Give him the jet; We made him

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Recently, several news networks carried the story of a Louisiana preacher named Jesse Duplantis who made a video appeal to his followers to help him raise $54 million dollars to purchase a new private jet (Thanks to my friend Heather for posting this story and bringing it to my attention). You can watch his full video here. According to Duplantis, the jet is necessary because his current jet is unable to go anywhere in the world on a single tank of fuel, whereas the new jet can. Therefore, being able to hop anywhere in the world "in one stop" will enable him to "preach the gospel all over the world" for cheaper.

Immediately after publishing the video, negative and critical comments started flooding in (rightfully so), enough that Duplantis appeared personally on news stations and even issued a second video on his website to defend himself.

We really shouldn't be surprised at the apparent greed of powerful men and the gullibility of their followers. Such realities have always existed both inside and outside the church. Selfish appeals from televangelists are also nothing new. Yet, while it's easy to condemn and criticize hucksters like Duplantis (and such criticisms are deserved), I couldn't help but wonder if we should go ahead and buy him his jet. After all, we are the ones responsible for his appeal.

Duplantis and his ilk do not arise out of a vacuum. The represent many of the values American Christianity and evangelicalism has come to extol, whether consciously or unconsciously.

First, American Christianity has always mirrored society in creating celebrity cults. Such celebrity worship is obvious in the broader culture. A perfect example is the recent multi-day hullabaloo over Roseanne Barr's racist tweet that led to her show getting cancelled. While an unfortunate reminder that racism is still very prevalent today, it was ridiculous how much airtime a single tweet received. Even more ridiculous was the fact that many respected news outlets talked about how the President of United States finally "broke his silence" about the tweet and the show's cancellation (as if the President has nothing better to do than weigh in on celebrity gossip and network lineups). The focus was not really about racism, but about the celebrity.

Sadly, the church is no different. We fill stadiums to witness the spectacle of preachers like Billy Graham, Joel Olsteen, Matt Chandler, Beth Moore, Rob Bell and countless others. Congregations are no longer satisfied with small communities, but must become "mega-churches" centered around a charismatic, well-groomed (often male) celebrity preacher. The best selling books in Christian bookstores are (not incidentally) written by pastors of said mega churches. Our worship leaders get major records deals and utilize the newest, hottest instruments, sound boards, and lights to give us spectacle worthy of U2 or Coldplay. We love our holy celebrities and are willing to pamper them like the kings and queens we believe they are. As such, we really have no right to critique Duplantis for acting like a celebrity when much of the country treats their own pastors the same way.

Second, American Christianity has implicitly taught that sharing the Gospel is the pastor/preacher's job. From the get-go, Duplantis assumes he needs a jet because he assumes it is his job to go across the world personally and speak about the "gospel." Sadly, such a perspective really should reflect a failure of his ministry more than a success in some ways. If his ministry were actually changing lives, then the fruit of that life change would be thousands or millions of folks who are also taking the Gospel into their own communities all around the world. He would not need to frantically fly all over the place. After all, Jesus only preached in a tiny square of the world, but his message is now reaching the ends of the earth because He created real, lasting, transformative change in His disciples.

However, before we criticize Duplantis, we must recognize that most of our churches operate in the same manner. It is the preacher's job to teach and preach, and our job to sit passively and absorb. We are instructed to "bring our friends" to worship services so they can hear the Gospel. Our pastors are seen as religious professionals and experts who do the "real work" of ministry. But this is not how it should be. A pastor's job is to equip the congregation to be the church in its community. Every member is a minister. As long as we continue to view our own pastors as the primary evangelist, teacher, and discipler, then we might as well support Duplantis in his effort to get a new jet because our ecclesiology supports his need to personally travel the world to accomplish his work.

Finally, American evangelicalsim believes in the same truncated gospel as Duplantis. Consistent in Duplantis' request is the idea that "the gospel" is all about "saving souls" in a spiritual sense. While the plan of salvation is certainly good news and of utmost importance, it is not identical to "the Gospel," at least not the one Jesus preached.

In short, the "Gospel" is the good news that the history of Israel is now fulfilled in the life, work, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus Christ who is bringing His Kingdom to earth. This good news includes the plan of salvation, but is not limited to it. Implied in the gospel Jesus and His disciples preached is a demand to participate in God's Kingdom here and now, which means also working in physical, tangible realities, not simply abstract, spiritual truths. "Good news" means taking care of the poor and oppressed, standing up for truth and justice, and imagining creative ways to tell the story of God in our communities. It means confronting both the personal, invisible sins within each of us that keep us separated from God and confronting the societal, visible sins that alienate all of us from the good life God created in the beginning.

A $54 million jet has rightly been condemned as a wasteful expense when the same money could benefit so many other ministries who are proclaiming the gospel in more holistic ways. How many hungry children could we feed in our communities with that money? How many expecting mothers could we house who are debating abortion because of financial fears? How many Bibles could we print? How many water wells could we drill? How many foreign missionaries already embedded in foreign countries could we support?

But, maybe we don't deserve to ask those questions because many of us believe in the same gospel as Duplantis. We believe in a gospel which says the only thing that matters is getting people to "believe" and say a prayer. All that matters is "winning souls." If that is our gospel, then of course it makes perfect sense to send a man all around the world, pack stadiums and parks full of as many people as you can, and use lights and emotional music to prompt them to come to the altar. I'm sure you can efficiently rack up a ton of "decisions" with a private jet.

So, why not? It may seem crass, but his request may be an honest presentation of our biggest faults we hide under the rug as American Christians. So, let's buy him his jet. He might be more effective than us at fulfilling our own vision of church and the gospel after all.

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American Violence & Political Discourse

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This past week, comedian Kathy Griffin received much criticism and lost numerous business contracts due to a video she posted of her holding up a fake severed head made in the likeness of Donald Trump.  Many people on both the political Right and Left (rightfully) condemned Griffin's actions. Trump himself tweeted about how the images were disturbing to his children, especially his 11-year old son.

Kathy Griffin and Donald Trump

However, for anyone paying attention, much of this criticism seems a bit hypocritical because Griffin's video is merely the symptom of a larger problem in our society. Were the images Griffin posted offensive and disgusting? Definitely. But, it's also disgusting how often we tolerate such violence on behalf of our political party or our nation.

