Africa Journal #6 "offering"

Africa Journal #6

Sometimes I can’t see people for fear I’ll fall apart. The other day a man came to the window of my taxi/van and looked at me straight in the eyes and asked me for money. “Please”, he said. He asked for a trivial amount of money. The exchange rate here is some 2300 shillings to $1 USD. I don’t remember the amount, but I remember not having change and that being what I thought of first. I guess I could have given him 10,000, but somehow that felt hard, or “enabling”, or whatever else self-justifying reason I need. Change is the bane of using money here. Without a doubt this is a rich-American problem, but the ATM dispenses barely usable 50,000 shilling notes. Those are effectively worthless because the average boda boda, vendor, taxi conductor, whatever will have maybe 8,000 shillings, $3-ish, on them. As much as I hate to admit this, it is one of my biggest pet peeves in an effectively cash-only society. And yet what I am so annoyed by, ultimately, is poverty—something I personally know almost nothing about. Relative to my society’s standards I may have at least a conceptual understanding, and I have studied it more than most, but I know not an iota about the poverty the man in the window asking me for 75 cents knows about.

He extends his hand into the beat-up, anonymous Toyota Hiace to the mzungu who he knows has money. He is desperately poor and it would be foolish to not ask for money. Any of us would. His glazed-over eyes from a disease long since victorious against his immune system cannot so mask his humanity that I escape unharmed. I am always harmed. I am harmed because I, like most Americans, refuse to give him my money; money I did not earn, money I myself had asked for from others. What a detestable creature we have the potential to be. I ask you to please not protest, telling me “but your ministry is elsewhere, with those young boys, use the money for that!” This man is what those boys on the street, that minority who live to be in their 30’s, eventually become. No, this man is my ministry too. Sure the context was not opportune given that I was on a taxi to head to Kalule and I was with another and we had somewhere to be, but just because I would prefer a different context for meeting such a man it justifies my failure to temporarily meet his need? Did I really worry that he might buy banana beer with it? What was I concerned about? The faceless 13-or-so others in the taxi who do not know me, do not speak my language, or have what I have? Am I afraid that they will judge me, fit me into a stereotype? Is it that I have two false choices, one to be the greedy Westerner who hoards his money and the other to be a foolish Westerner who has come to the developing world with a naïve compassion so he can feel better about himself by letting others take minutely of his opulence? But in the back of my mind I am mindful of perceptions because as a white person on public transportation you’re a spectacle in this nearly homogonous (by U.S. standards) society. But do I really give a damn what they think? Doubtful. Am I even correct in what they may think? Also doubtful.

Poverty for me often causes patent self-obsession and self-awareness. It has to. Because as I walk down the street even my small backpack and its contents are worth more, materially, than most of what the average person in Uganda has. All around me are the people who daily face decisions I don’t face. What is more, is that behind those people, the not-quite-extremely poor if you will, are the widow and orphan and prostituted girl and person without legs—those in which poverty is not merely an inconvenience or a dream delayed, but a vicious, life-taking beast. In truth often times I wish I did not see them but I do see them. I see them because my heart leaps in my chest because I cannot, simply cannot, fit them into my reality. The overwhelming injustice tears at my understanding of reality and causes my paradigmatic mind to collapse again and again and I want to weep because though I’ve seen it all before, and as much as I try to not see, I still do.

If you’ve ever read a blog by a sojourner spending time in the developing world these observations eventually come to light. You eventually realize that your action or inaction is both powerful and woefully, infinitesimally small. That is because we naturally throw the one in with the whole. This is our fatal mistake, the default, and safe position of the heart. It says, “I cannot affect all so I conserve resources for more effective endeavors.” It is logic, pure and simple. It may even be reason. But I am not a whole, but a part. I believe this because I can be saved from myself and because of my own complicated “free will” (please, no tired reformed/Arminian theological debates), therefore making the individual something holy that God both recognizes/knows and offers agency. Because of that agency and singularity I “exist” and I can do both what is right and what is wrong. “The whole” is a construction whose only validity is found in Christ’s bride, the Church. That’s it. There is no other whole. As an individual and as a part of this holy mysterious whole, the Church, I am to see others as not manifestations of some whole that cannot be affected, but as a soul—a person with a context and will, a person with needs and dreams, a person I am infinitely responsible to. This person is the person who reached into my taxi window and asked for 75 cents. This is the person who got nothing from me but a pained look of guilt—which cannot produce love—and a slight shake of the head.

Yesterday I was in Kampala and I sat down with a man who is crippled and lives on the street off of charity and alms (I assume). His name was Francis. I wish I could have spoken to him more, but we eventually succumbed to the awkwardness of not sharing a common language. Yet the brief time with him was rich. His smile was infectious and I wondered, almost aloud, whether my life and faith could survive his socially and economically debilitating infirmity. He literally drags his lower torso and ineffectual legs on the ground, after all. I do not have the answer for myself, but I can say that I have rarely seen more joy than in the people who have the least. It is a categorical shift in perspective; I often wonder if a person growing up in affluence, such as myself, can ever achieve such blissful release. I have prayed for it, although halfheartedly. I am not glorifying pain and poverty, but if Christ is with the downtrodden, the outcast, and the poor in Spirit then surely He is somehow easier to find in the people Christ would have been with in the first place. I am forever wrestling with the reality that Christ spent his time with “sinners and prostitutes”. Do we do that? Do we know how? In truth it was a joy to be around Francis, for this man is a man like me. He has wants and dreams and though I do not know his and he does not know mine, we are not necessarily so different. He cannot exist as a spectacle to me, someone to merely muse on, but he must be a person to me; he must be someone to hope the best for, pray for, and love. Of course there are hundreds like him on the street. Most I will never meet, but hopefully in those brief moments in which an arm reaches for them they know that they are loved. I would not go so far as to say I “pointed him to Yesu”—the Luganda word for Jesus—but I hope that God can use my weakness and inability, and yes, “my” money to somehow bless this man.

