Cliches Without Truth

I have witnessed a host of cliches today, this day of days after the election. We all live out so many cliches, and we all cling to a host of our favorites. For the sake of our identities, these come in handy. They divert criticism as easily as they confront it. They close arguments as quickly as they open them. And they serve as shorthand for what we believe, allowing us the free space in the more critical parts of our minds for weightier things like football, partisan politics, and what to make for dinner.

As a Christian surrounded by Christians for most of my life (including now), the cliches I encounter most tend to be Christian in nature. Which is why on this day of days, the day after Donald Trump has been elected, I have seen them in spades. And because of what has happened, because I have asked serious questions of my fellow Believers and received many of their cliches in response, I've been thinking about a couple in particular - how they've come to be, why we believe them, and what they can tell us about what is actually true.

The biggest cliche of them all is that of God's control. This is actually more an issue of poor theology than simple cliche, but cliche nonetheless it is. I summarize this with that favorite term of many Christians, "sovereignty." While I doubt that most of my friends and family actually think so, the cliche is that God Is In Control, meaning that either a) He has ordained the events in question exactly as they occurred, or b) He is literally controlling them in real time, a kind of cosmic puppet master. Again, I doubt that most Christians I know mean either of these things, but their conviction about God's direct involvement is real, it just so happens that they haven't thought it through. Because really and truly, Free Will is what makes the grace of the Gospel possible. So no, I don't believe that God Is In Control in the sense that His most desired outcome will be achieved. Why else did Jesus tell us to pray, "Your Kingdom come, your will be done," if His will is already being done anyway?

I think the primary reason that this cliche is so often trotted out is because we can't stand not knowing. When shit hits the fan, when what's happening doesn't make sense, when you can't find an answer to the question, "Why would God let this happen?", it's just easier to shrug and say, "God is in control (I guess)." Which is not to say that God is not in control in this sense - He knows the endgame. That's the reality and power and beauty of Jesus's victorious claim "It is finished." God's will has already been done because Jesus defeated death and took the sting out of sin. In light of this simple yet unfathomable truth, the outcome of the 2016 presidential election looks a long way off from God's "plan" and the cliche God Is In Control starts to sound like a pretty lame retort to, "How did we elect this man?"

Another note about God's sovereignty before I move on. One of the more sinister and hidden aspects of this cliche and the poor theology behind it is the self-centered nature of the claim. Take our current election as an example. It would be supremely selfish, narrow-minded, short-sighted, and insulting to the power of God to say "How could God let Trump get elected?" The presumption is that the American political system is of as much significance to God as it is to us. But the retort that God Is In Control is just as selfish, because it presumes the same thing. The biggest difference between the question and the cliche, though, is that the question is usually honest, while the cliche is simply thoughtless.

Which brings me to a cliche especially ripe for the plucking. This one is going to be as common, if not more so, than the first, and it is God Can Use Anyone. Whether the speaker claims that God Uses Broken Vessels, or that they are a Sinner Saved By Grace and therefore God Can Use Anyone To Accomplish His Will, it largely comes back to the same issues as the first cliche. When we have some stake in the person in question - and believe me, as citizens in the USA we all have a stake in Donald Trump - we are almost eager to trot out this cliche. And the Biblical poster child for God Can Use Anyone is none other than King David.

I think there's several reasons we love to abuse King David as our archetypal forgiven screwup. First of all, no one else in the Bible earns the lovely description of "a man after God's own heart." Frankly I suspect we all secretly want this to be said of us, which is what makes David's story so delicious. David was an arrogant, good-looking, and lucky man who came into all kinds of adventure, fortune, trouble, and sheer fun. He was courageous to the point of being suicidal, yet always came away unscathed. As every Christian will point out within five minutes of mentioning his name, David had the gall and disgusting judgment to impregnate a deployed soldier's wife and have him killed in battle to cover up the deed and its outcome. That God would forgive a man like this, much less praise and bless him, is simultaneously infuriating and elating. To realize what David got away with is to realize that anything is possible, even for an obnoxious low-life prick.

