Category: theology

sovereign intervention

~ dwc ~ Leave a comment

I think I believe two seemingly contradictory concepts.

On the one hand, I believe that God has made the world in such a way as to respond to and use our actions, including our prayers. Despite our preferences for a God as predictable (and controllable) as a machine, equally and lawfully distributing oxygen, planets, miracles and tsunamis, God sometimes seems to act like an interventionist genie, conjured up by profiteering faith-healers and televangelists. How embarrassing.

On the other hand, I believe that God is by definition the kind of being who is unchanging, eternal, and thus God will do what God will do no matter what. Whether we forget or remember to pray, a little or a lot, as individuals or in global concert, praying for vague blessings or specifically for things we are certain that the God of Scripture would approve of, God sometimes seems totally OK with being perceived as Richard Dawkins’ blind watchmaker. How disappointing.

To reference a couple of book titles by Pete Greig, the articulate and wise international founder of 24-7 Prayer, God is both the God of the shocking miracles of Dirty Glory, and the shameful silence of God on Mute.

How then, should we pray to this kind of God? We could make at least two errors.

On the one hand, we could pray our foot-stomping, confidently contending, passionately persisting prayers, dripping with biblically shameful audacity for God to break in act like an interventionist deity, and all the while forget to leave God any room to have a different purpose or plan than us for that situation. Tragically, we could do serious damage to our faith or the faith of others – all simply because we had a view of God that was not large enough to allow God to be both responsive and sovereign.

On the other hand, we could pray safe tidy prayers that cover all theological contingencies, making our prayers little more than self-referential pontifications pointed at God reminding him – and us – that basically we should remember to trust in his machine-like sovereign faithfulness over all things; all the while failing to have the prophetic imagination that God may be willing and postured to act from eternity within time in what we can only call a ‘response’ to something we pray. Tragically, we could fail to see healing of relationships or withered hands, or the confrontation of unjust systems or personal sin – all just because we had a view of God that was too arrogantly sophisticated to allow that God frequently does his work on earth through humans.

So then.

Let us pray with that strange and holy cocktail of deep assurance in a very large and unimaginably sovereign Father reigning over all things, and childlike urgency that can ask with unassuming and open-hearted expectancy for good gifts from the same sovereign interventionist Father.

accept what I resent, change what I fear

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Step 4 of Alcoholics Anonymous, which involves making a “searching and fearless moral inventory” has two significant categories: resentments and fears. Through making this inventory, and sharing it with another person, I can become awake to the ways that my anger (justified or not) and my fears are operating in ways that are not helping me (or, for the alcoholic, driving them to alcoholic obsession and compulsive drinking).

The famous Serenity Prayer also has two major categories: things I cannot change, and things I can. In this prayer, I ask God for serenity to accept the former, and the courage to change the latter.

I think these categories neatly align.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…
…which are probably the things I resent… and my lack of acceptance of them will not serve me well. 

Courage to change the things I can…
… which are probably the things I’m afraid of trying to change… my lack of courageously trying to change them will not serve me well.

peace through prayer

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The ultimate goal of God is shalom.

God desires flourishing relationships in all possible relational directions between all entities – God, self, others, creation. In one sense, those relationships are really simple. God creates and sustains all things by eternal gift. Creation, crowned by the humans that image God’s generous love, share in the gifts and the giving to one another. In the swirling mass of relationships we negotiate every day, this perfect peace would play out at dinner tables, in restaurant kitchens, on crop fields, through international trade, in halls of politics and power, and alongside the neural pathways of each and every brain. Everything as it should be. Sounds nice.

But from Genesis 3, a fatal disease has been corrupting these relationships. And that disease is fear. I have a thesis that all fear can be framed as fear of loss. Everything we value – relationship, freedom, life, meaning – we fear to lose. This fear takes up residence in our minds and hearts and poisons all of our thinking, imagining, planning, self-protecting and wondering about life, our families, our friends, our work, our goals, the situations we inhabit. Fear drives us.

