As It Is In Heaven

"In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, for I have overcome the world." John 16:33

A few dear friends and more than a few dear strangers have been hit by hard grief this week. 

Grief is never easy, and there is never a time where we want deal with sorrow. But if we must, maybe the week of Easter is the best we can hope for. Because on Easter we are reminded that the God who created the heavens and the earth also walks beside us in our pain. He is not distant, he is not indifferent; he waits with us in the darkness for he has seen the darkness himself.

But the story does not end there. For in Christ, there is victory. The power of death put up a fight and was conquered, so that it never has the final say again. Those who hope in Christ do not hope in vain because he has walked before us and cleared the way so that we might one day arrive with him forever.

One very frustrating thing about Christianity is that whole "love thy enemy" thing. There's a lot of talk right from people in the church about politics, from both sides of the aisle. I hear friends, who identify with all different candidates and parties, say things like "I don't know how anyone could support so and so," or "[Name of candidate] is an awful person and here is why..." 

I'm guilty of it, too. Don't get me wrong. I'm preaching to myself as much as anyone else. But you know what? If Jesus were standing here today, he'd probably say something infuriating like "Pray for your enemies." You know what that means? It means that those people who we think are idiots for voting for whomever--maybe we should view them through the eyes of God as fellow members of humanity created in his image. Simply put: if we are going to call ourselves Christians and be serious about it, then there is a level of anger and stress over politics that is simply inappropriate. Not everyone who disagrees with you is an idiot, a bigot, a right-wing nut job or a commie hippie. At least, no more than you are in the eyes of another. And that candidate you hate so much? Maybe you're allowing the actions of another have too much control over your heart and your mind. And if we can't bring ourselves to pray for those people--first of all, good for us for being better than everyone else. But at least, maybe we should pray for cooler heads and more gracious hearts so that we don't find ourselves thinking in ways that diminish the image of God in us and prevent us from seeing the image of God in others.

We all know what you think of Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, Ted Cruz, and Bernie Sanders. There is literally nothing new to add to that discussion. We get it. Let's talk about something else and find more edifying ways to spend our thoughts and conversations.

I get it. This election is huge. It's "important" and "historic" and "pivotal" and a bunch of other big, meaningful words. But for we who are Christian, all of this talk makes me wonder, just who or what are we placing our faith in? I mean, at the end of this election, do you know who will still be Lord? And, while I have your attention, remind me which of these candidates created the world and then died and rose again to save it?  Was Christ not king before the American Revolution?  And I can almost hear someone chiming in, "Yeah Joel, but [name of literally any candidate]'s policies fly in the face of the Bible!! They espouse things Christ wouldn't condone!!" Hey guess what, Hypothetical Person Who Is Arguing With Me? They all do. Every single one of them believes or espouses things that Christ spoke against. No one is completely in Jesus’ pocket, and Jesus sure as heck isn’t in anyone else’s. 

Incidentally, there are probably some of Christ’s teachings that you’ve got to square yourself with as well. I know I do

So now what? Maybe all of us who have faith in Jesus should vote our conscience, and in the meantime talk and act like we believe anything he said about loving our enemies, praying for those who persecute us, taking care of those in need, and being joyful people while we do it. It would sure change the shape of the world in your vicinity. 

A lengthy review of Risen.

“‘You are seed already cast...’” a blind woman says the risen Yeshua told her, “You are too late.” Our protagonist, a Roman tribune named Clavius, sighs with the dreadful realization that the situation is already out of hand. This was one of the most poignant moments in the movie Risen, starring Joseph Fiennes and directed by Kevin Reynolds. It tells the story of Easter through the eyes of a Roman soldier who is charged with investigating the disappearance of the corpse of a crucified Hebrew religious leader named Yeshua.

Spoiler alert: Yeshua has risen from the dead.

This is without question the best treatment of a Biblical narrative that I have ever seen on film. I say this for a couple of reasons.

First, unlike The Passion of the Christ, which dwells almost fetishistically for two hours on the brutality of Jesus’ execution and then gives one minute and twenty-one seconds to his resurrection, Risen begins in media res, Jesus having just died before we get to him. We see him hanging from the cross lifeless, and watch as the criminals on either side of him are finished off, but none of it dwells any longer than needed to make the point that yes, the Romans knew how to kill someone. The main story here is what comes after. I would argue that is true of the Christian faith as well.

Next, unlike The Son of God, which basically translates literally many key scenes from the Gospels, but does very little to connect them organically, Risen, gives us plenty of story that rings a bell, but gives it a better sense of time and place in the narrative. It is not just, “Jesus did this. And then Jesus was in Galilee. And then Jesus said that.” It flows and it feels like something is actually happening.

Now then. Onto the story.

In what could have been a preachy film that browbeat non-believers, Risen actually takes an approach of grace towards the skeptic. We are brought through the narrative over the shoulder of Clavius, a Roman soldier, whose job it is is to arrange for the guard of the tomb of Yeshua and who must then investigate his disappearance. He is world-weary, tired of fighting religious peasants, and longs for Rome, where he can advance through the ranks and retire with peace after a lifetime of war.

By making him our avatar in the story, we are asked to treat the stories with the same level of skepticism that a man in his position would have had. We are not really asked to believe the reports, though we might or might not at least believe the sincerity with which various eyewitnesses make their claims.

