Now That Something Has Happened

I will not be sharing this to social media. The arguments have become too deafeningly shrill to add to the noise. This is more for my own mental therapy. I will add to this blog as I continue to think about this issue:

Just a few days ago, the "Muslim Ban" was just a rumor, but now there has been an executive order signed. Now, America is in another fierce debate on what this all means.

The issues get muddy quickly when dealing with complex politics like this. What exactly does the language of the order mean? What is the full future intentions of the executive branch? How does this compare to past administrations?

I do not have the expertise or the emotional energy to say much more, but I will say two things:

1.  No amount of comparison to Obama should matter. To so many, nothing Obama did was good enough. So, it cannot now be a litmus test for this administration. Saying, "Well, Obama did something similar" is more than too late.

2. In a recent National Review article, it was argued: "He backed down dramatically from his campaign promises and instead signed an executive order dominated mainly by moderate refugee restrictions and temporary provisions aimed directly at limiting immigration from jihadist conflict zones." This was said in an argument stating that people are overreacting.

First of all, this is his very first action as President towards refugees. Thus, this cannot be called a step-back from his promise, but a step towards. He has only drawn closer to his (and this is a funny, but telling word choice) promise.

Second, from where I'm sitting, it seems that the only people satisfied with this argument as excusing these actions as "not that bad" are those who already supported Trump's position towards refugees before they knew the details of the order. Retrospectively arguing for the now "moderate" step that has been made seems short-sighted, and here's why:

This man DID say he wanted a COMPLETE BAN ON MUSLIMS (in reference to refugees in particular). So that people are frustrated that he has made this new order on top of the already extensive vetting process already in play and see this as a slap in the face of refugees isn't something being pulled from thin air. People are only assuming he is trying to do what he said he would.

I'd rather be quick to defend the refugee over the most powerful man in the free world, or his ego, or my own

We can sugar coat as much as we want, but there will come judgement one day. I sure hope I am not found as reasoning away the greatest commandment to love God through loving the other. If this makes me foolish and places my family and me in harms way, I will leave our life and fate to God, our Father.

Thoughts On Possible Refugee Ban

Today, Trump is set to visit The Department of Homeland Security. At the moment, most people are focused on what it is he was so adamant about during his campaign, the building of the wall. However, this will not be his only agenda, as he signs several more executive orders during his visit today. One additional promise from his campaign may come to be today: the complete shut down of accepting Muslim refugees into the United States.

If it is happening today, there is not much we can do to either promote or hinder this agenda. So, we might as well spend some time in reflection. What might it mean to follow through with this ban? What follows now is a series of considerations. I will not be solving the issue, nor do I claim to be doing so. In this regard, may this be a meditation, not an argument.

First, let’s consider the major factor that causes most advocates to support this agenda. We may call it xenophobia, Islamiphobia, racism, or the like, but the truth is that, while these might be, for some, the means to fear, it is not simple bigotry that motivates people. Indeed, it is fear, and we cannot pretend that there are not some legitimate reasons for fearing the presence of more Islamic peoples in our nation. Terrorism is a real threat, as we well know from our own recent history and from current European events, but is it such a threat that we are warranted in our shutting out countless innocents, because of the threat that some individuals with ill intent might sneak in with these innocents.

This might seem to move off point a bit, but, since it is inevitably where the discussion leads, we must face how radical Islam came to be, because some will say, “Well, it is not our fault radicals exist, and while I feel sorry for the people in areas they already infect, we cannot allow them to infect the U.S. This has nothing to do with the U.S., we are a Christian nation, and, since these people are Muslims, they are part of the problem, since it is Islam that creates radical Islam.”

Is this a fair and accurate consideration?

It is true: We make a mistake when we assume radical Islam is not related to religion, as if it is only a political movement using Islam as an excuse to commit its atrocities. Islam’s eschatology is intrinsically tied to political power. There is no doubt that many of Islam believe that the Islamic world must take over the entire globe, politically, for their desired end to take place. Whether this should happen through terrorism, war, or diplomacy is up for debate within the Islamic world:

The reality is that the Islamic State is Islamic. Very Islamic. Yes, it has attracted psychopaths and adventure seekers, drawn largely from the disaffected populations of the Middle East and Europe. But the religion preached by its most ardent followers derives from coherent and even learned interpretations of Islam.

