an end of the year post

In less than 50 words, here was my year:

• graduated from college
• started graduate school
• moved to PA
• began work at Starbucks
• dropped out of graduate school
• quit dating deanna
• wrote a lot
• read a lot
• painted some
• still a pacifist
• met some great people and made some new friends

Best books I read this year:

• Dandelion Wine
• For the Time Being
• An American Childhood
• Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
• Watership Down
• The Omnivore’s Dilemma
• Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community

Favorite Music Albums:

• Tennessee Pusher, Old Crow Medicine Show
• Fleet Foxes, Fleet Foxes
• Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Assortment of Eggs, Andrew Bird
• A Ghost is Born, Wilco
• Drunkard’s Prayer, Over the Rhine

Most haunting quote of the year that I will take with me into 09:

Cry the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear.  Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire.  Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley.  For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.

I hope two-thousand and nine is a year of:

• writing
• painting
• quiet

young evangelicals: an identity crisis (part 1)

Alright, so I’ve  learned that some people actually read my blog.  That gives me some satisfaction (even though half read it because they know me, and half stumble upon it by accident).

I’ve been thinking about the topic of young evangelical identity lately as a possible paper topic for a conference being held at my Alma Mater.  Carson Clark, a friend of mine who is organizing the event, asked me to participate, though I’m not sure I will.

Regardless of whether I submit a paper or not, the idea of young evangelical identity has been fermenting in my mind recently.  Since graduating from a very conservative evangelical Bible college, I have had some time to think.  For me, and for several of my friends, attending a Christian college like Toccoa was one of the most difficult experiences of my life.  Surrounded by Christians I found myself feeling alone, especially when it came to issues I found important (reverence, art/aesthetics, pacifism/non-violence, social issues, environmental concern/sustainability, church history, racial reconciliation).

Over the course of college, I had several friends who felt the same way.  One converted to Anglicanism, one to Catholicism, and one is seriously considering Eastern Orthodoxy.  I knew of several others who considered themselves post-modern Christians (whatever that means,  I guess they were aligning more with McClaren, etc.).  At the same time I was reading material like Irresistible Revolution by other young evangelicals who were calling themselves a New Monasticism.  And then there were my friends who left the faith completely…With my interest in the anabaptist faith then, here were a handful of young evangelicals that I knew, or knew of, who were literally flocking to everything save the faith they were raised in.

This past month I had the opportunity to visit another fairly conservative Christian college out in Indiana.  I was intrigued to discover that there were several folks out there having the same conversations and issues regarding the evangelical faith they were brought up in.  I stayed for four days with a couple of guys, one was in the process of being confirmed in the catholic faith, the other was working as a catholic minister, both were raised evangelical protestant.

My hypotheses is that this is a nationwide trend.  Young evangelicals are leaving the faith in droves.  They are becoming catholics, anabaptists, emergents, anglicans, eastern orthodox, and new monastics in order to become better disciples of Jesus.  I’m not sure all that is involved in this radical departure from the faith of our youth, but I have some ideas which I hope to explore in later posts:

• The American evangelical protestant expression of Christianity seriously lacks an appreciation for mystery, beauty, and art: Most (if not all) of the people I’ve met firsthand who have left the faith, have been artists of one kind or another.  I think this is a serious issue and I’ll explore that later.
• The American evangelical protestant expression of Christianity has all but aligned itself with outright support of unjust and economically motivated wars, and our American culture of violence and “right to self-defense” (I think this trend is slowly changing).
• The American evangelical protestant expression of Christianity has adopted the American ahistorical culture.  We are disconnected from the previous generation, and every generation prior to our own.  “Church History” means, all to often, studying the Book of Acts.  We have little or no knowledge of the saints or much of the rest of Christian history.  This has created a movement wide identity crisis: we call ourselves evangelical but we don’t know what that means or where we come from (though we call it Luther and brag about the 95 Theses).
• The American evangelical protestant expression of Christianity is divorced from nature (again, like the predominant American culture).  As Wendell Berry has wisely, and simply, put it, “Land that is used will be ruined unless it is properly cared for.”  The story of America has been the exploitation of our natural resources, and of all people, God fearers should be most appalled by the damaging of his creation which is under our care.