You have to wonder who would make such claims with nothing to gain from believing them, as they each firmly assert that Yeshua is not interested in taking on Rome. Clavius is affected, perhaps not by the credulity of the stories, but by the people who so ardently tell them.

It is not giving much away to say that when he encounters Jesus the first time, he still is not sure what he has seen, to say nothing of what the implications are now that he has seen it. From that moment on, we are treated to several familiar moments in the Easter narrative.  Clavius looks on, struggling to keep up as things unfold around him, and with the knowledge that whatever else is is true, the one thing he cannot doubt is that it is beyond his control.

What is happening now was set in motion before the Yeshua was executed. “You are seed already scattered,” Yeshua tells a blind woman. This thing began long before Clavius was even paying attention. The time to stop it has long come and gone. It will only take root and grow.

Great care is given not to treat Clavius’ skepticism as unwarranted or even wrong. He is not familiar with who Yeshua is, so he has no reason to accept the claims of his resurrection. Even when he encounters the risen Yeshua, he is not moved to unyielding faith, but to even more conflicted doubt. But he is invited along for the journey, however reluctantly, by the remaining disciples, and what happens from there is really the point of this movie.

A few key moments struck me more than others. At one point early on, as Clavius begins to struggle with his task, he approaches a temple to Mars, his preferred deity, and then prays to Yahweh. He asks Yahweh for proof if he is indeed Lord, and vows to fight wars and hold games in his honor if he reveals himself with signs and wonders. He leaves gold on the altar and goes about his way. The reason I like this so much is that it shows how many of us approach prayer; even believers have a sense that prayer is a means of quid pro quo where we ask God for something in exchange for some gift to him. But what have we to offer to the God who raises the dead?

Later, Clavius comes to a point where he confesses, “I do not know what to even ask for,” at which he is told simply to speak his heart. There is no simpler an explanation of prayer than that.

We also see the honesty with which the disciples struggle with their own belief. One disciple is brought in for questioning and answers with glee that Jesus has been raised, and when threatened with crucifixion, he offers himself up willingly, with the apparent belief that it will be easy. Clavius points out that the disciple has indeed never seen a crucifixion because he was hiding when his leader was executed, and levels his naive enthusiasm with a horrific and sobering description of what crucifixion involves.

The disciple’s exuberance is tempered, and we realize that while it is easy to say we would die for our beliefs, maybe it is only because we say it from a place of safety, and we should perhaps just get on with the believing part, lest we trivialize the suffering of those who actually face death for their faith.

We are shown an exchange between Clavius and Peter, in which Peter confesses that he is not sure what everything means, where it is leading, or what the disciples are to do now. All they really have for the moment is to follow, and let it take them where it will. One can be certain of the one thing, and still not have any other answers. That’s okay. Certainty may only come in stages, and even then, it may only light the ground directly before us. We are not called to be wise and knowing, we are only called to be faithful and follow.

But the best moment is one where Jesus performs a miracle. It is a well-known one, at least in broad strokes, although it is one of the few moments where the movie takes liberty with the narrative and places this miracle in a different part of the story. And while we are told that the miracle is why his disciples followed him, even when they did not understand what he said, we get the sense that it was not even the miracle itself, but the compassion and love with which Jesus treats the person in need, embracing him when all others have left him abandoned. It is not so much that Jesus did amazing things, but for whom he did them. “There are no enemies here,” he says.

I won’t tell you how the story is concluded, other than to say that it does not end with a call to belief at the altar in the way many contemporary faith-based movies do. It recalls enough of the familiar for those who know the stories from the New Testament, with enough mystery and awe to convey that even those who saw it firsthand were unsure exactly what they witnessed or even where it would take them.

This is a late addition to the barrage of articles, essays, and lists about New Year's resolutions, but any of you who know me know that I have a tendency to overthink things. I reckon I did it again.

And what has been on my mind is what motivates people to make the resolutions that they make, and why it is so hard to keep them. One study I found showed that only 8% of people who make resolutions actually maintain them throughout the year.  A little more 30% of us have already broken our resolutions. By June, more than half will have dropped off. By 2017, 92% of us will have given up.

Google the information or even talk to people you know and you're likely to find a host of theories about why that is; they need to be specific, they need to be detailed, they need to be simple, they need to be realistic. And on and on and on.

Underneath it all, though, maybe the reason so many find it hard to maintain their resolutions is that so many people make resolutions that are self-centered. If you go back and look, 8 of the 10 most common resolutions that people make are in some way related to making one's own life better.

Not that there is anything wrong with any of them. It is a good and noble thing to want to be a healthier, more joyful, more thrifty person. But these are all resolutions about the self, and as such, they are only as doable as one's ability to achieve them on his or her own.

It is as though we are all building monuments to ourselves and our achievements. We are constantly chipping away, sanding, honing, molding ourselves into an ideal, into something we think we ought to be or wish that we were. But if I make a monument to myself, it can only be as tall as I can reach, and it will never come off the ground.

What if instead, I resolved to be a better neighbor? What if my goal was to be more helpful to those in need, no matter how great or small? What if I set my sights on being a better son, a better brother, a better friend, a better employee, a better stranger, and a better enemy? What if instead of resolving to improve my own life, I resolved to make the world better for someone else?

What if, instead of living my life as a monument to Me, I set to living my life as a monument to family and friendship, to community and fellowship, to kindness and justice and truth?

