The empire has no clothes. The King has colors of hope

In my last post I wrote: Until I’m willing to see both the idolatry and insufficiency of the present “McWorld” system, I’ll also fail to see the radically hopeful nature of the gospel, which provides an exit strategy from these false hopes as it invites us into so much more than a ticket to heaven.

Assuming that I do see the insufficiency of the present worldview (no matter who’s in power), only clears the deck of false hopes.  It deconstructs.  It exposes.  And, if left alone, creates a generation of cynics and nihilists, who might well see the gods of consumerism as the destructive idols they are, but lack the moral imagination to offer any alternative.  The results aren’t pretty, as indicated by declining marriage and birthrates, and rises in rates of addictive and destructive behaviors.  We need compelling alternatives.

This, for me, is what makes the Gospel so compelling.  Far from being some sort of limp, ‘get out of hell for free’ card, the central theme of the gospel is that in a world of failed narratives, God is inviting people to join Him in writing a better story, a robust, life giving alternative, on the pages of history.  Participants in this story take seriously God’s declaration that, in the resurrected Christ, a new world has begun because a new king and kingdom are now present.  It was the new king himself who reminded us of the important principles that will help us live into this far better story:

1. You can only have one allegiance - Jesus was clear that you can’t serve two masters, that Jesus can’t be your King and Ceasar also.  The entire New Testament is full of guidance about how to live in the midst of one kingdom while maintaining a clear and unswerving loyalty to another, higher, eternal King.  The notion that we can live in a paradigm of Jesus + Capitalism, or Jesus + Nationalism, or Jesus + Socialism, is entirely false.  No “ism” will ever bow to Christ, because all “isms”, from Adam Smith to Karl Marx declare themselves to be final solutions.  And in every case they fail to deliver.  So we vote, we participate in the civic world, as much as possible we obey civic authorities and pray for them.  But we know better than to believe that a change in parties is any sort of solution.

2. You should only have one obsession -When Jesus said “don’t worry about tomorrow” he used a word for worry that means “to be divided”, which is a way of saying that when we’re trying to find our role in the story of hope God is writing in the world, AND we’re also trying to buy into the pursuit of the consumerist American dream, or any other dream, we’ll be hopelessly divided, and the results will not be pretty.  Like an artist obsessed with his subject (as I write about in the Colors of Hope), we must pay close attention to the values of the kingdom so that we can make them visible on the canvass of our lives.  When we do this, the colors of generosity, justice, celebration, simplicity, joy, hospitality, bleed together creating a unique expression of Christ in each of us.  When we do this together… it’s called church.

3. You’re an artist – so get on with it. The best reasons to believe are, for me anyway, always rooted in the colors of hope I see painted on the canvass of other lives.  Whether it’s Gahigi in Rwanda and the countless stories in the stunning book, “As We Forgive”, or beautiful lives like Sophie Scholl‘s or Paul Brand‘s, I know that the pages of history are painted with the colors of hope.  Those colors exist as a foretaste of a world that will, someday, burst forth with these colors painting over all injustice, and oppression, and rape and violence, and environmental degradation.

That’s a world I want to be a part of it and the incredible news is that world has begun already, and I’ve a role to play, by being a unique expression of hope.  Finding that expression and living into it is the only thing that matters.  So, even though it’s an election year, I’m not losing sleep over who wins, because the reality is that, whoever’s in power, I serve a different, better king, one who, as Handel reminds us: “…shall reign forever and ever” To which I can only respond:  Hallelujah!

IMPORTANT:  I happy to share that my book “The Colors of Hope” won Christianity Today’s selection for Best Book 2011, in the “Christian Living Category”.  It’s FREE ON MAY 1st as a kindle download, and the study guide is free here (it makes a great group study)  Enjoy!  And please share the news with your friends.

The Empire Has No Clothes – raw truth precedes real hope – Part One

Pick your emperor: It's the same empire

The losses and damages characteristic of our present economy cannot be stopped, let alone restored, by “liberal” or “conservative” tweakings of corporate industrialism, against which the ancient imperatives of good care, homemaking, and frugality can have no standing. – Wendell Berry

Now that Mitt Romney has effectively vanquished all other contenders, the real election posturing can begin, and we all know it won’t be pretty.  More importantly though, we also know it won’t be true, or at the least very little of it will be true.  We’ll be promised a brighter tomorrow if we stay on the present path of growing government in order to offer systemic help to the downtrodden.  We’ll also be told that the way forward requires shrinking the government and deepening the pockets of wealthy industrialists so that they, stripped of environmental, finance, and other forms of regulations will be free to “grow the economy”.  Promises?  Lies actually.

