On the Death of our Enemy

The blogs and social networks are all abuzz as every Tom, Dick, and Harry scrambles to voice their opinion about the famous death of Osama bin Laden last night.  I am no different.  I admit that what I first felt when hearing the news was relief.  I thought perhaps this might bring a bit of closure to the wounds felt by the families of those lost on 9/11 as well as precipitate a quicker end to our war in Afghanistan.  For nearly a decade now, the death of this one man has driven American foreign policy and so, if you're a fan of American foreign policy, then I suppose yesterday was a tremendous victory to be celebrated.

My next reaction came when seeing gritty images of bin Laden's face on the TV screen, for the first time realizing that he was now no longer able to do any harm.  Amazingly, I noticed that, sure enough, he had two eyes, a nose, and a mouth just like mine.  Heck... we even both have beards.  I'd half expected his teeth to be pointy and horns to be coming out of his head, but it was not the case.  I was reminded again that he, too, is human.  And as such he bears the image of God.  And instead of thinking about our vast differences, I began to contemplate our similarities.  I have no doubt that Osama and I might find dinner conversation difficult.  Aside from the language barrier, I'm guessing he might not be too interested in disc golf or the St. Louis Cardinals or great fiction.  But he eats food.  And so do I.  And we could have done that together.

Is it good that Osama is now dead?  I don't know.  I don't think it really matters what my opinion is.  Millions rejoice.  I'm not quite confident enough to join in their gatherings.  Instead, I see one more dead man, one more condemned sinner like myself.  I really don't want to enter the grand debates over foreign policy.  I just want to lament the death of one human being who was made in the image of God like myself -- even if this death was for the greater good (to use popular American utilitarian language).

Of all the words being spread across the internet this morning, the most radical that I've come across and the ones that have given me the most pause are from a document many thousands of years old.  "Say to them, 'As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn! Turn from your evil ways! Why will you die, O house of Israel?' (Ezekiel 33:11).  Do we delight in the death of the wicked?  Many are doing so today and maybe I'd be one of them if my own parent or spouse had been killed on 9/11.  Nevertheless, I can't help but think that Jesus would even today instruct me to forgive, to let go of my hate, and to allow vengeance to rest in the hands of Almighty God rather than the hands of men in uniform.  For God's justice is always perfect.

And so I sit at my computer with a mixture of feelings.  Relief.  Hope that we're entering a new and less militant chapter of human history.  And also earnest prayer for the soul of one who is now at the bottom of the sea.

The Day In Between

What am I supposed to do now?  I was sure he was the One.  My life is ruined.  I had invested everything in Jesus -- I left my family, my job, by community, EVERYTHING in order to follow him.  And for three years I was certain as I saw him perform miracles and heard his amazing, authoritative teaching that this was finally the one to bring us liberation from our oppressors.  I admit I didn't understand everything he said.  When he talked about suffering and dying, I dismissed it.  It just didn't make any sense to me.  I thought maybe he was speaking another one of his really confusing parables or metaphors.  I was still sure that he'd lead the crowds in an uprising and overthrow Herod and Pilate and even Rome itself.  But now they've all killed him.  And now I'm all alone.  I don't even know where the other followers are.  That night we all just kind of scattered.  It happened so fast.  I couldn't even think.  My deep-down instincts for self-preservation led me to get out of there as fast as I could.  I've got to admit I admire Peter for trying to defend Jesus despite the odds.  That at least showed more courage than I had.  But then Jesus scolded Peter and told him something about putting away the sword.  I just seriously don't get it.  How are we supposed to overthrow our oppressors without the sword?  Frankly (and I hate to admit this)... sometimes I think Jesus was just too idealistic and not practical enough.  He always had his head in the clouds.  He wasn't willing to recognize the dirtiness and seriousness of our enemies.  Instead, he just kept telling us to pray for them and love them.  That's all real nice, but how does that overthrow Caesar?  You're not going to liberate Israel with a bunch of love and prayers.  But what do I know?  I guess it all boils down to nothing now.  He's dead.  There's no changing that.  Maybe I made a huge mistake in believing things could actually change.  As I woke up this morning, my first thought was that maybe yesterday was all a bad dream.  But it wasn't.  It was real.  And now all is darkness.  No hope.  I guess I should just go back to fishing and try to move on...