What if we all resolved to take seriously what Jesus said about loving our neighbors and looking after the least of those among us? What if we listened to Paul's urging to look not only to our own interests, but also to the interests of others?

Because let's face it: if we are only living as monuments to ourselves, then at the end of the day, all we will have are little statues stuck on the earth, barely reaching up into the sky. 

Since none of us, myself included, will likely be checking this page on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, I am going to wrap this up today. It shouldn't take long.

The fourth Sunday of Advent is Peace. I want to turn your attention to Mark chapter 4, picking up in verse 35. It's a familiar story, but let's hit the broad strokes. 

Jesus has just gotten through teaching to a large crowd and has gotten into a boat with his disciples to call it quits for the day. While on their way across the sea, a storm rises up and begins to toss the boat in the waves. Jesus, exhausted from the day's work, is asleep in the stern, and his disciples panic and wake him. "Don't you care that we are perishing?" they ask. So Jesus wakes up, rebukes the wind and the sea, saying, "Peace, be still." And there was calm.

His disciples understandably freak out and wonder just who is on the boat with them.

Like all great stories, the details are what bring it together, and what the details here say about Christ and the Peace that he brings is no different. Even though Jesus is on the boat, a storm still comes. The waters still rise. The waves still crash and the boat still trembles in the sea. The presence of Christ does not mean that the disciples will face no danger. In fact, when you continue reading their stories, it is clear that even being acquainted with Jesus of Nazareth is guaranteed to get you into trouble.

"WAKE UP!! DON'T YOU CARE THAT WE ARE PERISHING?!" the disciples say. And we do, too. I can imagine Jesus waking up and thinking to himself:

"Of course I care. After all, I am on the boat with you."

If there is one thing we forget in all of our fear and all of our doubt and all of our cynicism about God, it's that God came to be with us. When we are rocked in the sea, when we are battered by storms, when we face certain doom, we must not forget that Christ is not far away on some other shore. He is there in the boat with us.

And when we call upon him, he will calm the wind and the waves.

Now, even after he rebukes the wind, the disciples are still on a boat out at sea. They aren't magically transported to a safe place. They are still in a place where there could be danger. There could be another storm. The difference is that they have now seen the power of the one who rides with them. And they know that should they call upon him, he will be there to rebuke the storm and bring them peace.

In John's account of the life of Jesus, Christ tells his disciples rather cryptically that he will give them peace, but not as the world gives. And he bids them not to let their hearts be troubles or afraid. 

Hold on, Jesus. Why are you telling us this? What is there to be troubled or afraid of?

It seems that Christ is granting that, even knowing him and his power, there is no promise of an easy life or a safe life or a life without hardship. But his presence will set his followers apart by the knowledge that they are accompanied by the living God as they walk through the dangers they face.

And we are too.

Which brings us to the Christ Candle. On the Advent wreath, this is the white candle in the middle, and it represents the birth and the presence of Jesus, the Christ, the Savior of humanity, in our midst. And while we rush through the holiday, it is easy to take this event for granted.

What Christ's presence means is that while there is yet sorrow in the world, we need not despair because Christ offers hope in his presence.

It means that even when we are surrounded by people who are our enemies, we have the power to change the world by choosing to love them in spite of ourselves.

It means that no matter how cynical and skeptical the world around us may be, we have a reason to choose a joyful heart.

It means that even as storms rise around us, we can rest in the peaceful assurance that the Savior of humanity weathers the storms alongside us.

Christmas is not a celebration of a time of year or a day on the calendar. It is a celebration of the arrival of the very presence of the divine, come to be with us. It is that event that makes this season what it is. And so as you finish that last minute shopping, as you travel across town or across the country, as you rush around with strangers and loved ones alike, take a minute to remember that underneath it all is a child in a manger who is our Savior, God with us.

As I've gotten older, this season has sort of lost a little bit of magic. The weight of responsibilities of adulthood, the drudgery of getting out into big crowds to shop, and the knowledge of the harsh realities in the world around me sort of dampen that child-like sense of wonder that comes around Christmas time. Occasionally I'll hear a song or experience a moment that takes me back, if only for a second, to a time when I was younger, and I'll pause to dwell in that whenever I can. But mostly, December can feel like another month.

To make it worse, so much of our pop culture these days is driven by cynicism and mockery, and it bleeds down into every day conversations. How many times have you heard someone go on a rant about how angry the commercialism of the season makes them? How many times do people talk about getting together with family who drive them crazy to exchanging gifts no one needs? Or the people who try to make clever (and incorrect) connections between pagan winter festivals and modern winter holidays like Christmas and Hanukkah, as if that (false) history lesson hasn't been told a million times over?*

We get it. We're edgy. We've hit cultural puberty and we don't trust anything and we want everyone in the world to know it, so let's all act like punk kids and talk about how much we hate everything about this season and how it's all a crock, and then everyone will know that we're cool, just like all those grumpy commentators and hilarious fake news people on TV.

Or how about we ignore our cynicism and believe in something? In his letter to the Philippian church, the apostle Paul talks a great deal about Joy, and maintaining it in the face of hardship. If you have never read the letter to the Philippians, you really should. It is fantastic--I digress.

One of my favorite riffs from this letter comes near the end, where Paul tells them not to be anxious, but instead to focus and reflect on "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."

It's a great practice to make a habit of. It's not always easy, but you may have noticed by now that the themes of Advent are not easy and none of them are contingent upon ideal circumstances. In fact, they each thrive best when things are at their worst. Hope is most meaningful when everything else is lost, Love can transform the most when it is shown between enemies, and Joy is most infectious when everyone around you is grumbling in misery.

