When an Answer is Needed

In last Tuesday’s post, I outlined how I would be using social media with purpose; and I mentioned that for me, this meant not engaging in online debates.  I would like to clarify this position before being written off as a coward or intellectual sloth, or merely as one who choose not to articulate her beliefs because they are too weak to hold any weight.  The reason I am choosing not to engage in online debates is because I have been involved in these types of online discourse, and I have found that these debates

1.        Honor no one – not God, not my friend[s], not myself

2.        Change no one’s mind

3.        Reflect a poor representation of my God, myself, and others who also hold my opinions.

Thus, I will save my personal disagreements for in-person interactions, with one caveat, which I’ll delineate below.

That being said, I know that believers are called to give an answer for their faith.  And that silence, while at times may be the most prudent response, can make the silent party complicit in the opposing side’s argument or action. 

There is a tension I am exploring between meekness and setting boundaries, between holding my tongue to live in peace and making my voice heard.  I have a responsibility to both use my voice on behalf of those who cannot, or against those who seek to harm, and to stay my strength so that unity and love are given to a world that needs both.       

 

Sin is not ended by multiplying words, but the prudent hold their tongues.

 ~ Proverbs 10:19

Blessed are the meek…Christ was silent in the face of His accusers.  He was silent on the walk up to Calvary.  He was silent when beaten, when insulted, when accused.  Yet, he overturned the money changer’s tables in the temple.  He answered (most) questions directly asked of Him.  At times, He rebuked those who challenged Him as openly as they approached Him.  So, are we to “turn the other cheek” when insulted, when the gospel is at stake?  Are we to be silent in the face of injustice?  Do we stand idly by when we see our fellow humans coming to harm?  I find that there are times when inaction makes us complicit with evil.  When silence itself muffles the call of the Gospel.  For meekness does not mean that we are always silent.  As Christ did, we are to jealously defend the God-ordained, through-the-blood-of-Jesus right, and therefore freedom, of all to come to the Lord unhindered.  We are to call out to the lost, the broken, and the weary with words of hope and truth.  We are to answer those who question us on behalf the God whom we are to represent.  We are to challenge those, as publically as they are presenting their case, who are preventing or marring the gospel.  And we are to do it all with a spirit of love, an attitude of grace, and complete humility – for not a single one of us may boast in anything except the atoning sacrifice of Christ Jesus on our sinful and fallen behalf.    

In practice, this means that:

1.        Every believer is an apologist.  That means YOU are an apologist.  And I am an apologist.  Certainly not on par with Drs. Lane, Dembuski, or Lennox[1]; but we are still meant to represent God and Christ and the Holy Spirit in our actions, words, thoughts, and yes, arguments.  Figure out what you believe and why you believe it; then learn how to defend it.  Be ready to give an answer for the Gospel at all times, under all circumstances.  Faith in God is not illogical.  It is the most reasoned and rational of all worldviews.  If you’re not sure where to begin, make a list of what you know to be true about God and find the scripture that backs up your statement; if it’s not in there, you need to revisit what you think about God.  Or, you can start with your church’s statement of faith (also called a doctrinal confession, or simply, “what we believe"); same exercise – make sure what they claim to believe is really found in God’s Word.  Or grab a book on theology or apologetics; for if you’ve made it to this blog, you can read and have been given the gift of intelligent thought.  I have been admonished that to waste this is sin.   

2.         If you are being insulted, mocked, and derided for your faith, do not seek the last word.  Turn the other cheek; pray for your enemies and bless those who persecute you.  Always speak truth.  Always offer grace.  Strive with every breath to live out the Gospel with love.  Never retaliate.  Don’t offend willfully.  Be humble and remember that before God, we are all equal – sinners in desperate need of His Son, our Savior.   

3.        If the Gospel is being misrepresented, correct this misrepresentation to the best of your ability, gracefully, as publically as the misinformation is presented.  Do not forward personal attacks against the speaker.  Example: if it’s at your dinner table, only address it with your family and guests.  If it’s a nationally broadcast sermon or speech, use your media outlets to offer a loving, thoughtful, rational counter position.  And heed the call to humility in #2.

