Yes, But...

The other night, President Trump gave his first address to the nation. In the mode of the day, it was massively ideologically divided. As he walked into the hallowed hall of Congress, he was greeted by supportive hoorahs and, equally, a protest of relative silence. And after he took to the podium, a Democratic Representative stood standing in protest, waving his cane toward the podium. At the same time, the Speaker called the Sergeant of Arms to escort the Representative out of the room, much to the cheers of the President’s supporters.

My quick take: The piety and spite from both sides of the aisle stand equal. Void of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Nothing we should be proud of in many regards. Yet it is this system of the world that followers of the way are called to live within, yet not a part of. We are to be aliens in a foreign land, adoptees into a different system—the body of Christ—the intention of creation.

Of course, the response to this speech and the hullabaloo around it has, not surprisingly, shown its vigor and venom in the media and social mediums. With much-proclaiming innocence for ‘their side’ laden with ‘yeah, buts’, like “Yeah, Trump is an a**hole, but look at the Dems.” and the likewise for and from the other side of the aisle. Offering forgiveness for mine but not for yours. We’ve become cult-like fans of our lesser of two evils. Or worse—full-on believers in them.

So here we are, dancing intimately with the political spirit in 2025. We’re in a seeming battle of self-righteousness, with either side proclaiming what is right and wrong based on our worldviews, cultural makeups, and the specifics of our faiths.

When it comes to faith, the Bible describes it as “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

I reckon that our faiths have become less the substance of hope and the evidence of the unseen and have turned into tenets and rules. Dos and don’ts. Rights and wrongs. Lacking in mystery and opportunities for things deeper. We draw so many strict conclusions that can easily shift us into launching pious diatribes about the ‘rightness’ of our conclusions rather than a posture of availability for God and fertility for growth.

James Finley shares, “We get lost in the answers about God instead of the intimacy with God.” And Jesus came to reach those lost.

Sometimes, I wonder how off the map I, or many of us, can be. While Christ calls us to conviction and to stand on a ground that we deem solid, many political and religious spirits deceive us with input and answers, skewing what is actually solid to stand upon.

In my current season, God has placed a word on my heart. When I become critical of others, he asks, “I hear you, Rick. But what is that to you?” As to prod my mind in a way that challenges, “Perhaps you see some of my truth, but be less concerned about another’s receptivity to it and more concerned about your following, Rick.”  Asking me where my heart is, what is my motive…how is my attitude? Seeing the spec in my eye rather than the plank in another’s.

He wants me to check my mind and its intentions and to examine the ground I stand upon, not so much that of others.

My Pastor, Dr. Sebastian Holley, shared the other day that “Most of us want to practice religion because we understand it.” The religious spirit comes with rules to abide by and qualifications to be met rather than a relationship to have with a holy God who has placed me into the earth with a purpose and a truth to manifest as Christ in me, uniquely. I believe when we get our manifestation tied too tightly to the kingdom of this world, we’re not in God’s intention for us.

So, what do we get our minds wrapped up into? What are the spirits we dance with or entertain with too much conviction?

“I hear you, Rick. But what about you?”

Babelism

As the ancient story goes in the book of Genesis, the world had “one language and common speech.” From this place, they wanted to “make a name for themselves.” This was displeasing to God, as it realized the risk of a singularity that would allow them to do the impossible. So, God scattered them and confused their languages.

It seems singularity is not God’s design. Otherwise, he probably would have let them be.

Perhaps this singularity produces a mindset of making an individual name for itself that seems counter to God’s intention.

Today, we get snared within the singularity of our isms. Denominationalism. Nationalism. Capitalism. Marxism. Socialism. Racism. Ageism. Sexism. And many others. I’m no historian, but I’d imagine these isms have grabbed hold of humanity since its inception. As was the early case with Babel in the Bible’s first book

I can’t imagine what time was like way back then, but I have a contextual understanding of today. And I see the walls of singularity holding strongly—walls guarding and defending a righteousness of self-knowledge and self-protection.

The problem is that isms don’t listen. It’s as though they say, “Why listen when you possess the correct answer as to how to build ourselves a city?”

In reality, isms have a distinct vantage point or perspective on other isms. They are aware of things the other may not be.

You see, when you are able to view something from an outsider perspective, you have a lens that the inside doesn’t possess. This is true in many organizational and institutional environments. It’s often why they hire consultants to come into a company to tell them what they don’t see. Having had the opportunity to do this for many companies in marketplace and ministry, it is consistent to see what blinders the companies wear and how detached they are from the realities of their ‘outside world.’

In the U.S., we love our capitalism. American Franciscan priest and writer Richard Rohr shared, “We pick up capitalism with our mother’s milk.”

Our country’s devoted singularity to a system has deafened our ears to input from the outside. If a tenant of Marxism provides a lens of thought and consideration, we immediately dismiss the input and its validity, marching to our system’s defense with, “You see how that ruined Venezuela!” And the like.

Sure, we can debate each system’s pros and cons, but moreover, isms don’t like to be challenged. They hold fast to their way. They often provide vehement protest to even the idea that a tenant is questioned, crying, “How DARE you!”

But, back to Babel. God scattered and confused the singular them. He had a bigger plan in mind. A plan that comes to fruition in a Biblical future of “a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb...” Singularity does not seem to be God’s design.

Isms don’t have it all right. And sure, we can easily admit that whichever is ours is flawed. Or that none of them will achieve the fullness of existence that God intends. But when we dismiss the input of another perspective, we can throw too many babies out with the bathwater. Isms need input as they have blind spots that can prove damaging to many living within them. Often, that input stems from another ism itself.

When Jesus came to the water to be baptized, John the Baptizer called the crowd to “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Thanks to ChatGPT, I’ve learned that the Greek for “repent” conveys the idea of changing one's mind or turning away from past actions, often in a moral or spiritual context.

Perhaps we need to repent a bit from the isms that we hold so dear. Perhaps we cup our ear to outside thought. I’m not saying submit to the other isms, as that’d be counter to all I’ve talked about. Still, we need to allow for the examination of the allegiances we pledge and bind our minds to, before we dismiss them because they’re too different.

We’re all guilty. Just because I’ve written a blog post about it does not in the least negate my susceptibility to singularity. I guess repentance is a consistent and ongoing state. As is listening.

Thinking Again

Here we are again on the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday. A year after my last blog post, where I shared my perspective as a white person, I’m once again reflecting and sharing thoughts on this important day of recognition. (Note to self: I need to write more in between)

We had another season of Presidential election. One wrought with piety, assassination attempt, power grab, control, wealth, and ‘us, not them.’ One in which there was seemingly no mention of the poor, the imprisoned, the widow and orphan, or the societal gap between the haves and have-nots. It seemed an election of self. Mainly self-interest, self-security, self-importance, self-righteousness, and self-aggrandization—essentially securing what impacts me and mine alone.

This ‘self’ was defended vehemently, often disparaging the other. It was a head-to-head contest of values, means, meanings, references, facts, lived experiences, and more. The voice of someone like Dr. King was gravely missing. A voice that called out the activities of power and raised the concerns of the powerless. And ironically, today is Inauguration Day. And as a result, in the minds of many, they are blinded even to the regard of King, let alone his ideas.

It seems in this land of the free, we are not free. We are bound by our culture—our assuredness—those things that stand between us and curiosity, learning, and growth. We throw up barriers of our history, our faith practice, our means of solution, our truth-tellers, ours…me….mine…self.

We don’t understand the importance of the other.

In Paul’s letter to the Philippians, he states, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain concept, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests but also to the interests of others.”

We have a humility problem.

I think we make a bigger deal about our method of problem-solving rather than resolving the problems themselves—believing we know better than those other people. We are eager to dismiss voices that don’t share the same politics, use of language, denominational perspective, generational existence, time on the earth, or ‘truths.’ Mostly in the name of power and control. Because, well…we’re right and know all the right answers.

Author Donald Miller wrote “When I dig in and defend my own ideas I run the risk of losing objectivity. Self-deception is quick when our “rightness” is on the line”.

We shut our ears and instinctively go on the offense. Trying to seek out what to find wrong instead of what may be helpful. We discard messages and messengers quickly. Saying things like “They are ignorant.” “They are not a Christian”. “They are Marxist”. “They are extremist.” “They have the wrong facts.” They are this, they are that.

