Category Archives: Faith

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3 ways I’d fix the Church if I could

We left our church over a year ago, and we have a new church home we love, but I still often find myself heartbroken over the old one. I wanted to fix the church. I loved those people, I think they genuinely loved God and others, but we had to leave because they were missing three things—transparency, freedom, and grace. Without those, you can have a very nice religion, be pious and do good. But you will always have the danger of hypocrisy, legalism, and destruction, and you will never have the gospel of Christ.

Transparency/Hypocrisy

A church has to be honest about who they are. If you’re legalistic, OK: be legalistic. If, bottom line, a church holds that there are a set of inviolable rules, and the ultimate expectation is that you will agree with their definition of the rules and follow all of their rules, then put the rules on your website.

We saw this over and over again when we were church shopping last year, and I think it comes from a sincere place. Everyone knows Christian faith is not supposed to be about introducing division over trivial matters, and so they really want to be their best selves and put the important tenants of the faith out there as who they are. The danger, though, is when it crosses over from “aspiring toward our best nature” into “appearing as something we’re not”, which is very near to the type of hypocrisy that Christ condemned in the most scathing possible terms.

Better to just own our prejudices and be forthcoming about the ways we know we’re missing the mark.

Freedom/Legalism

I’ve written before about Christian freedom, which means freedom from Hebrew law. Not just parts of Hebrew law, scripture doesn’t support that. It’s all or nothing. And yet, our modern American Church often preaches the need for certain people to obey certain parts of the law, while we ourselves enjoy Christian freedom from those other parts of Hebrew law that would have affected us. This, again, Christ unequivocally condemned.

Legalism and freedom are opposites. If we must live under some law, we must live under all of it. I think most of us would prefer freedom. And if we assert that obeying law is essential to pleasing God, then we throw in our lot with the hypocritical religious leaders of Christ’s day, rather than with Christ himself.

Grace/Destruction

And yet in all of this— important though transparency and freedom are— it is the factual absence of grace that is the death knell of a church. Oh, churches know the word “grace”. Thousands of them even name themselves after it. But in today’s Church, many of us have lost the real import of the word.

How often have we heard it preached that grace means second chances? The notion that no one is too far gone? That we always have room for the return of a sinner who repents? Certainly it’s easy to imagine the opposite world, in which a one-time sinner is never welcomed back, however much they amend their ways. So the principle of second chances is real and good and correct.

But it’s not the same as grace.

Because if grace is only second chances, then Christ didn’t accomplish anything and notion of a “Christian grace” is meaningless. See, they had second chances already. Even the Pharisees had them. Christ’s words: “You teachers of the law and Pharisees… you travel over land and sea to win a single convert…” Who were those converts going to be, if not people who weren’t Pharisees already? “Just clean up your act, make some changes, start living like us…” That is the Pharisee notion of second chances: acceptance because you deserve it now. What Christ sacrificed to buy us is something different: acceptance in the knowledge that none of us “deserves it”.

This kind of grace only has one restriction:

  • Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?
  • This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.
  • Do not judge, or you too will be judged.
  • With the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

Simple as that. Grace means, a way is open to God in spite of all shortcomings—ours, theirs, anyone’s— if we will only offer that chance to others too, as if our lives depended on it. Cleaning up your act is great, but it has nothing to do with grace. In tying the two together, many of today’s churches set a bushel basket over the true light of God’s transforming redemption, tying up burdens and placing obstacles, in a way that destroys others and themselves.

If I had to choose just one way to fix the Church today, it would be that.

rainbow after the storm

“Nothing to shout about”, or, my four-month break

It was July 4th. That was when I decided I needed a break. Four months. Important things have happened in that time. Much of it never made the news.

  • We found a new church home. My daughter was hugely relieved as she gets attached easily and “church dating” has been really hard on her.
  • I returned to Yosemite for the first time since my childhood best friend was killed there in a rock climbing accident in 2005. It was even more beautiful than I remembered.
  • In Monterey, my wife and I spent 10 hours battling seasickness in a tiny boat to see an actual, live albatross in flight overhead, something I had wanted to do since I read The Rime of the Ancient Mariner at age 12.
  • Within three days in late September, two of my favorite bloggers each posted that they are hanging it up, one for a break, and the other, for good.
  • My family witnessed, together, an outcome in the World Series unprecedented since before my daughter’s great-grandparents were born.
  • And yes, our country chose a new president, and I have sat with various friends through all their different reactions: some elated, some terrified.