4.       Politics do not equal faith.  Gun control is not the same thing as theology.  Yes, faith should map our political opinions.  But when we try to paint God as one brand of political agent or another, we make idols of our political system and mock the Kingdom of God.  The key here is to make sure that your political leanings line up with your theology.  Remember the apologetic exercises in #1?  Put your political views through the same paces – write them down and see if you can find scripture to back them up.  Be mindful of which scriptures you’re employing; and if you find yourself looking to modern television characters quoting Levitcal or Deuteronomical codes, you’re not thinking your position through.  Nor are you really reading scripture.     

 And so I want to encourage you – stand up for what you believe.  Do not be bullied into silence.  Do not allow slander to quiet the proclamation of the gospel.  Yet, do not make the Gospel something it isn’t – political fodder or personal judgment.  Do everything with the love of Christ in your heart, and the humility of a sinner on your tongue. 

 

I said, “I will watch my ways and keep my tongue from sin; I will put a muzzle on my mouth while in the presence of the wicked.”

 ~ Psalm 39:1

 

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[1] If you want to watch these master scholar-philosophers and apologist in action, the following are links to actual debates with popular secular scholars.

Dr. William Craig Lane vs. Christopher Hitchens – Does God Exist Debate: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FofDChlSILU  accessed 1/29/13 1:06pm

 

William Dembksi vs. Christopher Hitchens – Does God Exist Debate: http://winteryknight.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/video-christopher-hitchens-debates-william-dembski-does-god-exist/ accessed 1/29/13 1:06pm

 

John Lennox vs. Richard Dawkins – The God Delusion Debate: http://fixed-point.org/index.php/video/35-full-length/164-the-dawkins-lennox-debate  accessed 1/29/13 1:05pm

Purpose for the days when I struggle

                It’s been awhile now, but the memory still crops up every now and again.  Usually when I think about what I wish church looked like; when I am weary of the fight and considering just sitting back, retiring my fervor, and simply signing up for a women’s bible study.  Not that there’s anything wrong with women’s bible studies—quite the opposite!  There are lots of things very right about them.  But because I’ve never really fit in with the women’s ministry crowd, for me, they are a subtle surrender to comfort, and … less.

                 I remember I was at our church-at-the-time, chatting over “what’s going on with you these days” with a former pastor, our then-pastor, and my husband, the Officer.  The Officer had been invited to teach and our pastor was verbally applauding his ability thus, noting his seminary experience as additional reference.  I was beaming, genuinely, because I know that the Officer is a gifted teacher; and I love hearing others praise this quality as well. 

                Our former pastor then turned to me, knowing I, too, was a seminary student, and asked, “What about you, Jen?  Are you teaching here?”

                The honest answer was no; and I said as much, quickly and emphatically, trying to show that our pastor had not extended such an invitation.  I certainly did not want him implicated in allowing a woman to teach.  I did not even want the assumption permitted to linger. 

                The men returned to their small talk; but I couldn’t shake the apprehensive feeling of being found out.  You see, I do have a passion for teaching, a desire to share God’s Word.  And I do very firmly believe that women are capable of doing so.  Not just for the benefit of children and other women; but for the edification of the entire body.  And I believe that women are able to pastor as adeptly and appropriately as men.  I’m not saying I want the job, I certainly don’t consider myself qualified for it.  But I am saying that as a sex, we should be permitted to have it, if we are so called and gifted.  Which makes me a feminist in many eyes; a label I will not shun.  But for fear of using a word with so much negativity attached to it (at least in evangelical circles), I won’t go so far as to say that Jesus was a feminist, too.  Simply because Jesus wasn’t any –ist: not feminist, not humanist, not traditionalist, etc… 

                Jesus was and is a member of the Godhead.  As such, He knew that every single person, male or female, Jew or Gentile, slave or free, is fallen and sinful; and therefore in desperate need of redemption and reconciliation.  Jesus knew that without Him, none of us can have a relationship with His Father, Almighty God.  And so, on behalf of all of us, He was crucified for our sins and rose again, victorious over death once and for all.  After which He sent the Holy Spirit, another member of the Godhead, to reside in the heart of every believer: male or female, Jew or Gentile, free or slave.  And the Holy Spirit, God’s presence indwelling the believer, gifts and empowers individual believers as He sees fit, not as humanity deems appropriate.       

