Cultural reality check: child evangelism as seen through the lens of Harpers Magazine

Rachel Aviv’s article, Like I was Jesus: How to bring a nine-year-old to Christ (August 2009, Harpers Magazine) may be one of the most important pieces of non-fiction literature I’ve read. It is aesthetic enough to be beautiful yet plain enough to get out of the way. She drops just enough insight to propel the reader forward, but is wise enough to mostly prop the piece up as a kind of mirror. A very effective mirror.

It’s a long article, but well worth the investment. Here are my random thoughts:

I found myself growing angry with the tactics used to bring children to Christ. Specifically, the way they separate kids from family members is just plain creepy. Also, I was struck by the way they use story and metaphors to perpetuate a closed concept of God. Does this bother anyone else?

The missionaries are communicating an increasingly untenable worldview. It’s a social imaginary of God – namely, an individually incubated form of superstitious certainty – that won’t hold up under the weight of a pluralistic society, the hardships of life, or, for that matter, the goodness we regularly encounter through others.

They are creating little fundamentalists. The only way to maintain the beliefs being conveyed by the Child Evangelism Fellowship (at least, as they’re represented in the article) is to sequester oneself in relative isolation with others who adhere to the same set of narrow beliefs. This doesn’t bode well for the cultivation of a just and peaceful society.

The author was on her own faith journey. I thought Aviv seemed to be grieving the loss of her own childhood faith, while simultaneously coming to grips with its dysfunction. My impression was that she was longing for a faith that is intelligent enough to make sense of a complex world and exist with integrity alongside other forms of knowledge in a way that reflects sociological/cultural adulthood. I think this may be true of our culture in general.

I was (and continue to be) haunted by the way Aviv wrote about story and narrative:

The Fellowship, too, equates children with a more primitive phase in our culture. It reaches backward in time, creating a community that is still vulnerable, prone to magical explanations, and free of secular learning. Children are predisposed to the fundamentalist’s literal mode of reading. Unlike adults, they are not yet suspicious of the way that stories—with their seductive yet predictable arcs—try to capture our imaginations. They can still surrender to the world of a narrative.

Story/narrative is a major thread throughout this piece, which is interesting to me because it’s a rather popular topic in the theological world too. The author essentially tries to expose the use of narrative as a way of perpetuating a more primitive (that is, inferior) social imaginary and she seems to believe that story itself is a more primitive (that is, inferior) medium.

If her perspective is typical of educated post (or hyper) moderns (and I’m not saying it is, I honestly don’t know), this creates a serious problem for Christian mission because much in the current formulation of postmodern mission hangs on the belief that people long for and relate to story better than data.

But, Aviv’s remarks made me realize that it’s one thing to indulge in story (clearly we are a culture that is obsessed with narratives of alternative realities) – but it is another thing entirely to have faith in a story, especially a fantastical one.

(Seriously. We poke fun at people who organize their entire lives around fantastical stories, and for good reason. We recognize there is something juvenile about this. Think of “Trekkies.” More and more, the secular Western world looks at conservative Christianity as one giant version of Comicon. Yes, I know – these sorts of sub-cultural communities are hugely successful and lucrative. But is that really what we want to emulate? Is Christianity just another successful juvenile fantasy niche market?)

As Christian leaders and missionaries, do we realize that “growing up” necessarily involves the process of calling simplistic narratives into question? Furthermore, to what extent are we seriously interrogating our own use of story to convey the gospel in a way that is true in a mature sense?

For example, some of the tension between Christianity and culture boils down to the Christian community’s insistence on holding to an immature understanding of biblical stories. We often use these narratives to communicate immature simplicity, societal preservation, and individual confinement, when the same stories can be used to communicate mature complexity, societal possibilities, and personal freedom. The creation story is the most obvious example.

So, when Jesus said to have “faith like a child” did he really mean we ought to shut our eyes and cover our ears the way children do when they don’t want to deal with difficult or unpleasant things?

Or did he mean something else?

Technorati Tags: Child Evangelism Fellowship, creation, Harpers Magazine, Myth, Story, Truth

I have come that they may kick ass, and kick ass to the full

Today, a little post-Christendom juxtaposition. Some of us are desperately trying to regain the seat of cultural power, and one way of doing so is by appealing to cheap American populism.

