… some folks inherit star-spangled eyes
Hoo, they send you down to war, Lord
And when you ask ’em, “How much should we give?”
Hoo, they only answer, “More, more, more, more”¹

It has been a year since the assassination attempt on Donald Trump’s life. In a flash of time, a stray bullet from the would-be assassin killed an innocent bystander before he was eliminated by a Secret Service sniper. In the following days, Trump and his enablers filibustered about his ear brush with death while evangelicals elucidated on how God had miraculously protected him. Amid all the hype, the men who actually died that day soon faded into historical footnotes.

Yet there is a singular scene from the tragedy that has been burned into my memory. It’s the image of Donald Trump in the chaotic aftermath, blood smeared, fist raised, face snarled, while shouting the F-word at his followers:

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

fighting: the remedy for fighting

Forgive me, but watching someone championing violence while standing knee-deep in violence seems like an especially harebrained first response. Unless fighting is the point. Unless fighting is how you understand the world.

When the F-word is celebrated there is usually a pyramid of participation: at the top are the few instigators, below them is a handful of enforcers, and at the bottom lies the multitude of victims. For the powerful, the F-word is praised as strategic; for the powerless it is frowned on as rebellious.

We live in a culture where fighting is both frowned on and normalized. People fight over money, property lines, jobs, vaccines, bad driving – any personal or ideological difference you can imagine. Movies feature heroes who resort to violence to avenge some other violence. The sports epidemic in our culture imagines you have to ‘go to war’ if you want to win.

Christians can love the F-word too. They can fight over rights, beliefs, morals, territory, methods, tribes. Some even use faith as an excuse to label, punish, or dehumanize others they don’t approve of. ²

fighting: pawns v pawns

“When I pray for peace, I pray not only that the enemies of my own country may cease to want war, but above all that my country will cease to do the things that make war inevitable.” – Thomas Merton

Most who witnessed the horrible events of 9/11 believed retaliation against the terrorists was the right thing to do. Fine, but now we have a truer peek into the cost of that F-word.³

• Wars related to 9/11 have cost over 8 trillion dollars for the U.S. alone.
• 940,000 people have died directly from the fighting.
• 3.8 million more died indirectly from starvation, thirst, disease, displacement, loss of infrastructure, secondary violence.
• There have been approximately 38 million refugees and displaced persons.
• Four times as many American soldiers have died by suicide than died in combat.
• These statistics are incomplete and ongoing.

See that? The F-word caused more suffering for the innocent than it did for the guilty, bringing pain to hordes of innocent people, including their own. Fighting doesn’t bring justice, it multiplies injustice!

Fast forward to a few weeks ago when the President (sigh…) ordered an attack on nuclear facilities in Iran (an admittedly complex issue). In the aftermath he posted: “Congratulations to our great American Warriors. There is not another military in the World that could have done this. NOW IS THE TIME FOR PEACE.” He grouped warriors, bombs, and peace together into the same word salad without irony, or insight.

The next day he ended with a flourish: “I wanta’ just say, We love you God and love our great military.” Knucklehead evangelicals ignored the pandering God-talk and praised the President for taking the fight to the Middle East where they are hoping for Armageddon.

But let’s be clear – God’s shalom (deep peace and meaning) can’t coexist with the violence of the F-word. A lifestyle of intimidation is unsustainable and will inevitably collapse on itself or, as Jesus said, “Those who live by the sword, die by the sword”.

fighting: the antidote to peace

Philip Yancey has quoted C.S. Lewis’s observation: “… almost all crimes of christian history have come about when religion is confused with politics. Politics, which always runs by the rules of ungrace, allures us to trade away grace for power, a temptation the church has often been unable to resist.”

Christians are taught that humans are naturally sinful, that God saved the world through death, that the world will end with violence, so naturally their obsession with the F-word drives them to vote, speak, act, and enforce actions that lash out against things they don’t approve of.

(Update: We recently watched season two of Netflix’s “Shiny, Happy People” which is a riveting and frightening expose of this brand of evangelicalism. A must-watch if you dare.)

Yet scattered throughout the Bible (that christians love to quote) we see that ‘sound doctrine’ has less to do with morals or beliefs and more to do with love and justice. Significant numbers of christians today are fighting a cornucopia of imagined demons and made-up culture wars while ignoring Jesus’ basic command to love enemies (gulp), and pray for them (ouch).

This is a good place to hear from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian who experienced imprisonment and death for his outspoken resistance to the Nazi’s.

“Christianity stands or falls with its revolutionary protest against violence, arbitrariness and pride of power and with its plea for the weak. Christians are doing too little to make these points clear rather than too much. Christendom adjusts itself far too easily to the worship of power. Christians should give more offense, shock the world far more, than they are doing now. Christian should take a stronger stand in favor of the weak rather than considering first the possible right of the strong.

fighting: loss of meaning

A few days ago we watched a news channel while enjoying a summer lunch of crackers, cheese, veggies, and potato salad. At some point a reporter shared a report about the desperation of people living in Gaza. It became a memorable moment when the most beautiful little girl, perhaps four or five years old, appeared on the TV monitor.

Out of respect, her face was blurred and the family were not identified, but it was clear they were distressed. The most beautiful girl lay silently with only a blanket between her and the ground. Her eyes were empty, fragile skin stretched over her skeleton, and she was unable to move as creeping starvation paralyzed her.

Why was the most beautiful girl starving? Because Hamas and Israel are so full of hatred that they are using starvation as a weapon against one another. And the evil is ignored, blessed, financed by millions of people around the world who believe the war is God’s will.

At the end of the video we were able to see the most beautiful girl again. She was laying in the same place as before, yet now there was an eerie stillness about her … she had died while the film crew were in her home.

In that moment I hated the F-word and all who demand it, obey it, live it, allow it.

fighting: endgame

Another forkful of potato salad slid into my mouth but the irony hit me at the first chew. The most beautiful girl deserved a mouthful of food more than I ever had – she had died from lack of food while I was emptying my full plate. This innocent child of  God had lived most of her life running from war and death; I had lived mine worried about comfort and theology.

Yes, she had died in their war zone, but she had died in my world. The questions are challenging.

• What fights do I ignore because they don’t affect me?
• What instigators do I enable?
• Are my fights petty? Do people suffer because of the emotional or spiritual war zones I create?
• How do I begin to replace my instinct to fight with an instinct to be gracious?

The way we treat our Creator’s children reveals how we think about our Creator. Disciples of Jesus should bless rather than curse. We should love justice more than we love fighting. 

The most beautiful girl is in the arms of Jesus.

The people of the F-word were never worthy of her.

~    ~    ~ 

¹ Source: Musixmatch  Songwriters: John Cameron Fogerty. Fortunate Son lyrics © Jondora Music, Shanty Kelyn Music, Concord Copyrights

² Surveys consistently show that conservative christians prefer keeping the death penalty even if it means occasionally killing innocent people.

