Have you ever noticed that as people age, they get more set in their ways? I suppose that's an obvious-enough observation. Well, have you ever read a book that opens your eyes in a way that matters, known that this book (or movie, sermon, conversation, or song) should change you in a meaningful way, and then gone on with only the new information and no life change? Or has your heart been stirred by something…a taste of the sublime, a long-awaited truth, a call to inspired life…and yet you've found yourself unable to implement that moment?
I'm not talking about the conviction of sin and its stubborn, parasitic (but fading) grip on our lives. I'm asking whether you've encountered a truth that you know (with the urgent certainty of the heart, not the head) that is for you, and yet it passes into obscurity as just another instant of insight. Does it seem that books or sermons that should shape us tend to have less lasting effect the older we get? How life-defining it can be for a young child to first encounter God through hearing the Gospel preached; it can mold his values, his mindset, his course, far easier (it seems) that a powerful sermon can move a well rounded adult. Or a young boy who first watches "Braveheart" or "Robin Hood," or reads "The Lord of the Rings" or "The Chronicles of Narnia"…he doesn't hear observations about courage or sacrifice, fellowship or morality: he hears a very real and answerable call to these virtues. True, a grown man hears these calls as well. But it's more difficult to believe they are answerable; the calls come through a tangled morass of experience, cynicism, culture, and that killer of all passionate activity—the "practical."
Now, I know this is, to some degree, a necessity. The younger we are the fewer voices weigh against a call of truth. The older we grow the more experience has taught us that it is the natural tendency of things to drift toward a medium, not extremes—anything that sounds extreme, or radical, or passionate, can be too easily dismissed as an affront to common sense or one view among many. And yet, regardless of its cause, this inertia of the soul is often a problem, and one that should be confronted. Inertia: the resistance to a change in direction or speed; the reluctance of the soul to act rather than just listen.
What brought about these thoughts? Well, in part it was the books I've been reading. Over the summer I read "Blue Like Jazz" and "Velvet Elvis" and just now started "The Irresistible Revolution." These are Christian books written by socially active believers for the socially aware, the complacent, and the unsatisfied alike. They are calls to break from the stagnant and accepted forms of religion in our culture and embrace a spirituality that is centered on the Way of Christ, rather than human traditions; as Rob Bell put it, "to follow in the Dust of the Rabbi." They connect to books I've read over the years: "Wild at Heart" and (especially) "Waking the Dead" by John Eldredge, "Ruthless Trust" by Brennan Manning, and "Don't Waste Your Life" by Piper, as well as others. There is this theme, not at all confined to the beliefs of a small minority, that the Western Church is (generally) not as life-giving, as socially motivated, or as spiritually genuine as it could—and should—be. In short, there is no shortage of observations that complacency and even apathy are issues in the church. They have been for a while. The ideas of change, the ways to change, are out there: read Rob Bell or Shane Claiborne, or read Eldredge as speaking to the church and not just the individual. We know there is poverty in Africa and Asia (not to mention America), and we know that Followers of the Way of Christ are called to feed the sick and hungry. We know that moral relativity is an obscene assault on Biblical Truth, and that we are to stand on the Rock and not be moved. We know that the fates of nations—our own included—are transient and unimportant compared to the eternality of a single soul. We know that what we see and hear and say and who we spend time with affect us in a very real way (how often does one need to hear "garbage in, garbage out"?), and we know we are supposed to think on whatever is true, noble, pure, right, lovely, and worthy of praise. We know these things, and deep down we know that the Church is not a denomination, a building, a part of culture, or a club…it is the very Bride of Christ, above country or culture, and decidedly not something that belongs to the affluent West.
We know these things, we read these things, and still we go about our lives seeking after the "American Dream" (absolutely NOT a Christian ideal) and idolizing Democracy (not a Christian philosophy) and practicing tolerance (a far cry from spiritual patience). Why is that? How can someone read "Velvet Elvis" and go about their lives the same way, with only a new piece for theological conversation, seeing it as an issue for debate rather than a call to action? And just so you know, I'm speaking to myself most of all; I know the books I've read, the messages I've heard, and the movies I've watched, and I know the direction I should be moving.
