Justice

It was one of the go-to camp choruses not too many years ago when “contemporary” meant that you had put the words of a biblical text to a tune that was easy to sing. The text in this particular case was Micah 6:8 – “He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (NIV)

Fast forward a few centuries and the Epistle of James seems to reflect that Christians don’t always live up to “what the Lord requires” of us. “Look! The wages you failed to pay the workmen who mowed your fields are crying out against you. The cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord Almighty. You have lived on earth in luxury and self-indulgence. You have fattened yourselves in the day of slaughter. You have condemned and murdered innocent men, who were not opposing you.” (James 5:4,5, NIV)

At whatever level it might be appropriate to place these two texts beside each other, there seems to be some reason to think that failing to pay fair wages and living in luxury and self-indulgence are contradictory to the prophetic call “to act justly.”  To live in that way is akin to fattening an animal in preparation for the day of slaughter. Like the animal who doesn’t likely think about what will happen when it is “fat enough to slaughter,” is it possible that the alluring nature of things so enthralls us that we become unconscious of our failure “to act justly?”

We are often quick to be critical of pastors and religious leaders who get too close to politicians and find themselves unable to speak too plainly about justice. But what about the church that often gets too close the corporate board room and depends too heavily on the financial support that we can’t speak too plainly about justice? Or to the average believer who, in his or her pursuit of stuff, finds it difficult to be too critical of the values of the company who makes the things I desperately want to have?

Just to think a moment about what James is saying – what makes a company “just?” A million questions can easily come to mind here? What are fair wages? What is the right level of return on investment risked? When do I know the return has become “luxury and self-indulgence?” Does a generous charitable contribution alleviate the potential of exorbitant rates of return? If I’m leading a mission trip is it ok to charge a little extra to those going so I don’t have to pay for my own trip, though I could? Is it “just” to hoard billions rather than create new opportunities for people called jobs, when I’m not sure about how the federal government will regulate those jobs?

There is definitely a flip-side to those questions as well. How is it “just” for my hard earned salary to be taken away and given to someone who doesn’t work? If I am going to take what I have worked hard for and saved over the years and invest it, isn’t it “just” that I get a great return on my investment because of the risk I’m willing to take? If I can afford an iPad but you can’t adequately take care of your family, is it “just” if I go ahead and get it? I can afford to send my kids to a very prestigious private school, but you can’t and live in a neighborhood with a very poor public school system, is it “just” for me to send my kids to get great educations while your kids are stuck in a dead-end school system?

If I had the answer to these kinds of questions, I would probably be struggling with whether or not it was “just” for me to live in the fine Caribbean home I built from the proceeds of my book!

For thoughtful  followers of Jesus, life will be spent struggling with questions like these. It surely is a part of what is involved in “denying self, taking up our cross, and following Jesus.”  How that idea intersects with daily living – where we are called upon to “walk worthy of our calling” (Eph. 4:1) – will take a life time of thinking, and perhaps then some.

But if the church is to have a valid prophetic voice in the modern culture in which we live – it must be courageous enough to speak with clarity about justice. But before we can do that, we must take Micah seriously and commit ourselves “to acting justly.”

Don't Bend

By now he has spent somewhere in the neighborhood of four years in prison. He wasn’t in jail for “high crimes and misdemeanors,” but for little more than allowing himself to be entrapped by religious leaders looking for an opportunity to rid themselves of one who had once been a hero but now was viewed as a traitor.

Oddly, when he was their hero, it was okay for him to go out arresting people who believed in Jesus as Messiah and at least approving of, if not inflicting the death penalty. But once he became a believer, then some manufactured sense of disrespect to the Law and Temple had landed him in jail.  It’s a funny thing how easily religious people can be swayed when it comes to right and wrong by our sense of who is on our side and who isn’t. 

Four years is a long time to be in jail for what at best can be described as petty, trumped up charges. Certainly those four years have served to confirm for Paul that our trust can’t be in government – the Romans haven’t been overly helpful so far; and our trust can’t be in individuals who are a bit presumptuous about their standing with God – that’s what landed him in jail.

To the believers at Philippi Paul is writing to people who, like was true for him, were citizens of the Roman Empire.  It surely isn’t by accident that at the end of chapter three, Paul reminds them “but our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” (3:20, NRSV) And then, in the same literary context in 4:1, he tells them, “stand firm in the Lord in this way.” 

