Prophetic Imagination in a Crumbling World

Some of you will know that, for the past month or so, I’ve been travelling around the United States to meet up with various friends and generally see a little more of the world at large. I was urged by many of my friends to keep a travel blog as I went along, which, alas, I haven’t really done. This has been a combined result of not having a great deal of opportunity to do so, and also the accumulation of some quite personal experiences which I wouldn’t feel comfortable publicly blogging on at least for the time being. Suffice it to say, however, I have had some encouraging experiences while here, and met some thoroughly inspiring and interesting people, whether old friends or new friends alike. With many ups and downs, this journey has proved to be something of a personal pilgrimage.

One thing that has struck me in my short time here are the differences which exist between British and American culture. They are often too subtle to even beggar some kind of articulate analysis, but one which has particularly stood out for me is the almost absolute necessity for an average American citizen to own a car. I have commented to many of my friends here that, were I back in the UK, I would be quite used to being able to hop onto a bus or train to most places and actually lead quite an affordable existence doing so (with some shrewdness, of course). In the States, many towns and even big cities are that sprawled that travelling as a pedestrian is difficult at very best and downright unfeasible at very worst. While these fine people have a good enough interstate bus and train system to boast of, the localised public transport leaves a fair bit to be desired.

If you’re wondering why I’m opening up on a blog article about this, it’s because a few things during my stay here have led me to think upon how much I take my own life for granted back in the UK. Being (hopefully) socially-conscious, there isn’t a great deal of difficulty for me back home to lead a moderately “alternative” lifestyle, whether by shopping from a local cooperative supermarket, supporting small businesses, or by getting along just fine without having to own a fuel-guzzling vehicle of my own. It would be significantly more challenging (perhaps not impossible, but certainly more challenging) to lead a similar life here in the States. It could be that I would have to settle down into everyday life here to know all the ins and outs of ethical practicalities, as I am aware that many American communities and groups do great work in minimising their dependencies upon the systems of the world, but for now I am aware of how much I have perhaps been taking for granted in my own small area of the Globe.

Additionally, seeing more of our Trans-Atlantic Western society has made me see even more just how collectively gripped within and enraptured by the Empire we really are. I use the word “Empire” here in the same kind of sense that many Biblical scholars and preachers have before me, not to describe any one particular superpower as we would understand it, but rather the cumulative systems of wealth and political power we human beings have set up for ourselves which deliver the vast majority of resources and the means of production into the control of the privileged few. In a conventional scholarly sense, it is used to refer not only to the ruling powers of the day, but also the economic system of production over which they reign. In our times, we would know this system as Capitalism.

A recent conversation with some friends of mine highlight an interesting ambivalence regarding our Capitalist society, in that it seems rather strange for anyone to criticise it. After all, as some (myself included) have noted, our economy offers quite an extraordinary amount of freedom and security, as well as opening us up to a seemingly better quality of life; whether this includes the ability to traverse the world, the opportunity to dine on diverse and delicious foods accorded by the global market, the availability of fine fashions and clothing, etc etc ad nauseum. It becomes rather difficult to find fault with a system that seemingly provides many high quality services and gives its citizens a good standard of living.

So the common question arises, then, “What is so bad about Capitalism?” I hasten to note that I am not a very big believer in someone describing or defining themselves by the thing that they are against. Terms such as “anti-capitalist” leave something of a bittersweet taste in my mouth since they are an automatically negative connotation, necessarily having to be qualified by something else if they are to be taken with any kind of seriousness or credibility. Nonetheless, if we are taking on a system of ethics which purports to be against something, then we had better explain why. Capitalism, as noted, accords us an excellent range of opportunities… but at what kind of cost? We might enjoy a wide, diverse, globalised market, but one which is essentially driven by the commodity of oil. The recent explosion in fuel prices has indicated not just an increased consumer demand, but in the eyes of many also highlights the danger of a high-polluting, non-renewable, and unsustainable energy source upon which to found our modern technological society. We may have the luxury to travel to our hearts’ content and to reap the benefits of a globalised market, but at what kind of cost to our limited resources and the environment?

Of course, that is only one problem, but I am reminded of many others. Being involved in campaigns work, I strive to become more aware of my consumer choices and to make the link between my purchases and the end producer. When one does this, they increasingly learn of an every-growing list of corporations which appear to have escaped any kind of moral accountability. Just a few examples of this include:

Coca-Cola, with their tendencies to deplete water from developing nations and leave their existing water supplies poisoned and polluted.

Wal-Mart’s lack of accountability involving ethical standards, particularly in their hesitance to reveal the identities of their overseas contractors when questioned about allegations of sweatshop labour (A matter regarding which the major UK clothing outlet Primark is also guilty).

Beyond these specific examples, the more general tragedies of negligence and corruption at the corporate level can include (but are not necessarily limited to):

Intensive factory farming - under which masses of animals are kept under horrifying conditions, at the expense of increased levels of warming gases and the further depletion of agricultural resources.

The supply of foods from developing nations leaving many farming communities in a locked-cycle of poverty due to not being paid a sustainable living wage.

It’s not often popular to talk about these issues. Particularly when one is accepting a friend’s hospitality, they don’t always want to hear about how their purchase of Coca-Cola or a certain brand of coffee beans or a particular clothing line is indirectly causing the suffering of individuals and communities on the other side of the world. On the flipside, aren’t these issues about which we as Christians should fundamentally be concerned? After all, if there is one thing upon which Jesus will hold us to account on the last day, it will be how we responded to our neighbour.