Justin Giboney, cofounder of the AND Campaign, an attorney, and a political strategist in Atlanta, said, “Faith should give us moral imagination.” I think we’ve lost that. I’m curious how much of it we ever had in our Western church practices.

We desire uniformity rather than unity.

Unity is hard. It requires the lowering of the self and the raising of the other. Our fears cause us to regard ‘lowering’ as zero-sum or loss. We think if we lower ourselves, it will cost us. The truth is it will. But the benefit—the shalom—is shared. And beautiful. And frankly, the beloved community that King spoke about.

Much like Christ set aside all his infinite power and omnipresence to come into the context of humanity—on behalf of the other (us)—we need to check our attitude and motive in so many regards. Jesus spent many years walking with his disciples, trying to get them to understand this truth. This alternative power structure. Yet, time and again, they either disregarded or could not comprehend his ways. Be it questioning who will sit at the right and left or picking up the sword of defense for Jesus himself.

I think it was Richard Rohr who was talking about the spiritual metaphor of water as he shared, “Water always goes down to the lowest places.” It resides there and interacts with what is going on ‘below.’ Much like Jesus did and asks of his followers—those following the way—to do likewise.

On this King holiday (and beyond), lean into the stories of others. Listen to learn, and not defend your turf. Or as my Pastor, Dr. Sebastian Holley, spoke, “We want to disqualify the messenger so we don’t have to deal with the message.”

As the author says in Galatians, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.” We all need to soberly look at where our bondages exist. Before we quote King.

Thinking King

Yesterday while I was in the common area waiting for church to begin, I sat at a table and saw a blind woman approaching with her dark glasses and cane. I wondered to what degree she even knew of my presence as she came to the table where I sat. Could she see a shadow—can she hear my breathing—sense my presence? After she sat down, I said to her, "You know, when people who can see see a blind person with a cane, we wonder what they can see." We talked about how she lost her sight, what that was like for her, and more.

Sight is relative. So is understanding.

I had a wonderfully dear friend Steve who was my neighbor for over a decade. Steve was a black man. I recall a conversation with him where he shared, "Sometimes when I see a white person; I wonder what they think of me." I replied, "Sometimes when I see a black person, I wonder what they think I am thinking about them."

We don't know what we don't know.

Today we honor Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It is one of those days where, for a white guy, I wonder what to say. I wonder how to honor Dr. King and the civil rights movement. I wonder what other black people will think of my post, my declaration. I wonder what other white people will think as well.

So the following are a few thoughts from me, a white guy. While I may seemingly paint with a broad brush through some of this, the perspective comes from investment in relationships, self-work, observations, conversations, and learnings from both black and white people. It comes from me.

Firstly, taking a day to honor Dr. King and making it about myself and my point of view may be a typical response from a white guy and tragically ironic, but I will write on—asking for forgiveness in advance. You see, we (and when I say "we" throughout this, "white people" is what I mean) come from a place of cultural conditioning that influences our beliefs and our behavior. Often unwittingly.

That said, America's white majority culture lives in and from a place that was developed and geared for us by us. When you exist in this majority culture, anything that influences from outside that cultural construct can come across as a challenge because it's different. Or worse, wrong. Or worse yet, bad. The ability to entertain challenge is complex.

Dig into the challenge and explore the complexity.

On a day that brings attention to past and current civil rights issues, we often wrestle with our public response to it.

Do we:

1. Declare 'color of the skin/content of character'? This is a safe place. It aligns me with Dr. King but also with relatively benign behavior.

2. Declare 'the inadequacies of the southern church and its response to late 60's racism'? Thinking this portrays me in a position of allyship.

Option one, while benign, is expected and perhaps more authentic.

Option two, while seemingly and equally noble and 'aligned with the cause,' can be problematic. I have learned that I cannot pronounce myself as an "ally" to the black community. It is the black community that attributes that to me.

Allyship is earned, not owned.

Words like "CRT" and "Woke" are the boogyman to many of us. Part of this perception is that these words' genesis is unknown to us and, as a result, are defined for us by us. The ideas of CRT and its exploring of systems whose beginnings come with racist intentions have turned into a thwarting of our educational system. And Woke, whose beginnings were defined and owned by the black community as a vehicle that connects a formerly enslaved race and currently oppressed community to the dignities of African heritage, king and queenship, and more. But we have turned it into a thwarting of white people, an insult, or a political push.

Words can be colonized to suit our agenda.

As we entered the beginning of the 2020s, we saw a rise in awareness of the need to further racial equality. We saw marches. We saw black lives mattering. We saw riotous behavior. We saw round-table conversations. We saw new public demands and corporate responses. We all wrestled with it in one form or another. Racism is real—it was pressed into our faces.

Some proclaimed the virtue of color blindness. Others pursued new education and understanding. Some argued politics. Others worked toward relationships. Some proclaimed that things are better now. Others believe there's still a long way to go. Some pointed to the founding fathers and intentions of our country. Others pointed out poor execution from those fathers on those intentions.

We all saw it and wrestled with it according to who we are. And this continues to this day—the day to honor and examine ourselves and the rights of others.

Professor and Author Esau McCaulleys tweeted, "We can't have a Bible that says cleanse me from my secret faults (Psalm 19:12) and be offended by the mere idea that we might have undiscerned racial biases."

Racism is deep. I have stories to tell that reveal it's depth in me.

Do some digging inside yourself today specifically, and moving forward especially.

Permanent Condition?

"Who told you you were naked?" - Genesis 3:11

At church last Sunday, Dr. Sebastian Holley was sharing from the front about this verse and how we have a burden and binding of our condition. In the garden in Genesis, Adam and Eve had each taken a bite of the apple. When they did this, they saw themselves in a new condition. The reality of their nakedness...and they became afraid and ashamed. Of course, in the garden, pre-apple-bite, they were walking with God. Naked, yet unashamed. And they were hanging out with God. Seems quite wonderfilled. Holley went on to share about how we are not here to meet God's "expectation," but instead meet his "Love." Again, wonderfilled.

So how often do we let our particular condition stand between us and Love?

Condition can be enjoyed and embraced or burdensome and undesired. But it is often invisible. And the things that contribute to our condition are many and varied.

We can see condition in terms of our health, our economic and social state of affairs, our upbringing, and the like. Things we can put effort toward to change for good or bad. And some things we can't influence or affect.

But it's those things invisible things I'd like to consider.

Let's go back to the garden.

Eve and Adam had an existence that they were unaware of...nakedness. They walked about with the animals, enjoyed the sunset, maybe farmed a bit, ate, and bathed in the stream. They were entrenched and nestled in the 'place of God.' The place of creation and Love.

But when we are entrenched and nestled in places that are not of creation and Love, we are an apple bite away from shame and fear. From seeing our nakedness.

When I look at much of our world—our cultures, our politics, our religions, our positions—I think we may not realize how ashamed or afraid we ought to be.

We can be blind to it when we haven't bitten an apple other than ours. Or perhaps we are in a place where we haven't even seen another tree, let alone its fruit.

We need to look at our state of affairs. Is it a singular garden? Perhaps solely surrounded and influenced by our fruit-filled inputs, positions, and plant-mates.

We may need to embrace a few other apples and take a bite. We can miss out on our own fruitfulness when we keep to a conditioned diet.

In the book of Galatians, we hear that "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery."

It is for freedom. Our freedom. Take time—that valuable and uncommon resource—to examine your "yokes of slavery." Who or what holds the keys to your shackles? Is it loyalty? Agreement? Tradition? Comfort?

Allow yourself to eat other fruit and not combat it simply because it doesn't taste according to your conditioned palate.

Even with our faith.

I have been attending Dr. Holley's church, Unity Worship in Cartersville, GA. It is a new tree in my garden. I am tasting new tastes that were not on my traditional menu. I am finding freedom there. A freedom from my own condition.

While Unity is susceptible to a conditioning of its own—as is every church—they are very mindful of that reality, both from the pulpit and in the pew. And I am enjoying the feast.

So, branch out of your comfort, your condition. Eat more fruit. We may not realize how our current palate has limited us in our understanding and pursuit of God and our knowledge of the Kingdom and its expanse.

Other fruit can show us our blind spots, our limitations, our shackles. Be brave and bold with your palate.