It appears that for every believer, regardless of the cultural circumstances in which he or she may be found, there is this inherent conflict between the Christian gospel and the culture in which we live.  When I think about Paul’s circumstances – religious people had put him in jail and Roman officials have kept him in jail – it isn’t hard to realize just how clearly he would have understood the reality of standing firm when it comes to knowing where our trust must be placed.

The world will corrupt us – at least that is how Paul views things (3:17-19) thus we must, without hesitation, remind ourselves that our citizenship is in heaven – and from heaven we anticipate in confident assurance the coming of our Savior. Thus the Jewish officials who manipulated the Roman officials to arrest him are, when all is said and done, irrelevant. In that picture, only the Savior has the final word on our lives. If Paul can “stand firm” on that in view of his life story at the moment, where does that leave you and me?

In that context, Paul says, “don’t bend.” I find nothing in Paul’s writings to make me think I should pretend like the world doesn’t exist or that I am not called by God to bring about renewal and restoration.  But neither do I find a word that makes me think my future is somehow wrapped up in my worldly citizenship. 

The Christian gospel is not a “the sky is falling, the sky is falling” way of viewing the world. Rather it is a “a Savior is coming who will redeem the universe” way of viewing the world. When it comes to that kind of gospel, Paul’s word to the Philippians is “don’t bend!”

That’s not a bad way of looking at life – especially from the vantage point of one who understands how religion focused on self not God always fails and how government can never do what God has called His people to do. 

The sky can’t fall – from there we await a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. Until that day, He calls us to be salt and light to a world ever tasteless and dark.

Playing it Safe or Taking a Risk

After speaking at a men's retreat in another state several years ago, a very kingdom oriented gentleman came up to me after the sermon and asked if we could talk. Of course I said yes, but my mind quickly rehearsed what I thought I had said in the sermon, hoping that I could figure out what I had said that he wanted to talk about. I guess my therapist would suggest that I had gone into defense mode.

Actually it was a heartbreaking conversation. He told me that the area in which he lived had the highest percentage in his state when it came to the problem of unwed mothers. That reality greatly disturbed him, and he believed that the church should be on the forefront of responding in a Christ-like manner to these single mothers – most without an education, and many without a family structure to help them. 

He was a member of a church with adequate resources to be the church that led the way, and had worked with the leadership of that congregation to lead. He wanted to build a facility that could house these mothers and their newborns, provide some sort of job training opportunity, and help the mothers learn how to adequately take care of their children. He saw the project as an opportunity of ministry and evangelism – in that order. (He evidently took the Epistle of James seriously.)

In the end, after lots of research, dozens of meetings, and all the other planning activities that were required, the church leadership decided that they shouldn’t do the project. Their reasoning, he said, was that if they did that, it might give people the impression that they condoned the activity that led these young girls to become pregnant. 

They chose to play it safe.

As Tim Keller says in his newest book, Center Church, “Both the Bible and church history show us that it is possible to hold all the correct individual biblical doctrines and yet functionally lose our grasp on the gospel.” 

The last thing one could say about Jesus is that He typically chooses to play it safe. The story we are told in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John says nothing if it doesn’t picture Him as always ready to take a risk. Think about it. When he preaches in the synagogues, they want to push Him over a cliff (Luke 4). When He heralds the gospel of the Kingdom, the most religious of the religious reject Him (Luke 16). Even when He heals people, there are those who want to destroy Him (Luke 6). But He doesn’t quite preaching, heralding, and healing!

The truth is that stories from His life like those mentioned above are repeated over and over in all four gospels. And when we read The Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles of the New Testament, we see that His earliest followers apparently took that risk-taking approach to life as a model for their own.

One of the things I like best about working at Point University is that we are willing to take some risks when it comes to the question of admissions.  We could choose to play it safe and only admit Sammy Sunday School and his best friend Betsy Bible Reader. If we did that, life for staff and faculty would probably be easier; and of courses the Sanctimonious Simons who are always quick to point out failings would need to look for new targets in their critiques. 

But if we did that, I wouldn’t have all those stories of kids who came to school here for less than stellar reasons, who somehow ended up deeply committed believers who want to renew and restore the world. Sometimes I go to bed with my head spinning, trying to think how we can help some kid who doesn’t get it yet; and sometimes worried about the kid who left Point without getting it. What slows the spinning is that I can always thank God for the kids who did get it – at least in part because Point doesn’t play it safe when it comes to admissions policies.

