faith

To those I consider co-laborers:

It is four in the morning, and I have kept watch. I have kept watch after another day of disappointment and grief over sin of which has nothing to do with me and everything to do with me.

It has been a difficult year. The Christian witness in this country has been undermined from within and without. People who have never cared what Christians have to say are now eager to condemn our silence and malpractice. People who speak the loudest for Christians bring condemnation unto us.

It has been a long year. It has seemed like a century, and this young century feels longer still.

It is a long wait for Jesus. It feels as though evil is pursuing new ways to extend our experience of time, knowing that the kingdom is at hand, closer in this moment than the last.

I do not think what we’re doing is sustainable.

I am moved this morning to write to you, dear sisters and brothers, who feel as though this church is not yours: What we are doing is not sustainable.

We have spent years railing against false teachers and false doctrine. We have spent years as outsiders waiting and pushing for a time of correction. We have seen the wrong leaders with megaphones, and we have sought to shout them down, to turn the tide, to claim the ground for truth. There is a franticness that has no recourse but cynicism. A striving that has no end but disappointment.

We keep waiting for the future, for our future.

But while we feel as though we are looking toward the future, and while our activity is consumed with the present, I am convinced that in reality we are stuck in the past. I think God is way ahead of where we are right now. The present is the past.

So many of you are waiting for your turn, when we need to realize our turn is now. It’s happening right now. We feel like outsiders, but the ones we protest are running on fumes. They have made their decisions, and they have their reward. What are we building?

Let me be explicit: The hucksters do not represent Christ.

Let me be even more explicit: Roy Moore does not represent Christ.

And we need to stop treating them as if they do. We keep waiting for some magical moment when they will be unequivocally, ceremoniously dethroned while their throne rests on our backs. We say we’re queasy about identifying as evangelicals, or as Christians even, while they claim the same title, but our queasiness is ceding the territory to the very ideas we oppose.

So much has been building up in me over the last decade, as I’ve seen faith and politics and culture all intermingle from a number of different perspectives and positions. I’ve become more firmly convicted in all of this over just the last couple of years through individual and corporate prayer, discernment and analysis. But I felt it rush to me now when I saw this from Tyler Burns.

This is my conviction this morning:

Christianity belongs to no man. The church belongs to no man. It all belongs to Jesus. Some may have forgotten this, but let us never forget. Let us never forget that the way this world counts power and influence means nothing to our God. He will settle all accounts, we can be sure of that. This year, the story we have allowed to be told about us is what we are in reaction to the hucksters and the charlatans, but all the while we have been seeking to live a different story: who are we in relation to Christ? What are we building?

We have built so much this year as we live out our callings, as we pursue Jesus who is the standard-bearer of our faith.

I see what Jemar Tisby and Tyler Burns are building: a bold, Christ-centered Witness that is neither ashamed of the gospel, nor timid in the face of injustice.

I see what Michelle Higgins, Christina Edmondson and Ekemini Uwan are building as they generate new power through their work that is redirecting stagnant waters, and carving out new territory for Christ to work His will.

I see what Ann Voskamp is building as she stewards her influence to raise money for a radical, Preemptive Love. I saw her on a cold February morning protesting outside of a hotel where political leaders would gather to publicly pray while denying welcome to the stranger.

I see Sharon Hodde Miller and Tish Harrison Warren and Alan Noble and Duke Kwon and Scott Sauls and Sarah TheBarge and Ray Chang and Sho Baraka and Laura Turner and Trillia Newbell and Beth Moore and Charlie Dates and Wesley Hill and Matthew Loftus and Sarah Bessey and Russell Moore and Justin Giboney and on and on and on.

I see young Christians in politics who want to build their careers by faithfulness, not utilitarian power-grabbing.

I see seminary students who are pursuing sound doctrine and sound practice, who believe the gospel is for all of life and will preach a gospel that changes everything.

I see young Christians in “secular” fields who are neither arrogant because of their faith nor ashamed of it, but believe in living a life of integrated integrity in light of the security they find in Christ.

I see COGICs and Catholics and Baptists and Quakers and Anglicans and Presbyterians—Christians pursuing God rooted in many different expressions—all like streams of living water, nourishing the ground for a new harvest.