The truth is violence has always been embedded in American culture. Our nation was forged in the fires of violent revolution, and ever since then we have found ways to sacralize the myth of redemptive violence. We even have national holidays that strip away the ugliest parts of war and serve the public a cleaner version of "honor" and "valor." Looking at our history, we not only spend the most of any nation on our military (more than the next 8 nations combined or about 37% of the world's total military spending), but our country has also been at war for 224 of our 241 years of existence. We truly are a military-warrior nation.

But violence not only permeates the national stage, it also infects our homes. In American, 1 out of 4 women and 1 in 7 men will experience severe physical violence from an intimate partner or loved one at some point in their lives. Furthermore, this is not just a problem for any single demographic. Domestic violence cuts across all demographic markers--rich/poor, all ethnicities and races, urban/rural, educated/uneducated.

We even see violence infecting the world of sports. Much good work has been done recently on sports and the "warrior culture" within athletics that often fosters violence. Athletes, especially males, approach games as "battles," wear UnderArmour, and celebrate hyper-masculinity. Fans likewise get into the action wearing body paint like warriors, organizing themselves into tribes, and cheering on the events below. Some sports, such as football and hockey, have violence inherently built into the game. And who doesn't love to see a good hit or tackle in these sports? Sure, we might criticize the Romans for their gladiatorial games, but is the heart of our celebrations of violence in our arenas (and the insane amount of money we throw at them) really all that different simply because it's less bloody?

The point is, we cultivate a culture of violence everyday. We could go on to mention other examples. Violent video games, violent movies, violent language, gun culture, news that highlights murders and terrorism. This is the air we breathe and the water we drink.

So, it's no surprise that violence has infected our political rhetoric as well. Kathy Griffin was not the first, but simply the most recent example. Some of Griffin's most fervent critics were Trump's own supporters. However, there's a certain hypocrisy in this as these same individuals often tolerated (and sometimes endorsed) the violent discourse used by Trump during his candidacy. Trump frequently talked about assaulting protesters, argued we should kill even the wives and children of terrorists, and had to deal with a video where he bragged about sexual assault. Trump's violent rhetoric has spurred violence among some of his supporters as well, with one judge even stating Trump may be partially to blame for violence at his rallies.

And Trump isn't the only politician to talk about or use violence in recent months. During the campaign season, Joe Biden made remarks about wanting to "take [Trump] behind the gym," an allusion to physical violence not all that different from Trump's drooling over the "good 'ole days" when you could "just punch" someone you didn't like. Just late last month, a Republican congressional candidate was cited for assaulting a reporter just a day before the election. And yet, such violence did not seem to bother voters as he still managed to win his congressional seat. Likewise, following Trump's victory in November, a number of anti-Trump protesters started violent riots.

As we examine the use of violence in our political discourse, it's evident that violence is a problem for both sides of the aisle. This is because violence begets more violence. We see this phenomenon over and over. Police brutality and violence spurs violent riots. Wars against terrorism fuels more terroristic extremism. As Jesus said, "Those who live by the sword, die by the sword."

But, an interesting fact is that such violence in political discourse is not altogether new. Despite the fact that many feel like our country and our politics are going up in flames, the truth is we've always had violence in our politics. As mentioned earlier, our country's very inception was in violent revolution and rhetoric. And, throughout American history, our politics and political figures have always been marred by assaults and assassinations. We've even fought a war among ourselves over political differences.

In 1856, Senator Preston Brooks assaulted Sen. Charles Sumner in the U.S. Senate building.

Why is this? I suspect it is for the reasons given above--that we are a culture surrounded by violence and in love with violence. Such violence tends to become more extreme when we also throw in the forces of political polarization and hyper-masculinity/patriarchalism, but the seeds of violence are always there because it's embedded in our culture's DNA.

For Christians, this should be disconcerting as followers of a man who preached "blessed are the peacemakers" and who demonstrated that the way to overcome evil is not through utilizing violence, but through compassionate sacrifice.

To overcome this culture of a violent political discourse, Christians cannot wait on their politicians. We must start this work themselves. We must begin to replace the myth of redemptive violence with the truth of sacrificial love. We must listen more to the values of the Kingdom of God rather than to the values of the nation of America. We must heed the words of peace from our Lord and Savior, rather than the siren call of strength and power offered by our culture.

Calling out the violence of the "other side" is not good enough and often just feeds polarization. We must be willing to also name violence within our own tribe and party. And even harder, we must be willing to take a hard look at our own lives and confess the ways in which we participate, tolerate, and advocate violence in our day to day routines. Most of us don't assault others, but we do all fetishize violence in various forms, benefit from war, have misaligned concepts of "justice," use violence or aggressive language, and otherwise allow violence to sneak into our lives in countless other ways. Until God's people can learn to be a "people of peace" and teach others to do the same, we will continue to see (and support) a violence political discourse.

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Baptism and Racism

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I recently started reading Jim Wallis' newest book "America's Original Sin: Racism, White Privilege, and the Bridge to a New America." I'm only part way through it, but so far there has been lots of good food for thought for white Christians and white churches who often neglect issues of race in our liturgy and worship, preferring to pretend that racism is a "political issue" not a "faith issue."

However, early on, there is one quote that jumped out at me. In the opening chapter, Wallis writes:
"The political and economic problems of race are ultimately rooted in a theological problem. The churches have too often "baptized" us into our racial divisions, instead of understanding how our authentic baptism unites us above and beyond our racial identities."

I think Wallis is onto something here. In American Christianity, particularly the white evangelical variety, we tend to preach and adhere to what Scot McKnight calls the "soterian (or 'salvation') gospel." The "gospel" that gets preached from our pulpits is that you are a sinner, Jesus died for your sins, and so you must believe these truths and put your faith in Jesus and you will be saved from hell and death. Frequently this gospel is also accompanied by a gnostic over-emphasis on heaven as the final destination of the saved, rather than an emphasis on bodily resurrection.

As McKnight and others point out, this "soterian gospel" ends up being extremely individualistic. The "Gospel" is good news for me. Jesus died for my sins. The point of Jesus' life and death was so I could get into heaven. Even within more Reformed traditions that point back to God's glory as the purpose for His actions, the center of the narrative still remains focused on God's actions for individuals.

To bring this back to Wallis' quote, if we are believing an individualized gospel, then it naturally flows that we are also practicing individualistic baptisms. In most baptism services I have seen, the focus of the moment is almost always on the personal profession of faith and the salvation of the one being baptized. Don't get me wrong, that focus is good, but it's incomplete.