Of course I’m aware that some students we admit never get it and that while they are students, they do some things that neither I nor Point approve. That obviously doesn’t mean we condone such behavior and rather than ripping the admissions committee for admitting them, I find my own heart broken that somehow we missed the opportunity. One thing I know without question is that if they don’t get it here, they won’t likely get it where they go back to.

No doubt about the fact that Jesus was a risk taker. If more of us who claim to follow Him would let His life be our model, we might actually change the world – to the ends of the ages (Matthew 28) and the ends of the earth (Acts 1).

Close to the Heart of God

Once you have read the opening paragraph of the Gospel according to John, it is hard to forget the majestic way in which we are introduced to Jesus of Nazareth. Listen with me to what we are told:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. (1:1-4, NRSV)

John then tells us a little about John the baptizer – who saw in the “Word that was in the beginning, and with God and was God” the “true light” that was coming into the world. Later, in this same first chapter, we would hear John the prophet proclaiming a message of repentance throughout Judea declare, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” (1:29)

You see this “Word” would become flesh and live among us for a while – showing us what God is like, what God created humans to be, and offering himself in sacrifice for our sins.

Of this reality, the Gospel of John would remind us “No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.” (1:18)

I’m especially drawn to that phrase “who is close to the father’s heart.” A very literal translation would sound something like “who is in the bosom of the Father.” John’s word was used in his world “to denote the closet possible relationship” and was often used in the context of meals. It was also used by Luke to describe the eternal destiny of the poor man in the story of the Rich Man and Lazarus, who upon death, went “to the bosom of Abraham.”

Fast forward about three years or so, and Jesus is with His disciples in the upper room in Jerusalem, just hours before His betrayal, arrest, and crucifixion. John begins to tell that story in John 13, but oddly enough doesn’t mention what all three of the Synoptic Gospels mention – the institution of the Lord’s Supper. But there is little doubt that somewhere in the narrative of John 13, the Lord’s Supper was celebrated with His disciples.

The word nerd in me noticed not long ago that in describing the events of that evening, we are told by the narrator that “One of his disciples – the one whom Jesus loved – was reclining next to him.” (13:23) You can’t see this at all in English translations like the NRSV, but the truth is that John uses the very same word to describe this relationship with Jesus, as he uses in chapter one to describe Jesus’ relationship to the Father. This disciple, likely John himself, is “reclining on the bosom of Jesus.”

As Ben Witherington suggests, “the suggestion is that the Beloved Disciple stands in an analogous relationship to Jesus as Jesus has with the Father. In other words, the gospel is the personal and eyewitness testimony of one who was close to the heart of Jesus.” (Making a Meal of It, 84)

What if – just thinking here – that in our moments of “reclining around the Lord’s Table,” we thought more about the idea that in ways not that dissimilar to the Son’s relationship to the Father, in our relationship to God through Jesus, we rest “on the bosom of Jesus.” Just wondering.

A Good Friend

Early on Monday morning, August 27, just as I was beginning a time of worship and devotions for the Point University staff, I learned that my good friend and former colleague at what was then Atlanta Christian College, Don Jeanes,  had died suddenly.  I’m still trying to process that news – no one I know would say that it wasn’t shocking.

Don and I worked together at ACC for about eight years, before we both left the full-time employment at ACC to work in churches. He moved to Johnson City where he was on the staff at First Christian Church and I became the minister at First Christian Church of College Park.  Much of the time we worked together he was vice president for administration and I was dean of students – and of course we both taught in the classroom. Those were challenging days at ACC and Don worked overtime in making ends meet and I tried to make sure I did my part in keeping the ends in the realm of possibility when it came to meeting.  We both served together on a board for ministers in Georgia and Florida that focused on affordable health insurance. That wasn’t any easier at that time than it is now!

In the summer of 1983, we went from seeing each other nearly every day, eating in each other’s homes and going out to eat together, to seeing each other occasionally. We sometimes would meet in Atlanta for breakfast or in Johnson City. We often saw each other at the North American Christian Convention and a time or two at an event connected with Christian Missionary Fellowship. 

As a child, I suspect I would have defined friend as someone close by who will come over and play. As an adult I’ve come to understand that friendship isn’t about proximity as much as it is about common ideals, common faith, common commitment. Don never failed to ask about my wife and children – even my parents and Vicki’s parents. Our conversations easily picked up where they last ended – no matter the time that had slipped by between them.

Oddly, or providentially (and providence can be odd, so perhaps both) my devotion for the Point staff that Monday morning was based on 1 Thessalonians 5:14, where Paul encourages us “to admonish the unruly, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, and be patient with all.”