Musing on such things is always a risk because at the end it always feels sentimental because in reality most of what I have cannot be simply given away. It is my experiences, beliefs, struggles, knowledge, and relationships that most shape who I am and what advantages, however meager, I may have in this life. My poverty then is of a different substance than this man’s but we are both poor. His material and opportunal poverty is the most striking and obvious, but poverty is fundamentally about relationship. I cannot speak to his relational poverty. I know that in a way this is where I am both most rich and most poor in my own life. It would take a long time and a new language to impart on others what I am trying to say, so I will not attempt. Perhaps only a person like myself could be so privileged to even think as I do, considering the language that I use to describe what I observe as if a scientist and not an agent in this world; perhaps he’s never had the opportunity, despite entire days spent as an unspoken to, invisible human, to consider the quandary that I perpetually consider. Perhaps he knows things and does not simultaneously doubt them. Perhaps he knows so much more about life, death, and truth than I. That I can believe.

Thanks for listening,

Dan

My July 5th Sermon at Whitton: "If/Then"

Friends, here is the rough text of a sermon I gave at my church, Whitton Ave Bible Church on Isaiah 58. Enjoy.

—

Thank you for being here at Whitton Avenue Bible Church this fine June morning. My name is Dan Hoffman and I have the distinct honor of sharing with you what God has put on my heart concerning the next chapter of our series on Isaiah, Chapter 58.

As I was reading through this chapter I couldn’t help but think back to a math class I had in college. Now, those who know me well are probably thinking, “Dan hates math, how could this possibly be a good thing?” Well, rest assured my friends. There was one thing in math that didn’t frustrate me to the nth degree and those things were the “if/then” statements in logic. I loved those. What is better is that they are appropriately called “Truth Functions”. Well, as I was reading Isaiah 58 these past few weeks I couldn’t help but recognize that in a sense God has a truth function for us to wrestle with today that will help us understand a truth about him, namely an important aspect of his character. This is a theme of the text, and it can be summed up like this: That IF we do justice THEN God will shine His light through our lives.

Ok, so throughout Isaiah we have seen the burgeoning call to “do justice” given by God through this firebrand prophet loudly proclaiming the reign of God across Israel and the whole world. As we have seen, God uses no uncertain terms as he addresses his people about what he expects of them. So in this section of Isaiah—56 through the end—we learned that God is now describing to us what trust and faith in Him looks like in real life. Rest assured brothers and sisters, what Isaiah said so long ago is painfully applicable today.

One of the central questions that Chris has raised in the last few weeks has been, “Do I view my resources as gifts to be shared or as earnings to be hoarded?” Basically, is what God has given me God’s or is it mine? Is my money mine? Are my talents mine? Is my time mine? Are my rights mine? Does any of this belong to me? Chris also noted that it is sin, particularly idolatry, in the hearts of men that creates injustice because as our vertical relationship with God is marred by idolatry our horizontal relationship with others is marred by injustice and so Chris asked, “which path are you on: the path of justice or injustice?”

So I find myself well positioned to dive into Chapter 58, a chapter where God asks some more questions and continues to reveal his requirement for keeping justice and doing righteousness.

So with no further ado, let us pray and dive into God’s word today.

[pray]

[read text; get assistance]

What an incredible text. You see, these folks that God was talking about enjoyed every religious ritual. They were pious people. They looked good from the outside. They fasted and looked like they were enjoying God, but they were not. They focused on the things that would make them self-justified, and this is what they enjoyed. They did not care about the Sabbath in what it really was, a day consecrated to God. They were concerned with their own selfish gain and that is all… And yet they cry out to God: “Why have we fasted, and you see it not? Why have we humbled ourselves, and you take no knowledge of it?” What they are saying is, “Look at me, God! I am humble! I am fasting!” And instead of doing right, they thought “IF we do these religious rituals, if we fast, THEN God will hear us.”

But this fast, this faux-humility is displeasing to the Lord. Their piety did not produce a passion for what God was passionate about: justice and righteousness and mercy.

Does anyone hear Jesus here? Matthew 23:23 says this, "Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others.” Jesus is saying, “IF you understood the law, THEN you would have understood what it meant to do justice and mercy, and be faithful.”

So God’s people were in a sense tithing the finer things, yet neglecting the weightier matters of the law, a law God gave them because He loved them and because of His grace towards them. He didn’t have to give them the law; He could have let them remained under Pharaoh’s oppressive hand, but He chose to free them, give them the law, and in so doing, set them apart.

So in Isaiah 58 God comes against their self-righteousness because he is just. He says in v. 6,7, “Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share the your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?”

He could just as easily be saying, “IF you delight in me and my ways, THEN you will free the slave, share what you own, feed the hungry, advocate for the oppressed, offer the prostituted girl a way out the life, and love and not abuse your family.”

