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."

It's wrong to be a fan of Jesus

Thanks to media overload, I'm still thinking about Michael Jackson.

And I'm noticing how the next step after idolizing a pop star, is turning him or her into whatever we want them to be. This human, Michael Jackson, is being credited with being the greatest entertainer who ever lived, the first person to transcend black/white racial identification, the first black entertainer to attract widespread white interest (really? My husband says that must have been a surprise to Stevie Wonder, James Brown, The Temptations, etc.), someone who taught us all to love the world and actually united the world, etc.

In response to all that, now comes the barrage of psychologists, philosophers and even ministers who are telling us what Michael Jackson "means." I guess what they really mean is, what the illusion/image of MJ means.

Somewhere under all that is the "real" Michael Jackson that none of us ever knew. Because we never knew him, all we can do is talk about the projection of who we think he is, and in some cases, want him to be.

It's that "want him to be" that makes a fan.

And there's the danger I never thought about before when it comes to something I know more about: Christians and Jesus.

Is it possible to be a "fan" of Jesus - to create out of our own desires and some limited information, a Jesus of our own making? To cheer for him, find other fans in that same Jesus, and get in fights with fans of some other "Jesus"? Do we wear his insignia, gather in fan conferences and sing his fight songs? Or like MJ fans, do we project on our "Jesus" all we want the world to be, all we want heaven to be, and what we find "spiritual"?

Ouch. I think there is more to this than I ever considered.

Jesus had lots of fans in the days when he walked the earth. But read John 6 - he intentionally dispersed them. Jesus doesn't want or need fans; he called us to be followers. And that asks of us something entirely different (although on some superficial levels, fandom and followership share some characteristics).

To be a follower is to let the living Jesus into your life. We become entirely aware of His presence, of His love, of His forgiveness -- but Jesus as Lord will make changes, and the long term effect should be that we are more like him. His character - his humility, his confidence, his love and welcome for all, his desire for God to get the glory - these things are immediately apparent when they grow in us, because they're so different from what we are naturally. "Followership" will make us different. Sometimes it will cause us trouble in the world. But it is also extremely welcome in a world where everyone is used to everyone else jockeying for position, power and acceptance.

Fandom, on the other hand, creates divisions, power grabs, fights for influence and striving for attention. Fans are interested in us v. them; fans want to wear the T shirt and find other fans to belong with. Fans turn the object of their interest into a larger representation of themselves, and attribute to their idol their own fears and wishes.

Perhaps we, being human, can't quite help mixing some fan-like behavior into our fumbling attempts at following Jesus. Maybe that is the sign of our need to grow further. But as a pastor it stands out to me this morning that this is a trap to be avoided. Fandom feels really good, but it is not following, and it is not the worship that the living Jesus wants from us.

Celebrating a win?

Tomorrow, a huge memorial service will be held for Michael Jackson.
And today, I’m shocked by the news stories about the “winners” of the lottery to attend to the Jackson service “celebrating.” Just what did they win?
You don’t have to travel far to find someone grousing about the nonstop TV coverage about Michael Jackson’s death, and it’s only a little farther to find someone complaining that Jackson doesn’t deserve all this adulation, what with the accusations against him and all. But that’s not my complaint today. I get it that someone could be both amazingly talented and flawed at the same time, and I’m not here to join in throwing stones at Michael Jackson.
But I guess what I am complaining about is our capacity to lose perspective when it comes to the death of a celebrity. What we ought to be noticing right about now is not only that celebrities put their pants on one leg at a time like everybody else, but also that “it is appointed unto men once to die” (Heb. 9:27 in the old KJV), no matter who you are.
In recent years I’ve been learning something about how quickly the closing parenthesis to our lives can come, and how quickly it can be that our life becomes a finished book, to be analyzed and remembered (or not) by others. This should be a sobering thought, and if we are reflective, it ought to make us think about the meaning and purpose of life itself.
That the same end comes to the “greats” among us should only underscore it.
So what is the meaning of strangers to Michael Jackson celebrating over winning a lottery to sit at his memorial service, as though it were the concert ticket to beat all? Perhaps it is a way for people to avert their eyes from what has really happened: that a person so talented came to such an end, that the very things he fought to keep secret are now known to everyone, that in the end we lose control. We don’t like to know those things – so turn the music up and let’s pretend it’s just one more concert, this one a tribute to the Michael we think we know.
I know nothing about where Michael Jackson stood with his creator, but I know that his creator knew all about him – knew about his hurts and his dreams and his fiercest loves, and the things he felt powerless before. So I hope that at his memorial service there is a hush that will finally overtake the circus atmosphere, that there will be a moment to recognize mortality, and even more, I hope there is a turning, from the best this life can offer, to a glimpse of eternity, and the One who invites us to know Him and love Him, even to the extent that He already knows and loves us (1 Cor. 13:12).
Janet Jackson spoke briefly at the BET awards last week, pointing out that though Michael was image and icon to his fans, to her, he was family – and her grief, over losing a brother that those celebrating their ticket win never knew, was visible in the lines of her face. Michael’s Maker knows a Michael no one else knows (and he knows a “you” and “me” that no one else knows, too) – and the meaning of that ought to fill up that hush at his service.
Let there be awe – not just at Michael Jackson’s footwork, but at the reality of death and the promise of an appointment with God. Let there be humility, that no matter how big the crowds are here that call your name, in the end you really can’t take much with you. And how would it be if then the celebration began, not to drown out the fearful specter of death, but instead to participate in the glory that we aren’t stuck in death, thanks be to God?
That’s what I’m praying for, when it comes to Michael Jackson’s memorial service.
Lord, thank you for the gifts and talents you gave this man – now have mercy on him. Surround his children and family with your comfort. And cause an awe to fall on all who are attentive to his death…that we would see death for what it is, and that we would value your overcoming it for us in Jesus. May we not turn our heads too soon, and so miss your grace. Amen.