There is great wisdom in the ancient Christian tradition that reminds us to live through Saturday before getting to Sunday.  Today is "the day in between."  It is often overlooked.  We fail to pause and soak up the total despair of this moment -- our hero has been defeated, the enemy has won.  We cry out with Job on this day, "As waters fail from a lake, and a river wastes away and dries up, so mortals lie down and do not rise again." Death seems the victor.  And although today we know the Story, we know what's coming tomorrow morning, we know that soon we will be dressed in white surrounded by springtime and Easter lilies and shouts of praise, nevertheless today we wear black.  We veil our faces with Mary and Thomas and John and the rest.  Today we stare into the face of Sheol and ponder the words of Ecclesiates, "Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless."  The dark existentialist takes a strange comfort in this black Saturday because this, too, is part of the Christian year, part of our Scriptures, and part of life.  Without experiencing the pain and shock of Friday followed by the emptiness and despair of Saturday, we'll never fully appreciate Sunday.  So let's not rush there... although we might want to.  Instead, let's live out this black Saturday as the first disciples did.  Maybe then we will appreciate what happens very early in the morning tomorrow...

Book Review: Chuck Gutenson's "Christians and the Common Good"

How ought the Christian faith to inform political dialog and interaction?  Dr. Chuck Gutenson refuses to bow to the popular view that the gospel of Jesus Christ and modern political discussions have little or nothing to do with one another.  The gospel is inherently political in that a proper understanding of salvation will include more than a personal pass out of hell and instead embrace the redemption of all of human society.  Gutenson's method is rooted first and foremost in the Bible:  What values emerge from the biblical narrative which ought to drive our own priorities in engaging the political realities of 21st century America?  By helpfully deconstructing some of the most commonly proof-texted passages of the Bible, Gutenson frees us to engage the whole of Scripture instead of participating in the all-too-familiar games of "Bible verse ping-pong."  Fans of Walter Brueggemann, Brian McLaren, Walter Wink, Jim Wallis, Tony Campolo, and Ron Sider will be pleased with this concise, accessible introduction to God's heart for matters of social justice as revealed in Scripture.  Hopefully, Christians from both sides of the political spectrum will find in Gutenson's commitment to solid exegesis and application of Scripture a call for civil dialog and repentance from our tendency to too narrowly define God's purposes according to our own biases.  All thoughtful Christians who want to reflect biblically on a justly ordered society will do well to read this book carefully.

Bishops Forum

Recently First Church was honored to host the first ever Bishop's Townhall Meeting in preparation for General Conference this summer.  I was very excited about the message that the leadership of our church communicated.  Below are some of the things I appreciated followed by a few of my concerns.

Things to celebrate:

1) A renewed emphasis on being missional.  The church doesn't have a mission; the mission of God has a church.  I think our bishops understand that.  They want us to be increasingly outward-focused rather than maintaining our tradition of being a "holy huddle."

2) A call to embrace ethnic diversity in our ministries.  My favorite moment of the evening was when Lead Bishop David Kendall stated very matter-of-factly, "We are a white church.  We are homogeneous.  And we need to change that."  Such honesty is refreshing from our leadership.

3) An emphasis on networking and reaching today's youth culture.

4) An emphasis on the need for the church to return to its roots:  raising the standard of holiness and preaching the good news to the poor.  I see the divide between social justice and personal piety being bridged and I am thrilled to witness it.

5) A refusal to get in bed with the religious right.  This is really big.  For so long Free Methodism has been part of the Republican Party.  I no longer hear that coming from our leadership (although it remains strong among many laity and clergy).  I truly believe the bishops want to allow for a diversity of opinions on this matter and refuse to play partisan politics any longer.

Concerns:

1)  We still seem to be immersed in the Pastor-as-CEO model (or Bishop).  This didn't come out in the forum, but you can see that more and more decisions in the church are being made by fewer and fewer people.  The fact that the General Conference delegations will only have ONE DAY to discuss business matters reveals the fact that more decisions are being made behind closed doors.

2)  We are still dominated by pragmatism.  Whatever works is seen as best.  I find this contrary to Scripture.

3)  We're not going far enough in embracing God's preferential option for the poor.  We are on our way, but it still remains an "add-on" in our theology rather than central to it.

I would love to hear your feedback.  You can read an article about the event here:  Townhall Meeting or view the actual event here: Video of the event

Taking a break...

For the foreseeable future, I will be taking a break from this blog to devote myself to a new blog with my friend, Oscar Clavel, as we discuss our theological differences and similarities.  Please follow along at <twopastors.blogspot.com>.