A peacemaking pilgrimage

This summer I will have the privilege to travel to Israel and occupied Palestine for two weeks to work with Christian Peacemaker Teams.  More information will be coming soon.  You can read about the delegation, as well as Christian Peacemaker Teams’ other delegations here:

http://www.cpt.org/participate/delegation/schedule

I’ll be writing about this more extensively in the future.  I also read a very interesting article today about the practicality of non-violent peacemaking.  Very thought provoking.  You can read it here:

http://www.gmu.edu/academic/pcs/nagler.html

“I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

Every one has those things in their life that they are passionate about. For some it is sports, or a particular sport, for others it is music, or any number of things. We form a connection with these passions to the point that, when they are rejected by others, we sometimes take the rejection personally and feel the need to defend ourselves and our passions.

So when I mentioned to one of my professors my dismay that I hadn’t found a single evangelical peacemaking organization, my disappointment in his response was certainly a normal reaction. “That’s because Jesus said that he didn’t come to bring peace but a sword,” was his reply, as if that was the end of the issue. I was probably visibly shocked, but I decided not to argue just then.

 

My disappointment in my professor’s response goes beyond a personal feeling of rejection as a result of someone rejecting a personal passion. I think my professor’s response is indicative of an overarching problem in evangelical Christianity, namely, a poor understanding of the social aspects of the gospel. It is attitudes represented by my professor that have prompted certain accusations that evangelicals only care about the soul and spiritual salvation and care little or nothing for the body and social justice.

The gospel seems to self-evidently concern itself with justice. In fact, the entire Bible is riddled with the issue of social justice. The Israelites are constantly being reminded to care for the alien, the fatherless, and the widow. The prophets repeatedly condemn rulers for exploiting the poor. The first chapter of Isaiah addresses the rulers of Sodom and Gomorrah and pleads with them to cease their vain spirituality and exercise justice and end oppression. Jesus specifically mentions that those who feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and visit prisoners are performing those very actions for Jesus himself! Social justice and oppression’s end is close to the heart of Jesus.

 

At a time when many evangelical denominations were focusing only on the spiritual aspects of the gospel in a reaction to the social gospel, A. B. Simpson presented a balanced approach to the gospel of Jesus. He argued that Christianity must seek to minister to both body and soul. To quote Simpson:

 

“There is room not only for the worship of God, the teaching of sacred truth, and the evangelization of the lost, but also for every phase of practical philanthropy and usefulness. There may be, in perfect keeping with the simple order and dignity of the church of God, the most aggressive works for the masses and the widest welcome for every class of sinful men; the ministry of healing for the sick and suffering administered in the name of Jesus; the most complete provision for charitable relief; industrial training and social elevation for the degraded classes, workshops for the unemployed, homes for the orphaned, shelter for the homeless, refuges for the inebriates, the fallen and helpless; missions for the heathen; Christian literature for the instruction of the people and every agency needed to make the church of God the light of the world and the mothering of the suffering and the lost. And there is no work that will be more glorifying to God than a church that will embrace just such features and completeness.”

(Simpson Body and Soul, 5)

 

It is easy to see, at least in the tradition of the C&MA that social justice was seen by some evangelicals as central to the church’s mission.

 

So, why the aversion to Christian Peacemaking?

 

In defense of my professor, I’m guessing that the misconception is that Christian peacemaking is viewed as social activism instead of social welfare work, and indeed it can often take on an identity of social activism. The Christian peacemaking I would like to see, however, is peacemaking that is service oriented. I think Christians need to place themselves in fractured, violent, and war-torn communities in order to be a peaceful presence, and demonstrate the Christian alternative to this world’s ways of dealing with conflict.

 

What would happen if Christians devoted as much effort to waging peace as nations do to waging war? This is the question posited by the Christian Peacemaker Teams (www.cpt.org). Would this effort not be an incredible witness to armies on both sides of conflicts? Picture Christians moving to war-torn Iraq, helping widows and orphans and those injured by conflicts, providing medical care to victims of collateral damage and food supplies for the poor who cannot get access to food due to embargos, etc. What a powerful witness that would be, and a demonstration that we are not afraid to love in the midst of physical danger.