Usually absent from modern baptisms is any language of being baptized into a community or of entrance into a new kingdom and people that crosses cultures, race, and language. This is unfortunate because the early church understood this concept.

Certainly, such an individualistic gospel and baptism will cause (and is causing) countless theological and practical problems for our churches, but I had never really made the connection between this watered-down baptism (pun not intended) and racial problems we face within the church. This is likely because of my own white privilege. For us white Christians, we simply don't think about race and racism enough and so it's natural never to ever bring such communal aspects into our baptismal liturgies. But, we would if we were paying attention to the Gospel found in the New Testament and to the modern realities around us.

There's good evidence to suggest that Paul's words on baptism and community in Gal. 3:26-29 were actually part of an early baptismal liturgy used during baptisms. In contrast, we reduce the baptism moment into only a celebration of that individual and their own personal salvation. But what would it look like if we used language similar to Gal 3?

"For you are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus. For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free man, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s descendants, heirs according to promise." (Gal. 3:26-29)

For the early church, baptism was less about a symbol of personal conversion to a religious or psychological belief. It was more about an initiation into an entirely new people, culture, and society. Being submitted under the water was not just a symbol of death to sin (as we commonly approach it). It was a ritual depicting death to one's entire old way of life, including one's cultural, racial, and social identities. All those old identities were washed away and you were raised up into Abraham's family, into the people of God. Imagine what it would look like if we recaptured that essence? What if we too disposed and repented of our racial, cultural, and national identities at baptism and allowed ourselves to truly take on a new identity in Christ?

It's no secret that, as Dr. Martin Luther King used to say, that Sunday morning is "the most segregated hour in this nation." Perhaps one reason for this is because the gospel we preach and baptize into falls short of the gospel and baptism of the New Testament. Central to the Bible's Gospel is the fact that Jesus is the fulfillment of the story of Israel, and that He is creating for Himself a new people drawn from every tongue, tribe, and nation.

Paul reiterates this Gospel truth in many of his writings, including when he writes in 1 Corinthians:

"For even as the body is one and yet has many members, and all the members of the body, though they are many, are one body, so also is Christ. For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, whether slaves or free, and we were all made to drink of one Spirit....But God has so composed the body, giving more abundant honor to that member which lacked, so that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it. Now you are Christ’s body, and individually members of it." (1 Cor. 12:12-13, 24-27)

Central to our baptism is the truth that all other identities are submerged beneath our identity in Christ. We are no longer defined by nationality, gender, race, language, or social status. We are all part of Christ. Perhaps if the Church in America could better grasp and preach this communal truth from both the pulpit and the baptismal, then maybe the Church could be the one to finally lead our country toward the racial equality and healing we so desperately need.

In the words of William Stringfellow, "The issue here [of racism] is not equality among human beings, but unity among human beings....The issue is baptism. The issue is the unity of all humanity wrought by God in the life and work of Christ. Baptism is the sacrament of that unity."

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A Christian Politic- Part 2

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Yesterday I wrote about the theological foundations of my political views. Today I want to speak more on why I see a need to bring my faith to bear on my politics in such a dense manner. As I briefly mentioned yesterday, a huge mistake I see my fellow Christians making is not bringing their faith to bear on "political issues." Or more precisely, not doing so in any consistent manner.

One of the most glaring examples of this inconsistency is the usage of the term "pro-life." The term has been used almost exclusively to refer to the abortion debate. Most evangelical Christians describe themselves (and rightly so) as "pro-life" because they seek to defend the innocent lives of unborn children who are killed everyday by abortions. I have no problem with this as I too believe life begins at conception.

However, the problem arises when those same Christians advocate policies that are decidedly "anti-life." The most obvious example is the frequent support of some Christians for the death penalty. Is it really possible to claim to be "pro-life" when you are simultaneously "pro-death"? This is further complicated when we consider that in most cases the death penalty does not save any innocent lives compared to life in prison. Research has shown that the death penalty is not an effective deterrent for violence, and the offender generally does not pose any more serious threat to society being locked up for life than being executed.

Another example of this inconsistency of applying "biblical principles" is the fact that some issues constantly get biblical treatment (abortion, gay marriage, religious freedom), whereas other political issues can be discussed at length by Christians without any reference to Scripture of faith (gun rights/control, immigration, war and diplomacy, poverty, economics, etc.) To that point, some Christians will say the difference between the two sets of political issues is that the Bible addresses the former but not the latter. How can we have a discussion informed by faith on topics on which the Bible is silent?

However, this is somewhat misleading. Most of the modern political issues we discuss in light of our faith are really not present in the Bible either. For example, modern democracies with freedom of religion did not exist in biblical times, so strictly speaking, the Bible is silent on religious liberty in the modern sense of the term. Likewise, the Bible does not specifically address abortion. Rather, we look at verses the suggest the dignity of life in the womb and apply those to our modern debate. Even gay marriage is really not in the Bible as the modern concept of a committed, loving relationship based on "same-sex attraction" is a far cry from what the Bible has in mind when it references "homosexuality" (see here for more on that). The truth is we constantly import our modern issues onto the ancient text in ways the original writers never envisioned. This is not a bad thing so long as we are mindful of the original context of the verses we use, but let's not naively (or deceptively) claim that we bring up the Bible for some political issues and not others because those are the only issues the Bible addresses.

A prime example of this is economics. Many Christians will refer to Marx or Keynes or Smith, or refer to ideological concepts like fiscal conservatism, trickle-down economics, etc., but won't broach the topic of Scripture. Ironically, unlike the issues of abortion and same-sex marriage, the Bible actually has tons to say on the topics of economics and poverty. Jim Wallis has famously remarked on how a friend in seminary went through the entire Bible and cut out every single verse about the poor. The resulting Bible was a shredded mess because so much (at least 2,000 verses) had been excised.

It seems to me the real problem is the compartmentalization of our lives. We divide our lives into sectors. There is the work part of my life, the family part of my life, the leisure part of my life, the political part of my life, and then we also have this other fenced-in area--the religious/faith part of my life. Sometimes these sectors may overlap and bump against each other, but we as modern Americans do a good job of keeping each realm separate in our minds.

For instance, a few years ago I posted the following photo on my Facebook page to see how Christians would react:

In my post, I did not advocate for or against gun control, but simply made an observation that Christians rarely bring their faith to bear in this heated debate over firearms in America. Undoubtedly, seeing a picture of Jesus holding a handgun (with a child no less) makes many Christians feel uncomfortable. Now, had the figure been some rustic American man, few would have any issues with the picture. But for some reason, we can't even imagine Jesus in the same frame as a gun.