Virtually every major decision and law promulgated by the Islamic State adheres to what it calls, in its press and pronouncements, and on its billboards, license plates, stationery, and coins, “the Prophetic methodology,” which means following the prophecy and example of Muhammad, in punctilious detail. Muslims can reject the Islamic State; nearly all do. But pretending that it isn’t actually a religious, millenarian group, with theology that must be understood to be combatted, has already led the United States to underestimate it and back foolish schemes to counter it.[1]

Likewise, we make a mistake when we assume radical Islam is not related to political unrest, much caused by the United States (as well as other Western powers) imperial presence in the Middle East. Our interventions have caused upheaval in the region over and again, one example being our covert actions in Iran, which eventually helped spark the rise of the Shia Islamic Republic and thorn in our side Iran has recently come to be:

The U.S. Central Intelligence Agency coined a term for it: Blowback. The explosive boomerang that governments throw when, either by propaganda or through covert military operations, they deliberately stoke the flames of ethnic, religious or nationalist rivalries for political gain. Faustian monsters are created who then threaten to overwhelm the very governments that gave them birth. Blowback was first used by the CIA to describe unintended consequences of their covert activities in Iran in 1954. The agency warned of the possible repercussions of the coup d’état it had engineered to overthrow the elected government of Mohammed Mossadeq.[2]

Moreover, when we began to support unrest in Afghanistan to frustrate the Russians, we caused much fear in the region, and refugees began to flee the region. Just like today, they were gathered in large camps away from their homeland, where they were left to their own devices. Just like the current situation in Greece, the refugees grew increasingly disgruntled, as no one came to their rescue. It was this unrest that radicals used to recruit once normal Muslims to their cause. At the same time, the U.S. was funding and arming these radicals, creating movements that still exist today.

Yes, radical Islam is an Islamic problem, created, in part, by Islamic people, but it is also a U.S. problem. If we are really worried about the rise of radical Islam, perhaps we should consider how not accepting refugees create hotbeds, like the ones in Greece at the moment. These hotbeds of unrest and desperation are perfect harvesting fields for the radical movements like Isis. By bringing in the innocent, we protect them from desperation, which leads to radicalization, and, in turn, protect the global community, as well as the U.S., from avoidable, rapid growth of radicalization.

Now that we get the practical out of the way (practical from human, political perspective), let’s talk about the sacred, sanctified approach (what is practical from a divine perspective). Without considering the overwhelming biblical data, which calls us to care for the refugee, consider this:

As Christians, we must think very carefully about how we treat the refugees for the sake of our witness and mission. Yes, we must be prudent, but we cannot let fear control our treatment of those in need. A lesson from Christianity’s past here in the U.S. might help us to think more clearly about our situation today. It is not a perfect analogy, since our approaches are different in each case (the first case being direct contact, the second being complete avoidance), but they come together in their motivation and (possible) consequence:

For many years now, I have been traveling to and from the Navajo Nation to share the love of Jesus Christ, and, to be quite honest, there is a part of me that feels like a fool every time I go, because I know the sad history of the tradition I carry on of "sharing the Gospel" with the Native Americans. Our nation, wanting to control the situation with the Native peoples we feared, justified its actions by proclaiming the Native as "dangerous." So, the white man slaughtered thousands. Who were the dangerous ones again? After we had broken the backs of these tribes, we placed them on reservations and Christian boarding schools were then established.

"In the name of Jesus", it was these schools' job to kill the culture of the people. The tribal children would be punished if they did not comply. They were not allowed to speak their language. They were not allowed to see their parents for many months at a time. If they tried to escape they would be hobbled. And all of this was done by Christians "sharing the Gospel."

Generations later, I have been called in the name of Jesus to share His love with the Navajo, and each time I am out there I have to face the consequences of what my brothers and sisters in Christ did many years ago in the name of fear. I have to see the hurt still in many of these precious peoples' eyes. I have to remind myself each time that what sets me apart is that I'm not out there to take anything but to give my all. I am out there simply to love.

