On Being an Overweight(ed) Pastor

Scott Wesley Brown’s song says, “If He carried the weight of the world upon His shoulders, I know my brother that He will carry you.” I believe that to be true. I believe He will also carry me, and the burdens I am choosing to carry as well. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t be crushed down into nothingness between the load I’m carrying and the shoulders carrying me.

One symptom of the current crushing circumstances is that even my attempts to list the issues I’m facing keeps failing. Not because I can’t make the list. I just can’t bring myself to include the list here. And yet, if I don’t list them, my friends, family, congregation, colleagues, and community members will all assume that they are among the burdens I’m carrying. They’re probably right. If you’re reading this, and I know your circumstances, and those needs are not among the ones I’m feeling crushed by at this particular moment, it’s only because they’ve temporarily slipped my mind.

But those needs are not the problem that is crushing me. The primary problem crushing me is me. My hope in posting this somewhat personal introspection is that it might be helpful to you. Among all of those described above there are some who will also, from time to time (if they’re serving Christ and others authentically, or simply being perceptive of the world in which we live) will feel the weight, the pressure, the strain, the fatigue, and the folding-breaking-crushing that would seem to grind them down until they were indistinguishable from the dust on which they stand…were it not for the shoulders of Jesus beneath them. (And if you do not have the shoulders of Jesus beneath you, get there as soon as possible. He’s open 24/7, and is personally taking your calls.) Therefore, I am offering this self-diagnosis and prescription to those who may find themselves in similarly overwhelming circumstances.

There are two primary challenges I am facing in each particular need; and two considerations that lead me to the course of treatment I am trying to apply.

The two challenges relate to the ministry calling I accepted on September 11, 1983, my first Sunday in my first posting as pastor. In Acts 6, it’s called “prayer and the ministry of the word,” and it includes the realities of the practical as well as spiritual needs facing the community there. In that passage, specific tasks  were delegated to certain groups and individuals. But every area of ministry appears to have been encompassed in the focus of “prayer and the ministry of the word.” It could hardly be simpler. But I manage to mess it up, and that results in carrying what threatens to be a crushing load. “Prayer?” I pray, claiming to trust Christ to intervene on behalf of those in need, and then anxiously seek to imagine what I can do to alleviate their pain, improve their finances, comfort them in their losses, and bring them healing and wholeness (as well as retributive justice against those who tried to break them). “Ministry of the word?” I carry the word (written, but Living, too, I hope) to each one, and yet neglect to gather them together so that what they have learned might be shared with others in need (as though it can only be accurately applied through this one mind-mouth conglomerate).

The apparent simplicity of those two challenges would seem to lead to an equally simple solution. But two considerations complicate it a bit. First, there are the various ways in which time management, delegation, and simply-saying-no are recommended (rarely with subtlety). Delegation is a part of the calling, in that others need to be equipped for the work of ministry, which includes actually allowing them to do something. But I believe that when God presents us with needs, He is setting up divine appointments for us, and we are called to take every ministry opportunity the Lord provides. Thus, I can’t support the time management/delegation/“just-say-no” model scripturally.

Second, then, further complicating my desire not to be overly burdened, are the ministry models of Christ and His earliest disciples. Even the Apostle Paul, advantaged as he was by being estranged from his family of origin as well as, presumably, unmarried, noted that ministry was a crushing experience. And yet he also points out that despite the afflictions, perplexities, and even persecutions he experienced, “we are…not crushed…not despairing…not forsaken…not destroyed.” (II Corinthians 4:8-9) Why not?

Part of the reason Paul can confidently assert that the burdens won’t grind him to dust is that he believes he will maintain the proper focus in ministry: the power of the resurrected Christ through the leading and ministry of the Holy Spirit. In short, if I have to come up with solutions for all the circumstances encountered by everyone I care for…I will always come up short, end up running on empty, and rob them of the real resources available to them in Christ alone. Not that I don’t get to apply wise counsel, or deliver some groceries, or do any of the other practical things God has equipped me to do. But my primary focus is supposed to be prayer and the ministry of the word. By that, I understand my job to include not only praying and preaching, but to teach others to develop their own conversation with God (to Him in prayer, from Him in His written word, as well as in the lessons learned by following His Living Word, Jesus Christ, in fellowship with His body, the Church, in a local congregation of others with many of the same needs we each experience).

So, in whatever circumstance others may be facing, in addition to whatever other resources I may be able to apply as part of my calling, I need to do two things. First, pray with them, and not just for them. This means they get to hear what God has taught me about prayer, and they get to hear what God is teaching them in prayer. Second, beyond applying the word as I know it to their circumstances, rushing from one to another in order to be the conduit for God’s word and Word in their lives, I need to more authentically apply my belief that God works in and through the entire body of Christ. This means inviting them to participate together with others in study, fellowship, worship, and service, so that, in place of the brokenness that may be perpetuated by their need of “me” and what I can provide, they may experience together with others the process of wholeness Christ is seeking to restore in each of us.