In some sense, it seems to be obvious that dealing with fear involves paying attention to and shaping my postures and attitudes towards the things I fear to lose. Perhaps Christian Scripture and Yoda (think Episode III – Revenge of the Sith) agree – I must Trust in the Lord and Let Go of everything I fear to lose. And it seems that prayer is the simplest and most effective tool we have for doing this work.

In Philippians 4, Paul gives some famously helpful guidance on how to pray. This guidance deals directly with the fear and anxiety problem we have in our relationships (and it’s interesting that he gives this guidance immediately following his discussion of an interpersonal conflict – a relationship needing some shalom – between Euodia and Syntyche). He writes:

4 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5 Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Some observations.

  1. Joy evaporates fear like light chases away darkness. It’s so important that Paul repeats himself.
  2. The language is sweeping. When do I Rejoice? Always… Pray about what? Every situation… Anxiety? No, not about anything.
  3. No specific ‘answers to prayer’ are promised here, but it is promised that my anxious heart and my obsessed mind are protected by ‘the peace of God and they can rest from fear and trying to understand whatever is happening.

the good muslim

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A Contemporary Targum of Luke 10:25-37

One day, an expert in theological ethics went to Jesus to test him. “Lord… How do I live in such a way that it looks like I am a part of the people aligned with heaven?. What’s the just and righteous way to live, here and now?”

“Do you have a Bible?” he replied, “Give me your hot take on biblical ethics.”

“Well, Jesus, as you know the Bible is a big book, filled with a lot of stories and moments that people debate this way and that. And ethics is complex, man! My doctoral thesis explores this in detail… of course…” The expert’s sentence trailed off… [At this point Jesus looked at the expert with a kind puzzled look, wondering if he was actually going to answer his question or not…] The expert regathered himself and continued… “But sure… yes… a summary… Yes, I do think… when you read it as one story… an overarching metanarrative… and let the obvious parts function as a lens to interpret the hard to-understand parts… I reckon the basic message of the Bible is all about love. Love as far up as you can imagine – to the God of all creation – with all you have; emotion, identity, action and intellect; and love other humans because that’s how you’d want to be treated too.”

“Impressive!” Jesus replied. “Now those are some good theological ethics, right there. If you put those ethical theories into practice, my friend, you’re on the right track.”

The religious expert instantly felt threatened. He wondered why Jesus had said ‘if’ he put that into practice. Was Jesus suggesting that he maybe wasn’t already putting his theology into practice? He was a good guy. He had good ‘balanced’ theology, after all… Surely Jesus agreed with him, right? So, to make sure he was right, he asked another question. “But Jesus… it’s not really that simple, right? I mean, whose ethical interpretation do I hold to? Surely you’re aware how hard ethical debates can be. Especially with the internet and social media echo chambers splitting us into tribes? Each one thinks ‘they’ are right and the ‘others’ are wrong, you know? Everyone defines ‘love’ differently… It’s grey chaos and feisty angst out there, right?”

In reply, Jesus told this story: “One morning, a drag queen was going to their day job. They weren’t wearing their drag outfit, make-up and bling, but a group of frat boys recognized the drag queen. ‘Hey,’ they said to one another, ‘it’s that drag queen who’s been in the news.” Their blood vessels and brain synapses surging with testosterone and ego, they mocked and teased the drag queen, getting up in their face, yelling and intimidating. The drag queen pushed them away asking to be left alone. That was all the boys needed to begin mercilessly beating him. Four on one, it was no contest. They ran away laughing, leaving the drag queen in blood-soaked tears.”‘

“From across the street, a minister had seen the last few seconds of the encounter. He was from a church that had the word ‘Bible’ in its name, and he had also watched the news stories about this drag queen. He prided himself that he would have never been violent like those frat boys, but reasoned that maybe this drag queen would learn from this and reflect on their actions. Tough love seemed a fitting response. So he put his head down and kept walking, thanking God that he had not gotten himself into the kind of mess that this poor drag queen had.”