God is saying that his justice is both relational and social! He is saying that right living—What is acceptable—means doing what is right to all you come in contact with and all you have some power over! Do we appreciate the language here? The word for oppressed means literally to “crush”; in Judges it means the breaking of the skull. It conveys imagery of the powerless being utterly dominated. And yet our God of mercy associates himself with these broken, abused people. These “oppressed” in Isaiah 6 are sandwiched between these statements: undo the straps of the yoke and break every yoke. We are to undo those straps and then destroy the yoke so it may terrify, and enslave no more. This is what is required of us. This is a fast acceptable to the Lord.

Did you hear it?

IF we:

· Loose the bonds of wickedness

· Let the oppressed go free

· Break every yoke

· Share our bread with the hungry

· Bring the homeless into our houses (use princess lost example)

· Cover the naked

· Stop pointing fingers

· Stop speaking wickedness

· Pour ourselves out for the hungry

· Satisfy the desire of the afflicted

THEN:

· Our light will break forth like the dawn

· Our healing will spring up rapidly

· Our righteousness will “go before” us

· God’s glory will be our rear guard

· Our cries to the Lord will be heard and he will say, “Here I am.”

· Our light will rise from the darkness

· The Lord will guide us continually

· The Lord will satisfy our desires in scorched places

· The Lord will make our bones strong

This is God’s version of a truth function. The “If” and the “Then” have an extremely strong relationship. They are bound together. They are bound together because God is just and he desires for us to do justice. He is saying, IF we do justice THEN God will shine His light through our lives.

God is using no uncertain terms here. He is saying that by the very nature of breaking the yoke and freeing the oppressed something very profound will occur in the Kingdom. He is saying our light will “break forth”. This statement, “break forth” is not some benign “exposure” or “revealing.” It means to tear, rend, and burst. Its connotation gives off the idea that something is being held back that is under pressure. Imagine a dam collapsing and the waters filling the land. This is for us, Whitton Avenue. IF we break every yoke and advocate for the oppressed, THEN our witness, our light, will burst forth. Our healing will come quickly as we grow deep in communion with Him. And our God will also say, “here I am”, revealing himself to us.

A few years ago I had the opportunity to go to Congo with Mending the Soul. As many of you know the Democratic Republic of Congo is the rape capitol of the world and a place where over 5 million people have perished due to war-related deaths in the past decade or so. It is a place rife with injustice of every kind. Yet at the Christian university in Beni, where we at, justice work is being done. The Christians there, the church is engaging society and proclaiming the gospel to all. And justice is being done. Women are being freed from prostitution, men are repenting of their violence, women are being healed of their wounds, and pastors proclaiming boldly the reign of Christ in a land wrought with evil. And the story of each is a miracle. God is saying, “here I am” in the Congo as His church is doing justice and proclaiming the gospel in all its glory. IF we follow God in his commands, THEN God will say, “here I am”. IF we do justice THEN God will shine His light through our lives.

But what is this justice thing, really? I’m sure we’d all define it differently. But to God’s people Justice was essentially theological; it was not rooted in Greco-Roman thought or concepts of the rights of man, reason, etc; that came along later. This is important for us to note because we live in an era when all our political factions claim to champion justice and yet all fall utterly short of God’s radical and comprehensive vision for Kingdom-building justice.

To the God’s people the following was true:

· Justice is rooted in the character of God

· Justice flowed from his actions in history (justice is active)

· Justice was demanded by his covenant relationship with Israel

· Justice would ultimately be established on earth by God’s sovereign power

· Justice is universal, God’s love and justice are for all

This is vitally important to understand as we try to recapture our vision of justice from the enlightenment. As scholars note, this God-centered understanding of justice is borne out in the whole of scripture, especially the Old Testament. We see this when Abraham interceded for Sodom and Gomorrah asking God to spare the righteous because he knew that God was inherently, innately just and that for God to not do justice was contrary to His character. Furthermore, God’s concern for the suffering and the oppressed triggered God’s action on behalf of the Israelites. He saw, heard, cared, and went. God worked for the oppressed and against the oppressor. He had a side. And because the Israelites had experienced justice they were to do justice. Do you see how justice is active? God didn’t just talk to the Israelites in the plight in Egypt—He intervened! His justice was active and fully an extension of His character.

IF we can reengage God as a God of justice, THEN we will be able to view justice, as He desires us to view it…

Application:

Now! I’ve been asked to speak not because I can exposit well or because I’m a biblical scholar or because I’m a particularly good preacher. I can assure that I’m not. I’ve been asked to speak because this integral part of the gospel, this justice I am excited to share with you today, has utterly changed me… Or that’s what I’d like you to believe at least.

Now we’re going to go in a slightly different direction. You may call it a tangent; I’ll likely refer to it as “an opportunity to come full circle.” This is, in a way, the “application” part of the sermon, but truth be told, this sermon is only part sermon. It is also part prayer, part plea, and part confession.

A couple days ago Jakob asked me a question that spoke right to my heart. He asked, “Where is grace in this text?” To be completely honest, as I’ve been writing this sermon I’ve been wrestling we complex and painful feelings of shame and guilt. I saw my own inadequacy and was asking myself what Jakob had asked me, “Where is the grace in this text?”