 

I think there is a responsibility on the part of Christian peacemaking organizations to make sure they emphasize the social welfare aspects of their ministries in greater proportion than their activism aspects. There are several reasons for this. First, it would be in beneficial in creating a united Christian support for peacemaking from both pacifists and just-war theorists alike. Even Christian proponents of just-war theory should hate war as much as pacifists due to its obvious and unavoidably destructive nature. Consequently, if peacemakers focused on alleviating these destructive effects, while offering the victims of this destruction hope in Jesus Christ, rather than just picketing wars, perhaps their just-war counterparts would be in full support of their efforts. Perhaps just-war adherents would even JOIN in peacemaking. What I am suggesting is, rather than only fighting war by trying to change policy (still an honorable task, in this man’s opinion), work to alleviate the effects of war and prevent war through peaceful ministry. We can create peace through presence much more readily than we can through policy, and we might get some of our just-war friends to join us. There is no reason we cannot work together to alleviate the ill effects of war; even if we disagree on the justice of war, we all agree that the ill effects of it are tragedies. And even if there will always be wars (as there will always be poor amongst us), that does not diminish our responsibility to minister to war-torn regions.

 

I’ve many more thoughts on this subject, and this is certainly not a comprehensive look on the issue. This is a brief survey of the issue and some of the ideas I’m toying with. I think I will be expounding on some of these ideas in the future, but wanted to get this out there initially. I welcome critiques and further ideas on these subjects.

Unprovoked, Unqualified, and Undeserved Love

On November 17, 2007 I had an experience that has caused me to think extensively about what it means to truly love someone in a Christ-like manner. I’ve had mixed reactions to this story from various people, which have caused me to have responsive feelings as diverse as rage and joy, hope and despair.

Long story short, on that particular Friday night, I met a couple strangers in Toccoa. They appeared to have a genuine need: it was cold out, they were not properly dressed for the weather, and they didn’t have a ride to their home a few miles from where we were. I had the ability to meet their need: I had no obligations, and I had a vehicle that could take them home quickly. And so, I decided to offer these two strangers some hospitality by giving them a ride. As it turns out, they took advantage of my hospitality. They took my wallet, my cell phone, my keys, and left me alone on a back road in Toccoa. They violated me as a person by rejecting my friendship. They chose to dehumanize me and devalue me rather than accept love from a stranger.

As I mentioned earlier, I have had mixed feedback to my actions. Some have ridiculed me for helping a pair of strangers, while others have suggested showing more caution when dealing with them. Some have responded in anger toward the young men who took advantage of me, hoping that they get their “just recompenses.” Although I can relate to some of the feelings these responses have been bourn out of, many of them have saddened me. Ultimately, the mixed nature of this feedback, especially from fellow Christians I might add, has caused me to take up a defensive posture toward my actions. All in all, I feel the need to defend myself and my actions toward a pair of strangers that night.

An element of essential back-story to the events of November the 17^th is that for the last year or so, beginning spring of my junior year of college, I’ve been thinking extensively about what it means to be a disciple of Christ. Although I‘d certainly considered the subject before, these thoughts were reawakened by a reading assignment in History of Theology. Dr. Shelton had us read a small portion of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s The Cost of Discipleship in our discussion of Neo-Orthodoxy. Bonhoeffer is famously quoted as saying, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.”

The cost of discipleship in America seems to me to be downplayed. It is certainly not a message you would hear from the lips of Joel Olsteem and other preachers of the popular prosperity gospel (I hesitate to call it “good news;” it certainly does not appear to me to be the good news of the Kingdom of God). But over and over again Jesus and his disciples seem to reaffirm how much God requires from those who choose to follow him. Indeed, it seems to be nothing less than total commitment and total surrender. All three writers of the synoptic gospels use similar language saying that anyone who wishes to follow Jesus must take up his cross (Mat 16:24, Mark 8:34, Luke 9:23). Matthew and Luke expound to say that those who do not take up their cross, are not worthy of even being associated with Jesus (Mat 10:38, Luke 14:27).

Part of the cost of discipleship includes a willingness to suffer persecution, ridicule, and the cross. It means learning to obey all that Christ commanded (Mat 28:19, 20). Part of my reflection with reference to the events of November 17^th has been the teachings of Christ concerning love for strangers and enemies.

The Parable of the Good Samaritan is representative of the teachings of Christ concerning who our neighbor is and our obligation to him. Jesus clearly teaches that it is the people we despise the most who are our neighbors, the ones we are to love as we love ourselves. According to Jesus’ teaching, when we become his followers, we no longer have strangers or enemies! Everyone has become our neighbor. Jesus later exclaims that when we show kindness strangers, we show kindness to our Lord and savior, Jesus himself. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus reaffirms these ideas when he tells us to love our enemies in the same way we love our neighbor (Mat 5:38-48). In verse 48 he seems to go so far as to make love for enemies a criterion for perfection.