Case in point: Bryan Fischer of the American Family Association is disturbed by a trend in the awarding of the Medal of Honor, as exemplified recently by Obama’s awarding Army Sgt. Salvatore Giunta the Medal of Honor for saving a fellow soldier’s life.

Fischer commends Salvatore’s actions, but then laments that we aren’t rewarding soldiers for killing too (HT: American Jesus):

But I have noticed a disturbing trend in the awarding of these medals, which few others seem to have recognized.

We have feminized the Medal of Honor.

According to Bill McGurn of the Wall Street Journal, every Medal of Honor awarded during these two conflicts has been awarded for saving life. Not one has been awarded for inflicting casualties on the enemy. Not one.

So the question is this: when are we going to start awarding the Medal of Honor once again for soldiers who kill people and break things so our families can sleep safely at night?”

(I’ll set aside for a moment the observation that, with these comments, Fischer has managed to besmirch both femininity and masculinity – which, I have to admit, requires savant-like talent.)

The military exists to kill the enemy. If you have no problem with that, then you should have no problem with Fischer’s remarks. It’s only an issue because the AFA is a Christian interest group. Taking some heat from fellow Christians, Fischer followed up with a theological defense of his remarks:

“Christianity is not a religion of pacifism. Remember that John the Baptist did not tell the soldiers who came to him to lay down their arms, even when they asked him directly, “what shall we do?” (Luke 3:14).

War is certainly a terrible thing, and should only be waged for the highest and most just of causes. But if the cause is just, then there is great honor in achieving military success, success which should be celebrated and rewarded.

The bottom line here is that the God of the Bible clearly honors those who show valor and gallantry in waging aggressive war in a just cause against the enemies of freedom, even while inflicting massive casualties in the process. What I’m saying is that it’s time we started imitating God’s example again.”

This is typical of the Modern Christian-American narrative: God is on our side, and is glorified by the American military when they inflict large-scale casualties on the enemy – be they Brits, Germans, Japanese, Afghans, Iraqis…whoever.

We’re not the only one’s who believe it. Everyone believes God (or righteousness) is on their side. We believe it. America’s enemies believe it. Strangely enough, sports teams and athletes believe it. Businesses believe it. Churches believe it. And we all use this excuse to justify actions of aggression that hurt, suppress, exploit, defeat, or even, too often, kill those who are in competition with us.

Then we give medals and awards for it.

Interestingly, Andrew Sullivan of The Atlantic Weekly posted this snippet of a Greg Boyd sermon today, which addresses this very issue:

“When you pick up the sword you lay down the cross.” Indeed. Let’s face it: God isn’t our God. Power is our God. Power guised as safety, security, prosperity, peace, family values, law and order, righteousness and morality, or evangelism and church growth.

But the cross has nothing to do with asserting power, it has to do with abdicating power. The cross is where the supremely powerful God of the cosmos abdicated power and thereby made the powers powerless. That’s precisely what makes it a scandal, an offense, and a stumbling block.

There’s a bumper sticker that quips, “I’m pretty sure when Jesus said ‘Love your enemies’ he meant don’t kill them.” My sentiments exactly.

But hey, that’s just me.

Technorati Tags: Bryan Fischer, Greg Boyd, Medal of Honor, Pacifism, War

Meet Charlie: from homeless to helping others

“I was tired of living under a tree.”

That’s the response you’ll get from Charlie if you ask how he first connected with Interfaith. He’s reluctant to go into details. What comes across is not so much embarrassment as a profound sense of humility; Charlie just doesn’t think his story is anything special.

An Army veteran, Charlie spent most of his adult life addicted to drugs and alcohol after returning from Vietnam, and over the years he weathered more than a few storms on the streets of Escondido. That is, until five years ago when someone told him Interfaith had programs for veterans. On that day, Charlie decided he wanted help.

Like everyone who comes to Interfaith, Charlie’s case workers took the time to find out exactly what his needs and skills were, and used this information to determined what kind of assistance would serve him best. These assessments are a vital part of the case management process because whether the problem is addiction, disability, mental illness, lack of food, or lack of housing, the goal isn’t merely provide relief – the goals is to build sustainability. Unlike many agencies, Interfaith can walk someone through a comprehensive continuum of care services that will enable them to eventually live truly healthy and sustainable lives one day.

