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well said …

well said …

A Christian View of War
By Oliver “Buzz” Thomas

“Pray for our troops.”

Millions of signs and bumper stickers carry the message, and part of me likes it. But part of me keeps waiting for another bumper sticker — the one I still haven’t seen. Whether Jesus would drive an SUV, I’m still not sure. Truth is he’d probably ride the bus. Or the subway. But if he had money for a car and didn’t give it all away to the hookers and the homeless before he got to the used-car lot, I’m pretty sure that his bumper sticker would say “pray for our enemies.”

Before you write me off as a left-wing crackpot, consider what we know. During his famous Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said three things relevant to the subject of war:

• Blessed are the peacemakers.
• Turn the other cheek.
• Pray for your enemies.

Here’s something else we know. Three-quarters of the U.S. population consider themselves Christian. That translates into about 224 million Americans.

So why are so few of us taking the teachings of Jesus seriously when it comes to this latest war? Out here in the heartland, only a handful of churches are even talking about it.

Christian obligations

The most plausible explanation is that we’re scared. Some things, it seems, may trump religion. Fear is one of them. If Christians are afraid (and who could blame them after 9/11?), it’s not surprising that they’re listening to other voices besides Jesus’ when it comes to the war in Iraq. So what should the three-fourths of Americans who identify themselves as “Christian” make of the Iraq war?

We could spend a lot of time debating whether St. Augustine’s “Just War Theory” can be stretched to accommodate our invasion of Iraq, but at this late date it really doesn’t matter. We invaded. And, if the Just War Theory means anything, it means that we shouldn’t leave Iraq in a bigger mess than we found it. Americans of faith, it would seem, are obligated to do at least the following:

• Express concern for all suffering, including that of our enemies. That means more than paying lip service. As James, the brother of Jesus, said, it does not suffice to tell a hungry man “God bless you!” or “We will pray for you!” We must address his hunger. The same can be said for the additional food, health care, police and countless other things the Iraqi people need. And, though an immediate withdrawal would be precipitous, we must work diligently to respond to the Iraqis’ desire that our troops leave as quickly as possible.

• Recommit ourselves to the fundamental principles of justice and human rights that have been a hallmark of our faith, as well as of our nation. That means no more secret prisons, no more secret trials and no more torture. America cannot resort to the worst practices of the Gulag (where citizens were declared “enemies of the state” and whisked away to Siberian work camps without the benefit of a fair trial or the assistance of counsel) and expect to be an accepted member of the world community, much less a leader of it.

• Repudiate the statements of any religious or political leader who suggests that America has a special claim on God. He may have a special claim on us, but we do not have a special claim on him. Our beloved nation is a civil state, not a religious one. There are no references to God in our Constitution. The only reference to religion — other than in the First Amendment — is found in Article VI, which proclaims that there will be no religious test for public office in the USA. The Founding Fathers gave us a secular state in which all religions are free to flourish or flounder on their own initiative without interference by the government. Those running around claiming we are “in the army of God” or slapping up copies of the Ten Commandments on government buildings threaten to turn us into the very sort of society we are fighting against in this new war.

• Force our elected officials to address the conditions that have given rise to global terrorism in the first place. Terrorism exists for a reason. One of those reasons is that our society has been far too unconcerned about the plight of Muslim people around the world. Why, for example, have we not instituted a mini-Marshall Plan for the millions of Palestinians who have often gone without adequate land, roads, hospitals and schools since the 1967 war with Israel? Corruption among Palestinian leaders has squandered billions in the past, but responsible partners on the ground can and must be found. Private foundations with a long history of engagement might be a good place to start.

Tackling terrorism’s roots

We need not and should not repudiate our long-standing alliance with Israel to accomplish this. It’s simply that our religious traditions teach us that to whom much is given, much is required. The irony, of course, is that it’s in our best interest to relieve Palestinian suffering. True, some terrorist leaders come from affluent families and cite Western worldliness and decadence as their motivation for jihad, but the economic factor cannot be ignored. There is no better recruiting ground for the troops of terror than the maddening monotony and grinding poverty of a refugee camp.

In ancient times, particular gods were associated with particular nations. “Tribal deities,” we call them. Today we know better. God is not the mascot of Republicans, Democrats or, for that matter, Americans. God transcends all national and political affiliations. His precinct is the universe.

America is in the deep woods. Never have we been less popular in the eyes of the world. Never have we faced so unsettling an enemy. But before we circle the wagons, Christians should get serious about following the teachings of the one by whose name we are called. He might just know the way out.

