Evangelical recovery

Several prominent evangelicals released a statement today called The Evangelical Manifesto. Definitely worth reading.

The statement and its signers seek to define evangelicalism in a way that, after 30+ years of Dobson/Falwell/Robertson holding the megaphone, may sound a lot like someone trying to put new spin on an old idea. But what this manifesto proposes is nothing more (or less) than a return to evangelicalism in its most classical, authentic sense.

This is evangelicalism as John Newton and William Wilberforce knew it.

Not surprisingly, James Dobson declined to sign it, citing a mostly unspecified “myriad of concerns.”

What I love most about this manifesto is its humility. The signers distance themselves from some of the more extreme expressions of evangelicalism in recent history—without becoming strident or self-righteous… or falling into the trap of making little more than a desperate appeal for acceptance.

Here are some of my favorite bits. But really, you should skip this part and download the whole thing…

As followers of “the narrow way,” our concern is not for approval and popular esteem. Nor do we regard it as accurate or faithful to pose as victims, or to protest at discrimination. We certainly do not face persecution like our fellow-believers elsewhere in the world. Too many of the problems we face as Evangelicals in the United States are those of our own making. If we protest, our protest has to begin with ourselves….

As the universal popularity of such hymns and songs as “Amazing Grace” attests, our great hymn writers stand alongside our great theologians, and often our commitment can be seen better in our giving and our caring than in official statements. What we are about is captured not only in books or declarations, but in our care for the poor, the homeless, and the orphaned; our outreach to those in prison; our compassion for the hungry and the victims of disaster; and our fight for justice for those oppressed by such evils as slavery and human trafficking….

Above all else, [evangelicalism] is a commitment and devotion to the person and work of Jesus Christ, his teaching and way of life, and an enduring dedication to his lordship above all other earthly powers, allegiances and loyalties. As such, it should not be limited to tribal or national boundaries, or be confused with, or reduced to political categories such as “conservative” and “liberal”….

First and foremost we Evangelicals are for Someone and for something rather than against anyone or anything. The Gospel of Jesus is the Good News of welcome, forgiveness, grace, and liberation from law and legalism. It is a colossal YES to life and human aspirations, and an emphatic NO only to what contradicts our true destiny as human beings made in the image of God….

We call for an expansion of our concern beyond single-issue politics, such as abortion and marriage, and a fuller recognition of the comprehensive causes and concerns of the Gospel, and of all the human issues that must be engaged in public life. Although we cannot back away from our biblically rooted commitment to the sanctity of every human life, including those unborn, nor can we deny the holiness of marriage as instituted by God between one man and one woman, we must follow the model of Jesus, the Prince of Peace, engaging the global giants of conflict, racism, corruption, poverty, pandemic diseases, illiteracy, ignorance, and spiritual emptiness, by promoting reconciliation, encouraging ethical servant leadership, assisting the poor, caring for the sick, and educating the next generation. We believe it is our calling to be good stewards of all God has entrusted to our care so that it may be passed on to generations yet to be born….

The other error, made by both the religious left and the religious right in recent decades, is to politicize faith, using faith to express essentially political points that have lost touch with biblical truth. That way faith loses its independence, the church becomes “the regime at prayer,” Christians become “useful idiots” for one political party or another, and the Christian faith becomes an ideology in its purest form. Christian beliefs are used as weapons for political interests. Christians from both sides of the political spectrum, left as well as right, have made the mistake of politicizing faith; and it would be no improvement to respond to a weakening of the religious right with a rejuvenation of the religious left. Whichever side it comes from, a politicized faith is faithless, foolish, and disastrous for the church—and disastrous first and foremost for Christian reasons rather than constitutional reasons….

We Evangelicals trace our heritage, not to Constantine, but to the very different stance of Jesus of Nazareth. While some of us are pacifists and others are advocates of just war, we all believe that Jesus’ Good News of justice for the whole world was promoted, not by a conqueror’s power and sword, but by a suffering servant emptied of power and ready to die for the ends he came to achieve. Unlike some other religious believers, we do not see insults and attacks on our faith as “offensive” and “blasphemous” in a manner to be defended by law, but as part of the cost of our discipleship that we are to bear without complaint or victim-playing….