* Dr. Holley has written many books that address the condition of the legalism and traditionalism of the church and its church-goers. You can find them here.

Truth Be Told

I had the opportunity to attend a Faith Driven Entrepreneur (FDE) virtual viewing party yesterday. It is essentially an event with speakers aligned with the FDE organization and others who share how they incorporate their Christian faith into the business marketplace. Part of their desire is to integrate 'biblical values' into organizations and companies in the for-profit sector to help change the world for Christ. I went in as a bit of a skeptic.

You see, I've done a lot of work with churches and evangelical organizations, lived my life in "America's christianity," and spent time in places domestically that are outside of this "christianity." Throughout, I've developed reasons and rationale to generate some cynicism. But I did my best to see what I could gain and glean from my participation.

As I listened to the speakers who came across the screen, I took copious notes. I'd imagine many of the speakers or attendees might see these notes as counter-to-the-cause or perhaps even blasphemous. That said, imposing a religious agenda into the marketplace can take on many forms. Some we may see as good. Others bad. It depends upon what we believe. Even atheists impose their beliefs into the marketplace.

I'd thought about writing a response to the particulars of what was covered but realized that we are in a time and place where our individual take on things are rather diverse and divisive.

So while I may not remain silent with my specific thoughts (either within a blog or otherwise), I want to talk about "Truth."

In our politicized and agendaed world, our beliefs tend to be what we see as Truth. Many go to a litany of facts and data to prove and articulate their Truth. Others go to lived experiences. In many cases, it's a combination of both.

In the Christian faith, the balance between facts and Truth is squirrely. Here in the States, this "American christianity"(read the "conservatives" or "the misogynistic") is often defended and diatribed through datapoints and the parading of pundits who agree with our beliefs.

Equally, this "unAmerican christian" (read the "progressives" or the "woke") typically use the same methodologies, often pushing belief-inspired agendas and silencing their opponents. Perhaps with ridicule as the primary weapon.

Either "christian" has methods of communication and action that seem counter to what they espouse—indeed lacking in humility and grace in many regards.

But let's look at Truth. And what I've read to be the Truth described within the pages of the bible (granted, I'm not a "bible scholar").

I've been reading the book of John recently. Within it, Jesus says that he is "the way, the truth, and the life." He also says that we would know the "truth" and it will make us "free." Also, it shares of a "Spirit of truth" who will guide us "into all truth."

Is truth relative according to what we believe? And if we believe this Jesus and this Truth (according to the book held dear by Christians), how does it stack up with our facts? Were Jesus' words and the Spirit-inspired words throughout defended with facts? Or ridicule? Or were they merely lived and shown?

His facts weren't line-itemed. They were demonstrated via healing, feeding, and resurrecting. When he was asked about what it takes to follow him, he didn't list things to do, rather someone to be.

He held any ridicule for the self-righteous and the legalists within the religious construct. He even once said to a close friend, "get behind me satan." You could say any ridicule was for his opposition, but we need to think about what or who that opposition was. Maybe it was us.

But what is Truth?

Albert Einstein said, "The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are to remain children in all our lives."

Jesus said, "Let the children come to me."

Are we too grown up and concluded to understand Truth?

Christians, let's get back to the childlike wonder of Christ. The infantness of being born again. We may think our christianity is too mature for child eyes and ears. Maybe we're too grown up.

Perhaps in many cases, we're quite big for our britches. Or too concluded about an infinite God.

In The Good Friday

WHAT YOU’RE ABOUT TO READ

I considered calling this a “white paper,” and in some punny way it is, but rather it is an open letter to the suburban affluent white Christian. I’m not a trained writer, schooled theologian, an expert on social sciences, or aware of all of the ins and outs of writing, footnoting, attributing, etc. I simply have something to say and wanted to put fingers onto the keyboard and share some of it. Within this you’ll see terms like “we/our/us,” and they represent the white Christian or church that is infused with American evangelical faith practices—this gentrified faith—and all of its resulting baggage and perspectives.

When it comes to conversations or writings about race, it is a loaded topic. Loaded with culture, context, terms, experiences and inexperiences, historical truths, and beliefs. That said, please forgive any ignorance or inaccuracies in what you’re about to read. While some readers may find disagreement to some of the content, it may be agreeable to others. If my terminology is off-putting or in your mind incorrect, I ask you to read on anyway and hopefully understand what I’m trying to communicate to you. 

THE WHITE GUY WHO WROTE THIS

I grew up in what was arguably one of the most advantaged places in the world. My hometown of Darien was one of the wealthiest small towns in Connecticut. It was a commuter town and many of its residents took the train into New York City for Wall Street jobs or otherwise. It was an exclusive and exclusionary place to grow up. Our school system would bring students in from urban cities around the U.S. through a program called A Better Chance (ABC) to give them opportune access to our well-supported public education system. The young women (there were no young men) in the ABC program shared housing and went to school together. I don’t know of any successes or failures of the ABC program because, frankly, at the time it was way off of my radar as were many other things. In Darien, parents were wealthy. Many of their offspring ran amok through keg parties, sailing school, Vermont ski trips and the like. Oddly, racial advantage was something I knew nothing about, yet all the while was fully immersed within it. It was my norm. I was blind to it.

I committed to faith in Christ in fourth grade at a Nicky Cruz rally. At that point I had no idea as to what that really even meant. I went to church, to youth groups, read some bible, and prayed. I wrestled with a real attempt at Jesus-following throughout my high school and college experience, often “falling short” in my eyes and I’m sure the eyes of others. I didn’t know what I didn’t know about who this Jesus was, what he wanted of me, or what that looked like in my life in the world. That said, I am a Christian.

Much has changed in terms of my contextual experience. I now reside in Atlanta with my wife and two sons. I’m 52 years old, have spent more than two decades in the brand and marketing field, learning about the importance of audience and communication, designing and writing. I’ve attended a few different churches, overcome some addictions, and struggled with job and financial issues. I try to be a good husband and dad, and a good human being whose compelled to live from his faith. I’ve matured within the American protestant/evangelical faith, and carry all the perspectives or baggage from doing so.

When it comes to the topic of race, for more than a decade I’ve had loving friendship and mentorship with myriad people of color. Some who are long-standing, close friends and “family.” Others interesting acquaintances with whom I’ve shared conversation and multiple cups of coffee. I have done a fair share of listening to, reading and viewing content, doing my best to explore, understand, and to put my feet in places that offer insight into the lives and experiences of people who don’t share my culture or background.

I thought it important to share a bit about my background for context. But this isn’t about me. Please read on...

OUR CONSUMING CHURCH

Please preach what I like.

We are consumers in and of life. Seeking the quick fix, the ease, those matching opinions that satisfy our own. As a result, many of our churches have developed facilities, programs, and messages that appease this desire. Products that will present a nice message that may slightly challenge us, but nevertheless make us feel rather nice. Products that agree with our life and mindset so we can go and tell others to follow my suit. Products that may bring insight, thought, and feeling, but mostly allow us to move along our merry way.

Early in the Bible, it shares about how all that God created was “good.” Then humanity said “no” to God in the garden and became no longer good. Then Jesus came to earth for us, died for us, and allowed us to be good in God’s eyes once more. Simple as that. Easter makes it good again. And we like that. We can easily grab hold of Easter. It appeals so nicely to our sensibilities. Atonement. Redemption. Getting us to a place where we are good. And we like to feel good. 

As a result, the pew-sitting experience must appeal to us feeling good. It’s why so many of us show up and sit down in the pew. It’s as though we say “Don’t challenge us too hard or you may lose us.” After all, as consumers, we can always choose another product or, pun intended, service. One with more bells and whistles that satisfy our desires.

And this can instill an ignorance of or passivity toward the broader challenges within our world and from our faith.

WHERE JESUS WORKS

Dysfunction. It is where humanity clashes up against itself. It is where Jesus went.

Jesus, who was fully God—one of God the Father, God the Son, God the Spirit—became fully man as well. He became an individual human. Yet he eschewed any of individuality’s sustenance, and the need to be comfortable, celebrated, or agreed with. He went down into The Good Friday of our dysfunction. The dysfunction of cultural and political clashing. The dysfunction of inequities and lack of hope. The dysfunction of life and death.