“Walking right behind the minister was a well-known MP for a very left-leaning party. She had an urgent and confident pace, and was wearing a rainbow pin as an expression of her allyship to rainbow folk. She was head-down in her phone and hadn’t even noticed what was going on. A conservative family member had posted something negative about (ironically) the very drag queen who lay bleeding across the road. She was sharing that story on her own page, with her own corrective comments, soundly demonstrating that she was on the right side of history. She walked onwards, totally oblivious to the drag queen who lay distraught just a few meters away…”

“But then,” Jesus continued, “a Muslim was walking behind both the pastor and the MP. He had been out for his morning prayers and had seen the frat boys do their worst. He’d already phoned for help as he crossed the road to attend to the drag queen. When he reached the drag queen, the Muslim greeted him, ‘Hello, brother. I’ve called for some help. Is it OK if I check your wounds?” The Muslim sat down on the concrete sidewalk next to the drag queen and put his arm around them, providing serviettes he had in his pocket to stop the bleeding from the drag queen’s nose and mouth. He sat with them until the ambulance arrived. On his lunch break the next day, he visited the drag queen in the hospital and helped them contact their other friends and family who were eager to visit. Without posting on social media, he also secretly donated a sacrificial amount to an organisation set up to care for people who are victims of things like crime or discriminatory violence.”

Jesus paused and then asked the expert in religion a question: “Tell me which of these three, the minister, the MP or the Muslim… which one loved the drag queen as they would want to be loved?”

The expert in religious ethics hesitated. He was not only well-read in ethics and philosophy, but also apologetics. He knew with exacting certainty why he was a Christian and not a Muslim… Finally he mumbled, “Well, I suppose you’d have to say it was the third one, who… you know… helped him.”

Jesus looked at him with compassion and said, “Yes, that’s the one, my friend. This difficult and challenging teaching I’m giving you now is about action. Action that shows your beliefs have travelled from your brain to your gut. Action that directly and practically helps. Not just having ‘correct morals’ to win theological debates… Not mere ‘performative allyship’ to show the Metaverse how loving you are… Action. Real, humane action. Real compassion. Go and do likewise.”

psalm 16 observations

~ dwc ~ Leave a comment

Here were my observations from reading Psalm 16 this morning.

  • “O my soul, you have said to the Lord, “You are my Lord…” Here David is talking to himself, or specifically to his ‘soul’. Not only this, he is talking to his soul about what his soul has talked to the Lord about. David seems to be trying to reach down to his deepest commitment to rekindle it, to tend the flame of faith. I think we are deeply committed to many things and don’t realize it? To looking good, to being successful, to avoiding this or that situation that we are afraid of, to trying to make the world a better place (according to the standard of the cultures reflected on our television, tablet, computer and/or phone screens). David here reaches into the deepest part of himself, and rekindles his deepest commitment to the deepest and most Ultimate Reality imaginable. The Lord.
  • “My goodness is nothing apart from You” Long before King Jesus the Son of David taught about abiding in the vine and declared that “apart from me you can do nothing” King David relativizes his goodness in relationship to God. David is going to be turning soon to talk about goodies (“the saints”) and baddies (people “who hasten after another god”). But before those reflections, he recognizes God as the one whose goodness enables, undergirds, defines and sharpens all goodness.
  • “The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places…” David has just reflected on the self-destructive result of idol worship. All the drinking blood and chanting of names cannot improve my life. Actually it makes it worse. It only adds a sense of futility to suffering: “Their sorrows shall be multiplied.” How different is the blood of the new covenant and taking the name of Jesus on our lips! But that’s for another post. Here we note the contrast of David’s gratitude. Because the Lord is his ‘inheritance’, he can enjoy and delight in his ‘lot’ in life.
  • “My flesh also will rest in hope…” This is the line just before he goes on to give those famous lines quoted in the New Testament (Acts 2) about his soul not being left in Sheol (the Grave). Rightly, like Peter at Pentecost proclaimed, the Grave is not the end for those who ‘rest in hope’. Christ is risen, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. We will rise with him.
  • “At your right hand…” In verse 8, David has just talked about the Lord being “at my right hand”. Out of context, we might misunderstand this as David imagining God as a religious trinket, a little genie in his pocket, or a voice on his right shoulder. No. David knows that the Lord is the One whom the heavens cannot contain. But the transcendent God is also immanent: “at my right hand”. The one sustaining and fixing the very laws of nature, the ones we know and the ones we don’t, is the one who is close with us with the result that we “shall not be moved.”

