Incoherent musings

I’ve been hearing the same thing for a few years now. In fact, I’ve been hearing it since I was a sophomore in College. It has always bugged me a little bit. It’s this small phrase that seems to place me within a certain category of people. It assumes a certain immaturity of faith on my part, and it is almost connotes a certain superiority of the one who says it. In fact, this little phrase scares me. Allow me to explain, this is little phrase is always said by an older adult, and usually by one for whom I have great admiration. And, it is always said in a certain context.

Over the past couple years, I have come to believe that the Kingdom of God is more than getting into heaven, more than forgiveness of sins, and more than individual piety. I hold the conviction that the church is not God’s purpose for the world but merely an instrument to bring about his purpose. I believe Jesus came preaching a coming reality that is both present and still to come. It is a Kingdom of Peace: one that restores and re-creates; one that binds people together in mutual service and compassion. It is a Kingdom of peculiarity. It forms a community and it is in that community that we begin to understand the sanctification of the community as a foretaste to the Kingdom. And it is my belief that this Kingdom, especially in the light of Jesus’ teachings, is inherently political. For how can a formed community not be?

It is this last statement that usually gets me a little trouble (not that trouble is a bad thing: is not the nature of the church supposed to express the radical nature of the gospel?). My conviction that the Kingdom of God is actually a way of life, the way of Jesus, has led me to be involved in war protests, open discussions about stewardship issues in the church and University, support for the poor and homeless, and multiple letters and gatherings about the injustices around the world. As a result, I usually get this little phrase thrown my way: “I used to be just like you.” Sometimes it is coupled with another phrase, “But you’ll grow out of it.” Either way, the point is made that I am like most young people: newly education, immature in that education, an idealist, optimist, and heart-strong. At least, that’s what they’re thinking.

At the same time they think that, I am thinking about the divorce of the spiritual from the practical. These words are from the same mouths that say we are “The people of the book,” but where in that book do we learn of a community of a disembodied faith? How are we able to say we have our sins forgiven and yet cannot forgive our neighbor? How can we say that God is a God of peace and still pay war taxes with a clear conscience? How are we a distinct people if we cannot even show a consistent ethic of life: we say life is precious and support anti-abortion laws but are unwilling to uphold life’s ‘preciousness’ when it comes to the death penalty?

My church denomination began within the inner city working among the ones who had nothing. They worked with the drunkards and homeless, the foreigner and hungry. They could not justify spending money on massive buildings when our brothers were dying on the streets. The stories that come from my tradition during this time give me hope and inspire me. Unfortunately, over the years, we have moved from the inner city to the suburbs. Drinking is now just a standard to attain holiness rather than abstinence to support any kind of social change. I’ve been given a lot of crap because I don’t mind hanging out with those that drink. Apparently I’m not supposed to have relationships with people that do. But I think this is foreign to the Kingdom of God.

I know I’m still immature and have a lot of growing to do. In fact, I think I’ll be growing in my faith for the rest of my years. I expect nothing less than continual learning and testing what God is doing. But to hear these words that ‘they used to be just like me’ scares me. It makes me not want to be like them. I want to be more like Ron Sider who has developed a program of holistic ministry, one that teaches of the spiritual and temporal as inherently dependent. Yes, God offers us forgiveness for the wrongs we have committed, but those wrongs are often done to others. God’s forgiveness helps us move to healed relationships with others. His grace teaches us to bestow grace on others, and not just the ones we like. We are taught that God’s heart are for those who are broken and struggling.

A lot of times this brokenness comes from some of our institutions. I am pretty sure that this endless ‘war on terror’ is almost institutionalized. It is never ending. Capitalism is also inherently evil. What do we do with a system that feeds off greed? We see the effects of it as the rich just accumulate more and the poor can’t get out of poverty. Remember, there are never oppressed without oppressors.

I could go on, but this is already rather long for a singular blogpost. I just want to say one more thing. In my reading of scripture, I find that Jesus’ message is more directed toward change in the here and now rather than waiting for some miraculous trumpet blast that will usher in complete peace and restoration in a moment of divine intervention. I think this is part of the church’s responsibility: to be a foretaste of God’s reconciling love. In other words, we are forming an alternative community in the face of the dominant powers (I'm stealing my words from Brueggemann).