Unspoken is the reality that the developed world has enthroned ‘economic growth’ as its deity, and both parties are equally guilty.  We will, for the next few months, be engaged in a dialogue about which party or leader can best serve this false god, but in either case, the goal is enable us to consume more, travel more, work more.  We’re trying to right the ship of the global economy, rather than asking where the ship’s going, or if, perhaps, there’s a more systemic reason for it’s sinking than merely Greek debt, or global terror.  Still enthroned in the minds of most (and surely both political parties), is the notion that the best future is more robust consumerist version of the present.

Two readings yesterday reminded otherwise:

Psalm 122 reminds me that we’re made for “shalom”.  We translate the word as “peace” in English, but that’s sorely inadequate because our notions of peace have been reduced, largely, to absence of conflict, in the same way that health has been redefined as absence of disease.  I can find mere ‘peace’, at least for the moment, by building big fences, gated communities, and having the biggest military budget on the planet as a means of protecting my stuff.  But let’s not confuse that with ‘shalom’, which envisions a robust wellness, rooted in justice, hospitality, and an ecological interdependency between the earth and all its creatures.  Shalom requires sharing with the poor.  Shalom requires caring for immigrant.  Shalom requires generosity, and recognizing the limits of growth, one of which is embodied in the call to sabbath and jubilee.  When this works properly, everyone has a calling/vocation that contributes to the common good.  People’s lives aren’t enslaved to mind numbing or body destroying work which fills the pockets of the few while the many remain trapped, through debt and poverty.

If I take shalom seriously, I need to take the well being of everyone seriously, and seen through that lens, I realize that both parties, well funded by multi-national corporations, are painting a future that remains fundamentally unchanged, where consumerism is king, and we are all recruited to define the good life as accumulating consumers primarily, and as worker bees to keep the fuels of consuming stoked, secondarily.  The cost of this vision for the planet and all it’s inhabitants should make us shudder.

This, no matter who wins, is so far from God’s vision of shalom for both land and people as to be unrecognizable.

Wendell Berry’s Speech – Berry, the poet/farmer, gave the distinguished “Jefferson Lecturer” speech this year, the full transcript of which can be read here.  He opens the speech by talking about his grandfather’s excitement, in 1907, the night before he was to take his tobacco crop to auction.  Regarding the day after the auction, Berry writes:

He came home that evening, as my father later would put it, “without a dime.” After the crop had paid its transportation to market and the commission on its sale, there was nothing left. Thus began my father’s lifelong advocacy, later my brother’s and my own, and now my daughter’s and my son’s, for small farmers and for land-conserving economies.

The problem was the rise of industrial farming, and the American Tobacco Company, owned by James B. Duke (of Duke University fame), which systematically worked to absorb small farms.  The demise, though, of “small” meant the demise of the quality care which nurtures the land.  The “big company” thinks of immediate profit and efficiency as both opportunity and necessity, but at what cost?

Berry: It may seem plausible to suppose that the head of the American Tobacco Company would have imagined at least that a dependable supply of raw material to his industry would depend upon a stable, reasonably thriving population of farmers and upon the continuing fertility of their farms. But he imagined no such thing. In this he was like apparently all agribusiness executives. They don’t imagine farms or farmers. They imagine perhaps nothing at all, their minds being filled to capacity by numbers leading to the bottom line. Though the corporations, by law, are counted as persons, they do not have personal minds, if they can be said to have minds. It is a great oddity that a corporation, which properly speaking has no self, is by definition selfish, responsible only to itself. This is an impersonal, abstract selfishness, limitlessly acquisitive, but unable to look so far ahead as to preserve its own sources and supplies. The selfishness of the fossil fuel industries by nature is self-annihilating; but so, always, has been the selfishness of the agribusiness corporations.

There is no shalom in the sort of short term consolidation and then rape, of either land or small businesses, that are only doing what capitalism does: maximize efficiency and profit at all costs, including long term costs to both sustainable ecological systems, and the well being of families.

Until I’m willing to see both the idolatry and insufficiency of the present “McWorld” system, I’ll also fail to see the radically hopeful nature of the gospel, which provides an exit strategy from these false hopes as it invites us into so much more than a ticket to heaven.  Until I see the present systems for the oppressors they are, though, I’ll continue to hope that a tweaking, a party change, a debt reduction, the demise or solidification of a new health system, will solve the problem.

No.  The solution is smaller and grander, more radical or more hopeful, than we’ve perhaps ever thought.  And it begins with us turning away from the false promises of the empire, and living into our calling as disciples.