³ The Costs of War Project (highly recommended, website or social media)

Image by Riki32 from Pixabay

Music: Fork in the Road, Grumpynora, Unknown Album

Music: Be Thou My Vision, Unknown Artist

Spring is well underway here in the rolling hills of Northumberland, although a recent period of frigid temperatures has given our fragile psyches one last kick. Nevertheless, this is the time of year when Canadians return to our curious rituals like spying new greenery, boiling tree sap, and wearing shorts too early.

While I enjoy living in wintry places, I have to admit there is nothing quite so invigorating as the seasonal warmth and renewal. Tepid temperatures have unveiled grass and straw-coloured fields while patches of snow still hide desperately in shady areas. The winter freeze melts into rivulets of clear water that pools, then flows again toward thirsty low places.

Each year the spring melt brings back a particular memory from my childhood that happened in the wide ditch along highway 41 near our home. For most of the year the ditch didn’t do much ditching but when spring arrived it would turn into a watercourse of ad hoc currents gurgling through crags of melting ice.

In that moment I am a nine or ten year old boy walking in the ditch like any nine or ten year old would do. The sun is bright and warm and I’m looking down at sparkling water as it swamps and swirls musically around my rubber boots. Suddenly – whoosh! – I step into a deeper, hidden pocket. One boot overflows with icy wetness and as I stumble the other boot joins it, leaving me with the dreaded ‘double soaker’!

But the busy water takes no notice of soakers and young boys take no notice of soggy socks because nature is warming us, pulling us, toward more springtime.

And a moment is born.

It was unthinkable at the time, but that silly childhood excursion would become more than a memory. On that day, in that ditch, one icy misstep would become a familiar moment that would return to me each year during the spring runoff.

We often talk about the importance of memories but memories are nothing more than snapshots, lessons, historical data. On the other hand, a ‘moment’ is mystical – a melding of emotions and senses into something that will be close and familiar for our entire life. Moments will never happen again but come back to us as brief, real, meaningful recollections. A moment can be born out of either happiness or pathos but always brings peace and wellness when it comes back to us.

Maybe it has to do with getting older but I find myself returning to all sorts of past moments. For example, familiar music from “back in the day” often resurfaces in my thoughts: 60s protest songs, hymns, television commercials, theme songs. Just today I smiled at a favourite scene from “The Bugs Bunny Show” for no apparent reason, and later in the day twelve words from an ancient Sunday School chorus got stuck in my brain. I have even downloaded the song “Four Strong Winds” by Ian and Sylvia Tyson, a briefly married, marginally talented, Canadian folk/country duo you’ve never heard of. Why? Because it was some kind of moment from my childhood.

Moments are often sad, frequently happy, mostly complicated, always indescribable.

fireflies on a summer evening;

the smell of a book, the curvature of the font;

considering the lyrics of a sad song;

the soft nose of the horse across the road;

the Chateaugay river at night;

three girls (JH, PZ, MZ) singing Beatle tunes during recess;

grade 2 and laughing uproariously at The Cat In the Hat Comes Back;

best ever homemade tomato sauce (Joan) or roast beef (Bon);

a foggy morning on a glassy Kempenfelt Bay;

the way Dr. Hall held his Bible;

an afternoon nap under sumacs;

that new discovery that made my mind pop;

a worn, rounded hymnal;

final goodbyes.

In my mind, each has its own scene, texture, sensibility, warmth. Even sad feelings somehow bring reassurance and calm when they have become a moment. They are my moments, my miracles, precious and real.

Do you have moments? Familiar, reassuring experiences that flash into your mind?

Some of you might remember the Precious Moments fad from the ’80s. Precious Moments are adorable collectable figurines with soft, innocent faces, pastel colours, and thoughtful themes. They are shy, winsome, irresistible – it’s what makes them precious.

Would Precious Moment figurines be as effective if they were jagged creatures with fascist themes and angry faces? Well, it might create a memory but it would never create a moment. That’s because fear, guilt, anger – while memorable – tend to occupy the space in our souls, leaving no room for precious moments.

The world feels very unsteady and dangerous right now. That’s because it is. Good people have allowed the insanity of evil to be normalized and even to flourish. Here in Canada we are in a federal election and I am shocked daily at how good people have allowed themselves to be caught in the web of desperation. They insult those who disagree with them and circulate ridiculous propaganda without thought or conviction.

And there are always soulless politicians, religious leaders, and their generals who love this. They steal our precious moments with a strategy of warning, scaring, guilting, flooding us with negativity. Is this the freedom of thought, worship, expression our democracies were built on? It this the biblical writer’s vision of Creation being released from “the bondage of decay” or “the glorious freedom of the children of God”?

This weekend Christians celebrate Palm Sunday. Palm Sunday recalls the ludicrous moment when Jesus rode a donkey ahead of  a procession of smelly, weak, impoverished, common people into the city of Jerusalem. It was in open defiance to the lunacy of the most powerful political and religious leaders in their world.

To the Powers at the time it was a pitiful sideshow to be watched; to future believers and history itself, it became a precious moment. God’s kingdom of ‘the least’ literally marched into the lair of oppressive worldly systems.

The world was very dangerous that day when Jesus entered Jerusalem. It has always that way – even back when you and I created our precious moments. But don’t kid yourself – there can be no more moments if we are preoccupied by the rancour that surrounds us.

Moments keeps us rational and healthy and we still need them because they are built from the very best things in life. That’s why we need to slow down and experience new moments of clarity, meaning, thoughtfulness.

So please, please, please … be careful with yourself. Don’t let dark forces steal your mind, your voice, your joy. Don’t live in their smallness, hate, arguments, vindictiveness. Don’t let the evil wound your heart, and don’t let the insanity callous your soul.

Just don’t.

We are alive. There is beauty. It is spring, and God is warming us, pulling us, toward new, life-giving moments.

~       ~       ~

Music: Fork In the Road, Grumpynora, Unknown Album 

Image by Bruno from Pixabay

Well, we just survived one of the busiest retail days of the year. Valentine’s Day is an anxious time for many people (not for me, I have a credit card). In one sense it’s easy: blah blah blah flowers, blah blah blah dinner, blah blah blah gift. Blah blah blah love. But of course it’s more complicated than that.

I’ll admit that having a designated day to celebrate love can be a healthy rhythm in our lives if it shifts our attention off ourselves and onto others. At the same time, if we need a day of social pressure to help us love someone, then maybe we aren’t doing it well in the first place.

You likely didn’t notice, but I ended the audio portion of my last blog with the words, I love you. Kind of creepy, I know. How can I say I love you when I don’t even know most of you?

But that’s the thing. As christians, we (technically) shouldn’t have to know you in order to love you. We shouldn’t need to know where you’re from, what you think, or how you live. Wait, what? No conditions on love?

Obviously it’s difficult to love others but we can do it if we choose to. Jesus says so.