By Jesus logic, helping two neighbors in need of a ride is nothing special but the obligation that he gives all who wish to follow him. It is notable that Jesus does not seem to condone caution in this love at all. Instead, he seems to promote careless and reckless love, a love that might cost us a slap in the cheek, the clothes off our back, or an extra mile of labor for a cruel enemy. He doesn’t suggest that we size up the situation to see if we might get hurt. He tells us to love and leaves it at that. In fact, he suggests on several occasions that we WILL be hurt and harmed for doing good (Mat 10:23, Luke 21:12, John 15:20). Paul both confirms this with his life, and with his teachings when he says, “all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Tim 3:12).

Jesus demonstrates this unprovoked, unqualified and undeserved love for enemies in his own life. Are we not all enemies of God? Yet perfect Jesus made peace with the world through his blood sacrifice on Calvary. Surely there was no one as undeserving of love as us, and no one more perfect in love than he, and yet he chose to love us who hated him, and at such great cost.

When we help people who have needs, it is inevitable that we will be taken advantage of, robbed of time and possessions, hurt, and persecuted. If fear of these things keeps us from doing good deeds, then we are sinning. But many Christians have exhorted caution in doing good. Caution born out of the wisdom and prompting of the Holy Spirit is one thing, but caution born out of fear is a lack of love born of a selfish desire for self-preservation. May fear of harm, loss, or disappointment never be a reason why we fail to love those around us! And when we are harmed, may we remember the words of our Lord, “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you” (Mat 5: 10-12).

I share the conclusion of the events of November 17^th not to brag, but to demonstrate God’s faithfulness when we step out in faith to perform good works in his name, especially at the expense of caution and in spite of our fear. After filing a police report and finally making it back to campus, I called Pastor Paul Dordal, who has become a mentor of sorts to me. I told him about the incident, and asked his opinion about the situation. We concluded our conversation by praying that (1) I’d have the opportunity to show kindness to a stranger soon, (2) that I’d have the opportunity to forgive my assailants in person, and that (3) God would use the situation to draw those two young men to himself. I began praying for these three things daily as I continued to process through things in my mind.

On November 25^th as I was driving back down to Toccoa after spending Thanksgiving with my family and friends in Aliquippa, PA. About an hour or so into the 10 hour drive, I passed a hitchhiker on I-79, right before it splits with I-70. I stopped, found out where the man was heading, and offered him a ride. He rode with me for six hours down to North Carolina. One of my only regrets from the last two guys I had picked up was that I had not shared with them the gospel directly, but had kept my kindness limited to good deeds. I’d resolved that the next person I picked up would hear the loving gospel of Jesus Christ. I shared with Thoman this story of my mugging, as well as about a Jesus who loves him. We talked on and off about religion and life for the whole six hours. We had a good time, and I continue to pray that God blesses him and protects him. I myself was blessed by the experience. Pastor Paul and I had prayed that I’d be given the opportunity to help out a stranger before I became bitter and jaded toward them, and God gave me the opportunity with Thoman.

Two days later I was working at Pizza Hut, delivering pizza to South Alexander Street in Toccoa. I still had not yet replaced my stolen cell phone, and so I was apprehensive about working without it and getting lost. South Alexander was not a familiar street to me, and sure enough, I got lost on the way. Unable to call for directions, I stopped and asked a woman to give me directions. She told me where it was, and I proceeded to the house. There was no parking immediately near where I needed to drop off the pizza, so I was forced to walk a ways down the street to the house. On the way back to my car after delivering the pizza, I noticed a young man who appeared familiar to me. It was the young man who had mugged and robbed me only ten days earlier. I hopped in my car, drove up to him, rolled down my window and forgave him there in the street. I told him that I was a follower of Jesus and that I forgave him. It seemed that the only words I could articulate were, “I forgive you.” The young man was dumbstruck and shocked in his demeanor. He said nothing to me, but stared at me silently with jaw dropped.

Driving away, I praised God and thanked him for answering that second prayer, that I’d have the chance to forgive those young men in person. Now I share this story with people who ask so that they can join me in praying for those young men and that they would one day come to repentance. They are in need of Jesus, and I pray that the Holy Spirit continues to come into conflict with their actions and convict them of their sin. I may never see them again, but God can use the transpiring events of their lives to draw them slowly to himself.