                That being said, there are times when I still hesitate to openly share my position on the matter because it goes against so much tradition.  And when flouting tradition, one comes to expect a fight.  People, myself chief amongst, have emotional connections to their theology.  But when one’s theology is challenged, emotions are engaged and we can find ourselves involved in conflict that has the potential to end up being highly divisive and damaging.  Truth be told, I see holding this position as a difficult, long drawn-out pursuit not for the faint of heart.  A rebellion of sorts, not against God’s Word, but against the status quo; against the way things have always been.  Thus, I don’t want to assign allegiance to one who does not chose it; nor is it my place to out someone who quietly supports this truth, but has as yet not given it voice.  Because it is exhaustingly hard to battle constantly with tradition.  And I certainly don’t want to heave the weight of that struggle on anyone; so I find myself doing what I can to make sure the people around me aren’t associated too closely with my ideas, either through purpose or inadvertent assumptions.  I find myself being quiet, holding my tongue, or blithely nodding along when inside my head I’m refuting what’s being said to support the structures of tradition. 

                Which means that compounding the inherent struggle is the reality that there aren’t a lot of local like-minded groups.  Not too many studies or small groups or conferences or webinars hosted by local churches that facilitate this line of thinking.  So for someone in a semi-rural area, like me, holding to this truth can get kind of lonely.  And for all the support I can find in the twitter- and blogo-sphere, I fully admit that humans were designed as relational creatures; and these media outlets are a meager phantom standing in the stead of genuine, encouraging relationships.       

                It is in these lonely and weary times that I want to just quit.  Let someone else do the fighting for me.  It would be easier that way.  But then, I always think about what I want my daughter and son to grow up knowing: what it means to follow Jesus, even when it’s hard or lonely or long.  And I think of what it must have been like to follow Him when He walked among humanity.  His followers had to contend with the Essenes, the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the Gentiles; groups that didn’t often agree.  While Christ did much to correct their doctrines during His incarnation, He didn’t come specifically for that purpose.  He came to make a way for all who desired fellowship with Almighty God.  Even those, mentioned above, who should have known better.   

                Thus in keeping with my one word for 2013, I have decided to be purposeful in my interactions both online and in real life.  First and foremost, I will daily strive to be worthy of the gospel which has saved me. I will seek first to promote the revelatory and sanctifying truth that all who believe in Jesus and follow Him with their whole lives will be saved.  From there, because I know better, I will keep fighting for the truth that Jesus came on behalf of all people; that His Spirit indwells all those who believe in Him and receive His sacrificial death as their own; that God Almighty calls and equips and empowers all those whom He wills, be they male or female, free or slave, Jew or Gentile, for the edification of all believers, the expanse of His kingdom, and the glorification of His Holy and Righteous Name. 

                I will not allow silence to be an assention, a surrender.  I will speak for those who cannot, for those who don't yet have the strength or courage, for those who do not yet know.  But above all, though I may grow weary, or lonely, or afraid, I will rest in truth of gospel of Jesus Christ, who came to give freedom to the captives and healing to the brokenhearted.  


  

The Silence of Calvary

Declaration 8:  The new creation that I am uses her voice for encouragement, edification, Love, and Truth.  Strength can be exhibited in the quiet; and a calm response can change an outcome.   

                For Love was silent on Calvary…

Suggested reading: Proverbs 15:1, Matthew 27, Mark 15, James 1:19-21

Some of you may recall that during the past Lenten season, I gave up talking on Mondays.  It was a particularly challenging time for me, both as one who relishes words, and as someone whose home was undergoing a remodel [due to a flood] and was therefore the opposite of a silent respite.  Naturally, I failed; but along with my imperfect attempts came some wonderful growth.   One lesson that came out of my fast was how much of my non-silent time was spent nagging or scolding or rebuking.  And how grating my voice was when it broke the silence thus. 