Tomorrow… Living into the “Yes” of God’s better story

I welcome your thoughts…

Loving People, Losing Life – The Gospel made Real

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone.  But if it dies, it bears much fruit. Jesus the Christ

Jeremiah Small was a student who attended the Torchbearer Bible Schools, the family of schools where I am privileged to teach on a regular basis.  Jeremiah was teaching in Iraq until last week, when he was killed by one of his students, before turning the gun on himself.  An e-mail I received from one of his friends remembers Jeremiah this way:  He did much more than spread the gospel, he trained individuals to seek truth.  Seeing truth is something that Jeremiah did unlike anyone else. He committed his whole being to knowing God and wrestled to know his character with exemplary  diligence and faith.  In this news video Jeremiah’s dad speaks of his son’s life, of his passion to live life generously, courageously, fully, even if such commitments meant a shorter life.  He was 33.

I was moved by reading the perspective of a Kurdish student in this article from the Kurdistan Tribune, where he wrote:  In the classroom he taught his students a love of Literature and Humanities and encouraged them to always look for truth and seek knowledge; he spent all of his energy and time teaching, mentoring, and giving. Most importantly, he encouraged his students to pursue education as a way of giving back to their community; he was himself a servant leader and wanted to see more servant leadership in our country.

In the community he was a faithful and friendly expatriate. He cared for Kurdistan’s nature, environment, traditions, and way of life. A camera slung on his shoulder, you could spot him walking down of Mawlawi Street in his Jili Kurdi with his colleagues and students during Nawroz. He was no regular teacher; he was a mentor with immense God-given capabilities.

Our world is obsessed with economics, upward mobility, and security.  Here’s a man who cared for none of these things.  Our world is filled with arrogant pontifications, both political and theological, with acidic language becoming so commonplace that my soul’s nearly numb.  Jeremiah, it appears, didn’t care about any of it.  He  just got on with loving the people around him, challenging, serving, blessing.  On the day I read of his death, 60 minutes had yet another stories about hundreds of boys abused by priests, making me nearly throw up.  Jeremiah met people and helped them become whole.  His death comes right in the midst of this Lenten season when I’ve left behind any writings about politics and divisive issues in order to focus on one single question:  What does it mean to identify fully with Christ? Jeremiah’s life and death shed light on the answer:

Following Christ means emptying oneself. This is what sets the gospel apart from everything else I’ve ever seen.  Real faith is not some path to upward mobility, or downward mobility either for that matter.  Real faith means so fully identifying with Christ that we, like him, empty ourselves of self-seeking, self-promotion, self-preservation.  Philanthropy gives off the top, out of the margins.  Philanthropy’s good, but it’s not the Christian life.   Christ gives everything, lavishly pouring out his very life for a broken humanity, and then invites us to follow His example, noting that only those who are pouring their lives out will really find the life for which they were created.  This is paradox.  This is the core of the gospel.  In an age where the core’s gone missing, where the gospel has become “self improvement” instead of self-emptying, Jeremiah’s example shines.

Following Christ means loving. One of his students wrote: For me personally, Jeremiah Small was both a teacher and a friend. After my parents, he contributed the most to my personality and knowledge. He taught me how to turn my vision into reality and challenged me to be diligent, observing, meek, organized, and detailed.

He was also a great friend outside of the classroom; we went on numerous hikes, trips, and other outings. God knows I would not be who I am today if it was not for him and what he presented to me. I am sure hundreds of his other students feel the same way.

Jeremiah’s life and ministry of loving his students deeply, sacrificially, unconditionally, stands in stark contrast to too much of what passes for Christianity these days.  I’m chastened, humbled, challenged, by his example of delighting in his students and serving them tirelessly, for this, in the end, is the essential ingredient to making God’s good reign visible in world.  I see this love in my daughter and her work as a teacher in Germany.  I see it in friends who are caring for spouses and parents during their last days.  Would to God that all of us would grasp that this simple posture of sacrificial love, of delighting to serve the other in Jesus, is the most powerful force on the planet.

But alas, the pricetags have been switched, and the Christian machinery of the West has created a “faith” that adds activities, books, radio stations, camps, and the endless words of sermons to our lives, without necessarily calling people to empty themselves, follow Christ, take up their cross, and love deeply.  The results are loud – but not pretty.  Thank God for the Jeremiahs of the world who, without fanfare, are getting on with the work of serving and loving in Jesus’ name.   May the death of Jeremiah cause their tribe to increase.

O God of life;

You call us to pour our lives out as a sacrifice, promising that those who “lose their lives” for your sake will find them.  Thank you that Jeremiah found his life, found his true voice, found deep joy, by emptying his life.  Now, having paid the fullest sacrifice in his service to you, I pray that the example of his life will continue to “preach Christ” for generations to come, and that we who knew him in life, or only just now in death, would follow you fully as a result.  You point us to the cross, and now Jeremiah stands beside you, counted among the millions who’ve gone before to show us the way.  This is our hope and joy.

Amen

 

 

Following the Light

light and fog - what will prevail?

