What's Social Justice Without Jesus?

I had the opportunity to visit a college-town mega-church this past Sunday. It had a huge campus, a coffee bar, great decor, a ton of young people and a rockin' praise and worship service. It's truly remarkable what God is doing there, and I was certainly happy to be a part of the service.

The sermon was good, too. Its title was "Kingdom Living," and the pastor asked, somewhat rhetorically, if we truly understood what it means to live the way Jesus told us to live. He explained, quite rightly, that Christ's way of living is radically different from the way our culture tells us to live. Naturally, he incorporated some manifestations of "Kingdom Living." Cleaning up at a homeless shelter. Buying food for an orphan in Honduras. And so it went.

It's amazing to witness what God's Church is doing in what we're told is a post-modern world. Oh, His people have always been generous to a fault. Studies show Christians are much more philanthropic than the public at large. Even Christians in lower tax brackets are prone to giving what they have much more readily than those who make more money but don't identify with a specific belief system.

But what's changed in the last generation or so is an awareness of social issues that may have escaped Christians in another time. Evangelicals today focus their energies on environmental issues, believing it to be a moral cause and worthy of their God-given mandate to change the world for the better. We care about fair trade; sure, Christians have always been aware of global poverty--one of my Sunday School classes when I was a child sponsored a child in El Salvador--but today we think twice about buying a cup of coffee. Was the man who grew these beans paid a fair price, and can he feed his family in the name of my desire for a latte? That silk shirt I'm wearing--was it stitched by an eight year-old boy in a Indonesian sweatshop?

These are all critically important issues, and I'm so very thankful that today's Church cares about--and works toward a solution for--these and other problems of social injustice.

But there's an inherent problem that comes with this new worldview. It walks a dangerous tightrope between faith- and Grace-based salvation and a works-based system of belief. Scripture tells us Christ's sacrifice on Calvary was an act of supreme Grace, one that we could never merit, deserve or accomplish on our own. In short, there's nothing we can ever do to bridge the gap between our humanity and God's divinity. 

We must be very careful, then, that we keep spreading the Gospel forefront when confronting social justice. The old saying goes "No Jesus? No Peace. Know Jesus. Know Peace." That's doggone right, trite though it may be.

Fighting social injustice without incorporating Jesus into the mix doesn't mean anything to the one ministering or to the one being ministered to. That's because the minister isn't able to reconcile himself to God through works, and the one being ministered to cannot hope to find reconciliation to God through someone other than Jesus.

What's your take? Is tackling social injustice without the Gospel message worth anything? Why or why not? Share your thoughts...

A New Stereotype of West Virginia Christians

His face is red and bloated. Spittle is on the corner of his mouth. His eyes rage like the anger in his heart. He rails against sin, homosexuals, minorities--really, aren't they all the same?--and, later, handles a snake.

Who is he? A West Virginia Christian, of course.

Yeah, but there's a problem here. I don't know the guy. Oh, he exists. Somewhere. Too many places, in fact. But the Christians I know are something quite different. They call out of the blue to tell me they love me. Pray for me when I'm sick. Counsel me when I'm down. Worship with me when I'm happy.

Today, a statewide network of bloggers here in West Virginia are joining a conversation started a week ago about how we can redefine the stereotypes surrounding West Virginians. You've no doubt read about us. We're illiterate, bigoted, incestual, barefoot and pregnant. That's the common perception, isn't it? Vice President Dick Cheney thinks so. Get in line, buddy.

All of the West Virginia bloggers working on the ABetterWestVirginia project--timed to coincide with West Virginia Day (that's today, June 20; we broke away from Virginia on this day in 1863)--have their own niche. Some will talk politics. Others, art. For me, it's an opportunity to confront the same stereotypes that hound what you might call an "evangelical Christian."

But, again, those stereotypes--like those of West Virginians in general--are simply wrong. That's not to say Christians haven't made their mistakes. We've emphasized God's justice at the expense of His mercy. We are paying a steep price for that overemphasis of one aspect of God's nature at the expense of another. The Barna Group is an evangelical polling organization that analyzes demographic information about spirituality, religion and Christianity in American cultural life. As research for the book UnChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks About Christianity, Barna found that of 24 million non-Christians aged 16-29, fewer than half view "evangelical" Christians "in a positive light."

