Christ-Exalting Diversity
As we look to the national holiday honoring Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I’m honored to share with you some vital thoughts on Christ-exalting diversity, from one of the world’s foremost historians, Dr. Mark Noll. This is an excerpt from the foreword to my book, Letters to a Birmingham Jail:
Bryan Loritts hasrecruited a serious lineup of pastors, Bible teachers, and Christian seniorstatesmen to do something that might seem foolish. He has asked them to write letters to thelate Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., in response to his famous “Letter from theBirmingham Jail.” Dr. King wrote that letter to the white Protestant clergymenof that city in April 1963. They had expressed measured approval of civilrights in principle, but had also cautioned King and his associates aboutmoving too fast or becoming too radical in pursuit of their goals. King responded with a classic statementdefending the moral–indeed, the biblical–imperative for full civil equalityfor black Americans, and for obtaining that equality NOW.
But that, areasonable person might say, was fifty years ago. Why should Bryan Loritts and hiscollaborators bring up the subject now?Almost no American in the early twenty-first century objects to lawsmandating segregation. Almost no onebelieves Jim Crow was right. Almosteveryone thinks that equal opportunity under the law is a good and properthing.
Besides, did notthe election of Barack Obama as the United States’ first African-Americanpresident mark an important turning point in the nation’s history. Since he took office in January 2009,opponents of Obama have mostly criticized his policies, while his supportershave mostly defended those policies.Except for a tiny fringe of the populace, the president’s ethnicity hasbeen almost a non-factor. Moreover, inthe United States’ recent past, well publicized other political controversies,with economic problems uppermost, have dominated public attention.
Yet for historiansand Bible-believers alike, there is in fact a great deal more to be said. Quite a few historians, including myself,believe that many of the most important events in American history haveinvolved race in conjunction with religion.Quite a few Bible-believers, including the authors in this volume,believe that the explicitly Christian struggle against racism remains to bewon.
Looked at from astrictly historical angle, the United States continues to reap great evils fromthe seed that was sown through centuries of slavery and a century ofsegregation. Yet guided by candidateseager to be elected and enabled by pundits eager to be heard, we Americansmostly ignore an alarming set of immense social problems.
Whether bycomparison with other western democracies, or even by comparison with manycountries in the so-called developing world, the American social order is rivenwith pathologies. These pathologies havearisen from many factors, but the nation’s racial history is everywhere prime amongthose factors. Here is a shortlist: the U.S. has by far the highestrates of incarceration in the western world; it witnesses more gun violencethan any other so-called civilized country; its entertainment industryglorifies violence, misogyny, sexual promiscuity, and infantileself-indulgence; it offers less medical and family support for the poor thanany other western nation; it maintains inequalities of wealth on a par with thecleptocracies of the Third World; its rate of infant mortality is several timeshigher than most western countries; and, most grievously, the nation iswitnessing a disastrous collapse of the two-parent family as the accepted normfor giving birth and raising children. The United States’ racial history is notsolely responsible for these indices of social pathology, but that history hascontributed substantially to every one of them.
Even more, most ofus believers need to confess that at least some of the time and in some of ouractions, we actively or passively nurture some of the underlying prejudice,paternalism, or attitudes that remainfrom our country’s racist past.
Christianbelievers who view race and religion as defining the deepest moral failing inAmerican history should be very concerned about heeding the Scriptures that wesay we trust, as we approach questions of black-white racialreconciliation. In dynamic fashion, thisbook outlines the continuing scope of the problem. It also points to the proper medicine for ourdisease–deeper commitment to the biblical message that in Christ the walls ofprejudice that divide people from people have been broken down once and forall.
It is a book that,in its own way, is as timely as the letter that Martin Luther King, Jr. wrotefifty years ago.
MarkA. Noll
Professorof History, University of Notre Dame
Member,South Bend Christian Reformed Church
An Open Letter to My Brother Ta-Nehisi Coates
My Brother,
When I saw you were being likened to our modern day James Baldwin, and your recent offering was being lauded as our Fire Next Time, I just had to order your book, “Between the World and Me”. As I began my journey through your book there was this silent hope I had not been had by marketing hyperbole. I was not disappointed. In the course of a few hours I devoured your book.
You were created to write. I would have consumed your work even faster if it wasn’t for lines like these, forcing me to stop, and turn them over in my mind: “To yell ‘black on black crime’ is to shoot a man and then shame him for bleeding.” What a gift.
Both the timing and the prophetic bite to your book makes the comparison to James Baldwins, Fire Next Time inescapable. You both write when race has become the most volatile subject of our life times (of course race has always been an issue here in America). I’m not sure when you were born, Brother Coates, but it seems as if we are around the same age. As I ventured through your pages I felt my head nothing constantly, as if I were some bobble-head doll, remembering the style of dress, musicians and sociological settings of what seems to be a life time ago.
I, like you, have a teenage son (along with two younger sons), and share your harrowing concern for his “body”. We’ve talked extensively about how to respond to police in the likely event of confrontation. I labor over how to instruct my children in showing respect to the often white power structures who can harm their “bodies” without falling over the precipice into a Jim Crow like loss of dignity. And I find myself guilt ridden at times over the strength of my discipline, knowing their margin for error as children of color in our society is slight. You put pen to my guilt:
Now at night, I held you and a great fear, wide as all our American generations, took me. Now I personally understood my father and the old mantra—“Either I can beat him or the police.” I understood it all—the cable wires, the extension cords, the ritual switch. Black people love their children with a kind of obsession. You are all we have, and you come to us endangered. I think we would like to kill you ourselves before seeing you killed by the streets that America made. That is a philosophy of the disembodied, of a people who control nothing, who can protect nothing, who are made to fear not just the criminals among them but the police who lord over them with all the moral authority of a protection racket.
Yours, Brother Coates, is a powerful work, insightful, prolific and prophetic. Yet, it is a very dark book, leaving me asking where is the hope? You don’t seem to have the acidic despair of pre-mecca Malcolm, but neither the subtlety of Ellison. Between the World and Me seems to fit somewhere betwixt Malcolm and Ellison’s, The Invisible Man.
I caught glimpses of your hopelessness when you made mention of not going to church, and yet even in this you are refreshingly vulnerable, wondering if your distance from “that institution” has caused you to “miss something”? Most beautiful and telling of all is your passage on the eyes of our parents generation who were a part of the civil rights movement. Those eyes, you notice, had something in them, something that seemed to be “fastened to their god”.