How could I stand before fellow sinners and talk about God’s justice without realizing the own injustice of my ways? The reality is that I need grace to be in this text. It’s so hard to read this book, this Bible here, and not be refined, not be challenged, and not be moved. But it moves me, and I don’t always like where it tells me to go. It tells me that I must remove the plank from my eye before I can go after the speck in someone else’s.

So here is part of my plank: As I’ve been reading Isaiah 58, I feel a peculiar sense of familiarity with the dangerous false piety Isaiah is addressing in God’s people. I love justice, the experiences I’ve had and God’s call on my life have deeply impacted me to want to champion justice—and this is a good thing. But you see, I always have an agenda. I want you to believe what I believe because I want to be right and if not right, I want to be seen as right. Moreover, I want to be justified. I want to instruct others on the fallenness of their ways and feel unlike those other people. Part of what drives me to speak to others about justice is self-righteousness. I am equal parts passionate about justice and passionate about appearances.

Do I not, like the people being addressed in Isaiah 58, give off the air of religious piety and ritual in my life and yet neglect the needs of the most oppressed? What have I truly given up because of my incredible experience with God’s grace? Nothing really. I have still not oriented my life in a way that truly believes the gospel in its radical call to give all that I have—my time, my money, my connections, my resources, my gifts—to the poor, proclaiming the good news of a new Kingdom, a new economy, a new community, and a new King.

People will say, “But Dan, you serve the poor often.” It’s true, but how much of it is done for me? Plenty, if I’m honest. Some days I love well, and other days I do it because of guilt—not love. There is plenty of benefit in this world in doing right: people respect you, say good things about you, and speak highly of your humility and service. In the church we respect and honor religious piety, ritual, and action. But if you knew my heart you would hear the echo of Isaiah 58 where I ask God “why have I done these things and you’ve not seen it?” My appeal of good works are speaking for me, justifying myself before God when in all actuality he has seen my heart and nothing I do can justify me before Him. He asks the same thing of me that he is asking in Isaiah 58 to his people: “Do they truly delight in me and my precepts or are you doing what they are doing to look good in the my eyes?” Why do we fast? Why do we ask God for just decision when we still haven’t truly experienced the radical nature of the gospel? God sees our hearts, the ways we’ve forsaken justice, the ways we’ve hidden our sin or—worse yet—justified our sin with the veneer of righteousness.

Ultimately I had my own “Truth Statement” except mine was false. Mine was IF I do these good works, IF others believe my motives are pure, THEN God will accept and love me”

It is desperately important that we do not miss God’s call of justice and equally important that we do not miss His call to accept grace. So where is the grace in Isaiah 58? That is a great question. We were shown grace in the atoning sacrifice of Christ. It was unmerited and undeserved, but it was freely given. But what was the stipulation if there was one at all? IF we accept God’s grace and repent of our sins, THEN we will be saved. See Romans 10 if you have any questions. So is it so different here in Isaiah 58? IF, oh Israel, you seek justice and do what is right—if you REPENT—THEN I will be near, and I will hear your prayers, my Glory will shine through you. He is offering His people grace through the words of Isaiah. He didn’t have to give it to them. He didn’t have to give them the law and he didn’t have to offer them a chance to repent—but in His grace, He did. This is how it all comes together, brothers and sisters. God in his invitation into communion with him never meant for my life to look the same. It should be utterly transformed, should it not? Transformation starts with repentance.

So today I am repenting before you.

I have been silent as people who proclaim Christ dehumanize others

I have perpetuated idolatry and injustice with my lust of the flesh

I have hoarded my wealth with a litany of justifications

I have hoarded what was freely given to me yet never completely mine

I have looked spitefully at the weak

I have viewed the poor with contempt

I have been lazy when I have been afforded opportunities to enact change

I have spoken about justice, much more than I’ve done it

I have justified violence

I have consumed without conscience

I have subtly and unrepentantly enjoyed the privilege of being a White Male in America

I have believed, even if less so now than before, the great lie that is the American dream

Of these things, I repent. I repent in the context of community, this body of believers, the bride of Christ, who can hold me accountable and extend me more grace as is needed.

We start with repentance, brothers and sisters. We experience that sweet grace that reminds us of our position relative to God and we take a moment to revel in the scandal of it all. And then we go and do likewise. Remember, IF we do justice THEN God will shine His light through our lives.

So we go, seeking out the people and places where we can do justice. After all, God’s people are a people on the move. This world is defined by and engorged with evil and injustice. Recently a large group of migrants was executed by the cartel in northern Mexico not that far from here. Why? Because Satan is a liar and a murderer; because of injustice; because of a million reasons that should make the most hardy of us squirm. But the tragic murder of those Children of God isn’t the end of the story. When that news story broke you should have seen the comment section on the website (I won’t name names). One commenter said, “at least that is 60 less illegals coming across our border.” This, brothers and sisters, is the world we have been sent into to do justice; to speak truth to the fool who uttered those hateful, damning words; to speak truth to the systems of injustice that perpetuate the necessity of migration and the continued flourishing of the cartels. To humanize those who have been labeled. Jesus was sent to a world not so different than ours. IF we seek justice, THEN we will confront evil: Evil in humans and in complex human systems.