I have been tasked with raising two beautiful and imperfect [they get that from me] children; as well as walking alongside and sharing life with a magnificent man.  And I can tell you that in these most important of relationships, kind words are received much more quickly than harsh ones.  I know that encouraging my children in good behavior is more enjoyable for all than rebuking them for the bad.  When talking over the difficult things of this world with friends, a tender response [which is sometimes just silence anyway] outstrips a haughty one any day. 

But what I speak has to be a mirror of truth.  I gain nothing and I help no one if I placate them with niceties instead of speaking the truth.  Encouragement, by its definition cannot be rooted in untruthfulness.  Edification cannot happen apart from honesty.  Love has to be true in order to be genuine love.  Jesus, the Word of God, was never false.  He was the embodiment of Truth.  He was also the Love in the flesh.  The two cannot be divorced from each other: Love is Truth, and Truth is Love.  Thus, whatever I say should first and foremost be true; and its delivery should always seek to lift up the person with whom I am relating.  Regardless of to whom I speak: my children or husband, a non-believer or an esteemed theologian, a friend or foe, each is worthy of love and each deserves truth.  

In light of today’s fast approaching election, I write this knowing that the climate of insulting rhetoric is as thick as it has ever been.  Colleagues demean one another, insolent youths threaten riot, and families are divided across party lines.  Yet, we cannot use our idealistic differences as permission to inflict harm upon one another.  For no matter how brutally we are attacked, or how vehemently we disagree with those who oppose our political bent, we must be truthful in love. 

And sometimes, when we are not being directly called upon to defend our faith, silence is the most loving course of action.  When we are sure that no further word from us will change the mind of the person standing against us; when we have exhausted respectful discourse, when they are completely unwilling to even consider our point of view.  For on the way up to Calvary, Jesus did not utter a word.  According to Matthew and Mark, once He answered Pilate, to make this mortal aware that the power to give Himself up was His alone, Jesus said nothing. 

Nothing during the scorging.  Nothing during the crowning.  Nothing during the long walk up Golgotha.  Nothing when He stumbled.  Nothing to His assigned helper.  Nothing as the nails pierced His skin.  Nothing until He hung upon the cross for every sin in all of human history, in the instead of every person who would be accept this sacrifice.  And then, He did not curse those who hung Him there, nor those who cried out for His punishment, nor those whom He loved but had abandoned Him, nor any person before or since for whose sins He was killed.  Jesus was silent, in spite of the insults and accusations hurled at Him.  He knew the Truth; He is the Truth, and yet in the time of such upheaval, when humanity refused to listen, He said nothing. 

So I have to ask myself, what weight do my words carry?  Are they worth breaking the beautiful silence for?  Am I just speaking to hear my own voice; or is what I’m saying important enough, true enough, encouraging enough, loving enough to spend the breath that Heaven has given me?  Am I using my words to answer for my faith, to preach the gospel, to encourage, to lift up, to love?  Am I doing the work of the Kingdom with my voice, or am I just making noise in an already too-noisy world? 

What if, in the face of those who persecute or mock or taunt or anger us we were respectful, but silent?  What if, in the middle of being called to give an answer for what we believe, we answered truthfully and peacefully.  What if, instead of engaging in and therefore encouraging debased insult-slinging that masquerade as political debates, we calmly and encouragingly offer our position, instead of becoming heated and argumentative ourselves?  What if, in the interest of genuine love, we listened carefully and thoughtfully to what our opponents say; rather than always having our stock defense ready, before answering thoughtfully and gracefully?

What if, against all the angry, cruel, and spiteful rhetoric, we offered no insults, no demeaning tones, no haughty response.  What if we offered our opponents Truth, encouragement, and Love?

For surely, if Christ can still His righteous tongue through to the crucifixion, I can ignore the baiting on facebook; I can listen to the opinions of my fellows and not have to answer their rants.  I can realize that without face-to-face interaction, I am unlikely to affect anyone’s encounter of Truth.  And if I try to do so without love, then I have no right to in the first place.             

 

Joyfully attending the mourners

I have spent the past two weeks examining how joy can look through trials.  And I have landed where one should, when seeking this truth in scripture: God is sovereign.  Over both the good and the bad.   

Thus today, I will end this mini-series with a note for anyone who is not in time such as I, those who are dancing in the bright and open spaces.  Those who find themselves reveling in goodness.  For them, we look at Job’s friends and we can discern how to joyfully attend one who mourns.