The main difficulty lies in that not many of us will always make the connection between our seemingly idle place within the economy to the consequences which lie elsewhere, unseen by our own eyes. Being more aware of such issues requires us to push our vision beyond the scope of our individual lives, allowing it to transcend into a place that acknowledges our role within the interconnected nature of all things, wherein we are no further from the Guatemalan coffee farmer or the Chinese clothing worker than we are from the homeless man down the street from us. I truly believe that if we would open ourselves up, God will give us the heart to effect this vision as part of the personal transformation He accords us in Christ Jesus.

Another problem lies in the images of legalism which might get conjured up by topics such as this. We Christians emphasise a salvation which comes as the gift of grace, justified by faith in Christ alone and not by anything we could have done ourselves. What use is this grace, one might ask, if we are going to spend our energies boycotting certain goods and concentrating on buying Fair Trade?

I would direct any arguments back to the narrative in Matthew 25, in all honesty. We should be careful not to live by guilt or shame, or to become unhealthily obsessive about our place in the world, but that should not in any way negate our responsibilities to strive for the same kind of transformation on this earth that God has begun as a work in our own hearts. If this were not the case, what good would it be to pray. “Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven?” If Heaven knows no suffering, no death, no pain, then let us follow our calling to effect that prayerful vision for those around us.

Our efforts to understand our place as global citizens should not end with simple ethical consumer decisions, however, as these limited choices are only the beginning of a much larger calling. The increasing list of examples involving corporate irresponsibility and ethical unaccountability are themselves symptomatic of the larger problem, in that the Empire will ground itself upon a production-consumption system which takes the means of production from the masses and places it into the hands of the wealthy few (Walter Brueggemann has done some brilliant work in explicating the Biblical narrative in this regard and placing it within the context of our own time). In doing so, this oil-driven technological economy we inhabit is proving itself to be dangerously unsustainable, leaving a bloody trail of environmental destruction, ecological extinction, mass poverty, warfare, and death its wake. The Empire founds itself upon the human spiral of violence.

Of course, this is all bearing in mind what I said earlier on, in that it is often futile to define ourselves solely by the thing we are opposing. If the Christian has a place forming a critique of our Capitalist society, then, what is it we are to do as an alternative?

I am reminded of the creation narrative in Genesis when I consider the problem of our technological society. I no longer look at this portion of scripture and see some worn-out debate between Evolutionism and Creationism, but rather an illustration of how God desired His relationship with humankind to be; That is, both male and female made in the Image of God and thereby accorded common dignity and standing in all of creation, made as responsible stewards of all the earth, living at peace with each other, with God, and with the animals/creation, without any need for coercion, heirarchy, or violence to exist between them. Those human characteristics are outlined by this story as having arisen from Adam and Eve’s/humanity’s decision to disobey God and turn inwardly to themselves and their own desires, a condition we call “sin.” Thus, the peace that could potentially exist between God, man, and earth is tragically inhibited by our own selfish desires which set us at odds with one another and alienate us from our neighbour, giving rise to the proceeding Biblical narratives from thereon regarding the human construction of cities, kingdoms, and empires, together with all of the tragedies they entail.

I think it is significant that, prior to the Fall, Adam ad Eve share a vegetarian diet together with the animals of the earth, and there is no need for any living creature possessing “the breath of life” to kill any other for food. Instead, they all enjoy the produce of the earth which God freely gives, negating any need for either a) violence, or b) land ownership. Capitalism is based upon the entire prospect of certain groups of people taking a controlling interest in the earth’s resources, whereas the Biblical vision is more one of the community receiving the gifts of God through the earth. After the Fall, it is then that humanity is seen to be exacting violence upon the earth, whether through hard agriculture or through the killing of animals for food and clothing. From this, as well as from other ways in which God attempted to guide His people, such as through the Jubilee, a contrast can be discerned between the human narrative of Capitalism and the Biblical narrative of a sustainable economy whereby community is the focus rather than the individual. The original vision was set in place as a means to ensure that all peoples’ needs were accounted for, by emphasising God’s supreme ownership of the earth’s fullness, together with our responsibility as stewards of that which God has given us. In this sense, the system of private ownership emphasised in our modern economic society makes little sense, as we Christians look to God as the landowner, with our own role as moreso renting out and acting in loving responsibility of all that we have been apportioned.

At this point, one might say, “This is all very well, but how on earth is that practical for the here and now? Whether the Bible does or does not describe an alternative way of living, that doesn’t change that we are all part of the Capitalist system, and it doesn’t look as though things will change anytime soon.”

A very valid point, were one to bring it up, and this is where I personally feel the community is paramount in addressing this problem. After all, I am sure the early Christians would have felt the same way and would have asked similar questions when they were living in Rome’s economy. “How can we set ourselves apart from Caesar?”, “How can we live without the Empire’s market?”, “We need the Empire to be able to eat, drink, and trade!” and so on.

What this illustrates is the problem of striving for absolute purity, when really what we are called to do is understand our place within the system and to continue asking those questions about what we do as both individuals and as a Christian community called to be set apart from the ways of the world. We may not be able to live without the control of the production-consumption system, but we should never turn that fact into an excuse to resign ourselves over to complacency and futility. God endowed us with a prophetic imagination to be able to work as agents of transformation for the world around us, to effect His salvation on every level from the spiritual to the material. It is with this imagination that we have the power (God’s power) to indeed live as a people set apart from the world’s systems, if not in an absolute sense then in a sense which demonstrates to people that another way is possible, and that we don’t always have to give up on ever trying to carve out new visions and fresh ways of approaching our lives.