God the ultimate accepter

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I’m in the midst of running a project for work that involves around 50 or so people. It puts me in collaborative partnership with a filming studio, audio technicians, receptionists, just over 40 contributors, station content directors, and producers.

It’s going really well and I’m enjoying the process. No complaints of any real magnitude.

There have been the odd moment of something happening a way that I didn’t expect, didn’t want or didn’t plan for. Perhaps my enjoyment of the process is entirely due to my ability to process these little issues with acceptance.

I’ve been reflecting on acceptance. In my experience it’s easier to accept something when I know that I have absolutely no ability to control or manage it. If I feel even a bit like I can influence the outcome, I start to be a bit less accepting of the outcome being what I do not want. It’s worse when the ‘thing’ is connected to or reflects upon me.

Nobody would suggest that acceptance is the only principle to life one’s life by. If we accepted everything in the most literal sense, we would become entirely passive spectators in life. Never participating consciously, actively, assertively. We would be not living life, but watching life go by.

Too much acceptance can be a problem. But instead I’ve been reflecting on the problem of too little acceptance. It’s a problem when I try to control things that I should not try to control.

As the Ultimate Being who created, oversees and is redeeming all of Reality, God is by definition the most ‘in control’ entity imaginable. Christians, and all other monotheists, believe that not one quasar or quark pulsates without the power and permission of Creator God. And yet, God seems to have chosen to be (at the same time) the most ‘accepting’ entity. Christians believe that although God could force planets, persons and plant-life to do precisely as he wants, he nonetheless has chosen not to do so. God has given various kinds of real freedom to various kinds of created things.

I don’t believe that the shape of scope which the universe has taken is of any surprise to God, but at the same time, I believe that God has, without being in any way detached or distant from nature (I’m not a deist), not micromanaged every microscopic moment. Rather, like a Mother or Father, God loving watches over the thing which he has so lovingly and wisely created. Trees grow according to their genetic code, seeking sunlight and water. Each tree takes a unique shape. And yet each tree is playing by the same rules and restrictions. One doesn’t see a tree suddenly sprout forth a horse’s head.

Humans too, are free to choose, train themselves this or that way, to develop as they wish. And yet, we cannot fly. We can’t survive like fish underwater. We are not as strong as some animals. This freedom is from God.

So God is in control but not controlling.

God is the ultimate accepter.

At times, we try to control others in ways that God doesn’t. We must have convinced ourselves that God requires our help making the world the way he wants it.

And of course this too is not entirely wrong. God does delegate. God works, speaks, heals and rules through humans. But perhaps at times we need to remember to be a bit more godlike in allowing others to be and to do what they wish.

God does this constantly and on a breathtaking scale with humanity. Humans are always violating God’s will. We lie, cheat, and steal. And the God who is constantly speaking and wooing us away from such sins, nonetheless has chosen to be the kind of God who will not step in and force us to do the right thing. We are beautifully and tragically free.

God is the ultimate accepter.

And we too, must learn to mirror God in his longsuffering acceptance of others. Most of all when their choices interfere with my preferences and plans.