The latitude here in southern Germany is nearly identical to Seattle, which means that the number of daylight hours this time of year is very short.  Add a layer of fog to the shortness, and the daylight becomes so muted as to barely qualify as light.  The fog hides the sun, mutes the shadows, and makes forward progress challenging because one isn’t looking at vistas – one is simply looking for next steps.

This was the situation when I, along with my daughters and some friends, set out on a hike just outside Kandern, Germany.  Our destination, some centuries old castle ruins, had a slight elevation gain to it.  On the face of it, this didn’t appear to be a hiking day at all.  The damp and cold were so penetrating, the visibility so poor, that it seemed perhaps that a good book and some coffee, some games, even “It’s a Wonderful Life” would be time better spent.  But the magic and mystery of fog, light, and weather, is that one never really knows what the next step, next hour, will hold.  So, one goes anyway, to see what’s around the corner, above the fields, at the end of the road.

Conversations, in the midst of the fog, were rich.  After a very full autumn, and a very challenging past month of activity, it was pure joy to simply walk with some friends and my daughters, just being together and talking.  I spent the most time with my daughter Holly, having enjoyed rich conversations with my other daughter the weekend prior in a different part of Germany.  We spoke about the challenges of living in a world of light and darkness, how at one moment the darkness can be so overwhelming that you feel like giving up on trying to make any difference in the world, and then you see something and realize that, no, you can’t save the world, but you can take this one single step to be a blessing in some simple way.  Darkness and light.  Despair and Hope.  Sorrow and Joy.  Disengagement and Presence.  These, it seems, are the clothes we must all wear, not just alternately but sometimes, simultaneously as well.

We turn a corner and because I’ve been this way before I know there is a hut just ahead, but with the fog, it’s not to be seen.  Look for it, wait for it, keep walking.  Then, slowly, the shape is visible. This is the way of life.  We know that hope is there, that shelter awaits, even while we’re out in the cold of loss, or doubt, or uncertainty.  We keep walking upward, believing that, when the time is right, the shelter from the storm will be there for us.  “Do I keep walking upward, to the light, when I can’t see?” I ask myself.

 

conversations about the future, as the shelter becomes clear

As I sit with my lovely daughters on the steps of the tiny hut, it becomes clear that the sun is doing battle with the fog.  We’re right on the edge, but darkness and light, uncertainty and clarity.   Fog settles in the lowlands, and sometimes if you can just keep walking upward, you come out of it, into clarity, where you can not only see what you need to see, but see too that the light is working it’s magic, dispelling the fog below, slowly but certainly winning the war.

We press on and soon we’re utterly above it.  The tower comes into view and we arrive, bouldering on the sides of it, shedding our packs, and making our way up the spiral staircase to the ultimate view.  Before ascending though, I’m smitten by the beauty of the sun and shadows formed in the courtyard, creating a Narnia like scene, where I nearly expect Aslan to appear and surrender himself on the stone table.  It’s a moment of worship because I believe that every good gift is from God:  this sunlight, this beauty, these daughters, these friends, this health that enables us all to enjoy it all.  My God… what a giver you are!

the courtyard of the ruins: might as well be Narnia

From the top we can see that the sun is banishing clouds and fog, and I realize that this is what life is to be about.  We who follow the light of the world will, even in the midst of our own fogs, become light for others.  We do this when we practice hospitality, or generosity, or forgiveness, or simply when we continue believing that the son is banishing the darkness even though we’re in thick fog in the moment.  We are the light of the world, and as I watch the clouds depart, I pray that I’ll live into that calling more fully.

 

from up here, you'd never know there was a light/fog battle

Like Peter with Jesus when they climbed a mountain in the Bible, I want to stay up here.  But we must return, and as we do, we descend into the fog once again.  We pass through a section where the battle between light and fog is intense, right on the edge.  Then, just a bit lower, it appears that the fog has won.  But of course, we know better now.  We know that it’s just a matter of time.  We know because we’ve seen.  Sure enough, by the time we’re back to the city, the fog has been banished by the one true light.  It was beautiful.  Everywhere.

 

all is clear... and perfect... and beautiful

This isn’t just a hike.  This is advent.  We who live on the edge of light and darkness are often wondering which reality will prevail, in our lives, our families, our world.  It’s understandable to wonder, but the truth is quite clear:

I will lead the blind by a road they do not know, by paths they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground. These are the things I will do, and I will not forsake them.

Isaiah 42:16

 

returning to the fog as people who have seen the light

 

lights will prevail - don't lose hope

 

Are you longing for the light?  Keep walking upward, looking upward, hoping, believing, because the light is here and coming, battling and winning – all at the same time.

you can see the entire light/fog adventure in my photostream here.