He shared and showed how we should exist within The Good Friday. But there were many who wanted more than that. Many wanted a way out of the The Good Friday; an overturning king with a sword; a preacher who agreed with their position; a politician who supported their individual rights and beliefs. Because that’s what our individual and consumer selves want isn’t it?

So we sit in a pew on Sunday and desire to be in Easter here and now. But we’re in The Good Friday. 

We must realize this. That Easter, while accomplished, is not the now. We must pursue The Good Friday. It is the place of accomplishment. It is where lives are changed, systems challenged, tables overturned, healing comes, relations restored, bridges constructed, palms waved, feet washed. It is where faith lives. It is the hard place. It is the wandering wilderness. The desert land. The dysfunction.

When Jesus went into The Good Friday, he healed the sick, went to the margins, challenged powers, corrected his followers. He gave, shared, ate, cleaned, laughed, cried, empathized, understood. He set his self aside. He knew the reality of Easter, but his faith and his work was in The Good Friday. 

And it is within The Good Friday that his time on earth was lived. Where it was actualized. Where it was fully executed. 

And he affirmed so with his words, “It is finished.”

RACE IS NOW A THING….AT LEAST FOR US WHITE FOLK

“Diversity in the church matters more than ever.” 

This was a headline in Relevant Magazine in 2016. And while it’s 2019, Relevant is leading-edge in pushing thoughts around faith, particularly in white evangelical circles and churches. So for many, this is a new and challenging topic to struggle with and try to understand what to do with it.

We wrestle with an ethnically, culturally, and generationally shifting world. It challenges so many of our status quos and historical faith practices. We are ignorant to so much, yet for many white Christians who desire to follow Jesus, our hearts and our faith compel us into this space of race. 

We desire to invest ourselves in the conversation. We want to understand and own up to our ignorance and miscues. We want to learn what we don’t know. We want to right this wrong. But we need to understand what we are entering into.

We need to recognize that means entering into The Good Friday.

OUR WORLD TODAY

The same place Jesus entered into.

Today we see the same vitriolic political dialogue, religious posturing, ethnic misrepresentation and misunderstanding, the poor the rich, the need of intervention of Spirit, peace, and love as Jesus’ days on earth. To live here and now as one devoted to Christ, it requires harnessing the same Spirit that Jesus possessed and offered upon us through his death and resurrection. It requires us not merely praying Easter but pressing into the depths of The Good Friday.

Yet many of us in the white evangelical community can ignore that we live in The Good Friday if we choose to do so. We can sit in our church pews, earn a solid wage in our jobs, package a nice retirement, follow the ten commandments, and consider ourselves “blessed by God” for following our right plan of faith. We cast our right ballots, set our right example for others to follow, and believe we’re doing our right work for God’s Kingdom come. 

Even when we choose to ignore The Good Friday we feel it’s impact when breast cancer, job loss, a wayward child, or an aging parent disrupts and challenges our faith—our plan. But for those who truly desire to enter into the quest to seek unity in Christ with people of all ethnicities, cultures, generations, and genders—there’s much different work to be done. Disruption must be pursued.

Just as Jesus, empowered by the Spirit, went through the blood, sweat, tears, pain, and denial of himself as he reconciled the world to the Father. If as his followers, if we choose The Good Friday, we are charged to follow his path.

OUR LONG HARD JOURNEY AHEAD

Repent > Repair > Reconcile > Restore

So we are called by Jesus to follow him into this work. For us white folk—especially us older ones—it requires letting go, listening, learning, lamenting, and the greatest of these, loving. The question that demands our response is, are we willing to enter into The Good Friday? Not on our own terms, but Jesus’. 

It is “our terms” that have created a lot of what requires repentance. Things we’ve known as historical facts but mostly things we’ve done from a position of power and control.  

We need to recognize that not only is it so much of our world that needs repair, but it is also much of our perspectives and church practices. 

When Jesus asks us to love our neighbor as ourselves, we need to unpack how we desire to be loved before we can truly offer that to our neighbor. We need to reckon with ourselves and our faith in order to reconcile with our brothers and sisters of color. 

This is where restoration is at work. The self-denying, my-will-removing, least-of-these-doing, mournful, meek, just, peacemaking, heart/soul/mind God-loving, place of work. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven. That is where fully-rewarded reconciliation lies. 

But the right now we are in The Good Friday. And there is a reward here as well if we’re willing to pursue it.

ENTERING IN

“We do not think ourselves into new ways of living, we live ourselves into new ways of thinking.”  - Richard Rohr

“Therefore, brothers and sisters, in view of the mercies of God, I urge you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God; this is your true worship. Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God.” - Romans 12:1-2 [CSV]

Because of what Jesus has done and accomplished are we even able to enter fully into The Good Friday. It is through Christ, empowered by the Spirit that we offer OURSELVES into The Good Friday. Our history, traditions and practices carry with them agenda to fix all of it as we see fit—we cannot stay conformed to these things. Therefore our mindset may need to be tweaked. Our posture and position must be humble. Our ears must be attuned to what we hear from others and from God.

I had originally penned this about a year ago, but thought it was quite relevant for today. And HERE is a link to a Facebook Live that I’d had with Pastor Isaiah Robertson of Macedonia Baptist church where we discussed this essay. If you care to watch it, please be patient as there were technical issues in the beginning, so you may want to fast forward util around 2:10

2nd Quarter

We're weeks into Covid-19 and in many regards, we are getting our behinds handed to us. Deaths are mounting, fears are increasing, supplies are scarce, and many are concerned as to the days ahead. It seems we're on the losing end of much right now.

I've been involved in a lot of conversation and my own considerations as to what we as people and society become from this. How do we pivot, how do we change, what becomes the new normal? I wrote a blog post last week about some of this as well. But recently I've been thinking about football.

For most football fans, we've all likely seen our team get manhandled by another team. For Atlanta Falcon fans, in particular, it holds a sour note from Super Bowl LI. For those unfamiliar, the game was seemingly in the hands of the Falcons who had a 21-3 advantage going into halftime. I'd imagine many of the New England Patriots players were questioning their teammates, the play calling, even themselves as to why this was going so poorly. This was an unusual situation for such a winning team as the Pats, so for some, it was probably pretty easy to cast blame or doubt.

But that all changed as the Patriots regrouped at halftime and came out of the locker room having made adjustments to their scheme. The Pats then turned the tables in what was perhaps one of the biggest turnarounds in Super Bowl history to come back and win. Even at the beginning of the 3rd quarter, the Falcons scored a touchdown to lead 28-3. But then things shifted and the Patriots responded with 25 unanswered points and an eventual overtime win. I was thinking of this type of game and the situation we're in with Covid-19 right now.

Metaphorically, it seems like we're in the beginnings of a 2nd-quarter ass-kicking. And humanity is on the wrong side of the competition. We are in many regards getting killed by our opponent. The score is mounting up against us and we are responding as a team on its heels. We are pointing fingers at our coaches. We are questioning the play-calling. Some of our favorite players are injured and we're not sure what'll happen. And we are examining our own performance. There is so much unknown right now, and the score keeps racking up against us. We are trying to simply survive and figure things out that might impact our opposition's momentum. Some seem to show a bit of promise. Others not so much. 

We look to be in the beginnings of the 2nd quarter with Covid-19. We anticipate more scoring against us, but we've got to keep in the game. We've got to keep trying. And when this 2nd quarter is finally over, we can then head into the locker room to examine what were some things that had been working, or at least showed promise. We can study what we've learned by looking at the play of our opposition? And most notably, what halftime adjustments should be made by our team, Humanity, that we should put into play as we exit the locker room and run out onto the field of play once again.

So let's keep in the game. Let's keep our antennae up as to what we're observing, trying out, learning about ourselves, our teammates, our coaches, and the actual game itself. Let's grab hold of each small success so that as we regroup and figure out our revised game plan, we'll be a better team as a result.

Press Pause

OUR CURRENT NEW WORLD

We in the U.S. are a few weeks into the Covid-19 pandemic. It has brought us into a new day and age globally, nationally, and locally. From the tragedy of death to the dilemma of social-distance, we are discovering new normals.

Hospitals and care-workers are at or beyond their maximum capacity. The greatest generation is held captive at home, school doors are shut, jobs are disappearing, businesses are closing, and for many, meals are at a shortage. The economy is reeling, and payments are pending.

