Jesus’ life and his death was one sustained act of love toward people, and therefore it was one sustained act of revolt against the powers. … Jesus always treats human beings as victims. He never blames anybody for the infirmity that they have. Even if it was caused or influenced by demonic power, he never blames the victim. He treats them as victims. He never blames anybody for being demonized. He never says, “Boy, you must have screwed up in your past, or played with a Ouija board or something.” He just sees the need and he meets it. In fact, on the cross, what does he do? He prays, “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” Jesus never battled people. Rather, he fought for people by fighting against the powers. …
We are called to imitate Jesus in all respects. That’s what it is to be Christian, Christ-like, and therefore we’re called to wage war the way Jesus did: not against people, but against the powers. And the way we wage war against the powers is by refusing to do anything other than love people. …
Last Saturday I was at a Super-American station and I bought some windshield washer fluid. And I walked in to purchase my windshield washer fluid, and there was at the counter a Caucasian clerk and an African-American clerk. In front of the Caucasian clerk, there were two customers: one customer being checked out, and one customer waiting. In front of the African-American clerk there was no one.
So the African-American clerk calls to the person waiting in line (he was a white guy), and says “I’m open for business.” The white guy turns to him and says, “You think I’m blind? You think I’m stupid?” And then he looks over in this direction like he’s looking at some potato chips, and he says, “I’m checking out the price of potato chips, if you don’t mind!” The African-American clerk says “I’m just trying to help, letting you know that I work here.”
Then the customer that was being checked out by the Caucasian clerk left, and this guy just walks up and starts buying his stuff. He wasn’t checking out the chips. You couldn’t even see the price of chips from where he was standing. Now I’m seeing this—I haven’t seen anything this overt in quite awhile in terms of racism. And immediately my blood pressure rises, my temperature rises, my heart starts beating fast. I have an impulse to say things and do things that might not be consistent with the character of Christ. And I had to just stop and take a few deep breaths. I have to remember who the enemy is and who it isn’t. And I have to remember that it’s a mere dust particle compared to the log in my own eye, and that I’m the chief sinner. And I have to remember that my one job as a Kingdom person is to ascribe unsurpassable worth to all people at all times. And there are times when I enjoy that, and times when I hate it, and this time I hated it, but I have to do it! So I just started praying for this guy, saying “Lord, I agree with you—I’m trying to agree with you—that he has unsurpassable worth, that he was worth you dying for. And I pray blessing on his life, and I pray that you would free him from the powers.” Because the real enemy is not the guy! The real enemies are the powers that would oppress him in his racism, and me in my self-righteousness against the racist! By refusing to give into that hatred, and loving this person, that is my warfare against the powers.
—Greg Boyd, “Fighting the Right Enemy“, a sermon preached on 3/9/2008 at Woodland Hills Church
Greg Boyd: Fighting the Right Enemy
Jesus, the River
Jesus, the river.
We, the residential developers damming the river with religion on one side and human perspective on the other, that we may create a pond.
We, the home buyers eager for a coveted place next to the pond, that we may demonstrate our social status to the world.
We, the pond, overgrown with weeds and polluted from stagnation.
We, the fish who once moved with the water, deep or shallow, around bends or down waterfalls, never staying in the same place for long, and now idle and complacent.
Jesus, eternally the river.
…his voice was like the roar of many waters.
(Revelation 1:15, ESV)
Volunteering at Hope Ministries
This past Saturday I had the opportunity to volunteer at Hope Ministries here in Des Moines. Hope is a parachurch organization that brings the gospel to the homeless and poverty-stricken in practical ways. They have a number of different ministries, including a homeless shelter for men, a year-long recovery program for alcoholics and drug addicts, and a cafeteria that serves three meals a day, 365 days a year, free to anyone with no questions asked.
My friends Jeremy and Shana are part of Vineyard Community Church, and about three times a year, a group from the church will volunteer at Hope from 9:00 in the morning to 3 in the afternoon. They were doing it this weekend, so Jeremy invited Amanda and I to come along. It’s always the same basic schedule: the morning is spent sorting through donations at Hope Bargain Center on the east side of Des Moines. After that, everyone goes to Hope Café for lunch, and then in the afternoon a group goes down to the tent camps by either the Des Moines River or the Raccoon River to give food and supplies to the homeless people who live there.
It’s long, so click the link below to see my full account of the day.
List: Two Errors
Two errors: to praise the failures of the prodigal son (James 1:27, NIV), and to praise the upright life of the older brother (Philippians 3:7, 8, 9).
Two errors: to believe that you are accepted by God because of your good works (Ephesians 2:8-9), and to believe that, because you are justified by faith, God does not require your good works. (Eph. 2:10).
Two errors: to read the gospels and say “I am not a Pharisee” (1 John 1:8, 10), and to read the gospels and say “I am a Pharisee” (Matthew 5:20).
