—–

Your heart breaks for the brokenness of things. You are one of those few who truly are moved by the stories on the evening news. Unlike many us who have grown accustomed to bad news, you sincerely expect that things ought to be better than they are. This expectation in you is valuable and true, thought it is often deeply disappointed; it is hope in you pressing against despair in your world. Don’t give it up. Neither should you give up your softness and sensitivity; they are not symptoms of weakness. They are part of the strength in you that shares in the suffering of others.

In our conversations, it seems that the thing that affects you most is feeling the shadow of God looming over the tragedies you are moved by. You have trusted God and come to know Him as both Sovereign and Good. This has left you torn between what you have known of God and what you have have seen in His world

When hunger takes a life, why does He not act?
When a child is sold for sex, is she not His child?

This tension doesn’t arise from a fault in your theology or your faith. Our tradition is filled with faithful women and men who struggled throughout their lives to hold the goodness of God in one hand and the darkness of things in the other. Few of these saints discovered or offered a cognitive, philosophical pathway out of that tension. Similarly, I can’t offer you a cognitive pathway out of your tension; I can share that tension with you. I can also suggest something I’ve learned from the lives of those saints as well as my own experience; That, even should you and I find a cognitive pathway or a satisfactory philosophical theory by which to explain suffering in the world, the pain in our hearts as well as the pain in those who directly suffer, would yet remain untouched.

Fred Friendly is noted to have said “The role of the newsman is to create a pain in the viewer’s mind that can only be relieved by thinking.” I firmly believe that the pain you experience at looking on the brokenness of the world can only be relieved in sacrificial action. The only ‘relief’ I’ve ever experienced in the shadow of violence, hunger and tragedy,.. the only reasonable response I’ve found has been to bear whatever degree of the world’s pain I can responsibly bear. You have chosen this way yourself; You have committed hours and resources to care for trafficking victims. You have worked to educate and inspire others so that they do not invest in a system of exploitation. You and your husband sponsor kids with Compassion… You have chosen to give of yourself… You have chosen the Way of the Cross. And though it seems like foolishness to some, those of us who have lived in this way know that it has power to change lives.

In the Scriptures, even when pressed by Job, God never gives a philosophically satisfactory answer to the ‘problem of evil;’ He does not wrap up the issue in an understandable and graspable package. Instead, and many years later through Christ, God offers the only response I’ve ever found to be satisfying on any level; the sacrificial action of the Cross. Certainly, there are philosophical implications to the Cross of Christ but they are peripheral to the act itself. It seems to me me that the pain in you is not so much a matter of philosophical crisis as it is a call to to suffer with those who suffer and to do so redemptively. I believe the philosophical crisis is real, but I believe the latter is more vital. Both offer a path a path of suffering: you will either suffer internally because you cannot make sense of the world and it’s Creator, or you will suffer in a way that brings healing. You have chosen the latter path. I believe you’ve chosen well.

I’m not suggesting, nor would I ever, that such horrors as sex-slavery are instruments in the hand of God and therefore justifiable. I sincerely don’t have a convenient theological category for such things. All I know is that, even should we somehow “make sense” of the darkness or “understand” it, the pain in us (not to mention the pain in those who directly suffer from hunger, oppression, slavery etc..) remains untouched until we act. You have chosen to act despite your confusion. I think that’s wisdom.

A couple added thoughts:

Pain is not a concept.. It is real. It seems sensible to me, then that our response to real pain must be real rather than conceptual.

It is, in many ways, a luxury of the well-off to philosophize and theorize about suffering; it’s meaning and place in the world.

Diseases That Have Cures from Justin McRoberts on Vimeo.

I wrote a letter to you, Lord
Not unlike the one You sent to me
Not to explain myself or anything I think
Just to tell you what I see

Which brings us to where we are now
Where I don’t know how to begin
You won’t explain Yourself to satisfy my mind
And I simply won’t give in.

They say Your love is great
But maybe they should wait
Until it’s their child dying of diseases that have cures

They say you’re faithful like the sun
I watch it rise most every day
But if I stand here still and wait here long enough
The sun will also go away

All you’ll say is…

You say your love is great
With Your body broken, Your spirit faint
For a world turned over and laid to waste
While your people treat each other like it’s some damned game
Cuz they’re all Your children aren’t they?
Yeah, they are all your children anyway
Yeah, they are Your kids dying of diseases that have cures

* Wealth without Work
* Pleasure without Conscience
* Science without Humanity
* Knowledge without Character
* Politics without Principle
* Commerce without Morality
* Worship without Sacrifice

My version goes something like this:

Lord, You know we’ve seen it
Wealth without the work
And pleasure with no conscience 
Both plagues upon the earth

We are overwhelmed; we are overcome
And yet we live in expectation

Lord you know we’ve lived it 
Religion with no cost
Worship that means nothing
Because it does not bear a cross

 We are overwhelmed; we are overcome
And yet we live in expectation

 Science with no heart
Knowledge with no character
Politics without a sense of place
And we’re selling things without a thought
For what we need
And what really cost.