Oliver “Buzz” Thomas is a minister in Tennessee and author of an upcoming book, 10 Things Your Minister Wants to Tell You (But Can’t Because He Needs the Job).

no matter who you are …

no matter who you are …

No matter who you are, or where you are on life’s journey,
you are welcome here.

The folks at my church have heard me repeat this tag line from the United Church of Christ national media campaign countless times. For me, it expresses something fundamental about the gospel to which I am called to witness, something not so much about our readiness to welcome anybody, as about Jesus’ readiness to welcome everybody, something not so much about our hospitality, as about Jesus’ gracious invitation. Jesus invited me and Jesus welcomed me! So I know Jesus will invite and welcome you … no matter who you are!

This is what love is: it is not that we have loved God, but that God loved us and sent Jesus to be the means by which our sins are forgiven.

That gracious invitation is especially vivid to me when I stand behind the communion table in our church sanctuary, inviting people to receive the food and drink that Jesus offers them. Because it is Jesus who makes the invitation! The bread and the wine are not mine to give, not the church’s to give, and most certainly not ours to decide who may or may not be invited to the table. This is one of the most meaningful things I do as a minister, extending Jesus’ invitation to eat and to drink, offering to each and to all these emblems of grace.

Communion is a sacrament, a means of grace, a means of experiencing/accessing/being touched by grace. We are called to the table to remember Jesus, and, perhaps even more importantly, to remember that we are remembered by Jesus. We are called to the table to meet Jesus, to be met by Jesus, to celebrate the possibility and to experience the reality of intimacy with Jesus. This is what the gospel is about! This is the good news!

So how could I possibly turn anyone away? How could I ever refuse you access to the Lord’s table … no matter who you are?

These thoughts were stirred as I read Katherine Willis’ blog post entitled, Never too broken. She reminds us: We are never too broken to receive the grace of God in all its tangible and intangible forms. Her post about access to the communion table, and how some have tragically been denied access, is well worth reading.

filled with power

filled with power

When the Holy Spirit comes upon you, you will be filled with power, and you will be witnesses for me …

That’s what Jesus promised his first apostles: you will be filled with power … and they were:

  • power to boldly proclaim a message of good news
  • power to heal broken bodies and broken souls
  • power to stand up to fierce opposition and harsh persecution
  • power to see what they could not see before — the ever-widening circle of the Lord’s embrace.

You will be filled with power …

Do you feel powerful, empowered, filled with power? Sometimes it seems that for us faith is more about comfort and assurance than about power, more about belief than about action, more about what Jesus can do for us than about we can do in Jesus’ name.

What can we do in Jesus’ name?

  • Can we boldly proclaim good news to a world that is cynical, hurting, despairing, splintered?
  • Do we expect to bring healing to broken souls and broken bodies?
  • Will we stand up and not back down in the face of doubt, derision, scoffing, verbal attacks, political isolation?
  • Will we see the still-widening circle of the Lord’s embrace?

I don’t want to be part of a church that is innocuous, self-absorbed, timid. I don’t want to be content with a faith that promises future blessing, but makes no real difference now. I want to know what it is — to explore with you, my fellow believers, what it is — that we can do here and now in Jesus’ name!

Do we believe the good news? Do we believe Jesus is alive? Do we believe Jesus is alive in us? Do we believe that we are filled with power, and are we ready to exercise that power in love, in Jesus’ name, for our neighbor’s sake?

martin luther king still has something to say to us

martin luther king still has something to say to us

An excerpt from the last speech given by Martin Luther King:

Let us develop a kind of dangerous unselfishness. One day a man came to Jesus; and he wanted to raise some questions about some vital matters in life. At points, he wanted to trick Jesus, and show him that he knew a little more than Jesus knew, and through this, throw him off base. Now that question could have easily ended up in a philosophical and theological debate. But Jesus immediately pulled that question from mid-air, and placed it on a dangerous curve between Jerusalem and Jericho. And he talked about a certain man, who fell among thieves. You remember that a Levite and a priest passed by on the other side. They didn’t stop to help him. And finally a man of another race came by. He got down from his beast, decided not to be compassionate by proxy. But with him, administering first aid, and helped the man in need. Jesus ended up saying, this was the good man, this was the great man, because he had the capacity to project the “I” into the “thou,” and to be concerned about his brother. Now you know, we use our imagination a great deal to try to determine why the priest and the Levite didn’t stop. At times we say they were busy going to church meetings—an ecclesiastical gathering—and they had to get on down to Jerusalem so they wouldn’t be late for their meeting. At other times we would speculate that there was a religious law that “One who was engaged in religious ceremonials was not to touch a human body twenty-four hours before the ceremony.” And every now and then we begin to wonder whether maybe they were not going down to Jerusalem, or down to Jericho, rather to organize a “Jericho Road Improvement Association.” That’s a possibility. Maybe they felt that it was better to deal with the problem from the causal root, rather than to get bogged down with an individual effort.