All that being said, however, the list is still long. And the needs are not only acute, but severe and profound in many cases. And while my ministry needs to be more authentic to the scriptural model, I acknowledge that the Apostle Paul understood what it was to be under a far heavier load, and rejoiced that we are “always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body.” (II Corinthians 4:10-11) Self-preservation, self-protection, self-provision: these aren’t concerns in a truly cruciform, sacrificial servanthood. But self-destruction is merely a by-product of failing to do the job He’s given in the way He’s prescribed. I can’t shorten the list. But I can realize that it’s the list He’s given in expectation that I address each circumstance in the way He’s called me to.

That’s the diagnosis and prescription I’ve come to. If I survive the course of treatment, I’ll try to remember to let you know how it works out.

More Discussion on Church-and-State, and Church-and-Christian Distinctions

So, to pick up this thread from the beginning, you might want to look at the posts of June 29, 2013 (“Toward an Understanding of the Church’s Role in Politics”) and my friend’s comments appended both to that post and within my July 11, 2013 post (“Clarifications on Church and Politics: A Response to Questions and Concerns”), which prompted his comments below. I am exceptionally thankful for the dialogue from one who writes authentically from within a context of ministry where his principles are lived-out daily. (If you’d like to see more of his work, his blog is at http://culturalengagement.wordpress.com/.)

Here are his comments, with my reply below them:

My honored friend, you have a massive cognition. It took me this long to comprehend your words. But it was not the Roman Empire that condemned Jesus, for in the gospels Pilate considered Jesus not guilty and Herod found no charge. It was religion that killed Jesus. Rome subjugated Jerusalem, but was not represented by her. The nature of an empire is that the subjugated nation still has a voice - in this case the voice of a mob stirred by religious hatred.

Jesus instructed his followers to pay taxes, both Caesar and to the temple.

Jesus came to free us from bondage, but did not suggest jailbreak; to help the poor, but not to burn down the welfare office. I appreciate the idea that both Adolf's were bad in the early 1940s, but we live in a people's democracy, legislated predominantly by majority vote, governed by our neighbor, and by anyone who cares to serve. It's a beautiful system, and takes a lot of burden off the church, so they can have the free time they want.

The ugly reality of our own hearts as Americans is that we don't want to serve in government and make changes. We want someone else to fight our battles, just as God's people did in 1 Samuel 8.

There are plenty of government positions open for Christians to serve the people in the various human services that the church fails to provide.

Don't you wonder if the real fault is not directly with the Christian church, but is a fault of each of our selfish hearts? I think that selfish heart is what Jesus wants to change. Then the church could do what it currently pays government to do.

your admiring but barely comprehending friend

Thanks for continuing to help me work through the implications of viewing Christ’s Kingdom as influencing the course of society and government from a supra-political position.

Dr. Metzger rightly warns against imagining the gospel as a-political; I would add the warning against allowing the Church (or churches) to be co-opted into the political system. I believe we blur necessary distinctions between the church and the state in two ways. First, most commonly, some obligate their congregations to government regulation by accepting government subsidy, and then complain about potential government interference or even prescription in what is believed, proclaimed, and done.

Second, only slightly less prevalent, is the belief that the church’s influence and intervention upon society are best applied through existing governmental and social entities. Churches’ responsibilities to their communities are rationalized as being fulfilled through little or nothing more than Christians paying their taxes (except, of course, for sales and property taxes, and whatever portion is “donated” to not-for-profit corporations).

I think the primary difference in our perspectives may rest upon some distinctions you make, with which I struggle. First and foremost, for me to separate Church from Christian (as is more popularly phrased “relationship, not religion,” in that Christ saves “individuals, not institutions”) requires an acceptance of a sinful condition rather than a call to repentance. If the fault is with “each of our selfish hearts” as Christians, then “the real fault is not directly with the Christian church.” The solution is not the separation of Church and Christian, but in reconciliation and integrity within the Church of its many denominations, churches, and “unaffiliated” Christians.

In evidence of how devastating the consequences of these distinctions can be, I would expand a little on your statement, “It was religion that killed Jesus.” I don’t support Pilate “washing his hands” of his responsibilities as evidence that “it was not the Roman Empire that condemned Jesus” by handing Him over to “a mob stirred by religious hatred.” The Jewish leaders understood that they needed, and had received the secular government’s approval of their “religious” actions. Yes, “the subjugated nation still has a voice,” but only so long as they agree, even in religious matters, with the empire controlling them. (Roman policies in this regard also led to Jewish persecution against Christians later in the first century, in that the latter were bringing unwanted imperial attention on the Jewish leaders since Christianity was considered to be merely a sect of Judaism.) Likewise, the empire is culpable for what it allows among those it subjugates. So, regarding the stance that “religion…killed Jesus,” I would note that it was religion not only sanctioned by, nor merely doing business with and through political systems, but operating in conjunction with the presiding political entity (a circumstance not unlike that of the two Adolfs, nor unlike that sought by many who want to “restore Christian America”).