Bibles could always be found in various places around the home I grew up in. Like many evangelical families, we attended weekly church services, Sunday School, mid-week studies, as well as church camps and conventions where the Bible was central to the proceedings. That continual exposure ensured my absorption of Bible-knowledge whether I wanted it or not. In fact, when I was barely able to read I memorized Revelation 3:20 because … well, why wouldn’t I?

Evangelical christians are taught that this collection of ancient Judeo-Christian writings is divinely inspired which implies a responsibility to read the Bible and also learn it, believe it, obey it. Unfortunately, most church people don’t actually realize how it came to us or how to interact with it.¹

Through its history too many christians have used Scripture as a blunt force weapon but the Bible has much more to say than the single-minded sermons many are subjected to in church.² Maybe the Bible would be more productive if we used it as a mirror instead of as a sword.

There are a multitude of themes in the Bible that church-goers rarely hear about from their pastors or leaders.³ When we let it breathe for itself, the Bible’s history, literature, metaphors, relationships, stories, arguments, myths, wisdom, can speak past the simple stories and cultural biases … into our hearts and minds.

One of those themes is the underlying standard of love that weaves itself though the hearts of even the darkest biblical stories. Wait, what am I saying? Love is the biggest theme of Scripture.

That was an important point in Matthew 22 when religious leaders tried to corner Jesus with an awkward, open-ended question about the most important rule of life.

“… an expert in religious law, tried to trap him with this question: ‘Teacher, which is the most important commandment in the law of Moses?’

^“Jesus replied, ‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”  (NLT)

Jesus’ answer was surprisingly easy …  love God with everything you are, then love everything else the way you want to be loved. If he had left his words hanging at that point there may have been further argument but Jesus went on to disarm them with a devastating truth:

“The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments.”  

The entirety of their scriptures – the same scriptures they used to attack and control and manipulate – those same scriptures could be condensed into two simple commands from God about love.

The answer required such insight and purity that overtly religious people had trouble seeing it, and in the end, their weapon of scripture wasn’t a weapon at all.

But if love is so simple, why do christians struggle with it? Why do we insist on enforcing our selected morals and quirky viewpoints while brushing aside the one primary, unified theme of the Bible?

Part of the answer is that love is difficult – really really really difficult. Love is hard because it asks us to give up something from ourselves for the benefit of another. Love is hard because it requires us to let go of the dangerous things we like to cling to: comfort, prejudices, money, winning, even hatred.

Love is also difficult because we must choose it even when it is unpopular. An instruction from 1 John tasks us to love “with actions and truth”. In other words, love can be any size of friendship or kindness but there are times when it requires us to act boldly and bravely in defense of truth.

Love may be difficult but it is also natural for those who live for God. We can do that by reorienting our words, our choices, our actions, our theology, and our hearts toward love. I wonder how healing it would be if christians began to see the image of God in every person and every thing?

Maybe love would be easier if we understood it as the essential element of christian living. Maybe it would be easier if we spent less energy complaining and grasping for love in the emotions of Sunday mornings. Maybe it would be better if we invested ourselves more in discovering the untapped love in the world around us every day.

“God is love”. Take some time to ponder that, it’s in the Bible.

All through it, in fact.

~       ~       ~

¹ In current pop-evangelicalism, the Bible is considered the only source of belief (sola scriptura). That is extremely dangerous when you think about it because it allows biased humans to interpret it as they see fit. (It’s one of the reasons we have more than 45,000 denominations, each claiming unique insight.)

Through history much of the rest of Christianity has been able to hold the Bible more loosely while still valuing it. Even in my own Methodist roots there is a tradition of interpreting belief through the lens of the Bible as well as creation, reason, tradition, and experience.

² “Beware of any Christian movement that acts as though the world is full of enemies to be destroyed rather than full of neighbours to be loved. Beware of any Christian movement that demands the government be an instrument of God’s wrath but never a source of God’s mercy, generosity or compassion.”                                             ~ Rev. Benjamin Cremer on X

³ I couldn’t begin to list them, but for example: benefits of both Temple & Wilderness; the evils of empires; warnings re: money & possessions; dangers of political and religious power; God’s intimacy with Creation; importance of art and music; meanings of the Cross; new heavens and new earth; hiddenness of sin; normalcy of immigration; importance of justice; value of pain; communal responsibility; on and on.

Music: Unknown Album, Grumpynora

Photo by Leighann Blackwood on Unsplash

After a prolonged sabbatical* I’m getting back to this blog thing because: A) I miss you; 2) I love you; c) I forget; D) something’s wrong; D) all the above. If you are exceptionally bright you probably chose ‘D’ but it’s also permissible to choose ‘D’ or any of the others.

I was originally going to write about some breaking news but another piece of news broke before I could finish. Just then, more news broke, followed by some more, until I finally realized all the news that day was broken.

First I was going to write about the allegations that makers of frozen potato products were colluding to drive up prices. Big Oil, Big Pharma, Big Potato! This is devastating news for hard working people who depend on highly processed potato products for their daily nutrition. And who of us doesn’t enjoy a plate of Tater Tots with a mound of ketchup and a side of creamed corn?

But then I heard that fundamentalists had criticized some of Taylor Swift’s lyrics. (Yes, I know who Taylor Swift is … I might be old but even I know he created Yellowstone.) Mind you, fundamentalists used to say bad things about Alice Cooper too, and she turned out to be a better christian than most of them.

Then I heard that some religious types had declared the fires in southern California to be God’s punishment for being all liberal and such. The rest of us figured the fires had more to do with humans starting them in high winds during a drought, but whatever…

The big news came with the U.S. inauguration that brought a new, old President into the White House. His cabinet consists of a long list of grifters, brown-nosers, abusers, and crazies – the same staffing approach favoured by many Bible-belt mega-churches.

See what I mean? It’s like the news never stops.

Then came the Inaugural Prayer Service in Washington National Cathedral. Episcopal Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde spoke to the nation about unity and how it can only come through dignity, honesty, humility. She ended her sermon by urging the President to “have mercy” on those who are living in fear.

The President and his allies sat grim-faced and motionless through the proceedings but responded afterward with a bullhorn of bitterness and contempt. They called the Bishop a disgrace and demanded the Episcopal Church replace her. One lawmaker introduced a resolution to have her officially reprimanded by Congress. Republicans plainly don’t think of her as a man of God.

This was all very predictable but wasn’t the fault of the President. What was troubling was how many christian pastors and priests joined in the vitriol. I watched as conservative christians strained out a brand of godliness that didn’t have time for something as basic as christian mercy.¹

A few days later I stumbled on an article summarizing an interview with a high profile evangelical. He had appeared on a right-wing news channel and the poisonous opinions he shared around the world still anger me. He defended the President unconditionally and criticized the Bishop by using redirection, bad logic, cultural biases, and sham theology to justify his outrage.

To sum up: a christian Bishop, in a christian nation, speaking in a christian church, saying christian things, was attacked for saying them – by christians. They heard her quiet plea for mercy and dismissed it because it upset the head of state.