The Sanctity of Marriage, pt. 2: Christian Marriage
A few months ago, Iowa conducted its first same-sex marriage in accordance with the recent court decision passed. When seeing people’s mixed reactions, the thought occurred to me that Christians are often quick to point out what marriage is not. But what is it? What does the Bible say about it?
Many people have written entire books on the subject, so I don’t claim this to be exhaustive, but I hope it is at least complete.
The Institution of Marriage: What Is It?
- Marriage is a covenantal relationship designed to be permanent. (Malachi 2:14; Proverbs 2:17) The dissolution of the marriage covenant is equated with adultery by Jesus. (Matthew 5:32)
- Marriage is between a man and a woman. (Genesis 3:24)
- Marriage is a good thing, blessed by God. (Proverbs 18:22)
- Marriage is between Christians. We must not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. (2 Corinthians 6:14)
- Marriage is a picture, symbol, or type of the spiritual marriage between Jesus Christ and the church. (Ephesians 5:23-32)
The Countenance of Marriage: What Does It Look Like?
- The husband is to love his wife as Christ loved the church, even to the point of sacrificing his own life for her. (Ephesians 5:25)
- The wife must respect her husband. (Ephesians 5:33)
- The husband is the head (or leader) of the marriage. (1 Corinthians 11:3; Ephesians 5:23) The wife is to submit to her husband. (Ephesians 5:22) This can only be understood within the context of self-sacrificial love, as mentioned above.
- The husband is to provide for his family. (1 Timothy 5:8)
The Bible has plenty to say about marriage, but it all culminates in explaining marriage (with all its regulations) as a symbol of something greater: the relationship between Christ and the church. This picture is what we must defend. Without it, nothing else is important; it doesn’t matter how well the engine runs if you’ve lost the car keys. If you are married, but you don’t see your marriage as a reflection of Jesus Christ, then we are not talking about the same thing. You are free to do as you like.
This is why it doesn’t bother me that same-sex marriage will probably be allowed everywhere within the next decade. Don’t misunderstand: I am not in any way saying I think same-sex marriage is a good thing, or that it should be praised. I believe it’s a distortion of God’s perfect plan for families—as are single-parent homes, abusive fathers, teen pregnancy, and abortion.
But God has not chosen to bring about His kingdom through legislature. He has chosen to bring it by the changing of hearts. (See Jeremiah 31:31-35.) If my hope was in the government to uphold God’s morality, I should have given up long before now.
This past week, I rediscovered a quote by C. S. Lewis in Mere Christianity, published in 1943:
Before leaving the question of divorce, I should like to distinguish two things which are very often confused. The Christian concept of marriage is one: the other is the quite different question—how far Christians, if they are voters or Members of Parliament, ought to try to force their views of marriage on the rest of the community by embodying them in the divorce laws. A great many people seem to think that if you are a Christian yourself you should try to make divorce difficult for everyone. I do not think that. At least I know I should be very angry if the Mohammedans tried to prevent the rest of us from drinking wine. My own view is that the Churches should frankly recognise that the majority of the British people are not Christians and, therefore, cannot be expected to live Christian lives. There ought to be two distinct kinds of marriage: one governed by the State with rules enforced on all citizens, the other governed by the Church with rules enforced by her on her own members.
Nothing ever changes, does it?
John Kavanaugh: No End of Gratitude
If we could count the fears, both great and small, that once hounded us, and then thank God for each dread outcome that never materialized, we would reach no end of gratitude.
—John Kavanaugh in America, vol. 173 no. 10 (7 October 1995), p. 23
Hope and Belief
Hope is different from belief. I can believe something to be true about God and yet hope something else is true. This is not contradictory.
Here’s an example: I believe that the actions taken in life will determine a person’s eternal state (Hebrews 9:27). Most people will reject Jesus, and as a result they will experience a final separation from God. This is what I find in the Bible.
But I hope I’m wrong. The doctrine of universal reconciliation says that all people will eventually reconcile with God, whether it is in this life or the next. A rejection of Jesus in this life is not the end, because God’s grace extends through eternity. I want this to be true, and yet I don’t find anything in the Bible that clearly teaches this, so I can’t believe it.
Many people have developed their theology from their hopes. This results in a theological system that sounds good, that is very appealing to people who are turned off by traditional Christian beliefs, and which usually attracts many followers. But because it is not based on the truth of the Bible, it is misleading and harmful.
In the end, when he makes all things new, Jesus may take a trip to gather up all of the prodigals who refused to come home while they were alive. He might still rescue those lost sheep who wouldn’t follow him back to the herd. But this is not how he has chosen to reveal himself to us, and it’s not how he wanted us to understand him. I have to trust that he knows better than I do.