I have posted before about sabbath: how important, and yet how little valued it is in our day. Especially for those who believe in their work, it is easy to justify the never-ending, bit-by-bit deplenishment of spirit that comes from doing just one more small thing.

Important things have been happening in our society. I know what I’m supposed to do if I want to be a successful writer: I need to write about what’s hot. I need to tap into the zeitgeist. I can only be relevant by connecting with an audience, and if this is a hard, cynical age, marked by division and mistrust, then I need to toss a coin, choose my side, and start shouting.

That is what I could not bring myself to do. As I stood on the sidelines these past four months, witness to all the sound and fury, I could not help remembering the words from Shakespeare’s King Lear: “What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent.”

I care passionately about what is happening in our society. I believe this is a historic moment. And I believe, at a time like this, that some things— like how we treat those who disagree— are more important than which side wins.

Some hear me calling for reconciliation and mutual respect, and they hear only the voice of white privilege, brimming with complaisance and naïveté. Some hear the voice of betrayal. Some hear nice words but with no real power. But I do not believe that Christ was complacent or naïve, or that bipartisanship equals betrayal, and as for those “nice words”: history has shown they are the only words with any real power to heal.

look of anger and fear

A humble alternative to anger and fear

It’s been a rough month. A friend recently reflected on it all by observing that she’s never had to rely so heavily on the “angry” and “sad” Facebook reactions. I haven’t been blogging much, because it’s been hard to know what to do with that anger and fear, other than talking about it all amongst ourselves on Facebook.

Let’s take Brock Turner. I’ve got nothing to add to that conversation. The stories that need to be told now are going to come from those whose voices have previously been silenced. I believe that the gospel message can have life-saving relevance to sexual victims. But I am not the one to offer it to them.

Or Pulse Nightclub. That was a hate crime against the marginalized… the very situation in which Christ’s words should be most relevant. But so many others have used my sacred texts to beat up those same people for so long, how can I now use them in the ways they were intended, for comfort and compassion and healing? It’s like the Billy Joel lyric, “If I only had the words to tell you, if you only knew how hard it is to say, when the simple lines have all been spoken, and the radio repeats them every day.”

I haven’t wanted to speak recently, because, if I’m being honest, it’s just easier not to. So many see the calm, gentle messages of the gospel as clueless: out-of-touch when confronted with actual pain or suffering (that, for example, is the entire plot of the hit musical “Book of Mormon“) as if Christ’s death and resurrection had included no taint of pain or suffering.

Loud voices today are shouting that given our reality, other than total disengagement, fear/anger is the only possible response. But that is a lie. Other engaged responses exist. Better ones. Ones that have power for good instead of evil.

Christ on trial was not afraid or angry, but silent. That doesn’t mean he didn’t understand what was happening.

Christ on the cross was certainly alone and in agony, but even then he chooses words— not of fear/anger— but of forgivenessreconciliationredemptiongrace.

If the Bible is wrong, if we were never made for other places than this, if the notion of heaven is mistaken, if the notion of God is mistaken, then by all means: be afraid if you like. It makes sense if this world is all there is.

But for those who agree with me that God is real, we cannot be the leading voices crying out for personal safety. Anyway we have no control over that, and meanwhile we have more important things to do.

However bad the neighborhood may get, however few we may become, however cold the love of most may grow, some of us at least will always be here crying out the gospel message: peace not anger, love not hate, good not evil.

I look around me, and I see the love burning quietly in so many hearts, and believe the promise of scripture: the light will always shine in the darkness, and the darkness will never overcome it.

Christian hypocrite

Why I am a Christian Hypocrite

My wife and I like to tour open houses. Mostly we come away with a deeper appreciation of our own modest home (there are a lot of weird houses on the market), but there was one a few weeks ago… hoo boy. Three stories. Spectacular panoramic views from every floor. Five bedrooms, a game room,  an office, a gorgeous yard. And the asking price was “only” $2.5 million! I’d be lying if I said I didn’t go home and do the math. (Shocker: we couldn’t afford it.)

But now, in my imagination, it’s 2025. My Christian bestseller is in its third printing, and I’ve got the money for a house like that. I buy it. I move in. I enjoy myself and live in fabulous luxury, leaving undone much good that could, instead, have been done with that money… just one more Christian hypocrite.

Notions of hypocrisy and greed run rife through the modern outsider’s view of Christianity, and not without reason. Our faith calls on us to give, yet only 3% of us tithe and only a quarter give anything. While championing marriage and fidelity, many of us are unfaithful and divorce. We ask for grace when we fall short but give none when others do. I have to stop and ask myself… where have we gone wrong?