My personal news cycle ground to a halt for the next couple of days while pop evangelical christians (PECs) woke-shamed Bishop Budde and disregarded her plea for mercy. Love your neighbour mercy, means of salvation mercy, Sermon on the Mount mercy, inconvenient mercy.

On the surface, the powers-that-be didn’t like a sermon about mercy because it included immigrants, other faiths, and lifestyles they didn’t like. As the christian operatives expressed their disdain for the Bishop they also revealed their ignorance of the ways of Jesus who didn’t seek to control, coerce, or condemn.

I thought of the biblical prophet Amos, who spoke against confident, complacent worshipers who participated in extravagant assemblies with loud music and fund-raising. Nevertheless God “despises” their worship because of their disregard for justice and righteousness in the world around them.² Prophets were never popular. Can you see why?

So as the news cycle continued, I began to understand the Bishop-blasters from a different perspective. They didn’t resent her because she was wrong but because she was right. And the more they resisted her words, the more their arguments, attitudes, body language pushed a single word to the front of my brain – soulless.

The original biblical word for ‘soul’ is connected to the throat – literally the physical channel we use for air, water, nourishment, and self expressions. The word describes the things that generate and maintain wholesome life. When I use the word soulless I don’t mean God has literally abandoned them, but rather that they have abandoned God, to the point where they have surrendered their sacred gift of humanness and wholeness.

Christians who defend their king but deny their Saviour.

Remember the biblical story of Nicodemus? No? Well, you can Google it. Or find it in the Bible. Or Google where to find it in the Bible. Or keep reading…

Nicodemus was one of the most highly ranked religious leaders of the time: educated, wealthy, dedicated, influential. Nicodemus was immersed in a culture that justified righteousness using any means necessary. It made human sense for them to respond angrily to a radical Jesus and it seemed holy for them to resist others who didn’t live or worship as they did.

Nicodemus was a Jewish worshiper of God in every way he knew how, yet he went to Jesus secretly, for some reason not explained in the text. There was something instinctive and beautiful about how Jesus taught and lived.

If we read between the lines, it seems that something about how Nicodemus practiced his faith felt out of sync. He felt spiritually lost yet he didn’t have the words to express what was happening inside. Still, he listened to his soul, and began the conversation with Jesus by simply admitting: We all know you’re from God.

We find God when we start listening to our souls.

In response, Jesus offered Nicodemus some mysteries to ponder: the spiritual realm; tender love and mercy; what rebirth can mean; the winsome Spirit of God. The mysteries gave Nicodemus a place to begin pulling on the loose threads of what he had been taught. As his story unfolds in scripture it seems that he slowly began restructuring his faith around something more substantial than religious performance. Nicodemus had met love and mercy in the flesh and that’s where he restarted his journey.

Love and mercy.

~       ~       ~

* Oxford Languages

¹ I am often drawn to this famous quote:

  ” … between the Christianity of this land, and the Christianity of Christ, I recognize the widest possible difference—so wide, that to receive the one as good, pure, and holy, is of necessity to reject the other as bad, corrupt, and wicked. To be the friend of the one, is of necessity to be the enemy of the other … I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial Christianity of Christ…” Frederick Douglass (1818-1895), former slave and abolitionist

² For example, Amos 5:21-27 which ends with: “You have lifted up the shrine of your king, the pedestal of your idols, the star of your god – which you made for yourselves.”

Image: Pexels from Pixabay

Music: Unknown Album, Grumpynora

Well, there it went. You remember Christmas, don’t you? It already feels far in the past, even though The Brick furniture stores are still advertising their “extended Boxing Week Sale” three weeks later.

First we journeyed through the annual celebration we call Advent, from the Greek words ‘ad’ (advertise) and ‘vent’ (express frustration). Advent was the preface to Christmas, from the Greek words ‘christ’ (christ) and ‘mass’ (mass). At least I think so.

Remember how the stores and internets bustled with shoppers, especially during Black Friday Month? (Between you and me, Black Friday is much more enjoyable now that I know it’s for people of all colours.)

This year millions of christians continued to protest the war on Christmas by bravely decorating their homes, over-spending, and over-eating. Fortunately the incoming American President has promised evangelicals he will rescue Christmas and bring it back again after many years of it not having gone anywhere.

Here in the Dominion of Canada some of the faithful decided to pressure various levels of government to declare December as ‘Christian Heritage Month’. Believing we’re a christian nation is the favourite pastime of christians who don’t believe we’re a christian nation.

Wait, where was I? Oh yes, in the middle of January, 2025.

Christmas lights have darkened, yet an obvious question about Jesus’ birthday remains largely ignored: Did we do it well? Did any kind of meaningful light shine from all our Christmas lightings? More to the point, how should we do it?

Would Jesus sit in church on Christmas Eve, singing carols, and lighting candles? Maybe.* Would he strap on a party hat on New Years Eve, eat oven hors d’oeuvres, and raise a glass of miracle wine? Possibly. But what would he think of the cultural tsunami of excess, self-indulgence, faux-joy?

I think Jesus would sense the underlying loneliness, greed, and despair that secretly accompanies Christmas and I think he would walk toward it. It’s likely he would trudge past most of our church services to a hospital or homeless encampment, and it’s certain he would make a party happen in the home of some lonely or searching soul.

If you consider yourself a christian, the same question can be asked another way: If Jesus had a do-over and ended up in our community, how would he occupy himself in December and January? Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he loves a good party and gift giving puts a smile on his face, but what about his precious ones who aren’t able to have those things?

That’s the dark side of Christmas, and it’s a world that is just as hidden and real each passing year.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” ¹

Don’t forget that the joyful birth of Jesus happened in a conquered place during a period cloaked in social, spiritual, economic darkness. The biblical accounts of Jesus’ birth look different from each other but all contain difficult, sorrowful events.

The writings of Matthew make us aware of the politics of the time – a militaristic empire, sociopathic dictators, and religious leaders who cooperate with them. A brooding, narcissistic King Herod dominates the story, justifying the secretive manoeuvrings of Jesus’ family and the visiting Magi.

Luke spins the classic tale of inns, swaddlings, shepherds, angels, enough warm-n-fuzzies to turn a simple Charlie Brown cartoon into a classic. Luke acknowledges the plight of those who are not doing well – the poor, sick, lonely, burdened, female.

One other biblical source speaks of Jesus’s birth, but John does it from an entirely different perspective. There is no baby narrative – no doting parents, no angel choirs, no gifts. Instead, the writer evokes images of the creation of the cosmos as way to unveil Jesus’ pedigree as the eternal one of God; the pre-existent Christ who became a human named Jesus.

But John has little time for political theatre. Herod is nowhere to be found in the entire book and Caesar is only a footnote to the Crucifixion. It’s as if John knows that powerful empires and strong rulers and religious overlords don’t fix darkness – they create it.