When I think about Don’s life, from the time I first met him in the summer of 1976 to the last conversation I had with him, I think those words from Paul are apt descriptions of his life. Don was very good at admonishing those who saw life and ministry as an opportunity to be lazy and still get a paycheck. He was a great encourager for those who were down and out, troubled, and fearful. I could tell countless stories of how he helped people struggling to get the Jesus story integrated into their own lives. He was intense about life – but that intensity was shaped by a patient willingness to help anyone and everyone get to the next step.

The death of a friend hits us in ways that that can be a challenge. When we lose family members, other believers are quick to offer a helping hand. Sometimes we don’t do so well when other believers lose friends. But the water out of which we are born into Christ and create friendships marked by the common faith we have in Christ is sometimes thicker than blood!

To call yourself a friend of Don Jeanes means that you are standing in a long line of people who know that their circle of friendship has been lessened today because he no longer walks among us. But equally true, to call yourself a friend of Don Jeanes means that you understand the outcome of faith is always victory over the world and there is a sense of sober celebration in knowing Don’s victory.

Don lived a life where, because of his faith in Christ, he admonished the unruly, encouraged the fainthearted, helped the weak, and was patient with all. I’m grateful that I was among his circle of friends and experienced his gift for ministry.

Creators or Participants

In his great little book, Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer says “Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realize, it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate.” (page 30)

When I read those words, my first instinct is to remind myself that I should see what I do as participating in what God is actually doing rather than to see myself as creating what God would like to create. That idea alone could help us greatly with the important distinction between “God’s will for my life,” which can easily become a bit self-serving; and “God’s will for God’s life,” which will always focus on what He desires, not what I desire.

Interestingly, when Peter, speaking on behalf of the other disciples declared “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God,,” (doing so in perhaps the most pagan region Jesus ever visited) Jesus responded by saying “upon this rock I will build my church” not “that’s great Peter, you can build a great church with that idea.” (Matthew 16:13ff)

While attempting to help the Corinthian believers understand the difference in creators and participants, Paul declares, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God was causing the growth. So then neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but God who causes the growth. . . For we are God’s fellow workers; you are God’s field, God’s building.” (1 Corinthians 3:6-9)

The “historic reality” is, of course, that Paul is the missionary who was brave enough to attempt to plant a church in Corinth. But if those words quoted above reflect his understanding of that process, the “theological reality” was that he was a participant in what God was doing, not the creator of the church in Corinth.

Somewhere in all of this it seems to be fairly clear – though not always easily accepted – that by our participation in the work of God – being kingdom people doing kingdom things – we become His fellow workers in advancing the kingdom all over the world. Like Paul as one who planted and Apollos as one who watered, we are partners with God in the growth that He wills for His kingdom. That will, of course, is best expressed in Scripture by Peter, who declares, that God is “not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.” (2 Peter 3:9)

Seeing ourselves as creators is far beyond any of our pay grades! Seeing ourselves as participants immediately reminds us that it isn’t a pay grade at stake, but the marvelous grace of God who is willing to allow us to be His fellow workers.

A prime example – at least it seems to me – of how this might work differently is our current cultural confusion, debate, and obfuscation about marriage. So many are attempting to “create” what a marriage actually is. That is happening on both sides of the debate. One side quotes Scripture, as read from their vantage point; the other side quotes Scripture from a seemingly contradictory vantage point.  That is nearly inevitable when humans see themselves as creators!

But I wonder what the discussion would be like if believers saw marriage as something God created that we participate in? And that in our participation, we modeled an approach to marriage that not only honored God but made the biblical ideal of marriage appear to be the only reasonable and attractive approach to the subject?

In the gospels, a life-long commitment to marriage seems to be discussed in the context of discipleship. In other words, a faithful marriage is one of the ways we model our commitment to “the rock” upon which the church is built. But that is hard to imagine in a world where the divorce rates, abuse rates, etc., among Christians aren’t statistically different from the rest of culture. Little wonder so many in our culture aren’t all that interested in seeing us as “creators” of the definition of marriage.

But what if we did participate as disciples of Jesus when it comes to marriage? Would our culture be attracted to Christ in ways we don’t see right now? Instead of seeing us as old fashioned and a bit out-of-touch, would they see us as having something important to say, and model?

I don’t know about you, but I’m relieved to know that I’m a participant, not a creator. Or, to re-quote Bonhoeffer, I am called to “a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate.”