The Christian community was too willing to be motivated by fear of “the other” to treat them like human beings. We cannot do the same today to the innocent among the Islamic nations fleeing danger. Christians cannot allow fear to motivate how we treat “the other” now, lest we damage our relationship with these peoples for generations to come. If we refuse them rescue in their time of need now, (what else are Christians here in times such as these than offering such hope) how will we ever hope they will trust us in the future, when we finally realize they deserve love and the good news of the Kingdom as well? What if, wanting to share the good news with Muslims, today and in the future, our missionaries find that it is they who are really feared, because the Muslim knows we have considered them as we do wild animals, less than human? What we are willing to do to humans we devalue is clear, and, knowing this, those we mistreat may now and forever refuse us access to their hearts.

I hope I never do anything in this life to make the work of the church harder for the generations to come. We cannot allow history to repeat itself over and over again. We must lay down our lives as Christ. This is the ultimate principle as we see in Acts 5:17-42. When there is a choice between proclaiming the love of Christ with great danger of losing our lives or avoiding the situation altogether, we must proclaim the good news. Allowing fear to motivate us has no place. National protection is an added layer to the issue for sure, but supporting the total ban of Muslims, which inevitably leads to the ignoring of the innocent refugee God cares so much about, is, in my mind, equally dangerous.

Again, we have to be smart about this, but we cannot simply use our fear to dismiss the oppressed for whom we are called to care.

We must love, because he first loved us.

"But the lawyer wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?" Luke 10:29

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[1] Wood, Graeme, March 2015: http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2015/03/what-isis-really-wants/384980/

[2] Ramachandra, Vinoth. (2008). Subverting Global Myths: Theology and the Public Issues Shaping Our World. Downers Grove: IVP Academic. pp. 17

Jesus, Race, and Culture:

Should The Church Confront Racial Issues?

There is a lot of pressure on the church today (especially upon pastors) to speak to the cultural issues with which we are currently struggling. Part of the issue for pastors is that there exists a multitude of opinion in the church upon these issues and how they should be resolved, if in fact they can be. Most of these differences have not arisen out of theological considerations, but out of political concern. Speaking about politically charged issues is a precarious situation for pastors to say the least, but is it an excuse to avoid the conversations?

Another pressure on pastors is that major sects of the church have historically avoided concrete, political rhetoric altogether, and some, both within and without, believe this is the way it should be. Does the church have a voice in the realm of politics, or does our separation of church and state preclude us from any influence?

Do we have biblical warrant to speak to the area of culture that includes politics?

On a broader cultural scale, recent arguments have arisen in which people are debating whether or not people of various groups have the capacity to understand the feeling, concerns, and overall experiences of another group. Can the church be truly multicultural? Does our message truly create transcultural conversation and healing, or are we doomed to continue to talk past each other, at least on this topic?

Is there any biblical precedence for speaking to each other about our own cultural (specifically ethnic) understandings, and will people be able to hear?

My Alma Mater, Asbury Theological Seminary rereleased a video in which Pastor Lisa Yebuah argues from Paul’s statement to the Church at Galatia (in which he states that in Christ Jesus there is no longer “Jew nor Greek,” v 3:28) that since barriers have been broken by the cross we can begin to hear across old walls. I love this thought. We must encourage the church to have real, authentic conversations so that we all can repent from our old ways and live in newness together. Faithfulness to the gospel recognizes our ability to hear and understand our brothers and sisters, no matter their particular affiliations in other communities.

In my recent book, The Other Side, I speak about learned behaviors and the possibility to overcome prejudice:

For the child, noticing someone else is different is first a matter of curiosity. Negative bias is introduced when this child perceives a negative attitude in those he or she most often imitates. The child does not become malicious at this point. He or she is simply following a basic rule of survival: If others in my community recoil from this type of person, thing, or situation, I should too.

           

If prejudice can be ingrained at such an early age, we might fear that there is little hope of overcoming our prejudices unless we begin by admitting that none of us are immune to receiving or perpetuating, consciously or subconsciously, negative stereotypes. We do, however, have another mechanism in learning about others that may move us beyond learned biases: an uncanny ability to empathize through the vicarious experience of placing ourselves in another’s shoes. When we have the opportunity to learn of others through hearing their stories and placing ourselves in their shoes, learned biases are diminished if not destroyed, and we learn, instead, to care.