We’ve all seen the media-managed conversations and commands, and as is typical today, we don’t fully know who to believe, but mostly we want to know who to blame.

I saw a social post a bit ago that shared how in lieu of social distancing and isolation, air pollution is clearing over China and the canals of Venice are seeing marine life that had abandoned its waterways for some time. Its as though mother earth is asking for a sabbath from us. Perhaps she's right to do so.

But what should we ask ourselves amid this sabbath?

A NEW SUNDAY MORNING

Many churches have forgone gathering on Sunday morning, and are turning to online mechanisms. For smaller existing churches with fewer resources and less tech-savvy, this is new territory. For many younger, tech-savvier, churches of financial means, who’ve been delivering online content for a while, this is not a notable shift, but simply a concentrated effort. 

These new Sunday realities are causes for concern for a lot of churches as they face the same realities of mainstream businesses—wrestling with dollars, salaries, people, and performance. All the while trying to be a place of love, refuge, and support for those who sit in their pews or live outside their doors. You know...church things.

So what do churches do with this sabbath from church-as-usual? Should they examine their practices, their products, their procedures? Is it a time to shift from organization to organism? Is it a time to revisit a role in society that has been replaced?

Perhaps so.

And not just those older ones, but the newer experience-first churches as well. Is this a time to revisit foundational roots and not merely achieve well-branded success?

Perhaps so.

A FAITH LIVED OUT

And what about the churchgoers, the Christians, is this a new faith-place too? For a long long time, followers of Jesus from economically, racially, and culturally-advantaged spaces have been able to live out a faith that is pretty rewarded. Outside of disruptors like job loss or a wayward child, faith is relatively easy. We hold onto our politically-positioned and agenda-driven theology, which allows us to have a fine lifestyle—our proof point to validate a "correct" faith. 

But is a faith that is relatively easy the robust true faith that Jesus calls us to?

Perhaps not.

In this time today, our faith is tested. We are challenged with actually having to have faith. To tightly grasp onto it through this unknown time and timeframe. We are told to be anxious for nothing but to let our requests be known to God. 

Yet fear arises...at least for me.

But scripture teems with encouragements. Consider the lilies, the birds of the air, the shepherd to the sheep, the fear nots. We've got to hold onto these hopes and beliefs of our faith, and not the assuredness of our positions, postures, or pocketbooks.

Is a faith that requires difficulty to muster the faith we're actually supposed to have?

Perhaps so.

Preaching is Practiced

…El Paso…Dayton…next….

It has been argued that people don’t “practice what they preach.” This is in so many regards a wrong statement. The reality is we ARE practicing what we preach. And this vitriolic argument that defends laws and perspectives while there is so much death. Is it a semi-automatic weapon or is it not? What did the founding fathers mean when they wrote the amendment? Isn’t it really the Democrats fault? Should people speak our language? Should they go back to where they came from? “I could stand In the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose any voters.“ This is what we are. A people practicing what we preach.

Perhaps in the past, we could’ve said the opposite—that we do not practice what we preached. Our history is full of words that return void or dreadfully counter to what’d been said. But now, the void is filled. Now they are not counter.

There are divisive messages from leaders that produce divisive result. There are benign messages from pulpits that produce benign result. Preaching is practiced.

Who are your “preachers?” We must be mindful of the words we take in and the words (or worse) that we submit into the world as a result. Do we challenge those voices that speak into us? Do we educate ourselves from voices that are different than ours? Do we recognize the return from our own voice?

I am grieved. God help us.

Ourself Love

There seems to be a mutual agreement, both inside and outside of Christianity as to the “golden rule.” Or as Jesus shared as the second component to the greatest commandment, that we "should love our neighbor as we love ourself.

For some Christians, there seems to be a default response to this. Well, at least the beginning of this statement.

When we think about loving our neighbor, it seems rather simple. We may have to forgo some of our time, but it typically expresses itself as kindness, helping someone out, opening doors, mowing some grass, bringing a lasagna. And in other cases we do things like say hello to our neighbors, pray for them, and ask them to come to our church. But do we really consider the “as ourself?”

Do we really unpack how we want to be loved?

I think of how I hope to be loved. It looks a lot like this:

• I hope to be listened to and heard, not just answered

• I hope to be guided, and not taught a lesson

• I hope to have my ignorance allowed, and then graciously educated

• I hope to be able to have shortcomings and receive forgiveness

• I hope to be allowed to challenge someone’s thinking, and not be attacked for doing so

• I hope to be lifted up when I have fallen short

• I hope to be cared for, and not merely receive charity

• I hope to be able to fail, and receive another chance…and then another

• I hope to understand why you think the way you do and have you return the favor to me

• I hope to grasp your experience, and not rely solely on mine

Of course, within the greatest commandment, we are instructed to honor the Lord thy God with all of thy heart, soul, and mind—first. Perhaps that is the only way we are truly able to love our neighbor as ourself. But imagine what could happen if we took time to fully consider the “as ourself” What if we loved our neighbor—every created human—from the place we want to be loved?

And when Jesus was asked “Who is my neighbor?” he told a story that extended it way beyond our comfort zone. Way beyond people just like us. Way beyond those who believe like us, vote like us, and live like us.

Ceasar's or God's

I have seen a few people post this video on social media as of late. Essentially it is a statement about who is more racist, the Democrats or the Republicans. It covers off on how the proverbial liberal media, Hollywood elite, and general leftists call the Republicans, the POTUS, and every one of that ilk “racists.” The video then says that the Republicans aren’t racist, the Democrats are. And covers off on which President of which party did what and when. So there. They’re the real racists, not us.

This debate is all over Twitter, in coffee shops, on sidewalks, and elsewhere, from representatives of both sides of the aisle. It can become policy arguments as to which programs might benefit communities of color the best. And there are different points of view dependent upon the positional beliefs or life experiences of the speaker.

Herein lies a larger problem. Particularly for those of us who declare ourselves “Christian.” Many of us have taken the role of politics or political programs as the means to resolve issues, or to define our position on issues. And worse yet, the more we lean on them, they can define us and our faith in the process.

This identifies one of the unique opportunities for (and perhaps failures of) "the church"—the body of believers—the followers of Jesus. I believe we have for far too long left systemic issues of all kinds in the hands of the officials we put into positions. People who we really don't know, and who have proven over time to be politically or economically handcuffed. Do we really think folks in D.C. can or should accomplish this work?

As Jesus said in the good book, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; and to God the things that are God’s.” Much of "the church” has not done so. We have put so much of our responsibilities to “love one another,” to “feed sheep,” to “follow me,” into the hands of our "Ceasars.” It is high time that we—the followers of Jesus—do the hard work that we (many of us in the affluent and/or majority culture) have relegated to politics and positions, or quite frankly—when we are not directly impacted—to others outside of our community to resolve. The work of the people—those of us sitting in the pews—needs to be taken into our own hands. Or better yet, follow the lead of those currently doing this work.

Now, I am not saying that we shouldn’t pay attention to the issues put in front of our elected officials to help our states and our nation, or that we shouldn’t consider our positional understanding or beliefs. But are the words (or videos) we share or the activities we go about merely following suit of these leanings and not those of Jesus?

Do they embody who we are as children of God—have they branded our Christianity?

Racism and in particular, racially developed systems are uniquely a part of the American narrative and reality. Many of us don't know what we don't know when it comes to this. Now I am no expert on either side of this issue (well, maybe a bit more expert on the white side), but we all probably realize that it is indeed “a thing.” For some a lot more than others—and has been for a long time. We need to open our ears, our curiosities, and our time regarding this racial state of affairs. And this may, in turn, open more than our mouths and may shift our linear votes.

Sure there is probably a broad brush component to all of the above. And sure, there probably are some people reading this who believe they are doing the right thing with their votes or are doing good work in this space. But I merely ask that you/we start first by realizing that we may not have it all concluded. That there is a lot more at play. And that many of us have a lot more we can learn.

But mostly, pew-sitters, we should explore and contemplate this issue and all others, to see who we are rendering them unto—"Ceasar" or God.