I do not name people here as exceptions—that is to miss the very point. I would encourage you to share the stories of brothers and sisters you see that are building, but this is most useful when it points to the One they’re building for. That you or I know or recognize someone does not vindicate their work. What a gift it is to be introduced to someone new! This, of course, requires that they were unknown to us prior to that very moment. And there are many who labor in obscurity who are no less integral to the body.

We act as if we must wrest control of the witness of the church from those who are getting the attention, but the work of the church belongs to Jesus and all that does not belong to Him stands no chance against Him.

The main challenge that faces us is not the hucksters, but ourselves. Our own sin. Our own pride. Our own specific tastes. Can we root each other on even in our diversity? Can we support one another though there may be areas where we disagree? The main challenge we face in our accentuated diversity is the recognition that we are all part of one body in Christ. What weapon formed against us will prosper if we grab hold of that truth, if that love for Christ and one another is embedded in our hearts?

I do not recognize the name on the hucksters’ lips, this name they use of obfuscation and self-protection, this alibi for sin and degradation, this tactic for maintaining self-serving power. They are running on fumes. I do not recognize the name on their lips.

We must condemn what must be condemned. We must repent for what requires repentance. But we must not spend our present days in reaction to their transparent distortions. The world has done a fine job recognizing those things. Is our primary task to point to them?

Of course not.

Let us proclaim Christ in our time, now. We do not need to wait for more influence, we can build right now. We are building. We have built.

While we have breath in our lungs, let us point to Jesus. Christian leaders, even the best of them, have never been worth anyone’s ultimate trust, devotion or faith. There is only One who is always faithful. He is ever worthy to be praised.

President Obama's Greatest Act of Hope

Mandel Ngan/AFP/Getty Images

Mandel Ngan/AFP/Getty Images

For more on President Obama's legacy, particularly on issues of faith, check out Reclaiming Hope: Lessons Learned in the Obama White House About the Future of Faith in America.

           We were reminded last month of the stark, unvarnished evil that visited Mother Emanuel Church in Charleston, South Carolina in the Summer of 2015. In the sentencing phase of Dylann Roof’s trial, we learned that six weeks after his arrest he wrote in his journal: “I do not regret what I did. I am not sorry. I have not shed a tear for the innocent people I killed. I do feel sorry for the innocent white children forced to live in this sick county. I do feel sorry for the innocent white people that are killed daily at the hands of the lower races. I have shed a tear of self-pity for myself.” He was given the death penalty, which indicates our society’s judgment that he committed an act so profoundly evil, Roof himself was irredeemable. 

            Many have been lulled into thinking racism is no longer operative in American society because when racist actions are made public, they are almost always accompanied by expressions of shame and contrition. And while these expressions of shame often function as a misdirection, the very existence of shame about these matters represents progress in the story of our nation. So to witness evil absent shame as in Roof’s statement is shocks us, rattling our bones. We shudder at the human heart’s capacity for hate, self-deception and sin.

            It was into this encounter with evil that President Obama--his presidency then more burdened with racial division and controversy than ever—had to speak. The eulogy he delivered at the service for the Charleston Nine was, in its creativity and potential offensiveness, a singular moment in American history

            I was not shocked to hear President Obama quote scripture or even sing a hymn. I had worked in the White House for President Obama, where I helped him and his Administration navigate religious issues and work with the faith community. I also led religious affairs for his re-election campaign and second inauguration. I’ve attended church with him dozens of times, worked on speeches he delivered to faith audiences and at churches, and prayed with him. And while, according to polls, many Americans do not know or even misidentify his religion, I was not surprised to hear him quote from the New Testament or invoke broad religious themes. But how he spoke of God in Charleston, while familiar to the Old Testament Prophets and those in church pews every Sunday, was almost entirely unprecedented for any modern political leader--especially the leader of the free world.

            After “giving all honor and praise to God,” Obama opened with a theological claim: “The bible calls us to hope,” he said. “To persevere, and have faith in things not seen.” He spoke of State Senator Reverend Clement Pinckney, noting that he was “often asked why he chose to be a pastor and a public servant.” The president, who had been accused in his previous campaign of leading a “war on religion,” responded to the question not just for Pinckney, but for himself: “As our brothers and sisters in the AME church know, we don't make those distinctions. ‘Our calling,’ Clem once said, ‘is not just within the walls of the congregation, but…the life and community in which our congregation resides.”