There are other points you make that merit more discussion than is possible at the moment. But among them are our divergent views of our current political system being “a people’s democracy, legislated predominantly by majority vote, governed by our neighbor, and by anyone who cares to serve.” Likewise, the concept of government taking “a lot of burden off the church” so that we have something we would call “free time” inverts the vision I have of the Church being supra-political into the State being supra-religious (i.e., making the church even more a subsidiary of the state). Thus, I can’t agree that changes need to be made by serving in government (although I have, and am continuing to do so, it is for the opportunities God provides there, not as even a primary means of community change). The filters and additives necessitated by cooperating within government and most social organizations cannot help but adulterate the nature of the services rendered by Christians, not least in that we, again, would need to separate Church and Christian. Where Christians serve in and through government and existing community-service organizations, the Church which is Christ’s body and which seeks to grow up in all things into Him who is the Head must retain their primary allegiance to Christ as the reason, means, and substance of their service.

Remember, in I Samuel 8, it was the people’s desire to have a human government to reign over them that we identify as sinful, especially when God Himself depicts them as having “rejected Me from being king over them” (v7).

How I Helped to Kill Trayvon Martin (and countless others)

During our son’s elementary years, we felt the need to define certain “Rules of Engagement” regarding the bullying taking place at his school. “If you can walk away, walk away. If you have to run, there’s no shame in that. But if they keep you from getting away, aim directly for their nose. Whichever way they turn, you’ll hit something that will hurt them. But keep hitting them only until you can get away. Stick to the Rules of Engagement, and we’ll have your back, whatever consequences the school might impose on you.”

The Rules of Engagement worked well. But they were based on an assumption that there was a responsible adult (a pair of us, actually) who would step in and set things right, even when later policies of “zero tolerance” penalized all parties involved in any altercation, punishing even those who failed to prevent themselves from being bullied. In most communities, however, that trust, that we could acquiesce temporarily to various injustices because someone would eventually set things right, has eroded. In others, that trust has been entirely destroyed by similar tragedies, even where those are less conducive to the simplistic divisions preferred by the publicity-mongers.

As trust diminishes, it makes way for fears that many find quite justified. Should a young black man be afraid of being “in the wrong neighborhood?” Racial profiling is not just a matter of traffic stop harassment or stop-and-frisk policies. The ongoing bias in charges filed and sentences imposed are well-documented. Should homogenous neighborhoods keep watch over those who “clearly don’t belong here?” The fears that prompt Community Patrols and Neighborhood Watches are exploited by law enforcement agencies in support of their pleas for more budget and personnel support. Here, in the Fall River Valley of Northern California, a former sheriff quoted his deputies' response time as between thirty and forty-five minutes, so long as the call was received between 6:00 a.m. and 10:00 p.m. Outside those hours, there were no officers available to handle calls from our area. What he intended as a fund-raising ploy became fodder for justifying vigilantism.

How did these factors affect the events of February 26, 2012 in Sanford, Florida? Were both parties mindful of the history of racism, paranoia, community self-protection, and the justifications for deadly force under Florida law? We don’t know. None of us served on the Zimmerman trial jury. The evidence offered, at best, omitted any testimony to Martin’s state of mind prior to the incident. We cannot judge the level of fear each would have felt. Blacks in many areas have rightly come to expect something other than justice. Gated communities with neighborhood watches have rightly come to expect limited response from law enforcement. In these and other groups there is no longer a secure assurance that anyone will step in and set things right. Increasingly, any sense of security and justice is being left to us as individuals and communities to negotiate for ourselves.

Add to this “make-my-day,” “stand-your-ground” environment the desire for a more immediate gratification of our human nature, and a do-it-yourself-justice attitude is likely to prevail. Thankfully, in my son’s case, he addressed that temptation humorously over the family dinner table, rather than during a parental visit to school administrators. He asked permission before requiring forgiveness: “Dad? That kid that’s being mean to Sarah? Would it be alright to tell him, ‘Take hold of my wrist, and don’t let me go, no matter what happens?’” I assured him that, while technically fitting the rules of engagement, he could only count on my support if he were reactively addressing an actual danger, not intentionally provoking a confrontation.

Again, we cannot know which of these (or any others) may have been the attitude of either Martin or Zimmerman. We do know that many benefit from increasing our distrust, if not hatred of one another through harangue and diatribe. At best, they ignore, but perhaps willfully provoke the rising dangers of these fears, calculating the potential profits from more such confrontations in the future. I want to condemn them for doing so. But, am I numbered among them? I don’t pursue their publicity and celebrity. I try hard to never exploit personal tragedies in support of any stand I would take. And I have an accountability structure around me to, hopefully, ensure that should I cross those lines—I get called on it very quickly.

http://www.standupforkindness.com/kindness-pledge/

So, why do I feel culpable for this and other lesser known confrontations? When I cannot assure my community that someone will step in and set things right (or even try), I bear responsibility for perpetuating their fears as well as their desire to secure themselves through whatever means they choose. I help to perpetuate the systems and structures that diminish their security, even as they feed off of the fears engendered by each new report of each new confrontation. In fact, in the absence of past confrontations to report, even small-town papers will prophesy future doom “if the appropriate steps are not soon taken.”