I grew up in the black church, Brother Coates, where I learned of Jesus on long hot Sunday afternoons while dressed in a suit with no air conditioning, as my feet dangled off the pew, sweat dripped down my neck, and my only sense of relief was a wooden stick the ushers handed to me where a piece of cardboard was fastened to it with a picture of Dr. King on what side, and a funeral home advertisement on the other.
My father lead me to faith in Jesus, and made sure we were in church every Sunday. My black parents are not perfect, but have lived out the hope of the gospel for forty-four years together as husband and wife. My dads parents were likewise Christians who attended an AME church, where Jesus had been the center of their marriage for over fifty-three years. I’ll spare you all the details, but we can actually trace our lineage back to pre-emancipation days, where my great-great grandfather, Peter, was a slave, who was lead to faith by his master (a sad irony, isn’t it?), would go onto marry, and have a family built on the hope of the gospel. In my direct line there’s no such thing as a man who divorced or didn’t believe in Jesus.
Our stories are different, Brother Coates, I know. But I’ve often asked what kept my great-great grandfather, a slave, praying? Hope. What sustained my grandparents when they left North Carolina somewhere in the 1940′s, as part of that mass exodus known as The Great Migration? Hope. And why did my father not be overcome with bitterness when an elderly white man, who was clearly in the wrong, rammed his car into my father’s, then called him a nigger? Hope.
And what is that look in our parents eyes as they marched in places like Selma and Birmingham and sat down at segregated counters in Winston-Salem? Hope.
Brother Coates, to be black in 2015 means you and I have been burdened with the legacy of declaring a prophetic truth to our sons and the power structures of our day, but it also means we do so ensconced in a bright hope, the kind of hope our songwriter Thomas Dorsey had, or Mahalia Jackson sang about or Dr. King preached.
You develop your book around the theme of the black body, what an image. Our grandparents took pains when it came to the black body, did they not, Brother Coates? I can still see my grandmother in her pearls, and all white outfit, headed out the door Sunday morning for church where she was a part of the mother’s board. I never saw my grandfather in jeans, even when he was just going to play checkers at the barber shop. He’d put on slacks, dress shirt, suspenders and a nice hat. The black body mattered to them. The way they dressed was a shaking of the fist in the face of those who sought to take away their dignity. Their black bodies spoke of hope.
The danger of a prophetic truth devoid of hope is it gives license to the oppressed to remain victims, and when a person becomes comfortable as a victim they do irreparable damage to themselves and to others. Prophetic truth without hope leads to riots. Prophetic truth and hope leads to marches and protests and change and Sunday best.
We need you, Brother Coates. You have an other-worldly gift. My prayer for you is you will stare at the eyes of our grandparents yet again, and find what they had, that “something way beyond,” and share it with the world.
Yours,
Bryan Loritts
Why I Write My Sermons Word for Word
This year marks my twenty-fifth year in preaching, and for a little over half of that time I’ve been in the habit of writing my sermons word for word. The discipline of manuscripting the messages has proved of great benefit to myself, and has born fruit in my labors as a preacher. In fact, when I think about it, there’s five reasons I write my sermons word for word:
It’s Just How My Mind Works:
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years in watching preachers closely, it’s there’s a million ways to preach effectively. Glenn Wagner took his manuscript with him into the pulpit, reading it word for word to great effect. Then you have preachers like Dr. Tony Evans who very rarely, if ever, uses notes. Bishop Kenneth Ulmer works from an outline. I mean, there’s just so many methods out there. The key is to find one that works best for you, and if you’re a young preacher my hunch is you’ll stumble onto it through some trial and error. Me, I use a manuscript, but I never take it with me into the preaching moment, because it’s just how my mind works. I don’t have a photographic memory, but I do tend to see words in my mind. If you were to invite me to your house for the first time, and try to draw me a picture of how to get there, I’d never make it; but if you wrote it out, word for word, I’d get there…early. It’s just how my mind works.
For Clarity:
My colleague, Pastor H.B. Charles, talks about how manuscripting the message helps the preacher to “write themselves clear”. I love this phrasing. It’s so true. There’s something about taking my pile of notes, and the emerging outline, and laboring as a word smith to find that right phrase. No doubt, it can be frustrating, having to hit delete many times. But the process is so worth it. I manuscript to write myself clear. There’s not a whole lot of difference between a clear heretic and a foggy, but orthodox preacher. How can you tell they have right doctrine if it’s unclear?
To Keep Me Free of the Manuscript:
Yeh, but doesn’t manuscript preaching keep you bound? Don’t you want to be free to follow the extemporaneous leading of the Holy Spirit? These are great questions. A couple of thoughts. Let’s not limit the Holy Spirit to a particular time and locale. He’s just as much with me in my study as I write the manuscript as he is on Sunday’s when I’m preaching. I’d also say manuscripting has made me even more free, more unbound, as a preacher. An irreducible minimum to effective preaching is having a grasp on your next thought. When you are confident of where you’re going, you have even more freedom to follow the Holy Spirit when he all of a sudden he takes you on a path that deviates from the script. You know how to get back. As one of my preaching professors said, “Less scared when prepared”. A well internalized manuscript doesn’t tie you up, it actually unleashes you.
Itinerate Preaching:
When I’m finished with the manuscript, it’s filed away in my dropbox folder, easily accessible, of course, from anywhere. This is a huge help when I travel. After careful prayer, God will guide me to a particular text and message I’ve preached before, and I can pull up the manuscript, give it a few reads, and be ready to go. There’s a multiplying factor when it comes to manuscripting.
Writing Ministry:
I just turned in my latest book to the publisher. It was based on a series of sermons I gave some years back. Now, I know there’s a difference between writing to the ear (sermon manuscripts) and writing to the eye (books), but what manuscripting has done for me is to give me a running start in my writing projects. You may not imagine a day when you will publish, but you never know.
Goodness Sermon Manuscript
Goodness
Lamentations 3:22-33
When Whitney Houston died, manyof us were shocked and deeply saddened.She was, after all, one of the greatest singers to have ever lived. At her funeral, Kevin Costner, her co-star inthe early 90s classic, The Bodyguard,recalled the time when she did her screen test.Everyone on set was so excited to be in her presence, yet when it cametime to do her test, she was nowhere to be found. Kevin began to frantically search for her,and he finally found her, staring intently at the mirror, with a sadexpression. Kevin told her it was timefor her to do her test, and Whitney, peering deeply into the mirror wonderedaloud, “Do you think people will like me?Do you think I’m good enough? Doyou think I’m good enough?” Wow. Here you have one of the greatest singersever, in a film that would feature her stunning voice, wondering if she wasgood enough. You know, in our own way weall look into the mirror from time to time and wonder, “Am I good enough?” We wonder if our performance really measuresup. Goodness seems to be so elusive.
