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.)

September 12th

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Yesterday, our nation marked the 15th anniversary of September 11th, arguably the worst national tragedy since Pearl Harbor.  Across the country memorial services remembered the lives lost and the heroic acts of bravery. Since September 11th fell on a Sunday this year, many church congregations also joined in the remembrances or had patriotic services.

During many of these services and memorials, as well as on social media, we saw and heard the refrain that we must "Never Forget" 9/11. Now, if we take that sentiment seriously, the task of remembering 9/11 and the accompanying lessons begins today--Sept. 12th. After all, with any holiday or remembrance, the temptation is to forget and move on starting the following day.

However, the challenge with all of this is that the patriotic anthem of "Never Forget" is a bit more ambiguous about what we should remember. At the surface level, we obviously are to remember the event itself, but below the surface many other statements also ask to be believed and remembered. Intertwined with these memorials, we are invited to believe many possible messages: America is the greatest nation ever; America deserves our allegiance; Islamic terrorists should be destroyed; Muslims are evil; an eye for an eye; we need a strong military... On and on the list could go.

However, I think one message we actually should take away from this concerns the topic of Evil. No one will disagree that 9/11 was an "evil" day. The loss of nearly 3,000 innocent lives can be described in no other way than as "evil." But we as Americans have a strained relationship with the concept of "evil."

On the one hand, we often live our lives as if evil does not exist in our world in any significant way. This is largely due to the enormous amounts of security, stability, and prosperity we enjoy here in America. We don't go to work worrying about whether or not our family will be safe at home or if we will make it home from work. We are wealthier than the vast majority of the world. We live under a government that grants us countless freedoms and is far less tainted by corruption than most other counties. This is partly why the events of 9/11 were so shocking. We were not used to encountering evil, and suddenly evil came busting down our front door to stare us in the face.

On the other hand, we are sometimes too quick to use the label of "evil." In the aftermath of 9/11, our politicians, pastors, and pundits rushed to label the terrorists "evil," to call the nations associated with terrorism "evil," to describe an "axis of evil," and in some cases to identify Islam itself as an "evil" religion. Outside of dealing with terrorism, we thrown around the term "evil" in many other careless ways. We label opposing political parties and candidates as "evil" or speak of voting "for the lesser of two evils."

I suspect these two tendencies are related. We live a privileged life divorced from many of the harsher evils that run rampant in our world and are therefore shocked when a powerful evil strikes us. Likewise, since we are often shielded from horrific evils, we are confused about how to rightly apply the label and either attach it to everything we see or flippantly apply it to people or programs with whom we simply disagree. Unfortunately, such an aversion to and discomfort with evil results in poor decision making when true evil rears its ugly head in our midst.

This is perhaps one of the most important lessons we can take away from 9/11. In the aftermath of the terrorist attacks, the nation was brimming over with powerful emotions--fear, anger, a desire for revenge. Out of this emotional milieu, President Bush declared a "war on terror" a mere 9 days after the attacks, covert troops were inserted in Afghanistan 15 days after the attacks, and bombings and a formal invasion of another nation were initiated less than a month after 9/11.

Although some good came out of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq (such as greater freedom and rights, as well as better infrastructure for certain cities), it cannot be disputed that these wars caused just as much evil as the initial terror attacks themselves. While Al Qaeda killed 3,000 innocents on 9/11, the war in Afghanistan killed 3,500 innocent civilians in 2015 alone. As of March 2015 an estimated 210,000 civilians had been killed as a result of these two wars. They were killed by terrorists and insurgents, but also by American and coalition forces. They died as the result of bullets, bombs, poor health, loss of shelter, and starvation. Other estimates place the number in Iraq alone as high as 500,000, although these numbers are almost impossible to know as the U.S. government and military tends to refrain from keeping or releasing such numbers on the civilian costs to these wars. Add to that the roughly 1.5 million refugees from Iraq and 2.5 million Afghan refugees, and the human cost is staggering.

Additionally, after 15 long years of war against terrorism, we have come no closer to preventing or defeating terror than when we began. In fact, the situation today may be worse. The war in Iraq helped create a power vacuum, ignite sectarian conflicts, radicalize new terrorists, and throw the limelight of international attention onto extremists who previously would have had little or no following. All of these facts have culminated in the rise of ISIS--perhaps a bigger threat to both the U.S., Europe, and the entire region of the Middle East than Al-Qaeda ever was.

In hindsight, the problem should appear obvious--we were shocked and angered by evil, and chose to respond poorly in a knee-jerk manner. We demanded blood for the blood of victims that was spilled. And when the Taliban refused to hand over bin-Laden, we foolishly decided that we could defeat evil with bombs and bullets.