What forever frustrates me about this cliche though is the laser-like focus on this singular event in David's life. His deplorable behavior becomes a kind of twisted model for leadership in a way; if only you will repent, it doesn't matter if you'r an asshole! While this is exactly true in one sense - it is, after all, the essence of God's grace and redemption - it's also entirely false in another sense, namely reality. I seriously doubt that Bathsheba moved on from the experience of David's (probable) assault, the death of her husband, and ensuing life of embarrassment without any scars. So you see, while God did love David anyway, David was still an asshole who left behind some serious destruction. And I for one don't believe for a second that this was a part of God's "will."

But of course, Solomon was the product of this unfortunate copulation, which just goes to show us what redemption really is. The cliche that God Can Use Anyone seems to inherently assume that God won't use everyone. But of course He can, and I believe He probably does so more than we're aware, given our tendency to give so much attention to the celebrities in our stories. What if Solomon had not been a wise ruler of incredible wealth, but rather a simple, kind, and generous farmer who had a few friends and loved his family? Surely that story is still one of redemption, even if it isn't very noteworthy. And in any given place at any given time there are thousands of Solomons without the wealth, power, or wisdom to be famous and therefore become cliches themselves. Perhaps that is a big part of their blessing.

The problem with God Can Use Anyone is not that it is untrue. Few cliches are untrue, strictly speaking. The problem is the way we employ our cliches. To tell your angry, frustrated, confused, and saddened friends that it's okay that Donald Trump was elected because, you know, King David, is to be both tone deaf to the real cries of their hearts and to be shallow in your understanding of redemption. To say to people honestly grieving the shadow of dark things to come under the unpredictable regime of a man like Trump, "God is in control," is to betray not only your ignorance of God's sovereignty, but also your lack of empathy for real doubt and fear, if not your contempt simply for different opinions.

The simple problem with these cliches is this: they do not further a conversation about the real Heart of God. The Gospel is a beautiful message - it's The Good News - but it requires us to move beyond cliches and childlike understanding of scripture to a pure-hearted passion for love, victory, and redemption. David was a man after God's heart because that was what he was after, not because God needed a mascot for redemption. I hope for myself as much as I hope it for anyone that we will leave our cliches behind and ask and try to answer the hard questions when they come. And brothers and sisters, they are coming.

Politics and the Believer (2016 Brief Edition)

It is possible that there has never been a more ludicrous time in America to be a Christian voter. In a year that began with 16 or more candidates for the Republican nomination, the least qualified and most repugnant among them defied all odds and became the party nominee. Such is the insanity of this presidential election cycle that I can say with a straight and somber face that Donald Trump will be on the ballot in November for the highest office in the land. And if some of my fellow Believers have their way, he will win.

I had wanted to write this post with a title something like, "How Not to Vote Like a Christian." But as I thought about the idea of divorcing my Christian identity from my political choices, I couldn't continue with the lie. A Believer can't simply set that identity aside when casting a ballot. Just as surely as my Christianity is inseparable from my identity - in fact it is my identity - my political decisions are inseparable as well. So I won't be telling you to leave your Christianity behind when you step behind the curtain in November.

In fact if we do try to leave it behind what we might end up with is a bunch of Christians voting for Donald Trump.

Just as I won't tell you to try to vote like you don't believe in Jesus, I also am not going to say that Jesus gives a damn who you vote for. Like a lot of things in life for Christians, there is a temptation to say, believe, or think that Jesus is lurking over your shoulder with the right answer. Should you take that job offer? How about that house - is it the right one for your family? And which candidate should you vote for? In each instance it's tempting to think that you should turn around and ask and Jesus will have the right answer.

To be fair, he does have the right answer. But if you wait until the decision point every time something important happens to ask Jesus what he thinks, you're missing the point entirely. If your primary motivation for following Jesus Christ is to keep yourself from making poor choices, I encourage you to trade in your "faith" for a library of solid self-help books. You'll get more from the books without all the guilt you currently feel. However, if instead you would like to live a new life, the kind that Jesus frequently talked about and promised, then stop keeping him behind you until it's decision time and start making him a regular part of your daily existence.