It doesn’t mean we never try to influence things. It doesn’t mean we can never have a leadership position. It does mean that, like God, we have to restrain ourselves from pushing others past a certain point.

We must accept as God the ultimate accepter does.

the tempting evil of unforgiveness

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In Matthew 6, Jesus gives masterful teaching about prayer. He understands with perfect clarity the way that our egos work as we relate to others in the world.

The usual form of the Lord’s Prayer that most of us know and use is a combination of the versions given here in Matthew 6 and in Luke 11. With this combined form in mind, Matthew’s version seems to end abruptly. And on top of this, the follow up teaching on forgiveness seems a bit late, coming after the final bit about temptation and evil. It can feel like the gospel writers (or Jesus) made a literary mistake and got the order of lines out of whack. Something like:

  • pray this way about forgiveness
  • and finally, pray also about temptation and evil
  • Oh yeah, rewind back to forgiveness, I got a tad more to say on that…

This apparent disorder vanishes when I recall that Jesus (and the gospel writers) were rather intelligent people, and when I recognise that unforgiveness is a very common, tempting, and evil tendency for humans.

Jesus, we must remember, is the one with the most important and accurate information on humanity. He knows precisely how our egos tend to judge others and justify ourselves. He knows this tendency is profoundly common, very tempting, and he rightly uses the language of ‘evil’ directly in the middle of it all. Positively, Jesus knows what how we must think, act, and pray to counter this. With the greatest urgency, we must learn, practice and keep practicing the art of being a forgiving person.

Jesus knows how natural it is for us to point the finger of judgment at ‘them’. Look at what ‘they’ did. He knows how quickly we assume that ‘we’ would not (indeed, could not) ever do what ‘they’ did. Jesus knows that if I insist that I could never do what ‘they’ did (to me or to others), then I don’t think I need the same kind of forgiveness that ‘they’ do. He knows how this self-righteous judgment blocks me from fully savoring – and sharing – the forgiveness that the Father so freely offers me.

So then, I can read these verses more like this…

“Forgive us our various kinds of sins, just as we keep on practicing forgiving others of their various kinds of sins.
After all, do we not all stand in need of forgiveness, and could we not all see ourselves in one another?
Keep us from being tempted away from forgiveness like this.
Deliver us from the evil One who is the source of all blame, finger-pointing, gossip, and discord.
Deliver us into the free and forgiving arms of You, our Father.”
For this is how forgiveness works. It has to be shared to be experienced. Your Father is eagerly watching and waiting for us to get our hearts in a posture that can receive forgiveness and share it. It just doesn’t work any other way.

the disturbing arrival of just mercy

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For those of us in contexts with a wealth of technology and media (and a poverty of contentment and patience), many of us are feeling weary, tired and over it. This is an exhaustion that goes deeper than number of hours worked or slept. It is an underlying dissatisfaction with things… something… or maybe everything.

Further Fracturing…

Humans have had their usual military, political and personal dramas for aeons. But something is different. There is growing division and distrust and distance from one another. We are losing hope. Relationships seem more fragile. We have more and more reasons to avoid one another. More and more things are harder and harder to talk about. Discourse is toxic. Extremes widen. We seem strangely eager to uncover wrongs, and understandably terrified of being seen to be affiliated with anything wrong. We are determined to be right, or at least less wrong than ‘them’.

And underneath this, we are slowly waking up to the reality that our greatest boast in the modern world, science, is not the simple saviour we had hoped it was. We are beginning to admit that even an impressively comprehensive collection of accurate factoids cannot itself provide the epistemic basis for meaning, value, justice, human rights, compassion.

Worse still, it seems that our heroic efforts at making a more just world sooner or later take on the broken and fragile characteristics of our individual and collective psychologies. Our demonizing, defensiveness, vengeance, resentment, superiority (so often mixed with inferiority), fear and hopelessness end up pouring fuel on the fires of injustice. Seeking justice, we create more injustice.