All this occurs even within almost perfectly homogenous communities. With regard to the Martin-Zimmerman incident, fear and distrust between two individuals of “perceptible ethnicity” may have been heightened on that basis. Their minority status, however, most certainly provided opportunity to exploit this tragedy as a platform for racializing further what is better seen as an endemic system creating similar incidents within, between, and most certainly against the communities we are called to serve. The many similar tragedies since February 26, 2012 have not drawn similar attention. These have occurred among those whose differences are not so easily stereotyped, and thus will not be so publicly exploited. Yet it is the fact that they occur, not their potential for exploitation and analysis, which should motivate us to more consistently structure just relationships into and among our communities. They need to know that someone is committed to step in and set things right.

“Said Humpty Dumpty, ‘I Always Pay It Extra.’”

In response to my post, “Marriage, ‘Marriage,’ and Why the Difference Is Important,” a friend’s comment raised some important questions that deserve to be considered in more detail (thus length) than the comments section allows. To avoid any distortions, it would be a good idea to read the original July 20, 2013 post. I also have included the entirety of the comment, as you will see beneath the previous post, while addressing it in sections. Feel free to browse to the topics that interest you most.

The purpose of language is to communicate clearly.

More specifically, language is a means to communicate clearly. This requires what Gunton called de-synonymy, but also an appreciation for the fluidity of language over time that I was describing. In what we call “dead languages” there is the blessing of using words that will forever keep the definition they last had when they were abandoned as a means of public communication. In the differentiation of living and dead languages, though, both synchronic and diachronic issues require us to discern that which the word denotes at the time it is being used (whether in historical or contemporary compositions). In short, per Gunton, we make synonyms more specific until they are no longer synonymous. Likewise, exclusive terms often tend to become more inclusive as well. This occurs regularly, much to the chagrin of trademark holders like Kleenex, Scotch Tape, and Saran Wrap. The same problem arises when Evangelicals attempt to reclaim a trademark like “marriage.”

Marriage communicate something that has the weight of both history and culture - it involves the union of a man and a woman.

As ambassadors for Christ, we need to communicate synchronically within the communities we are called to serve. The diachronic shift in meaning for “marriage,” while more dramatic in recent years, began far earlier when the term for a Christian sacrament was applied to civil contracts. The shift in the nature of this civil contract has included many non-biblical and anti-biblical modifications within the surrounding culture, while still being called by the same term that had previously applied exclusively to the relationship Evangelical Christians generally mean by marriage: “One man and one woman, forming a household, with the intent to produce and raise children.”

It is declared publicly - which is important for society.

Among the many historical shifts that culture has accommodated, of course, is that there is no universal mandate for the “solemnization” (California’s legal term) of a marriage through any public ceremony, and there are even provisions for “confidential” marriages in which neither witnesses nor publicly available details are components. I believe that the Christian sacrament of marriage is, in fact, exceptionally helpful to society. But society, even when the dominant culture more fully reflected Christian values, has made allowance for multiple options outside of the wedding as a Christian worship service (as we require at Glenburn), and for relationships other than those which recognize the subsequent marriage as a divine creation of one (nearly) indissoluble flesh from two individual lives.

Reducing the concept of marriage to a civil versus a religious distinction doesn't do justice to what it communicates.

I think the confusion of using one word when referring to two conflicting concepts fails to do justice to either one. But “marriage” does not communicate solely the biblical relationship, even to many Christians who enter into one (and, frequently, another one or two or many more). In fact, it is our habit of combining two concepts into one, under that single term, that greatly hinders not only communication, but our testimony to the unique nature of the relationship God alone can create.

As you said, society has an interest in marriage. People who procreate have a responsibility to society.

I’m guessing a little at the meaning of these two sentences. What I had intended to communicate is that godly marriages and families have been “seen to benefit the broader society.” Therefore, society has made “social and financial benefits” available to such families and, in subsequent application of “marriage” to additional definitions, other “families” that are not remotely similar.

I agree that wherever those benefits are accepted, there should be a commensurate responsibility to the broader society providing those benefits. But at present, “people who procreate,” whether responsibly or irresponsibly, are substantially subsidized (and, in fact, incentivized to procreate far beyond their visible means of support) at levels that are soon to prove unsustainable, no matter how fully they may undertake their responsibility to society.

Worse, in misapplying the concept of “marriage,” our systems routinely extend benefits to individual parents, despite their actions being detrimental to others and society as a whole, purely on the grounds of biological procreation. In the communities I serve, this regularly occurs even where the partner with whom a child is placed has had no relationship with the other parent since conception, and even where those individuals present documented risks to the child. The cyclical disruption of repeated preferential placements, solely caused by punishing and rewarding the variable status of the prioritized, biological procreators, causes far-reaching, systemic harm to our communities, and far more so to the individual children serving as pawns of these policies.