I suspect the reason this picture is so difficult to swallow is because we as American Christians have separated the gun rights/gun control issue from the sphere of faith. We reason that gun control is not a "religious" issue. Jesus never talked about guns, and neither does the Bible, so Scripture never even crosses our mind. Instead, we rely on arguments about the second amendment, mass shootings, the NRA, self-defense, and the like. Making guns a "religious" debate never even makes it as a blip on our radar.

However, this is artificial compartmentalization at work. I would submit to you that the gun issue is a religious issue because religion touches every part of life for a Christian. Jesus is not the Lord over some small cross-section of life called "religion" or "church." He is Lord over every part of life, including our politics and "secular" debates. That's the point of Jesus' incarnation. Jesus entered into human life, experienced all of human life, and sought to redeem all of human life, not just the "religious" parts. Our faith should be the lens through which we view all of life.

When it comes to guns (and many issues like it), it is a tragedy that so many Christians have never asked questions like "What would Jesus do?"--Would Jesus own a gun? Would he use a gun in self-defense? Would he beat guns into plowshares? Would he serve in the military? Would he hunt? Obviously we cannot answer these questions definitively, and our answers will likely be shaped by our own cultural preconceptions, but we must at least ask the questions. After all, Jesus would have an answer to these questions if He were walking on earth today. Therefore, we too as "little Christs" must attempt to ask and answer these questions in the most Christ-like manner we can.The Bible may not tell us directly if Jesus would own a gun, but we can examine the story of Scripture with an eye on Christian tradition and Christian community to help us to arrive at a reasonable answer.

Here is my point: Christians need to stop being so schizophrenic with our application of our faith to political issues. Even when the Bible does not directly speak to a topic, we can still be informed by its story. We can still elicit values from Christian tradition and the Christian story to assist us in making decisions. I will cover the practical sides of this more in-depth in Part 3.

At this point, I hear some objecting that such an approach would allow Christianity to be easily co-opted by a political ideology. "Mixing faith and politics is not a good idea," they say. I will address this concern specifically in tomorrow's post, but here I'll just mention that I think the concern is overstated.

Although faith being co-opted by political ideology is certainly a risk of my approach, I believe that risk is actually greater when we only apply our faith to politics in a haphazard manner.  Indeed, we already have a problem when evangelical Christians can be considered a reliable support base for one political party. When we only apply our faith to our pet issues, that means some other ideology will fill the gap to guide our decisions on all other topics. We align ourselves with the political party that seems to agree with us on the "religious issues" (abortion, same-sex marriage, religious freedom), but then blindly agree (or are forced to agree by the "lesser of two evils" argument) with that party's platform on all other issues whether the policy proposals are Christ-like or not. The result of dividing life into sacred/secular or religious/non-religious is to doom ourselves to do and say things of which Jesus would never approve.

Furthermore, the reality is you always run the risk of getting your faith hijacked by political ideology any time you engage in the political system. The only way to avoid this is to remove yourself from the system altogether. This is the Anabaptist approach, but I suspect most American Christians feel that not engaging politics at all is irresponsible and a waste of an opportunity God has given us to shape our world through the form of democracy.

However, if we took the view that every action carries religious significance, and that Jesus is Lord over every political issue, then we suddenly find ourselves in a place where we are uneasy with both the Left and the Right. We find ourselves agreeing with one party on one issue, but then prophetically critiquing the same party on a different issue. If we ground our politics in our citizenship in God's Kingdom and approach every issue guided by heaven's politics, then we would actually have a counter-cultural Christian response to the politics of our country.

So as you listen to debates in the coming weeks and decide what candidate and policies to vote for or against, here is my request: Ask yourself how your faith impacts each decision. Use some holy imagination and put Jesus in your shoes. How do you think He would vote? Even if the issue at hand seems far removed from the concerns of a first-century, Jewish man, just remember this--Jesus was a real human who tread real earth in a real culture filled with its own real political complexities. That is the whole point of Jesus' incarnation. God is not some cosmic idea floating transcendent above all our daily concerns. He became a human being and dealt with all the mundane and secular matters we deal with.

Therefore, ask how your faith relates to those seemingly "non-religious" topics. What if our faith does have something to say about economics, immigration, guns, terrorism, climate change, and the like? After all, if Jesus had been born in our country He would have had to decide how to engage our political process as well (or whether to participate at all). There is no issue above or beyond the reach of our faith. All we have to do is ask the right questions.

[In Part 3, I wrap up this series with a post examining the limits of what Scripture can and cannot do (or shouldn't do) when it comes to informing our political decisions.]

A Christian Politic- Part 1

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It's 2016--election year--and countless Christians have been weighing in with their opinions on candidates, policies, and the direction of our democracy for months now. So as this season draws to an end, I figured now would be a good time to offer my philosophy of politics. I try to avoid frequent political posts (although have made more recently since it's an election year), but the following explanation will detail how to understand my perspective when I do make political comments.

Before I explain where my political view comes from, I want to make a quick note about this post's title. I titled it "A Christian Politic," not "THE Christian Politic" because that is all this is--one possible philosophy. There are as many "Christian" approaches to politics as there are Christian denominations, and as much as I believe my perspective best adheres to a Jesus-centered, Bible-informed politic, I leave room for others to disagree and come to different conclusions. I won't claim any monopoly on the truth here.  This explanation will come in three parts (so come back for parts 2 and 3 over the next few days), but in this first post I want to outline the fundamental values of my political perspective.

The first thing that must be noted is that my political views are primarily formed by my faith. This is the foundation. My politics do not begin with a secular ideology (conservatism, libertarianism, progressivism, etc.), but are Christocentric in nature. In other words, you cannot understand my politics without understanding the core tenets of my faith. So, what are those core tenets within my theology?

While I could spend pages and pages trying to detail my theology, I'll try to limit this discussion to the most political of my theological concepts: the "Kingdom of God."  In recent years my faith has been profoundly shaped by the Bible's talk about the "Kingdom of God." This theological concept has radically redefined my ecclesiology, eschatology, and the very language of faith I use. In fact, it has redefined how I view the "Gospel" itself. I tend to follow Scot McKnight in arguing that the "Gospel" is not simply the "plan of salvation" that centers on the cross. Rather, the "Gospel" is the "good news" that God is reclaiming his Lordship over his creation and establishing his Kingdom on earth through the person of Jesus Christ (see McKnight's book "King Jesus Gospel" for a much more detailed explanation).