Too Much Easter

It is an interesting time within the Christian church and faith. Particularly here in the U.S. as cultural and generational shifts are seemingly swaying more greatly than ever before. The politicization of Christianity; the opinions as to our posture and how we should behave as we walk the earth alongside fellow humans; the systemic issues of a racialized society; the chasm between the haves and have-nots; the arguments that we're great, aren’t great, were great once, or could be great again; have us in vitriolic divide. And many only leave it up to their votes, their statements, or to others to address these issues. And exist isolated within their individualisms.

You see, we have become (and probably always have been) consumers in and of life. Seeking the quick fix, the ease, and the matching opinions that will satisfy our own. As a result, many of our churches have developed facilities, programs, and messages that appease this context. Products that will present a nice message that may slightly challenge us, but nevertheless make us feel rather nice. Products that agree with our life and mindset so we can go and tell others to follow my suit. Products that may bring insight, thought, and feeling, but mostly allow us to move along my merry way.

The church offers too much Easter.

Early in the Bible it shares about how all that God created was “good.” Then humanity said “no” to God in the garden and became no longer good. Then Jesus came to earth for us, died for us, and allowed us to be good in God’s eyes once more. Simple as that. Easter makes it good again. And we like that. We can easily grab hold of Easter. It appeals so nicely to our sensibilities. Atonement. Redemption. Getting us to a place where we are good. And we like good. It makes us feel good.

So our church experience must appeal to us feeling good. It’s what makes us show up in the pew. "Don’t challenge me too hard or you may lose me." After all, as a consumer, I can always choose another product or, pun intended, service. One with more bells and whistles to satisfy my desires.

I had a conversation with a friend the other day who was telling me about a church she attends. She shared that the majority of the pastors came from the therapy space. And that she was a bit astounded at the transparency of dysfunction they shared from up front in the church. It was unusual to her, but she found it beautiful.

Dysfunction. It is where hard work sits. It is where humanity clashes up against itself. It is where Jesus went.

Jesus, who was fully God—one of God the Father, God the Son, God the Spirit—became fully man as well. He became individual. Yet he eschewed any of individuality’s sustenance, and the need to be comfortable, celebrated, or agreed with. He went down into "the Good Friday” of our dysfunction. He shared and showed how we should exist within the Good Friday. But there were many who wanted more than that. Many wanted a way out of the Good Friday; an overturning king with a sword; a preacher who agreed with their position; a politician who supported their individual rights and beliefs. Because that’s what our individual and consumer selves want isn’t it?

So we sit in a pew on Sunday and desire to be in the Easter here—now. But we are in the Good Friday.

We must realize this. That the Easter, while accomplished, is not the now. We must pursue the Good Friday—our Good Friday. It is the place of accomplishment. It is where lives are changed, systems challenged, tables overturned, healing comes, relations restored, bridges constructed, palms waved, feet washed, and where faith lives. And it is a hard place. It is the wandering wilderness. The desert land.

When Jesus went into the Good Friday, he healed the sick, went to the margins, challenged powers, corrected his followers. He gave, shared, ate, cleaned, laughed, cried, empathized, understood. He set his self aside. He had the faith of the Easter, but his work was in the Good Friday.

And it is within the Good Friday that his time on earth was lived Where it was actualized. Where it was fully executed.

And he affirmed so with his words “It is finished.”

The Great Submission

“Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” – Matthew 28:19

Referred to as “The Great Commission,” this is the charge of Jesus from his last days on earth (one of those days after His days back here after leaving the planet for few).

These are notable words from Him. If you believe in this savior Jesus, this is a charge we are to keep, right? Jesus also charged us with words like “Follow me.” And when He was asked what the greatest commandment was, He replied with another charge that it was to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind,” and to “Love your neighbor as yourself.” And there are myriad charges/responses throughout the bible like, “Judge not,” “Feed my sheep,” and many more. All of these are words that require our response through acknowledgment, understanding, and a choice to submit to them or not.

Perhaps there is significance as to this being Jesus’ last charge, and as a result, I’ve seen in many churches and Christian organizations where this “Great Commission” is taken as foremost, and forefront. Interestingly, a pastor once shared with me that he believes the Christian church has placed this “Great Commission” ahead of the “greatest commandment” when considering those two charges specifically. This might speak to what at the very least is a matter of sequencing, but moreover, I believe it is a matter of being.

A disciple (according to Merriam-Webster) is one who accepts and assists in spreading the doctrines of another. And specific to Christianity, as one of the twelve in the inner circle of Christ's followers according to the Gospel accounts. Essentially, one of those people Jesus asked to follow Him and tried to do it. So let's consider it a follower of Jesus that tells other people about Him. But if we consider the whole of charges from Jesus, there is SO much more to it. It comes to this matter of being—the substance of who we truly are.

When churches or Christian organizations put this priority on disciple-making vs. disciple-being, things can get a bit squirrely. As a result, this often takes the form of classes that are designed to help us map out the processes and procedures, or how-tos of disciple-making, which can sometimes leave class attendees with a compulsion to “make” a disciple. Then an actual person can quickly be made someone's homework assignment, creating an unnatural, agenda-based relationship and drives updates on progress to the group back at church.

I saw a tweet today from @rfossum that said: “'The Church' should concern itself less with the task of making Disciples, and rather the process of being Disciples. Disciples beget Disciples.” which I couldn’t agree with more (okay, that’s my tweet, so perhaps I’m a bit biased). This articulates some of what can arise when a charge of Jesus’ is singled out from the entirety of His words, His existence, and His example, and can prove problematic to actually sharing Jesus’ story of pointing to or demonstrating His unconditional and sacrificial love. 

Disciple-making, when seen as a task, can become a goal to attain, a belt to notch. We should constantly be examining our hearts and activities against Jesus’ entirety. Or we can become merely trainers, apologists, or experts. From this position words like “piety” or “hypocrisy” can quickly enter into our character. And Jesus talked about that too and said that when these types of things enter into our being, He might say “I never knew you.” Yikes!

So, if we concentrate our souls and minds to submit to this entirety of Jesus, we may actually live a life that actually does share Jesus’ story, and point to or demonstrate His unconditional and sacrificial love. And as we go, this Great Commission thing might make a few strides forward too.

Unfinished Business

“A work is finished when an artist realizes his intentions.” - Rembrandt

I have a friend named John who is an artist. He’s been painting for quite some time and is also accomplished in art restoration. We have coffee together and talk about life, faith, relationships, and a lot about art. We were talking the other day about the proverbial plight of the artist. Art is an interesting thing when you are the artist. It is work that extends from your soul and at some point, you put it out into the universe for all to see. And in many instances, judge its value. Determine its meaning. Like or dislike it. Understand it or not. Or maybe even pay for it. But in all cases, the door is open to comment and critique.

This is some of what the artist faces. Their time, work, craft, heart, and belief go into the art. Those who have picked up their brush and gone to the canvas are doing more than painting a picture, they are releasing their art into the world—for the world to inspect and evaluate on their terms. This is key to the work.

The release.

My son is in the performing arts. A few years ago, I took the opportunity to participate in a production of The Sound of Music with him and his fellow performers. I had a small part as Franz the Butler. This was new territory for me. I stressed over lines. Awed at the aptitude and professionalism of the other actors. Attended rehearsals and did my best. One of the most interesting times was during one of the final rehearsals. I was sitting backstage with some of my fellow thespians (well, they a lot more thespian than I), and I made the comment that “You guys never actually get to see the performance, do you?”. To which one of them replied, “Welcome to performing arts.” They never get to actually see the show. They just get out there and do it.

In our lives, we can get bogged down with the performance. What it looks like, or what the audience will think. We may be confident in our art/ourselves, but a bit uneasy as to its reception, and therefore we might keep it behind the curtain. But our art/ourselves is what matters, not the critique.

There is an art to this thing called faith. God is a creator. He has created us all to be artists. We are to pick up our brush and go to work. To pour ourselves into our art and release it to the world. Christian Dior said, “A woman’s perfume tells more about her than her handwriting.” We are to be a perfume in the world, not perfect handwriting. We are to provide a sweet aroma that uniquely stems from our created self, not a perfected performance that we think the world, and a lot of times the church, wants to see.

God has released the art of us into the world, as unfinished as we may be—and we are to do likewise. Our work—ourselves—are deserved of release. Whether we consider it finished or not. Whether we think our voice will be well received. Whether we think our church would approve. Whether we’re as studied as we think we should be. It’s about faith—in our Creator and who He’s created.