We are overwhelmed; we are overcome
And yet we live in expectation 

Bob and Carol Lenz had brought along a bag full of small gifts to give to the kids, each gift identical to the others.  There were nearly 300 kids packed into the small room.  The gift required a small bit of explanation for use and so Bob began to walk through the steps, aided by a translator.  But the more Bob explained the details, the more the kids and the translator looked puzzled.

“We do not understand.” explained the Compassion staffer.  “These words are difficult to translate.”  You see, not only does English not smoothly translate into Hindi (India’s legally-established, national language), not all Indian’s speak Hindi. In fact, only Indian’s from the Northern regions speak Hindi.  Indian’s in the Southern regions mostly refuse to accept Hindi as the national language on political grounds and won’t even attempt to learn it.  More often than not, Indians in rural areas use regional, tribal dialects to communicate. 

So, in order to rightly offer the gift Bob and Carol brought, we were each going to have to show each child how to unwrap, assemble and use the gift individually. This posed another obstacle: The room was so densely crowded that there was no foot-space between children. Should we try to access the kids in the middle, we would trample other kids on our way.

One of the Compassion staff took a gift from Bob, knelt on the ground in front of one child and showed her how to unwrap it, assemble it and use it. He then handed her another gift, still in the wrapping and gestured her to teach the boy behind her what to do.  We followed suit, showing the kids we had access to, the ones directly in front of us, how to unwrap, assemble and use the gift in such a way that they could then turn around and to the same for the child behind them and so on and so on.

There are 1.4 Billion people living in India. That’s one sixth of the world’s population in an area roughly one third the size of the U.S.  A large percentage of Indians live in desperate conditions which generally include a lack of education, lack of access to job opportunities and the utter absence of basic medical care.  Not only are the particular issues plaguing Indian’s overwhelming, the obstacles for Westerners wanting to help are equally overwhelming.

This is why I am so thankful for the way Compassion International works; partnering with already established local churches to assist their particular work among the particular people in a particular place.  Because Compassion works the way it does, our role (yours and mine) does not include wrapping our minds around all the intricacies and complexities of the “Problem” and trying to “Fix It.”  Instead, we get the blessed privilege and honor of caring for a particular child and doing so with the hopeful knowledge that kids who learn to read teach their families to read; kids who learn how to avoid water-borne illness teach their families to do the same; kids who discover the love of God in Christ pass that discovery on to their families and friends. 

The gift you and I get to offer has deep impact on the lives of kids because of the wonderful benefits child sponsorship affords (education, medical care, community, etc..).  But the deeper and more powerful impact is that, in Compassion partner churches, these kids are taught to see themselves as far more than people in need who receive the gifts of generous people.  They are taught that they are agents of healing, health, ingenuity and love themselves. They become gift-givers in their own neighborhoods for whom language and access are not obstacles at all. 

Deephalder is five and a half years old and lives with his grandparents. He also lives with a rare blood disease called “Thalassemia” and requires a blood transfusion every six weeks. Each transfusion costs 1600 Rupee which is 80% of his grandparents’ household income. The expense of treating thalassemia is the primary reason why, upon receiving the diagnosis when Deep was only five months old, both parents left him. 

When Deep’s grandmother had finished telling us about the disorder, the cost of transfusion and the day of work either she or Deep’s grandfather has to miss when they take the four-hour bus ride to the hospital, we asked how they were able to afford the other necessities of life on top of Deep’s treatment.  She glowed as she told us that Compassion had picked up the cost of the transfusion.  That means that, somewhere in the U.S., a young man or woman is sacrificing $1.23 a day to ensure that, along with basic medical care, an education and food, Deep can continue to receive his treatment.

Money enough to buy a daily cup of coffee is quite literally saving the life of a five-year old child.

This is why I partner with Compassion; their work through local churches in the poorest areas of the world puts children from those places within arms reach on you and I. And because our small sacrifice is has such deep and lasting impact in the hands of the church partners Compassion assists. 

If you don’t already, consider doing so yourself by sponsoring a child. 

