An apology for scoffing - and an apologetic for humility

I have a confession to make. I have been a "scoffer."

Psalm 1 says, "oh, the joys of those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or stand around with sinners, or join in with scoffers. But they delight in doing everything the LORD wants." (New Living Translation)

But it so much fun to be a scoffer! It's so pleasant to hang around with those who see things exactly the way you do, and laugh at those who disagree. We know who we are; we're the ones who are right! The more we mock our "opponents," the more sure we are that we belong. It is a satisfying feeling.

Jesus, however, asks something higher of us. He told us to "follow" Him, and He deliberately invited people who didn't hang out much with each other to be his disciples. He willingly ate with all kinds of folks, and every time he did, there was some other group of people disapproving of his dinner company. By being with them, he didn't become like them - instead, he modeled godliness in the midst of them, by loving them, listening to them, and gently redirecting them. Simon the Pharisee was a person to him (even though Simon was rude); the woman crying at his feet and wiping them with her hair was a person to him (even though she was a lawbreaker). All persons were, to him, people made in the image of God who labored under the handicap and deceit of sin - they were the "sick" for whom he had come as doctor. All persons.

So since Paul told us that our attitude should be exactly the same as Jesus', and then reminded us that Jesus "poured himself out" for us, "making himself nothing," and obeying God all the way to the cross for us, why do we think it is our obedient task to decide who is wrong and then assume the worst about them? To laugh and point and call names, which makes us feel ever so safe?

Yesterday I received an email from a Christian video web site. It invited me to watch a new video, their "staff pick." This comedy video featured a "Christian comedian" singing a well-known tune for which the words had been changed - and his version mocked a particular political point of view. Hey, it's just a joke, right? But the words accused his political opponents of thievery and worse, and most of all, of being out to get him.

Seriously? This is Christianity now?

I'm not unfamiliar with politics, and -- see my original confession - not unfamiliar with political scoffing. But seeing it done with the label "Christian" brought me up short: it's NOT Christian - Christ-honoring - to accuse others of evil intent, and evil identity, just because they don't agree with me. And when others ARE up to no good, it's not funny. And if I as a Christian feel it is my duty to point it out, I'd better be sure of it --because not only is the other's reputation at stake, so is my Lord's. He is the one whose name I bear - and what does it mean to use the name of the Lord in vain?

So I repent. I will be more careful to consider others as people for whom Christ died, and commit to praying even for those I may never meet but whose positions I disagree with. And I call others who bear the name of Jesus, to make this commitment as well - for His glory.

You want me to love WHO?

So, who, exactly, is my neighbor?

When Jesus said loving our neighbor as ourselves was the second greatest commandment, just who did he have in mind? After all, there are huge differences between the way we live now and the way that Israelites lived when that command was first given (Lev. 19:18). Does he mean my literal next-door neighbor? Does he mean the person standing next to me at church? Does he mean "those of my tribe" - after all, he was talking to a tribal nation.

Of course, that's exactly the next question asked (by the "rich, young ruler," Luke 10:29). And Jesus made things a lot tougher on us by answering him with the story of the Good Samaritan. The upshot of his story is that our neighbor is anyone we can have mercy on, even if that is someone declared to be our enemy!

That makes trouble for us followers of Jesus when we begin to negotiate in the political sphere, because of course the mandate underlying much of politics is to win, for my group to win, my people to win, my party to win (and for those others to lose). Politics, and much of our culture, advises us to look out for number 1, because you can be sure no one else is busy looking out for you.

As Jesus' people, our mandate is to make "shalom," that whole-life harmony, health and peace of Paradise, wherever and whenever we can - that's the point of that picture given us of the first church in its worship and life together in Acts 2:42-47. It will be fleeting on this earth before the Lord returns, but that doesn't take away our task to aim at it. Our job is to have mercy wherever and whenever we can. We're supposed to be looking out for the interests of others (Phil. 2:4). We can disagree about how to do that and whether it should or should not be done through government means, but what we cannot succumb to is the temptation to say, "I've got mine; go take care of yourself." Not even if we think the troubles of others are their own fault.
Jesus told us to love our neighbor as we love ourselves - how can that not mean working for others to have the same benefits I've enjoyed?

Jesus told us that in God's kingdom the last shall be first, and the first, last; and he told us that if we have two coats, we should give one to the man who has none. These things must inform our public personas as well as our church selves. We must act with wisdom, and love sometimes calls for restraint - but it never gives us permission to bolt our door and throw up walls and begin to defend ourselves and see those in need as a threat.

I admire those who keep themselves from getting caught up in a party spirit, who work diligently to find the best solutions to our common problems, and who take a lot of fire while they're working at it. This is the best kind of situation for Jesus' people to stop and ask themselves, "what would Jesus do?"

Jesus, who touched the lepers and conversed with ostracized women and washed the disciples' feet, would surely never advocate at attitude that says, "I've got mine; you're on your own."