Arguments or mere dialogue concerning the views of others will not get us to where we need to be if they are divorced from the prompting to step outside of one’s own preconceived ideas and into what it might be like to walk in the other’s shoes. Having the gift of “the mind of Christ,” it is possible to consider others before ever considering the needs and concerns of self (see Philippians 2:1-5).

Yet, is there any concrete biblical example of using empathy to promote understanding of the other? Can we use racial differences as a learning tool?

Jesus seemed to think so. In fact, in a very subversive manner, Jesus forces some of the religious elite in the Jewish community to do just that as he taught the parable of “The Good Samaritan,” found in Luke 10:25-37:

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

In this text, some of the religious elite of the Jewish community, a community who highly valued their own ethnicity and import of their specific knowledge, confronts Jesus. Specifically, a lawyer, an expert in Torah, challenged this Rabbi, another expert of Torah from another angel, to ask the key to right living.

Jesus expertly draws out of the lawyer the key to right living and challenges him upon it: “Do this (what you just claimed to be right) and you will live.” However, as soon as Jesus challenges him to do only that which the lawyer had already admitted was the ethical way of life, the lawyer begins to make up excuses and counter argues his own point, by asking, “When is enough, enough?”

Jesus then launches into his subversive illustration. He first has the community see themselves in those who encounter a terrible situation. First, a gang on a very well known and dangerous road robs and beats an unnamed traveler. Even though the man is unnamed, it seems Jesus is most likely referring to a Jewish person. Everyone listening would be able to empathize with the beaten man. As the man is lying in road left for dead, two persons of the Jewish religious community pass him by. Again, everyone would have recognized the two well respected people types here. They are feeling the finger of blame being pointed at them.

Then Jesus talks about an “other,” a Samaritan. It is no secret that in this day, there existed a lot of racial tension between the Jewish people and the Samaritans. Why this tension existed is a lesson for another time. From an early age, Jewish people were conditioned to dislike the Samaritans. So, Jesus makes this member of the “out group” the hero. He is challenging racial norms in the day. Here is what they would assume to be a religious mutt acting in accordance with ethical living.

His final question is one that forces the audience to consider empathy, not just of the beaten man, whom everyone feels sorry for, of course. Instead, his question has them consider the three passers by, including this “unworthy” Samaritan. Who among these men did the right thing? In other words, how do you understand their actions? If in their place, what would you do?

The lawyer is forced to answer, and his reply is telling, “The one who showed him mercy.” The lawyer cannot even bring himself to say, “The Samaritan was right.” Instead, he simple refers to him as “one.”

Jesus was intentionally being political, showing the hypocrisy of the elites in society. (Remember that for the Jewish people specifically; there was no difference between religious leaders and political figures, at least for their own local context, which Jesus uses here.) Jesus confronts their racism and forces them to see the humanity in the other.

No servant is greater than his master, and if Jesus shows us an example of leading through hard conversations concerning race relations and doing right to others, we too must speak of these things. No matter what others in our church say about our right to speak on these issues, no matter what the world believes is possible or impossible for racial healing, we must trust our leader, our King, and the King and head of the church was one willing to break down barriers through hard discussions upon race.

I, for one, choose to follow Jesus. I will listen to my brothers and sisters who happen to come from other backgrounds. I will validate their concerns. I will try and help them see my concerns as well, and together we will serve those beaten up by a world that wants to rob them of their dignity.

Thoughts Upon The Deaths of Sterling, Castile, and Others

This article was originally published in July 2016, almost four years ago. All portions now in bold font are added to update this article for current events. I mention the original post date, because of current reactions in our community to a new video that has emerged of what appears to be Ahmaud Arbery walking around a construction site allegedly moments before he was killed. Some are suggesting that those who have cried out for justice for Ahmaud will have to scramble to "justify" this new evidence. I will not have to make such an adjustment, and I think many who have been asking for justice have felt the same as I have felt for some time concerning the death of men of color under circumstances that do not warrant killing. I present to you now my thoughts from 2016 to demonstrate how I have felt for some time and will add my thoughts to current events at the conclusion of this post.

From July 2016:

43 year old Eric Garner is killed by law enforcement when he is placed in an illegal chokehold on July 17, 2014. His infraction, selling cigarettes illegally. 