Something is desperately wrong here. The story of Jesus is one of love, sacrifice and redemption. Yet somehow we've failed to communicate that message properly, and the result is that emerging generations are either walking away from the faith--or eschewing it from the very beginning.

It's especially true here in West Virginia. Socio-cultural trends are admittedly slow to take root here. A groundswell of modern Christian congregations that are embracing the need for greater dialogue and cultural relevance is taking place across the country, but that conversation is largely silent here. This must change. The Church in West Virginia must adapt and find better ways of communicating Christ's message to a new generation that, as UnChristian says "esteem(s) fair-mindedness and diversity, they are irreverent and blunt. Finding ways to express themselves and their rage is an endless pursuit. Being skeptical of leaders, products and institutions is part of their generational coding...They do not trust things that seem too perfect, accepting that life comes with its share of messiness and off-the-wall experiences and people."

Let me be clear on something here: I'm not advocating a softening of The Gospel, nor any stance that would capitulate on core doctrine. Far from it. I think society is desperate for a people with the courage to live their convictions. As a Christian, I firmly believe that Jesus is the answer to this messy thing we call life. I stand on that conviction. I trust in it. I weep because of its beauty. I am honored to stand in defense of it.

Yet the question remains: if we are to counter culture's opinions--and expectations--of Christians and re-define stereotypes not just in West Virginia but worldwide, we must find a way to communicate the Truth with courage...and just a little bit of humilty.

I welcome all comments. Feel free to comment on-page, or e-mail feedback to CandidChristian@gmail.com.

Brian McLaren Speaks...Again

Here's the thing: I don't want to come off as being reactionary when it comes to Emergent types in general and Brian McLaren specifically. I really don't. I also don't want to be what Emergents roll their eyes at--an evangelical, Reformed Christian who only points out bad theology or worldview instead of engaging in dialogue.

But if I am what I hate, then I have something in common with the Apostle Paul, and that puts me in good company. Am I rationalizing? Sure.

That said, here's some thoughts on McLaren's interview with the Associated Press. His quotes are first, in italics.

Q: How is what you recommend different than the humanitarian work churches do already?
A: It's not working within the paradigm that a lot of Christians work — which is all that God is ultimately interested in is extracting souls for heaven. And we might do some good works here on earth, but we don't really expect any of it to work, because the world is sort of, the toilet has been flushed and it's going down.

Ummm...OK. So far, so good. No complaints here. This is one of the central points of why I walked away from my faith in my late teens/early 20s (real original, huh?) and why society has de-valued Christian thought in recent decades.

Q: What do you mean by systemic change?
A: You can make incremental changes within a subsystem but in order to actually change a whole system you have to get a lot of the parts changing all at once. ... You can pour money into building a school, but then if there's a war, the war wipes out all the benefit you got from the school and the school shuts down. You can improve agriculture, but if HIV runs through, then there's so much upheaval, then you can't maintain the advances in agriculture.

And now we're 2-for-2. Of course, I would argue that the "whole system" of Christian theology hardly needs changing. Again, and this is the central point of my beef with Emergent types, if we start talking about systemic change, then we get down a path that questions Christ's divinity the inerrancy of Scripture, etc.

Q: But there's an impression churches are already so active on these issues. Why does anyone need to urge churches to do this?
A: One of the really important concepts is the difference between mercy and justice. There's that famous passage from Micah 6, "Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God." One way to describe it is unjust systems throw people into misery and mercy brings us to relieve some of their misery, but until we confront the unjust systems by doing justice we're never going to make a change. ... I think what churches in America, especially evangelical churches, are just waking up to is the way they have to deal with systemic injustice, not just charitable giving to people in misery.

Bravo, Mr. McLaren. Bravo.

I think the naivete of some of those critics is that they're starting with a pure pristine understanding of the Gospel. It seems to me we're all in danger of screwing up.

OK, now we're starting to have trouble. A pristine understanding of the Gospel? How about "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life...no one comes to the Father but through Me." How are we in danger of screwing up if we start with that as cornerstone No. 1? Is that not a pristine understanding of the Gospel? Look, I know "no one comes to the Father but through Me" is divisive. But Jesus said it. Sorry. End of story.