A“Good” Culture
Here’s the irony of goodness:Most people in our culture would consider themselves to be fundamentally goodat the end of the day. You know, as I’veentered into spiritual conversations with people who aren’t followers of Jesus,I’ve found that just about everyone acknowledges sin. Everyone would agree they’ve thought, saidand done things they should not. We allpretty much co-sign on sin. But the realbarrier comes when people conclude, that while they’ve sinned, they’re stillfundamentally good. The reason theyarrive at this conclusion is because we are looking to other people as ourstandard for goodness. So, yeh, sureI’ve lied, but I’m not a pedophile.Okay, I’ve gossiped, but I’m no murderer. Yeh, I’ve indulged some in porn, but I givegenerously to that philanthropic cause.Look at the balance sheet at the end of the day and I end up in theblack. I’m pretty much good, as theargument goes.
The problem here of course isthe Christian worldview says we’re using the wrong standard. Goodness, in the Bible is not ultimately amatter of your neighbor’s behavior, but the character of a holy, sinless God. Now that changes the game. It’s sort of like when I was in grade schooland failed a test I would always conduct my own Gallup poll, asking my studentswhat they got. Now you know why I didthat, right? I knew if everyone failedthe teacher would have to grade on a curve.But inevitably there’d be some know it all kid I’d want to lay hands onand not for prayer, why? Because theybroke my curve. Fundamentally, thiskid’s perfection changed the standard.That’s why Jesus was rejected. Helived the life we could never live. Hewas that kid who aced life, and through his actions created an impossiblestandard of goodness we have no hope of living up to outside of Christ. The Christian worldview says we cannot begood on our own, because God, not our neighbor, is the standard.
But on the other hand, while wemay think we’re good, our attempts at white knuckled morality, at striving,says that we don’t really think we’re good.And so to convince ourselves we’re good, many of us go down the path ofperformance. In fact it was the socialpsychologist, Leon Festinger who put forward the social comparison theory inthe 1950’s. He said we all have twoquestions, Why Am I here, and How am I doing? In other words, we tend to judge our worthbased on how we stack up against others. We live in a performance orientedculture that seeks to feel better about themselves through theirachievement. A recent NYT article pointsto this. In this article theyinvestigated a growing trend among elite schools- a steady increase in depressionand suicide. Interesting. Here you have environments filled with thetop performers, and there’s suicide and depression? Kathryn DeWitt, a student at the Universityof Penn had this to say, “As the elderchild of a civil engineer and preschool teacher in San Mateo, CA, Ms. DeWitt,now 20, has understood since kindergarten that she was expected to attend anelite college. [Once there] She awokedaily at 7:30 a.m. and often attended club meetings until as late as10p.m. She worked 10 hours a week aspart of her financial aid package, and studied furiously, especially for hermultivariable calculus class. Would shenever measure up? Was she doingenough? Was she taking full advantage ofall the opportunities? Then came acrushing blow: a score in the low 60s on her calculus midterm. The class was graded on a curve, but surelyshe would fail it, she thought, dooming her plan to major in math and toteach. ‘I had a picture of my future,and as that future deteriorated,’ she said, ‘I stopped imagining another future.’ The pain of being less than what she thoughtto be was unbearable. The only way out,she reasoned with the twisted logic of depression, was death.’”
TheChristian Ethic of Goodness
Stanford University has coineda term to describe students like Kathryn, who seemingly have it together butare falling a part on the inside- duck syndrome. Just like a duck appears to be gliding acrossthe water, but is furiously paddling, performing, struggling to keep afloat,that’s so many people in our culture.Our InstaGram and social media posts may depict good people living thegood life, but if we could look beneath the surface of our lives we’d see usfuriously paddling, trying to perform, wondering how much longer we can keepthis up.
Friends, the Bible offers acompletely different vantage point on what it means to be good. The Bible defines goodness as holiness inaction. Goodness begins with our hearts,and seeps out into our action. The Biblemakes it clear that goodness can only be attained as we walk in relationshipwith God, and not in our efforts to perform.In fact, Isaiah would tell us that our righteousness, that is our selfmanufactured attempts at goodness still isn’t good, they’re as filthyrags. Romans 5 would tell us that all ofour lives have been touched by sin because of Adam and Eve’s sin in thegarden. But now here’s the hope- we canbe good, but that goodness does not come from our performance, but for whatChrist did for us on the cross: “Therefore,as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousnessleads to justification and life for all men.For as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so bythe one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous”- Romans 5:18-19. Goodness awaits us friend, but it does notcome through our performance, but stands in the person of Christ who lived thelife we could not live. But what doesthis mean for us practically? And how dowe express goodness to others?
Goodnessis Performance-Free- 22-23
If God is truly the only goodOne, and that any hope of goodness I may have can only be found in relationshipto him, then if I want to know what goodness is, I should look at God as themodel for what it means to be good. Tohelp us with this I want us to go the book of Lamentations, but I warn you,this is an extremely dark book. Readingthrough the book of Lamentations feels like sitting in a really long funeral,of a person who it’s hard to say anything good about. In fact, I had the same feeling readingLamentations as I did reading Elie Wiesel’s book, Night. The reason why thebook is so dark is because God’s people had sinned greatly, and after years ofwarnings, God finally allows his people to be sent into exile, with the holycity of Jerusalem being under siege. Infact, the name of Lamentations in Hebrew is the word “How,” taken from thefirst word in the book, and it’s a book about How Jerusalem has suffered.
And yet in the middle of allthis darkness and night in the book, our passage offers great light and hope inthe context of despair. And it alsogives us a view to what it practically means to display the fruit of goodnessin our lives. Look with me at verses 22-23. Jeremiah, the author, begins by telling thesewayward, sinful people that the steadfastlove of the LORD never ceases. TheHebrew word translated as “steadfast love” is hesed, and this is a powerfulword. Hesed speaks of God’s covenantallove for his people. It speaks of a lovethat never gives up, gives out or gives in.It’s a performance free love. Howdo we know God is good? Because Goddoesn’t love us with a quid pro quo kind of love. He loves us period.