Because for all the caustic wit and sarcastic jokes, for all the distrust of human nature and skepticism about religious belief, for all the outgrown wonder and sad adulthood, what has cynicism done to change the world?

Not a blessed thing.

When news of the birth of Jesus came to the Shepherds, Israel was in dire straits. And Shepherds were not wealthy men; their livelihood depended on the sheep. And yet, they left their flocks to and worship a newborn. There was something in the news of the birth of this child that gave cause for Joy. It was good news. And for just a few moments, everything else on their minds was cast aside so that they could go see what it looked like when God became Man.

This is not a season of Joy because we are oblivious to the things in the world that we can complain about. It is a season of Joy because, in spite of the things in the world that we can complain about, there is something even greater that we can celebrate. The God of creation, once thought remote and far off, has stepped onto the scene to dwell among His people. He has come to spend time with us, to help us when we stumble, to encourage us when we fail, and to challenge us to keep looking for the best within ourselves and each other even it would be easier to give up on the search altogether.

Yes, there is a lot to worry about in the world. But worry won't change it, so focus think on what is good and enriching and edifying.

Yes, there is rampant commercialism. So turn off the TV or leave the mall and go spend time with people who you enjoy.

Yes, we exchange gifts we don't need while other people around the world have a hard time making ends meet at best, and fear for their lives at worst. So go do something to help someone else.

Yes, religion can be a smokescreen for a lot of hypocrisy and judgment. So go be the kind of Joyful, Hopeful, Loving person who bucks the stereotype and shows people that Jesus' birth isn't irrelevant, that his life wasn't empty, that his death wasn't meaningless, and that his resurrection wasn't a fraud. Show the world by the way that you think and the way that you speak and the way that you live that this season means something precisely because there is so much wrong with the world and that you believe Christ's birth does something to change it.

That's where Joy begins. Not with ideal circumstances, not with waiting for the world to be right, but with deciding that despair and cynicism do not have your heart and living as a reflection not just of the image of God, but as a reflection of the knowledge of what God began on Christmas day.

Joy, like the rest, is a decision. If you want the world around you to be a little brighter, then decide it will be, and then see what happens.

Next week I will post some reflections on Peace as it is found in Christ. To get up to speed, start here with a primer on Advent, then go here to read about Hope. After you’re done there and are on your lunch break, there is a three-part series on Love, found here, here, and here.

 It is the third week of Advent, the season of anticipation and preparation for the birth of Jesus. On the third Sunday of Advent, a pink candle is traditionally lit to signify the Joy brought about by the birth of Christ. 

I’ll be posting a piece on Joy later this week, but if you’re interested in reading the story so far, here are the links to the past few weeks’ articles:

-God Is With Us is a sort of pre-advent primer, exploring what all it means that God came to walk the earth with his creation.

-Adventus Christus is a reflection on the theme of Hope and what it means to a broken world, then and now.

-Love Does Not “Win” is a three-part series on the nature of Love; how it is misused in our culture, the paradox that it creates, and how it is embodied by the life of Christ. 

Love Is Victorious.

This is the final part of a three-part series; you can read Part One here and Part Two here. This series is also part of a larger series on Advent, which you can catch up with by clicking here and here.

Love is an action that encompasses so much more than what a trite little phrase can convey. A phrase like “Love Wins” gives no baseline for what Love is, what love means, or even what it has won. People are confused about love without even knowing it, because we throw the word around so much that as an intellectual concept, it means almost nothing.

People love their parents. People love their children. People love their spouses. People love their friends. People love to travel. People love to sing. People love sushi. People love their car. People love this TV show. People love this set of curtains.

Maybe Love isn’t the right word sometimes.

Love is a paradox. It is an action that takes monumental, nearly God-like effort, but one that has the power to simplify our lives to the point of never having to justify ourselves to anyone. When loving others the way you love yourself is the standard by which you treat everyone, from your closes friends to your bitterest enemy, there is very little to explain. And even better, the more you demonstrate selfless, life-affirming Love to others, the more your perception of others will change.

Feeling follows action. That is why we must remember that when Love is used in Scripture, it is a verb and not a noun. Feelings have no power to change the world around them. Actions do.

Now. When I say that Love Does Not “Win,” I do not mean that Love is not victorious. But it takes a bit of deconstructing what Love means in order to understand how its victory is truly understood.

Love has a victory because of what we celebrate at Christmas. God, Creator of the world, saw a creation that had been so wrecked by its own defiance, its own selfishness, and its desires, that there was nothing left to do but to break into the world himself and reorder it from the inside out.

So he did.

He didn’t come with armies of angels from Heaven. He didn’t come as a conquering king. He didn’t come as a prophet. He didn’t come as the religious elite. All of the marks of winning on the world’s terms, he stepped around. He didn’t come for a political party. He didn’t come for anyone’s agenda.

He came to save us from the darkness that had blinded us to who we are. He came to rescue us from the powers that try and separate us from him. He came to reshape the hearts and minds of all humanity so that we could all be transformed into the likeness of God we were created for.

Sometimes that means giving up the thing that you think makes you who you are. Sometimes that means giving up on trying to change others and let God’s grace go to work.

Sometimes it means admitting that no one is actually right and that we have all made a great big mess of things.