Jesus just happens to be a regular part of my daily existence, and this fact has taught me several things. One thing I've learned is that I'm a terrible listener. Eager, but just bad at listening. The beauty of Jesus though is that he never tires of me and my poor attention. So I have learned that, when I'm ready to listen, he is already speaking. Also I've learned that Jesus is not a politician, nor does he think in political terms like we do. In fact you could be forgiven if you read the Gospels and came to the conclusion that Jesus is a bit of a radical.

This is why I don't think that Jesus gives a damn about our political choice - because he isn't relying on the personality in the presidency to provide him any security. For some reason we are, which is probably the most baffling part of any election, much less this one. Every four years the Christians in America go into paroxysms of fear and loathing over the Democratic presidential nominee, certain that this time around the Antichrist is lurking behind the curtain. Strange ways to act indeed for a group of people who are supposed to possess hope beyond hope, peace beyond peace, and assurance and security beyond reason.

For those who would hoist Donald Trump up on their shoulders, don't think your off the hook. Jesus may not care about your choice for president, but he still cares about you and those who cross your path. As soon as you cast your lot in with someone as hateful, disrespectful, offensive, and foolhardy as Trump, you can bet you've had your reward. To help a hateful man rise to power is to help his hatefulness rise as well. Just because God can use anyone in the world for the advancement of His Kingdom doesn't mean we're off the hook for making good decisions about who our leaders will be.

I'll leave you with a part of a scripture that comes to mind because of it's clarity, brevity, and applicability for those of us who love and trust God. "Oh the joys of those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or stand around with sinners, or join in with the mockers. But they delight in the law of the Lord, meditating on it day and night. (Psalm 1:1-2)"

The (No)Body of Christ

For the body does not consist of one member but of many...if the whole body were an eye, where would be the sense of hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is there are many parts but one body. (1 Corinthians 12)

I have observed that there is a tendency in groups toward conformity. This dynamic makes a lot of sense for a variety of reasons. For a like-minded collection of people it's simply more comfortable to be uniform. And in the industrial world uniformity is more efficient. As social creatures we are hardwired toward this efficiency. For the sake of the group and its common goals, we are willing to sacrifice our individuality lest it upset progress.

But the Church is just the opposite. The Body of Christ, that amalgamation of Believers in Jesus, is diverse because human beings are diverse. The Church thrives when it is diverse - when it is intentionally and consistently diverse. Which is why the analogy of the human body is so critical to understand. Of course a human body can't function if it's just a mouth, or just an ear. It's absurd. In the same way, it's absurd to think that the Christian Body can function without its members functioning uniquely and fully.

However, that tendency I have observed in groups applies almost without fail to the churches I have attended. Like any like-minded social collective, churches have an interest in efficiency. This is not stated of course, nor is it likely consciously pursued. But it happens. Churches are a fantastic place to witness the opposite development of what Paul admonishes the church in Corinth to pursue.

Most of the time the conformity is focused in the person and personality of the Pastor. Since most churches are formed around the charisma of a single individual, or of a limited group of leaders, that person or group will become the ideal for the church. Their spiritual direction will be the North Star for the congregants. In this way a dominant or charismatic church leadership will invariably work to mold every congregant into whatever body part that leader is. Typically that is a mouth.

I'm not trying to be funny. In churches where the pastor is a great speaker or where speech is valued - where being a mouth is important - the churchgoers will all work to become mouths, and their leaders will lead them there. Imagine being an ear in such a church; you would go nuts, until and unless you were willing to (pretend to) become a mouth. Or imagine being a foot in such a place. No one would have any use for you.

Take any body part and substitute it in the scenario, the outcome is the same. Whatever the church values, that will become the focal point. And we haven't even considered body parts that are broken or sick or severely impaired. An ear with a busted eardrum is a poor performer as an ear; imagine if he tries to be a mouth instead.

This is why Paul implored his friends in Corinth to pursue a diverse body. If everyone is always speaking, no one is listening. A body that is just an ear has no arms to proffer hugs, no shoulders to cry on. A church with a functioning body but no heart? Talk about a waste.