What I repeatedly saw over the following days:

The bottom line: If this man were not breaking the law in the first place, this would never have happened. 

This is a bad bottom line. I personally have broken the law on several occasions, many times while having a gun in my possession, and I have never once felt like my life was in danger, even in the presence of law enforcement. 

Let me be clear. I do not under any circumstance condone my past behaviors. Having said this, I have never deserved death for any earthly law I have broken.

For example, (in times past) I have broken the law several times while hunting, either by hunting without a proper license or by hunting over the limit (I no longer participate in such actions, by the way). There have even been times while hunting illegally that I have been stopped by law enforcement, gun in clear view. 

As I saw law enforcement approach, I hid the evidence of my criminal activity, not because I was afraid of the officers, but because I didn't want to pay a fine. I got away with it too. Many times, it even felt like a game, and I have heard many other hunters brag about their run-ins too. Even if I had been caught, my worst fear was the chance of a huge fine, never death. 

Hunting a federally protected bird without proper documentation is every bit as illegal as selling cigarettes without a license. Yet, I was never approached in a hostile manner. The officer did his job, and did not find my infraction. If I had for some reason been killed in this altercation, my fault would have been found, and I am willing to bet not many people would have said, "Oh, well...He shouldn't have broken the law." 

Certainly, no one should ever feel above the law, and we should all expect repercussions if we fail to obey, despite any sense of injustice for being detained, but in many situations, death is unwarranted, despite laws being broken. Bottom line. 

Why is it that I have never been afraid, I wonder. Am I too naive. Or was my assumption that I would only be fined at very worst correct? What makes me different from Garner. I think it's obvious. 

July 5, 2016, Alton Sterling is shot several times at point blank range while being pinned down by two male police officers. While his gun was in his pocket, he was killed for allegedly posing a threat to police. During the video, it is clear that Sterling did not have his weapon in his hand. His only visible infraction was resisting police. 

What I have repeatedly seen over the past few days:

The bottom line: Be respectful. Do not resist any of law enforcement's commands. 

This is a decent bottom line, but again, it is not a line that justifies death. Just like my willingness to break laws, I have felt justified in being obstinate before a police officer. 

In college, I was pulled over for illegally passing in a turning lane. It was late. I was heading home after hanging out with some of my friends and was pulled out in front of by a driver who was either drunk or just a jerk. The driver was weaving and braking in front of me erratically. I decided I should go around and got in the turning lane several hundred feet before I should have. 

The police officer (a black officer) pulled me over. I did not even give him time to speak before I was out of my car yelling about how he let the other driver get away. I never once showed an ounce of respect for him, and remained belligerent until he left. I could have easily been said to have been acting threatening. 

He just rolled his eyes at me and gave me my ticket. If he had cuffed me, I would have deserved it. Not once did I ever consider my life in danger. Not once. I felt free to be a colossal jackass.  

Certainly we should all give the police force the high respect they deserve for doing a job that benefits us all, even while putting their lives on the line, but being a jerk does not justify being killed by another. 

Why did I feel free to behave in such a way without any since of threat? I felt I had the privilege to do so. And I got away with only a ticket that I latter was able to have dismissed. Why am I any different from Sterling? I think it's obvious.

On the following day, July 6, 2016, Philando Castile is shot several times and dies during a routine traffic stop. According to his girlfriend, who was also in the car, Castile informed officers that he was a licensed carrier and had a gun in his possession. As he reached for his wallet the officer panicked and shot Castile several times. 

What I have seen today:

Bottom line: Anyone with a gun should expect an altercation with the police. It makes them uncomfortable. 

This of course applies as well with the Sterling case. Perhaps gun possession does have such ramifications, but this is a debate to be had in the realm of gun control, not justified police shootings. If we as a nation are willing to say it is a RIGHT to possess a firearm, then the presence of such an arm is lawful and should have no bearing in any case, unless the gun is clearly being used in a threatening manner. 

Again, I am a gun owner. I have never felt like this has put me in any danger with the law, because I have a right to my weapon. It has no bearing on my activity, lawful or otherwise, unless I am using it in an unlawful manner.

I have been pulled over and stopped with a weapon in my possession, but I never felt afraid. Why am I any different from Castile? I think it's obvious.