For those less familiar with this idea, what do I mean by the "Kingdom of God"? Simply put, the "Kingdom of God" refers to the reign of God. It is the space/time where heaven and earth are "married" together (to borrow language from NT Wright).  Or, to wrap this idea in the story of Scripture: God created a good world and ruled over it as King. Humanity was created as His image-bearers to carry out His will in His Kingdom. However, our sin marred this good creation and turned humanity into traitors. Since then, humanity has attempted to bring back this blissful state lost in the Fall, but without success. Israel was chosen as a "kingdom of priests," called to be a outpost declaring the Kingship of God to a fallen world, but they also failed. Jesus is the completion of this story. Jesus, as God, entered our world, preached "the Gospel of the Kingdom" (Lk. 4:43), and was declared King through His death, resurrection, and ascension. King Jesus has defeated sin and evil and has initiated the return of His Kingdom to earth. This Kingdom will be fully consummated one day in the future at Jesus' "appearing" (parousia).

Now all this talk about a "King" and a "Kingdom" is inherently political language and leads to the first major concept of my political view--my primary citizenship is not to America. This seems like quite a backward statement to make for an American political view, but there it is. As Paul succinctly puts it, "our citizenship is in heaven" (Phil. 3:20). This is one reason why I've recently begun to shy away from saying the American pledge of allegiance--it would be a lie for me to do so. To swear "allegiance" is to promise loyalty and devotion to something above all other things. But the truth is I've already sworn my allegiance to another Kingdom, and the values of this Kingdom and of my earthly country will eventually and frequently clash. Yes, I could swear my allegiance to America, but I would be doing so with the knowledge that a time will come when I will choose God's Kingdom over America. Do I love my nation? Yes, but not more than my Lord. Do I want to serve my nation and help it achieve greatness? Yes, but not if it's at the expense of God's Kingdom. I may be a citizen of both countries, but my allegiance can only lie with one.

This tenet of my political view has countless practical implications. Most notably, when I am considering candidates or policies, I am not looking for those options that will best benefit me, or even those that will improve America for America's sake. Rather, I am looking for the people and policies that best reflect the values of God's Kingdom and will help society to better reflect those values as well (more on this below). This does not mean I put my faith in government, nor am I looking for a "Christian nation," but these values nonetheless inform my political decision-making.

The next question becomes, "What are the values of God's Kingdom?" The answers to this question are probably what make my view unique in our current political climate. This question alone could be an entire book, and indeed such books have been written. But for my purposes here, perhaps the shortest way to sum up the Kingdom's values is to point to the two most important events in the Christian story--the Cross and the Resurrection. Let me explain these one at a time.

First, I believe the cross is more than simply a place where our sins were forgiven (although it is that too). The cross is also a powerful call to discipleship. Jesus makes this clear in His command to "take up your cross and follow Me" (Mark 8:34). I also see this mentality all throughout the writings of Paul, but he perhaps best sums up a cross-shaped discipleship in two places--1 Corinthians 1-3 and Philippians 2.

In the first chapters of 1 Corinthians, Paul critiques the Corinthians' tendency to create divisions and idolize certain teachers. To counter their unchristian behavior, Paul goes into a detailed discussion of how God's wisdom and power are revealed in the foolishness and weakness of the cross.  Jesus was ridiculed as foolish, weak, and shameful because of the cross, but we as Christians know that this place of failure was actually one of God's greatest successes. Paul then stresses that Christians ("little Christs") are a people of the cross. If Jesus found wisdom and power in the form of weakness, foolishness, and humility, then we shouldn't rely on worldly "strength" or "wisdom" either. Later in 1 Corinthians this attitude will lead Paul to say we should live by "love" and even be willing to sacrifice our rights for the sake of others. Philippians 2 similarly outlines how we are to have the "same mind" as Jesus. What did Jesus do? He "took the form of a servant" and "made himself nothing" by "becoming obedient" even to the point of death.

Now compare that to our culture and to typical American politics. The goal of our society is to gain more, become more powerful/influential, brag about your strengths, demand your rights, and defeat our enemies. We don't see humility as a strength among politicians. In fact, we condemn our representatives and candidates for "apologizing" for our country. We might talk of wanting politicians to "serve" our country, but what we really want is for them to lead us with power, strength, and might. These same mentalities have led to an extremely polarized political climate. We can't even listen to the other side or EVER admit that any of "their" ideas are good because just giving them the time of day is seen as a "compromise" of our "values." Humility and servanthood are weaknesses.

However, my political view is shaped by the cross. This means I start from a place of humility. I recognize I am no better than my political opponent because I am just as in need of grace as him or her. I also recognize that true strength and wisdom are not defined by the world. They are defined by God, and what God declares is powerful often looks like "weakness" to my culture. What God says is wise often looks "idiotic" or "naive" to onlookers. After all, who would believe that a poor man executed as a traitor could be crowned as King and overcome the evil powers of the world through that execution?

Thus, my cross-shaped politics lead me to seek certain policies and attitudes because I am convinced they are closer to what God's Kingdom looks like. For example, I want to discourage military force in national policy as much as possible not because of some liberal, "bleeding-heart" sentimentality, but rather because I've pledged my allegiance to a King who said "love your enemies" and who died for all people, including foreigners . Or, I am willing for our country to do more for illegal immigrants and refugees because I believe we can afford to suffer and pay a little for the sake of showing compassion to "the least of these." Or, I abstain as much as I can from personal attacks and try to give the person speaking the benefit of the doubt not because I am "wishy-washy" or lack convictions, but rather because a central conviction of mine is to be ruled by humility. These are not easy positions to hold, and they may not always work "practically," but the point is not whether they "work," but whether they are "right" in God's eyes.

The second key event that informs my doctrine of politics is the Resurrection of Jesus. The Resurrection is the pinnacle of Jesus' life on earth. It is the moment when heaven and earth collided in a visceral way. In the Resurrection, Jesus is vindicated as the King over the universe, and God's saving act of bringing heaven to earth is begun. In the Resurrection, the ancient enemy of Death is defeated as Jesus embodies the future of His redeemed world.

This impacts my political view in multiple ways. First, it reminds me that Jesus is my rightful master, and that He sits on the throne above the American kingdom. I sometimes hear Christians say, "At least we can take comfort knowing that Jesus is still on the throne." However, what bugs me about this comment is that people only really say it when something has gone wrong for them: "Well, we didn't get our candidate into office, but at least Jesus is still King." "The government just passed another stupid law, but we know Jesus is still on the throne." It's kind of sad, really. We seem to turn Jesus' eternal Lordship into a personal coping mechanism.