Perhaps obviously, I’m responding to the viral video entitled “Why I Hate Religion But Love Jesus.”  Even side from the generally false and far-too-easy accusations leveled against “churches,” the young brother’s poem is an example of what I find worst in religious practice: reactive emotionalism.  I believe I understand  what he’s reacting to. The cross-cultural, multi-ethnic, multi-generational, communal practice of Christianity is often messy and sometimes downright ugly. Yet I would suggest that the thing to do in response to poorly practiced religion is to work at practicing it well and helping others to do the same.   

Serve the poor. 
Support single mothers. 
Visit and encourage the imprisoned.  
Pray. 
Study. 
Sing. 
Heal. 

All of which are outward evidences and practices of inward convictions and beliefs

Religion is exactly that; the outward practice of my inward conviction and belief.  It is the pattern created by regularly and consistently (and communally) acting on what I believe.  Without the outward work of my life (my religion), the inward conviction I have regarding the Goodness, Truth and Beauty of God in Christ is meaningless (James 2:14-26). I practice my faith regularly and consistently instead of allowing it to be an emotionally-rooted and nearly thoughtless sequence of reactions, each with a life-span roughly equivalent to that of a YouTube video’s popularity.

This is one of the lines from Christopher Hitchens’ book “God Is Not Great.”  It’s not a small thought or some quippy, dismissive jab; Hitchens sincerely believed that the strain of christian moralism hurt people mentally and emotionally… and I agree with him.  For this reason and many others, I’m deeply thankful for the work of Christopher Hitchens.  

Reading Hitchens exposed for me the difference between playing a game against the practice squad in practice drills vs actually getting hit in the mouth by an opposing team; I had to mean what I said and know what I meant when I made crazy religious claims like “prayer works,” or that I was “born again” or even that “God is good.”  His work forced me to face my religious claims and practices from outside my tradition and honestly, critically evaluate what it is I believe wholeheartedly vs what I only claim to believe.  In doing so, he performed a service that very few within my tradition either can or will perform; to sincerely challenge the roots of faith without the safety net of cherishing that faith. 

-His challenge that religion does not make people more “moral” led me to see the difference between learning to live well and learning to “be good.” I recognized that I do not believe that religion makes people moral and furthermore that it should not be the goal of religion to do so.

-His challenges regarding the effectiveness of prayers for healing led me to far more critically receive such claims and more fully rejoice when I come to believe them true.  

-His challenge that religion gives license for all kinds of destructive acts led me to deeply re-evaluate the ways I justify aspects of my own behavior in light of my calling or vocation.  I’d not previously dealt with how serious a thing poorly practiced religion is and that it really does destroy lives.

When a pastor, speaker or chaplain presents a challenging question, those in attendance know that, in the end, the issue will be resolved; much in the same way a crisis is presented in an adventure film. We all know that somehow, Borne or Bond or Batman is going to make it out alive, get the girl and defeat the bad guy.  But with Hitchens, this was and is not the case; He believed firmly that religion was not only false but damaging.  Hitchens wasn’t asking questions in order to prepare the faithful for conversations they might have “out there in the world,” he was telling the Truth as he saw it and challenging those in opposition to either prove that it was not or change the way they thought and lived.  Such a confrontation and conversation has been priceless for my faith to be sincere and be fully lived.

I am better for having read, watched and listened to Christopher Hitchens.  I am clearer on the difference between believing in God with all the challenge, mystery and internal conflict that comes from such a belief and settling into a kind of faith that dismisses critique as blasphemy only. 

Earlier in the day, I had written about the grace upon which the christian community is founded. During the piece, I wrote that “if God is planning on judging His children according to the rightness of our theology, we ought to all be very concerned.”  The line was bouncing around my head and on my walk down the hill, it came collided with the list of judgements I’d made about those etchings.

I was reminded that I belong to a tradition in which even the most juvenile expression is, on some level, accepted; that it is by the same grace that my expression is accepted.  After all, what is more juvenile than being judgmental?
 

..that “They” are not a single, collected body with a single, centralized, anti-Western agenda. 

..that “hate” is not always the best way to describe the mood of everyone who takes issue with US foreign policy. In the case of many younger men and women, “disappointment” and “anger” are far more appropriate and accurate descriptions.

..that, even when “hate” is an accurate descriptor, it often isn’t “our freedom” that illicits hatred; it is what some of us choose to do with it.  For example, the critique by many Muslims (though shared by even more with no religious affiliation) that American industry “exploits women like consumer products or advertising tools.”