Instead, John draws on the darkness of Creation and the darkness felt by the prophets as a way of introducing the cosmic Christ as the ultimate Light. The only light that can shine in spite of evil.

“Let us have eyes of faith to perceive and believe that every Herod will pass, every Caesar will fade, for empires have an expiry date. And let us remember that it is the meek, not the powerful, who will inherit the earth.” ~ Rev. Dr. Munther Isaac

As 2025 begins, some of you may be sensing the darkness. Perhaps it’s because of politics, health, relationships, finances, whatever, and you feel a brooding sense of disorder. Maybe you are spiritually restless, disillusioned, or uncomfortable with your faith.

Good. That means your soul is alive and still has the instinct to know there is More.

I have felt the darkness at various times in my life – even recently. There are far too many daily worries, senseless deaths, political fascists, religious hucksters. But it’s more than that. I feel like the Christianity I was raised in now prefers conspiracy theories, moral platitudes, closed beliefs, and political fanaticism over simple love and truth.

The product marketed by a lot of Christianity looks less and less like Good News. Fundamentalists these days enforce rules and morals Jesus didn’t speak of and brazenly preach ideals he opposed. I now realize I haven’t been leaving them so much as they have been leaving God.

Maybe you can relate, maybe you can’t, maybe you don’t know what to think. That’s why I’d like to blog more about why so many of us are re-examining what we believe. The sabbatical was nice but I’ve reloaded this site so we can share, think, and maybe tip a whole bunch more dangerous idols. (Info coming soon about some tweaks we’re making!)

Yet I’m in a good place – not naive, just in a good place. God is higher, wider, deeper than ever before. I have accepted that darkness is part of the journey and I’m learning to find light in and around me.

Darkness is not only inevitable, it’s necessary for lifesaving hope and renewal. In darkness we become God’s diaspora – the scattered but faithful people who sidestep religion and politics in order to pursue peace, beauty, and justice on earth.² Our task isn’t to stop the dark so much as it is to tear a bright, shining hole in it so we can all begin to see.

“The light shines in the darkness,
    and the darkness can never extinguish it.”   ~ John 1, NLT 

It’s not easy to be in darkness, I get it. Nobody wants to be, yet that’s exactly where our struggles discover true light. As Wendell Berry wrote: “Go without sight, and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings …”³

~   ~   ~

* First, it would quite possibly be a synagogue and second, he’d feel pretty awkward sitting there celebrating himself …

¹ Martin Luther King Jr.

² As I final edit this, news of Jimmy Carter’s funeral is unfolding. During his presidency his own people (evangelical christians) stopped supporting him because he was too humble, gracious, inclusive, peace-loving. Too Christ-like. Yet his post-presidency accomplishments were more significant. Outside the halls of power his life made a difference because he set aside the darkness of political power to follow the light of kindness and service. 

³ To Know the Dark, by Wendell Berry, from ‘Soul Food – Nourishing Poems for Starved Minds’

In season six of Seinfeld, Jerry and Elaine happen to see George’s father (Frank) talking to a man wearing a cape. Naturally they think this is odd so they mention it to George, who in turn meets his dad for lunch so he can ask about the mysterious cape wearer.

George: Jerry and Elaine saw you [the other day].
Frank:   They didn’t say hello?
George: Well, they were in a rush.
Frank:   They couldn’t just say hello? Ah, the hell with them.
George: They said you were with some guy who was wearing a cape.
Frank:   Elaine, I can see not saying hello. She’s very… what’s the word? Supercilious.

~ Seinfeld, S6, E4: ‘The Chinese Woman’

Sadly, we never learn why the man was wearing a cape and worse, we are never told the meaning of ‘supercilious’.

too common a theme

I subscribe to a variety of christian news letters, blogs, and social media because keeping an eye on religious culture is my primary occupation now. Like my previous jobs, I still operate at a deficit.

Anyway, the U.S is well into its election year and much of the discussion still surrounds evangelical support for presidential wannabes. One such pastor appeared on a news network and was asked to explain why he was supporting a notably unsavoury candidate.

He began his answer by assuring the viewers that he would never allow any of the candidates to teach Sunday School in his church. Hmm… The pastor then went on to say that he was campaigning for the person he believed would enforce the values that were most important to he and his congregation.

Translation: Godliness isn’t practical in the real world so we need ungodly people to enforce our strict brand of morality. 

That pastor sure does sound supercilious. Oh, I almost forgot: supercilious means pompous, smug, unbending, preachy.

It is an easy temptation for christians to take their righteousness so seriously that they become unseeing, unhearing, and unfeeling. Like Frank in the Seinfeld episode, they think others are supercilious when in fact they themselves are.

super supercilious

There is a proverb that “Empty vessels make the most noise”.

I thought of that last June during PRIDE month. I recognize there are still differing opinions on the subject in the Christian community but a well known evangelical evangelist took it on himself to declare that God hates our pride, and God hates PRIDE.

Why would a high profile christian leader feel the need to say backhandedly that the LGBTQ community are ‘hated’ by God? Why had he not learned that 60% of gay people already experience discrimination? And are 4 times more likely to attempt suicide? I mean, why leave the word ‘hate’ hanging in the air?

On a broader scale, why do the people of God continue to promote conversion therapy when we have learned it more than doubles suicide attempts? Why do they ignore the statistics showing that an affirming adult in a gay or trans person’s life reduces self-harm by nearly 40%?

Do they know? Do they care? Or is superciliousness at the core of their religion?

empty vessels

The supercilious among us have a high aptitude for legalism and disagreement but a low aptitude for humility and kindness. They prefer to speak without critical thought, wrapping their frustrations in the broad labels and selective truths their friends and followers want to hear.

Oh, but look at me. I’m being all supercilious…

Jesus wasn’t supercilious. I mean, God coming to earth as a human says it more than anything could. He spent time with those who were being scapegoated and dehumanized: tax collectors, lepers, women, religious people, even sinners. The crowds of people flocked to hear him because his sermons were truthful and refreshing.

Issues didn’t matter; people did.

Jesus’ observation of the Pharisees in Luke 18 was that their idea of thankfulness was based on “great confidence in their own righteousness” and their scorn for everyone else. The problem with supercilious christians is the energy they spend on others leaves them ill equipped to examine the dangers within themselves.

Tolstoy got to the core of it: “Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.”

love and acceptance

Testimonials show that one of the most powerful benefits of Alcoholics Anonymous is acceptance from a group of people who know you by name, aren’t fooled by you, yet refuse to judge you. We all want to live in a world where we care for each other rather than pointing fingers. This isn’t about ignoring sin, it’s about wisely loving others.

Brian Zahnd recently said on X: ” The biblical test case for love of God is love of neighbour; and the biblical test case for love of neighbour is love of enemy … This is the rigorous demand of being a disciple of Jesus.”

As always, we should look to Jesus. He didn’t fit any of the categories of the culture around him. He had strong values but he didn’t apply them with force or fear, and he didn’t belittle or sneer in the process.