The call for diversity in the church is not a call for diversity in our sense. You can't get all the right ratios of blacks, hispanics, asians and whites in a room and call it "diverse." Without a focus on Jesus and what it means to be his Body, no multicultural group will be able to get there any better than if it were homogenous. Just like a life lived for Jesus is not one of outward appearances, so a Church longing to serve him is not a showcase for our feigned inclusiveness.

Which is not to say that our churches shouldn't be multicultural, multi-racial, multi-ethnic. Of course they should, if only for the simple fact that human beings are all of those things. The Church is multi-everything, full of doubters and believers, the powerful and weak, black and white and every shade between, the rich and poor, gay and straight, failing and winning, ready and unready. And every little local body of believers should reflect the diversity of ability and personality that God has created. It should be a Noah's Ark of human spirituality, a place where the lion lies with the lamb and the introvert and the extrovert can still be friends - and where they can encourage and improve one another through the power of Jesus's presence.

Don't settle for uniformity in the church. Don't dismiss Paul's call to diversity as a good idea whose day might come. Don't conform when it's easy, but embrace the awkward for the sake of the better thing that God can do through you and for you.

The Greatest Commandment

I have a hard time with love. I'm not talking about what we might think love is. I'm not saying that I have a hard time with marriage, or with my kids. I'm not saying that I don't have friends, or that those friends can't tell whether I care about them. I don't have difficulty loving people, because truly I do. But in the same breath I can honestly say that I'm not really sure how to love.

I have a hard time with loving the way that Jesus said to love. My guess is I'm not unique in this. In fact, I'm fairly certain that this is an inherent human experience. We are selfish, we are self-centered. This doesn't mean that we really love ourselves, it just means that we are focused on ourselves. When you're focused on yourself, you have not focus left for God. When you don't have time for God, you don't have time for anyone else.

When Jesus was asked by a skeptic to name the greatest commandment, he gave two answers. "The Greatest Commandment," he said, "is to love God with all that you feel, all that you think, and all that you physically are." This was his first answer, and to the skeptical lawyers and religious leaders who were drilling him, this was probably acceptable. However, he immediately added a second commandment:

"'Love others as well as you love yourself.' These two commandments are pegs; everything in God's Laws and the Prophets hang on them." (The Message)

The first and greatest commandment is taken from one of the central religious texts of Israel, specifically from Deuteronomy 6:5. There is no doubt that the Pharisee who asked this questions agreed with the answer to an extent, but possibly not in principle. He may have had a different opinion in fact, such as circumcision or sacrifice. Maybe he agreed but wouldn't admit it for fear of his peers. Maybe he would have thought any answer Jesus gave was wrong. Whatever he thought, he probably wasn't expecting the second commandment.

This is, to me, the Good News of Jesus and the Kingdom Among Us in a nutshell: love God with all that you are and love everyone else, too. And I love it. I love how stripped down and simple it is. I love that this command draws us to God, but also draws us to each other. I love that it also points us to ourselves and reminds us that we are worth loving and that we should love ourselves. If you have ever needed an explanation of who God is, everything you need is contained in this (these) Greatest Commandment(s).

Just as much as I love this command, I shrink from it. Like most everything that I do in my life, I don't understand why I shrink from it, but I do. I think that I shrink because I don't want to screw up. For example, I don't believe that I really do love God with all that I am. There are times when I don't love Him with much of what I am at all. More than that, the times when I don't love people around me seem to outnumber the times when I ignore God. I'm much more inclined to forget my neighbor than God, especially if I'm scared that God will get mad at me for forgetting him.

And therein lies the power, beauty and heart-rending truth of Jesus's Greatest Commandment. It's not enough to love God with everything I have and forget my neighbor. They are mutual expressions. I cannot love God without loving my neighbor. These two expressions are the foundation of faith, of life with God. You can't be a people-hater and please God. You can't be a people-lover if you hate yourself. Following this equation through mathematically we find that:

Loving God < Loving God + Loving Others ONLY IF Loving Others = Loving Yourself

It's not that loving God isn't primary, because it is. Jesus said so. What Jesus is expressing, what he is establishing as truth, what he is forcing the Religious to accept since they ignore it, is that we can't love God unless we love others AND ourselves. How could we be capable of showing God love if we don't show love to those whom He created?