Ten years ago, the question was, why are Gen-Xers dropping out of church? .. So we've been grappling with these very deep theological questions over the last five or seven years.

Fantastic. That's the question I've been seeking an answer to as well. I know my own story, and I would suspect it is similar to others'.

Q: What are the weaknesses of the movement?
A: Nobody had a master strategy for this. That creates weaknesses as well as strengths. It means you don't have anybody calling the shots and it means that things happen in a somewhat haphazard way. And I think there's a huge range of responses. ... Among evangelicals you have people who are not doing any theological rethinking at all. The theology that they inherited, they're staying with 100 percent. They're trying to do sort of methodological innovation (in styles of worship). And my personal feeling is that's great. Those'll be steps in a good direction... I'm not a purist about anything. I think it's all good. We're all trying to stumble along and take some steps in the right direction. Others of us are asking theological questions and that's always messy.

I am a purist...about Jesus, what He said, what He did. I'm not apologizing for it. It seems like too many people are. Again, the big question: What if Jesus meant everything He said? And, again, what does "theological rethinking" mean, anyway? Does it mean we are rethinking core aspects of the faith, the Truth of Christ? The inerrancy of the Word of God? Because these are areas where there can be no compromise. Again, that's divisive. But Jesus was divisive to a lot of people. That's one of the reasons they wanted to kill Him. (But they failed...they didn't kill Jesus. Jesus laid down His life.)

...if liberal means that government can solve all of our problems and that secularism is better than faith, and that it doesn't matter what you do in your personal life and that morality is up for grabs, then I'm not a liberal.

Nor am I.

I welcome all comments. Feel free to comment on-page, or e-mail feedback to CandidChristian@gmail.com.

I Am Not A Good Person

My daughter talked to God today. As far as I'm aware, it's the first time she's done so without being prodded. She's not yet three years-old.

The impetus of her piety was a cracker. She was eating a saltine and, lifting it to the ceiling of our dining room, she offered it to God.

'I love you, God. We love you. I love you for my cracker.'

Today I consumed, in order, two cups of coffee; one pancake; a half a cup of scrambled eggs; two more cups of coffee; two freshly made bowls of cheddar and potato soup; two chunks of beer-batter bread; a small glass of cola; a bowl of cooked pasta with tomato sauce; another chunk of that bread; a saltine; a glass of something called 'prickly pear cooler;' and, later, I'll probably have some popcorn and another can of cola. I'll take a hot shower and brush my teeth. If I have a headache or my back hurts, I'll take some Advil. I'll climb into bed in a warm room with clean sheets. I may or may not sleep well, but in the morning I'll wake up and head to church without any fear of religious persecution. Indeed, my culture values religion to the point that I'm considered a more solid citizen for being religious. On Monday, I'll go to work where, with my wife's income, I make enough money to pay for two cars, a house in the suburbs, two vacations a year and a wardrobe of clothes voluminous enough that I could go two, maybe three weeks and never wear the same outfit twice. My two girls are healthy, never miss a doctor's appointment. I don't worry about malnutrition, malaria, disease.

Christ tells me to love others as myself. He made it a commandment, on par with not killing people and staying true to my wife. I say I care about others, but I don't. Not really. Near my house there's an Interstate overpass under which a man sleeps. I pass by his makeshift bed every day and do nothing. I give a little cash to charity--my wife hopped online during American Idol recently and gave our credit card number to the tune of $20, supposedly to help feed African children--and there's this little girl's picture on our fridge who lives in El Salvador; we give her a little money too, but not very much. A Christian radio station gets a few bucks. Our church does, too. But that's it. That's all. I smile, act like a good follower of Jesus, tell co-workers about Him and hope, when I face Him in a few years, that He conveniently forgets how callous I was with the life He gave me.

There's a story in the Bible. It's kinda famous. A rich dude comes to Jesus and wants to know what He can do to make it to Heaven. Jesus tells him to give everything he has to the poor and follow Him. That's it. No qualifiers. No disclaimers. Just that simple. And the man couldn't do it.

What if Jesus meant what He said? What if He means what He says right now?