We see this performance freelove all throughout the bible. One dayGod shows up to the prophet Hosea and tells him I want to use you as a visualaid to depict my performance free love to my wayward people who have brokenfaith. Go and marry a woman of illrepute, Gomer. She will break yourheart, and when she tries to leave, go get her and take her back, because that’show I am with my people. Or take Jesus,God’s Son. On the day of his baptism inMatthew 3, the clouds part and God speaks saying of Jesus, this is my belovedSon in whom I’m well pleased. Now mindyou, this is before Jesus ever performed a miracle or healed or preached. He simply said I’m proud of you (good wordfor we parents). Performance free. The apostle Paul would hint at this when hetold Timothy that even when we are faithless, God remains faithful. Performance free love, this is a huge part ofwhat it means to be and do good in our society.
Tony Campolo, a follower ofJesus and sociologist’s, tells of the time when he had flown from his home inPhiladelphia to Honolulu. Jet lagged andunable to sleep he wanders in a diner in the middle of the night only toencounter a couple of prostitutes in the middle of a crude conversation. The one, a woman named Agnes, let it slipthat her birthday was the next day, and how she had never had a birthday partyin her life. Tony knew exactly what todo. He got the word out on the streetthrough some friends, and decided to throw a surprise birthday party thatabsolutely stunned Agnes. When Agnesleaves, Tony prayed a prayer of blessing over this young prostitute, a littleodd I know. Harry, the guy who ran thediner, at the end of the prayer said, “Hey, what kind of church do you belongto?” Tony said, “I belong to a churchthat throws party’s for prostitutes at 330 in the morning”. Harry said, “No you don’t. No such church exists, if there was I’d joinit”. Oh the power of goodness, aperformance free love to shock and welcome the world!
GoodnessInspires Hope- 24-26
As we journey onward in ourtext we see the goodness of God in his performance free love, and because ofthis, Jeremiah points out, his people have hope. What happens when a person receivesperformance free love? What happens whena person gets goodness they don’t even deserve?I tell you what happens, they get hope, because this person realizesthey are not their performance. In fact,this passage teaches us that God never views you and I through yesterday’sfailures, but through today’s mercies.Wow, now that’s shouting stuff right there!
In Robertson McQuilken’s book, A Promise Kept, he chronicles his loveaffair of 40 plus years with his bride Muriel.For years, Robertson was the president of a university, but when hiswife was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s he resigned to care for her full time. In the early days of caring for her, theywould travel together and Muriel had the habit of being so overwhelmed with hersurroundings she would take off and run.On one such trip in the Atlanta airport Muriel took of running yet againand her husband Robertson ran after her, caught up to her, placed his armaround her and said, “It’s okay sweetheart.It’s okay”. Right then, Robertsonnoticed a young woman off to the side sitting down who mumbled something. When he asked her to repeat what she said,the young woman said, “Oh dear sir, I was just saying, I hope I find a man to loveme like that”. His running after hiswandering bride inspired hope in a watching world.
Oh friends, that’s what Goddoes to us, and what he calls us to do to others. Goodness is not just seen in how we treat theloveable and the upright, it’s in how we relate to those who are different andseemingly unloveable. When we refuse togive up on one another, but keep pursuing each other, even when there’s sin andmess, this is goodness, and this is when the church is at its finest. If you want a picture of goodness real timelook to the great AA scholar and preacher, Robert Smith, Jr, whose son wasbrutally murdered. His killer wascaptured and is serving time in jail.While in jail Robert reached out to his son’s killer, and showed himastounding goodness, a performance free love, by forgiving them and the two arenow friends. In fact, his son’s killeris a believer and wants to attend seminary when he gets out. Robert Smith, Jr. Has started a scholarshipat the seminary he teaches in memory of his slain son, and has every intentionto award his sons killer the scholarship.Why? Because he’s received thegoodness of God, and is passing it along.And this goodness is inspiring hope in his son’s killer, and to thewatching world.
Goodnessis Fixated on Others Well-Being, Not Their Happiness- 31-33
As our text comes to a close, look at what Jeremiah says inthe last several verses. He talks aboutGod casting off and causing grief, watch this now, all underthe heading of God’s goodness. This isshocking, but it shouldn’t be, because it teaches us a valuable lesson aboutgoodness. Goodness is not alwaysconcerned with happiness. Instead, whatwe learn about goodness is that it is fixated on the other person’s well being,not ultimately their happiness. God ismore than comfortable either causing or allowing short term pain for long termshalom or well being, and sometimes the way he gets to this is throughdiscomfort and even pain. What’s gooddoes not always feel good.
Prosperity can be an awfulteacher. The poet Robert BrowningHamilton understood this when he wrote, “Iwalked a mile with Pleasure/She chattered all the way/But left me none thewiser/For all she had to say. I walked amile with Sorrow/And ne’er a word said she/But, oh, the things I learned fromher/When Sorrow walked with me”- Robert Browning Hamilton. What’s good does not always feel good. There was a recent article in the Atlantic entitled, “Let Kids Play With Fire, And Other Rules for Good Parenting”. In this article the author points out thelack of resiliency he’s seeing among today’s younger generation. He says the reason why kids are growing up soweak is because of helicopter, hovering parents, whose biggest concern in lifeis the happiness of their kids. They wantthem to feel good. He argues that doingwhat feels good for your kids is not what’s ultimately good for them.
Conclusion:
Goodness does not always equateinto happiness, and this changes the ballgame as it relates to our perspectiveof God and how he parents us. See, Ithink one of the main reasons we get so upset at the problem of God and evil,is because in our hearts we think God is ultimately for my happiness. But when I see that God is more for mywholeness than my happiness, now I understand that sometimes this means Godeither doing or allowing some rough things in my life, because he has the longview on my development. And thisperspective also changes the ballgame when it comes to how I husband, parentand friend. Goodness is not just givingmoney, or spending time, but goodness is also having a hard conversation,risking the friendship because I’m concerned about their shalom. Goodness is also making my sons read bookswhen they’d be more happy playing video games all day long. Goodness is saying no to that person’srepeated requests for money because you’re realizing your enabling and notempowering. This is goodness too,because I’m concerned for their wholeness, and not just their happiness.