This is why I have a hard time with love, because through Jesus Christ I know that love requires me to give everything I am over to it. With all my mind, heart and physicality I am called to care for anyone and everyone, including God. To put it simply, this is impossible.

Except that, with God, nothing is impossible. At least nothing that He calls us to.

God has called us to this love. Through the life and voice of Jesus His son he shows and tells that this is the way to love and the way to live. It is His Way, and it is supremely important. And it is doable because He makes us able. When you give over your heart, mind and body to loving this way, God fills in the gaps. He gives the emotional support and empathy. He provides the vision and peaceful thinking. He gives words and intelligence, urges us to give a hug when it's needed, to hold back when it's not. To pat shoulders and say "attaboy" at the perfect time. If God is love, then turning to Him is the best way to learn how to do it. Which is why turning to Him is the Greatest Commandment.

The truth is not that I have a hard time with love, but that I have a hard time with selflessness. And selfless is possibly the most important thing to be. That's what Jesus did. That's what he said. The most selfless man who lived, who said of his murderers, "Forgive them." In selflessness love resides. And God is always love.

The Welcome

These days I find myself deeply moved by the music of Mumford and Sons, the Avett Brothers, and other folk-rock bands who seem to be dealing a lot in truth-telling. Case in point is this phrase from Mumford and Sons song "Roll Away Your Stone" off of their "Sigh No More" album.

It's not the long walk home that will change this heart, but the welcome I receive with every start.

 Every time this song comes on when I'm in my car, I find myself moved almost to tears by the goodness of God. His grace - that is what has drawn me to love Him.

Obviously this phrase from the song is a reference to the Prodigal Son story, which is a parable that seems a limitless trove of valuable truths. If you know the story then you know that the so-called "prodigal son" demanded his inheritance of his father, left his father's home and proceeded to waste everything on booze, sex, drugs, travel, and general lasciviousness. By the time he was done partying he was working with pigs and envying them their meals. This low point prompted him to decide to return home in the hopes that he could go to work for his father and at least have a decent life as a servant.

The beautiful moment of the story is when the son returns home. He doesn't get to act out the beggar's plea he's been practicing because, on his way up the road to his father's house, his father sees him and comes running down the lane and embraces him. This part is too good not to quote.

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son." But the father said to his servants, "Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found." And they began to celebrate.

This is the heart of God that move men like me to love God. You see, the long road home goes a ways to change us for sure. Don't you know that it was a pretty shitty experience for this young man when he had spent all that he had in foreign lands, only to be broke when famine came there, forcing him to take about the worst work he could imagine. I'll bet he learned a lot from that experience about humility and gratefulness. He must have because it was enough to drive him back to his father's house, which had to be humiliating and embarassing. I can just imagine how much he beat himself up while traveling back home; and how much he was learning about perseverance and patience as he dealt with the difficulty of travelling without money and with little hope. I have no doubt that this reckless son came back to his father's house much wiser, more humble, and ready to be the best that he could be at whatever there was left for him to do.

But here is what he did not learn on that long walk home. He learned nothing about grace. The lesson of grace is not something we teach ourselves, not something that we earn, and this son didn't learn about grace until he looked up in surprise and saw his father running down the road to meet him. He learned about grace when his father refused to hear his plea for work and instead called for the best robe and the ring and good shoes to be put on his son. He learned about grace when the fatted calf was slaughtered in his honor and the whole household proceeded to celebrate his return.

In short it was the welcome he received with his new start that changed his heart. Can you imagine ever turning back from that kind of grace and love? To what would you turn and where would you go? This is how God captures our hearts and changes our lives. His grace and love are amazing, and when we encounter that we can't help but to have our hearts changed.