What could this mean? It could mean that we’ll keep buying tea and coffee, but we’ll buy it Fair Trade certified. It could mean that we’ll still buy clothes, but we’ll get them second-hand from thrift stores and charity shops, or maybe even make them ourselves. It could mean that we’ll keep buying from corporations, but we’ll also be growing our own fruit and vegetables. It could mean that we’ll continue relying on the Empire’s market economy, but we’ll also live in simplicity, consume as few resources as possible, and recycle as much of our waste as we can. It could mean that we’ll still be driving, but we’ll also be carpooling wherever possible and maybe even converting our vehicles to run on used vegetable oil. It could mean that we’ll still be buying property, but we’ll also gather together in community with one another and discuss new and interesting ways in which we can exercise that creativity which will radiate God’s love to the world around us.

It could also be that, as communities of people who gather together, we will move from the limited things we do to lead sustainable lives (ethical consumer choices, switching appliances off when not used, switching to renewable energy, recycling, gardening, simple living, etc) and onto those larger ways in which we will question, challenge, and change the system of which we are all part. And as more and more people come together to do this, we could come even closer to receiving God’s Kingdom in fullness, not just in a way that saves people from the devil, but causes them to become born again in the fullest possible sense - to escape from spiritual, human, economic, and social oppression on every single level.

Our Western civilisation might be crumbling and decaying around us… but the Church will be the light that guides the way. So what are you waiting for? Go out and express some of the divine creativity and prophetic imagination in your own life today!

An Open Letter to my Readers (Whomever you may be)

Ah, yes, so here we are again. I would imagine there may be five or so people who read this blog on any kind of regular basis and with any form of remote enthusiasm, but even so, I realise it has been a while. I profusely apologise.

This is not so much a blog entry per se, but rather an “in-betweener” of a few things I would like to address. The first is, as might be an obvious point, the long absence of any kind of regular work from me here. One of the primary reasons for this stems from undergoing a period of realising just how little I know and how much more I wish to learn and articulate. This does not mean that I am feeling any less fervent in the convictions I espouse, but I wish for a season to be a little more of a listener and a little less of a talker. So that’s the first point.

A couple of other points I need to address, are those raised by a recent commentator on my blog who brought up some interesting critiques. Now, I did think about just leaving a comment in return, but since these were very valid concerns and ones which might possibly have been concurred by others who visit here, I felt best to address them somewhat more openly.

Anyway, the commentator in question, a Mr (Ms?) “N. Inquisitor” challenged me in the following ways (And by the way, if you’re reading this, I wish to thank you both for reading and for commenting): It was said that my posts come across as quite complicated when Jesus’ teachings were themselves very straightforward, that they appear to be lacking in love, and that they are perhaps overtly political.

All great points, I’m quite grateful they were raised. This is going to make me think a little more about how best to present my thoughts in the future, but for now I wanted to provide a bit of a defense.

The apparent “complexity” of anything I post is acknowledged, but I’m not necessarily certain that anything I’m putting forward is anything particularly mindbending or hard to understand. I have had certain friends comment on my “intelligence” upon their reading of my work (And I am very flattered by this!), but I’m not convinced that aptitude has much to do with it. I consider myself to be a faithful (and failing) Christian, constantly seeking new growth in my relationship with God in Christ, and striving not only to articulate my convictions but also to search out the ways in which I know I must myself change and repent. I do agree that Jesus’ teachings are (or at least ought to be, for us) very simple and straightforward. What I find unfortunate is that we in the church don’t always find this simplicity to be very practical, and so we invent new ways in which to contort and stretch out scripture in a way that makes us feel more confortable. It is exactly this type of thinking which I oppose, and for this reason I almost feel like I must make out arguments which end up detailed, in an effort to allow us a return to the radical simplicity which leaps at us from the Gospel. I do not consider this to be any kind of skill or intelligence, lest I be arrogant enough to assume that I am capable of holding onto truths which others are not. If ever that were to be the case, I would hope to know instantly that it were not a truth from God, who has hidden the things of Heaven from the wise and revealed them unto children.

The next point… that my posts lack in love. This too concerns me, that I might often fail to convey that Godly love which is absolutely central and paramount to the Christian faith. While I understand how this might happen, and while I promise to watch how I express myself in this regard for future posts, I would say that everything written here… is most definitely done in love. My vision is for Christians to reach a realisation of love in the fullest possible sense of the word. This also ties into the whole point of “simplicity” that you raised, my fellow Inquisitor, when you spoke of how Jesus’ teachings were often straightforward. Well, I would be ecstatic if more of us within the church were to view, say, the Sermon on the Mount with precisely this mindset. To me, there is little more that is plain as the commandment for us to love our enemies, and yet many of us in the church have tragically dismissed the simple nature of this piece of scripture and approached it instead with the attitude of “Jesus couldn’t possibly have meant what this appears to say, He must have meant something different.” And we have fallen into the trap of believing that we can still love a person while having them sentenced to death, that we can still love someone with the love of God and shoot at them in the battlefield. If my posts appear to lack love, then I must apologise for that, but my wish is for my readers to journey with me in understanding what the love of Christ really means and how we effect that in the here and now.