But I’m going to tell you what my imagination tells me. It’s possible that these men were afraid. You see, the Jericho road is a dangerous road. I remember when Mrs. King and I were first in Jerusalem. We rented a car and drove from Jerusalem down to Jericho. And as soon as we got on that road, I said to my wife, “I can see why Jesus used this as a setting for his parable.” It’s a winding, meandering road. It’s really conducive for ambushing. You start out in Jerusalem, which is about 1200 miles, or rather 1200 feet above sea level. And by the time you get down to Jericho, fifteen or twenty minutes later, you’re about 2200 feet below sea level. That’s a dangerous road. In the days of Jesus it came to be known as the “Bloody Pass.” And you know, it’s possible that the priest and the Levite looked over that man on the ground and wondered if the robbers were still around. Or it’s possible that they felt that the man on the ground was merely faking. And he was acting like he had been robbed and hurt, in order to seize them over there, lure them there for quick and easy seizure. And so the first question that the Levite asked was, “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?” But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question: “If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?”

That’s the question before you tonight. Not, “If I stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to all of the hours that I usually spend in my office every day and every week as a pastor?” The question is not, “If I stop to help this man in need, what will happen to me?” “If I do not stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to them?” That’s the question …

transforming memory

transforming memory

We are a product of our memories …

I heard someone make that comment a few days ago. It’s true. We do not encounter the present moment with a “clean slate,” but with the blessing and the burden of our memories. Our memories shape the ways we interpret and react to the situations we encounter. And our memories direct our steps. We try to create or find situations that will duplicate our good memories and we try to avoid situations that may duplicate our bad memories.

When we accumulate enough of one or the other, they become solidified, as it were, into a mindset, an outlook, a way of being. Enough good memories encourage us to welcome the future with open arms, expecting more. But enough bad memories make us fear the future and despise the present.

So how do you change a mindset? Are we prisoners of our memories — good or bad?

Memories cannot be altered, but the way they are put together may be. A mindset is not the product of the memories themselves, but of the way we interpret them, the way we retell the stories. That is the key — storytelling. The story is the means of making sense of the memories, of understanding and assimilating their meanings. But we can learn a new story! We can retell our old stories in new ways!

That is what forgiveness is about … not changing the past, but changing the way we feel about it, changing the way we think about it, changing the way we tell its story. I once was lost, but now I’m found! Faith is about learning to see ourselves through the eyes of Jesus, of learning to see ourselves as Jesus sees us, of learning to love ourselves as Jesus loves us.

We cannot change our memories, but they may become good memories as we begin to comprehend the “big picture” of our lives and see the hand of God at work from beginning to end. It’s a good story … with a most happy ending!

grief

grief

Grief …

Grief takes something from us that can never be regained. We cannot get it back … but nevertheless what we do have is enough. We have Jesus.

Jesus is with us … and that is enough.

Faith is not magical. We do not invoke the name of Jesus and expect everything to bounce our way. Faith is mystical. Jesus is with us, at all times, in all circumstances, in this very moment … and forever. And when Jesus is with us, it is not that everything will be okay … it is that everything is okay!

as a mighty ocean

as a mighty ocean

O the deep, deep love of Jesus
Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free,
Rolling as a mighty ocean
In its fullness over me.

Standing on a boat thirty miles offshore, with no land in sight in any direction, the imagery of this favorite hymn comes to life.

vast, unmeasured …

All there is is ocean — underneath me, all around me. There is seemingly no end to these waters, as far as both eye and imagination can see. This is what Jesus’ love is like! Without limit and without end! Rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me …

boundless, free …

From this vantage point it is clear: the land does not put boundaries on the sea; the sea puts boundaries on the land. The sea is everything — foundation, source, sustainer — from which all else rises to life.

And the sea is itself a living thing, not made heavy or slow or inflexible by its great size. It is lithe and dancing and free! Always in motion, always changing, unpredictable, uncontrollable. You don’t tell Jesus what to do or where to go … but Jesus’ love is there, boundless and free, of its own choice, of his own will.

Today, from this happy vantage point, the wonder of the love of Jesus is impressed on me … It is like this! Like this ocean! Rolling in its fullness over me!

May the eyes of your heart, the eyes of your imagination, allow you too to fathom the breadth and depth of the love of Jesus for you …