It means that Love is victorious, but not because of earthly powers and human efforts and political movements. It is victorious because God invaded the world through Jesus of Nazareth, and set in motion the final battle against the powers of darkness, and landed the final blow through the resurrection.

It is the beginning of that battle plan that we celebrate at the manger. It is there that Love came to life, entered the world, and conquered evil once and for all.

Click here for Part One of this Article series, which is part of a larger series on Advent. To read the conclusion in Part Three, click here.

A Word About Love and Judgment.

We all like to think that we aren’t judgmental, but the fact is we make judgments every single day. Sometimes judgment is not even a bad thing. As an example, think of the person who is your best friend. One day, you met that person, and made a judgment that he or she was a good person, a person who you enjoyed spending time with, someone who you’d trust, and over time, those judgments helped you decide to pour more of yourself into that friendship. We all judge.

But we all also judge another way. Whether you want to admit it not, you are guilty of the kind of judgment that we all say we don’t do. I can prove it.

Think of a presidential candidate on the other side of the aisle from you, and their supporters. Think of that person at work who sucks up to the boss or who always seems to get the promotions. Think of the kid in class who is the gossip or the class clown.

Just now, you did not think thoughts that were honorable. You thought that that person was annoying or foolish or immoral or undeserving of their success, and so on.

You did not think to yourself, “That person is created in the image of God, just like me!”

And if someone were to point out that, to someone else, you might also be annoying or foolish or immoral or undeserving of your success, you would jump to your own defense with a list of reasons why that is not true.

Because judgment is easy. We can go there at the drop of a hat without thinking about it. But judgment is complicated. Because when we go down the road of appraising every single thing that another person does that we do not like, we end up having to justify and rationalize and defend the parts of our own lives that do not make sense or that contradict what we say or that

And we all have them.

We mock other political beliefs as foolish and uninformed, while we defend ours as well-thought and hard-earned. We roll our eyes when a someone we don’t like has success, and we got bothered if enough people do not cheers us on when we succeed. Other people’s idiosyncrasies are flaws, and we call our idiosyncrasies are “quirks.”

Do you follow? Judgment is easy, but it is complicated.

On other hand, Love is hard, but is is very simple.

Because to Love as we are called to Love involves a concerted effort to overcome the desire to be the best, the most loved, the most well-respected, the highest paid, the top of the class. This is not to say that aspiring to greatness is a bad thing, but when it comes at the expense of our ability to see the image of God in others, especially those who we do not like, then it has taken an inappropriate place in our lives.

Love costs. It requires effort. And worst of all, there is no promise or even hint that when you pour out Love on another, it will be honored, well-received, or even acknowledged. Love is like a balloon; once you let it go, you have no idea how high it will reach, how far it will travel, or where it will land. You can watch it if you like, but you can’t change it’s course and eventually it will be too far for you to see.

You wouldn’t watch a balloon for very long before you got on with your day.

Love is hard. But it is simple. Because when we start Loving others, deliberately and intentionally, then our minds are no longer preoccupied with justifying our internal contradictions. The underlying guilt of our hypocrisies crumble away. We are no longer bothered by the aggravating flaws of others. We don’t have to explain ourselves as much.

Now, sure. There will be people who see kindness to a stranger and think, “I wonder why he did that.” Someone may see you extend an invitation to the person no one likes and think “Why did she invite that jerk?”

But kindness, patience, gentleness, encouragement--these things are so much easier to answer for.

Love is hard, but the more we do it, the easier it gets. Because when our minds are constantly searching for ways to treat others the best way that we can, our minds will not have time--and eventually, the inclination--to search for anything else. And then we find ourselves looking at the world through the eyes of the Creator. Which is what he wanted from the very beginning, and what he came to earth to show us how to do.

We Love because we were Loved.

Advent is the first season of the Christian year, preparing the Church for the arrival of Jesus of Nazareth. In more traditional congregations, a wreath is set out with five candles: three purple or blue candles, one pink candle, and in the center, a white candle. In the four Sundays leading up to Christmas, the candles are lit in succession to represent Hope, Love, Joy, and Peace--and on Christmas Day, the white candle is lit to signify the arrival of Christ into the world. This week, we light the second purple candle of Love.

We’ve all seen the phrase, “Love wins.” It is on social media, it is on t-shirts, I believe it is even the title of a book. It’s a confusing phrase because the word Love has so many meanings in our language. Any time someone says it or posts it or wears it, I want to stop them and ask, “What exactly do you mean by the word, love?’”

It is probably common knowledge and even a little cliched that in the Greek language, there three words that we translate as Love. In fact, there are six. Each of them has a different meaning, and when you do a little research and compare those definitions to what people in our world today say about love, none of them really match the character what people today seem to mean when they say it.

When I hear people say “Love wins,” what they seem to mean is “Acceptance wins.” That troubles me, because it reduces love to one tiny aspect of a much larger picture. Love is not necessarily about acceptance. Love is not an open door. I mean, Love is certainly accepting, and Love does not close the door on anything, but that is because Love is something more than a set of nice adjectives or a thing that occurs in the world that we just get to sit and watch.

Love is not an event that happens and that we experience passively.

The most important thing we can understand about love when it is used in Scripture is that it is not an emotion. It is rarely, if ever, used in relation to feelings, affections, or attractions. Talking about love that way robs it of its power because it is effectively saying that love is dependent on emotional conditions that change given different circumstances. When you read about love in the New Testament, it does not have that character.