Which somewhat conveniently ties in with your final point… that my posts are overly political. Politics is ultimately reduced to the ways in which human beings interact with one another and with the world around them. In this sense, there isn’t much in the world quite as political as this: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your strength, and all your mind. And you shall love your neighbour as yourself.” Jesus did speak of saving souls and bringing healing to those who suffer, absolutely. I identify as an Evangelical Christian and would never wish to remove the vital spiritual component of the Gospels. However, if I get political, it is because I see salvation as a very present event which brings transformation to people in the here and now. I also see healing not just as something miraculous (which it is), but also as something we effect by being agents of the Holy Spirit. I wish to love my neighbour as myself. If my negligence in caring for the environment is inadvertently contributing to a detrimental livelihood for the poorer sectors of society and consuming valuable resources from the earth (thus negating my very spiritual role as a responsible steward of God’s creation), then that is a political matter about which I must necessarily be concerned as a follower of Christ. If I habitually buy from a clothing company which produces its goods off the backs of families in developing nations who are paid well under a sustainable living wage, then that is a political matter about which I must necessarily be concerned as a follower of Christ. If I see my fellow spiritual brethren coopted into nationalistic service of a military which thrives on upholding order by lawfully killing others, then that is a political matter about which I must necessarily be concerned as a follower of Christ. If I am called to love my enemies, and to love my neighbour as myself, then those are political matters which I feel require the attention of any person professing to be a Christian. When all is said and done… love itself is political. Not party political, though, I must add.

I hope this provides some insight into why I often post the way I do. With all of that said, I am going to see if I can keep these critiques in mind when I post from now on, in the hopes that there will be a little more of that fiery Christ-centred love present in my work. Who knows, I may even try to be a little less academically-minded!

An actual, “proper” post coming soon. Watch this space (Or Bloglines… or Facebook… etc).

Prayer - Part II

The impetus for this second in our perhaps ongoing series on prayer comes from a recent discussion I had with some friends on the beliefs of John Shelby Spong, the former Episcopalian Bishop of Newark. As some of you may know, Spong is a somewhat controversial figure for being ultra-liberal to the point of divesting Biblical Christianity of most of its supernatural themes, and this stripping it down into something that only vaguely resembles Christianity at all. In his “12 Theses of a New Reformation,” Spong cites this as his 10th:

“Prayer cannot be a request made to a theistic deity to act in human history in a particular way.”

I cannot help but be somewhat perplexed by the idea that anyone laying claim to the Christian faith could not bring themselves to believe in the power of prayer. Now, this is not to say that I am unable to understand such inclinations. Part of the reason I was inspired to write this series (however sporadic and infrequent it might be) is because I understand the human frustration with the transcendental all too well, and prayer is no exception in these frustrations. How often have we felt that our prayers go unanswered? How often have we felt completely helpless in a situation and believed in our hearts that, as much as we prayed, nothing we did could even fractionally remedy the problems we sought to resolve? Indeed, even when we have brought our burdens and concerns before God, how often have we felt completely and utterly resigned to the sheer mystery of what prayer is? As a good friend of mine often says to me, “I’ll be praying… I’m just not sure what it does.” My own guess is that we feel this way about prayer a large majority of the time, no matter how weak or strong our faith might be. I consider that to be, simultaneously, something of a comfort and a concern.

The point is, many of us might be tempted to renounce the belief we have in prayer altogether. After all, if we don’t see it “do” anything, if it doesn’t seem to help, if we seem to pray in vain, then why bother? Surely, we might say, we can be Christians without having to believe in prayer?

This is my own point of puzzlement… On many different levels, I don’t see how someone could be a Christian and disbelieve in the power of prayer; not because I’m getting on a pedestal here and talking about doctrinal differences, but to go back to what Spong writes, he (apparently) believes that “prayer cannot be a request made to a theistic deity to act in human history in a particular way.” Is this is but one particular definition we are choosing to place upon what prayer “is,” then at least a few things come to mind for me personally:

1.) Regardless of our beliefs regarding the Incarnation and the Trinity, what is the life and ministry of Jesus if not one giant manifestation of God “acting in history?”

2.) Even if we did strip away every single supernatural underpinning of the Gospel, we are still nonetheless left with a ministry and following which was rooted entirely in the inspiration of morality as perceived to be from God. If this inspiration comes from some form of knowledge or experience about God, then what is this if not God acting in history? Which leads me onto:

3.) What on earth use would it be now to seek an articulation and praxis of morality based upon the Gospel, upon teachings regarding humanity’s exemplification of God’s Law, if we do not believe that God will act within human history?

In other words, it seems to me that anyone who wants to bear the title of “Christian” does so because they wish to enact in their lives, and possibly in their surroundings, a system of ethics they perceive to be based upon the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. Now if we choose, then, to believe in God, then I would have to take issue with the idea that God has not acted within human history via the process of prayer at all - simply because that by virtue of living out this inspiration within our own lives, God is acting.

I recently read an interview by Steve Chalke, a prominent (and also controversial in his own ways, surprise surprise) Baptist minister in the UK, who had these words to say on the subject of prayer:

“Prayer is a longing. You do not say it, you long it, dream it, imagine it, give your life for it, weep over it. It keeps you up late at night, it is your soul crying out and not just neat words with an amen at the end. If you mean it you will live it. The words rest on your soul and grip you.”

This rings true with my own very, very, very limited understanding of what prayer is and why every Christian must consider it their duty - In prayer, we are not just committing our burdens, longings, and hopes to the Almighty God, we are committing ourselves to Him as well. As Chalke says, we must live prayer, not just speak it. It makes no sense to pray for injustice to cease if we are not enacting justice in our own lives, nor does it make any sense to pray for peace if we are not being peacemakers in our own lives.