 

Judge Not

Then Jesus cried out and said, "He who believes in me, believes not in me but in Him who sent me. And he who sees me sees Him who sent me. I have come as a light into the world, that whoever believes in Me should not abide in darkness. And if anyone hears my words and does not believe, I do not judge him; for I did not come to judge the world but to save the world. He who rejects me, and does not receive my words, has that which judges him - the word that I have spoken will judge him in his last day." - John 12:44-48

You may not know this, but Jesus did not come to judge the world. He didn't come to judge you, he didn't come to judge me. And I'm going to say it: he didn't come to judge your gay coworker, your Muslim classmate, the liberal atheist who's good friends with your sister-in-law. He didn't come to judge any of them. The fact is he doesn't care about those things that you identify with yourself or with those people.

Here is what Jesus came to do, what he said he came to do. He came to save the world. That's it. He came into the world in the same way that light comes into a dark room. Light doesn't enter a room and immediately cast judgment on the objects sitting there. The tendrils of sunlight don't point fingers at the dusty fan. They don't avoid the dingy rug covered in the carcasses of insects. Light doesn't judge darkness, it simply disintegrates it. In the presence of light, darkness disappears, flees.

Jesus does not compare himself to a righteous crusader come to make the world obey. Isn't that interesting? This was a huge disappointment to many who wanted to believe in Jesus. So many Jews of his day were expecting a Messiah that would come in and rearrange the social and political order so that the seed of Abraham would rule. Many who might have believed in Jesus simply couldn't do it because he hadn't come to judge, to rule. In fact in this chapter of the book of John, the author discusses how the religeous leaders of Jesus's day did not - simply could not - believe in him. Their hearts were hard against his word, against his love, against his salvation. When your heart is set on seeing judgment dished out there's nothing more disappointing then seeing salvation instead.

This is the sad fact of the American Christian experience, particularly inside the walls of any given church. You see, judgment is deep down in our skin. It sits comfortably within our flesh just waiting to be flung on the nearest person. Isn't THAT interesting? There is something about judgment that we just love, and it is this: judgment is a way to assert our righteousness. Not His righteousness, not the righteousness of Jesus, but ours. Judgment raises us up. Our flesh, that part of us that is entirely physical and self-centered and self-serving, simply gets its jollies off of judgment.

This is a touchy subject in the Church. Churchgoing folk are reticent to concede any ground on this point. We are perfectly willing to pay lip service to love, mostly because we know Jesus talked so much about it, but in the end we cling white-knuckled to a bit of judgment. Because surely that is what God wants, right? I mean after all, He is just. He is holy. He is pure and perfect, and that's what we're called to - perfection. Surely we can and should judge because how else will the world know the holiness of God?

Maybe the fact is that the world won't know the holiness of God. The truth is that the world as a whole will never really know the holiness and righteous nature of God, especially through you and me. We are not instruments of holiness. We are not messages of righteousness to the world. We are not harbingers of the perfect nature of the Creator. We are terrible at that kind of thing. That's why Jesus came to save us.

Here is what we're good at as it relates to the Kingdom of God. We are excellent examples of grace. We are wonderful bearers of the beauty of love. We are perfect witnesses to the salvation of Jesus Christ.

If Jesus himself was not called into the world to judge it, then who in the hell do we think we are to judge it? What makes us think we're more qualified then the perfect son of God who said, "What the father told me, I tell you." Jesus only said what the Father said, and only did what the Father did. And he didn't come to judge, but to save.

Don't lament that this is not your role. I can almost hear the gnashing of teeth at the idea that we are not called to judge. Some of us are so used to judging, so deeply used to it - and frankly so damn good at it - that we can't imagine that we're not called to it. But tell me, what is your judgment doing for the Kingdom of God? How many unsaved ones are coming to your door looking for your judgment? How often have you found that your righteousness is up to the job of bringing sinners into salvation?

Before you consider the answers, let me spoil it for you: zero. No one is coming to Jesus Christ by way of your judgment. Your bible-bashing on Facebook isn't bringing souls to salvation. Your vehement defense of heterosexual marriage has yet to prop up an edge of the Kingdom. The assertion of your rights as an American have not and will not ever set a lost soul free.

Here is what scripture says: it's the kindness of God that brings us to repentance. Isn't that something? So often we slip into the delusion that his anger will bring us to repentance. Or surely his wagging finger of judgment will do it. Perhaps a self-righteous street corner preacher will bring the lost sheep in. Yes! The prodigal children are all waiting for the right combination of righteous anger and impatient moral zeal! Surely if we get steamed up enough they'll coming flooding into the aisles of the local churches (the Protestant ones of course).