Exhausting Goodness

"For most of my adult life, what I have wanted most to win is nearness

to God. This led me to choose a vocation that marked me as God's

person both in my eyes and in the eyes of others. I gave myself to

the work the best way I knew how, which sometimes exhausted my

parishioners as much as it exhausted me. I thought that being

faithful meant always trying harder to live a holier life and calling

them to do the same. I thought that it meant knowing everything I

could about Scripture and theology, showing up every time the church

doors were open, and never saying no to anyone in need. I thought

that it meant ignoring my own needs and those of my family until they

went away altogether, leaving me free to serve God without any selfish

desires to drag me down.

I thought that being faithful was about becoming someone other than

who I was, in other words, and it was not until this project failed

that I began to wonder if my human wholeness might be more useful to

God than my exhausting goodness."

- Barbara Brown Taylor in "Leaving Church"

I'm not to the place where I feel like I can give up on the striving and effort, but I wish I was. I think there is a deep spiritual truth in these words from someone far more experienced and wise than myself.

Thug Musings

A Greg Coates original. Enjoy. Forgive me if this offends you. It's my first foray into the world of animated satire.

Living Under Sharia Law

Below is an exchange I am having with a close friend of mine. I'll be sure to add his responses to this post as they come. I think it may be of interest to many who wrestle with issues of faithfulness to the the way of Christ in our post-9/11 world.

Friend:

Alright... I've been pondering this for some time and can't quite sort it out. I'd lik

e your take on

it so I can gauge if I'm sliding in the wrong direction... :-P (thought I'd start it off with a quick jab). What do you believe a western hemisphere Christian's response should be to Islam's rapidly expanding Jihad (violence and/or politically) that seeks to ultimately establish their Sharia law as universal as Mohamed prophesied and commanded?

My response:

That's a fair question, friend! And it certainly deserves to be taken seriously. I'll give some initial thoughts and then be eager to hear your response. (Let's hope this can be a respectful dialog rather than what some of our former facebook exchanges have been like... and I'm not just blaming you there). First, I need to say that I don't think you'll find my answers very satisfactory because we have some radically different theological assumptions and biblical interpretations, but I'll at least be honest to answer from my own perspective -- which is all I can do.

I would start by questioning how really serious the threat you mentioned actually is. I know that there are some Islamic radicals who hold the views you describe, but I think they are a very small minority. The vast majority of the Muslim world does not read the Qur'an in the way that Osama bin Laden, et al. do. I think there is a lot of fear-mongering out there in the media that points to the most radical opinions on earth and then claims them to be more widespread than they actually are. Look at a nation like Turkey -- an almost completely Islamic nation, but I think you'll find radical attitudes about Sharia law very rare throughout that entire nation. I believe that the vast majority of Muslims are peace-loving people and that violent jihad is only one interpretation that a few radicals cling to. Of course, you could dispute this, but I think the very fact that there are nearly a billion Muslims in our world set next to the relatively few acts of terrorism perpetrated by those billion people indicates that terrorism in the the name of jihad is the position of an extreme minority. Most Muslim scholars insist that Islam is a religion that values peace... and I agree.

But with that aside, I do think we need to be concerned about that small minority that see it as their religious duty to kill the infidels. (You could point to recent Irish history in which Protestants and Catholics had the same views for one another, by the way. So Christians are not immune to this disease of hatred.) In one sense, I think that the nation-state will do what the nation-state will do. It will spend enormous amounts of money in order to protect us, it will fight its preemptive wars, it will do its wire taps... and there isn't a whole lot I can do about all of that as an individual person. So in a sense I think my opinion about how the government should act is something of a moot point.

In my own worldview, however, I believe that at the very center of all of creation is a bleeding, suffering Lamb. The fabric of the universe --real reality -- is disclosed in the cross and the non-violence that the cross reveals about the heart of God. Think about this. The first three hundred years of Christianity were lived under the thumb of an oppressive, pagan empire that demanded worship of false gods. Christians in those centuries saw it as their duty to primarily remain faithful witnesses (the Greek is "martyrios" from which we get "martyr") in the face of empire. They did not see their job to be to seize governmental power, infiltrate the senate, and legislate policies that would direct Rome into a "Christian nation." That would have been unthinkable and, even if it were possible, many would have said that it shouldn't be done in the first place. Instead, they believed their role was to live out the radical, non-violent love of Jesus even at the cost of their very lives. And by doing so they bore witness to the Lamb Who Was Slain. They stood apart from the empire precisely in the fact that they refused to take up the sword even when their lives were threatened. To participate in the violence of the world would be to deny the gospel itself -- or so Christians thought in those days.