And sometimes I wonder at the eternal cost of my occasional passivity and inaction. God may use the events of November 17^th to snatch two young men from the jaws of sin and death. Had I not been willing to love two strangers, they may have never been shown kindness by a Christian. As it stands now, they have seen the kindness of a disciple of Christ, and they now have more people praying for them than they may have ever had in their lives.

As I reflect on God and his ability to take a seemingly awful situation and turn it for his good, I am reminded that this is the story of God in history. The entire Bible is the story of God taking a situation that was intended for evil, and turning it for good. These are the words of Joseph to his brothers who had beaten him and sold him into slavery, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.” The very cross, the center of our faith, is the quintessential example of God working good out of an evil situation. It is what just what he does.

Christians and Government

Today in my History of Theology class a discussion concerning the separation of church and state came up, in the context of an introduction to dominion theology. It was an incredibly interesting discussion, and the subject has been on my mind for most of the day. I found myself disagreeing with my prof and about half the class. Overall I would guess our class was 50/50 on the issue, half thinking that Christians in the government can effect morality via the governing authority, the other half rejecting that notion.

To me, the notion of affecting a nation’s morality via the ruling authorities is a proposterous idea. This “top-down” mentality doesn’t work with morality any better than it does with economics! (The trickle-down theory just doesn’t work practically!) The movements that have had lasting effects on our country’s politics and morality have been bottom-up, grass-roots movements. Look at the temperance movement, the women’s suffrage movement, and the civil rights movement…In each case, it was the little people making the change.

When I pointed out in class that the Jesus and his disciples, and the early church for that matter, were grass-roots, I had a classmate try to tell me that the incarnation was a “top-down” approach. Maybe what he meant by this was that Christ came down to the nothingness of humanity from his place as God, but I don’t think that is what this classmate meant. Christ did make himself nothing, and his example is the PERFECT example of effective change from the bottom up!

Jesus of Nazareth had every opportunity to set himself up as the emperor of the world. The Jews of his day, including many of his followers, were expecting the messiah to come and start an earthly kingdom, a “top-down” kingdom that would change the world. They were looking for political liberation and self-determination. But that is not what Jesus had in mind. Instead he turned the tables, and flipped things upside down. How did he start a movement? With an eclectic group of uneducated peasants from a captive nation! And what was his method for changing the world? Dying. Christ and his gospel are the antithesis of a “top-down” approach.

It was a great day when Constantine made Christianity legal in the Roman Empire. I imagine many Christians were joyful and thankful that they could serve God openly at last. The centuries of persecution were finally over. That peace was a great thing. But, didn’t the church thrive under such persecution? Look at the book of Acts… What about today? Isn’t the church thriving in China and other places hostile to the gospel? Is the church thriving in our present day Constantinian empire (the USA)?

I am not sure that I have fully resolved this next idea in my head, but it seems to make sense to me. The ability for Christians to live and worship freely is a great thing, and not something to be taken for granted. It has not always been this way, and will not, most likely, continue to be this way. But, at the same time, persecution is good for the church. It forces the church to rely on God, it weeds out the nominal, and it is a powerful witness to the world. Maybe tranquility for the church is nice for this world, but maybe it is not beneficial for our spiritual condition. Do not trials develop perseverance, character, and hope?

Apostate churches are not born out of persecution, but are born out of the church growing comfortable. I think there is plenty of evidence for this with the Israelites in the old testament. The entire narrative of the Old Testament seems to be the Israelites sinning and doing evil in the eyes of the Lord, being taken captive (much like persecution), and then repenting and serving God again before the cycle begins again.

So what does this mean practically? I’m not sure… Should we pray for persecution? Maybe… at the very least we need to be careful not to take our comfort and prosperity (read laziness and obesity) for granted. Days of comfort often end abruptly.

When its Hard to be a Pacifist

Its days like today that it is not fun to be a pacifist. I received an email yesterday and this is what it said:

“On Thursday, May 3rd at 10:25 AM a young soldier from Franklin County will be coming home.Ryen was killed serving our country overseas and will be arriving at the Toccoa Airport on Thursday. The college is asking our students who can gather on Big A to support his family and show the community our support for one who was willing to sacrifice his life for his country.”