Forgive me my sarcasm and hear this: love is what does it. The good news of Jesus was, is and always will be this: God has come to mankind to save us. Judgment was always a promise for those who didn't measure up, but Jesus is the good news that saves us from that. Sin is dealt with. Death has no more sting. Satan fell like lightning to his rightful place in a terrible pit. So what else is left but love, sweet love, love that saves.

Friend of Sinners

The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look at him! A glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is justified by her deeds. (Matthew 11:19, ESV)

I think it's easy for us to forget that Jesus was a radical. For so long now we have had the image of Jesus as the kindly shepherd with little lambs in tow. As the gentle bearded white man with golden curling locks of hair who takes the children in his lap and teaches them Sunday School lessons. As the humble outsider gently knocking on the door in the hopes that we will answer and let him into our lives. These images are so pervasive, so accepted and so subtly soothing that the concept of a Jesus who is a populist radical overthrowing the dogma of orthodoxy is unsettling and unbelievable.

It's easy for us to forget just who Jesus was and what he did. Here was a man with the wrong background for life as a spiritual leader. Not only did he come from a region held in disdain by many in the area, but it was probably known by many that his mother had been pregnant before she was married - no doubt a deeply shameful thing for a Jewish family in that day and in that region. So he began his ministry as a kind of outcast, at least in the sense that he was not an especially honored or sought after teacher.

But as he went along the people followed him. Twelve men in particular dropped everything - work, family, their daily livelihoods - and became is acolytes, his disciples. And you can be sure that these men were not the very best that Palestine had to offer. Two of them stand out as particularly poor choices for a rabbi to select. First there is Matthew, who was a tax collector, a position that was generally despised because of the graft and thievery of these officials. In several verses of the Bible the phrase "tax collectors and sinners" indicates in what low esteem Matthew and his ilk were held. The second poor choice was the man who betrayed Jesus, greedy Judas Iscariot the betrayer. Here was a man that Jesus knew would betray him, and yet Jesus invited him to become a disciple anyway.

It's easy for us to forget that Jesus was a friend of sinners. And not just sinners, but truly despised and disdained people. And not just a friend either, but a loving and dedicated friend. The kind of friend who would come over and eat at your table. An intimate friend not concerned with protecting his reputation. The kind of friend who would weep over your losses, bless your family, speak truth into your life even if it hurt your feelings. Jesus was radical not because he called the sinners out in the public square, not because he drew attention to his own righteousness by comparing it their lack, not because he worked tirelessly to turn the tide of culture toward the moral rules of the kingdom of God. No, Jesus was radical because he was a friend of sinners. He was radical because he was a powerful spiritual leader who had little room for religious orthodoxy because he had ample room for love. He was radical because he cared less about his reputation than he did about the broken men and women around him, and he cared less about their reputations than even they did.

How radical his love was. How radical it still is. And yet we don't seem to have a stomach for it. We have twisted the love of Jesus Christ into a kind of invisible assumption of motivation for our moralizing judgments of our neighbors. We've made hatefulness out to be a necessity of righteousness. We have elevated the throwing of stones to a place well above the offering of a cup of water. How radical is the love of Jesus especially when you compare it to our narrow, scared, feeble and fragile attempts to show that we care about anyone who does not precisely measure up to our idea of worthiness. How radical is the love of Jesus and how miserably unappealing is our love.

It's easy for us to forget what love looks like. It's easy to forget that the pinnacle of love was and is Jesus. We often forget that Jesus loves us not because we're especially lovable, but because his way of loving is so radical that it doesn't depend on our loveliness. "While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." He didn't wait for us to clean up our act before he gave everything up for us, so why are we waiting for our neighbors to clean themselves up before we give our love to them? This is what love looks like, surely - to give something up for the sake of our neighbor no matter whether they measure up to our sense of righteousness and morality. We believers should be called friends of sinners, and we should proudly nod in agreement when it's said of us. We should be so fortunate that it would be said of us, just as it was said of Jesus.