Society’s interest in even Christian marriage, then, hardly recommends that we engage in the reciprocal relationship they offer by accepting the benefits that initially blurred the two categories represented by our single term, “marriage.”

Blurring the definition based on an non-procreating few hardly benefits society as a whole.

Successful procreation is rarely held as a necessary condition for continuing marriage. Where that has been the case, as with Henry VIII, the distinction has been widely condemned. Again, the blurring of the definition long predates any consideration of applying the term to homosexual couples (which I am assuming is meant by “non-procreating” in this context). That deserves its own separate point below.

At a time when society was becoming fairly supportive of recognizing civil unions (which answers the civil equality question), the intrusion of homosexuality into the centuries-old understanding of marriage is an necessary overstep.

While society may have been “becoming fairly supportive of recognizing civil unions,” the church (more specifically, National Association of Evangelicals’ policy statements and the Manhattan Declaration) publicly held that “marriage,” which both define as entailing contractual obligations, must prevail in reserving special rights and privileges only to partnerships comprising two individuals of opposite sexes. This hardly reflects civil equality, even if “domestic partnership” laws were to offer the same status and benefits as are available to those participating in the sacrament, albeit under different terminology.

But tracing any contemporary understanding of marriage back into prior centuries would require us to ignore the liberalization of divorce laws in this past century, not to mention women’s suffrage and property ownership, the abandonment of arranged marriages, as well as our tradition’s very early establishment of government benefits subsidizing those participating in the sacrament. To all but a handful of Evangelical Christians, North Americans would appear to understand the term “marriage” to relate primarily to the government sanctions, not the Christian sacrament. And that began long before “the intrusion of homosexuality.”

It would not be so big an issue if it did not have other implications. At what point are churches that will not perform or recognize such unions, based on a biblical worldview, become outlaws?

Determining the legitimacy of one’s philosophical or theological position based on the potential for negative outcomes is always a bad idea. In the cruciform, sacrificial servanthood of following Jesus Christ, we aspire to fulfill His calling, applying the belief that we are responsible for obedience; He is responsible for the consequences. If one of the consequences of my obedience is that a particular sin is made less convenient, then, once I get over my childish disappointment of having to subjugate my will to His, I should rejoice, shouldn’t I? How much more, then, would it please God to see North American Christians repent to renew an actual adherence, rather than the mere lip-service we offer, to the concept of a Free Church (i.e., free from state subsidy, and thus free from state sanctions). As it is, though, to answer your question directly: It is entirely appropriate for a parent organization to regulate or even prescribe the nature and actions of its subsidiaries. Where churches presume upon government subsidies (sales and property tax exemptions, as well as deductible contributions, to name the most commonly encountered), the government holds an interest in our beliefs and actions. When the government sanctions us, it should only be commensurate with their subsidies of us. But U.S. history suggests that they will do far better at regulation than they will at support (as embodied in the objections of states and counties to “unfunded mandates”).

And so, this is the crux of the conflict: Where we have accepted social benefits provided on the basis of our presumed benefit to the society around us, we adopt a responsibility to conform to the definitions of that society as to what they consider beneficial. Therefore, where we claim to differ from that society in belief, we should also differ from them in action.

Subsidized preachers and subsidized procreators alike must negotiate their own conflicting allegiances. Biblically, though, it seems clearer. Caesar should only get that which belongs to Caesar. God should always get that which belongs to Him. But no matter how vehemently we claim that our own exclusive definition should supersede the broader use of the term “marriage,” from which we previously benefited, all we really accomplish is confusion in our communications.

Marriage, “Marriage,” and Why the Difference Is Important

Colin Gunton, in The Promise of Trinitarian Theology, notes “that the capacity of language increases by a process of de-synonymy; that is, the process whereby two words which are in the beginning synonymous take on different shades of meaning, and are so able to perform different functions.” (Gunton, 10) 

Sadly, the opposite is also, too often, very true.

My children and congregations have long-wearied of my insistence that “Words mean things.” As a corollary, though, “for the thing you want to say, there is likely a word already.” As Gunton advises, there may, in fact, be several words that mean what you’re trying to describe. Unfortunately, very few others may ever have heard any one of the particular words for what you want to say. (And, although Webster is still selling dictionaries, most of us are happy to smile and nod until we find more comfortably convenient vocabulary in use.)

Frequently, though, a single, more common word may describe a broader, more complex reality, with the unintended result that, rather than one definition that fits multiple words, one word now has multiple definitions. These definitions may or may not overlap. They may even contradict each other entirely. But which is it? 

“Which is it?” That is the central question remaining unaddressed in the current debate over what we have been calling “Gay Marriage.” Which “marriage” are we talking about?