Read: Job 2:1-13, 4:1-6:26

source

 

In Job’s case, the mourning we see is literal.  All his family, save his wife, has died.  His fortune decimated [which in that time and without children to attend him, made him a drain on society and even lower on the social food chain than widows and orphans]; his health suddenly deteriorated so that his is physically miserable every waking moment and unable to find respite in sleep.

Job’s friends, as is likely fitting when we look at chapters 4 through 6, get a bad rap more often than not.  And with our hindsight, with our knowledge of the end of Job’s story, it is easy to pin the moniker of “bad friend” on them.  However, we must examine their actions in sequence.  One of my favorite moments in the early chapters of Job comes in chapter 2, verses 11 through 13.  Job’s friends hear about what all has happened to him.  And they are compelled to go to him.  And comfort him.  And when they see him, they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights, because they see how great his suffering is. 

There is something in each of us that pulls us to our loved ones when they’re hurting.  An urgent feeling of needing to be where they are.  Not for any particular purpose, but to lend comfort with our physical proximity.  Job’s friends heed this, and go to where he is, to simply be there with him in his pain.  Once they are there, they don’t utter a word for seven days or nights.  They know there is nothing they can say to pierce this pain.  Words are too flimsy and whatever they might say at this point would only serve to undo whatever comfort their presence has brought.  Attending Job in silence is the only thing they can do.  And it is enough.    

I find that this is the mark of a good friend.  Someone who can show up, uninvited, and just be.  Someone who listens if the mourner is ready to speak, and waits if the mourner is not.  Someone who, with their physical proximity to the situation, validates the pain of the mourner; whose presences says, “This hurts.  And it’s okay that it does.”  These are the types of friends we all need; the type we should be.     

Yet there are times in life when one’s mourning may not seem as warranted.  You might find a friend mourning the loss of a dream [career, house, opportunity, fill in the blank].  And it might seem foolish to grieve, even slightly, for something they never had.  You may, in light of whatever situation you encountered, be tempted to list all the things that are right in their life at that time; trying to call their mind to blessings and set them in a spirit of thankfulness.  But we are not the arbiters of pain, of what hurts whom, nor how much.  Our duty, as friend and Christ follower, is to mourn with those who mourn; and to rejoice with those who rejoice.  To not pass judgment on what should or shouldn’t hurt, or how much, or for how long.  And to check every word that you think should come out of your mouth before you spew it.  Yes, there will be times when you can impart truth into a life in desperate need of it.  But carefully measure your words; because the ill-timed comment or the thoughtless lesson can do more damage and cause further separation [at least initially] than loving silence. 

Thus we can look to Job for our times of sorrow.  We can find that regardless, God is sovereign.  And in Job’s friends, we can see how to love a friend through their trial…and how not to as well.         

 

Who She Was...and Who She Wasn't

The Samaritan Woman at Jacob’s Well, Day 2

A Video Blog

Enjoying this study?  Here's a link to articles in this series: The Women Who Knew Jesus

 

Bibliography:

John 4:1-42

Walt Disney World’s “Hall of Presidents”: http://disneyworld.disney.go.com/parks/magic-kingdom/attractions/hall-of-presidents/

John Piper, “God Seeks People to Worship Him in Spirit and Truth (John 4:16-26),” Bethlehem Baptist Church, April 8, 1984.  http://www.soundofgrace.com/piper84/040884m.htm.

Cohick, Lynn H.  Women in the World of the Earliest Christians: Illuminating Ancient Ways of Life.  Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009.

Swidler, Leonard.  “Jesus in His Encounter with Women,” AFER.  13 (1971): 290-300. 

Touch, silence stretched out

With the absence of voice, touch has become my primary mode of communication.  A hand on a little shoulder to garner attention; fingers circled around wrists to slow movement and restrain the bounding-off that is inherent in children.   Hugs replace “I love you.”  Kisses instead of “have a good day.”  Holding hands for nearness, arms around shoulders for comfort, cuddling on laps is the stage for divesting the stories of the day. 