I am not going to pretend that I can answer for the misdeeds of all professed Christians, but perhaps there is some insight to be gained simply from examining my own. Do I live up to the teachings of scripture? Do I even practice what I myself preach? And if not, can my faith still have any value?

Not living up to scripture

Jesus requires me to deny myself, take up my cross, and follow him. Scripture assures me that friendship with the world amounts to enmity with God. In the zeal of his faith, John the Baptist moved out to the wilderness and lived on locusts and wild honey.

Obviously, apart from Shane Claiborne, few modern American Christians make such a commitment. Certainly I don’t. My modest house is a fabulous palace by the standards of much of the world. I own enough clothes and shoes to fill a closet. I am never seriously hungry. I have not committed the full weight of my existence my pursuit of Christ’s teachings, and it is reasonable to question whether that proves my faith is hollow.

My only defense is, some is more than none. I am doing my best. We give less than we possibly could, but more than a lot of people, and we do that because we believe the scriptures that urge us to do good in the world. I try to be patient and loving and kind. I’m coming along. I used to be a lot worse at it than I am now, and the Bible gives me a lot of tools I wouldn’t otherwise have.

It is possible to quote passages from the Bible that point to the total commitment it requires, and then to point to the shortfall in my own life as a fatal flaw in my faith. OK. But then what? I am not going to renounce such good as I am doing. I am not going to repent of my efforts to be more Christlike.

Instead, I will live my faith like I live every other area of my life. I believe in Capitalism, and don’t feel I must abandon it because in real life it needs commonsense regulation and a social safety net. I believe in the scientific method even though there are things we still don’t understand. Despite its many flaws, I believe in my country (though this election cycle may not be bringing out our best). There may be many parts of our lives— friendships, family, faith— that, though little and broken, are still good. Yeah. Still good.

To be continued…

Next week: Not practicing what we preach

Baby boy (would be nine years old)

Nine years old today, if only

Today is the ninth birthday of our sweet baby boy. We spent it at the cemetery. We knelt. The effort that should have been spent daubing antiseptic on a scraped knee, instead we spent darkening the letters of his headstone so they would be more legible. We put out lots of toys and little ceramic figurines and flowers. It looked nice afterward. We took a picture.

After nine years, a part of me has come to love it there. It is a peaceful and beautiful place. No one tells you to hurry. No one asks you what’s wrong. No one asks you why you look sad. No one is going to get their day ruined if you answer. No one tells you how you should feel or where you should be in your grieving process by now or what would make them more comfortable with your loss. When you have an angel baby, after as many years and as many losses as it has been for us now, there is value in peace. There is value in not having to pretend for a little while. Pretending, holding it together, smiling politely… these things have become so second nature for us now we often don’t even notice them. Until we get to the cemetery and remember that day.

That day we had to do the unthinkable. The day no parent should ever have to face. The day we woke up and had to put one foot out of the bed, and then the other, and every fiber of our being resisting every simple act because of the knowledge that the only place they were leading to that day was the cemetery, where we would have to say our last goodbyes to our sweet, precious, irreplaceable, beautiful baby.

Today, after nine years, it was nice to go back to that place and feel just a little bit of belonging to him. We wondered what he would be interested in now. Would he enjoy theater like his sister? Would he be a boy scout like his dad? Would he love getting his hands dirty in the garden like his mom? We dreamed those things. We sang our favorite hymns. We sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow“.

I know some members of our “club” have been beaten up with pious-sounding platitudes by “religious” friends and relatives uncomfortable with the way our grieving is being done. I sometimes think of all of you when we are at the cemetery, but for us, in those times, our Christian faith is never far away. There is such an immediate, visceral connection now to the pain of sacrifice and loss, an understanding of what it actually cost Christ to so graciously and freely pronounce the words, “Your sins are forgiven.”

We wanted to stay longer. The time we are allowed there always seems as if it is used up so quickly. We love the sun, the flowers, the quiet, the tears, the sense of weird belonging. We love so many things about our life. Our sweet angel baby is one of them, and today is his day.

Happy birthday, sweet baby. Mommy and Daddy love you. We miss you. We never stop thinking about you. You would be nine years old today.

Spring renewal

Spring renewal, or, starting again when it’s too late

I had a really bad breakup once. I thought we were going to get married; I had structured my whole life for months around that plan. Then I asked her and she said no.