Initially, Charlie became a resident of Interfaith’s Veteran’s bunk house where he was provided with the immediate shelter he had been lacking for so long. Eventually, however, he was identified as an excellent candidate for Interfaith’s Fairweather Lodge program. Charlie agreed and he became the third Lodge’s first resident. Now Charlie lives within an intentional community of adults with similar challenges who operate their own business together.

Charlie is quick to point out that this job gives him a sense of purpose and accomplishment that he had been missing in his life for a very long time. Perhaps most significantly, like many people who have come off the streets and learned to live healthier lives, Charlie’s biggest desire is to give back, so he’s eager to start helping out as soon as he’s eligible, saying, “Interfaith has given me so much.” There’s a gratitude in Charlie’s words, driving him to contribute, and a sense of pride that he actually can.

I’m telling Charlie’s story because it isn’t uncommon. Interfaith’s family tree is crowded with people who spent years living on the street, struggling with addiction, or marginalized physically and financially due to physical or mental disabilities, but who have now learned to be healthy, productive, self-sustaining, and even strong enough to give back to the community in some way.  I know the same is true for other social service agencies as well.

Unfortunately, we live in a time when people are hurting more than ever (last year alone Interfaith served 35,800 individuals), yet the political climate in America is again rapidly becoming hostile toward social help under the mantra that helping people is actually hurting our communities.

Balderdash.

People need more help, not less. Granted, it needs to be the right kind of help; the kind that builds capacity, not co-dependence. True help must walk people through a process that leads to healthy sustainability. But that kind of holisitc, capacity-building, wellness-producing work requires more time, more services, and more money – not less. It requires public money and private money. It requires federal and state grants, private foundation support, and individual household contributions. It requires lots and lots of people rolling up their sleeves and helping those who cannot yet help themselves (last year we utilized over 5,000 volunteers).

Like it or not, we all pay one way or another for people who are poor, homeless, mentally ill, or otherwise debilitated in some way. Why not commit, as a nation, to do so ethically? We can build strong systems of care that eventually lead people like Charlie to contribute to their communities, rather than relegate them to the streets – or to jail – where they simply tax our communities.

In short, the creation of a strong and healthy community requires the participation of the whole community; the rich, the poor, everyone.  Everyone has something to give.

Charlie gets that. I look forward to the day when everyone else does too.

Technorati Tags: Charlie, economy, Escondido, Homelessness, Interfaith Community Services, Politics, poverty

This is my burrito, broken for you

One of the things I love about forming new relationships is recognizing that moment when I’ve entered into the cycle of gifts with someone, because that is when grace begins to grow. This happened for me recently at work with the ladies at the front desk.

I’ll explain in a minute, but first, a quick word about grace and gifts.

Grace, you see, isn’t an abstraction. Rather, it’s born by the corpus of a gift. This, in my opinion, is a critical point to understand, because like most things theological, we have a tendency to abstract grace into oblivion.

Pastors of a certain persuasion tend to describe grace as the ultimate Get Out of Jail Hell Free Card; so cosmically magnanimous that the impulse to sin withers. In a word, for them, grace is freedom.  I think there’s truth to this, but it’s mostly overstated and largely unhelpful on a practical level. Worse, this freedom is often made into a badge that, ironically, excludes and vilifies others.

Pastors of another persuasion often describe grace as a divine ability, given for the transformation of self and others. In a word, grace is power. While I think there’s truth to this as well, it’s often given to a level of theatrical absurdity (“these aren’t the droids you’re looking for”) I just can’t stomach anymore and prone to a level of abuse that none should tolerate.

I’ve come to the conclusion that grace is far more ordinary. I think grace is a gift. I know, I know… everybody thinks that. Unfortunately, we’ve even made that concept abstract to the point of  obliteration (If you think grace being a gift simply means it’s free then you don’t understand how gifts worked in archaic societies – or modern societies for that matter). So perhaps it would be more helpful to say that gifts are grace. I mean that quite literally: every gift is grace.