Love is not a force of nature that sweeps over the earth. It is a task that requires devotion and hard work. Love is not always pretty and it does not always feel good. A lot of times, I wonder if we’d really know Love when we saw it, because it is not as flashy and clean as people say.

Love, particularly the way it is talked about in the writings of John and Paul, is an action. It is a behavior that is chosen, not as a reflection of how one feels about another person, but as a command given by Christ, a distinct pattern of living that sets the followers of Christ apart from the rest of the world, a habit that places us in communion with our Creator.

That’s why I cringe when I hear people say “love wins.” Love is not a trump card that we use to defeat people who don’t agree with us. Love is not interested in winning because love does not keep a record of wrongs. Love does not win because love does not gloat when someone else loses. Love does not win because it does not insist on having its way. It does not twist people’s arms into doing things they do not want to do or going places they do not want to go.

Love is what we do when we are confronted with someone in need and we do all that we can with whatever we have to meet that need, and never breathe a word about what it cost us. Love sees the good even in those who have the power to harm you.  Love does not try to tell how someone is wrong, but instead shows them what is right.  Love does not condemn, and that is why love can ask for better. Love looks at the scorn and meets it with kindness. Love is in the dirt, suffering with the defeated. Love does not consider risk.

Love does not stand on the precipice and scream, “I won!” Love is on a cross, praying for its enemies.

Love does not “win.” Love sacrifices.

Part Two continues this discussion with the difference between Love and Judgment. 

Advent is the first season of the Christian year, preparing the Church for the arrival of Jesus of Nazareth. In more traditional congregations, a wreath is set out with five candles: three purple or blue candles, one pink candle, and in the center, a white candle. In the four Sundays leading up to Christmas, the candles are lit in succession to represent Hope, Love, Joy and Peace--and on Christmas Day, the white candle is lit to signify the arrival of Christ into the world. This week,, we light the purple candle of Hope.

As I reflect upon the past few weeks in the world, it seems trite to write about hope. Speaking of hope in a world that is in such turmoil and distress might seem to some like whistling past a graveyard. For people who are deeply and personally affected by tragedy, words of hope often seem weak and fruitless. And entering into Christmas with so much tangible heartache, there are probably many who at this time wonder what there is to hope for.

The problem with Christmas today is that we tend to only focus on the celebratory aspects of it; we buy gifts, we sing songs, we visit with family, we have a grand time. And that’s great. But in all of that celebrating, we forget that the birth of Jesus is the beginning of God’s plan to infiltrate a broken world and begin the rescue of a defeated people. It is important that we remember that the birth of Jesus did not take place in a vacuum. Here’s a little backstory.

At this point in the history of Israel, it has been some 400 years since a prophet has delivered the word of God to the people. In that time, Israel has gone from exile in Babylon, rule under Persia, and then to puppet state in the Roman Empire. Locally, they have some measure of autonomy, but they are largely marginalized and no longer a sovereign nation.

It is not a time of celebration. It is a time of hardship, uncertainty, cynicism, and doubt.

It is into this world that God chooses to cross the divide between eternity and history. It is into this world that Jesus is born--not to a wealthy family with status and opportunity and power in the golden age of a nation--but a lowly family from the rural part of an outskirt nation, during a time of great unrest and upheaval. In a crowded village of hicks in the middle of the night, the Savior of the world is born in a stable.

This is where Hope begins.  

And that is the point. Hope is not ever the obvious choice. Hope only makes sense when everything else is lost. Hope is not glorious. It is not dignified. It is not the hallmark of an obvious victory, but the last breath of an assured defeat. It is not the reward of the champion; it is the gift to the bloodied brow. We do not need rescue from easy times, and hope never accompanies a wonderful experience. That is why it is so important.

When you sit and think about the tragedies the world has seen of late and you throw them up against the excessive nature of the way we celebrate the holidays, it is no wonder that people get cynical. Christmas shopping and holiday parties and gift giving seem kind of silly in comparison to the real dangers and heartbreaks people are feeling all around the world.

Advent begins with hope because it is just this kind of world that God breaks into. To remind us that while everything around us seems to be falling apart, he has not forgotten us. He has not taken his eyes off the world. He is with us. He is starting something that will alter history and he is inviting us to be a part. And so we hope, not because of our circumstances, but in spite of them.

Hope always begins as a small light. But it is easy to see a small light when it is in a very dark place. And it does not take long for even the smallest light to change the color of the entire world.

In Preparation for Anticipation

I had been preparing something different to share over the past week. In light of several conversations I had over the weekend, that piece is going on the shelf for a little while; it’s pretty heavy, and it’s the week of Thanksgiving. It is also the week before Advent starts. Let’s go with that, how does that sound?

Advent, for those of you unfamiliar with more traditional practices in worship, means “arrival,” and it is the four-week period before Christmas where Christians reflect on and prepare for the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. The four Sundays leading up to it are typically marked in Christian services by lighting four candles on a wreath, in succession, standing for Hope, Love, Joy and Peace. On Christmas Eve, a white candle in the center of the wreath is lit to signify Christ.

Growing up, this was one of the more definitive markings of the Christmas season in my eyes. It is one of the traditions in worship that, no matter how many times I experience it, never feels stale. More churches should do it, I think.