So as we prepare our hearts forcommunion, this different perspective on communion helps us to betterunderstand the horrors of crucifixion and a good God. God was good to, as Isaiah said, crush Jesuson the cross. Why? Because that was the only way we could beadopted into the family. And as you takecommunion, some of you maybe going through difficult times right now. Hard times.This is God’s goodness. What’sgood for you, doesn’t always feel good to you.Thank him for his goodness.
A Vintage Kindness
Not long into David’s tenure asking, he asked an interesting question, “Is there still anyone left of thehouse of Saul, that I may show him kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” (II Samuel9:1). David’s question had to haveshocked his cabinet, especially when the universal custom of the day was forthe new king to immediately exterminate the remaining members of hispredecessor’s family. But after somethinking, Saul’s grandson, Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan, ismentioned. “Go get him,” David says inso many words. He was anxious to showhim kindness.
Kindness has often beenconfused with niceness, and this is unfortunate. Dr. Barry Corey, president of BiolaUniversity, argues well in his forthcoming book that kindness and niceness mustnever be confused. Niceness has a gooey, conviction-less core, with spongyedges. At the other extreme of nicenessis acidic aggression, or meanness, with its hard core and abrasive edges. Then there’s kindness. Kindness, Dr. Corey says, has a firm core,filled with courage and conviction, yet surrounded by soft edges. I like this.One of the words translated as kindness in the Bible, was used of winethat mellowed with age to the point where its acidic bite had dissipated, andwhat you were left with was a smooth cabernet.That’s the picture God wants us to have of kindness- a firm core thatdoesn’t shy from the truth, with soft edges.
There’s another differencebetween kindness and niceness, though.Often times people are nice for transactional purposes. You know, a kind of quid pro quo ethic. I do something nice for you in the hopesyou’ll return the favor. Servers in thefood industry are confronted with this every working day. Be nice and get a nice tip. Be really nice, and get an even bettertip. I’m not placing any moral value onthis, I’m just holding up a warning sign.The moment our niceness crosses over into a sort of utilitarianism wherepeople become objects for our advancement, we are a step or two frommeanness. So what happens when theserver or barista doesn’t perform to my liking?I can tell you first hand what happens.
Several years ago I sat down tobreakfast with my son at a local diner.When the server first came to our table I knew something was wrong. She had anything but soft edges. This woman had “don’t mess with me,” writtenall over her face. Words like, rude, short and abrasive cameto mind. As if this wasn’t enough, shemessed up our order, and offered a meager, disingenuous apology. I was heated.Didn’t she know she existed to make my day better? So I left the gratuity section of the billblank, yanked my son out of the diner and headed off. Then the Holy Spirit began speaking to me,showing me how my utilitarian outlook on her had set the stage for meresponding to her meanness with an extra helping. I made a pit stop at the bank, pulled outsome cash, then headed back to the diner.When I finally got to speak to her, in vintage cabernet tones I told herthat while I felt she could have done better, my response was unkind. I asked her for forgiveness then gave her themoney. Then she surprised me. A tear trickled down her once hardenedface. For the next several moments sheunloaded, telling me about the divorce she’s going through, the tough financialtimes and the difficulty she’s having with one of her kids. Sure, while kindness had broken her, I foundher response to my kindness elevating my vision of her. She was no longer a nameless server whoexisted for my convenience, but a real person with a story. I guess kindness got to both of us.
David’s motivation to showkindness to what would ultimately be Mephibosheth, had nothing to do withMephibosheth. Look at verse one again,“…for Jonathan’s sake”. David’s kindness to Mephibosheth had nothing to do withhis ability to perform, or a hope David would get it back some day, no, that’sa utilitarian, quid pro quo niceness.There was a higher moral vision at play.David had entered into covenant with Jonathan, Mephibosheth’s father,and it was that covenant, not Mephibosheth’s performance, that stimulatedDavid’s kindness. In fact, Mephiboshethhad no ability to ever return it back to David.Several times the text mentions he was crippled, literally unable toperform.
I hope you see what’s going onhere. In case you missed it, we are allMephibosheth, enemies of God from another domain, crippled in our ability tomeet His standard for us. But God-symbolized by David- shows us a performance-free kindness, saving us by hisgrace. Thank God he doesn’t see me witha utilitarian niceness, but with a vintage kindness.
This is a helpful word for meas we embark on the political season, and with all of the racial turmoil in ourcountry. We need a vintage kindness aswe prepare to go into the voting booth, one that has a firm core, with smoothedges. As we process Sandra Bland, andany other future instances of what appears like police brutality, I’m remindedas a minority to be kind, to stand up for justice, but to do so with open arms,willing to embrace the other. And livingin the digital age, we don’t need another instance of what one New York Timeswriter calls, “outrage porn,” where we go bazerk on someone’s Facebook page,Twitter account, or in the comments section of a blog. Let’s be kind, not nice. If we Christians have any hopes of restoringour influence and unmuting our voice in the public square, it can only happenwhen we take on a vintage kindness.
Margin
Dr. Richard Swenson has defined margin as the space between our loads and our limits. Overload tends to happen when we exceed our limits, or as one of my southern mentors says, “When we out-punt our coverage”. I think I know what he means. Naturally, God wants us to experience margin, not overload. In fact, the more I study the Scriptures and navigate life, the more I believe He has intentionally designed the Christian journey so that it’s impossible to thrive without margin.
The only way we can be financially generous is if we have margin. My neighbors will only be loved by me in ways they can feel if I have margin with my time. Jesus models this. Have you ever thought about the amount of ministry Jesus does that was never scheduled in advance? He gets finished preaching the Sermon on the Mount when a leper shows up needing help. Or he’s on his way to the home of a synagogue leader, when a woman touches the hem of his garment. In both of these instances and more we don’t meet an inconvenienced or harried Jesus, instead we see a compassionate and caring one. Jesus had margin (As a preacher I’ve always wanted to teach a series of sermons on these unscheduled encounters. I think I would call it, “The Ministry of Interruptions.”).
Margin is that vintage car, or the aging wine who becomes more precious with time, and needs to be carefully and vigorously protected, even to the disappointment of others. No, I’m not advocating laziness. As Kevin DeYoung puts it in his book, Crazy Busy, God expects us to be, well, busy. Yet within the busy-ness there needs to be margin.