'If any man would be my disciple, He must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me.' That's Jesus. That's what He said. That's what He meant. That's what He means. I say I want to be His disciple. I say that I am. But do I really? Am I really? Oh, I'm redeemed, saved, sanctified...whatever you want to call it.

But am I His disciple? Or am I just pretending to be?

I have all that I need. I have most of what I want. Yet there are people, not thousands of miles away, but right here, in my community, who face terrible need, terrible suffering. Who will be Jesus to them? It won't be me...I've already proven that.

Yet here is my daughter, fresh and innocent, standing before a God she knows is there, offering up a simple saltine in thanksgiving. I am humbled by that simple act of piety, and ashamed that my own doesn't properly extend to a true understanding of what it means to boldly live my faith.

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Bring the rain -- and pain

"Oh, that I might have my request, and that God would fulfill my hope, that it would please God to crush me, that He would let loose His hand and cut me off! This would be my comfort; I would even exult in pain unsparing, for I have not denied the words of the Holy One."

(Job 6:8-10, ESV)

You know, one of the aspects of my Christian life that I'm pretty good at is faith.

Sure, it sounds simplistic. After all, you can't really follow Christ unless you have faith in who He is.

That's not specifically the kind of faith I'm talking about. The point I'm making is that I'm always consciously aware that God, in His benevolence, mercy and grace, is taking care of me. It's the Bobby McFerrin approach to Christianity: Don't worry, be happy.

There's a simple reason behind it, too: I'm a simple guy. I'm not a deep thinker, much as I'd like to be. I recently listened to a lecture entitled "Hermeneutical and Exegetical Integrity." Don't ask me what it was about. Heck, I'm not even sure I spelled that right.

The point I'm making is that I govern my life by common sense. I am Pavlov's dog; that is, I'm conditioned to understand that God has always -- always -- taken care of me. The Guy is batting 1.000 here. He never misses.

Now, I don't want to fall back on the ol' Romans 8:28 standby if for no other reason that it could very well be the most mis-interpreted passage of scripture that most people -- non-Christians too, ironically enough; they clearly aren't reading it properly -- like to recite each time they stub their toe. This is a whole post of its own, and I don't want to get off on a tangent here, but it's important to realize that there are a number of components that come into play when referring to "all things work together for good," namely, that not everything in every circumstance is all hunky dory. Sometimes things go terribly, terribly wrong, and if you're hoping for Romans to bail you out, you might be in for a rude awakening.

The point is, I've always had a strong sense of personal faith in the collective -- ALL things work TOGETHER for good -- plan of omniscient God, and can look past individual painful circumstances to realize there's a Big Picture.

Problem is, lately I've realized that's not enough, mainly because of this song. (You can listen to a portion of it here.) I can't rest on those laurels. It's all too easy to say I have full faith that God will work things out. Indeed, I take a certain amount of Pharisaical pride in being a Big Picture guy.

So the question I have is this: how can one go from a mindset of knowing, understanding and accepting that trouble is a fact of life and that it all works out in the end, to actively pursuing trial and tribulation for the express purpose of God's glory.

Now, don't misunderstand here. God doesn't want us to hurt. He doesn't seek our pain, nor does He, with a flick of His divine finger, play a cosmic game of Eenie-Meanie-Miney-Moe, seeking to pick out those He would hurt just for some sense of morbid fascination. He doesn't play games with our lives. That's not the God I know, although that god is often taught in some theological circles. Mark Driscoll calls it "Cruel Calvinism," or a belief system in which God is sovereign, but not good. It's important to understand that He is both. God doesn't cause bad things to happen, but we live in a world governed by free will. Where there is free will, there is sin. And where there is sin, there is pain. But the beautiful part of pain is this: "... though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the test genuineness of your faith -- more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire -- may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 1:6b, 7 ... make sure you read it in full context here.)

So, do we need to actively pursue and seek trial and tribulation? That's not rhetorical; I don't really know. What I do know is that Peter understood that the ebbs and flows of life are there for a reason, that the pain we feel now, from time to time, is an essential part of the process of sanctification that began with our new birth and won't be completed until our death.

That means, for me, I have to move beyond resting on a faith that relies on common sense. The faith that takes its place should be one that maybe doesn't relish or seek out pain but embraces it as an opportunity to see God's divine plan at work both in good times and bad.

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