Now suppose (worst case scenario and all of the fear-mongers' predictions come true) that radical Muslims conquer America and force us to abide by Sharia Law (although I can't see that happening anytime soon). What would my response be? Of course, I would lament the removal of my political freedoms. But it would not change my faithfulness to the way of Jesus in the least. I would see my life as a recapitulation of those Christians in the first centuries of our faith. I might be persecuted, I might die, but it would be an opportunity to show my oppressors the radical love of Jesus that refuses to return violence with violence. And that, in light of eternity, is completely worth it. And talk about being an evangelical witness! Such a response would certainly strike the hearts of many Muslims!

In other words, the nations will war with one another. Empires will come and go. America may or may not remain the power over me for the remainder of my life... but my responsibility to walk in the pattern of Jesus, to turn the other cheek, to put away my sword, to not take revenge but instead leave room for God's wrath, to suffer alongside the suffering Lamb -- will all remain the same.

I realize this view is a very radical answer and might seem way "out of the box" in light of current political debates and theories. But, in my own interpretation, it is more faithful to Scripture than engaging in the games of the powers and principalities of this dark world. I think when Constantine established the Holy Roman Empire in 313 AD, the purity of the church was deeply wounded. We're still living with his decision to wed worldly military power with the Christian faith. I reject that marriage as an impure version of The Way. And for a far more articulate manifesto on what I've just stated, I would refer you to John Howard Yoder's radical book "The Politics of Jesus" or some secondary sources on his thought.

In short, I'm not going to loose any sleep over those few Islamic fanatics out there. Not because they don't pose a threat, but because the way I will choose to live under the guidance of the gospel will not change even if they DO threaten my way of life.

I hope that makes a little bit of sense to you. I think the fundamental questions that we need to be asking are, "What is the gospel? What implications does it have on my relationship to the political world? Could the current Constantinian wedding of state power and faith be harmful? And do I really believe that perfect love drives out all fear?"

I'll be delighted to hear your response and am certainly open to your disagreements. I promise to consider your opinions seriously if you do the same for me.

Grace and Peace,
Greg

The Activist Mystic

I'm hoping to get back to blogging more frequently now that I'm finished with the first draft of my project for Wesleyan Publishing House. Also, I made a conscious decision to stop blogging when I feel really depressed. I don't want my blog to be a downer for everyone who reads and so part of the reason for the infrequency of my entries is because I have been wrestling with depression quite a bit lately.

I write a lot about ministry in the inner city. I don't do it to impress anyone. I just do it because it's my life right now and because I hope I will offer something that might cause someone else to pause and reflect for a moment about the mission of God in the world, about the Christ among the least of these, and about the kingdom coming down. If nothing else, perhaps I provide a voice that someone else in similar circumstances can relate to.

Last night I read a wonderful chapter from Henri Nouwen's book Here and Now: Living in the Spirit. Here is a short excerpt:

"The more I think about the human suffering in our world and my desire to offer a healing response, the more I realize how crucial it is not to allow myself to become paralyzed by feelings of impotence and guilt. More important than ever is to be very faithful to my vocation to do well the few things I am called to do and hold on to the joy and peace that they bring me. I must resist the temptation to let the forces of darkness pull me into despair and make me one more of their many victims. I have to keep my eyes fixed on Jesus and on those who followed him and trust that I will know how to live out my mission to be a sign of hope in this world" (46-47).

I can relate perfectly with what Nouwen has written here. Sometimes the level of need around me is so great that I literally begin to feel a weight around my shoulders -- an intangible oppressiveness and heaviness that I cannot shake off. The lack of beauty, the desperation and despair, the violence -- it all has a cumulative effect of making me lose sight of hope at times. What can I do in the face of such overwhelming problems? Am I really so naive as to think I can make a difference here? And if I'm not making a difference, then why not just get out and live a more comfortable life? When these questions enter my mind (and they do almost daily), I must sit and just breathe and realize that I cannot allow myself to become "paralyzed by feelings of impotence and guilt."