But if we take seriously that Jesus has overcome evil, defeated death, guaranteed that our bodies will also be raised, and promised to bring heaven to earth, then how can Jesus' Kingship not impact us every day of the year?! For me, the knowledge that Jesus reigns drives me to action. If Jesus' Kingdom has broken into our world by way of His life, death, resurrection, and ascension, then my citizenship in that Kingdom means my church and I are "colonies" of that Kingdom. Whether things are going well or poorly, I work to make my world look more like God's as we wait for His appearing.

The Resurrection also informs my politics by giving me hope and security. One of the discouraging things I see in the current presidential race is how often people are driven by fear and anger. However, if I truly believe that Jesus is on the throne, then I have no reason to fear, even when evil seems to run rampant in my world. I also realize that "perfect love drives out fear" (1 Jn. 4:18) because Jesus is alive as King. Even if there are physical or existential threats to my existence, Jesus taught me not to fear those who can destroy the body but not the soul (Mt. 10:28).

So, where does all this leave me? I've certainly given many theological thoughts, but you might be wondering about how all this applies to politics. For starters, I do not believe there should be a wide chasm between theology and politics. I can't compartmentalize my faith (that's the topic of tomorrow's post). It should inform every aspect of my being, including my political side. Now, I may or may not use Christian language in public discourse, and I am certainly not looking to create a theocracy, but my faith cannot be divorced from my politics.

Therefore, when it comes to applying my faith to the political realm, what I try to seek is an approach that transcends parties and ideologies. To return to a theme I mentioned above, I strive after "Kingdom politics." If you ask me if I'm a Republican or Democrat, I will say neither because both sides have their strengths, and both certainly have their weaknesses. My political perspective does not neatly fit into either category.

For example, I consider myself "pro-life" in the sense that I despise abortion and would love to see it end. This tends to line up more with those on the Right (although I have some major differences with many on the Right when it comes to abortion as well). Likewise, I oppose "right-to-die" measures on the same grounds, like many conservatives. On the other hand, I also strongly support care for the poor and ending the death penalty because I am "pro-life." This tends to line up better with liberal platforms. My "pro-life" conviction is derived from my faith, and my faith teaches me that all life has dignity, whether it is in the womb or whether it has sinned beyond what we humans think we can forgive. I must be "pro-life" regarding all life, not just life in the first 9 months.

I personally still believe homosexuality is a sin (like many on the Right), but I also believe gay marriage should be legal (agreeing with those on the Left) since state/civil marriage is fundamentally different than religious marriage. And while some fellow Christians might critique me on this issue or claim I am just "watering down" a "Christian" message or "capitulating to the culture," my reasons for these political beliefs actually have a well-thought out rationale rooted in my faith (check out my thoughts here for a more in depth analysis).

I agree with conservatives that government should be limited, including on the topic of healthcare, but I appreciate Democrats and Obamacare for attempting to make healthcare more accessible to Americans, and particularly to the poor. Both positions come out of my faith which teaches me to recognize the limits and risks of earthly power but also bombards me with countless Scripture verses about caring for the poor and marginalized.

I greatly appreciate the Constitution of the United States and believe it is a crucial document for maintaining freedom in our country, but I would also be willing to go against the Constitution and be called a traitor if that's what it took to follow Jesus. The life of my King is more binding than any human-made document.

When it comes to topics like immigration or terrorism or gun-control, these too are topics that I do not approach as a conservative or liberal. Rather, in each situation I look back to Jesus and seek guidance from His example. I also consider research and science, but the story of Jesus serves as my compass (this will be the subject of Part 3 of this blog series). Sometimes this might mean I agree with liberals, other times I might agree with conservatives. More often than not, it probably means I fall somewhere in the middle.

So there you have it, or at least part of it. Of course my political views are much more nuanced than I can put in a single blog post, but I hope they are counter-cultural. Indeed, even that admission of complexity runs counter to our culture of sound-bytes and stereotypes (this week's Presidential "debate" is a perfect example of the dumbing-down of America's political rhetoric). It's easy to shout down a caricature or denounce a sound byte. But to listen to another person and actually understand all the nuances of their beliefs is difficult. It takes time.

So next time I make a "political" comment, please don't assume you understand where I am coming from unless you are willing to have a lengthy conversation about my religious motivations. You're welcome to disagree with me, but don't try convincing me I'm wrong unless you tie your perspective into your faith as well. And please, please don't stoop down to simplistic, polarized, partisan assumptions and attacks. You might try to accuse me of being a "bleeding-heart liberal" or a "narrow-minded conservative," but you'd likely be wrong. You can certainly feel strongly about your position, but understand that I also feel strongly about mine and that I have spent a great deal of time coming to my conclusions.

As I wrap up, I want to make two requests of you this election season if you are a Christian. First, try evaluating your political convictions in light of your religious convictions. And don't just stop at the tired, old issues--abortion, religious freedom, same-sex marriage, etc. Rather, re-examine ALL the issues. What does your faith have to say about gun-control, the death penalty, war and diplomacy, poverty, economics,  immigration, and other topics? I won't demand you come to the same conclusions as me, but I will ask that you at least ask the question.

The last request is to maintain civility and an open-mind during this election season. It's too easy to follow the siren-call of anger, personal attacks, and stereotypes, but these do nothing to advance truth. They only make everyone angry. If you really do care for our country and really do care about the truth, then perhaps the best thing you can do is shut up and listen to perspectives which differ from yours. You can't judge a position unless you thoroughly understand it, and you'll never understand it if you never truly listen to it. You never know, you may have to change your views. Maybe you'll even agree with me...

(Want to keep reading? Check out Part 2 and Part 3 of this series.)

What if Kaepernick had been Tebow?

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I confess, I am tired. I'm tired of the ongoing racial arguments that continue to spin in circles. I'm not saying these conversations don't need to happen--they do. But I'm tired of the ignorant, knee-jerk yelling that often takes place. I'm tired of people plugging their ears and refusing to listen to other opinions. I'm tired of the countless memes and diatribes white folk put out there that surely make my black friends and peers shake their heads.

I've avoided jumping into discussions about race in the past few months for this very reason, and perhaps I should apologize to my black friends, former students, and co-workers for not speaking out. But this time there are just too many notable points for me to ignore.

