walked with people through the valley of the shadow of death.  I have held the hand of a weeping mother, unable to come to terms with her alcoholic son.  I have baptized a young man in a river, and countless babies in the presence of the faithful.  Meals have been brought to me by dear people, simply because they had me on their minds.  I have had the opportunity to share my heart's wildest hopes in front of congregations every Sunday, and they came back again the next week to listen again, and amazingly, again and again.  Mine has been a life of privilege, indeed.
     There have been sacrifices made to live this life.  I have not chosen where to serve or where to live.  All of that has been chosen for me.  I have had to be flexible.  I have sought to be incarnational, like Jesus - adjusting to my circumstances rather than changing the circumstances to suit me, yet trying to be a witness to the kingdom, whatever the circumstances.
     I have hopes for the years ahead, of course.  I have many projects, plans, trips which have been on the back burner for a while now and I relish the opportunity to spend more time with family.  And now that I DO have weekends off I may end up writing a bit more than I've been able to in recent years.  (I may have to change the name of this blog, however!).
     In any case, thank you for reading.  I'll have more to share in the days ahead. 

Renewal Leave

I’ll be riding a bicycle across the USA this summer, which means I’ll not be posting to my blog (wouldn’t make sense to post “No Weekends Off” when I’m taking the whole summer off!).

Anyway, I will be blogging about my journey on Pedaling to Stop Traffic with YouTube clips as well.  Follow me on this adventure if you will.  Thanks to all my readers and supporters!

Rabbits, Pens and Grace

You’ve heard the phrase, “multiplying like rabbits,” which attests to the prolific way in which rabbits reproduce their own kind.  I have noticed the same thing with ball point pens.  There is no shortage around my house.  While there never seems to be one at hand when I need to make a note, I need look no further than the desk in the den, the kitchen counter, or table, to find half-a-dozen pens of various species.  There are promotional pens from businesses, churches, and schools.  There are pens of different girths, lengths and colors.  There are cheap pens that don’t write so well, and fancy wooden pens, skillfully turned on someone’s lathe.  We have enough, indeed, seventy times seven more than enough, pens to last us our lifetime of use.

And so it is with grace.  Grace is a concept that is often difficult to grasp.  People say grace at meal times.  Dancers show astonishing grace as they twirl and dip.  Some women are named Grace.  British royalty are often addressed as "Your grace."  But grace, as a religious term, means more than that.  Grace means love given without strings attached – love without conditions.  This is the way God loves.

At least that’s what the apostle Paul says in his first letter to the church in Corinth, “love does not insist on its own way.”  At least that’s the way Jesus seemed to love everyone he encountered.  Even as he hung on the cross he is reported to have said, “Father, forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing.”  To the very end of his life Jesus loved the world unconditionally. 

Grace is a word that Christians use to describe that kind of unconditional love.  That means there is enough, and even more than enough, love in the heart of God to love everyone, even those we find difficult to love, who seem mean, unloveable, even wicked.  Like the pens that multiply in my house, there seems no end to the love of God.  And like the diversity of pens that proliferate under my very nose, God meets each one of us as we are, where we are, with exactly the grace we need. 

There is a pen of grace which has your name on it.  But you have to pick it up in order to write your story.  I can’t wait to see how your life in grace turns out.        

Do You REALLY Need It Yesterday?

I was thinking about the phenomena which most of us experience as we grow older concerning the relative speed of time.  As we age time seems to go faster.  Given the rapid speed of change in our culture these days, the perception of time’s speed is accentuated.  I marvel at the changes that today’s nonagenarians have witnessed and wonder how they maintain a grip on life.  Changes in technology, communications, and media in the past decade alone are staggering.  How does one keep up? 

Which begs the question:  Does one have to?  Keep up, I mean.  Do we have to try to keep going at the speed of our culture or is there an alternative?  I remember a trip I made to Brazil several years ago and my tour guide’s description of the relative sense of time experienced in the different regions of the country.  He mentioned Carioca time, a more relaxed sense of schedules lived out by the citizens of Rio as compared to their more driven counterparts further south. 

Even in my home state of North Carolina there is a different approach to time between those who live in cities and those in the country.  In Charlotte you might hear, “Time is money,” while in some remote corner of the mountains “There’s always time for fishing,” may be a more common sentiment.

I’d like to propose that one need not feel pressed by those around us to keep up with their pace.  In Judeo-Christian circles we have a tradition of Sabbath which engages us not only to slow down but to stop what we’re doing altogether for a day, and if, for a day, why not for moments in every other day?  Who needs to go at the speed of light?  Why not choose the speed of life, which I submit is slow enough to smell the roses along the way?

It takes great concentration and discipline to not be caught up in the current of culture.  And to go in the opposite direction may require mutual support from a community that is willing to be counter-cultural along with us.  I think there is more life to be gained from slowing down, lingering over coffee, taking a leisurely stroll through the neighborhood, than from the frantic rush in which we often get caught up. 

Do we really need it yesterday?