Like my breakfast burrito.

This particular form of grace came to me this morning, but its genesis began a few weeks ago. I had moved into a new office at the front of the building, where two hard-nosed, battle-tested women run the font desk like a special forces commando unit. I needed to build a good relationship with them, so I gave them a gift.

I told them the story of my daughter driving her Volvo station wagon through our garage door that morning.

That was my gift. I told them the story, and told it well. I used hand gestures and rolled my eyes, and made them laugh and gave them surprise. Telling stories is a gift I have – literally the corpus of a grace given to me – and therefore it’s a gift I have to give. When I give it, grace is passed and grows in the giving.

Since that day, we say hello and good morning. They ask about my daughter and I ask about their families. In this way, grace grows through small, ordinary gifts until it’s too big to contain, so more giving is required.

That’s how my burrito came about. This morning one of the ladies stopped at my desk and asked, “I’m going to get a breakfast burrito, you want one?” My eyes grew wide, “Yes please.” Grace is always given as a gift and it always returns as a gift, you just can’t control when or how. For me, this morning, it came in a burrito.

Now, there is freedom in this gift. Power too. A great deal of both, in fact. But more importantly – and this is what we radically miss in popular theological imaginaries – there is breakfast. That is, there is a form of grace (it’s love, really, isn’t it?) that I can take and eat and remember, that will sustain me now and in the future, by the flesh and by the spirit. If, as creatures of matter, we cannot conceive of how a breakfast can and must be the logical and spiritual outcome of the gospel of grace then our theologies have failed us.

So now I’m eating grace. Actually, my friend and I both are. We’re sharing a communion of potatoes and peppers wrapped with eggs and bacon and cheese inside a warm tortilla. As usual, it’s more than I need.

I guess I’ll have to give some away.

Technorati Tags: Burritos, gifts, Grace

Announcing the 2010 Micah Film Festival

Some of you know that last year folks from Ikon put together a weekend film festival of documentaries here in Oceanside, CA. Well, It was so much fun, we decided to do it again.

For the 2010 Micah Film Festival we’ve found three incredible documentary films to screen this year – one about Christian and Muslim fundamentalism, one about emergency medical work in conflict areas of the world, and one about autism -  along with some amazing non-profit organizations to spotlight.

Check it out:

The Micah Film Festival spotlights excellent documentary films that celebrate justice, mercy, and humility and also serves as a forum for connecting people with non-profit organizations who are making a difference locally and globally.

Our mission is to help restore the human spirit through art and advocacy.

Over the course of one weekend we will screen three award-winning documentaries that compellingly represent the spirit of Justice, Mercy, and Humility. After each screening we’ll have post-screening Q&A sessions and panel discussions about the important topics addressed by the films. Click here to learn more about the 2010 film selections.

We’ll also use the weekend to spotlight several local non-profits that are working working toward these values around the world, and we’ll use proceeds from your ticket purchase to raise money for these amazing organizations. Click here to learn more about our featured non-profits this year!

If you are going to be in SoCal the weekend of Nov 19-21, please consider coming. Your ticket purchase goes toward some great causes, and I promise you’ll be inspired by the films and the post-screening discussions we host.

I’d also like to ask you to help us spread the word. If you’re on facebook or Twitter, please help spread the word.  If you have a blog, please post about it or link to us. We have lots of tickets to sell and every little bit helps!

Thank everyone – hope to see you there!

Technorati Tags: Autism The Musical, CA, Holy Wars, Ikon Community, Living In Emergency, Micah Film Festival, Oceanside

Cultural reality check: Sara Bareilles

The churches I attended growing up regularly engaged with pop culture  – in a condemning way. Pastors often read rock-and-roll lyrics from the pulpit as evidence of the  “satanic” influence of the world.  Back then we still thought we were in charge.

As an adult I’ve enjoyed engaging with culture from the perspective of a missionary. That is, borrowing from the anthropologist, I enjoy trying to understanding this strange culture into which I’ve been called. When I quote here from pop songs, films, and literature, that is the perspective I tend to represent. Most of you know this already, but one thing is painfully obvious:

We’re no longer in charge (and it’s a good thing, too).