I think for some Christians, the socially aware "left" has scared them away from activism. Some Christians may associate feeding the poor, loving across boundaries, non-religious spirituality, valuing God's natural creation, and noticing the oppression in other countries (including the oppression which drives the desperate across our borders) with encouraging people not to work, sentimentality, liberal and unbiblical Christianity, tree-hugging, and a lack of patriotism (note well: extreme patriotism is portrayed in an unfavorable light in the New Testament as concerns the Jews…and after all, it is they who are God's nation). If so, it's a shame that can probably be best laid at the feet of the religious right. We ignore the fact that Jesus was a radical in the truest sense. If we notice this, it is often with discomfort, for we think that means He was a liberal, with all the connotations we associate with that word. Now, there is a little etymological difference between "liberal" and "radical." The Oxford English Dictionary defines "liberal" (in the sense we are using it) as: "1. Free in bestowing; bountiful, generous, open-hearted. 2. Free from bigotry or unreasonable prejudice in favour of traditional opinions or established institutions; open to the reception of new ideas or proposals of reform. 3. Favourable to constitutional changes and legal or administrative reforms tending in the direction of freedom or democracy" (notice the third definition…according to it, our actions in Iraq are liberal. See how we have corrupted the word?) This may be slightly off, but to me "liberal" has connotations (in most Christian circles today) of meaning weak on morals, strong on taxes, and staunchly anti-war. With "liberal," we tend to associate accessory labels such as pro-choice (a cruel euphemism if ever there was one), pro-gay rights, anti-God in schools and government, anti-guns. Many Christians frown on the term "liberal" because they can't (rightly) ever imagine Jesus condoning abortion. And yet He was clearly a Radical.
The Oxford English Dictionary defines "radical" as: "1. Departing from tradition; innovative or progressive. [check one for Jesus] 2. An advocate of radical political or social reform. [check two for Jesus] 3. Relating to or affecting the fundamental nature of something. [check three for Jesus]" It seems to me that "radical" simply means that you care, that you desire change in the world, and that you believe our actions matter…and can count for the good.
So, I asked myself above, "what brought about these thoughts?" and it is more than the books I've been reading. It's also an increasing awareness of the rest of the world. I suppose that process started with my year in Scotland, and both living in another country and developing friendships with people from many diverse cultures. Travelling throughout Europe—and especially Israel—also gave me plenty of fuel for reflection. Learning about tragedies in Africa—both historical ones and the current crises, represented first in my experience by Darfur and most keenly by the situation in Northern Uganda highlighted by Invisible Children—makes one unable to ignore the cry of wounded humanity throughout the world. It makes one wonder how we can go about our lives and do nothing for those dying from AIDS and malaria in sub-Saharan Africa, suffering from political oppression and tyranny in Burma, encountering religious persecution in the Middle East, and the guys downtown losing their lives to drugs—not to mention two generations in Europe and the rest of the West selling their souls to moral relativity and humanism and pleasure. I look around and see the same world that hesitated to enter another World War to save the Jews, and only acted because attacked—what shame. Really, I see the same world that persecuted and brutalized them; that spirit is still alive and well in Iran, among many other places. I see the same world that bought and sold and treated like animals their fellow man, all in the name of profit. I see a world that ignores the brutality visited upon Tibet and the poor of Beijing by China, ignores genocide in Africa, ignores the even more deadly genocide in our own country waged against the unborn. I look at crises both past and present, and I don't wonder, "Where is our country?" as if we Americans are somehow more prone to fix than harm. I look and wonder, "Where is our church?"
This is not an attempt to produce feelings of guilt for being well off. All blessings come from God, and it is a blessing to be affluent. However, when that affluence is poured into the empty maw of Entertainment and Comfort, I wonder. I will not use Jesus' words, "Go, sell all you possess and give to the poor, and follow Me" to advocate embracing poverty; those words were spoken to an individual, and the command cannot be expounded to everyone. Nonetheless, the Truth of His words rings true for all. There is a command within, though it's not as specific for us…still, we are to value Jesus above all, and be highly attuned to the fact that possessions can get in the way. Not only that, but our brothers and sisters are in need. What did Jesus’ own brother say true religion was? Looking after widows and orphans (and, of course, keeping oneself from being polluted by the world: this is something the left tends to ignore). No, I'm not trying to induce guilt, only urgency.
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