When you are that wrong about something that important in your life, it makes you question everything, like, “What else am I utterly clueless about?” And that was what I did: my job, where I lived, my understanding of God… everything was on the table. This went on for months. Fall turned to Winter turned to Spring, and then, as it drew close to Easter, and I travelled to visit my parents for the holiday.

Sunday morning, my dad (not normally an early riser) woke me up: “C’mere! I wanna show you something.” And he led me out onto the porch, where we looked out over a dew-covered field at the sun just peeking over the horizon, the whole sky awash in the glory of the sunrise.

My dad and I have not always had the easiest relationship, but as we stood there together, the two of us just taking it in, thinking about the Easter message of resurrection, renewal, new life from the ashes, it felt like a new beginning. It felt as if the whole world were being born again. I didn’t have to be tied to a failed relationship, to past difficulties, to anything that defines me in ways that damage me. I could leave all of that in the grave and start afresh.

We always have that chance. The message of Christ is that, sometimes, there must be death in order for there to be life:

  • Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over.
  • For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his.
  • Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.
  • If anyone belongs to Christ, there is a new creation. The old things have gone; behold, everything is made new!

The worst mistake we can make is to be looking always backwards at “when we had that chance…” Yes, there are missed chances, but there are new chances too. There is no “back in my day”. If you are still alive, then today is your day.

Today is the first day after Easter. Whatever it is that you missed in the past can be in your future too.

Start now.

Christ is risen.

The end is not “the end”.

Victory: New Year's resolution

How a New Year’s resolution can rescue your soul

Some folks are down on the New Year’s resolution, but I am a big fan. At the heart of any resolution, there is a spirit of transformation, which is one of scripture’s favorite topics:

  • “The old has passed away. Behold! The new has come.”
  • “See, I am doing a new thing! I am making a way in the wilderness.”
  • “He said, ‘I am making all things new.'”

The sense that a new year brings new promise— a new hope, a chance to leave behind the mistakes of the past and start fresh— these are all principles that originated with Christ. Before that, there were two categories of people: the worthy, and the fallen. Once you had strayed from the path, there was no recovery, and the “worthy” took every opportunity to make sure you knew it. As my friend April Kelsey recently put it, “You became a cup of spit, a licked candy bar, a white sheet rolled in the mud. Consumed. Polluted. Spent.”

This view is still held today by the Pharisees among us who have missed the point of Christ. But that is my point: they have missed the point. If, today, you are one of the “fallen”— if you have made some mistake so horrible, if you have strayed from the path so far, if you are carrying some monkey on your back from which you can never be free— then there is good news: you can be free.

The “Big Book” of Alcoholics Anonymous opens with a letter from a doctor, describing a patient “…of a type I had come to regard as hopeless… He acquired certain ideas concerning… a Power which could pull chronic alcoholics back from the gates of death.” Many of us know of AA’s “Twelve Steps”, but the heart of the recovery that had been missed by so many before is captured in Step Two: “We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”

As I have written before:

Whatever may be wrong in our lives, don’t we say, “It’s my problem, it’s up to me to fix it?” But the truth is, no matter who you are, no matter how powerful and clever and creative you are, you didn’t create your sin by yourself, and you are not going to solve it by yourself… whatever is causing destruction in your life, more likely than not, there is a multi-billion dollar industry supplying it to you.

No matter what rut you are stuck in, another way is open to you. That was my story. My burden was sexual sin, and my cross was soul-crushing loneliness. When I finally encountered a true scriptural perspective… when I finally could understand that the Bible’s urgings against “sin” were not meant to control me and crush my spirit, but to offer me a way of escape from the very thing that was destroying me… when I realized that Christ had given his life to make that way available to me… that was a new day. That day was not like all the others where I simply determined to “do better”.

So this year, when you make your resolution, the same one you have made so many years before, when you grimly grit your teeth and resolve this time to succeed, “knowing” at the back of your mind that it’s all pointless, that it’s going to be just like all the other times, that you are going to fail… do something different. Quit treasuring up your secret shame and let in the outside air. Others have found the path, and so can you. You cannot find it by yourself. You cannot find it without faith that it is there. But it is there. I know it, because it happened to me.

This year, let your resolution be that you will find it too.

Gift from a homeless man

Christmas blessing from a homeless man

This year, my family and I started off our Christmas morning the way we always do: we go around to the homeless in our neighborhood, greet them warmly and wish them Merry Christmas, offer them a simple gift… water bottle, extra socks, nothing fancy. Every year, we are blown away by the joy and gratitude, but this time something special happened, and I want to tell you about it.