Case in point: Sarah Bareilles’ recent song King of Anything. Using thinly veiled evangelical catch-words and images, the lyrics portray the response of a woman who is triumphantly bitter about being evangelized. That kind of expression simply wouldn’t be tolerated in Christendom.

If you haven’t heard it already, I’ve embedded the lyrics and video below. Listen for yourself. Then, post your thoughts. What can we learn from Sarah’s song? How should we respond?

Keep drinking coffee, stare me down across the table
While I look outside
So many things I’d say if only I were able
But I just keep quiet and count the cars that pass by

You’ve got opinions, man
We’re all entitled to ‘em, but I never asked
So let me thank you for your time, and try not to waste anymore of mine
And get out of here fast

I hate to break it to you babe, but I’m not drowning
There’s no one here to save

Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be?
Who died and made you king of anything?

You sound so innocent, all full of good intent
Swear you know best
But you expect me to jump up on board with you
And ride off into your delusional sunset

I’m not the one who’s lost with no direction
But you’ll never see

You’re so busy making maps with my name on them in all caps
You got the talking down, just not the listening

And who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be?
Who died and made you king of anything?

All my life I’ve tried to make everybody happy
While I just hurt and hide
Waiting for someone to tell me it’s my turn to decide

Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be?
Who died and made you king of anything?

Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be?
Who died and made you king of anything?

Let me hold your crown, babe

Technorati Tags: Culture, Evangelism, Missiology, Music, Pop Culture, Sarah Bareilles

3 questions about Jesus: JR Woodward

My friend JR Woodward is the last to tackle our 3 Questions About Jesus: Who is Jesus the Christ? What has he done? And why does it matter? (Previous installments: Jason Coker | Jesse Schroeder | Cari Jenkins | Jason Clark | Ben Sternke | JR Rozko | Amy Rozko | Steve Burnhope | Jason Evans | Daniel So | Bryan Dormaier | Sean Campbell).

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I was driving in Columbus, Ohio, when I came upon a hitchhiker who alternated between holding his thumb out and clasping his hands together as if he were praying. I picked him up.

His name was Mike, and I soon discovered he was a hard-core Aryan, pointing to a passage in scripture about being “a chosen people” as the reason for his convictions. I asked if he would be willing to reread the passage in context. He agreed.

As I reached in the back seat to grab my Bible he pulled a gun and pointed it at my head. I assured him I was just getting my Bible, so he put his gun away, and my heart started to beat again.

I realized Mike had no place to stay that night, so I invited him to stay with me.

“You mean you would trust me to stay with you after pulling a gun on you?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, “because God has given me a love for you that I can’t explain, and He loves you.” Tears welled in Mike’s eyes.

We talked until 4 a.m. and I told him about the Jesus the apostles wrote about, this Jesus who had become my hero, my savior and my example. I told him how Jesus was the liberator of those oppressed, the lover of those rejected, and the deliverer of those seduced by consumerism. He cried most of the night.

Later that week he took me to a Chinese restaurant and continued to inquire about Jesus.  I told him how Jesus lived his life for the sake of others, how he died so we could live, and how he rose again to show what God was going to do for the world.

Something in Mike changed that evening; he understood in a profound way who Jesus was and what he had done for him and the world. When I left Columbus, Mike’s heart wanted to share with his Aryan friends what he had learned, hoping they would let go of their racism and be part of a community that included people from every race, tongue, tribe and nation.

As I reflect on his story, I’m reminded that Jesus invites each one of us to partner with Him in the renewal of all things. And if Jesus can turn a racist into a lover of all, there is hope for everyone.

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JR Woodward is the co-founder of Kairos Los Angeles, a network of churches in the LA area.  He is also co-founder of the Ecclesia Network, a relational network of missional churches, and the co-founder of the Solis Foundation which gives micro grants to help start small businesses in Lodwar, Kenya.  He is finishing his Masters of Art in Global Leadership at Fuller Theological Seminary and he compiled and contributed to the book ViralHope.  You can learn more about him at (jrwoodward.com).  You will find him blogging at (jrwoodward.net) and tweeting @dreamawakener.