The artist can always stay in the studio. Perfecting the work. Adding more blues. Rethinking the steps. Fearing the audience's reaction. But there comes a time of commitment from the artist. The gallery show is scheduled. The curtain opens. The art is released.

Into something beyond.

There’s a great quote I recently read from C.S. Lewis that reads “I think all Christians would agree with me if I said that though Christianity seems at first to be all about morality, all about duties and rules and guilt and virtue, yet it leads you on, out of all that, into something beyond.”

Jesus didn’t stay in the studio and determine and debate his audience's receptivity. He didn’t concern himself with the words and positions of the church’s “art critics.” He didn't worry about abiding by cultural and political norms. He concerned himself with as Lewis’ “something beyond” and asks us to do the same. Releasing yourself releases art.

Getting Blessed

“I woke up in the morning feeling fresh to death. I'm so blessed, yes yes. I went to sleep stressed, woke up refreshed. I'm so blessed, yeah yes. Water in my face and everything is in its place. Peace of mind even my grace. I'm so blessed, yes yes yes.” lyrics from Blessed, by Jill Scott

I was listening to Jonathan Merritt’s Podcast Seekers and Speakers in which he and author Kate Bowler were exploring the word “Blessed.” and the word’s current and often over-use. They zeroed in on social media’s #blessed, and its myriad attributions to things like financial gains, beach vacations, and lattes. In addition, they spoke of the prosperity gospel that is preached from the pulpits of guys like Joel Osteen, where you can live your best life now, and it looks like gain within the constructs of this world—money, jobs, etc. Conversely, they also touched upon the thought that if you don’t have these gains, are you then “not blessed.”? And what it might feel like to see these “blessings” touted in public when you have not acheived that defined occurrence of blessing. As is usually the case with Merritt, it was compelling dialogue.

I’ve come across this “blessedness” on many occasions, particularly within my professional life. I’ve heard companies and Christians talk about how God has blessed their businesses after a good year. Or someone has been blessed with a job. I am confident the words have come out of my mouth as well. But now I’m not so sure if that is a blessing or the effect of a cause—like talent, hard work, a good marketplace, a good story, etc. I understand attributing all things to God, but perhaps these are more “thank yous.” Or maybe even environmental fortunes or effort-induced results. God only knows.                                                                                               

But what did Jesus think about “blessed?” What did it look like in His eyes and heart?

One of the first recorded times that Jesus spoke what might have been a sermon, was when he was on a mountain and talking to a lot of people. Matthew 5 begins with His list of blessings. These seem quite at odds with those often hashtagged.

He said:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.”

Definitely not about a silky cappuccino or a pair of New Balances.

What He called blessed is about a state of affairs. A way of walking within the world in and among others. An essenced behavior as you live your life in The Spirit. It is a challenge to what our current culture deems good, and uncovers truth behind what it deems bad. It is the ever-motivated pursuit of the love of God and for His creation. Jesus speaks of an interesting paradigm of “blessed”. Something that our world would tell us is not a blessing is indeed so. But it seems as though it’s a delayed blessing, and that we have to wait on our reward. While, this cause and effect approach makes sense, I believe it is much more. Blessing is ever-present and amid it all. It’s the bloodline through the “Blessed ares” and the “for they wills.” It really is a state of affairs—our state amid our affairs alongside our Father. Blessing may simply and majestically God himself.

I’m a dad. I know that my blessings are my children, not what they do, or have, or can give me, but I am blessed with them as themselves, and blessed by their relationship to me. And while I provide, counsel, and support my kids, I believe for each them, my blessing to them is me.

As Jill Scott sings, “Peace of mind even my grace.” Our mind, our love, our grace in this place—wherever or whatever it is. This is where we are blessed, with God, not from Him.

What's My Line?

“If you don’t vote for Barack Obama in this next election, I am going to question our friendship.”

That was stated by one of my closest friends about six or so years ago. I thought to myself, “Wait, what?” This statement came from someone I love, respect, and have been mentored by over the course of many years. Someone with whom I’ve spent countless evenings in rich conversation. And as a people-pleaser and peacemaker, it knocked me for a loop. I didn’t know what to do with it. How could this person qualify all that we’d built in our relationship down to one defining measurement? I love him, and he loves me. I was at a loss.

I spent the next 24+ hours exploring the differences between Barack and Mitt. I dug deep into the issues, statements, and positions. In those days, I religiously towed the Republican line, so this was a major challenge to that line.

He and I got together shortly thereafter and I shared my thoughts. He then said, “I don’t care who you vote for, I just wanted to make sure you put forth the effort and thought through it.”

My line—my status quo had been challenged. And I was the better for it.

But as Christians, what about our faith? How sure of it are we? I’m not talking about the foundational components of the Christian faith. Jesus as Son of God. A crucifixion. A resurrection. And new life with the Spirit. I am talking about the other stuff. Our norm. Our line. How status quo are we?

Jesus asked questions like “Who do you say that I am?”. We can answer that one, right? But what about those questions that should stretch us beyond our line? Questions like “What do you seek?”, “Where is your faith?”, or “Do you love me?”. If we unpack His ask, those are not easy questions to answer.

“What do you seek?” - In seeking Jesus’, do we answer “You and God the Father.” and read our Bibles to learn more about Him, or do we run onto the open water and discover more of Him?

“Where is your faith?” - In locating our faith, do we answer “in God” and go about our plans, or do we allow ourselves to step off of the path and venture into new places that challenge our current thinking and reveal the design of walking with God in the cool of the day?

“Do you love me?” - In answering Him, do we reply, “You know I love you.”, or do we really feed His sheep—His, not ours—and examine what it is it that we are actually feeding them.

I was in a bible study and the facilitator posed the question, “What have we been redeemed from?”. Someone answered “I will probably be the first to say what everyone else is thinking. I have been redeemed from my sin.” I thought yes, of course, that is a cosmic fact in the Christian faith. It is a foundational and marvelous need met between us and a holy God. But to his answer, I replied, “Yes, we have been redeemed from sin, but what have we been redeemed INTO?” What is this relationship we now have with God moving forward? There is so much more that began in the days AFTER the cross. What comes with all of that? Do we limit it?

Now, I am risk averse. I don’t like it. I am often self-serving. I can worry and be fearful with the best of them. But when it comes to God, I am learning that it is on the waters, the off-plan events, the time with more of His sheep, that I find more of Him. And while I may find some answers, additional questions unlock. I am learning to find more beauty. A beauty that lives outside of a defined faith.

I can recall as a young boy looking at National Geographic magazines and seeing people from places all over the world. People with myriad skin tones, adornments, and attire. They were beautiful. But not to me then, because I knew what beauty looked like—through my eyes. But it WAS beauty to those in a world I was unfamiliar with. I just didn’t realize it. I am growing to appreciate that beauty lies beyond the eyes of the beholder.

When it comes to our faith, how willing are we to go beyond what is familiar—our line? And will we become less about merely (or aggressively) holding onto that line? Is our faith found, or will we go discover more beauty that which comes within the finding?

Of Privilege and Fragility

“They say it takes poverty to let you love a toy.” - Widespread Panic

I grew up in what was arguably one of the most privileged places in the world. My hometown of Darien was one of the wealthiest small towns in Connecticut. It was a commuter town and many of its residents took the train into New York City for Wall Street jobs or otherwise. Realtors were exclusionary to whom they sold homes to (wink). Our school system would bring students in from urban cities around the U.S. through a program called A Better Chance (ABC) to give them opportune access to our well supported public education system. The young women in the ABC program shared housing and went to school together. I don’t know of any successes or failures of the ABC program because frankly at the time it was way off of my radar as were many other things. In Darien, parents were wealthy. Many of their offspring ran amok through keg parties, sailing school, Vermont ski trips and the like. Oddly, privilege was something I knew nothing about, yet all the while fully immersed within it. It was my norm. I was blind to it.

Fast forward to today.

There is a lot of conversation around "white privilege." And I have it. I was born into it. Reared within it. And now live with its implications. Through the years, within many experiences, and benefiting from the perspective of many relationships I realize that I am no longer able to be blind to it. As I look back, I can see how its access and its forgiveness has played a role in my life. It is my norm. In addition to my own story, I’ve heard many podcasts, interviews, broadcasts, etc., that have pulled off my rosy tinted glasses to an undeniable truth. My truth. My existence.