Of course, this isn’t a blog about foreign policy.  I’m not a foreign policy expert.  I wouldn’t want to make the decisions necessary to be one; it’s a difficult and complicated endeavor deserving more nuance in communication than  “They hate us for our freedom.”  I am growing more comfortable with letting go of the comfort that comes from the aphorisms I often use.  Certainly there is truth in simple words.  Yet the power of truth is in how it is lived out.  While simple words like “nothing is certain but death and taxes” or “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” or even “God is good” can be an impetus for a more courageous engagement with life, once I am engaged I find that I must move beyond the aphorism and embrace complexity and even, at times, contradiction.

I believe “God is good” with my whole self. I’ve bet my life on it, actually.  Yet, I know that the lived reality of that aphorism is rather complex; that each of these words carries with it a world of complexity.

Aphorisms are not containers for truth. They are more like access points or doorways. From a distance, everything on the other side of a doorway is framed nicely and neatly. But once you are IN the doorway, the world on the other side is revealed to be made up of far more than the doorway can frame.

Here are a few Thanksgiving thoughts I’ve put together from notes to a recent sermon. I hope to have the audio in hand shortly and will likely post it to Facebook and Twitter. 

“Thanks”
“Thanks” is short for “Thank you,” which is, itself short for “I thank you.”  With every reduction, a human element of the phrase is eliminated; first “I,” then “you.” 

The english word “thank” comes from the same root as the word “think,” which means “to hold in one’s mind” or “to perceive.”  So, at least part of what I am saying when I say “thank you” is that I see the person at the other end of the exchange.  I am acknowledging that they are more than a vehicle for the distribution of goods and services; more than just an instrument of economy. 

Recognizing the human on the other side of a gift exchange means recognizing a gift as the result of choice.  The gift-giver chose generosity and kindness over selfishness and greed and I believe that it is worth noting whenever someone chooses their better nature.

“No problem”
In his insightful book “The Dangerous Act of Loving Your Neighbor,” author Mark Labberton laments the cultural shift from responding with “You’re welcome” to responding with “no problem,” writing that  “The phrase assumes that the service offered is primarily measured by the cost to the one serving….”

I can think of ways I’ve expressed this sentiment: 

No problem.. It was on my way
No problem.. I had an extra
No problem.. Because you’ll pay me back
No problem.. It didn’t cost me anything

But if it was a problem, the chances that I’d do it take a dive.

Labberton goes on: “The fact is, however, that a lot of the service we need to receive and offer is really going to be a problem… Our lives are meant to carry and share in the problems of others.. That’s called love… Our goal is not to keep the cost of love as low as possible.”

Which is why, along with the author, I prefer the words “You’re welcome.”

“To say ‘you’re welcome’ carries with it an acknowledgement of the dignity of the person who thanked you, your intentionality as the giver and even the value of the gift.”

I would take this a step further and suggest that it is this sentiment “you’re welcome,” that frames the entire exchange.  In offering a gift or my time etc,.. I am actually offering a part of myself; Instead of giving according to the toll it takes on me I give according to the relationship I have or desire to have with the recipient, welcoming them into my life, even if in a small way.

As a christian, I find this expressed in these timeless words from John’s apostolic letter: 

“We love because He first loved us.”

I am welcomed by God through Christ. And in Christ that welcome comes at the cost of the Cross. This frames the way I now offer myself to my world. I give of myself to a world that is welcomed into relationship with God; I get to extend that welcome in acts of generosity and kindness.  When those acts are seen and I am thanked for them, I then have the opportunity to proclaim that welcome aloud.

As a Christian, I don’t feel a need to root for members of my tribe simply because they are members of my tribe. I want to support athletes, artists, writers, politicians etc.. who are good at what they do. 

That said (and speaking of tribes), I am a fan of the Oakland Raiders because they’re local and because citizenship in the Raider Nation is McRoberts family tradition. Beyond that, my support of an athlete in the NFL (or in any sport for that matter) generally has more to do with the way that athlete contributes to their sport; I believe excellence in a person’s work, regardless of his or her faith, brings glory to God.

Supporting Christians in any industry simply because they are Christians strikes me as a kind of tribalism that pits “our” tribe against “theirs” and that makes me uncomfortable.  It grates against the Biblical image of being salt in the world; salt enhances the flavor of whatever it is added to rather than serving to enhance its own. Christian hope for the world ought not to be a Christian conquering of it but it’s completion, redemption and fullness; that is a vision much larger than Christians doing well in the world.  Tribalism detracts from the larger hope.

**This is especially true today when the Denver Broncos play my beloved Raiders in Oakland.