On Friday night, 49ers quarterback, Colin Kaepernick, protested the continuing "oppression" of African Americans in the U.S. by refusing to stand for the National Anthem. While quite a few praised his actions, countless other heaped ridicule upon him. Social media lit up with angry and critical memes such as these:

There's also no shortage of videos and articles mocking and attacking Kaepernick's protest. These arguments mainly attack his person and character: Kaepernick is "spoiled," is rich, is "half-black" and therefore is disqualified from speaking about oppression. He's a second-rate quarterback. Sitting down is not "doing anything" meaningful. He's never served in the military.

Even worse, I've seen many arguments that he is protesting an "imaginary" oppression. One video even flat out states that "there is no oppression." Such arguments inevitably go on to discuss how the NFL is 70% black, how we have a black president and congressmen, and how more white people are killed by police than blacks. If you can prove that equality exists, then you also discredit Kaepernick.

At the end of the day, Kaepernick committed 2 "sins." First, he challenged the claims of American nationalism. Second, he challenged white privilege. Combine these two sins, and the inevitable outcome was for adversity to come his way.

However, for me, I can't help but wonder which of these two is really driving people's angst. Is it his seeming "disrespect" for the American flag and anthem, or his claims about oppression of people of color? This led to a thought experiment.

What if it had been Tim Tebow who had protested the flag? What if Tebow had tuned into some stray Anabaptist vibe Friday night and decided to sit during the national anthem? What if after the game he linked his actions to abortion? Imagine if Tebow did this and said something like: "I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that kills the unborn and calls this acceptable." I wonder what the reaction would have been, particularly from white Christians.

This is a tough questions to answer, but I have a good feeling that white Christians would have responded quite differently. I suspect one of two things would have happened. If this scenario had taken place, I suspect white Christians would have only criticized Tebow for dishonoring the flag or not criticized him at all. I highly doubt many Christians would have taken issue with Tebow's critique of abortion.

But here lies the problem if that scernario actually took place--it reveals a deep hypocrisy and moral shortsightedness among white Christians. If we go with the first outcome (attacking Tebow's lack of patriotism), then we should pay attention to our Anabaptist brothers and sisters who point out that such unwavering belief and allegiance to any nation is dangerously close to idolatry. However, if the second outcome had happened (Christians take no issue at all with Tebow but support him), that reveals our problem is not really with patriotism, but with our refusal to acknowledge racism.

However, this scenario is even more damning for us white Christians when we think about it because BOTH likely outcomes reveal a lack of concern about racism. The truth is we would support Tebow's critique of abortion even if we disagreed with his means. You would NEVER see statements from conservatives or white Christians trying to discredit Tebow for attacking abortion, even if he did so in defiance of nationalism.

You would never see memes declaring that "abortion is not a problem," or "Tebow is not a real American hero," or "Tebow is rich and spoiled [and therefore knows nothing about the realities of abortion.]" You might see some left-wing memes assert things like this, but certainly not from conservatives or most white Christians.

This thought experiment reveals that the vitriol directed against Kaepernick is not just due to a passionate patriotism, it's also due to a lack of concern about racism among whites. And that's a problem..

It's a problem because RACISM DOES EXIST. Sure, it may not exist is the same overt, violent forms as 50, 100, or 200 years ago, but it sure as hell exists today (and I'm no universalist when it comes to hell).

Yes, we have a black President, but how many white Presidents were there before him? How many racist attacks have been slung at him in 8 years? And remind me how getting a black President magically made all racism in this country disappear.

Yes, there are many African-Americans in the NFL and in Congress, but in how many countless other professions are they underrepresented and underpaid ? How many times has a black man been passed over for a job because of an unconscious bias and fear of black men in the minds of many whites?

Yes more white people are killed by cops, but there are also a heck of a lot more white people in this country than black people. When you look at the same stats proportionally, black men are more likely to be killed than whites, and that's a fact.

Yet, one of the big problems I see in all of these conversations is that, in the absence of "legal" racism, we have created our own form of segregation as whites remove themselves from all areas of black life. We moved out of the cities, we refuse to integrate our churches, and we formed nice subdivisions away from poverty and diversity. But this has the nasty effect of blinding us. How many white individuals complaining about Kaepernick have more than 2 or 3 close black friends (or have any at all)? How many of them go to church at a place that has more than 1 or 2 black families (if any at all)? How many of them have shut their mouths for a minute to ask a black friend their honest thoughts and opinions about #BlackLivesMatter or Kaepernick or anything along those lines? I suspect not many.


For me, I tend to operate with the default assumption that, as a white male, I have NO RIGHT to criticize a person of color when they point out oppression or racism. I recognize that I have benefited from centuries of white privilege and from a history that has silenced voices of color. As such, I recognize that it's time white males like me just shut up and listen, even if it's uncomfortable. We've done enough talking over the years, it's time for other voices.

I've been blessed to live for the past 6 years in a city that is 45% African-American, and to have worked with numerous black teens, seminary students, and co-workers, and to have several black friends. And here's what I've seen and heard as I've listened.

I've seen firsthand black teens have racial slurs hurled at them. My wife was once told by a white church member that the church needed "more white kids." I've seen how racism continues to devastate an entire city through white flight. I've witnessed a school garner a bad reputation for little more than the fact that less than 5% of that school is white.

I've talked with fellow seminarians who've experienced discrimination from others, including from law enforcement. One fellow student once related how he was stopped by white officers in a parking lot while he was waiting in his car for a bookstore to open so he could buy a textbook. No good reason was given by the officers for this inconvenience. Sadly, ask about any black male and they can easily relate multiple such stories.

I've also listened as many whites equate being black with being poor (which itself is a racist oversimplification of reality), but then never think to ask about what systemic problems may exist that keep so many people of color financially depressed.

Both my wife and I have occasionally been the target of what some might call "reverse racism"--the tendency of some persons of color to be hateful towards white people simply because they are white. Although it's certainly uncomfortable for me, I don't get upset and I certainly don't use those incidents to justify by own racist tendencies. Instead, I wonder how much hate and racism that person has experienced in their life to conclude that all white people are bad. But then again, as I reflect on history, I could very easily come to the same conclusion if I were in their shoes.

So, don't tell me that racism doesn't exist today. Don't tell me that there's no oppression. I've seen too much of it, and I'm not even someone who has to live through it.