I have found that we laugh more on Mondays.  We are more connected.  There is more happiness in our day.  We more closely attend one another’s presence.  I have come to eagerly anticipate these days with fewer words and greater connections.

Yet, I am not usually the touchy one. 

I hug my children and kiss them; but in the busy flight of our non-Monday days, I don’t sit still with them on my lap much anymore.  And yet it is so obvious that they crave it.  They were made for it.  We all were.

Jesus, divinity incarnate, knew the desperate need in each person for touch.  As present before creation, he knew the tactile connection built into humanity (Colossians 1:15-20).  He healed the untouchables with his hands, restoring their connection to both community and the Divine.  He allowed his beloved friends to recline on his breast, washed their feet and allowed his to be washed as well.  Revelation promises that in the age to come, God will wipe every tear from every eye (7:17, 21:4).  Not merely dismiss these tears, not vaporize or impersonally dry them, or simply cause by supernatural power to stop. 

Wipe. 

The action requires a hand placed on a cheek; a thumb drawn across the most tender part of the face, a gentle caress across the delicate skin beneath the eyes.   The image given is God, touching every believer, personally and physically removing the physical outpouring of pain and sadness, healing the heart beneath.

Touch to heal.   

Today, I am thinking about the people for whom touch is abhorrent.  Those for whom touch has been hijacked and perverted; twisted and mauled into something vile, something best avoided at all costs.  We were all made to be touched, to touch others; but fallen humanity ruins even this.  I am praying for those for whom touch is repulsive.  Those for whom touch is frightening.  Those for whom touch is prayed against.

I am also praying, today, for those who are desperate for human contact, for the tactile connection to another beating heart.  For children who craved hugs, yet do not receive them.  For individuals who are wrapped up in their own worlds, with fortresses around their heart and person, growing bitter and stale as their days are spent without personal contact.  For couples who have fallen into a pattern of polite conversation and icy distance, the warmth of the other’s touch a fleeting memory.  For the widowed, who float about in a world of people with no tangible connection to comfort.   

Is there someone in your sphere that is screaming into the silence for touch?  Someone who literally aches for human contact?  There are times when words aren’t enough.   Sometimes, cupped hands, an embrace, held for what is societally prescribed as too long, ministers to greater depths of the soul the most eloquent litany.  Sometimes we must still our tongues and offer our arms.  For the deepest hurts require the greatest connections.

Today, I will begin to use my touch as Christ did: to comfort, to heal, to connect.  I will push myself outside of my barriers and give what has been given to me, what is needed in a sterile and disconnected world.  I will close my mouth, open my arms and let love prevail.     

    

     

Stand Against Silence

I don’t think that Invisible Children are naïve. I don’t think that President Obama was ever blind to this matter either: his own father, a Kenyan, hails from the Luo, the same tribal group that has suffered so much at the hands of Kony. My hunch – and hope – is that they see this campaign as a way to encourage wider and deeper questions about wholly inadequate governance in this area of Africa.

~Musa Okwonga, “Stop Kony,Yes.  But Don’t Stop Asking Questions.”

The filmmakers at Invisible Children probably did a few things wrong.  For starters, I wasn’t entirely comfortable watching a 3 year old absorb information about children being forced to kill their parents and then labeling Kony as a “bad guy.”  Granted, Kony is the bad guy in this story.  But so is the government that’s effectively ignored him for over 2 decades.  But, yeah, as I parent I realize that’s a hard topic to distill for a 3 year old.

That being said, the guy narrating the video had every reason to see Kony as the bad guy.  Jason Russell, Invisible Children’s co-founder, has a personal connection to the story he’s telling.  He’s been there.  He’s seen, and focuses the lens of his camera on, the children.  He’s watched a now-dear friend mourn the brother he saw killed.  Having an actual connection to that kind of hurt makes things real for people.

So when we, a nation of consumers daily bombarded with violent images and political rhetoric and heads full of our own criticism, balk and take up verbal arms against a grass-roots movement which is asking only that we mobilize our nation’s resources on behalf of a people who are too young to save themselves, I have to wonder: who are we?