But here is the lesson those who are Christians should take away from our memorial services--we cannot defeat evil with violence. We cannot bomb evil into non-existence. We cannot kill enough people to make evil submit.

I will not go so far as to say that war or violence can never be justified, but I will say that we ought to be more wary of such calls in the aftermath of tragedy. Evil is a siren call that deceives us into perpetuating more evil under the banner of "freedom" and "justice." This temptation is exacerbated by the narratives of patriotism, nationalism, and civil religion that usually accompany such tragedies and attacks.

For Christians, when we find ourselves staring into the face of evil, our first response should be to gaze upon the cross--the greatest evil of all time. For it is the cross of Jesus that dealt with evil once and for all. For thousands of years humans have devised methods of overcoming evil, but none of them have succeeded. Only the life, death and resurrection of the Son of God actually responds to evil in a meaningful way. The true answer to evil is found at the cross, and our responses to evil--both individual and national--should be informed by that event.

The cross also reminds us that the world cannot be divided into "good" and "evil." As Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn wrote, "the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being."  In the wake of 9/11, our nation dubbed our enemies (ideologies, individuals, and nations) to be "evil," while at the same time presenting our own cause as righteous, just, and good. But the truth was so much more complicated. One reason for Islamic terrorism relates back to American imperialist tendencies in the Middle East going back decades, actions which radicalized numerous Muslims and Arabs. During the post-9/11 wars, we have killed innocent civilians, ignored the sovereignty of nations, and committed war crimes including torture. Now certainly we are not as bad as the barbarous individuals who carry out intentional, heartless attacks on civilians, but we must be honest and admit that we are not innocent or blameless either.

Focusing on the cross reminds us of that truth because Jesus died for the sins of all. He died because all of us have evil within us. He died because institutions, nations, governments, and places of power often become "possessed" by evil and commit atrocities. Simultaneously, the cross not only exposes our own guilt, but also illumines an alternative, counter-cultural way of responding to evil.

So how ought we to observe Sept. 12 and beyond? I suggest we do so by remembering not just 9/11, but also by remembering the cross. At the cross I am reminded that evil is constantly present in our world, so I should not be shocked by it. At the cross I am reminded that Jesus has dealt with and will deal with evil, so I can have hope. At the cross I am reminded that there are things worse than physical death, so I am not driven by fear in the face of evil. At the cross I am reminded that Jesus chose love, mercy, and sacrifice as the primary tools for overcoming evil; He did not buy into the myth of redemptive violence. So yes, let's "never forget" 9/11, but more importantly let's "never forget" God's response to evils like 9/11--the cross.

Faithfulness or Ambition

I'm at an interesting point in my life right now. I finished my master's degree right at a year ago now and have thought a lot recently about future plans. At the same time, many of my friends have also recently finished their degrees and are moving on to new jobs and new cities. And yet, I am still here in Marlin working two jobs, one of them being the part-time youth pastor job I've have for 4 years now.

I would be lying if I said there weren't days when I wonder if it's time to move on and pursue a new job. After all, there are many reasons to start a new phase in my life. I could consolidate into a single (better paying) job. This would also free up time to spend with my family. I could find myself at a bigger church in a bigger town with bigger opportunities. I have a better degree than four years ago which could open up new possibilities. And, we could move closer to family to have free babysitters (aka grandparents).

However, despite all the reasons to leave, we are still here. Why?

Because I want to believe in faithful ministry. Yes, it would be easier to pack things up and seek a new, great opportunity for me and my family, but part of ministry means considering those to whom you are actually ministering. In the case of my church, my family feels a need to stick around a little longer. When I came, the church had seen 4 pastors in the previous decade and as many youth and children's pastors. Needless to say the church has grown accustomed to pastors coming and going every few years.

But I can't help but wonder if this is good. Sometimes I wonder if pastors are truly driven by God's call on their life or if they are driven more by ambition.

I suppose some could accuse me of having a lack of ambition. "Why don't you go pastor your own church? You've got a degree, do something with it! You've got so much talent, why waste it on little old Marlin?"

But I know my own heart, and the truth is I have too much ambition. I lust after those dream jobs. I dream of becoming a famous pastor, writer, teacher, etc. It's too easy for me to salivate after a community that would "actually respond". Yes, there is plenty of ambition in my heart, but I know what I also need is faithfulness.

Too many pastors are adept at the art of "church-jumping." They see an opportunity that is attractive (and just so happens to pay better as well) and find themselves resigning from their current church because "God is calling them" to such and such a church.

Now, I'm not saying that every pastor who leaves a church is like this. I believe there are many genuine calls from God to move. However, I also know it can be very easy to confuse God's voice with our own lusts, whether they be for power, prestige, or money.