Final thoughts:

In so many cases, not even these arguments can apply. But, many are so willing to try to assign guilt  to the victims, because we can't understand why it should be any other way. It is hard to think things like this can happen, but they do. We cannot ignore this any longer

Over my lifetime, I have considered myself a conservative. Today, however, it is the conservative voices that are stinging the most. I am not betraying the conservative community by looking clearly at these situations and calling them, at least in light of the given arguments, unjust. There are justifiable reasons for law enforcement to use deadly force at times, but these arguments are not those reasons. Don't blindly fight against something that could be used against your worldview, just because it is used as such. Be willing to be thoughtful and nuanced. Decide conservatively, because you believe it is right. Don't decide what is right because it is labeled the conservative view. 

Also, I highly respect our officers. We can call individuals and systemic issues out without betraying our well deserved respect for police.

Having said all of this, I still feel relatively safe today, not despite our police. I still don't feel threatened as many in the black community do. I am privileged in this way. I honestly can't imagine what it must feel like not to have this security, and I do regret this.

On February 23, 20202, Ahmaud Arbery walks into a construction zone and looks around. All news reports say that he did not steal anything at the time. Guess what? Yep, you guessed it. I have done this exact same thing. It is sort of an unwritten rule that no one is going to freak out if a person wants to see a home under construction. I have done it, and have not never felt as if I had done anything wrong. I have even been looking about when a member of the construction crew has showed back up. He did not even bat an eye. I was not chased down by citizens who felt that they were the judge, jury, and executioner. Why am I any different from Arbery? I think it is obvious.

If you think this was a crime...

Let me say this to the Christian community in particular and to Americans in general. It is from the Judeo-Christian foundation of thought upon justice that we have established the ideals of allowing punishment to fit the crime, that no cruel and unusual punishment shall be permitted for any crime. The Scripture applies the code: "An eye for an eye" in the OT. This is because, in this time, ancients often thought crime should be met with a more severe punishment to teach a lesson. Steal from me, and I not only come after you, but I cut your child's hands off. The Bible's law code of an eye for an eye softened the measure of the time by saying the punishment should fit the crime. For a nation, that is still a fairly good rule. Yet, for Christians, Jesus says that while we have heard the Scripture say "an eye for an eye," He commands of His people even more mercy. "When struck on the cheek, turn the other." 

Do not be one of these people who say, "Well, you play with fire, you get burned." That is not who we are. Have the mind of Christ. He was not just being idealistic. He was telling us what God's heart asks of us. 

I am still not convinced Arbery did anything wrong, but, even if he had, the punishment by vigilantes was extreme, cruel, and unjustifiable. I did not have to "come up" with this as a justification. I have felt this way for some time, and many who have been calling out for justice have likewise been of this mind for some time. 

Charity Starts (And Often Ends) At Home

I have not been reading Galatians in my current studies, and to be quite honest I have not read Galatians in some time. But, I have had one particular verse in Galatians ringing in my mind lately. I thought at first that my involuntary mental recitation of this verse was something akin to not being able to shake a catchy tune that repeats over and over in the halls of the mind like a broken record, nothing more than a mental glitch.

Yet, it persisted beyond the normal mere annoyance should:

“So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith” (Galatians 6:10).

It was really the last bit that was the loudest: “especially those of the family of faith.”

After about three days of waking up with this verse on my mind, I finally asked God if He was trying to teach me something. Yes, I am stubborn that way. It took me three days. As soon as I asked that question, I was struck with another question: “What do you think about this verse?”

I paused, what do I think?

To be honest, once I thought about it, I realized the verse did not sit well for me. I was a little perplexed. Perhaps this is why I could not let it go.

According to Jesus, His gospel is “good news to the poor.” His gospel is “release to the captives.” His gospel is “sight to the blind.” His gospel is “freedom to the oppressed.” Full stop (see Luke 4:18-19).

If Christ’s target audience is the poor, the captive, the spiritually blind, and the oppressed, and it is His injunctive to us to spread His good news, it seems to me that the ripest harvest would not be in the church were everyone is already, as we in the church would put it, saved.  Sure, we should, when we have time, check in on each other, but shouldn’t we especially, to use Paul’s word, focus on the lost, the needy, and the dying. The saints already have eternal life don’t they?