Mark 1 beautifully teaches this. Verse twenty-one begins the first day of Jesus’ ministry, where he walks into a synagogue and astonishes the crowd with his preaching. No sooner does the sermon end that a demon oppressed man is brought to him and he heals him. Immediately- a favorite word of Mark’s- Jesus heads over to Peter’s house where his mother-in-law is sick with a fever. Having just quit the family business, I’m sure Peter is wanting Jesus to work his “magic,” thus putting his in-laws at ease he had made the right decision in giving up his paycheck. Sure enough, Jesus heals her, and at the end of the day Mark says the whole city comes out to Jesus bringing all who were sick and afflicted, while Jesus heals many.
Talk about a terrific start to ministry. Who wouldn’t kill for this? With all this momentum the average leader would strategize on how to make the most of it. Maybe do multiple services the next week while we start a building campaign. But not Jesus. Instead, the next morning, while it is still dark, he slips out of the bed and goes to a desolate place to pray, telling no one as to his whereabouts. Even more astounding, is when Peter catches up to him and suggests he go back, Jesus responds by saying they are leaving to go to the next place.
Progress and notoriety is not the friend of margin, many times it’s the foe. The bigger things become, the more requests roll in, the more opportunities that are presented, you and I will find ourselves easily venturing from margin to overload. We’ll “out-punt our coverage”. Jesus in his humanity, submitted to certain limits, and so should we. When all the sick were brought to him, Jesus chose to just heal the many, and not the all, which meant some heard him say “no”. When the widows needed to be cared for in Acts 6, the apostles said choose seven men to minister to them, we can, but we won’t.
No sounds harsh and uncaring doesn’t it? Actually, no is the kindest and most compassionate thing you can say. No really is the most liberating word in the English language. Learn to say the word. Go to war with the people pleaser in you, or your drive to have or do more. Figure out your priorities- relationship with God, family, work, etc- come up with a plan to ensure you’re allocating your time to what matters most. Stay attune to your rhythms. What seasons do you find yourself venturing over the edge of your limits? Scale back.
Touching
My experience in multiethnic churches has lead to this grand conclusion: Something essential is missing in my life when I only do life with people like me. With the absence of what Volf calls “the other,” I am incredibly incomplete.
I’ve always maintained the deep conviction that healthy multiethnic movements can only happen when there is a diverse cohort of leaders at the highest levels of the organization. Nothing new here. But this statement is rather ambiguous, requiring a bit of unpacking. I know of several churches trending into multi ethnicity among their leadership teams, yet are feeling frustrated that this is not being experienced at the congregational level. While there can be many factors contributing to sustained homogeneity, I want the focus of this post to clarify what I mean by diversity at the highest levels.
Simply put, just getting diverse people around a table together is not enough. I mean, each night when I sit down to dinner there’s diversity on my plate, but call it a touch of OCD, I don’t want these items touching. They’re in the same place, but my macaroni and cheese has no real community with the green beans. In similar ways you can have a diverse table without true community, and if the latter is missing, don’t be surprised if your constituency fails to truly embrace one another in Christ-exalting diversity. They are, after all, following our lead.
Healthy movements are the product of healthy teams (certainly not perfect teams), who experience high touch with each other. Think of the example of Jesus and his disciples. There’s diversity. It doesn’t get any more diverse than a tax collector (Matthew), and a Zealot (Simon). Yet in spite of such book end differences, Jesus prays for more than a sense of touch among his team, but a profound intertwining of lives (John 17), tethered together by the bond of love (John 13).To begin this process they shared meals together, walked through grain fields together and stared death in the face together.
But why is this important, this sense of community, especially at the “executive leadership team” level? Miroslav Volf speaks to this in his book, Exclusion and Embrace:
“I am who I am in relation to the other; to be Croat is, among other things, to have Serbs as neighbors; to be white in the U.S. is to enter a whole history of relation to African Americans. Hence the will to be oneself, if it is to be healthy, must entail the will to let the other inhabit the self; the other must be part of who I am as I will to be myself.”
My experience in multiethnic churches has lead to this grand conclusion: Something essential is missing in my life when I only do life with people like me. With the absence of what Volf calls “the other,” I am incredibly incomplete.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer understood this. His frustrated attempts at finding a white, Bible teaching church in New York City, lead him to “the other,”- Abyssinian Baptist in Harlem, a black church. There this white, blond headed man, immersed himself into the narratives and experiences of “the other”. Specifically, he befriended a black man named Albert Fisher (who he actually met at seminary). This relationship between a white German man and an Alabama born black man would change Bonhoeffer’s life, as he began to submit his worldview and biases to Fisher, a glorious exchange took place, that would ultimately lead to Bonhoeffer’s deep seeded commitment to see the gospel in all of its social implications applied to his home country of Germany. Were it not for this exchange with “the other,” I’m not so sure “The Cost of Discipleship,” would have had the potency it did, or that Bonhoeffer would have even returned to Germany. In short, Bonhoeffer’s life was broadened, and the Imago Dei further illumined because of his experience with “the other”.
What does this mean for our teams? Truly embracing “the other,” as Volf argues in his volume, begins with the realization that a lot of how I perceive truth has been shaped profoundly by my experiences, or lack thereof. Our worldview, and perception of truth, in many regards, has been held captive by our culture. Objectivity is an endangered species for all of us. There’s a necessary humility in recognizing and listening to other opinions and perspectives, to even allow ourselves to be shaped by them. My perception of law enforcement could be wrong. My view on such combustible topics like gender identity, role of government, race, etc, is probably flawed due to a warped formulation of my narrow experiences and upbringing. As Jack Deere put it in his book, Surprised by the Spirit, charismatics tend to fall victim to their experience, while conservatives to their lack of experience. While this statement was directed at a specific theological topic, I find it good medicine in general. None of us are completely objective, and certainly not omniscient. We need to humbly submit to one another (Ephesians 5:21), and give ear to one another.
Clothed in humility, the next domino to fall now becomes the abdication of fear in talking about tough subjects. Our silence is replaced by a courageously inquisitive dialog, because we have the humility to at least admit we could be wrong. After a particularly spirited message that I gave, one of the white leaders on our team mustered the courage to ask about the role of emotions in preaching. This lead to a wonderful exchange as we ventured down roads of traditional African American preaching, to the Greek model of rhetoric (logos, ethos and pathos), and my question as it relates to why his preaching seemed to be devoid of what the Greeks called “pathos”? Through our exchange we talked about the importance of conviction in preaching, and the people needing to feel as if we actually believed what we were talking about. Years later he wrote me a letter saying he became a better preacher because of that conversation. Humbly, and courageous exchanging with “the other,” made us both better.