Why do I stay in Marlin? Call it an experiment in faithfulness. I want to believe that God is found as much in the weak and little places as in the big and powerful places. I want to believe that amazing things can happen when we stick it out through the tough times and remain faithful. But most of all, I want to be very wary of "following my heart" before following Christ.

I'm sure one day God will call me and my family to someplace else, but when that time comes I want to make sure of a few things. I want to know for sure that it is God's voice and not simply mine, and I want to know for sure that I have done all I can do in my present location and ministry. And perhaps the American church could benefit from faithfulness like this. Maybe we as pastors need to stop bowing to the celebrity cult our churches want and bow down the the Messiah who conquered sin and death with a cross--a tool that stands for weakness, humility, and foolishness.

A Reflection for Lent: Evil

We stand less than two weeks from Easter and anticipation of the resurrection is growing. However, we mustn't lose sight of the fact that Lent still continues until then. In my own reflections and readings during Lent I have been thinking recently about evil.

Evil is something that we often attach to others. Hitler was evil. Osama was evil. Big government is evil. Etc. This is so easy and natural for us to do. It is like breathing.

But as I journey through Lent, I am reminded that evil is not found primarily in others. Evil is also not far off. Evil lives in me. As N.T. Wright has said, "[T]he line between good and evil is never simply between 'us' and 'them.' The line between good and evil runs through each of us" (Evil and the Justice of God, 38.) Yes it is true that I have been forgiven and redeemed by Christ. Yes it is true that the Holy Spirit lives within me. But it is also true that until Christ returns, I am marred by sin and evil.

In watching the "Noah" movie this past weekend, one line from a conversation between Noah and his wife stuck in my mind. His wife was attempting to convince Noah that he and their family were basically good people. He responds by saying, "And yet, wouldn't we readily kill others to protect our children?" The fact is, when things are stripped away from us, when we feel our lives threatened, we too easily revert to those basic sinful tendencies--greed, selfishness, pride, lust, violence.

One of the things that saddens and frustrates me is the culture of anger and blame-setting I see on Facebook among other places. We as a culture are so quick to place and accuse others. Don't get me wrong, I think it is good to stand against injustice. But what I see people posting so often is inflammatory, accusatory, prideful, and (quite honestly) impulsive and ignorant. We seem to think that those who shout the loudest will be found in the right.

But what if we learned from this season and took a lesson from the cross? What if we recognized that the problem was not always in the others whom we quickly blame, but is often within ourselves? If we recognized that we don't really have much claim to the moral high ground, maybe our speech and actions would be marked with more humility.

The message of the cross is that sin and evil are real. And, it is not just a reality for "bad" people, it is a reality for ALL people. Jesus had to die for me as well as for "them." Furthermore, I am called to "take up the cross." This is not some nice metaphor for enduring hardships or sickness. It is a call to self-denial. On the cross I choose to crucify my selfish desires. I choose to sacrifice my rights for the sake of others. I choose to admit that I have sin in need of crucifying as well. May we take this message to heart during these final weeks of Lent so that when Easter comes, we can be all the more thankful that the Resurrection can overcome even an evil heart like mine.

Foolishness of the Cross

Over the past year or so, through classes and reading, I've come to realize just how odd the symbol of the cross is. To put it in simplest terms, how could a tool of brutal execution become so highly revered by a group of people. Philip Yancey has pointed out that one would expect to find the Resurrection as the symbol of our faith with the cross merely expressing an "unfortunate footnote in history." And yet, that is not the case. How puzzled Greeks and Romans would be to discover that churches today place this object on their buildings, on their necks, and in art.

Logically, the cross should be something I long to forget. Isn't it kind of morbid to celebrate execution, and execution of God no less? You don't see any other groups today that hold high the electric chair or hangman's noose and celebrate it. Why are we so obsessed with this object of the cross?

And yet, as I look at the cross, I cannot turn away. Indeed, Christ commands this. At the Last Supper, He called His disciples to "remember" the horror that was about to take place. There is something captivating about the crucifix. It is there that God proved His love for us. It is there that He demonstrated His nearness. It is incomprehensible that a god would not only become human but die as one as well. As Paul says in Phil. 2, Christ showed us the ultimate act of love and humility by stooping down all the way to the cross. Paul also sees the cross as the place where evil and death were defeated (Col. 2:13-15).

As I look at the cross I think: "if I were God, I would have made it easier." After all, the foolishness of this sacrifice has been a stumbling block for centuries. The idea that weakness and sacrifice triumph over evil continues to turn people off. And yet, that is what God has declared. Therefore, I am thankful that I am not God.