“Christ’s life is a demand. You don’t want to be reminded of it. So we don’t have to see what happens to the truth. A darker time is coming - when men will be more clever. They won’t fight the truth, they’ll just ignore it. I paint their comfortable Christ, with a halo over his head. How can I show what I haven’t lived? Someday I might have the courage to venture, not yet. Someday I’ll - I’ll paint the true Christ.”
“The church confesses that it has coveted security, tranquility, peace, property, and honor to which it had no claim, and therefore has not bridled human covetousness, but promoted it.”
Christ’s life is a demand. It’s a demand that we be crucified with Him.
I don’t think that demand is rooted in success as believers.
This truth rubs against the reality of Christ’s work on the cross. He won, is winning, and will win in the end. I hold fast to this victory.
Yet, the truth of His triumph has certain implications for our humanness. This tension illustrates the challenges the church faces in relation to national interests, politics, and practical application.
So, what do I mean by being called to failure?
For one, we live in a fallen world. We are going to sin. We are human. It's going to happen. We should not actively pursue sin, but it is there, and inevitably, we slip up. Sometimes, it's intentional, and sometimes, we're completely oblivious.
We should confess. There is grace.
Secondly, there is no promise that we will succeed in the terms of the world. We are not called to succeed in those terms. It may happen for some. Yet, for others, it is a life of toil.
We are called to hear and to do (Leviticus 18:5, 30; Deuteronomy 27:10; Nehemiah 9:29; Ezekiel 20:11, 33:31; Matthew 7:24-27; Luke 8:21; Romans 2:13-15).
Hear the word. Do the word.
Our culture tends to be picky about execution and rejects the application almost entirely. We apply only what we feel necessary.
Be faithful to what is in front of you. That's my motto. That's what I try to do each day. It takes me down a lot of paths I wouldn't usually venture.
Bonhoeffer’s words shine a light on this idea as well.
“You shall not covet.” (Exodus 20:17)
Traditionally, we view covetousness strictly as something we desire that a person owns that isn’t ours. Yet, he takes it a step further. Do you covet a world that is not our own? Do you covet peace? Do you covet tranquility? Do you covet security? Success?
Rather than finding contentment in a relationship with a perfect God, we covet a perfect world from imperfect, broken people.
Do we covet the ways we wish the people around us would act rather than letting them be where they are? I am not advocating apathy but rather a sober look at reality. I am advocating a change in our expectations of the people around us.
When we live in light of His triumph, we know where to go to find our needs. The fulfillment of those needs may not come in the way we expect. Yet, He is sufficient, and our recognition of this sufficiency is paramount.
I'm a perceptive person. I can be a good listener when I want to be.
Yet, over the last few years, I've made many mistakes in engaging differing perspectives. One of my more significant flaws is a need to be correct. This need fuels my insatiable desire to learn, but I rarely stop there. I can weaponize that learning.
I'm not necessarily ashamed of that. Sometimes, learning requires mistakes.
There may not be an intellectual or public arena that is not touched by division in this present moment. Politics infuse many interactions. People find themselves in camps or lost in the wilderness. Despite what many people have said about me, I don't feel I have a real home anymore.
It no longer bothers me that this is the case. It used to bother me quite a bit that people assumed things about me. However, that is out of my control.
I've had quite a few conversations around politics, the role of the church, and personal responsibility. I don't know why these conversations follow me. Sometimes, I'm actively trying to avoid them, but they continue to pop up.
Amid the constant flow of information, I'm finding that there really is only one way to thoughtfully engage divisive topics and ideas, particularly in religious circles. This also holds true in most public spheres.
What is it?
Follow the pain.
Our typical response opposes this idea. We try to spar with a partner by using facts, outside sources, controversial media, opinions, conspiracies, and information from our side.
Yet, we never really investigate what fuels the use of these materials or ideologies. We simply turn to our frustrations. It's easier to do that than to stop and follow the pain of another.
I'm not suggesting you literally ask, "What pain is driving your thought process here?" Though, that is not an entirely bad idea. Instead, you should not defend your side.
You should ask questions. Get to know the person you're talking with in the disagreement.
We rarely enter a conversation with a mindset of "Wow, I really hope this person changes my deeply held belief!"
So, why do we expect that to happen when we fumble through a discussion? That's not really how change happens, anyway.
We know this, but we don't operationalize it.
I see this most often in churches. Tensions are high in congregations, and many people feel the need to defend their politics, to gloat or defend.
This behavior is not fruitful.
We should not lean on the trappings of empire for security. Yet, many of us do not know how to live otherwise. A sense of solace comes from certainty, from believing in humanity's promises. Some of those promises may even claim to bring a level of security. They may claim and even do more than that in practicality. But what is their fuel? Where do they drive people?
This is at the heart of our modern problem.
We must learn and embrace that without moral character, we lack the integrity needed to be effective.
Integrity starts with being willing to listen. Listening brings trust, which should not be abused or manipulated but tenderly nurtured.
Change happens over time, and mutual understanding will arise by embracing one another's pain. Our pain brings us closer together and helps us recognize that we are not alone.
We must foster understanding. Follow the pain. Hear the word. Do the word.