As the Psalms frequently invite us to do: “Selah” (reflect on this for a moment)

The God of Just Mercy

The Christmas story, amidst all the consumptive noise, unintentionally exclusive gatherings, Santa hats and holiday ‘meh’, is about the arrival of the God of just mercy.

Luke’s historically-savvy Gospel understood well the reality of Roman oppression of 1st century Israel. Luke captures the song known as Mary’s Magnificat (see Luke 1:45-55), rich with feisty social justice themes of powerful people being cast down and rich being sent away empty, while the humble are lifted up and the poor are filled with good things. Despite what you may hear on streets or screens, the biblical Gospel was never only about individuals going to heaven after they die. God longs for his fair and just rule to be realised here on earth. Now.

To riff off of Isaiah 58, God is the breath in the lungs of the oppressed when they ‘lift up their voice’ (v.1) against oppressors – even (especially!?) religious oppressors (‘my people’ / ‘the descendants of Jacob’ v.1).

The Bible clearly and consistently shows God to despise oppression and injustice, but we should not mistake the Gospel for the kind of popular rage that wants to burn it all down. God doesn’t burn for the sake of burning. Like a farmer burning off a field, the fire is for fresh grass to grow.

The Magnificat ends with mercy.

Yes, the immediate focus is on mercy to the ancestors of Abraham, but those who know Scripture will recall that Abraham (Genesis 12:1-3) and his people had a vocation not simply to burn with judgmental finger-pointing at the nations forever, but to be a channel of blessing to them. The prophet Jeremiah knew that even in exile among their oppressors, the victim mentality that so often justifies violence would do them no good. Before Christ ever said “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you”, he told the captives to “seek the peace of the city…” Even in Babylon, a city continually reminding Israel of their oppression, Jeremiah wants them to have a different stronger memory of his words that “in its peace you shall have peace.” (Jeremiah 29)

God is not revealed as a tyrant in the thunderclouds, who gets a real kick every time he gets a chance to topple, expose, shame or punish someone. Yes, God is angry at oppression to be sure. But God knew the familiar patterns of injustice long before we did. God knows that oppressors often justify their oppression with their own claimed (or maybe even real) experience of oppression. God knows the cycle. Nobody’s hands are really clean.

Justice – and Mercy – for Everyone?

God knows that justice has to be mixed with mercy and hope – for everyone.
Obviously the oppressed… but even oppressors.

The Oppressed are offered hope that oppression will not go unpunished in the end, and practical real-world assistance as the God of justice empowers down-to-earth help from their neighbours, allies and prophets.

As for Oppressors, yes they are summoned to repair the damage they’ve done as best they can, but they too are offered the hope of renewal and new life. For Israel who “oppresses all [their] workers” and more, they are challenged to change, for sure.

But… they are also told of the life they can have if they do.

“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
    with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
    and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
    and your night will become like the noonday.
11 The Lord will guide you always;
    he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
    and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
    like a spring whose waters never fail.

And that is at least one ingredient that missing in our world. A justice that is merciful and vulnerable. A justice for all. Hope for all. A God whose compassionate justice – whose just mercy – is well described from the times of Exodus:

The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, 7 maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished…”

Punishment and Forgiveness.
Justice and Mercy.
Consequences and Restoration.
Held together in redemptive, transformative tension.

This God does not leave oppressors to oppress. The consequences of injustice are firm and full punishment. But nonetheless, even the “wickedness, rebellion and sin” of oppressors can be forgiven and overcome.

The author of the persistently profound hymn extolling the wonder of a Grace that “saved a wretch like me” is none other than an oppressor – the former slave-owner John Newton.

This is a merciful justice that may disrupt our popular rage or political resentment. But it just may be the one solution to injustice that actually works. If we would have the courage, and yes the mercy, to give it a try.