This is not to say, I must add, that I am centralising the conceptual power of prayer entirely within the realms of human action, less the reality of God’s own power be invalidated. However, before we can even begin to have faith in the miraculous (which I trust is partially the reason why so many Christians, myself included, struggle with prayer), we must have faith in the miracle that God has enacted within our own lives as well. Namely, confirming us as made in His Image, then sanctifying, inspiring, and empowering us through the name of Christ. When we have faith, and when we act in that faith, it is then that we see the power of our prayers at work.

Good Citizenship

Simon Barrow at Ekklesia writes:

“Good citizenship is not about flag-waving, metaphorically or otherwise. It’s about the just practices, shared habits and practical ways of organising our public lives which enable people to belong to one another across boundaries like those created by nation states, not in subjection to them.”

Read the rest of the article here.

Meditations on Community

It’ s quite strange that as for the last couple of weeks I’ve been thinking about the idea of community within a Christian context, the good folks over at Jesus Manifesto have written an article which expresses my thoughts almost word for word. It was enough to make me wonder whether repeating such thoughts here beyond simply linking to them would even be necessary. However, you can’t keep a good man down, can you?

To compliment my earlier posts on state non participation and the contrast between idealism and realism, the question remains that even if Christians are to remove themselves from the myriad power structures of the world which breed and exacerbate injustice, then what exactly is it that Christians ought to be doing themselves? Surely being a peacemaker means more than simply disbelieving in violence? Does not being defender of the weak constitute some form of action? And if we are to speak out against injustices in the world, then how should we be acting in order to compliment the voices we raise? The fight for justice most surely means far more than endless ranting.

The difficulty is found in that the individual is left wondering exactly what it is they can do about these issues, and the article at Jesus Manifesto to which I linked highlights this problem somewhat. While the individual is certainly empowered within their own sphere of influence, there is inevitably (and perhaps somewhat tragically) a limit at which their efforts will prove fruitless. This is actually through no fault of our own, but rather due to the fact that Christianity is not meant to be an individualistic faith, but rather one which is pursued in the solidarity, accountability, and community of others who are working toward the same spiritual and social goals. While our relationship with God in Christ will certainly call us to periods of solitude and private contemplation, these periods are usually followed by a call to sharing and action among others. This is true even of the monastics, who, though they separate themselves from society, nonetheless commune with one another rather than constantly being in solitude. When all is said and done, we are formed in the image of community for the purpose of community. Just as God resides as an eternal expression of relational love, so we too who are created in His image find our ultimate satisfaction within relating love to others.

This ties in well with the quandary faced by Christians at large today, about how to possibly combat so many social issues and injustices. It is possibly time to consider that the reason we so often feel inadequate and lacking in resourcefulness is because we are taking on an individual fight when in fact the fight is served in community. This realisation is especially pertinent to a time when many who feel burdened or disillusioned with situations in the world will compromise themselves and turn over control and responsibility to those very power structures from which we are called to be separate. And who can blame us when this happens, in all honesty? We’re all guilty of this, this sense of feeling so helpless and exhausted that we search within the realms of partisan politics and capitalist economics in order to provide our salvation. “Perhaps we can reform the system! If we vote a certain politician into power who defends some of the issues we believe in, then we can make a difference! If we support this corporation, we can provide jobs and aid for the poor!”

Many don’t perceive there to even be a problem with this line of thinking, and I perceive this to be a great tragedy of how we as a Church (and indeed, as a human race) have been so heavily duped by the trappings of Empire that we can see no distinction between our operation as Christians and their operation as institutions. These thoughts are even more heavily highlighted when one stops to ponder that many simply don’t have time and space in order to commit themselves to working in ways that would otherwise directly tackle such problems, and therefore the decision to place reliance upon the institutional frameworks of society seems all the more justified.

The solution is not in such insidious compromises, but rather in the effort to return to our state as a community operating together in the unity and sanctity of the Holy Spirit. Rather than investing ourselves in partisan politics and inequitable economics (which stifles our prophetic voice by restricting the power of God to act through us), the time has come to embody an alternative to such systems. As much as we might try this as individuals, and even succeed in some places, such witness against injustice only comes from our collective effort as a body of believers who commit ourselves daily not just to our respective positions of work, but also our primary work as people called in the Spirit of Christ to love. When this happens, even those whose professions demand copious amounts of time find themselves able to live out the changes they would wish to see in the world, by actually living as the change themselves. Community is more than combined effort; it is the embodiment of an alternative economics, and an altogether way of life. Martin Luther King Jr. recalled in one of his addresses that when the early Christians entered a town, the status quo became disturbed by their very presence, and were often the target of incredible accusations such as “turning the world upside down.” (Acts 17:6-7) The Christians’ way of life was too much for the people around them, it was TOO BIG to even measure. By the otherwise simple actions of sharing wealth, renouncing possessions, and loving each other, the Church was set at odds with Caesar, and the Empire trembled.

Does the Empire tremble today? It doesn’t have much reason to, we keep electing its officials into power and relying on its corporate outlets! How are we disturbing the status quo today? Are we providing a witness to the Caesars of our time? Or have we tragically become Caesars ourselves?

The time has come to “come out from among them and be separate.” (2 Corinthians 6:17) Not in the sense of being completely dissociated from society, but rather impacting it and transforming it. Instead of stifling the power of God in our lives and being spiritually estranged from one another, let us seek the alternatives in our time, in the here and now, and no longer relinquish our control over to the god of this world. Let us embody a better way to live, so that as Mary herself sung, kings might be shamed, the rich made low, and the poor brought high. May all of us come and stand together in the equalising reign of the Almighty God, whose Kingdom usurps all other kingdoms before Him, and whose economy will never leave the poor unattended.