When enemies tried to trap him with controversial issues he would answer with unexpected, probing insights into their own hearts and motives. Instead of salting the ground with criticism, Jesus planted the good news that God’s empire of love was now among them. He challenged them to live in that truth.

mellow

We occasionally play background music through the day and one of the sources is a cable TV channel which shares bits of light jazz, soft rock, adult pop, and gentle show tunes. Boring but nicely mellow.

One day my ears picked out a melody that sounded like a religious hymn from my past. I waited for some foreign notes to confirm it was something else but the familiar sounds persisted. A glance at the monitor confirmed that Softly and Tenderly was filling our living space with softness and tenderness.

It’s composition was irresistible. I melded with the strings, silently mouthing the lyrics as memory allowed, throat clenching, eyes brimming. It stayed with me for days: Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling … Come home, come home…

In those moments I was reminded that I had never reached for Jesus because of a rule, a doctrine, a brusque voice, a church service, a forceful argument, a preached sermon. A cable music channel reminded me of the patience and love that had drawn me in the first place.

We all have to return home once in a while, even if it doesn’t feel like we’ve left. But if we don’t return to the tenderness of Jesus, we become dangerously supercilious.

Jesus doesn’t ask us to look at others, he invites us to join him in looking inside ourselves.

~      ~      ~

Photo by Arthur Miranda on Unsplash

Some of you will remember this pop song from the 80s. Olivia Newton John appeared in a music video sporting a sweatband, a fashionably tight leotard, and a set of those stupid leg warmer things. A bunch of dudes sweated clumsily in the background while Olivia, the thin, confident fitness instructor, sang suggestively about getting physical and stuff. Remember now?

You old and medium-old timers want to sing it, don’t you? Okay, here we go: 1-2-3-4 …

Let’s get liminal, liminal / I wanna get liminal / Let’s get into liminal

I wanna get liminal / Let’s get into liminal / Let me hear your body talk, body talk…

Okay, I may have changed one word but I that’s what popped into my brain when I started writing and now it’s stuck there in an eternal loop. Maybe it’s because 2023 has now turned into 2024 and many of us are feeling … well, liminal.

liminal space / noun

1. a state or place characterized by being transitional or intermediate in some way:

2. any location that is unsettling, uncanny, or dreamlike:¹

‘Liminal’ is from the Latin word limit, meaning ‘threshold’. Liminal spaces can be physical (a hallway, a motel), emotional (a relationship, an illness), or metaphorical (a decision, a change).

Liminal spaces are not news cycles generated by social media or corporate algorithms; they are not the natural ups and downs of daily life. They are foggy, open-ended times of unsettledness.

A common thread woven among all liminal spaces is the unfamiliarity, the discomfort, the search for arrival or completeness. Liminal spaces can feel unreal, even eerie: an empty factory; a job loss; a death. No one likes losing comfort and familiarity, although I suspect some are more equipped than others.

we’re liminal

I’ve discovered some interesting things about liminal spaces.

1. They are inevitable. You will experience liminal periods in your life no matter how you try to avoid them. Even the person who spends their life living in the same house, working for the same company, buying the same groceries every Friday night will have their life invaded by liminal spaces.
2. Liminal spaces occupy a large percentage of our lives. We crave the solid places of certainty but liminal spaces are where we are stretched, formed, and inspired.
3. There is actually a type of comfort to be found in liminal spaces because that is where we are more engaged and creative. The arts, inventions, ideas and accomplishments of all sorts, are inspired by the passion generated by liminal spaces.
4. Liminal spaces are where we are formed, strengthened, and where relationships can mature.

Think about where you are right now. Perhaps you are in a liminal space. We dislike, even hate, a liminal space because it asks us to leave the ‘me’ that is self-satisfied and stuck. Just remember that your circumstances aren’t as important as how you manage those circumstances.

liminal good

Look for it: influencers all through history are remembered by how they reacted in uncertain circumstances. The actions of every character in every book and movie are portrayed while they are in disoriented, liminal spaces.

The Bible is full of stories of unsettled, homeless people walking some sort of physical, emotional, spiritual path. In fact, you can even look at the overall flow of scripture as liminal space: hoping for a deliverer; confused in his presence; anticipating his return.

Theologian Walter Brueggemann assigns each of the biblical Psalms to categories of orientation, disorientation, or reorientation. I believe the disorientation of liminal space is what balances and propels the other times in our lives.

Christianity even divides the calendar year into various periods of liminal time: Advent and Lent for example, are simply periods of anticipation and mystery, not arrival points.

Most recently we observed Epiphany, which recalls the visit of the Magi to worship Jesus. The word ‘epiphany’ means to grasp reality through a new discovery, realization or disclosure.

The story of the Magi is about leaving comfort to search for something unknown. It is a story of following a light while traveling in darkness. It is a story of those who cling to power at any cost versus those who let go of it in order to discover more. It is a story of finding a new path home.

It is a narrative of the risks and joys of liminal spaces.

good liminal

Christians are often taught to be sure of what they believe, but that can be dangerous without the sense that there is more to explore and experience. To put it another way, if you’re always comfortable and certain in your theology then you’re not doing it right. Your spiritual life shouldn’t be governed by arrival but an ongoing, even desperate, search for the limitless God.

Liminal space is a term that really resonates with me, having left many places of comfort – both voluntarily and involuntarily – with no landing place in sight. I can remember spaces in my spiritual journey when I knew there was something more to search for it, I just had no idea where it was or how to get there.

Underlying it all was my deepest conviction that God understood my restlessness and encouraged it. I was able to feel okay in the liminal spaces because Love was walking with me.

There will be liminal spaces for us in 2024, maybe even through the entire year. Will you defy those spaces and stay where you are? Or will you allow those spaces to move you into a better way, a better you?

I’m still surprised at the people I meet who are christians, go to church, apply all the formulas, but are dissatisfied and feeling a void inside. Good for them. And good for you.

That’s what liminal spaces were made for.

Let’s get into liminal.

~     ~     ~

¹ Dictionary.com

Photo by Lee Young on Unsplash

I lived in northern New York State during the late 60s and early 70s. Good people died while the Vietnam Conflict burned on the other side of the world and the nation wrestled with how much war should be enough.

Despite the unrest, Christmas felt wholesome and festive during those years. People filled the stores and shopped shoulder-to-shoulder in the days before they could do it online. Plenty of gifts under the tree and a blanket of snow always completed the fantasy.

Each year the people in our church would squeeze into a table-filled side room and share the beloved Christmas banquet. Potlucks are a wondrous gift: affordable, flavourful, personal.

After the food was devoured someone would distribute preserved copies of a multi-page insert from the local Watertown Daily Times newspaper. The sheets of newsprint contained a collection of traditional Christmas writings, songs, and carols.   