When push comes to shove, I believe Ryen died for nothing. I believe that Ryen’s life had value, but he was a soldier commanded to fight in an unjust war and the loss of his life for the “defense of this country” is meaningless. But that makes me sound as heartless as a war-hawk…Ryen’s death is a tragedy, as is the loss of all human life. I don’t know why it happened and I wish that it hadn’t. His death was as senseless as those that have died in Darfur, or the shootings earlier this year in Aliquippa. Death, wherever it happens is a tragedy. My honest condolences go out to Ryen’s family. It is the individual lives affected by war that make it so tragic. It is not nations that feel the pain of these losses, but fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers. It is the weak–children, poor, and marginalized–that suffer the most.

There must be a better way to peace.

“Sure as a hammer finds a nail, death is the only way to peace” ~Derek Webb

It is Christians dying for others–socially, emotionally and yes physically– that can bring the world peace. Jesus inaugurated the kingdom through his death, and we are called to follow suite. Only through radically associating, and relating to the hurting can we effect peace in this war torn and restless world.

It is not guaranteed to be successful, but a human history of war has never brought peace: the “war to end all wars” (WW1) led to the “war to make the world safe for democracy” (WW2) which has led to more war, and a world hostile to human life (including democracy!). When will we learn?

“Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” ~George Santayana

Anabaptists, Pentecostals, and Homophobia

I never finished The Politics of Jesus, though it is definitely on my list of books to read. I am an expert at returning books late to the library and unfortunately The Politics of Jesus was well overdue so I needed to return it. In its place, I checked out A contemporary Anabaptist Theology as well as Artists, Citizens, Philosophers: seeking the peace of the city, an Anabaptist Theology of Culture. I’m further along in this second book and I am finding it quite fascinating. I’ll post more comments on it hopefully as I get further along.

In addition to familiarizing myself with the Anabaptists, I watched the riveting and controversial documentary Jesus Camp this week. For those of you unfamiliar with the film, it is a documentary about an extremely charismatic pentecostal children’s camp in North Dakota. Critics of the camp argue that they are manipulative and forcefully indoctrinate their children with right wing conservative propaganda. Although I think most critics are a touch harsh, I must admit that their were parts of the film that made me feel uncomfortable, namely when a group of children prayed over a cardboard cutout of George W. Granted, however, I am not the biggest Bush fan anyway. Regardless of my opinion about this particular pentecostal church, I find myself having to remind myself that this particular church does not represent a majority of Pentecostals, and it certainly doesn’t represent all evangelicals.

In an ironic bit of Jesus Camp Ted Haggard is captured preaching against homosexuality and mentioning that “sin will find you out.” Obviously this film was shot and released before the current scandal hit the media…I was listening to Tony Campolo’s thoughts on the whole issue when I heard him mention Haggard’s meth addiction. I didn’t remember hearing about it before, and as Tony pointed out how ridiculous it is that evangelicals (as a majority) are not outraged about his use of meth, I found myself agreeing. Why are we so homophobic? Why are we not as equally outraged by Ted Haggard’s addiction to an elicit substance as we are his homosexual actions? As I talked to one of my professors about this, it was brought to my attention that our difference in opinion on this subject is most likely due to our beliefs on sin. As a result of this conversation, I now have a lot more questions about sin. Is there an hierarchy of sins? Are some sins worse than others? Why have evangelicals (in general) picked homosexuality and abortion as their “worst” sins while neglecting the atrocities of war and injustice to the poor (this last one which is mentioned biblically far more than these others)?

The Politics of Jesus pt.1

I’ve been reading through The Politics of Jesus by John Howard Yoder, and I must say, it has been quite thought provoking. For anyone interested in a good, serious diologue with pacifism, this is probably the best biblical approach to it that I have read (granted my reading on the subject is certainly not exhaustive).
If there was ever a man who could have waged a just war, it was Jesus of Nazareth. If there was ever a man who had just cause for war, it too was Jesus of Nazareth. If there was ever a man who had the authority to wage a just war, again, it was Jesus of Nazareth. Finally, if there was ever a man who had the power and military following to win a just war, it was Jesus of Nazareth.
Yet, as easy as it would have been for Christ to usher in his kingdom through armed conflict, he chose to die instead. Why is it then that we as Christians today fail to see our own death as a serious possibility for ushering in God’s kingdom? Why do we argue for ‘just war’ when our savior so seemingly set the precedent for our socio-political action in his death? Yoder puts it like this, “Jesus’ rebuke to the unseeing pair on the road to Emmaus was not that they had been looking for a kingdom and should not have been. Their fault is that, just like Peter at Caesarea Philippi, they were failing to see that the suffering of the Messiah is the inauguration of the kingdom.”