As we think about and respond to Kaepernick, I hope my fellow white people, especially those who claim to follow Christ, will shut up for a few minutes and humbly listen to a different perspective. And as Kaepernick looks to continue his protest, let's think seriously about what we are truly upset about. Are we really upset simply because he refuses to stand during the national anthem, or would we be less upset if he linked it with a cause we cared about?

If we conclude that we'd be less upset if he'd pick a different cause, then we must also conclude that he is "sitting" against us, because we've become the oppressors.

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"But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it." 1 Cor. 12:24-26

"To the flag..."

I remember attending Vacation Bible School as a kid and reciting the 3 core pledges good Christian kids were supposed to learn. Remembering these pledges wasn't a problem for me because I also knew them from Wednesday night children's activities at my church. These pledges were the Pledge to the American flag, the pledge to the Christian flag, and the pledge to the Bible (in that order).

Recently I found myself thinking back to those pledges, and in particular to the Christian flag itself. I was driving to work last week and saw a flag pole with both the American and Texas flags flying on it. Of course, in accordance to the US Flag Code, the American flag was flying above the Texas flag. Yet for some reason, I found myself thinking about the Christian flag instead of the Texas flag. In particular, I began thinking about how the Christian flag is (and is not) flown next to the American flag. This also got me wondering about the history of the Christian flag. How did it come about? So, I did a little research.

The Christian flag was developed in America. This should come as no surprise given the color scheme. It was first proposed in 1897 by Charles C. Overton in New York. Overton was selected to fill in as teacher when the guest speaker for his church's Sunday School hour failed to show up. Looking at the American flag, he began to talk about flags and symbolism. At some point in his lesson, he suggested it would be a good idea to have a flag to represent all Christians. Apparently this idea stuck in his mind as he designed such a flag and presented it the following week. By 1907, Overton had partnered with Ralph Diffendorfer, secretary to the Methodist Young People's Missionary Movement, to promote his creation. Within a few years, Methodist pastor Lynn Harold Hough had written the first pledge to the Christian flag. The flag and pledge gained such popularity within churches that they continue to be used today.

One of the interesting conundrums that the creation of this flag has posed, though, is how to fly it in relation to the American flag. As noted above, the US Flag Code states, "No other flag or pennant should be placed above or, if on the same level, to the right of the flag of the United States of America." Exceptions are not even made for the U.N. flag or for other "international" flags:

"No person shall display the flag of the United Nations or any other national or international flag equal, above, or in a position of superior prominence or honor to, or in place of, the flag of the United States at any place within the United States or any Territory or possession thereof."1

 However, many Christians have not felt comfortable flying the American flag above the Christian flag. To do so seems to be saying that America is more important than God's Kingdom, and surely that isn't right. At the same time, most Christians also feel very uncomfortable placing the American flag in the secondary position. To illustrate my point, take a look at the following photo:

What was your gut reaction? If you consider yourself patriotic to any degree, there was probably a part of you that thought, "Wait, the stars and stripes should be at the top!"

And the truth is, most Americans agree. In fact, the above is not even a real photo. I could not find a picture on Google with the Christian flag flying above the American flag. I had to Photoshop this picture. The closest you ever find to the above picture are the two flags standing side-by-side at equal height. (The exception to this is on naval ships where sailors are allowed to fly a church pennant above the American flag to signal that the ship is currently holding chapel services. But this a different flag and is probably more to signal to other ships that the crew is not in combat mode and should not be fired upon according to the Geneva Convention.)

The side-by-side solution has become normative. We set both flags in stands of equal height in the sanctuary (the side each flag gets may depend on the particular congregation). At VBS we say BOTH the pledge to the American flag and the pledge to the Christian flag. Churches will invest in a second flag pole to fly the flags side by side (or they will just refrain from flying the Christian flag). We want to say, "Yes, we are fully American, and we are fully Christian."

But the great problem of all of this is that sometimes being an American butts up against being a Christian. Indeed, in recent years I've wondered about the language of our pledges. It seems increasingly odd to pledge one's "allegiance" to one government, and then pledge your "allegiance" to another Kingdom in the next breath. Yes there is such a thing as dual-citizenship, but eventually that breaks down.

I have several relatives who were born oversees in England, Spain, and Germany. I myself was almost born in Germany. And yet, since the parents were American citizens, my relatives became dual citizens. But, dual citizens eventually have to choose. After a certain amount of time, many countries will revoke your citizenship if you fail to live there, or they will make you choose which citizenship you want to use. Even if you are allowed to retain both citizenships, if the two countries ever came into conflict, you would have to choose a side. If the two countries went to war, you can't serve both militaries without being called a traitor in both places.

The word "allegiance" means "loyalty," "devotion," or "obligation." When we pledge "allegiance," we are vowing to give our complete loyalty.  Is it possible to promise your complete allegiance to two different entities and governments? I seem to remember someone once warning against trying to "serve two masters." And the uncomfortable truth is that the Kingdom of God (and yes, "Kingdom" is a political word) often clashes with the Kingdom of America. When push comes to shove, where will our allegiance be?

At the end of the day, I'm not particularly fond of the Christian flag anyway. Personally, if we are going to have a flag to represent the Kingdom of God I'd like to see something a lot more stylish. Maybe a lion or a lamb, or a crown or something. Or at least pick some different colors besides red, white, and blue. But, that's neither here nor there. My point is that we already have a plethora of symbols for God's Kingdom. Whenever we break the bread and drink the wine we are reminded of the dynamics of God's Kingdom. The gathered Body of Christ is a signpost of this truth. Whenever we gather together as the church, we proclaim that we belong to God's Kingdom, not primarily to the Kingdom of America. Our everyday mission and ministry should also be a testimony of our heavenly citizenship.

But I do appreciate the Christian flag for at least one reason--it (should) force us to think about allegiances, citizenship, and treason. It places the conflict of Kingdoms onto symbolic cloths for our eyes to wrestle with. It demands we have uncomfortable discussions about how our culture and government impact us and sometimes blind us to the commands of God.

How do you fly these two flags together? American on top, Christian on top, side-by-side, no Christian, no American, no flags at all? I can't answer that for you. However, one thing the Bible does make abundantly clear is that our primary calling as Christians is to God and His Kingdom--a Kingdom that transcends national boundaries and binds Americans, Iraqis, Israelis, Russians, Chinese, Mexicans, and countless others together. That is where my citizenship lies.

" For, as I have often told you before and now tell you again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven." Phil. 3:18-20a