Technorati Tags: 3 Questions About Jesus, JR Woodward

James Smith roughs up Brett McCracken a bit for lacking a theology of culture

There’s a reason James K.A. Smith (right) is a rising star in the Christian intellectual world: Aside from being brilliant – which isn’t all that noteworthy in academia – he’s an immensely effective and even entertaining communicator – a quality that is frustratingly rare in academia. Smith brandishes these gifts ferociously in recent books like Desiring the Kingdom and Thinking in Tongues.

It hardly seems fair, then, when Smith turns his critical attention to populist fare like Hipster Christianity by Brett McCracken, concluding he “lacks a theology of culture.” It’s nothing less than brutal.

I link to it, and quote from it, here because the mindless bashing of Christian movements en masse that continues to flow from from the conservative evangelical camp has swelled to such a ridiculous volume that it nearly deserves it’s own niche publishing category. I think Smith does a fine job of calling McCracken out for his lack of depth and thoughtfulness.

That Smith has at least one foot solidly in the Reformed camp makes his critique all the more refreshing. Here are my favorite parts:

While McCracken’s analysis perhaps pertains to a bunch of suburban kids who have adopted hipster as a style—just as they might have adopted “urban” as a style—his analysis doesn’t even touch those students I know who, from Christian convictions, have intentionally pursued a lifestyle that rejects the bourgeois consumerism of mass, commercialized culture. They shop at Goodwill and Salvation Army because they have concerns about the injustice of the mass-market clothing industry, because they believe recycling is good stewardship of God’s creation, and frankly, because they’re relatively poor. They’re relatively poor because they’re pursuing work that is meaningful and just and creative and won’t eat them alive, and such work, although not lucrative, gives them time to spend on the things that really matter: community, friendship, service, and creative collaboration. And despite McCracken’s misguided claims about autonomy and independence (192-193), the Christian hipsters I know are actually willing to sacrifice the American sacred cow of privacy and independence, living in intentional communities as families and singles, working through all the difficulties and blessings of “life together” as Bonhoeffer describes it. In short, the lives of the Christian hipsters I know are a gazillion miles away from being worried about image or trendiness; they live the way they do because they are pursuing the good life characterized by well-ordered culture-making that is just and conducive to flourishing—and this requires resisting the mass-produced, mass-marketed, and mass-consumed banalities of the corporate ladder, the suburban veneer of so-called success, as well as the irresponsibility of perpetual adolescence that characterizes so many twentysomethings who imagine life as one big frat house.

And:

The Christian hipsters I know are pursuing a way of life that they (rightly) believe better jives with the picture of flourishing sketched in the biblical visions of the coming kingdom. They have simply discovered a bigger gospel: they have come to appreciate that the good news is an announcement with implications not only for individual souls but also for the very shape of social institutions and creational flourishing.

Also:

If McCracken is lamenting the fact that Christian colleges are producing alumni that are smart and discerning with good taste and deep passions about justice, then we’re happy to live with his ire. The fact that young evangelicals, when immersed in a thoughtful liberal arts education, turn out to value what really matters and look critically on the way of life that has been extolled to them in both mass media and mass Christian media—well, we’ll wear that as a badge of honor.

And last, but not least:

It turns out [McCracken is] just worried that young Christians might be (gasp!) smoking and drinking a bit too much and have not sufficiently considered injunctions about dress in 1 Peter 3. Well, yes, indeed: those do seem like quite pressing matters for Christian witness in our postsecular world. By all means, let’s get our personal pieties in line. For as McCracken sums it up, “the Christian hipster lifestyle has become far too accommodating and accepting of sin” (200)—and by this, he means a pretty standard litany of evangelical taboos (did I mention sex?). It’s funny: my Christian hipster friends think conservative evangelicals have also become too accommodating and accepting of sin, but they tend to have a different inventory in mind—things like the Christian endorsement of torture and wars of aggression, evangelical energies devoted to policies of fiscal selfishness, and lifestyles of persistent, banal greed.

Emphasis most definitely added.

Technorati Tags: Brett McCracken, Culture, Hipster Christianity, James K.A. Smith, Theology

3 Questions about Jesus: Sean Campbell

We have a couple of late addition to our 3 Questions About Jesus series. This week, my good friend Sean Campbell tackles the questions, Who is Jesus the Christ? What has he done? And why does it matter? (Previous installments: Jason Coker | Jesse Schroeder | Cari Jenkins | Jason Clark | Ben Sternke | JR Rozko | Amy Rozko | Steve Burnhope | Jason Evans | Daniel So | Bryan Dormaier).