Yesterday at Christian Church Buckhead, Derek and I spoke on stage about traditions like these and what they mean. In preparing for our talk, I began my own reflection on Advent, and particularly the phrase Immanuel. It is a Hebrew phrase meaning “God is with us.” It was then referenced in the Gospel of Matthew regarding the birth of Jesus.

God is with us.

It is an oft-repeated bit of trivia that the most common command given in the Bible is “Do not fear,” in some form or another. I have even seen it said that it occurs 365 times (I’ve not counted it myself, but it makes a nice point). But another phrase that occurs as often, and maybe even more, is a promise:

“I am with you.”

I have been unable to get a count of the exact number of times this promise--or some version of it--is made, but I am going to go out on a limb with confidence and say that it must be the most frequent promise God gives to his people throughout Scripture. Take a minute and think about all of the ramifications of that phrase.

“I am with you.”

It is a relational phrase. It is a reminder that God is not far-off and disconnected. He is not a divine watchmaker, setting the world into motion and letting it run. He is a Creator who loves his Creation. It matters to God how we are doing, how we treat one another, and how we view him. It matters so much that God left his place in the glory of Heaven to come walk among us in the dust of the Earth. He wants us to know him as much as we are known by him.

It is a hopeful phrase. The promise “I am with you,” or “God is with you,” often accompanies that frequent command “Do not fear.” And when it doesn’t, it usually comes right before or right after danger or despair. It reminds us then that while there might be adversity in our lives, while things may get hard, and when all seems lost, the one thing we can rely on is the presence of God in our midst. It reminds us that we do not face those hardships alone, and that the one who walks beside us is none other than the Savior of the world himself. No evil can stand against those whose friend is the conquerer of darkness.

It is a communal phrase. Grammatically, “I am with you” or “God is with you,” normally addresses not one person, but a group of people. We Southerners would say “God is with y’all.” The phrase Immanuel, “God is with us,” is first-person plural. It reminds us that we have each other. God did not create us for solitude and he has given us the power and blessing to be his image for one another. It is a wonderful thing to know that God is with us, but it is sometimes hard to wrap our heads around that. That is why God gave us each other. So that we could be reminded in a tangible sense that we are not alone.

God is with us.

The past few weeks in the world have been frightening, disconcerting, saddening. But as much as I grieve the pain the world feels in light of natural disaster and evil tragedy, I do not despair. Because there is hope. As evil and dark as the last few weeks have been, their proximity on the calendar to this season of the year only underscores the victory that has been won by the arrival of Christ. Evil does not stand a chance because evil has already been dealt with. The evil we face today is like an angry wasp that has been swatted and is about to die. It is dangerous and it can cause pain, but its sting is not the beginning of a victory--it is the end of a defeat. It is a death throe.

When I hear people talk the coming of the Kingdom, I remind them that Kingdom is here. It is not a future event that we are expected to wait for, but a present reality that we are called to reveal.

Do not fear.

Killing the Hostility

Like everyone, the news over the weekend made me sick with anger. But I have nothing new to add to that discussion. We all feel it, and rightly so. As I write this and as you read it, governments are planning and carrying out their responses. There will be retribution in some form or another. That is the burden of men and women in a different position of leadership than myself. They are in my prayers.

So, since we all agree it was awful and since the proper channels are being employed to deal with it in more concrete terms, let's turn our attention to something a little more abstract.

More than any form of retribution, what the world needs is an outpouring of true and selfless love. I do not mean a nice feeling that overcomes you when you see someone who you are fond of. Love has nothing to do with how you feel.

This is the kind of love that kneels down and helps a suffering stranger in a dangerous part of town. This is the kind of love that looks in the eye of the one who spits in your face and still offers a kind word. This is the stubborn, furious, indestructible love that refuses to be an enemy. The kind of love that lays down its life for another rather than seeking to take life for itself.

Love is the great revenge.

If any of you know me, then you know I write from a Christian perspective. I believe in a God who created a world that he loved and cherishes. The God I serve would rather die on a cross than see any of his creation--even those who do not worship him--suffer.  If there is a life I feel is worthy of copying, it is Jesus'. I have never come close, but I try.

You see, Jesus did not not kill anyone, nor did he command others to kill in his name, but for some reason, people were willing to follow him to the death. Jesus announced the kingdom of God, but he did not coerce anyone into serving him in it. Jesus changed the world, but the fire he ignited brought unity to people otherwise divided by giving them good news instead of bringing division by spreading fear.

In his letter to the church in Ephesus, Paul writes of Jesus that “he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility.”

Jesus sought to end the meaningless divisions between people, the bigotry, the jealousy, and the fear--and so committed was he to this pursuit that he was willing to die to bring reconciliation to those divided.

This does not mean that governments should not respond when their citizens are attacked. I am no pacifist. It is the job of the strong to protect the weak against injustice. What it means is that we must be careful as individuals not to let our hearts become hardened to the point that we think of our enemies the way our enemies think of us. The first response that many of us had and might even still be having is the desire for vengeance. And with that comes a tendency to view our enemies as less than ourselves.

This is why Jesus told his followers to pray for their enemies. When you pray for someone, your heart holds them in a place of patience and kindness and mercy. And as long as your heart is oriented towards goodness, it cannot reflect evil. It is the job of people of faith, no matter how hard it is, to lift everyone--even our enemies--to the Lord in prayer.