Through my years, this privilege (and you can add “white male” to the front of it) is something that I have taken advantage of. I am sure some has come willfully, without the intent of malice, but surely for my own gain, and I fully believe often unwittingly.

A recognition of this privilege has given me pause to try to see things differently. To listen more intently. To confess more vocally. It has given me a desire to seek more equity. And in instances speak truth into positional power and its status quo.

And there is a brother to privilege, and his name is Fragility.

A while ago, I had the opportunity to travel around the U.S. with a friend and colleague who is a cultural anthropologist. She is a brilliant and vocal woman who along our journey gave me the gift of perspective and honesty, and spoke to my blind spots. I was thirsty for the insight, but it was like drinking out of a fire hose. Often it left me staring at the ceiling in my hotel bed thinking. It has greatly impacted me.

You see, when you are in a position of privilege, you don’t like to be challenged. Privilege makes you “right.” And privilege can make “wrong” almost a non-option. But when our veil is pulled away, we become quite fragile to the honesty of sight. It is uncomfortable as it challenges the truths that are based upon our context.

But what about when it comes to faith. Moreover, the evangelical white male-driven understanding, and application of the Christian faith. Do we go about it with the same privilege and fragility? Do we let light shine into our blind spots? Or do we merely defend the sole perspective of “our faith”?

I recently was in a conversation about living a Christian life of faith and this guy said “It’s easy. You just follow the Ten Commandments.” You see, privilege makes this easy. Privilege says that if you do this list of things, all will be well.

But “easy” is not the case for many (I don’t believe “easy” to be the case whatsoever, but that’s a conversation for another day). Even if it were as such, there are many who would agree to this charge and pursue "the Ten", but it does not come with the results of “all will be well.” Now you can get all theological (read “fragile”) with me, and talk about eternity and such when it comes to "all will be well," but what I am talking about is the here and now. This life on earth that we live with other people.

While a "privileged faith" may hold truths, it is not fully true. It is our take. Our rules based on our experience. And often, it can be rather pleasant, full of vacations, jogging, church on Sundays, and “men's breakfasts.” But don't we want more?

Just as we need to come to grips with privilege and fragility within this position in our culture today, we need to do the same if we hold a "privileged faith". We need to embrace a challenge, and allow our fragile exteriors to be marred.

I love this quote from Twyla Tharp. “Our ability to grow is directly proportional to an ability to entertain the uncomfortable.” So if we hold a "privileged faith," let’s entertain this discomfort. It is how our faith grows.

The Other Side of Empathy

Empathy is perhaps one of God's greatest gifts. "Empathy" is defined by Merriam-Webster (MW) as "the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner." Or as Dr. Bruné Brown defines it, "me too." I love how MW defines it as "the action." It's not a feeling, or belief, rather something that takes hold of us in an activity or response. But Brown's brief definition captures it well. It is discovering a connection way beyond sympathy or belief. It is experiential and lived.

As I continue to understand empathy and the beauty of its meaning in my life, I realize that it is not something that just happens. We don't merely "happen to have empathy." It takes discovery, communication, and relationship. An effort which allows us to get to the point of Brown's "me too." Empathy comes from an education of sorts. We can't have empathy with a person until we have learned about them first. Then understand how it agrees with what we know about ourself. We have something to learn from every person we meet, and empathy allows for a more profound human kinship.

When we've built an empathetic understanding and relationship with people who may be different than we are—be it gender, ethnicity, race, socio-economic or political position, etc.—we connect on a more human level. A level that can overcome differences. And the "me too" becomes a bridge. It allows a relationship to move to a different place. When we experience an empathetic impact, it can tighten a bond or cause a disturbance. Sometimes both.

The disturbance received from empathy is interesting. What do we do when we newly discover a sameness, or "me too" with someone vastly different? 

This brings us to the other side of empathy. The place where we must turn any new-found understanding, compassion, opinion, or position, and place it between us and our own mirror. Does this mirror-view, through the lens of empathy, bring about any change to myself? Does it cause me to evaluate my opinions and beliefs? Perhaps not to change them, but realize them differently, or reprioritize them a bit?

When I consider Jesus, he physically experienced a cosmic empathy as God becoming man. As a man, He could understand our ways and means, our fears, pains, joys, and laughters. But He knew there was a grand meaning to His cosmic empathetic experience. And as a result, he said things like "Forgive them for they don't know what they do.", and things about loving everyone—everyone, and not throwing stones at people. He even said we would do better things than He did. And then He died on our behalf.

So if our community or relationships bring us to the point of empathy with another person, let's press pause and let it disturb us a bit. Because there is more than "me too," there is also a "so now what?"

Go Fly a Kite

I celebrated a birthday yesterday, and it has me a bit nostalgic, so if you'll indulge an older guy on a bit of a soapbox (well, I guess it's my blog, right?), let's head back in time a bit.

When I was in fourth grade, I walked to the front of a Nicky Cruz rally and accepted Jesus. Nicky was a former leader of the Mau Maus, a hard-charging, violent street gang in NYC. He was pursued by a preacher named David Wilkerson who told him about Jesus. Long story short, after many conversations, Nicky realizes who this Jesus is and how He could impact his life, so he dedicates his life to pursue Him.

From the stage, this former gang leader shared his story of violence, fights, adversaries, overcoming obstacles and redemption. This is a story which a young guy would clearly find compelling. So after speaking for a while, Nicky asked if anyone wanted to walk to the front and join him on a faith journey. And, I got out of my chair and said, "I'm in." 

That was a lifetime ago.

To bring the past 40-plus years to a quick sentence or two: I'd spent a lot of time in church youth groups, sowing my oats both inside and outside the church walls, I became an adult, a professional, a husband, a father, tried and failed at much, and done some good too I hope. All the while realizing that there is so much to life. And much more to come. Particularly when it comes to faith. The more time I spend with my feet on the planet, the more I continue to learn that faith is an organic experience. It is indeed mysterious. A million-fold more mysterious than the allure of Cruz's story that put me to my feet and drew me toward Jesus. Jesus is a mysterious person. God is a mysterious Father. And His Spirit breathes mystery into His children.

This mystery has been lost.

I believe many Christians have lost sight of mystery. And many churches and Christian institutions have as well. Perhaps that's a driving force for many mysteryless Christians—their reliance on the church and organizations to provide it for them—but that's another story I touched on in another blogpost.  I digress.

Through the years I have grown to see this enigmatic faith become a system of checks and balances—things to do and not do. I've prescribed it within my own life, observed its execution in the lives of others, and seen it saturated within Christian content. There are countless books, classes, sermons, that tell his how we become a "better" Christian Dad/Mom/Professional/Fillintheblank. Or a not-so-favorite of mine, how to "disciple" other people (as though another person is a class project). Don't get me wrong; there is a lot of great, wonderfully-hearted, mystery-grasping people out there who share a faith that is vivid and alive. But if I take a broad brush look at this faith, it has become politicized, americanized, strategized, and perhaps worst—it has become defined.

We have become Professors.

Professors who argue a lot. Yet, on many occasions, Jesus talks about how this is not what it's like to follow Him. He talks about hiding things from the wise. He says that we should be like kids to even begin to understand what this Christian faith is like or who God is. I don't think he means like a child tethered to a desk, but rather a child flying a kite—wondering about the wind and what it looks like from way up there. And Jesus also hung out, and ate and drank with normal people. Not because he had a recruitment plan, but because he loved them. And I imagine He found them a lot more interesting than those professorial church-types.

Now please don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that theological study, debate, or learning and training is a bad thing. But when we lose the childlike qualities, we lose so much more. When faith becomes a puzzle that we are resolving, I think we miss the mark.

Faith is a mystery, not a puzzle. 

While a puzzle can be fun, when it comes to faith, we've got to go back to the fear and excitement of childhood continually. We've got to stay out of the "classroom" and play in the field. Hiding and seeking. Wandering and getting lost. Running and skinning our knees. Holding our arms out with no hands on grips, as our balance steers our bike. And flying our kites in the wind.

Note to self, Rick. Read this a year from now and see how you're doing.