Once upon a time, (c.1300, according to etymologists), we adopted a Latin term into English, not merely signifying the relationship between two individuals, but specifically referring, in both its verb and noun forms (“to marry,” and “marriage,” respectively) to the natural result that offspring were produced by the physical union of the two individuals. 

Retroactively applying that term and its concepts in translation of Greek and Hebrew texts, it applies to the earliest such joining described in the Hebrew scriptures: Adam and Eve (Or, as would be fitting in Genesis 5:2, the two halves of “Adam,” a term identifying humankind as a whole, as well as the male individual of the original couple.) This resulted in a condition that, for most of twenty centuries, has been celebrated as a sacrament of the Christian Church in recognizing the intent of such couples to procreate. Thus, for most of Western cultural history, the word marriage was defined without much controversy.

As our story progresses, though, there were other issues to consider, not least of which were the benefits of such unions, their offspring, and the mutual care of these groups (we call them, generally, “families”) for one another. Over time, these groups were even seen to benefit the broader society, and were encouraged through social and financial benefits that were unavailable to individuals and/or other groups who did not conform to the scriptural pattern adopted. What became confusing (long before any discussion of “Gay Marriage”), however, is that the socio-political encouragements resulted in a state-sanctioned institution that has progressively deviated from the origins and character of the sacrament of marriage. 

Today, then, the word marriage applies not only to the Church-ordained sacrament that reflects biblical descriptions of a particular relationship, it also has been applied to the legal/political status of a variety of other relationships, so long as they are registered with the state authorities in order to receive particular benefits in what could more accurately be called “contractually-obligated domestic partnerships.” 

The confusion and consternation that surrounds the term Gay Marriage has resulted from allowing the word marriage to migrate in meaning to encompass at least two aspects of human relationships: one, a specific, narrow, religiously-constrained sacrament between two individuals who intend (and are presumably capable) to produce offspring; the other, a legal status afforded to some of those couples and others who register with the state in order to receive specific benefits.

In light of the above, perhaps it is still confusing to state, “There can be no such things as ‘Gay Marriage,’ in that the relationship celebrated in the sacrament involves two individuals who intend to produce offspring,” while maintaining that one’s socio-political belief in equal protection (and equal availability of benefits) under the law require their extension to any who are willing to register their “contractually-obligated domestic partnerships” with the state. 

Granted, some will want to continue to offer preferential status to one or another category of these relationships as more or less beneficial to the purposes of the state. My view of our shared history is that these segregations have universally caused significant damage to our society as a whole, in its various segments, and to the individuals it comprises. I see a greater benefit to equal protections and benefits for all. 

As one among many Christians who inadvertently perpetuate the confusion of marriage with “marriage,” as it applies to state-sanctioned benefits (In my defense, the IRS offers only the category of “Married, filing jointly” as the nearest description of my twenty-nine year relationship with Shelly Annette Myers.), let me reiterate my apologies as well as my repentance. Linguistically, the problem is not that we are calling “marriage” that which cannot be a marriage. It is that we have, for so long, used the term “marriage” to describe our enjoyment of preferential benefits as heterosexual couples who have registered their contractually-obligated domestic partnerships with the state. 

We should stop. Or allow others the same privileges.

The Freedom to Infringe on Others’ Freedoms?

As I’ve noted before, a part of my current studies includes an online forum in dialogue with other students and faculty. In that, the question was raised regarding “erosions of a Christian worldview” relative to cultural issues, and considering the nature of a free society in the United States in light of “the church that has voices that are difficult to reconcile with the notion of civil discourse.” In other words, how can we engage in dialogue from a sound theological and biblical basis, in the midst of hateful venom-spewing by those who claim, if not to represent us, then at least to be among our colleagues in Christ. Here’s where that took me:

Among the most foundational principles of the American experiment, the concept of religious liberty for any or all possible religions has always been imperfectly practiced, and perhaps even more loosely held than many would like to admit. Persons at the extremes of the faith spectrum, ironically, would seem to very nearly agree with one another on this issue. Those within certain theologically conservative traditions desire the freedom to practice their own religion, to the exclusion of all others. Though occupying a position at the farthest reaches on that spectrum, extremists within the civil libertarian camp, in fairness, only want to exclude one more religion than that.

But there seems to be, even in founding fathers who seem most thoroughly Christian in their worldviews, an intent to provide religious liberty without limitations. Some of these were Christians who believe in the exclusivity of their beliefs (e.g., John 14:6), and the importance of not just exposing, but proselytizing others to the gospel. Why, then, would they leave any potential for competition from other faith-systems, including the freedom to promote a freedom from religion? Their ideal, however imperfectly crafted and implemented, envisioned an open marketplace in which the free expression of ideas was guaranteed. Was that, perhaps, because they believed the gospel was the best of all possible ideas? Might they have seen a redemptive purpose in allowing as many as possible to flee repression elsewhere, allowing them to bring with them their own beliefs and practices? Could it be that they trusted God to bless the open proclamation and practice of the gospel that lovingly provided a safe haven for the millions who would follow?