We will likely ask God, “How are we to be effective when the need is so great?!” I’m not a scholar, but I don’t remember the word “effective” being in the gospels. I do remember a word, faithfulness, however. Mother Teresa said, “We are called upon not to be effective, but to be faithful.” Amen. How often I’ve merely tried to be effective; how I’ve tried to think “correctly” about an issue so as to achieve the desired end. Most people would say that’s “wise”, yet I feel it to be foolishness. God didn’t call me to be effective. He called me to be faithful. Faithful to Christ.

And this brings us full circle into how we come to be people of justice, delighting in what God delights in.

This is our perspective: a discipleship rooted in faithfulness to Christ. And that, brothers and sisters, is where we find our example. Our example is Christ. We needn’t reconcile our ideological beliefs, for they must submit themselves to the Lordship of Christ. We needn’t become overly occupied about our stances on complex issues in our world, because they must submit themselves to the Lordship of Christ. Christ is our example.

You see Christ exhibited the full character of God because He is God. His very actions and teaching were just. He didn’t have an ideology. He said, “Be like me.” That is our charge and desire as followers of Christ. The spirit of the Lord came upon Him, because the Father anointed him to proclaim good news to the poor, proclaim liberty to the captive, recover the sight of the blind, set at liberty those who are oppressed and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. Sound familiar? If you’ve read ahead, you’ll see that Jesus is quoting from Isaiah 61. And quoting Isaiah is a heck of a way to do your inaugural speech. Being a prophet, after all, is destined to get you killed. But Jesus identified strongly with the tradition of the prophets, especially Isaiah. In fact, Jesus quoted Isaiah more than any other book. So we have a book, Isaiah, that prophetically asserts what is the content of a life consecrated to God—and a Savior who lives that out that consecrated life to God.

So what did our Savior, the Son of God, prophet, Messiah, King do? He made justice one of the central virtues of his teaching. He showed God’s people that justice is at the heart of God’s will—that it is woven into the righteous life. I’m going to get a little heady here, but bear with me: He showed that justice is crucial for relating love to a public ethic that reflects the sovereignty of God and the His lordship over all aspects of life. Seeing Christ’s relationship to justice is pivotal in present-day struggles for the soul of our society. I want to say that again. Seeing Christ’s relationship to justice is pivotal in present-day struggles for the soul of our society. The truth function returns, because IF we do justice THEN God will shine His light through our lives… and that display of glory will have a social impact—it will “go public.”

I confess there was a dark season of my life in which it was in my self-interest to not believe in God’s heart for justice. Likely, it’s still in my self-interest not to believe that… because if I believe what Christ’s example means for justice, I’ll have to “go public.” Just like we “go public” with our message of salvation, we “go public” with our life as the message about the justice and righteousness of our God. Justice, you see, has a relational and therefore public manifestation…

For example, Jesus confronted the representatives of the temple authority. In so doing he was confronting the public authorities of his time. Why? In Jesus’ time the state, church, and economic wealth were not separated but very much mixed together on the same hill and in the same temple in Jerusalem—the Romans, after all, let the Jewish authorities do most of the daily ruling. How sad it is then to steal Jesus power by making little of what he said by saying “he only taught on love! He had nothing to say about the political and economic powers and authorities!” I once believed a version of that lie. Another thing I repent of. David Gushee, a prominent scholar on the subject, notes that in Jesus “justice is not presented merely as an ideal for good that guides individuals in their private life but is a righteous demand that has the power to confront those who have power.” IF we do justice THEN God will shine His light through our lives.

And we have many examples:

· Jesus told the rich young ruler, “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven”.

· His parable of the unforgiving slave (Matthew 18) confronts those who do not forgive debts. If we’ll remember, God likes the releasing of debts as He instructed His people to do so during Jubilee.

· Jesus confronted the Pharisees about “devouring widow’s houses” while, as Gushee says, “maintaining a façade of piety with their long prayers.”

· He protected the adulterous woman from those who simply hid their sin better. He healed those who were socially relegated because of infirmity.

· He criticized the domination of the system, saying “they love to lord it over you, but it is not so among you”.

· In the parable of the tenants confronted those in authority for doing violence against the Lord’s servants.

· Jesus also taught about the exclusion from community. His parable of the Samaritan directly confronted those who excluded or hated the Samaritans.

· He healed the crippled man at Bethesda, restoring him to community.

These examples are directly applicable today. We have a climate where the religious authorities collude with the powers of the state and oppress the poor, both in our countries and in others. We as a society have an unwillingness to release debts, an unwillingness to commit our lives to the healing and restoration of others, an unwillingness to see peace as a viable option, an unwillingness to humanize the “other”, and an unwillingness to protect the most vulnerable from the abuses of power.

Who are the Vulnerable, the Poor, the Oppressed, and the Outcast today?

· Prisoners

· Those on welfare

· Those with infirmities

· The homeless

· Those who live down the street

· “illegal” immigrants

· Single mothers & most of the mothers who have had abortions

· Children who have been abused

· The fatherless

· Victims of war

· Prostitutes, young and old

· Refugees

· Street children

· The Dalit, “untouchable” class in India

· Slaves

· A widow in Uganda whose home has been stolen by relatives

· The displaced people in Iraq, Afghanistan, Mexico, Sudan, elsewhere

Granted, it’s easy to feel compassion for most of these groups of people, but do we have what it takes to give of our resources—our time, our connections, our money, our gifts—regardless of how they use them, in an expression of love and unmerited grace? Do we have what it takes to stand between them and their oppressors and champion their dignity and cause possibly at the cost of our life? If the prospect of either makes you feel overwhelmed with the enormity that is appropriate. After all, we’re likely not going to be able to impact every one of those people’s lives. But I have good news for you: It’s not our job to save the world. That’s God’s job. It’s our job to be faithful, love our neighbors, and to fight off the insidious desire to be comfortable and removed from the suffering around us.