Has our affinity for self-help so out-paced the basic principle of chivalry, of using our resources and strength on behalf of those in need, that our first reaction when thus approached, that we fold our arms and decry the requestees as war-mongers and financial parasites?  Really?  After checking the veracity of the story [yes, the entire world seems to agree that children are being kidnapped and forced to be soldiers and prostitutes], we honestly think the best course of action is to sling mud and stuff our hands into our pockets? 

Okay, so we don’t agree with the current Ugandan government.  I can get behind that (given the very minimum charge that they allowed Kony to continue doing what he does).  We don’t want the focus of this very non-American issue to become the non-profit organization that brought it to our attention.  Spectacular.  Don’t give them a dime.  But do give them props for bringing it to the attention of those of us with our heads buried in the sands of our own little worlds. 

Even with those qualifications, could we not, still, advocate that our very able military “advisement and support” contingents empower the people of Uganda to stop Kony and then install new government officials?  Not ones that we’ve chosen, but ones that Ugandans choose from among their own people?  As Americans, couldn’t we all get behind the idea of a government of the people, for the people…in Uganda?  So that the people of the Congo and neighboring regions might live without the fear of kidnapping, terrorist activities, and the worst kind of atrocities enacted upon innocent children?  Can’t we agree to use our resources and strength for the benefit of basic human rights?     

Isn’t that something we should all work towards?

E-mail your Senator.  It costs you nothing more than moments of your time, maybe a few missed status updates.  Let your congress-person know that you want Joseph Kony caught and tried for his actions.  Let him or her know that you support a Ugandan election that will allow for the people to genuinely chose who their leaders will be.  So that their children will be safe.  So that every person may have the most basic of rights: identity and safety, and the extravagancy of the freedom to choose whom they will follow.

And then you’re not financially backing any specific organization, nor are you favoring a government that has also enacted atrocities upon its people, if only by omission.  You’re advocating for those without a voice.  You’re saying that you support them having one.  You desire that all should be heard. 

You’re standing up against

silence.    

origin

Jesus said,

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

John 13:34-35

    

What the quiet teaches

I have a tongue that needs stilling.

That barbed, venomous weapon I wield so deftly against the ones for whom I have the greatest love, of whom I am charged with care and keeping.  My tongue rends hearts; scarring, cutting, leaving marks that can’t be seen, or undone.   

Monday, I tried to keep my tongue behind my teeth.  Little feet dawdled.  Little hands sought play instead of the tasks that propel us out the door to school and life.  Little eyes locked with mine in flat-out defiance.  “You-can’t-make-me-brush-my-teeth-if-you-can’t-talk.”  Shoes were missing, breakfasts sat uneaten; running up and down the stairs was more pressing than getting-out-the-door-so-we’re-not-late.  And my wild gesticulating, rigid fingers pointing from packs to little backs, miming the next steps, brought only quizzically cocked heads.  And more rebellious immobility.

I broke.  I opened my mouth and used my most effective weapon.  I stood, less than 2 hours into my fast, and smashed little heart pieces with the force of my words, the outpouring of my heart.  Little eyes bulged.  “You’re talking.  You’re not supposed to.”

“You promised God.”

How many times have I promised God?  How many nights have I lain in bed, lamenting the day?  Please, Father, give me another chance tomorrow.  A chance to love them better, the way you love me.  A chance to speak life, a chance to use words that build up; a chance to love better. 

And every time coming up short. 

A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.[1]

But that’s what Lent does.  It takes all my promises and strivings, and shows me where I come up short.  Lent is about dying.  It strips away at human effort and strength, until all that’s left is what’s underneath.  Rusted, rotting places that have to be uncovered in order to be worked on.  Lent is evidence of outward failure and destruction, so that the soul-bones beneath can be exposed and healed.    

God’s promises outlast mine.  God’s promises are fulfilled.

That’s where Lent leads.  To blood.  To the cross.  To a death. 

Human striving is never enough.  It all ends in death.  Lent leads us not only to death, but through it.  Through to the resurrection.  Through to life in grace.  

 A promise fulfilled.   

Glass promises, from my lips, will always break.  But universe-fabric promises will hold fast; because Love does not break.  The promise of Jesus’ life in exchange for mine.  For yours.  An absolute-eternal vow. 

Him for me.  Him for you. 

Love for brokenness.      