They think they're on to us

Jerod Clark at the ThinkChristian blog tells a fascinating story: apparently EA (Electronic Arts) wanted to boost attention to their new video game called "Dante's Inferno," so they hired actors to put on a mock Christian protest outside the largest video game conference in the US! (http://www.thinkchristian.net/index.php/2009/06/30/mocking-christian-protests/)

The fake mob carried protest signs ("Hell is not a video game") and even had a web site which Clark says parodied the bad design of some church web sites.

So, the publicists for EA recognized what some Christians don't: outraged protests about cultural markers often just drum up interest in the thing that outraged the Christians!

When cooler heads prevail, we recognize that Jesus just didn't act this way. In fact, the Pharisees faulted him for his lack of outrage at sinners. But the gospel writer John pointed out that Jesus didn't need anyone to tell him what was in a man (John 2:25). Instead of protesting what made sense to "sinners," he demonstrated God's love for them/us and invited us to follow Him.

Jesus sat down to eat with the folks the Pharisees were outraged at. The only time Jesus ever shows amazement in the gospels it is at the hard-heartedness of those who are supposed to be the "God-people." Why do we continually wind up acting like the wrong ones in this story?

It's not that the world doesn't come up with some outrageous stuff (and a video game about Dante's Inferno doesn't even raise a goosebump). But our job is not to rage at the darkness; it is to bring the light, in just the way that Jesus did it. So we're better off spending more time with Jesus in the Bible, and in prayer, and less time scrutinizing the culture for signs of depravity. The world will show up without us having to look for it, and we'll be much better prepared to be like Him when it does.

Jonah was a whiner; am I?

Last week I attended our denomination's annual meeting: the Covenant of which we are a part, sees itself as a gathering of members, only the members are each churches. Together, those churches pursue Jesus' work in the world, able to do more than each could by themselves.

The focus for our meetings together was "the necessity of the new birth" - this is one of our affirmations; for more info, check out www.covchurch.org -- and at one evening's worship service, our director of evangelism, was the preacher.

Her text was Jonah, and here's what she challenged us with: Jonah, we read in the Bible, was sent to Nineveh to tell the people there that they were in trouble with God and were about to be judged. But Jonah runs away (remember that whole story about the big fish?). Ultimately, Jonah accepts his assignment, goes to Nineveh and brings the message - and then he gets himself a ringside seat to watch God wipe out Nineveh.

But instead, the Ninevites take him seriously! They turn from their depravity and seek God's face and desire to be made friends with God - and God takes them up on it.

You'd think that would be good news, but not to Jonah. Jonah is put out! He wanted fire and brimstone; he wanted them to "get it."

Then we read in the Bible this strange set of circumstances; while Jonah waits on that hillside in the searing sun, God causes a plant to grow up quickly, and Jonah finds shade under its leaves. But the next night, God allows a worm to chew through Jonah's plant, and Jonah finds himself without shelter in the baking sun again, and he declares he is ready to die.

And God calls him on it: Jonah, you're so concerned about your own comfort, and you complain and argue. But there's no room in your heart for the Ninevites..."who don't know their right hand from their left." God makes it plain that God's heart always was for the Ninevites, and it sets up in stark contrast the venal, self-regarding heart of Jonah, who didn't give a fig for the Ninevites and was disappointed that they didn't get punished, but was consumed with concern for his own comfort.

Rev. Orris put the question then to us: are we more concerned with our own comfort, or have we cultivated hearts like God's, that begin to hurt for those around us who don't know their Maker and Father, who "don't know their right hand from their left"? If we aren't telling others the good news, what reason do we have for that?

I'm not sure if it was Rev. Orris who said it or if it the Holy Spirit's challenge to my own heart, but I am reminded again that my relationship with God through Jesus isn't because of my own merit or even that of my parents, but instead it was Jesus who loved me before I was even able to love him. I am, through no merit of my own, "God's workmanship," chosen to do good works which were prepared for me in advance. (Eph 2:10). The word for "workmanship" is poema, from which we get "poem" -- we are God's craftmanship, his work of art, which pleases him and makes us ready to do what he's given us to do.