Blessed are the…?

Presumably I wasn’t supposed to find this ironic…

Prayer - Part I

This was suggested to me almost a year ago by a friend of mine, to make a series of blog posts exploring the subject of prayer. When I think about it, it has to be a series because prayer is one of those intricate, complex, and deeply mysterious subjects that it seems almost insulting to dedicate one post to it, especially on a blog as trivial as this one. The questions that often come to mind even for the most committed of Christians might include:

“What is prayer?”

“Why do we pray?”

“How do we pray?”

“How often do we pray?”

“What difference does it make?”

And so on. I can’t promise to explore all of these questions in the order I’ve just presented them there, nor can I promise that each of these posts will be particularly substantive. That is just as well, however, since I want to be explaining less of my own opinion and more of possibilities, ideas, and how they relate to our own lives as Christians. In others words: Expect less of my usual “essay-type” posts and more musings to hopefully inspire discussion.

I suppose in a very naive and simple way, I take prayer to be communion with God. I have often felt it important to make a distinction between “communication” and “communion.” To commune with someone signifies a familiar relationship, a bond, intimacy, and closeness. It is distinct from communication because communication, while important in any relationship, is not necessarily restricted to the bounds of a close relationship. I think of prayer in terms not just of speaking to God, but also putting myself before the presence of God and in turn allowing His presence in my life. If I had to think from the top of my head an answer to the question “What is prayer?” I would probably have to say in concise (and there insufficient) terms that it is the drawing close of oneself to God, so that He may in turn draw close to us.

In this sense, I am incline to think that the questions “What is prayer?” and “Why do we pray?” are inextricable linked to each other. It seems to me that they both have the same answer, that if prayer is communion with God then we would naturally feel a compulsion to pray as the expression of the love we have for Him. To get personal for a minute, it has often been the case that, shamefully, I look at prayer as a chore. I might think to myself that I haven’t prayed for a while, or else resign myself to the notion that I had better pray in the same way I might think of, say, getting the grocery shopping done. Then I think to myself, what a disgusting attitude to have! What is sweeter than a close, personal, and fully-reciprocated relationship with the living God, the Creator, Sustainer, and Redeemer of all things? Why is it the case that I should look at being in the presence of Majesty itself as being a chore to begrudge? Lord, have mercy. I should instead be longing for prayer, for my time in the embrace of God, just as a lover longs to be with their beloved.

Of course, I suspect that I’m not the only Christian who struggles with this mindset, nor must I be the member of a minority in the Church. I have spoken to many friends and peers, some with much deeper faith than myself, who tell me that at times they find it very difficult to settle into the quiet presence of the Lord. Could this be the result of errant thinking on our part, a disordering of our priorities, the fruit of sin, or something else? Perhaps a little of everything?

In any case, the short answer to the questions of what prayer is and why we participate in it, might be reduced to love: Prayer is but one act of faithfully loving God, and we pray because we love God. At least, that is how I see things myself.

In upcoming posts, I hope to lend a little exploration as to the nature of prayer, how we pray, and what prayer actually achieves. In the meantime, all comments are welcome.

Idealism and Realism

I may have talked about this a little in my previous post, but the difference between idealism and realism is one which has captured my meditation for some time. This has in a large part been due to the accusation of being “idealistic” directed toward me by a few people, and also because I’ve noted others employing the term about certain individuals who tend to be outspoken and, as it would appear, “unrealistic” in their hopes, at least from the perspective of the people using the term.

It seems that the two qualities, then, have become mutually exclusive in our own minds. My friend Jeremy, a pastor for One Church Ministries, tells me that in his view, idealism comes when we fail to understand the realism of our situations. I have seen this sentiment echoed somewhat from other friends of mine, not in those exact words, but rather in a general sense of defeatism. That is, what good is it to stand up for a particular set of values if the rest of the world looks ridiculously probably to never adopt those values for itself? Surely we just become voices lost to the cries of an insurmountably-opposing crowd?

The argument I am quite often up against, even from my own brethren, is “one person cannot make any difference.”

With the utmost respect and love toward these friends, I must say that I have grown to despise such words. What fatalism, what utter defeatism, is present elsewhere moreso than in the idea that we individuals have absolutely no influence over the world around us? If this pathetic response were taken to its fullest logical conclusion, what would be the point in ever working for a better world at all? And from a Christian perspective, what good of ever working to build the Kingdom? Why even bother being a disciple at all, to stand for the cause of goodness, to provide a witness to the nations of a better way of living?

To save ourselves from Hell? Is it that to which the Gospel of life and transformation has been reduced?

I feel that to hold ideals shouldn’t be treated as a distinct position from appreciating realism. To those who would say that one person cannot make any difference, I submit to you the power of the One who overcame the world (John 16:33). I would also submit that as long as others continue to think the way we might do upon this point, then defeatism becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy since none of us has ever even tried to effect any change.

Beyond these points, I would even go so far as to say that realism should not hinder us in any respect from enacting the ideals we wish to see propagated in the world within our own lives. To act in testimony for an alternative world is first to be obedient, and then to speak one’s own voice even in the event that no one will listen to it. What is the point of that? The point is to be that prophetic witness, and to allow others the opportunity to follow. As Leo Tolstoy has said, “People often speak of changing the world, but no one thinks to change themselves.” Therein lies the meeting point between idealism and realism.