_______________________________________________________________________

After losing what seemed like the same argument again and again, my wife finally clued me in. She had probably been telling me for a while, but I tend not to pick up on these things quickly. She said that behind every difficulty we’ve ever had, she always wanted to know that I still loved her, or, rather, that she was still lovable.

God gives us relationships as metaphors to better understand how he relates to us and how we can relate to him. One clear metaphor he gave us was that of husband and wife. Jesus came that we might know not only that we are lovable, but, also, that we are desperately loved.

What’s more, when my wife handed me this epiphany, I was offended. (And this is the risk God takes when giving us relationships as metaphor. They’re nearly always flawed.) I actually wondered how my wife could suspect me of not loving her; I tell her I love her multiple times every day and I always have. How could she have such a warped picture of me? But as I reflected on this, I realized that this assurance is a deep need of hers and it is also an important part of the metaphor.

Jesus came not only to demonstrate the Father’s love for us, but also to defend his character. You see, God also wonders how we could have such a warped picture of him. We all do. And this is why he sent his son, to daily tell us he love us, that we’re still lovable, and he hopes, that as he remains faithful in this, we might begin to correct our image of him and see him for who he is. This is what Jesus accomplished.

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Sean is software engineer for a startup in Carlsbad, California. He is married with four children.

Technorati Tags: 3 Questions About Jesus, Sean Campbell

Why do homeless people piss us off?

This is a bit of a re-post from an older blog, but news today brought it back to mind: Attacks on homeless will be hate crimes in Florida:

The slaying of the homeless veteran, Daniel Case, on Florida’s west coast is an example of that brutality. Two street gang members were charged with wielding a baseball bat and golf club to beat him while he slept in a lawn chair behind a Bradenton business.

Nearly two years ago I sent out an e-mail to Twoshirts members inviting people to join our efforts to collect food and clothing for homeless teens in Oceanside, Ca, I received this response from a (now former) member:

“they can get jobs like most normal people!! dont send me your bull**** !!!”

Why all the anger?

According to the National Coalition for the Homeless, violence against homeless people are on the rise nationally, and this story in the Detroit News from back then covers the murder of a homeless man by two young teenage boys who were allegedly involved. The motive remains a mystery, and in all fairness, we presume their innocence until they’re proven otherwise.

Still, there were a couple of quotes in the article that struck me. One of the boys mothers believes her son is innocent, partly because, in her words:

“We were homeless once,” Hazard said. “We don’t have much, but I raised him and my other children to respect others. I was a working mother and taught them morals and to be honest.”

I’m sure she did, but perhaps her son saw a bit of himself in the homeless man. Often our anger towards others is rooted in self-rejection and shame. When people represent the worst of us, or by their very presence seem to confirm our greatest fears, we can lash out in anger.

Or perhaps the motive is even more banal. At the time, Michael Stoops, executive director of the Washington, D.C.-based National Coalition for the Homeless, said,

“We think crimes against the homeless should be classified as a hate crime…People feel it is safe to hate and attack the homeless.

Michael Stoops touches on a deep-seated human reality: we often repress the evil inside of us until we have a safe, anonymous target. Whether we like to admit it or not, we all have that inside of us. Wherever the anger and hate comes from, the poor and homeless are practically relegated to the category of non-human in cultures of affluence like ours, and are particularly vulnerable to all manner of attacks, abuses, and crimes.

My wife Jenell and I have been particularly challenged by Jesus’ words: ” Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back” (Luke 6:30), and of course, John the Baptist’s words, “The man with two tunics should share with him who has none, and the one who has food should do the same” (Luke 3:11). We’ve tried to live these words out in concrete ways. What are some ways you’ve been challenged on this issue?

If you’re looking for ways to help or get involved, check out the Homelessness Resource Center. Or, check out Interfaith Community Services here in North County San Diego and, better yet, get involved by volunteering or even becoming a facebook fan and helping to spread the word.

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