There were always two compositions in the handout that stared back at me. One was the endearing response to a little girl’s inquiry about Santa (Yes Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus) and the other was the heavy, roiling song, I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day.

The familiar carol was based on a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and it always jolted me back to reality. To Longfellow, the biblical proclamation of “Peace on earth” wasn’t easily apparent in the bloody horrors of the Civil War.

A hundred years later his words screamed back at me as a teenager. And now, a hundred and fifty years later, I’m still searching for a reason to believe the angels.

It’s as true as ever. Innocents die in the rubble of Gaza, the fight for Ukraine drags into another winter, fissures of hostility are opening here at home. All this continues as smug dictators and cowardly politicians fan the flames of hatred, stroking their own egos from high places of safety.

Kind, rational people still wonder where peace is. We are still horrified by the violence, we still feel powerless to respond, and in despair we bow our heads.

Peace on earth was clearly extolled at the birth of Jesus but the dilemma has always been that peace is hard to find, impossible to create. The christian explanations seem easy enough:

‘Peace is in our hearts’ they promise;

‘Peace is inside anyone who accepts Jesus as their Saviour’ they counsel.

Yes, it’s true: God can give us a peace in our hearts that the world can’t give, and a peace that can’t be taken away.

Yet, that only goes so far. You would think that people who are at peace would be, you know … full of peace. But often christians proclaim peace while they are involved in proliferating un-peace. The idea of internal peace quickly becomes selfish and tiresome to a world of unrest.

 There is no question the christian faith has peace at its core. As Jesus suggests in John 27, there is an inner peace and wellness that comes from being in healthy communion with the Spirit of God. This peace is more than a ‘sinner’s prayer’ – it is a total reorientation of how we learn, think, talk, and act.

I recently watched a video on Instagram several times to be sure I was seeing and hearing it correctly. In it, an internet prankster showed up at an anti-abortion rally attended by chanting, praying, sign-carrying evangelicals. Through his bullhorn the guy announced that he was joining them because he cared about the lives of babies too.

He argued that he cared about their lives after they were born, too! So he began chanting for universal healthcare, lunch programs for hungry kids, more affordable housing, and guaranteed family incomes.

Some of the protesters ignored him, some tried to remove him, most just grimaced. One church lady refused to listen to him and continued praying loudly, hands raised, eyes closed, oblivious to the irony.

Some did respond. They suggested that parents (not taxpayers) should feed and house their kids and the nation can’t afford luxuries like healthcare. When it was suggested that cutting the military budget could benefit babies after they were born, one woman responded that the number one priority of the nation should be military spending.

Yes, she basically said that the most important thing we can do for people is build more ways to kill people…

Life rally. Christian. So called. She was honest (and ignorant) enough to say out loud but what our actions around the world say every day.

Longfellow was right. There is no peace on earth and hatred mocks us when we try to speak of it. But the famous American poet didn’t see hate as inevitable either. Longfellow concluded that God would eventually see this thing through, and I agree. What he failed to clarify is that the plan is painfully slow because God has chosen to work through his people.

You. Me. Us.

I’m reminded of 1 John, “He (Jesus) came to his own, but his own people did not accept him.” It feels like ‘his own’ don’t recognize the presence or the purpose of God. It feels like we are still learning that peace on earth begins inside us but also has to be shared and enforced by us.

What if christians – even a fraction of them – actually decided to follow Jesus? What if we lived a proactive, intentional peace instead of a passive, silent peace?

What if we lead the way and refuse to support war? What if we stop giving money where it’s wasted on anything but human need? What if we stop voting for politicians who fuel anger and hate? What if we refuse to support pastors and churches who are partisan and politicized?

What if we made peace the core of our politics, our values, our choices? What if we live peacefully at work, in our car, at church, at the dinner table?

Not peace at any cost, but peace that forms us.

I’ll tell you what will happen: the world will (slowly) become more and more peaceful.

The angels declaration of “Peace on earth” is more than a lofty promise, it is a confirmation of its importance. Peace is so central that the living God came to earth to help us accomplish it. God is not sleeping, he is inviting us into a fresh, new world turned upside down.

As you celebrate Christmas this year, please make peace the centrepiece of your thoughts and words and activities. Perhaps this portion of Maya Angelou’s Christmas Poem can begin the process.

We, Angels and Mortal’s, Believers and Non-Believers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation.

Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul.

~ from Maya Angelou’s, Amazing Peace: A Christmas Poem

~     ~     ~

Photo by James Handley on Unsplash

At first glance PreachersNSneakers seems like satire but it isn’t. What began as a simple Instagram account now includes other social media, merchandise, a podcast, and a book.

For those who haven’t heard of it, PreachersNSneakers is self explanatory: it posts pictures of preachers wearing, you guessed it … sneakers. It’s just that these preachers are more cool and stylish than chubby Reverend Thompson because their sneakers cost several hundred to several thousand dollars a pair.

Many pairs.

Naturally, similar sites have sprung up identifying pastors with expensive excesses like Rolex watches, designer clothes, exotic cars, etc. My personal favourite is PastorPlanes which posts flight paths showing the “trips to ministry events and travel destinations” of private aircraft purchased with tax-free donations.

The sites come across as humorous or cynical but they are actually bold, serious commentary about the state of the success-driven western church.

When Jesus came to earth no one expected a Messiah born in a manger, much less one who would find a home among ‘unimportant’ people. It wasn’t predictable that he would teach on hillsides, talk with women, find comfort with the poor, or love his enemies.

Matthew 25 is an explanation of how God wants us to act toward everyone, especially the so-called ‘least’. Jesus makes two summations:

“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (v40)

“Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.” (v45)

Notice how the parable hits on the positive of doing and the negative of not doing – helping people in need is rewardable, ignoring them is punishable. Notice too, that the emphasis isn’t on large crowds of people but on the importance of “one”.

The parable tells us that our place in God’s kingdom is demonstrated by how humble, kind, and inclusive we are with each person crossing our path – even those who are inconvenient or unlikeable.

Isn’t it interesting that governments can talk about caring for vulnerable people even as they’re ignoring vulnerable people? We live in a world where mega-corporations and oligarch billionaires talk about their concern for social issues while accumulating obscene wealth for themselves.¹

Often christians (and their churches) function the same way. Perhaps it’s because they’re insecure but often they are motivated by visible success: size, money, influence. Their words say they speak for God, that they care for everyone, but their priorities say the opposite.

Spiritual leaders can see success as proof of God’s approval but usually they are lacking healthy doses of empathy, honesty, wisdom, humility.

The problem with ‘worship by number’ churches is their notoriety convinces them of their own importance and elevates their instinct to perpetuate themselves. Church scandals are way too frequent these days but when there are attempts to cover them it confirms the leaders think the institution is more important than the victims.

That is in stark contrast to Jesus who never thought of power as something to preserve. He didn’t see people as subsets or statistics or expendables. His ‘ministry strategy’ was merely to be present with each and every “one” he met.