Life for death.  This is the way of Lent. 

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[1] Luke 6:45

A Less-than Human Silence

John Henry Fuseli, Silence

To begin with, Silent Mondays weren’t my idea.  But there has been something weighing heavily on my heart in recent semesters, and particularly in the past few weeks: the silencing of women’s voices in the greater body of Christ.  Though, even with the most cursory glance at my life, I readily admit: I don’t have it that bad.  I am pursuing a Masters of Divinity at a seminary that is ‘liberal’ enough to not only allow women to do so, but encourages them in this endeavor.  This education a dream of mine, but also the Officer’s for me; which makes it depreciating to only say that he supports me in it.  My church permits women to teach, has women on the leadership team, and in guiding the church, places as much value on the opinion of women as men.[1]  I can teach my children what and how I like.  I can call up my pastor, or any other pastor for that matter, whenever and about whatever I chose.  I can voice my opinion about practices or scriptural interpretation or spiritual development whenever I please.[2]  So, no; I don’t have it bad at all.

Which may raise the question: what’s the problem?

The problem is that, the closest church to my residence forbids its female congregants to seek pastoral counsel without the express permission of their husbands/fathers.  The problem is that at the 2012 Desiring God Pastor’s Conference hosted by John Piper, he claims that “God has given Christianity a masculine feel.  And being God, a God of love, he has done that for our maximum flourishing both male and female.”[3]  The problem is that the head pastor of the Mars Hill brand of churches, Marc Driscoll, explains that “[the Apostle] Paul is simply stating that when it comes to leading in the church, women are unfit because they are more gullible and easier to deceive than men.”[4]  Mr. Driscoll uses the covers of secular magazines in grocery store checkout lines as evidence to his point. One has to wonder if Mr. Driscoll considers Playboy, Maxim, or GQ covers as adequate frames of reference for the qualifications of men in church leadership.  The problem is that even in 2012, women are being told that they have nothing to offer outside of submission to male headship, thus alienating a generation of American and European women.  The problem is that we’ve tacked “submission to males” onto the gospel for women. 

A “Jesus and…” proposition for women.           

Of course, that’s just in the western church.  There’s an entire world of women who are considered less than human by their governments, their religions, their families.  Women who cannot leave the house without a male escort, girls who cannot attend school, brides who are burned, girls sold into prostitution, woman as slaves in the sex trade.  Women as chattle.  Women as property.  Women as less.  The first step in dehumanization is establishing inferiority.  When women and girls become less in any manner to their male counterparts, the way is made clear for subjugation and abuse.  Less intelligent, less abled, less worthy.

My voluntary silence will do nothing for the women trapped in these circumstances.  Subjugation, abuse, dehumanization won’t be stopped with the stilling of my voice.  Not talking will do nothing for the women attending Driscoll's or Piper’s churches.  It will not benefit the women in the pews up the street, nor allow women into leadership in my denominational organization.  My silence will do nothing.

But in the silence, I will pray. And I will listen.  With my muteness, I will teach my children that no voice should be quieted because of gender or ethnicity, that God created every single person as worthy and equal.  I will stand in silent solidarity with daughters of the King of Kings who wonder if they are ever heard; women outside the faith who have never known their worth to the Creator of the Universe.             

I will be quiet, be still, remain mute, in anticipation of the day when the restoration of creation is realized; and every person who has so chosen, may lift his or her voice to worship the Savior of humanity.    

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[1] Though, our parent organization does not recognize women’s leadership, nor will it permit them to hold the title “elder.”

[2] Granted, though these are technically “allowed” me, there are scriptural parameters about when/how any believer should speak in services; and one must exhibit the maturity of self-control delineated therein for the benefit of the body and those outside the faith who have come to hear the word of God.  1 Cor 14:26-40

[3] The Christian Post online: http://www.christianpost.com/news/john-piper-god-gave-christianity-a-masculine-feel-68385/  [accessed 2/27/2012 at 11:23am]

[4] Mark Driscoll, Church Leadership: Explaining the Roles of Jesus, Elders, Deacons, and Members at Mars Hill, Mars Hill Theology Series (Seattle, WA: Mars Hill Church, 2004).   Go here for an extended quote.