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.

Free Methodism and the Poor

Last Thursday I gave a presentation to the Family Camp of the Wabash Conference that I am part of. I'm posting this because a number of people asked to have access to it. It is free for anyone to use.

View it at this link:

PowerPoint Presentation: Free Methodism and Ministry to the Poor

Feature Story

Spades Park Library from M Stewart on Vimeo.

Inspiration from Martin Luther King Jr.

I've recently picked up a book by Philip Yancey that my father bought for me a couple months ago for my birthday. It's called "Soul Survivor: How Thirteen Unlikely Mentors Helped My Faith Survive the Church." I have to admit that I feared Yancey would be too "evangelical" for my liking, but I have been pleasantly surprised at what I've found. Here is a man who is genuine, who has been hurt deeply by dysfunctional religion in ways I've never come close to, and who is earnestly willing to follow the truth wherever it may lead.

For those of you who know me, you might be aware that I'm going through some tough times. I'm struggling with my daily walk with the Lord and feel under attack each day. Ministry has been grueling; the inner city has been overwhelming; my spiritual disciplines have been eroding. But today as I read in Yancey's book about the life of Martin Luther King Jr. (one of the thirteen), I was moved to tears. In fact, if I hadn't been sitting in a public place, I would have been weeping. So today for my blog entry, I just offer an except from Soul Survivor:

"[One night after being released from the Montgomery City Jail at the age of 26] King, shaken by his first jail experience, sat up in his kitchen wondering if he could take it any more. Should he resign? It was around midnight. He felt agitated, and full of fear. A few minutes before the phone had rung. "Nigger, we are tired of you and your mess now. And if you aren't out of this town in three days, we're going to blow your brains out, and blow up your house."

King sat staring at an untouched cup of coffee and tried to think of a way out, a way to quietly surrender leadership and resume the serene life of scholarship he had planned. In the next room lay his wife Coretta, already asleep, along with their newborn daughter Yolanda. Here is how King remembers it in a sermon he preached:

'And I sat at that table thinking about that little girl and thinking about the fact that she could be taken away from me any minute. And I started thinking about a dedicated, devoted and loyal wife, who was over there asleep... And I got to the point that I couldn't take it anymore. I was weak...

And I discovered then that religion had to become real to me, and I had to know God for myself. And I bowed down over that cup of coffee. I will never forget it... I prayed a prayer, and I prayed out loud that night. I said, "Lord, I'm down here trying to do what's right. I think I'm right. I think the cause that we represent is right. But Lord, I must confess that I'm weak now. I'm faltering. I'm losing my courage."

.... And it seemed at that moment that I could hear an inner voice saying to me, "Martin Luther, stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for truth. And lo I will be with you, even until the end of the world." ... I heard the voice of Jesus saying still to fight on. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone. No never alone. No never alone. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone.'

Three nights later, as promised, a bomb exploded on the front porch of King's home, filling the house with smoke and broken glass but injuring no one. King took it calmly: 'My religious experience a few nights before had given me the strength to face it'" (20-21).

I don't dare compare myself to the great Martin Luther King Jr. He was a prophet of the first order. But as I read his story... that he was only in his twenties (as I still am for another 10 months), about his fears for his little girl and wife, his weakness and loss of courage, and his desire to retreat to a "serene life of scholarship" (all of which I can relate to perfectly), I was deeply impacted by the simple message given to him by God: "I am with you."

That's really all anyone ever needs. We don't need a home or clothing or a car to drive. We don't need food or water or air. But we do need God with us. Today I realize that that is the one thing I need. And I have it.

Midrash: Luke 1:46-55

The Jewish rabbis have it right. For centuries, they've been telling us that we don't just "read the Bible as it is" -- we are always interpreting the text whether we're aware of it or not. It's actually an insight that only recently mainstream scholars in both biblical studies as well as in literature have come to accept. The French postmodern Derrida has helped us to see this. And, although I don't agree with him in his extreme arguments that all meaning lies within us rather than within the text, his observations are entirely accurate inasmuch as they make us aware of our own theological biases and the inability of us to transcend those biases.

The Jews have a long tradition of what they call midrash. A midrash is an extended , very loose paraphrase of the sacred texts which makes explicit the ways the reader interprets what she reads. (Ha'aretz, the oldest news daily of Israel, offers a better definition: "Midrash is a way of interpreting biblical stories that goes beyond simple distillation of religious, legal or moral teachings. It fills in many gaps left in the biblical narrative regarding events and personalities that are only hinted at.")

I recognize that some conservative Christians who think of the Bible as some immutable, purely divine document handed down from on high with little or no human influence (much as Muslims view the Qu'ran) will be uncomfortable with the seemingly biased nature of midrash. Nevertheless, I find it to be a helpful practice on many levels since it elucidates the way we read the text, makes us aware of our own biases, and expounds upon the Scripture in a manner similar to what preachers do every Sunday.

As a side note, I was introduced to the practice of midrash by two Christians, Brian Walsh and Sylvia Keesmaat, in their wonderful book called Colossians Remixed that I highly recommend to anyone. So, with fear and trembling, I am trying my hand at midrash for the first time. Eventually, I might even do one on the entirety of Luke-Acts (since those are my favorite books of the Bible and the ones I've studied the most in an academic manner).