Let me end with this somber note. It was sociologist Michael Emerson who argued that homogenous churches actually become allies to racism. How so? When the church is filled with people of the same race, in general there’s the collection of similar world views. In the absence of “the other,” there tends to be a gravitational pull towards a specific political party, theological hermeneutic and cultural narrative (among others) that can quickly become arrogantly imperialistic, and oppressive.
An example of this is the wholesale condemnation by our white evangelical friends of what they would call “prosperity theology,” a type of theology that is seen predominately among minorities and the poor. Before I show you the imperialism among my white evangelical friends, permit me to make two disclaimers. One, prosperity theology is a problem. Whenever I minimize God to equation theology: Good over here = Good over here; Bad over here = Bad over here, I have just succumb to the essence of prosperity theology. However, this equation theology is not just seen in the poor, minority people “over there,” but it’s a universal proclivity we all experience. Issues of theodicy points to this. Are we not all thrown by the age old question of, “Why do bad things happen to ‘good’ people”? The equation just doesn’t add up.
The second disclaimer I need to make is that to preach of a God who blesses his people materially is not prosperity theology (when blessings become the motive, then that is). God does bless us with homes, cars, jobs, etc. But what tends to happen is when you get a certain group of people who have historically always had the material blessings, they now are afforded the opportunity to preach a neo-Gnostic gospel that emphasizes the spiritual, with no real thought to the material. At the same time they now rail against any group that tends to preach a more holistic gospel that touches soul and body, deriding them as heretics, and having bad theology. This is theological imperialism that grows in homogenous environments.
Furthermore, this worldview diminishes the cultural worldview of others. African American’s, for example, are an honor culture. While honor can slip over into idolization, honor is a good thing, a biblical thing. Historically, we show honor to our pastor by the giving of such material things as money and/or cars. Over the years I’ve had so many of our white brothers and sisters readily dismiss this, with no real substantive theological footing. At its core, they were able to be so dismissive because they grew up in culturally imperialistic churches, where devoid of the other, they established and clung to cultural defaults as if it was gospel truth.
The way out of this requires a certain humble, courageous civility in which divergent groups are placed together and allowed to dialog about these issues under the banner of the local church. The way to eradicate such theological imperialism is the multiethnic church, comprised of diverse teams who boldly enter into life with one another.
Diagnosing Ethnic Fever
I was in Los Angeles not too long ago, about to step into some meetings when a young brother stopped me. Slightly out of breath, he had taken time off of work in the unscheduled hope of trying to get a word with me. His harried demeanor betrayed a sense of urgency. We didn’t spend too long together, but those few minutes we shared in the hallway gripped my heart. He said nothing new, just a heartfelt rant of how lonely life had become as one of a handful of minorities in a primarily white evangelical environment. His thoughts were both convoluted and clear. This depleted sojourner just needed some encouragement from an older traveler who was many miles ahead. He was tired and worn out.
I guess what grabbed me was this young brother was the latest to make a similar plea to me in the last week. There was the black man who wrote me a note asking that I “talk him off the ledge,” as he was on the precipice of quitting his job at a white non-profit. Another wrote of the resistance he was receiving from members of the church he served over a social media post he wrote concerning Baltimore. Fresh in my own mind was a white woman’s comments that Baltimore was the result of liberal agitation. She felt comfortable making this statement because I was the only African American in a setting in which evangelical had come to mean white, republican and conservative in all of its facets.
Often in situations like these, a line from Marvin Gaye’s classic, Inner City Blues, comes to mind, “makes me want to holler”.
We’ve got to do better.
There’s a low grade fever running among many of our minority brothers and sisters working in white evangelical environments, and their fever is a result of varying factors that have left them vulnerable and exposed. I cal this fever “low grade” because they can still function, yet if left undiagnosed and untreated, this ethnic fever will only escalate into a toxic sickness. If we want to treat their condition, I find it helpful to look at the factors contributing to their ailment.
Silence. When events like Baltimore, Eric Garner or Ferguson happen, many of our white evangelical friends are slow at best to step into the conversation. Need I remind us of what one of the great white evangelical giants of recent years, Chuck Colson, said, “The duty of the Christian is to read the Bible in one hand, with a newspaper in the other.” This is sound advice. Christians must be able to exegete the Scriptures and society, showing how the Bible comes to bear on the events of our world…all of them. A failure to not preach, discuss and disciple our people in what some have called, “thinking Christianly” on all matters of culture is poor discipleship. Even more devastating, the silence of our white brothers and sisters can be easily interpreted as apathy, making the conditions ripe for an ethnic fever.
Disrespecting President Obama. I was in a meeting once, where I happened to be, yet again, the only African American in the room. The discussion turned to President Barack Obama, and how awful of a job he was doing, and was met by applause and amens. I couldn’t resist. Raising my hand, I announced that while I didn’t agree with all of the president’s policies and decisions, it’s important for my friends in the room to realize I don’t believe what they believe politically.
Along with this, I found their reference to our president as crossing the line from critique to disrespect. The devastating effects of slavery was it’s pillaging of every article of dignity among my people. Since our first days here we’ve been groping for dignity. That’s why some of us will have a hundred dollars to our name and spend it all on a pair of sneakers- we’re on a quest for dignity. The pride black people feel over Obama is rooted in our quest for dignity. What I’m appealing to here is not an evangelical silence on our president. Oh no, he is not above scrutiny. Even our own Cornel West has been deafening in his critique of the president. Instead, he needs to be critiqued with a Christian civility wrapped in the ethic of love. In his almost eight years in office I’m scrambling to try to remember a single occasion when I heard white evangelical’s refer to him sincerely as “our president”.
Third, a liberation of the term evangelical. Evangelical has been etymologically hijacked to mean white, conservative, middle to upper middle class, theologically narrow and Republican. Evangelical, instead, should be taken back to her roots, which comes from the Greek word for gospel, implying adherence to the essentials of the faith. Liberating evangelical from her modern captivity now allows room for democrats and republicans, charismatics and cessationist’s to come to the table (among other groups). When our white brothers and sisters use evangelical as synonymous with Fox News, it dismisses and diminishes other groups, particularly minorities, and contributes once again to the fever.
What this liberation results in is an abdication of silly assumptions, along with the freedom to disagree on important yet unessential matters while still being united by the bond of love for one another. So I can now preach a gospel (an evangelical) that rises above a political party, social class or theological camp, because the kingdom of God cannot be monopolized by republicans or democrats, rich or poor, Fox News or MSNBC, black or white. Broaden evangelical by returning her to her origins and you now leave plenty of room at the table for various groups, and the incarnation of Ephesians 2 in all of its glorious dimensions.