Why we do it

Christmas is Jesus’ birthday, and we give gifts out of a literal take on the scripture that says, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did for me.” Caring for each other, and especially for the poor, is very near to the heart of the Christian message and is mentioned multiple times throughout the bible, but especially in the New Testament:

Talk about homeless people in our society is usually about “solving the homeless problem”. Some of this conversation is conducted from the compassionate perspective of seeing everyone safe and warm at night, but that is the minority. More at issue, most of the time, is the fact that our society’s nice, clean, and well-dressed don’t like homeless people. You know the arguments: They smell bad. They are a nuisance. They are mentally ill, possibly criminals, potentially violent. Like all stereotypes, there may be elements of truth in all of that, but they loom much larger in imagination than they do in actual fact, and meanwhile much good is left undone out of fear.

How we do it

I’m a parent too. I’m not about putting my family in danger any more than you are. It’s not that hard to be sensible. We’re in a group. We’re in public places in broad daylight. We’re using common sense about whom to approach and praying over the whole process. We’re not “solving homelessness” and we’re not trying to. Yes, we also donate to causes that provide real structural support to the homeless, but Christmas morning isn’t about that.

In the hundreds of conversations I have had with homeless people, the #1 need that emerges again and again is simply to have their humanity acknowledged. The late Brennan Manning, author of The Ragamuffin Gospel, told a story about when he was homeless (due to alcoholism), and a woman once scolded her daughter away from approaching him, saying, “We don’t even look at that! That is just filth over there! That’s all that is.”

Contrast to the time when my daughter was younger, maybe 5, and she and I were speaking to a homeless man who seemed sad. She spontaneously hugged him, and he immediately began to weep.  The grateful look of shock and relief on his face is one I will never forget. We can’t always give to the homeless, we can’t always hug them, but a look in the eye and a sincere smile do 90% of the job and cost us nothing.

What we receive

Many times, the homeless that we visit on Christmas morning want to give us a gift in return. One year, when a lady found out that my daughter loves to read, she dug out a well-traveled copy of her favorite book, Black Beauty, and joyfully presented it to her. This year, we received a work of art traced through with scriptural wisdom: the word “full” forming a bridge across faith, hope, and love, making them come “full” circle. Our “word(s)” becoming a double-edged “(s)word”. The young man who had drawn it sat with us, patiently, excitedly, teasing out, teaching. We left the encounter in a glow of spiritual discovery as profound as after any sermon.

So things to remember: first, spiritual wisdom is often conveyed in the humblest vessel. It is still very much true today that God chooses the so-called “weak” and “foolish” in order to shame the worldly “wise”. Second, the Prayer of Saint Francis says it best, “It is in giving that we receive.” In what we call “generosity”, we are often the ones who gain the most.

Stressed & broke at Christmas

Overwhelmed & broke: 3 survival tips for this season of joy

My family and I love this time of year: the lights, the elf,  the movies and music and cold days, the time with family… Surprisingly for a blog about Jesus, most of my enjoyment at this time of year comes, not from “churchy stuff”, but from regular old beauty and joy and kindness, mixed in with a healthy dose of beloved traditions and just a dash of Christmas magic. The “Jesusiness” is more like Galadriel’s power in Lothlorien: you can see and feel it everywhere, but it’s right down deep where you can’t lay your hands on it.

We all know, though, that there’s a dark side to this favorite time of year as well. A friend’s recent Facebook posting captured it nicely:

So it is 10 pm and I just stopped helping with homework! My sink is full of dishes, I have no clean panties, I need to pay bills, I need to do xmas shopping, I need to wash my face, I need to check on the elf and I have spin class at 5:30…my Dad was at my house…I worked from 8 to 5….my husband is traveling for work AGAIN……blessed, life is good but this type of schedule does not make for a happy me… so if I seem short with you and need some alone time, let me have it!!

Is there anyone who can’t relate to that? All the ordinary stresses and pressures of life seem magnified at Christmas. As I thought about it, it occurred to me: it’s the application of that “deep Jesusiness” that gives me the ability to suck all the marrow out of the season without going crazy or going broke. Here are three specific tips for doing just that.

Financial Peace

Used to be, every year, my Christmas excitement was flavored with just an undercurrent of dread. So many expenses are non-optional, right? They’re traditions! Travel for the family Christmas party (including gifts for everyone there), having a roast for Christmas dinner, ice skating,  Disneyland! “Christmas costs what it costs.” I used to get a mental image, running my American Express card through that reader slot, that it would be on fire when it came out.