Or are we expecting too much depth in the deliberations and decisions of the founding fathers? Paul Louis Metzger writes (in “Erosion: Christian Dominance in America, Not Freedom?” - http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2013/02/erosion-christian-dominance-in-america-not-freedom-2/) that “those fleeing persecution and establishing our democracy did not think long and hard enough about how to preserve the freedoms of others,” using Native Americans and the slave trade as examples. It seems probable to me, though, that they did, in fact, think these things through. There were (and still are) better choices available. But the economics of the pilgrimage to, refuge of, and secure survival within North America led to a prioritization of Euro-American interests over those of others, even over those of the gospel. They were not ignorant of the means by which the freedoms of others could be preserved. Whether from fear, or expedience, they chose not to do so. So, again, why?

Allowing the free and open exchange of ideas (and, more so, the respect of unfamiliar cultures that may appear, to one’s limited perspective, “uncivilized”) requires courage, knowing that human nature can often overcome any constitutional protections against potential reprisals or persecution in reaction to those ideas. Encouraging dialogue in which the gospel is open to challenge by competing worldviews requires confidence, knowing that we are all susceptible to the fear of losing our own inner debate regarding the efficacy of Christ’s work on our behalf. Being free to practice our own religious traditions requires consistency, accepting that our tendency to demand our own rights at the expense of others’ is a denial of the sacrificial, cruciform servanthood to which we are called.

The solution, therefore, is not to be found in silencing voices purporting to represent the Church in something other than “civil discourse,” but in engaging those voices, challenging their ideas, and appealing to their most central convictions regarding the sovereignty of God, the efficacy of the gospel, and the nature of our calling a Christian servants. Just as we should with any others whose beliefs or practices have yet to be conformed to following Jesus Christ.

Clarifications on Church and Politics: A Response to Questions and Concerns

In response to my post, “Toward an Understanding of the Church’s Role in Politics” on June 29, 2013, a friend offered the following questions and concerns. My response is below his remarks.

My death pastor friend, you are a blend of writing genius and thanatologist, along with a heavy dose of Theophilos.

I am curious, what factors cause you to accept as true that it is governmental factors that Jesus sought to change and confront? I think we all agree that Hitler’s power structure was destructive, but would you be willing to provide specific examples of Jesus or the apostles seeking to destroy the people who the church calls “government”? It would be wonderful to discuss particulars in casuistry.

Could it be more the established religious leaders who Jesus confronted? If that is the case, then our own hearts can be reached and touched in the metamorphosis to come. Your definition of culture dissecting removes church and religious power structures from view. Destroying government systems just sounds so little like Romans 13:1-7, while confronting established religious power structures seems like a steady theme throughout the gospels.

I fear that until the church gets its own house in order, it will have little light to shine into the lives of the people whom God has called to administer justice. I suspect that too often we fight the battle in our own power and for our own purposes.

Your friend

Regarding Jesus’ confrontations of “governmental factors,” some would exclude any consideration of the Jewish socio-political system operating under Roman supervision, since that system comprises (again, by definitions I would challenge) “the established religious leaders” rather than a secular structure of power and authority. I would suggest that this is a false dichotomy, at least as it applies to the authority exercised by the Sanhedrin within Jerusalem. Still, there is much to be said about the particular attention Jesus paid to those religious leaders who stood between God’s people and the place and plan of worship to which He had called them. Leaving that for another occasion, then, let me focus on what I consider to be the direct statements and actions clearly applying to secular systems and structure, and their effects on persons. (Note: I differentiate governing institutions, organizations, systems, and/or structures not only from those affected by their actions, but from the individuals serving within them as well. More about that below.)

In Luke 4:18-19, Jesus rises to speak in His hometown synagogue. There, He appropriates His Messianic mission statement from Isaiah. Exegetically, so far as identifying the actual content from Isaiah, I believe Luke gives us the reference point, not the entirety of the passage Jesus read. The topic continues through Isaiah 62:12, and it is likely that Jesus read the full section. Still, even if He limited His reading to just Isaiah 61:1-2a, those present could not help but recognize the claim He was making as the One coming to fulfill all that is envisioned in “the favorable year of the Lord” (indeed, well beyond the specifics of the Year of Jubilee described in Leviticus 25:8-17). In doing so, and in both announcing and implementing His kingdom through His disciples, He was guilty of a number of offenses, not least against the Jewish authorities, but including clear offenses against Roman rule as well. For example, underlying most, if not all, of His teachings on the competing kingdoms: Jesus takes the position that Caesar had no claim over an individual living within the Roman structure (Matthew 22:15-22). Instead, He held that God ruled over the human person made in His image

and likeness. For Jesus to promote allegiance to some other kingdom than Rome’s (which, in retrospect, we appreciate from His vantage in a far greater, and ultimately Sovereign system) was nothing less than seditious. Every mention of this foreign citizenship in the kingdom of God stands in direct opposition to the Roman (and any other human) system. How far does Jesus go in applying these differences? The concept of peaceful civil disobedience might apply to encouraging tax collectors (serving under Roman contracts within the Roman system) to leave their posts. But even though it is directed toward the religious barriers erected between God and His people, the violent act of cleansing the temple, probably twice, risked Roman reprisals, (and, for some, lends greater credence to a literal interpretation of Jesus’ version of the second amendment in Luke 22:35-36).