Paul has it all backwards. He says help all, but especially those “in the household of faith.” I fretted over the question for a few more days, and prayed about for even more, and I finally began to feel a sense of clarity. I thought about my hypothesis a bit more, and grew more and more encouraged by what I found to be a prayerful, biblically consistent conclusion.

As my thoughts were beginning to set in my mind, I wanted to make sure I was not chasing a white rabbit; so, I ran to five of my favorite commentaries to see if those theologians I so admire had come to the same conclusion I had. If so, I would know I was in good company.

To my frustration, it seems that there has been some small debate upon what Paul means by “the family of faith.” Some notable Christians, namely a few of the Magisterial Reformers like Luther and Calvin, claim that Paul is referring back to an earlier comment he made about support for the ministers of the church (see 6:6). Others suggest that this phrase might have been an early church expression for one particular church, the church in Jerusalem. So, Paul is somehow talking about smaller churches paying apportionments to their leaders or their home base in Jerusalem.

Both of these arguments are unsatisfying. It is much more plausible to think that “the family of faith” means the whole family, all the believers, the universal church. While there are some theologians who think otherwise, it seems that the majority of theologians lean in on this more universal interpretation. So, the straightforward interpretation I have been working with seems to also be, according to majority consensus, the right interpretation. But, this direct interpretation does not answer the deeper question, “Why?”

If Paul had, in fact, a more particular group in mind, we could more easily extrapolate the why. For example, if he was speaking of ministers, we might say, he says take care of all, but especially your minister, because Paul believes the minister’s job is of utmost importance to the mission of God. Paul could be making a subtle argument here, one that a lot of ministers might like if it were true, that ministers are the linchpins for success in a church’s mission.

Likewise, if Paul would have been speaking of the Jerusalem church, we could have assumed that Paul had a more centralized and institutionalized view of the church than we might have assumed, and he would be explicitly arguing their import. While we might have a satisfactory answer to the why, if Paul were here being more specific, it seems he was not.

However, if he were being universal, as I am presently arguing he was, why would he tell us to care for all people, but especially the already saved? Again, shouldn’t our largest efforts go to “saving souls”? That seems to be the suggestion of the evangelical church today, but my question here exposes my prejudiced notions that I am importing into the text, prejudices I have developed as a product of the evangelical movement (a movement, mind you, of which I am proud to be a part, and that is why I offer critique).

I had been assuming a dichotomy between the primacy of taking care of the family of faith and evangelism to the lost. But, is that a necessary assumption? Are they really two separate things, having little to do with one another? Paul does not say, “When God gives you the opportunity to help whoever needs help, do so, but before all else, help those who are saved.” Instead, he says, “Help all, and especially tend to the needs within your own community. The conjunction shows that Paul does not see these two in conflict, but in direct relation.

What might that relation be? Let’s explore:

In my last blog, I went into detail about the cultural nature of the church; so, I won’t go into as great a detail here. Suffice it to say that I find in Christ’s vision for the church a culture making community. According to Jesus vision in Matthew 5: 14-16 and elsewhere, Jesus sees the church as a community who lives together in such a way that people leave the culture of the world for the culture of the Kingdom (see this practically expressed by the early church in Acts 2:42-47). Blessing comes to the many who are lost when they see a new alternative embodied by the church and they repent from their worldly ways in order to become a part of the family of faith, an alternative community.

Although this is Christ’s model for effective evangelism, I grew up learning and witnessing a somewhat different paradigm, one that made a clear distinction between the gathering together of the saints (going to church) and the proclaiming of the good news to the lost, (evangelism), perhaps, for example, telling a coworker about God. Our mission to save souls was something we were merely preparing for and learning about in church. Real change happened when individuals found themselves applying what they learned out in the “real” world.

The modern church that I grew up in had, at least to a large degree, lost it cultural calling, and moved to a new model of church, one in which congregants attended programs to learn how to evangelize. However, for Jesus, it is precisely by being the church that people come to know the Father. In the modern model, the church’s job is merely to critique the world, to tell them where they are going wrong, but in Jesus model, not only is the world challenged to face their own sin by the church, they are then provided a cultural alternative to leave the world and join a new movement, the church.