As people approach justice, as the breadth of God’s instruction on the subject enters our heart, we often want to know where to start, what “issue” to champion. Should I care more about poverty or modern-day slavery? I urge you brother and sisters, to just go out into the world and love people. The “issues” will find you. If you love a family in the throes of poverty you will inevitably ask, “why are they poor?” The “issue” will simply be a person and a face—someone God loves. Injustice, after all, happens to people. So I encourage you brothers and sisters to go into the world to love people and not be afraid of the injustice you will find in the lives of the forgotten, the oppressed, and the abused. You can count on it being there and God has invited you to be a part of the solution. Remember, God can use me and he can use you. He used a number of murderers and prostitutes (namely Moses, King David, Paul, Rahab) to do some of His greatest work.

This is the good part, folks. We’ve seen that IF we delight in God and His ways, and do justice, THEN God’s glory will shine through us for all to see. Ok, so where does that put you and I? “How can I be like Christ in his justice work?” That’s a great question; I’m so glad you’ve asked:

As I go on, I’m going to have some of my friends here hand out some cards that I want you to have. I only printed 80… I hope that is enough. On this card is Micah 6:8—

What does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? [MICAH 6:8]

I want you to write down some of the people or people groups that you yourself want to get to know, that you want to move closer to relationally, that you want to share the fullness of the gospel with. All people need Jesus, but think specifically about the poor, the oppressed, and the forgotten right now. I want you to write on the front or back about this person or people and be honest with your ignorance about their experience, your not being sure about how to love them…. and your plan to rectify that. I am challenging you.

I’ll share with you what I would write. For me, one of my goals for the next year is to get to know some male prostitutes and love them and encourage them towards freedom and healing. Sure, I care about the “issue”, but at the end of the day an issue is only an issue because people are being treated unjustly.

So as those go out I will share just some small examples of what all this looks like in real life.

I have this friend Lana who met a group of refugees from Rwanda and Burundi here in the US and her heart just broke for them. They’ve come from a land that experienced terrible genocide and now they’re struggling to get by here in America. So Lana goes to them, she meets with them, provides for them, gives them here time, and connections. If you get the Church’s email, you’ve probably seen Chris’ email about her and her needs. That’s her using me as a connection, and me using the Church as a connection. Lana is doing a justice and mercy work. Also—If, for example, the police were to start harassing her Burundi friends—they are not, of course—and it became a justice issue of that kind, would she not intervene? Of course she would, because these people matter to her. This is where it all begins, by pouring ourselves out for the afflicted.

I have another friend here in the Valley who spent years in South America as a lawyer with International Justice Mission prosecuting cases of child rape. Now he’s here in Phoenix and he fights for the rights of undocumented migrants. He speaks truth to power and champions the cause of those with no power. It’s all justice work. It’s very different than Lana’s experience, but it’s all done out of an adherence to a fuller gospel.

And there are people in our church who have started ministries for the homeless and have catalyzed movement among the youth to pray for and serve the homeless right where they are—on the streets. Others in this church have done MTS groups for men & women who have experienced abuse. Others serve girls who have been prostituted on the streets of our city. Others give generously of what they have to the poor.

Plus we have classic examples in people like Mother Teresa and Martin Luther King, Jr. There are a million ways to pursue justice in our world. And “pursue” is a good word to use because justice is active. Giving extravagantly to the poor is fine; moreover it is expected of us and Chris talked about just generosity in the past couple of weeks. But no matter what, we should meet the poor and oppressed where they are. It make you to Van Buren, it may take you to Washington DC, or it may take you to a war zone.

I hope you’ve all been able to write something down.

Remember, IF we do justice THEN God will shine His light, His glory, through our lives.

- CLOSING

As we move into the final stretch I want to recap what God has shown us today:

· The fast that he desires is to do justice

· And IF we do Justice, His Glory will shine before us and we will experience God and His healing

· Also, if we have not done justice, as we should, then we should repent and accept God’s grace

· As a response to that grace we go into the world to extend God’s grace and His justice

· Finally, we have an awesome example in Christ and those who follow Him, of how to do these things faithfully.

Now, I will wrap this up with a story of how justice can look in our current context, right here, right now:

In Luke 14 Jesus tells us how to throw a party and his teaching on this party has something to say about justice. “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind and you will be blessed.” Doing so is a picture of justice, of viewing others as God views them and inviting them into healing, restorative community. To see an example of this, I will tell a story that Shane Claiborne tells about an experience he and his community, The Simple Way, had in Philadelphia: “Philly had begun to pass anti-homeless legislation, making it illegal to sleep in the parks, illegal to ask for money, illegal to lie down on the sidewalks. Ironically, the reason for many of these laws was Love Park, which was a place where homeless folks hung out because it was visible, safe, and central. Folks knew you could go there to give out food or clothing to people on the street. One of the city’s boldest moves was passing an ordinance that banned all food from the park, reading specifically ‘All persons must cease and desist from distributing food.’ and they began fining those who shared food with the homeless. We started to wonder what in the world it meant to love our neighbors as ourselves when they were being jailed for sleeping and eating. As St. Augustine said, “an unjust law is no law at all.” What did it mean to submit to authority and yet uphold God’s law of love? Either we had to invite them into our homes, which had reached capacity, or we wanted to be out with them in solidarity. So we threw a party in Love Park. About a hundred of us gathered in Love Park with homeless friends. We worshiped, sang, and prayed. Then we served communion, which was illegal. We continued the “breaking of the bread” by bringing in pizzas. It was a love feast and then we slept overnight with our homeless friends. We did that week after week. Then one night the police surrounded us and arrested us.” He recounts how at the court hearing—where he was wearing a “Jesus was Homeless” t-shirt— he and his friends were represented by a homeless friend they had because while the Simple Way folks have been offered legal representation, they recognized that the poor wouldn’t have been afforded it so they forwent legal representation in solidarity with the homeless. Ultimately the judge sided with them and exonerated them. That sounds like quite an end to the party Jesus is talking about, but what else can we expect from a world who does not view justice like God does. Shane later says, “There are cooler ways to live than by trying to follow the gospel. But look on the bright side; if you end up in jail, historically, you will be in very good company. Jail has always been an important place for Christians. In eras of injustice it becomes the Christian’s home.”

The question before me is: “Would I do that?” I mean, would I, like Paul, go to prison for preaching the gospel or living the gospel? Would you do that? Do I believe in God’s call for justice enough to suffer for it? In the meantime, while I’m not doing justice and not seeking to break the yoke of oppression, I am doing meaningless religious actions in expectance that it is a “fast pleasing to the Lord”. Of this I must repent. Remember, Jesus was crucified—in the most literal sense—because he spoke truth to power in his advocacy for the powerless. He was deeply concerned about justice in his context, how can we not be concerned about justice in ours? Can we not repent and follow him?

Let us pray.

Aren't We Beautiful?

Aren’t we courageous to deny what is before our eyes?

Aren’t we proud as we watch our loved one march off to “defend”?

Aren’t we winsome to laugh at the blindness?

Aren’t we superior to put them against a wall?

Aren’t we fragrant as we hear the screams?

Aren’t we loving to teach and admonish in our way?

Aren’t we humane to realize separation?

Aren’t we wise when we have attained the truth of “moral equivalency”?

Aren’t we progressive when we deny barbarity?

Aren’t we powerful to choose what is right?

Aren’t we charming to mock what isn’t us?

Aren’t we necessary when those around can’t…?

Aren’t we comfortable when we have our embrace?

Aren’t we right when we have broken every mirror?

Aren’t we God when we deny them humanity?

Aren’t they as animals?

Aren’t we beautiful?

The day the Lord has made.

July 3^rd, 2009

Washington, District of Columbia—Today was a fantastic day. It’s almost a life-in-a-day for my time here in the District, which has been rife with laughter, walking, people, learning, and spectacle. I love this city.

Laura, my housemate, woke me up this morning to ask if I still planned to go biking down on the mall with her uncle Angus and two sisters, Julie and Betsy. “Heck yes!” I responded in a half-asleep stupor. I don’t get to sleep in much. You understand. I eventually was able to jump on Ben’s, Laura’s husband’s, bike and fly down to the mall. This was my first time riding a bike in the District. It was one of the best experiences of my being here. The weather was pristine, a few clouds, perfect humidity, wind rushing through my hair, avoiding wayward drivers. Only so close to death does one touch life.

I made it down to the Washington monument in record time (for me) and found Laura and Julie and then Uncle Angus and Betsy, who had ridden down earlier. We stood in the shadow of America’s own pire to its greatest leader. Flags fluttered and the flurry of humanity was all around us as the nation’s capital prepared for the insanity that is July 4^th weekend. Uncle Angus, Betsty, and I ended up riding up and down the Potomac on what has been the most beautiful day I’ve seen since being here. I was, for one of the first times, reminded, as I crossed over the Potomac, “This is the day that the Lord has made”. I remembered and thanked Him genuinely and deeply for the oxygen in my lungs and the privilege of being in this city serving at International Justice Mission. We stopped underneath the flight path of National Airport watching Airbuses and Boeings roar over us nice and low. We soon left to preserve our hearing, back on the narrow path being passed by those more serious at biking than us. It was awesome to just ride slow through the lush grass and willow trees that line the Potomac. I couldn’t help but marvel at what a great job the designer of D.C., L’Enfant, did. The city is truly stunning at many angles and has a peculiar feel to it. It almost never ceases to surprise.

The ride back to the Lincoln Memorial, where we were meeting up was made even better by the President’s helicopters (CH-53 variants) flying fast and low over the memorial bridge. This was continual all morning, and added a powerful backdrop to the serene beauty of the green space of the District. I remember riding in those quite often over the mountains of California, once taking off from the USS Tarawa to do an “embassy reinforcement” exercise in Orange County, California. I wonder if President Obama gets the same thrill as Marine One lifts off the White House lawn taking him to Andrews Air Force Base to board Air Force One headed to wherever he goes. It has to be exciting and empowering. I wonder if anything ever humbles those displays of power. I hope so.