Who are the “least of these” Jesus is speaking of in the parable? I think the list probably includes anyone who is inconvenient or distasteful. Anybody I don’t want to be seen with.

Humans can only know God when we are humble. Remember that.² In God’s inverted value system, humble is godly, weak is strong, the least are the greatest – yet our instincts for success are just the opposite.

Pastors and churches who are driven by the pride of accomplishment ultimately rule over empty kingdoms, unfit for a needy world. Humility unmasks the emptiness of success because it is honest and pure.³

Have you ever wondered why those famous faith healers don’t go to hospitals? I have. Wouldn’t a few hours of healing go a long way at a rehab centre or children’s wing? You’d think so.

But they don’t go. They won’t go where their hearts can’t follow. They haven’t learned how to feel, hurt, hope, or love outrageously alongside people in desperate need. They have already achieved an empty ‘success’ that disqualifies them from things that are deeper and more meaningful. Their egos have malformed their faith.

“Oh, that you would burst from the heavens and come down!” – Isaiah

The Story began on a barren trade route occupied by a foreign superpower. An unwed teenage girl brought God into the world as a Jewish baby. The baby was first visited by smelly, field-dwelling shepherds, then by pagan astrologers from the land of an old enemy.

Nothing in Jesus’ biography suggested worldly success: he wasn’t wealthy, didn’t hold office, didn’t travel, didn’t build an organization. His only success was the way he shared the presence of God with any person who was humble and needy.

So let’s be humble and needy.

We are now well into the season of Advent, our yearly reminder that the Creator entered Creation as a vulnerable, inconvenient baby. I like to think that if Jesus was walking the earth today he would be wearing a pair of comfy sneakers.

One pair.

Reasonably priced.

~       ~       ~

¹ A billion dollars is a lot of dollars. If you saved $5,000 dollars each day for the next 500 years, you still wouldn’t have your first billion.

² You can’t get much humbler than Rahab, the ‘traitorous’ prostitute who hangs in Jesus’ family tree.

³ As I was finishing this post I noticed that U.S. House Speaker Mike Johnson told an audience, “the Lord told me very clearly” that he would be another “Moses” to lead the country in “a Red Sea moment”.

a) I was taught at a young age that people who say ‘God told me’ are not to be trusted.

b) Fr James Martin wrote this response on X: “In spiritual direction, you always tell people who speak so glibly … that it must be tested out. Does it lead to humility or is it simply to support your own plans, agenda, and success? If it’s the latter, then it’s probably not coming from God.”

c) Anyway, it can’t be true because God told me he wanted me to be another Moses. I’ve already started growing a beard and I ordered a full-size staff from Amazon. So…

Image by Andreas Urdl from Pixabay

Not far from us there is a house where dank spider webs, rotting pumpkin heads and deflated vinyl creatures still haunt the yard. Tacky Christmas lightings will soon replace them but it is evident each year that Halloween is the main focus of their energy.

It seems Halloween is fun for everybody except those few christians who still find creepy ways to make it creepy. I noticed this year that some Bible Belt churches chose to replace Halloween with harvest festivals, which was how things used to be before they replaced the harvest festivals. Or how about the angry MAGA pastor who claimed Starbucks is a “witch’s coven”? (Note to self – use the drive through.)

Those fears remind me of the Puritan witch trials where gossip, superstition, vendettas and guilt generated fearful accusations along with strident religious reactions. Redemption and mercy were always a distant second.

The rhetorical question comes to mind: “Why were we taught to be afraid of witches and not the people who burned them alive?”

Fear is natural, fear is reflexive. It is healthy when it protects us but unhealthy when it steers us. Left on its own, fear doesn’t mature us, move us forward, or bring us peace.

I’m convinced that most of us are more fearful than we admit. We fear for our families or finances or health or pollution or society. We fear that conversation we need to have, or the lump we just found. The list is endless.

The scary thing about fear (…) is that it is a powerful motivator. Fear sells. We live in a culture where social media and news networks profit by highlighting the fearful. Politicians exaggerate fear of crime, taxes, immigrants, or whatever their opponents stand for. There is always a famine or natural disaster on our doorstep. Just yesterday our neighbour shared how worried he was about the wars and possible wars in the world.

Religion sells fear too. It’s a common (and lazy) strategy for preachers to preach negatives: fear God, fear satan, fear hell, fear sin, fear backsliding, fear science, fear woke, fear other religions, fear the world, fear being Left Behind, fear persecution.¹

I’m typically embarrassed/annoyed when I reflect on the list of empty fears christianity has handed us through its entire existence. Yes we have some reasons to be fearful but often christians respond to their fear with promises, claims, and emotions that are closer to superstition. Like the prophets of Baal, many think that passionate rituals and prayer formulas will convince God to fix their fears.

Yet our desperation reveals the deeper fears within us: fear of loss, fear of shame, fear of punishment, fear of failure, fear of the unknown, fear of being othered. Our faith tightrope sways over a chasm of fear but fear fades when we live in balance.

In scripture, fear has different expressions based on the context: it can mean fright or dread but it can also mean reverence or cautious realization. In other words, ‘the fear of God’ isn’t about anxiety but about internalizing who God is. That understanding would help us leave behind our superstitious religiosity and embrace the safety of a loving parent.

Do you know what the opposite of fear is? Love. When love is full we may not like the process but we trust the outcome to the One who loves us.

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”     – from 1 John

Jesus clearly warned people that following him would be difficult but he never used fear as a motivator. There is lots to be afraid of in our world but he offers a path that trusts in the final goodness of God’s love.

I remember praying about a situation in my life that was devastating. As a veteran christian I had checked all the boxes: my heart was clean, my prayers were sincere, my faith was strong, and I told God exactly what needed to happen.

Yet at some point I realized my prayers were nothing more than superstitious sacrifices offered on an altar of religiosity. I had been trying to appease a distant, demanding god instead of trusting a faithful, loving God. After that my prayers became more simple and trusting and I found myself increasingly calm, even grateful.

I don’t have any easy formulas for dealing with fear. I will say that I have been realizing my need to filter out the clamour and to live more fully in the good. I have edited out negative people on social media and severely restricted network news. It’s been years since I read a book or listened to a message from any well known religious leader. I’m still not good at it but these days I find more space to read, pray, smile, gaze,² and express thanks.

While writing this blog I re-discovered the Prayer of St. Teresa of Avila; its expressions are beautiful and meaningful in their simplicity. I invite you to join me in memorizing it and installing it into your prayerful moments.

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.

Amen.

~       ~      ~  

¹ Which reminds me – we are almost at the time of year when christians begin to share their fear of not being allowed to say ‘Merry Christmas’. When they say that, we have the choice to stare at them blankly, change the subject, or explain to them what confirmation bias is. 

² Gazing at an object (starry sky, crackling fire) that allows me time and space to think. Richard Rohr introduces the idea of ‘gazing’ here.  

Image by Elisa from Pixabay