To speak of my own ideals, I as a citizen of the one Kingdom will not pledge my allegiance to any kingdom on earth, and I will do everything in my power to enact fairness and justice within my own life. Does that mean that I expect governments to topple over, capitalism to fall, and the entire world to come together in harmony anytime soon? Of course not, only the power of God when His Kingdom comes in fullness will this be accomplished, but I endeavour to stand as the embodiment of that Kingdom in the here and now.

As a vegan, do I expect the entire Western world to stop eating meat and for factory farms to shut down? Of course not, they will probably exist from now until the end of our civilisation. However, must I support these industries myself, and become an integral part of what fuels their corruption and exploitation of the earth? I will not.

As a peacemaker, do I expect that governments will one day relinquish their arms, shut down their armies, and commit themselves to nonviolence? I don’t know about you, but I cannot envisage them ever doing that. What is there to say, however, that I must then resign myself to the ideals of warfare and violence without even speaking of the divine way?

There is a very good chance that none of these things will change until the Kingdom come and God transforms the reality, but to enact it isn’t always about establishing change now, rather to embody the hope that it is coming. Injustices against humanity, creation, and beast alike will doubtless all continue until the end of the age, but we who are in Christ are building justice and bringing the god of this world to shame. The people who are of this world will do what they will do, and we who are not of it will do what we will do. Therein lies not just idealism and realism, but also the serenity and passion of Christian hope.

When all of this is kept in mind, one person can make all the difference.

Christian Nonparticipation in State Politics

I’ve been having a lot of interesting discussions with several friends lately, regarding the relationship between the Church and the State. I’ve often either been criticised or questioned (in a friendly way) about how I happen to view this dynamic, and I suppose this is because I’ve been seen as “idealistic” or else impractical about many of my perceptions regarding how the Christian is best to respond to politics. In a sense, it doesn’t logically follow that one would remove themselves entirely from politics, because politics is a component of everyday life - it permeates how we view our interactions with people, how we respond to our economy and the means of exchange we utilise, how we feel about issues such as third world debt and climate change, our feelings regarding war and peace, so on and so forth. Since politics is an expression of how we respond to each other, the question becomes not are we political, but how are we political?

Now I’ve talked a lot on this blog in the past about how I feel Christians are not called to participate in State authority, but I am constantly explicating a reasoning as to why this is so, and I’m sure that the reasons I’ve gone through in the past are not particularly convincing. Not because I’m necessarily out to “convince” others, but I imagine that if this view held some sort of truth to it, then one would expect it to have at least some kind of valid support, however debatable it might be.

One of the major difficulties with forging an appropriate Christian response to the State is that there are actually many ways to engage with it, ranging from entering the ballot and casting our vote, all the way up to the seat of Premier. Even if one distances themselves from the direct processes of governmental election, then there are still other ways to engage with government, such as through protest, campaigning, and lobbying (which, as some of you know, I happen to personally be involved in). Given the complexity and diversity of these various forms of engagement, how on earth is the Christian to know whether something is right or wrong, or at the very least helpful or unhelpful?

I feel it’s important to say from the outset that I will most likely be asking myself these questions and forging these opinions until the day I die and God shows me the right way; for now, I, like anyone else, know in part and prophesy in part, and so I can only stand confident in my own perspectives and hope that others might gain something positive from them as much as I gain something positive from the perspectives of others. It is my sincere prayer that we balance the confidence to express our individual convictions with the humility we need to view each other as both student and teacher. May God enlighten us all equally in the ways we are right and the ways we are wrong.

Having said all that, I would like to make a personal exploration of how I view my own response to State politics.

I was having a discussion about this very subject earlier with my friend Carl, and while we disagree on the issue in some prominent respects, our agreement is found in that we both see the State as a “necessary evil.” Ultimately, there is no getting away from this, that the world requires governmental authority as a means to instill order in society and to keep the status quo set by means of law and control. In fact, the entire thrust of Romans 13 is that God uses the authorities precisely for this, and that because of this we are called to “submit” to them. I discuss this topic in more detail in this post, so I need not go into detail here, but what I will say is that there is certainly a Biblical precedent for the governing authorities to be as they are, and that to overthrow them would either be disastrous for humanity or else would leave a vacuum for some other power to fill.

In light of passages like Romans 13, the argument often comes that surely it is good, then, for Christians to engage in governmental processes and they are able to serve both God and man in this way? I could certainly understand this position, but I must disagree with it for the following reasons:

1.) Any Christian who enters a position of direct political authority will ultimately have to make a compromise in their personal ethics. For example, the leaders of any particular country must necessarily be prepared to resort to military intervention if need be. This will happen either if the situation calls for it, or else the citizens of this country demand such intervention. While this is obviously hypothetical, I can certainly imagine the kind of outcry that would result if a national leader said that he was going to divert all military funding into constructive purposes, or if s/he were called to a situation of having to engage the military and instead opted not to resort to such action. As the institution of government currently stands, it necessarily relies on violence to maintain its structures, and Christians have been called to lay down our swords, to love our enemies, and bless those who curse us. I submit it would be very difficult if not impossible for a person in political authority to hold to this ethic, at least the higher up in ranks they travelled.

2.) The problem of violence itself is but one component within the larger dynamic of national citizenship. A person who enters a position of authority isn’t just plagued by the problem of violence, for even if a government acted in a completely nonviolent manner, they would need to consider that their allegiance becomes owed to the nation forming the parameters over which that institution operates. The reason this is problematic for the Christian is that we have our citizenship in Heaven alone, and the love to which we are called compels us to extend love to all humanity in a way that national borders cannot contain. As it is written in Galatians 3:26-29, all the socio-economic barriers which usually stand in our way are effectively removed when we are found to be in Christ Jesus. Salvation is a social event which brings humanity into unity with one another, leaving behind the old illusions of political division, whether they be racial, economic, gender-based, or anything else. In plain and simple terms, how can someone serve two masters?