(I must brag that my home church, where I first saw this as a real issue, is now becoming the church Christ envisioned. They have a robust understanding of outreach, which invites people to the community to hear the good news, while taking care of their physical needs, which is not in addition to, but is the physical manifestation of the good news.)

As it stands now, the churches in America are often not a culture themselves, an opportunity for others to leave the world for a completely new way of living. Instead, the church is just one cultural product of many within the larger American culture. We do not see ourselves as set apart. If we only tell people where they are going wrong, but leave them to figure out how to change in their current context, never giving them a chance to join a whole new community that is going in the right direction together, we leave them in their guilt with little knowledge of where they might find hope. The world sure won’t help them out. They will try to live holy all on their own if church is nothing more than a set of programs. So, what is the church supposed to look like? I think it is to look something like China Town.

The Bible tells us that Christians are to be a community in, but not of, the world. We are told that we are citizens of a Kingdom in which we are not yet fully living as we find ourselves in this present world. In the meantime, we are to represent our Kingdom to the nations we find ourselves in. Like China Town, the church cannot but help finding herself in a larger context, a larger community, that in some ways, she must live and cooperate with. China Town is physically a part of New York City, but it is very much not culturally synonymous with the American town.

The residents of China town have a deep sense of belonging to a place that they no longer find themselves in, a homeland. They have a deep longing to provide for themselves and represent for any visitors the culture of home. The “city upon the hill,” the “holy nation,” known as the church likewise finds itself longing, driven even, to provide a sense of home, a sense of the place of our citizenry, the Kingdom of God.

Through providing our unique culture, we challenge the ways of the culture around us, the ways of the world, and our critique is not in what we say, but simply in how we live our lives. We are a people called to provide new hope, Kingdom hope, to the most marginalized of the world. If this is so, we must embody such a reality within our boarders, so to speak, as to provide real tangible hope.

James asks what good is it if we tell people that they can have peace, but we do not then provide that peace. How many times have people been promised a better life if they would simply accept the invitation to come to church. They walk in the door and are greeted with countless smiles, handshakes, and hugs, but no real practical day-to-day help. Sure, people ask about their eternal security, and when the person says they are willing to follow Jesus, we make sure they receive baptism, and we pat ourselves on the back with a job well done. Mission complete.  They go home to face the same miseries they had before coming to church. The promise of hope largely echoes empty in their mind.

This should not be so. If we are going to call people out of the world and promise them a better life, a life where your neighbor will look out for you, we must be in line with James. We cannot say, “Now have it.” We have to provide it.

Could this be why Paul implores us to take care of everyone as the opportunity arises, but especially those within our own community? Could it, instead of preferential treatment, which is what was disturbing me when I first explored this verse, be about practicing what we preach? If we were demonstrating that within our own culture, those in need find true, practical help, both physically and spiritually, could it be that more of the poor, the captive, the blind, and the oppressed would believe us when we say we care, that God cares, and come running to the body of Christ to find themselves wrapped in the arms of Christ?

(Note: I do not want to prolong this blog any more than I already have, but I do anticipate a complaint I want to address. If you are thinking, “Your model of the church seems to deny the need to “go and tell” the good news, I want to speak to this, if not, skip this parenthetical. When I analogize the church to China Town, I might mislead one to think I see the church as stationary, a place people pass through or by to see the truth embodied. The analogy does fail me there. When I say the church is itself the central testimony of Christ, what betrays us here is the modern model of the “come and see” church, instead of the “go and tell” church. As it stands, for people to see the church as a cultural community, they often have to walk into a building. But, the directive from Christ is “go and tell.” This is not for individuals alone, as if they are to receive training in the walls of “church” to evangelize, and then they are to leave the “church” in order to do so. This was a directive to the group of disciples. The church is not stationary. It is the community itself, wherever the community finds itself. We have a means to collect together in very public ways, and we are not confined always to our building. If we switch from a “come and see” model to a “go and tell” model, living as a community very much in the public sphere, this rebuttal becomes irrelevant.)

The charity we express at home often gives people on the outside a reason to finally come home too. We are to help all we can. Inviting them to taste and see the Lord is good, inviting them to be a part of our family, but we must be sure we are actually practicing being a family so that they can see value in accepting our invitation.

Hope is a wonderfully amazing thing, and it can change lives.