So I can't sit on the hillside and wait for the world to go to hell in a handbasket. If it weren't for the grace of God I'd be in that handbasket! So am I sitting in the hot sun, deploring the lack of shade, wondering why God isn't making me happy? Or am I out there in the world, open to being used by God to help someone else find new life and hope in the One who loves us so much?
Has it become obvious to me that, instead of being poised to punish the world, God has already taken the punishment of the world on himself, that his crowning creation might be rescued?

Jonah really comes off as a whiner in the scriptures, and yet I was touched by God's continuing work with him, patiently showing him how his whining demonstrated how far he was from the heart of God. God is patient, but it would be great if I could learn from Jonah's mistakes!

"The Shack"

Finally read The Shack (by William P. Young) on a cross-country flight this week. I had heard a lot about it (I think it was on the NYTimes bestseller list for a long time last year). Some said it was a great allegory; others said it was unbiblical. I just didn't know what I was going to think about.

Well, I loved it. It's the story of a man who is angry with God after a terrible tragedy - and God actually invites him into the Trinity's relationship, to have his ideas about God reshaped. I wouldn't want to ruin it for anyone - but I sure do recommend it. I do, that is, as long as the reader remembers it is an allegory written by a mortal, not scripture inspired by the Holy Spirit.

But it is carefully written...and for me, anyway, it was very moving. Let's put it this way: I cried so much through it, I'm sure the flight attendant thought I was headed for a very sad event on the other coast.

One of my favorite moments was when Mack, the main character, answers his host's questions about his children. As his recounting of his children's welfare is carefully attended to, it occurs to him that his hosts already know all this, yet he is still carefully listened to. Why is that, he inquires. The explanation is touching: because his hosts voluntarily limit their own "knowing" in order to hear his accounts, because God wants to hear about how he sees his children. What an enormous picture of what happens when we pray! How much God loves us, to listen to our prayers!

I was discussing the book with a friend at the Covenant Annual Meeting - he said that it just didn't move him. It wasn't that he found it doctrinally deficient, he said, but it just didn't move him. He said that he wondered if that was because he didn't have kids - and that may be true. The Shack certainly touched me in a very deep place as a parent; I don't know how I would hear it if I didn't have that experience. Love to hear more from others about the book.

Crying for Freedom

Last weekend, I was riveted by the Twitter thread and live-blogging from the streets and rooftops of Iran. It was thrilling to hear of regular people making a decision to take back the power that had been used against them; it was, however, tragic when it sank in that these voices belonged to real people who were being beat up and even killed for taking such a stand. The thrill was diminished when I considered that if my family were there, I'd probably prefer that my young adult children not participate in such high-stakes speech. And yet, guiltily, I do want the people of Iran - particularly the women of Iran - to prevail in their efforts to have their say over the powers that seem to have stolen their votes in their country.

So what would be worth such risks, if it were me and mine? What does Jesus really think about these issues?

Despite the tendency all his followers have had to co-opt Jesus for whatever their cause has been over the millennia, Jesus in the Bible seems to be relatively disinterested in the political fray of his day. It wasn't that the situation was any better - Israel was occupied by a pagan empire that regularly offended Jewish values. The people were overtaxed by the occupiers and again by their own people who collaborated with the Romans. Their local rulers didn't stand up for them against the Romans, and their local religious leaders added to their burdens.

When Jesus arrived on the scene at the start of his ministry, the zealots - the activists who were trying to undermine or overthrow the Romans - thought he might be recruited for their cause, but Jesus paid them no mind. When Roman taxes were due, Jesus paid them (however supernaturally).

Jesus just as quickly distinguished himself from the party of the Pharisees, who were trying to get everyone to obey the Jewish law meticulously, the better to encourage God to bring Messiah to overthrow the Romans -- Jesus intentionally healed unworthy "sinners" over and over again on the Sabbath, to the Pharisees' outrage, proclaiming that God had made the Sabbath to serve humanity, not humanity to serve the Sabbath.

Everyone who tried to get Jesus on their side wound up disappointed. The gospels display a Jesus who was quite clear what his cause was, and he didn't make alliances with other causes: his cause was God's "kingdom," the emerging of God's rule over a new administration and a new tribe, the beginning of a new thing that was going to endure right through the end of the world and beyond. This new thing would be made up of people who had been made entirely new from the inside out, spiritually, by him, and these people would begin to display his characteristics and to do what he did in this world. What they created together was supposed to show the world how things are when God is in charge.

That new thing is what the church is supposed to be, and it does still endure, even though it is surrounded by a whole lot of fluff and mess that Jesus' followers can't resist creating, too. The real "kingdom" of God is supposed to be our main cause, and never to be supplanted by any other. The kingdom is where earth's inhabitants are supposed to find real freedom, real healing, real acceptance, real love. From that kingdom, we earth-dwellers who belong to Jesus can also engage on issues of war and peace, prosperity and poverty, propriety and freedom - but without losing sight of the eternal big picture and for whom we always work (and why: there is no freedom while we are estranged from our Maker).

I believe in freedom; I believe in free speech and voting rights and democracy. I think that in our broken world these are the best ways for humans to thrive (and while we are at it, the best circumstances under which the church can thrive). But they are not my main cause and can never be: I'm already taken by the kingdom of God.