3.) The concept of hierarchy is one which the world needs, but which Christians reject in favour of humility and cooperation. While it is true that not everyone who seeks to enter political office is doing so because they crave power (and indeed, I acknowledge wholeheartedly that many do seek such positions out of sincerity, integrity, and a genuine heart to serve), they are necessarily forming part of a structure based on the foundation of certain individuals exercising forceful dominion over others. Now some might say “What is wrong with that? We can’t let society run amok!” And I completely agree. The point I’m making is that Christians are called to a different way of operating. In Mark 10:35-45, Jesus rebukes the disciples James and John for seeking positions of power. He informs them that they are seeking the wrong things, illustrating how the rulers of the Gentiles “lord it over them” and explaining to the disciples that this was not going to be the case with them. Rather, for the followers of Christ, true greatness is found in being the slave of all people, and being willing to act in love toward everyone regardless of position and national identity. The power relationship inherent in systems of government automatically mean that the Christian will have to compromise on this ethic, devoting their service to one particular nation and holding dominion over others, when in fact they are called to serve all nations and to hold no power other than that of the Holy Spirit who drives us to offer ourselves in love.

This of course is a summation, and the above is not meant to be an exhaustive list, but rather the most pertinent examples of why I feel Christians are not called to be part of governmental authority. To use words I spoke to another very good friend of mine the other day, it is as if we say to the State:

“You rely on military force, but we espouse peace. You say that we should serve our country, but we are citizens of Heaven and view every nation as our home. You maintain order by bullets, law courts, and prisons, but we love our enemies, bless those who curse us, and seek their redemption, not their destruction. You horde wealth and power for yourselves and commend those who do the same, yet we have sold everything we have to live among each other and serve all humanity.”

If all of that happens, and more aside, why is there anymore need for the State as far as a follower of Christ is concerned? I see that the Church is meant to offer a way of life alternative to the world’s ways of working, where the focus is very much on power, material wealth, consumerism, nationalism, and the ends justifying the means. Our function on earth is to be agents of transformation for the power of God to work in the world and eventually restore it, which I don’t perceive can be done (or at least, would come highly difficult) via authoritarian means.

Now, there are other problems involved here. Some might argue that we require government in order to make changes that the individual could never otherwise make on their own. Others might agree with some or most of the arguments I’ve posited above, but might, say, opt to vote as a concession to the way things currently are. Now as I stated earlier, I really don’t want to approach this from a standpoint of condemnation, because I can perfectly understand those arguments myself. When we want certain matters of justice changed, it seems almost a foregone conclusion to turn to those in power for our desires, and voting is but one of the ways in which this is done. Likewise, I could certainly understand how sincere Christians feel compelled to seek change through involving themselves in the partisan process. Again, the problem is, are we focusing on the correct matters? A foregone conclusion our dependency on government might be, but could it possibly be an illusion that fools us into thinking we hold no real influence of our own? Desperation can certainly get the better of us, but I would submit that there has come a compromise on the Christian when s/he feels that a change is better made by participating in the process of law and legislation, without asking the questions about how those changes could be made by the love, gifts, and empowerment accorded to us by God. In spite of the State’s failings, how can we be acting both as individuals and as a Church to repair the damage of empire? It seems to me that if the members of the worldwide Church committed themselves to asking these questions and enacting them in whatever way we can, instead of relying on ballot papers and politicians, then many of our desires might come to pass, and even if they did not then our actions and convictions would still act as a witness to the governing authorities (Martin Luther King Jr. as a case in point, who held no political power but whose leadership and voice appealed to the conscience of the nation). A large part of the problem, I think, is that we have become so cynical about human nature (and about ourselves) that we see no other alternative than to involve ourselves in the State.

Now how do I reconcile all this by the fact that I am involved in campaigning? I have often been criticised by my friends from both sides for this apparent contradiction, from my fellow campaigners about the subversive inclinations of my faith, and from other subversives about how I am “legitimising” the State by appealing to it. Again, I see that two-kingdom theory comes into play well for this one. I can certainly see there would be a perceived contradiction here, but I do not view it as that simply because I’m not directly involved in the governmental process. I do not seek any power, but at the same time those powers are in existence, and I have faith that God can use them for certain functions the world requires, at least until Christ returns and there is no longer any need for them. Much like we are commanded to pray for those in leadership positions (1 Timothy 2), I see there being a definite need to call the authorities to attention regarding various injustices (such as the ones they might be perpetuating themselves!), otherwise they would never be held to accountability. Not everyone would agree with me on this point, but I see it as a balance between being uncompromising in my convictions while also approaching the world with a sense of realism.

In spite of all this, I know many Christians who are members of political parties or who feel a compulsion to vote, and I do not condemn this, I only speak of how I personally see the problematic nature of such actions. While I see that it becomes progressively harder to enact our Christian morality from the ballot booth to 10 Downing Street (or the White House), there is still a sense in which one may feel faithful to their calling. As with anything else, however, all things are permissible… but which things are helpful?

What Kind of Extremist?

Someone dear to me, a little while ago, criticised me for having extremist views, and I presume they continue to think of me this way. Today, I was sent a quote which I think adequately sums up my opinion on and response to such a criticism:

“But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love; ‘love your enemies, bless them that curse you’… Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice?”
- Martin Luther King Jr, Letter From Birmingham Jail