Because even those who are not like us, who hate us, who wish us dead, even they are creations of the same God who we serve. Whether or not they believe it is irrelevant. Jesus did not command us to only pray for those who are like us. He commanded us to pray for everyone.

To what end, though? To be honest, I am not exactly sure. Christ did not make it clear what would happen if we did. But I know that Jesus changed the world, so he was probably on to something.

What I do know is this: darkness is a coward. It shrouds itself in blackness because it cannot abide to face the light. No belief system which denigrates the humanity of others, which views life as irredeemable, which values destruction over celebration, will stand in history against those of us who see life as sacred, who believe everyone can add value to our common humanity, and who rejoice in the outbreak of peace and good will.

I do not fear darkness because I have seen how quickly it retreats from even the faintest glow of light.

Start where you are. If you are a person of faith, then pray that there would be healing and restoration in the midst of this broken moment. But also pray that in the darkest hearts of those who are our enemies, the light of true goodness would pierce through and reveal their sacred humanity even to themselves.

It is a new week. There is work to be done. People far off are doing the job of addressing the politics of all that we have seen. But we are here, and we still have a job to do.

A Christian Response to Christian Responses

First things first. I believe in Jesus and I celebrate Christmas. But I grow tired of Christians throwing tantrums every single time a corporation makes a business decision that doesn’t reflect Biblical values and offends the delicate sensibilities of people whose understanding of the Bible never grew past Sunday School in fifth grade.

Case in point: recently, some guy made a video decrying Starbucks for taking “Christmas” off of their winter cups and apparently not letting their employees tell customers “Merry Christmas,” [the latter issue turned out to be incorrect], and encouraged “all great Americans and Christians” to go to Starbucks and give their names as Merry Christmas. Get it?! That way Starbuck’s has to say it. “I tricked ya!” he exclaims.

A few things, friends.

Starbucks is a business. It is not a ministry. It is not a church. It is not a non-profit. It is a business. Its product is coffee. They aren’t required, nor should they be expected, to make any reference to any holiday at all during any part of the year. They also don’t have a menora on their cups, even though Hanukkah is celebrated during the same time. It’s irrelevant to their business. Get over it.

More importantly, will someone explain to me why it is some big corporation’s job to remember Christmas? Here’s a thought: If you want to hear someone say “Merry Christmas” when you’re in line at Starbucks or a store in the mall or where ever, how about you say it? Quit asking the world to pander to you. Christians are not called to be served, but to serve.

Finally, let’s have some perspective. Does it occur to anyone who is bothered about the so-called “War on Christmas” that right now, in the world where we live, Christians in other countries are imprisoned, tortured, and executed for their faith? And you’re complaining because the cup holding your Grande Soy No Whip Peppermint Mocha doesn’t have a Nativity on it? Or that the cashier ringing up your iPhone 6 didn’t wish you a Merry Christmas? Shame on you. How about this: Shut up. Or better yet, instead of whining and making Christianity look like a faith of timid victims of injustice, use your breath to pray for people who are experiencing actual persecution. You can even do that while sipping on your $7 coffee.

And since when does being a great American have anything to do with Christianity? Look: Christianity is not a political movement. It is not a business model. It is God’s program of revealing God’s kingdom on earth. As such, it does not need to be protected from big corporations that have no allegiance to it. It does not need to be protected by the Constitution of a nation that is 1700 years younger than it. It needs to be proclaimed by those of us who believe it.

“But Joel,” you say, “Doesn’t it bother you that our Christian values are being eroded and attacked in this country?” Not really. I’ll tell you why.

Historically, and even in the world today, the places where Christianity thrives the most and grows the fastest are not places where it is safe to believe it. It almost always flounders when it gets in bed with power. Our country is the perfect example of that last point. Instead, it has always thrived contrary to logic: where it is most dangerous to proclaim the Gospel, it gains the most traction. You see, when it is dangerous to believe, then only the truly committed will profess. And the brand of faith of the truly committed is the most robust, sturdy, and powerful type there is. 

Next, the United States is a country founded by people who exist in history. Which means it is imperfect, flawed, and ultimately, transient. This nation won’t be here forever. That’s not a doomsday prophecy, that’s just fact.  300 years ago, there was no United States of America. But there was the Christian faith. Which one do you think stands a greater chance of survival: The one founded by a handful of revolutionaries angry about taxes, or the one inaugurated by the resurrection of the Son of God?

We need to be less concerned about our rights as citizens of a relatively young earthly nation and more concerned about our call as citizens of an eternal kingdom. Christianity was here before the U.S., and it will be here long after the U.S. is gone. How a culture treats Christmas does nothing to change what Christ commanded his followers to do: Love God with all your being and love your neighbor as you love yourself.

And we need to trust that God is actually big enough and powerful enough and intelligent enough to take care of the rest. He’s done a great job so far; that whole resurrection thing really showed a lot of potential. . .

Look. My point is that Christmas will be Christmas whether Starbuck’s puts it on their cups or not. Stop getting bothered by it. Stop drawing attention to it. Stop making Christians look like a bunch of spoiled brats. Instead, show joy, extend grace, and practice love. I’ve got a feeling God can do wonders with that sort of commitment more than he can with Starbuck’s putting Jesus on their red cups.

And next time you get that Grande Soy No Whip Peppermint Mocha, don’t be bothered by the fact that the image of Jesus isn’t on the cup. Instead, be the image of Jesus for the person handing it to you, and wish them a Merry Christmas. Problem solved.