Below is a midrash on Luke 1:46-55, known as Mary's Song or the Magnificat.

*******

Unable to contain herself any longer, the virgin Mary broke out into song and this is what she declared:

The innermost depth of my soul -- that part of me which makes me human and sets me apart from animal creation -- is compelled to sing glories and praises to YHWH, my God.

The breath within my lungs -- which animated to life the first man Adam from the dust -- aches to scream praises and honor to the Saving God whom I serve --

For he, yes YHWH the Unspeakable One, has actually turned his attention, his Divine Mind to me -- a lowly, humble, insignificant young woman of no social standing without any prestige to my name.

Because of what He has done, generation upon generation will remember the name "Mary" and declare that I am honored and favored by God Almighty.

And why will people honor me for centuries to come? Because the strong and mighty One who defends me against the proud has looked at me with favor. He has decided to choose me and to delight in me. Oh how sacred His Name is to me!

To those who show Him the awe and honor that is due to Him, YHWH has proven merciful and faithful throughout the ages from one generation to another.

God's arm is strong. He actively works in this world to bring about justice on behalf of those who are powerless.

Those who are arrogant are brought low by Him. Those who think they control the world because they have large bank accounts or plenty of lobbyists -- those who handle politicians like puppets on a string and think that the rules do not apply to them -- those who trust in their own power and make a mockery of the poor and powerless -- those who sit on the thrones of kings and make decrees that change the lives of millions of unseen people -- those who place money and power above all else: these people are being and will be brought low by my God. Such so-called "rulers and authorities" will in the end learn that all of their self-aggrandizing will amount to nothing.

And in their place, who will God put into positions of honor, power, and authority? Silly little girls like myself who were once thought to have no significance. He will raise up the orphan in China. He will raise up the sex slaves in Thailand. He will raise us the Dalits ("Untouchables") of India. He will raise up the unborn baby that never had a voice. He will raise up the poor in urban centers of wealthy nations who have been caught in systems of oppression created by those with power. He will raise up the lowly even as He brings down the powerful.

Those who go hungry at night and know the pangs of thirst as they fall asleep will be invited to a grand banquet -- the likes of which has never been seen by even the richest corporate executive. The hungry will hunger no more. They will eat fine foods and drink fine wines late into the night.

Meanwhile, those who once thought of the world as their playground will go away in hunger, destitution, and poverty. The wealthy and powerful will have the rug pulled out from under them and they will have nothing, NOTHING left to stand on.

YHWH made a promise to Abraham and his children centuries ago. And although it may seems as though He has long since forgotten that promise, He has not. The nation that cries out to God, "Where are you? How long, O Lord?" will once again break out into jubilant song and dance when they realize that YHWH has remembered them and shown mercy to them and uplifted them from their pit. The merciful protection of God is still upon his people like myself who place their trust in him. The oppressed shall go free and the oppressor shall be brought low.

I cannot help but sing.

Books or Basketball?

I was pleased to see that they used something I said in this story.

Blessed are the Peacemakers...

I'm seriously wondering if these people read the same Bible I do. Get serious. When these people speak of "the gospel" they mean something totally foreign to my mind.

Two More Spotlights

http://www.nuvo.net/nuvo/closings-loom-for-libraries/Content?oid=1354794

Conscientious Objector

I thought I would make this letter public since I do that sort of thing.

- Greg

**************

April 28, 2010

To the Wabash Conference of the Free Methodist Church of North America:

I am here declaring my right to register officially with the Free Methodist Church as a conscientious objector to war in accordance with the Book of Discipline Section A, Paragraph 332.3 (1995 Book of Discipline).

Briefly stated, after several years of intense study on the morality of war, I have concluded that Christ calls his followers to a nonviolent, alternative way of life which upholds the suffering cross as our example rather than military power or national flags. I believe Christians are called to resist evil, but to do so without entering into the very violence that the world condones. Many of Jesus’ teachings seem to me to be quite clear on this point, especially in his famous Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7.

I renounce the desire to control the course of history as misguided and commit myself to fidelity to God’s sovereign purposes even at the cost of my own life. We worship and imitate the Lamb Who Was Slain. On the cross, Christ redefined the meaning of “power” and revealed to us that the ultimate redemption of creation is laid on the foundation of self-giving, suffering love for the sake of the Other rather than upon retaliation.

Violence is cyclical. This has been demonstrated through all of world history and I am convinced that, among his many other missions, Christ came to teach us how to break out of the cycle of violence that has existed since Cain and Abel. Although not a professing Christian, I certainly agree with the insight of Mahatma Ghandi who said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth and the whole world would soon be blind and toothless.” Forgiveness breaks the cycle and puts an end to it. We, as the people of God, must have such a radical trust in the power of God and his resurrection that we would rather die than participate in the violence introduced to the world through sin.

Lastly, I believe that blind patriotism and sworn oaths of loyalty to a nation-state can compromise the Christian position. The agenda of God’s kingdom does not always align itself with the agenda of the United States or any other nation. For this reason, I prefer to swear no loyalty or allegiance to my nation lest it compromise my citizenry in a sacred country – the peaceable kingdom. Hence, I would find it a violation of my moral conscience to enter into the military or even public office for fear that it could divide my loyalty and put me in a position of moral compromise.

Respectfully Submitted,

Gregory R. Coates