Shoring Up Our Souls

FOLLOWING JESUS IS a mindset, a way of thinking as much as a way of being. In fact, one is not able to “be” a Christian without having a “change of mind,” a metanoia, the Greek word used in the New Testament for “repentance.” This change of mind or repentance, however, does not come from debates or argument. Rather, becoming like Christ is trying to figure out what it means to be one of his followers. “Lord, I want to be a Christian in my heart,” says the “Negro” spiritual. Depending on the version, the songwriter chooses to “be more loving,” “be more holy,” and “be like Jesus” for the verses that follow.

It may be fitting that we do not know who wrote this song or where it originates, except from the hardscrabble lives of enslaved people in the U.S. Imagine with me what it might have been like to sing these words under such suffering and brutal conditions in order to uphold a horrific system. But instead of reflecting passive acceptance, these words might have been a means to shore up enslaved persons’ souls so they could live antithetically to that system. It certainly works that way for me, in the face of death-dealing encounters and events. This month’s texts give us an opportunity to not only sing this song, but to meditate on it and do our best to practice it. Maybe we will become more Christian in our hearts and in our actions. We will have to want it.

October 4

Sharing in the Suffering

Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20; Psalm 19; Philippians 3:4-14; Matthew 21:33-46

WHAT DOES IT mean to share in Christ’s suffering? I’ve bandied this question around in my mind for some time as I have pondered the Philippians text. Paul, of course, had shared in persecuting early believers before he became a convert himself. Trying to make sense and meaning of that suffering and people’s losses must have been a constant project for those trying to encourage the early church. Here, Paul takes on what it has meant to “lose everything.” His pedigree is impeccable; his credentials unassailable; his attendance to the law, meticulous. And yet, none of that matters to him after he committed to “knowing Christ Jesus” (verse 8). Those things—status and power—are on the trash heap as far as he is concerned. But what comes in its stead is suffering, even as he longs to “know Christ and the power of his resurrection” (verse 10). For Paul, you can’t get to the power of the resurrection without sharing in Christ’s suffering. But what does that mean?

In our times, some people would say that those who bear the burden of unjust laws, inequality, and racial animus are “sharing in Christ’s suffering” because they suffer unjustly. And I’ve also had conversations with Christians who say to “share in Christ’s suffering” means one should not resist injustice. I resist that interpretation. If anything, it seems Jesus as the Christ suffered before crucifixion precisely because he shared in the suffering of the people around him. He welcomed the most vulnerable and defended them. He railed against abuse and misuse of authority in the temple and the palace. And some believe that stance got him killed. So maybe sharing in this suffering is living the kind of life Jesus lived, so much so that it costs you something more than reputation and position—it might actually put your mortal body in danger. You might receive death threats from those who do not want the gospel to infuse the work of justice- and peacemaking among people. Maybe even these possibilities are a part of the goal toward which we strain. The prize is on the other side.

October 11

What Are We Thinking?

Exodus 32:1-14; Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23; Philippians 4:1-9; Matthew 22:1-14

IT’S EASY TO focus on a dystopian view of the world. When I was a reporter, in what seems like a lifetime ago, one of the mottos in the newsroom was “if it bleeds, it leads.” The news, in other words, is not exciting unless it is related to the most awful thing that has happened in a human community that day. And now that news is a 24/7 reality, we can get a constant dose of bad news. The current anxiety and sadness people feel is with good cause. I would never want to downplay the horror of the times in which we live. Death seems to be stalking us more than usual with a global pandemic and civil unrest demanding change to the U.S. society. It’s been a difficult year. But when news outlets “look for the helpers,” they relegate their feel-good stories to about two minutes, usually after 28 minutes of tragedy.

That phrase, “look for the helpers,” comes from Fred Rogers of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood fame. It was meant to support very young children when they are frightened by the news, not to paralyze adults into doing nothing. But it might help us reorient our thinking to focus on whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, and commendable (see Philippians 4:8). What might it mean if we bathe our prayer life in this orientation of the word, if we let go of worry as much as possible and pray with thanksgiving (verse 6)? What if we start our day with prayer and thanksgiving before we reach for social media or the television remote? What if we look for joy to temper the rage we understandably feel in the face of bad news? What if, instead of just looking for the helpers, we learn and keep learning how to become one of them (or “some of them,” if we figure out how to collectively do it)? Maybe peacemaking lives in this reorientation to the world.

October 18

In Whose Image?

Exodus 33:12-23; Psalm 99; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10; Matthew 22:15-22

AT FIRST, JESUS’ quip in Matthew 22 to “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s” sounds as if Jesus calls for a live-and-let-live relationship to the empire. But we must read it through the lens of context. Some religious leaders show up to entrap him (verse 15). Flattery will get them nowhere, not even as they say, “We know that you are sincere” (verse 16) and more. Their words are complimentary, but their motives are malicious (verse 22).

I find the writer’s observation instructive. How are we to discern motives, if not by what people say? I think it comes to observing prior behavior. It can’t just be something that Jesus does, because we all have to have this kind of discernment about people’s intentionality, and frankly, about our own intentionality. The leaders come to Jesus with an “either/or” question--in asking about the lawfulness of paying taxes, they present a false argument. These leaders really want Jesus to “choose” between empire laws or his own vision of the world. Jesus responds by taking a coin and asking them, “Whose head is this, and whose title?” He follows this with instruction to give to the emperor what belongs to him and to God what belongs to God (verse 21).

In our day, how do we understand these words? One way is to pay taxes and work to change unjust tax codes. Or, if you break a law because you believe it is an unjust one, being willing to suffer the consequences of that decision—this is civil disobedience. We will sometimes have to discern when to just “pay the tax” because of whose image is on the coin and when to honor God in a different way, since we humans are the image of God ( imago dei). For justice-seeking Christians, we make these decisions as a part of our faith commitments. We often are tested as to whether we will bow to the will and ways of empire or render to God what belongs only to God, which is our allegiance. In these tests, we find the best way to answer Jesus’ question: “Whose image?”

October 25

A World of Love

Deuteronomy 34:1-12; Psalm 90:1-6, 13-17; 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8; Matthew 22:34-46

LOVE GOD; LOVE your neighbor. These words seem so simple as the “greatest commandments.” I don’t even understand why Matthew describes this question as “the test” (Matthew 22:36). For the faithful, it would seem these priorities ought to be paramount. One would not need to know all the law or read all the prophets for these words to resonate as important. But the question comes as a test to Jesus, perhaps to trap him, since he had silenced previous inquisitors (see verse 34).

If we were grilled with questions to expose what we think are the most important commandments, would we be convicted of choosing these priorities? Once, a man screamed at me that he thought I wanted everyone to be saved. Read that again. That is exactly what he screamed: “You act like you want everyone to be saved.” He was exasperated because I had said that, no matter how angry I am at the way the world works (and I am), and no matter how disappointing humans can be (and they can be), I continue to want people to know the power of God’s love, and I continue to want to be a conduit of that love for them. Or as my friend Dwayne Royster says, “I want to love the hell out of people.”

I believe that when we turn our hearts toward God and learn to love God completely—a lifelong pursuit—it makes it possible to love people. Now, while I want to be the person to which I aspire, let me be real and say it’s not easy either to love God or people. God can be so silent; people can be so insufferable. But, if we are going to help God usher in a world made new and full of love, then we must answer the same question put to Jesus, “Which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” (verse 36) And maybe there will be questions we will never be able to answer, like the one Jesus put to those gathered: “What do you think about the Messiah?” But if we answer the first question with integrity, the rest may not be as important.