            The President went on to recognize the unique, irreplaceable role of the church as a “foundation stone” in the story of America, and the “center of African-American life.” It was in the church, a place of God’s creation, where the dignity of African-Americans was “inviolate.”

            This, he argued, was what “the killer” meant to attack. Roof’s actions were not just an attack on a race, but on a people who believed in a God who created all people equal, all in His Image. The killer was attacking people who dared to believe in a God of justice who chose sides in the argument of whether there was a “lesser race,” in a God was and is with those who were slain. The killer thought he could overturn God’s judgment on the question, that his murderous act would “incite fear and recrimination; violence and suspicion.” 

            “Oh, but God works in mysterious ways,” the president proclaimed. “God has different ideas. He didn’t know he was being used by God.”

            These might be the most audacious lines of presidential oratory to have ever been uttered. And in this century, only Barack Obama could have said them. Only Barack Obama, the first African-American president, baptized in the black church, could have made the claim that God might use the deaths of nine black citizens for His glory and the nation’s good.

             Imagine for a moment if George W. Bush had wondered aloud if God might be working in the midst of Hurricane Katrina. The partisan mockery would have been relentless. Accusations that he was using “God talk” to distract people from his mismanagement of the crisis would have boomed. Or consider when Prime Minister Theresa May said in response to a question that she prayed when faced with important decisions, and some in the British press were so offended you might have thought she had prayed the UK into a theocracy. The idea that God should or could have anything to do with human affairs is increasingly an absurd offence in politics. 

            There has been and will be much discussion about hope and Barack Obama’s presidency. His 2008 campaign claimed hope as its mantle. Over the course of his presidency, the idea of hope became distorted and conflated with this or that policy victory. At times, it seemed as though the “moral arc of the universe” depended on every executive order, every vote, every press release from Senator McConnell’s office. This false conception of hope fits comfortably in our politics, because it is contained by politics. A hope in political machinations will always lead to disappointment.

            But in the face of the evil visited upon Emmanuel Church, President Obama offered a different kind of hope. The killer, “blinded by hate,” could not fathom what Pinckney “so well understood—the power of God’s grace.” Out of this terrible tragedy, these senseless murders, God was providing a grace to allow us to “find our best selves.”

            The president went on to explore what it might look like for America to “prove itself worthy” of the grace God offered. He suggested the removal of the Confederate Flag from the South Carolina statehouse would be an appropriate and worthy response. “But I don’t think God wants us to stop there,” Obama said, and proceeded to urge Americans to use the opportunity of grace to consider how we might address the injustices of racial bias and discrimination, poverty, inequalities in education and gun violence. People of goodwill would disagree about the solutions, but surely we could act, he urged. This hope, this grace, was not grounded in politics, but certainly it could find expression there if we allowed it.

            Obama told the congregation he was learning the proper response to grace was an open mind and an open heart, open to receive what God was offering. He quoted the popular American novelist--a devout, white, protestant Christian--Marilynne Robinson, who defined grace as “that reservoir of goodness, beyond, and of another kind, that we are able to do each other in the ordinary cause of things.” 

            Hope is often reduced to a nicety, a way of wishing and a distraction from the important work of struggle and material improvement. But as the South African theologian Allan Boesak wrote, “the poor and the powerless cannot ever let go of hope; that luxury is for the rich and powerful.”

            Hope is about acknowledging and acting on what is most real at the precise moment it is most unbelievable.

            Hope is the expression of forgiveness in the presence of your loved ones’ murderer. Hope is the foolishness of the Commander-in-Chief and leader of the free world speaking of God’s mysterious ways. Hope is a mourning congregation’s affirmation of racial equality and shared human dignity while seated in front of the casket of a black man slain by an avowed white supremacist. Hope is a song of amazing grace in front of the casket of an innocent.

            The unrepentant killer of the Charleston Nine walked into their meeting place like Judas, profited from their fellowship with a kiss on the cheek, and betrayed them with no just cause. The words of his journal should remind us of the reality of evil. But as President Obama boldly asserted, they should also point to the reality of God’s grace, even today. The choice is still ours as to how we will respond.