Still, many do disconnect Jesus’ life and ministry (as well as that of His disciples) from direct socio-political action by the Church (or churches), and more so regarding the supra-political perspective I am trying to envision. My experience is that this disconnection is possible only by means of a solely-spiritualized good news which abandons the literal application of Jesus’ ministry to individuals in their immediate circumstances. Some do this by dualism, so that we are released from prison, blindness, and oppression only in an other-worldly sense, while we continue in the darkness of bondage and exploitation in this less-than-ideal shadow-existence. Others disconnect Jesus’ claims and promises from our experience through a dispensationalism in which Jesus may well have meant what He said and expected us to emulate what He did. Unfortunately, for some, Jesus failed to anticipate the interruption of His plans by the Jews’ rejection and the resulting Church-Age intervening between the announcement/demonstration of His kingdom and its actual arrival at some point in the future. This, then, appears to release some of His followers today from any sense of obligation toward actually pursuing a holistic deliverance spiritually, emotionally, mentally, physically, and socially. Until He returns, this argument would hold, the widow, orphan, and alien in their distress are mostly on their own.

Some would modify their dispensationalism to account for the implementation of some of Jesus’ words and actions. Likewise, the dualism of offering only spiritualized deliverance does not entirely divorce Jesus’ example from these Christians’ experience. Imagining that Jesus meant for us to consider ourselves freed from darkness, oppression, and imprisonment in only a spiritualized sense (and perhaps an actual experience at some point following His return) can be fitted to the sacrificial, cruciform servanthood that has comprised the experience of faithful Christians for twenty centuries. But while I may gladly (or begrudgingly, for that matter) accept loss, imprisonment, or other more damaging acts against myself, I believe that a disciple of the Christ described in Isaiah 61-62 cannot tacitly stand idle while these are being inflicted upon anyone else. To do so would be the socio-political equivalent of the far-too-many well-speaking, perhaps well-meaning, but relationally aloof Christians criticized in James 2:15-16.

Another issue you raise is essential to rightly applying any of the above. There can be no acceptable justification “to destroy the people who the church calls ‘government.’” I am regularly appalled by the hateful venom spewing from presumably Christian sources toward individuals whom God loves, who are created to bear His image and likeness, and who are supposed to be the subjects of our most fervent prayers. But the primary influence in my desire to see the systems and structures of governing authority dismantled in certain cases, while maintaining respect for the dignity even of those we would otherwise deem “heinous,” is Hannah Arendt’s demonstration of “The Banality of Evil.” (Eichmann in Jerusalem, 1963) In short, were we to destroy Adolf Eichmann in the mid-1930s, there may have been some flagging devotion, lesser skill, and thus diminished logistical efficiency from whomever would have filled his post instead. But the system he served, its philosophical foundations, and its inexorable atrocity would have remained in place, and the work would have continued.

Regarding Romans 13 (along with I Peter 2:13-17), there is no question that we face an ethical quandary when members of the Church (or, again, the churches) are commanded by the state to disobey God, which is tantamount to being called by God to disobedience against the state. But I would note that the definitions of submission in both (and other) passages requires a more prayerful response than simple obedience to whatever the state may demand. Submission or subjection suggests that there is an implied alternative in any demand. The state may order us, “Do this or else.” A Christian should be prepared to respond, “I’ll take the ‘else.’” That means we must be prepared to accept also the negative consequences likely to result from even civil disobedience. As the structures and systems seek to perpetuate themselves (and I do ascribe to them a will), any detractors from their policies and processes will find themselves in the cross-hairs, even more so than those who are more routinely (and often acquiescently) oppressed and exploited.

Finally, regarding the implications of the Church’s own dysfunction, and especially our division: we should remember that it is not “our house” to get “in order.” The question seems to be, “Who are we to suggest to anyone else that they should change their self-interested self-promotion, even where widows, orphans, and aliens are being crushed?” In answer, we must surely admit: Selfish actions based on selfish motives do abound, of course, in the Church as well as within any human society. But for any portion of Christ’s body to deny its responsibilities on the basis of others’ disinterest or dysfunction is to accommodate rather than eradicate the sin that so easily besets us all. It is, as I understand scripture, God’s desire that the oppressed and exploited find others willing to subject themselves to the same risks and damages, to work toward justice and dignity with respect, and to entrust themselves to God alone for their provision and protection in doing so. In short, the answer to “Who are we to take action?” is that “God wants to see this accomplished, and we’re the only body He’s got.”