Bricks without straw. A fourth cause of ethnic fever I’ve seen over the years is hiring minorities in the hopes of diversifying a white evangelical institution without giving them the corresponding power and authority. Not letting them lead at the highest levels, preach or have a weighty voice around the decision making table, is all akin to Pharaoh’s edict for the Jews to make bricks without straw. This is both organizationally naive and ethnically deflating.
Anonymity. A fifth, but most certainly not final, cause of the fever is anonymity. What I mean by this is doing little or nothing to acknowledge or show you are concerned about different ethnicity’s through your ministries or programs. In almost everything I’ve written I have appealed to Ralph Ellison’s classic, “Invisible Man,” where the lead character, an African American, has no name. Ellison’s choice to leave the protagonist nameless is a masterful stroke emphasizing the inhumanity of anonymity. Every time minorities take part in an organization that does little to nothing to acknowledge them, we incarnate Ellison’s “Invisible Man,” and the fever spikes.
I’ve seen white evangelicals take significant strides along these lines to say in so many words, “you matter.” These small steps are paradoxically huge and put wind in our sails. I encourage you to join in by stewarding your power well.
On Residencies
By far the most rewarding thing about my time at Fellowship Memphis was the residency program. By far. The time spent with these young twenty something’s in airports, over meals and in our preaching cohort brought me infinitely times more satisfaction than any sermon I preached. Their continued calls and opening queries like, “Now how would you,” brings me great joy.
I’m also encouraged to see a movement of churches wanting to develop their own residency programs, and invest in the next generation of leaders. Whatever label we put to these programs- residencies, internships, apprenticeships- it’s really the great commission, and Jesus has to be pleased. For all that is wrong with the church today, the growing tide of these minor league farm systems is a ray of sunshine on otherwise cloudy days.
But I’m a little concerned that I, along with a host of other well meaning pastors, maybe serving as accomplices to a crime. I’m having more and more exit conversations with guys in their mid twenties who’ve graduated from our program, and want some coaching on how to look for and land a job. The deeper we get into conversation the more I realize these men are not only looking for the perfect job, but have an overly inflated view of what they bring to the table. As one young man said to me, “If I’m not teaching at least half the time, and serving at the highest levels of the church, I just don’t think that’s the best stewardship of me.” Really? Exactly who are you? Let me get this straight: You’ve spent the last few years coasting off the sweat equity and leadership capital of others. You’re still very green in your preaching gifts, where for the most part every, “That was a good sermon,” by a congregational member should’ve been followed by, “…for a resident.” And your last entry in the notes section in your EverNote app on how to plant or lead a church was dated two weeks ago. And you need to be teaching a lot and leading at the highest levels? Now this young man’s example maybe a bit extreme, but in general I am finding a low grade entitlement simmering among more and more residents.
My passion for a residency program stems from my own experience. I served for three years under Bishop Kenneth Ulmer in Inglewood, California. I did everything from wash his car, pick up his clothes from the cleaners, shuttle visiting preachers back and forth from the airport and serve as his assistant on trips. Working for a bishop was one of the most redemptive things in my development. How can I say this? There’s no egalitarian view of leadership and authority in the traditional African American church, and for a twenty-something emerging leader and preacher, this was priceless.
One of the worst things that could happen to any leader is to give them too much too soon. Every leader I admire has spent a prolonged season in the wilderness of ambiguity. Joseph spent years in obscurity where he was mistreated and neglected. God didn’t just anoint David on a Wednesday and allow him to assume the throne that Thursday. No, David waited fifteen years, hiding out in caves and on the run, fearing at times for his life. Even Paul spent years in obscurity. On and on we can go.
We shouldn’t be thrilled to land a resident in our program as if they are some great commodity who will bring instantaneous value to our church. They need to be ecstatic to serve with us. And in hindsight I’m realizing that one of the most damaging things you can do to a young woman or man’s development is to give them too much exposure. Let them spend a prolonged season setting up and tearing down for service. Have them run copies, hand out worship guides and fill communion cups. A few decades later, after they figure out exactly who they are, they’ll thank you.
This summer I was at the Global Leadership Summit where I heard Patrick Lencioni speak on servant-leadership. Mid message he paused and said, “We need to stop using the phrase ‘servant-leadership’, as if there’s any other kind”. That’s what we’re looking to produce- people who lead from the posture of service, not men and women who think they need to be leading at the highest levels while the ink hadn’t dried on their degree. Let’s be sure to build into our residency programs not only opportunities for emerging leaders to hone their craft, but to serve.
Reflections on our Time in the Middle East
Korie and I had the honor ofspending this past week in the Middle East where I was invited to preachseveral times at a church and then a conference. The church where I shared was the largestevangelical church in the area, a truly multi-ethnic and multi-class churchthat warmed our hearts. In reflecting onmy time of ministry there, several things come to mind:
The sobering effect ofinconvenience. The church where Iserved is not in a region of persecution…yet.However, their nation has sent a resounding message that they considerthe church of Jesus Christ to be a nuisance.It’s almost impossible to purchase land as a church. And right before I got up to preach (whereservices were held at a hotel) I was told that Muslim informers would be in theaudience. These words sobered me in away that I’ve never been before.
A looming persecution. While Christians have not been killed in thisregion, their close proximity to recent acts of violence against believersadded a weight and seriousness to the current events. As the pastor of the church got up to prayfor those twenty-one Christians who went proclaiming Jesus to their deaths, Ifelt an intensity in the room that could only be blamed on our nearness to theatrocity. In the states we are moved bysuch violence, but like reading about American slavery, one is only grieved toa certain point, whose emotions are held at bay by the boundary ofdistance.
A Universal Gospel. God was with me in the preaching moment. Many hands went up in response to the gospel. As I talked with these tear stained individualsat the end of the services I was struck by how universal the gospel actuallyis. I spent time listening to salvationstories from Australians, Iranians, Jordanians, South Africans and many more. Some had been shunned by their familiesbecause of their decision to follow Jesus.Others were still calculating the risk involved, weighing whether or notto yield their lives to Christ and chance everything. My prayers go with them.
Jesus taught us to pray, “Yourkingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” I feel beyond privileged to have played asmall role in the coming of God’s kingdom in this section of his vineyard.