This is why I am more convinced than ever that an activist (by which I mean a Christian who lives out his or her spirituality by trying to make an impact on the political, social, economic, and spiritual struggles of mankind) must first and foremost be a mystic (by which I mean someone who regularly practices contemplation, meditation, silence, solitude, prayer, study, and an inner craving for the heart for God). Often the two seem divided: the former are the do-gooder community organizers or social workers and the ladder are those monks hidden away in their cloisters. Yet I am convinced that to remain an activist (and I consider myself to at least be an aspiring one), I must first be a mystic. Otherwise, I run out of gas and have nothing to offer. To rest in the infinite love of God -- that is the source for all outward action and all social justice. The second that I forget that, I become no more than an ant struggling to free himself from a gallon of syrup.

Make me a mystic, O God. And from that inner life with You, help me to flow outwardly as one of Your agents in the world. Amen.

A Gripe

Any husband who has the least bit of love or pity for his wife will be infuriated if he sees her come home in tears. Well, I’m infuriated. So here’s my story.

For the last two years my two daughters have been on Medicaid because I made the decision to take a low paying job in the inner city with the hopes of helping people in poverty. I believe in walking in the shoes of those to whom we’re trying to reach and to suffer with those who suffer – at least a little. Well, I have felt their pain.

My wife and I are very competent and responsible people. I have the luxury of a master’s degree and my wife a B. A. And every time that the Medicaid office has requested some paperwork or identification or birth certificates or check stubs or proof of my wife’s unemployment, we are always very quick to comply. But over the past two years, our paperwork has been repeatedly (and I’m talking about at least a half dozen times) “misplaced” by those who work at the Medicaid office. We have sent it in the mail and, when that failed, we have personally driven to their office in downtown Indy and handed it to them in person. Yet is somehow seems to disappear. One time… ok; everyone makes mistakes. Twice… their boss should offer a stern reprimand for negligence. Six or more times… whoever is so incompetent as to do that needs to find a new job.

A year ago one of my daughters became very ill and we were hammered with a $420 medical bill. Supposedly, she was covered by Medicaid. But no, her coverage had been revoked because they supposedly did not have the necessary paperwork (and they failed to notify of this fact). So for the next nine months we fought this. We refused to pay that bill because we knew it wasn’t our fault. We left voicemails, we left notes in their mailbox, we went to their offices and waited for sometimes up to three hours. No dice. We never once got a call back. We never once got any form of a response. And our daughter remained uninsured.

Meanwhile, I noticed that we stopped getting offers for credit cards in the mail. It seemed odd to me because we’d always been getting them. I got curious and ran a free credit report. Interestingly, our credit report had been damaged and we know there is only one reason why: that darn doctor’s bill was so delinquent. I was advised to never pay the bill because then we’d NEVER see the money again even if Medicaid was proven responsible. But after seeing our credit report damaged and after nearly a year of constant, persistent efforts to right this wrong, I finally caved in and wrote the check.

So three weeks ago we were notified that we needed to fill out new paperwork. I did so with meticulous care. But guess what? It was somehow “lost in the mail.” Now both of our daughters are uninsured and sick. We can’t take them to the doctor because we don’t want to shell out another $400 or more.

That brings us to today. My wife simply wanted to tell the caseworker that there must have been some mistake because we know we sent in the paperwork. She waited all morning. No one came. She pleaded. No one came. She even went back to the offices and started knocking on doors. No response except one: a guard came and escorted her back to the lobby. At this point my sweet, polite wife started balling in front of a room filled with people. She pleaded with the guard to help her actually speak to a real human being who could right this injustice. He said that there was nothing he could do. She left for home having seen no one. Another morning wasted – just like the umpteen mornings before.

I’m at a loss to know that to do. It’s all so sickening. After two dozen voicemails left over a period of two years and no responses, you begin to wonder if anyone is even listening. Now I have sick girls and a crying wife and a case worker who doesn’t exist.

I’m tempted to stalk her. Show up at her home or call her at midnight just to see if she really exists. I am totally at a loss. My wife has taken to writing editorials for the newspaper in hopes that something will be done. Meanwhile, I’m seething and waiting for my head to clear until I can think clearly of a course of action.

Is it any wonder why the poor feel so helpless? They are quite literally treated like animals. Everything communicates to them that they are merely a nuisance, a leech on society. And they start to believe it. If my wife and I, educated and responsible as we are, can’t get justice, then how on earth will they? I know that there are worse travesties in the world. And our little situation doesn’t even compare to the politically oppressed of China, the persecuted Christians of India, or the hellish situation in Darfur. But this is America, darn it. We’re supposed to be better than this.

Through this ordeal I’ve learned one thing for sure: it really sucks to be poor.