Forgiven: Forgive
I am not a bad driver. I’m not perfect, but I only do something stupid maybe 1 in every 10 trips. I’ll wave my hand and smile apologetically at the person I offfended, and then continue on my way like nothing happened.
But something did happen: I just reinforced that person’s idea that the city is full of terrible drivers. I put him up a notch in his own self-estimation, because at least he doesn’t drive like that. I know this is true because I have the same feeling when someone cuts in front of me with a wave and an apologetic smile.
When I encounter a person who does something irresponsible on the highway, I will immediately pass judgment, final and immutable. He’s a bad driver. I know nothing else about him. It may be the only driving mistake he’s made all year. He may be a tremendous father, a loyal husband, or the author of a good book I’ve read, but none of that matters. By remaining in the intersection a little too long this one time, he becomes nothing more than a statistic which allows me to feel better about myself.
Quick to judge, slow to show grace. I have been forgiven, and yet I don’t forgive. (What is it about driving? On my own feet I would forgive anyone for anything. I would turn the other cheek and I would show love in proportion to the amount that I am loved by God. But when I am in control of a large machine, I somehow feel that I am the machine, and cars do not need to love or forgive each other.)
Forgiveness is a release of any resentment or offense toward another person. It is a waiver of justice. It also means you’re not allowed to tell others about it, to use it in your stories when you make small talk. And it’s these little offenses that we most need to forgive, the offenses from people we do not know and will likely never see again, because these are the offenses that we’re least likely to even think to forgive.
This means forgive the coworker for using too many comma splices in his emails. Forgive the mother with the screaming child at the department store. Forgive the graffiti artist for tagging the building you have to look at on your way to church every week.
Why? Because those people you see as you travel, as you buy, as you socialize, as you work—they’re Jesus! Every last one of them is Jesus.
Kurt Vonnegut: Chaos to Order
I had no respect whatsoever for the creative works of either the painter or the novelist. I thought Karabekian with his meaningless pictures had entered into a conspiracy with millionaires to make poor people feel stupid. I thought Beatrice Keedsler had joined hands with other old-fashioned storytellers to make people believe that life had leading characters, minor characters, significant details, insignificant details, that it had lessons to be learned, tests to be pased, and a beginning, a middle, and an end.
As I approached my fiftieth birthday, I had become more and more enraged and mystified by the idiot decisions made by my countryment. And then I had come suddenly to pity them, for I understood how innocent and natural it was for them to behave so abominably, and with such abominable results: They were doing their best to live like people invented in story books. This was the reason Americans shot each other so often: It was a convenient literary device for ending short stories and books.
Why were so many Americans treated by their government as though their lives were as disposable as paper facial tissues? Because that was the way authors customarily treated bit-part players in their made-up tales.
And so on.
Once I understood what was making America such a dangerous, unhappy nation of people who had nothing to do with real life, I resolved to shun storytelling. I would write about life. Every person would be exactly as important as any other. All facts would also be given equal weightiness. Nothing would be left out. Let others bring order to chaos. I would bring chaos to order, instead, which I think I have done.
If all writers would do that, then perhaps citizens not in the literary trades will understand that there is no order in the world around us, that we must adapt ourselves to the requirements of chaos instead.
It is hard to adapt to chaos, but it can be done. I am living proof of that: It can be done.
- Kurt Vonnegut in Breakfast of Champions, p. 209
The First Drink
Luther said, “How is it that the first drink from a tankard tastes best? Perhaps it’s on account of sin, because our flesh and our lips are sinful.” He wondered if it was because sin has so deeply permeated our bodies that even our taste buds will gravitate toward what is wrong at every chance they get.
I disagree, on the grounds that it also happens with soda—though I wouldn’t expect Luther to have known that the same thing is true of non-alcoholic carbonated drinks. Whether it’s Hefeweizen, Champagne or Diet Coke, you have about 30 seconds from the time it is opened before most of the carbonation has escaped, and with it, the flavor.
The bottling companies will only ever advertise that first drink. They haven’t yet found out how to make something that’s truly “good to the last drop”. All the people on television or billboards who ever looked happy using the product were just taking their first drink. This is the driving force behind everything we buy: they’ll sell us a small slice of heaven, but make us believe we’re buying the whole thing.
The world has promised us happiness, but its happiness is a tree rooted in sand. It’s unsustainable. The first drink is flavored by the evacuation of the flavor, like the brilliance of a dying star. It was sealed in a can for a time, but as soon as the can is opened, the goodness escapes into the atmosphere and beyond our reach. And what’s left is not satisfying.
Purity in this world is fleeting. By the time we discover it, it’s already begun to dissipate. The sound of a plucked note before it starts to decay, the sizzle of fajitas from the restaurant kitchen, the forest just before it’s cleared for residential development—it’s all just a glimpse of an unfallen world, a perfection we can clasp sometimes but never capture.