We then met up with Julie and Laura, and after multiple failed attempts to carry them on the back of our road bikes (kids, don’t try this at home), we “settled down” near the Jefferson Memorial for a lunch of cold burritos and power bars. The funny jokes, quotes, stories, and handstand competitions quickly ensued. Above the fray, I merely photographed. Not really. No matter, from there Betsy and I rode to the National Gallery of Art, meeting Julie and Laura there. The NGA was simply fantastic. I sometimes forget there is art that’s 600 years old and that I can get 1 ft away from it. I saw a Salvador Dali painting. A real Dali. Dali once said “The only difference between me and a madman is that I’m not mad.” which is one of my favorite quotes He’s awesome. There was some really amazing installation art including a piece titled “Light Emitting Diodes, Mac Mini, and Aluminum Slats”. Mac, represent. After that amazing experience, Betsy and I rode back home where I learned why it is called Columbia “Heights”. You just don’t get the same speed going uphill. Betsy is a fantastic tour guide though and she explained some different parts of the dynamic city in which we live. Once home I made spaghetti with vodka sauce, we talked about patriarchy and global women’s issues (great lunch conversation). Then I took a nap. Now, I’m writing this…

All in all the day has been extremely satisfying (Laura, you knew it was coming ;-), much like this whole time in D.C. has been. I’m learning, slowly, to balance movement and repose. Ryan understands. I’m learning to take time for people again. I’ve lost that. I’m learning I have plenty to learn and plenty to be humble about. I’m learning what I’m good at and what I’m terrible at. I’m learning, again, how wonderful my family and friends are and how blessed I am to have them. I love people.

Since being here I’ve had more amazing experiences than I know what to do with. I’ve had an amazing burger at Five Guys and Tonic, I’ve walked to the Pentagon, I’ve met Gary Haugen, I’ve had a BBQ in the hills of Maryland, I’ve sent my resume to the State Dept, I’ve stayed a couple of nights at Keeferton Cabin, staying up late to talk of godly and manly things, eating meat for multiple days. I’ve seen lightning storms wreck the sky from the wraparound porch of our 1870’s home in Mt. Pleasant. I’ve met the #2 guy at Amnesty International, heard a book reading by Chimamanda Adichie of her book “The Thing Around Your Neck”, I’ve hit up the night scene on U Street with the other interns, I’ve had beautiful conversations with my boys here: Jonathan, Grant, and Brent (intern at the State Dept). I’ve walked late at night through Foggy Bottom listening to VNV Nation, I’ve seen deer at Rock Creek National Park in the city, I’ve met my friend and former professor Albert Celoza, attending church at Christ our Shepard, hearing one of the best sermons I’ve ever heard. I’ve been to Falls Church for an IJM prayer retreat where I learned much about joy, God, and the wonderful organization I work at, I’ve been thinking about what my next tattoo will be since I have to get one in D.C., I’ve talked with men much wiser than I about the mystery and wonder of God, I’ve been able to meet a houseless man who is truly an amazing soul, I’ve found out that an old friend lives like a block away. I’ve stood in silence at the necessary soul devastation that is Holocaust Museum. I’ve talked with Ben about the most random things, I’ve seen old battlefields where the North fought the South, I’ve waited for far too long for a Metro, I’ve stood without falling as the train car barrels down the tunnel just a bit shorter amount of time than Brent. I’ve talked with old diplomats and spies and those the CIA is actively trying to recruit who have seen the world through different eyes come to where it is now, I’ve walked around the city at night, sitting with Jonathan in front of the White House just taking it all in. I’ve stayed up late watching hilarious videos with my housemates of our computers quoting things that, in retrospect, are completely inappropriate. I’ve seen the Secret Service protecting an upscale café on Pennsylvania Avenue. I’ve traveled back to Phoenix, gotten sick, seen some close friends, and attended a wonderful wedding. I’ve even met, super-randomly, the girl who I replaced as Human Rights intern at IJM. I’ve had more coincidences here than I care to share. I’ve talked about Africa, and love, and loss. I’ve cooked and been cooked for. I’ve been in prayers where I hear of dozens of people being freed from slavery. I’ve met dozens of people who have done extraordinary things for the Lord at every corner of this earth, from Kazakhstan to Argentina to Congo. I’ve been riveted to the Iranian election crisis, and been able to talk to some wise people about it, I’ve been able to talk to people in India and Zambia. I’ve heard of miracles as people have returned from Africa. I’ve memorized mewithoutYou lyrics and found a fellow fan at IJM (super exciting!), I’ve eaten Filet Minon that cost way too much, I’ve hung out quite a bit with my housemates, I’ve enjoyed an Anglican church, I’ve pretended I’m a local when on the Metro, I’ve done a million things at IJM that I’ll simply have to talk about at a later time. I’m making plans to go to NY and Boston. I’ve done a lot.

More than anything I’ve been loved. Thank you God for the blessing of living here and getting to do all that I’ve done and getting a break from the desert, which I also love. I wish I would have been able to keep a better journal going on here, but it’s been busy as you’ve seen. I’ll get more on here about my work at IJM later J

I love you all,

~Dan~

Also, notable albums that have come out recently you should definitely consider picking up:

--mewithoutYou, “It’s all Crazy! It’s all False! It’s all a Dream! It’s Alright.”

--VNV Nation, “Of Faith, Power, and Glory”

--Emery, “…In Shallow Seas We Sail”