Have a merry and merciful (and just) Christmas.

sword & shield v. cross & towel

~ dwc ~ Leave a comment

All humans carry a sword and a shield.

We strike out at and critique others with our verbal, philosophical, political, social or literal swords. We block and defend ourselves from criticism with our good intentions, mimising excuses, self-justifying reasoning. Our shields.

It’s not that we should never defend ourselves, and I don’t know if we should be surprised that people and nations frequently want to have at least some kind of readiness to respond to violence. It’s just that the sword and shield become a way of being. They shape us into people whose tendency is to critique others and defend ourselves.

This even happens within ourselves, psychologically. We divide ourselves into parts: parent / child, good / bad, the rebel / the law, or what have you… One part of us critiques the other part, and the other part defends itself. We don’t have to suffer from multiple-personality disorder to relate to the experience of feeling simultaneously innocent and righteous on the one hand and victimised and full of self pity on the other hand. It’s the sword and shield again. Just directed inward.

Christianity offers a way of life where we trust God to be our sword and shield.

We don’t need to take up the sword against others and sort them out. (Or ourselves.) God is just. (And merciful.) The biblical wisdom is that God almost always does this in his usual way – by delegation. Natural law, imperfect human governments, communal or relational systems. Injustice has its day, but eventually gets toppled. When we try to rush the process with our swords, we end up becoming what we hate.

We also don’t need to overly defend or protect ourselves from critique. God is our fortress, tower, shield, and defender. The great irony is that when I live in the freedom of not worrying what might happen to me (gossip, violence, theft, you name it), those things don’t have any power over me. I trust that God will deal with them as he will, and when he will. Ultimately, the biblical narrative promises a final justice that will heal all wounds and restore all things. I can choose to take comfort in that.

Christ – at Christmas and at all times – comes to us asking for an exchange.
He wants our swords and shields, and offers us a cross and a towel.

I am offered a cross. An instrument of death and violence to myself. I am not expected to do what Jesus alone could do – atone for the sins of the world. I am invited, expected or even commanded to follow his way. To ‘take up my cross and follow’ him. To live sacrificially is not the way of self-loathing – constantly criticizing, punishing and judging myself. As the cliche truth goes, it’s not “thinking less of myself, but thinking of myself less.”

And this leads to the towel. I am to become a servant. Not a show off servant. Not “Hey everyone, I’m just going to pick up this piece of rubbish… aren’t I a great person….” Not “Hey everyone, look how pissed off I am about social injustice… I probably hate oppressors more than anyone I know…” Not this. Real service. Service that can go unnoticed. Uncelebrated.

The world is full of divided politics, communities, families and selves. If we’re honest, we’ll be able to see how we participate in wleding the sword of criticism, and raising the shield of self-justification.

The world needs more cross bearers and towel servants.

That is precisely what Jesus taught and modeled. It is his plan to bring his kingdom where needs are provided for, sinners are forgiven, and humans live in grateful peace.

the primal temptation: a poem

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The ancient story is my biography.
It’s true.
It recapitulates the shape of my soul.

I’m simply unfit for the tree.
Unqualified to quantify
good and evil.
Such eternal and infinite matters,
like pretending to pose as The Tree of Life
to reach out and touch it
must always stay beyond my grasp.

Lord, put a flaming sword
between me and my desire to dethrone you
and resentfully rule others.

It’s a sad story.
But I love its luxury.

A story of I and Thou.
A script of Good and Evil.

thou art always the toxic problem.
I forever the pure solution.

The familiar arc of injustice
The boring trajectory of self-justification
Blind to my logs
Seeing only your sawdust.

The story sticks to me
and makes me Stuck.
Incurvatis in se.

Lord, pierce my heart with that ancient flaming sword.
I want to help you renew all creation.
Tikkun Olam.

But I only fix
by first finding my faults.
Mea culpa.

Not my brother,
not my sister.
it’s me.
Kyrie Eleison.