That doesn’t happen any more. We finally figured out how to stop overspending when we took Dave Ramsey’s “Financial Peace University” in 2013. It turns out you can say no to some of that stuff at Christmas.

  • Offer to stop exchanging gifts with adult siblings. The first year, my sister and brother-in-law wrapped up an empty box and labeled it, “The gift of nothing… for the man who has everything.” It was one of my favorite presents ever.
  • Start new, affordable traditions. Now we visit local light displays instead of Disneyland, and a local Christmas street parade instead of ice skating.
  • To limit spending: fear the credit card. We take cash out of the bank, separate it into envelopes, and when they run out, that’s it. Cash may seem risky, but the fact is we could misplace it all the first day and still lose less that we used to overspend every year.

A lot of the obligations we had to live up to, it turns out, were only in our minds at best, or were just ostentatious showing off at worst.

Take Sabbath

Two sisters were having Jesus over for dinner. Can you imagine getting the house clean enough for him?? One sister (Martha) was frantically running around doing all the work; the other one (Mary) blew it all off and just came in the living room to hang out. When Martha angrily demanded Mary come help, Jesus told her no, Mary’s the one doing it right.

That’s us at Christmas. The desire to be Instagram-perfect drives us to deplete our emotional reserves and then some. Just don’t. At work, when it’s time to be home with my loving family, I am rarely at a good stopping place. Those are what I call “lift your hands” days: just stop typing, push back your chair from the desk, and walk away. Not everything is done. It’s OK.

Sabbath is for us. It happens in the midst of our work, not after every possible task is finished. There is no work so important it can’t pause for the good of our souls, even harvesting before the frost or healing the sick… certainly decorating for Christmas.

Give Grace

It’s a cliché, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.” Doubly so at Christmas. As we celebrate, a lot of people are heartsick for how it should have been, and they don’t wear signs. At a minimum this time of year, be willing to believe the best of the people God puts into your path, and be willing to love them in his name.

When we think of charity at Christmas, everyone knows about food for the hungry & coats for the needy, but what about a sincere smile and a heartfelt “thank you” for that harried grocery clerk? Or an extra $5 in the tip for that server, never mind that the cook burned your toast? What about asking that coworker, “How are you today?” and investing the 90 seconds to actually listen to the answer?

This Christmas, you may not need to house that pregnant couple who couldn’t get a room at the inn, but there are many simple acts of mercy that are just as important. In the end, that may be the most Jesus-y way to honor the season of all.

Christmas wishes with family

15 Christmas wishes for saving the world (especially #5)

This Christmas, I don’t want any stuff. What I want is our society to be a whole different way. Here are my Christmas wishes:

I wish we would judge one another based on others we get to know, not others we only hear about from people just like us.

I wish our leaders wouldn’t refer to themselves as “Christian” unless they want to learn about sacrificial love and follow the example of Christ.

I wish it wasn’t so hard to agree that our society is too violent, and that responding with more violence will not solve that.

I wish we weren’t so angry.

I wish that different people would sit down together in peace more often and talk; we might  realize that we are all the same.

I wish we could figure out health care.

I wish we would encourage one another to face our fears. Our easy, natural reaction is to separate from those we fear, but this only makes the fear grow.

I wish that Christians could overwhelmingly be known as the ones speaking the heart of Christ.

I wish we could all be calling out the need to shelter the poor and the destitute, that none of us were the ones walking past in the street with our heads down. (I was hungry and you fed me…)

I wish we were the champions of peace, lamenting the violence in our society, that none of us were the ones asserting the only solution is to kill them before they kill us. (All who draw the sword…)

I wish we could be the warm and gentle voice of love and healing to all, not the angry voice of condemnation over some but not others, as if God sees any difference. (All fall short of the glory of God…)

I wish we could be full of grace. (By the same measure you use…)

I wish that we could be emissaries of startling mercy toward people we’re supposed to hate. (Which of these was a neighbor to him…?)

I wish we, especially, would be known as those who love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.

Hate is not going away. Misunderstanding is not going away. Prejudice is not going away. But all of those things are evils to be shunned, not blessings to be embraced. This time of year, we Christians celebrate a new hope, the birth of a savior, good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people. What were the Christmas wishes of the angels that night? “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

That is my wish today for you, and for us all, as well.