On another note, today’s SojoMail, a weekly update from Sojourners (which included a feature on the Evangelical Manifesto) had what might be one of the more ironic pairing of banner ads I’ve seen…

Awesome. (I know… Rebecca St. James hardly qualifies as “rock star” material, but still… it’s a LITTLE funny…)

Conservative heroism / heroic conservatism (update)

Follow-up to the last post… here’s an interesting interview of Michael Gerson by Jon Stewart. (I would make it easy for you and embed the flash video here, but I just found out WordPress won’t let me.)

Conservative heroism / heroic conservatism

I read about this on the God’s Politics blog this evening…

Michael Gerson is regarded by many as one of the most talented (and controversial) speechwriters today. Having spent five-plus years as the top White House speechwriter, Gerson, a graduate of Wheaton College, is the man responsible for such memorable lines as the poetic “soft bigotry of low expectations” and the infamous “axis of evil.”

Gerson has a new book releasing this month, Heroic Conservatism. I don’t normally write about books I haven’t read yet, but the God’s Politics post got me curious.

According to the Washington Post (where Gerson is now an op-ed columnist), he writes in his book that “traditional conservatism has a piece missing—a piece that is shaped like a conscience.” In his own column, Gerson wrote earlier today that some conservatives are proposing a false choice between big-government liberalism and “freedom, reduced to a single principle of unrestricted economic choice.”

Gerson, an evangelical Christian, believes many of his fellow conservatives are drawing from the well of libertarianism. He proposes that Catholic social thought—which maintains the dignity of every human life, the importance of the family and community, and solidarity with the poor, among other things—would make a better foundation for those whose politics lean toward the right.

(As a side note, one aspect of Catholic social thought that conservatives especially resonate with—the sanctity of life—is also cause for discomfort among some of them. In addition to its opposition to abortion, this tenet of Catholic social thought maintains that war and capital punishment must also be rejected in favor of life.)

Focusing mostly on what Catholic social thought says about the poor, Gerson writes:

The difference between these visions is considerable. Various forms of libertarianism and anti-government conservatism share a belief that justice is defined by the imposition of impartial rules—free markets and the rule of law. If everyone is treated fairly and equally, the state has done its job. But Catholic social thought takes a large step beyond that view. While it affirms the principle of limited government—asserting the existence of a world of families, congregations and community institutions where government should rarely tread—it also asserts that the justice of society is measured by its treatment of the helpless and poor. And this creates a positive obligation to order society in a way that protects and benefits the powerless and suffering.

This obligation to protect has never, in Jewish and Christian teaching, been purely private. Hebrew law made a special provision for the destitute—requiring that a portion of harvested crops be left in the field to be gathered by the poor. The Hebrew prophets raucously confronted the political and economic exploitation of the weak.

Speaking as one who doesn’t feel at home among the labels or parties at either end of the political spectrum, I think both sides of the aisle (and everyone in between) would benefit from more thinking like Gerson’s.

Does Jesus want a “Christian nation”?

The International Herald-Tribune posted an interesting article on their website yesterday:

The U.S. is not a “Christian nation”

This is no anti-religious article. The writer—Newsweek editor Jon Meacham—doesn’t make the founding fathers out to be irreligious. In fact, he readily acknowledges that many of this country’s architects were deeply committed to their faith.

Meacham does, however, cite some interesting historical facts to support his argument that we are not a Christian nation. For example, when Connecticut ratified the Constitution, some felt there wasn’t enough religious language in it and campaigned to revise this country’s foundational document. Their efforts, however, failed. Meacham also quotes some who opposed the Constitution’s ratification because, in the words of one such critic, “No deity comes down to dictate it.”

Of course, our national liturgy is filled with religious language, and Meacham is not blind to this fact. His argument is not that Christianity has no place in our national story—just that it does not occupy the only place.

But what fascinates me more than Meacham’s historical observations are the theological questions he raises. He reminds us of the profoundly spiritual and political statement Jesus made to Pilate, governor of Judea, shortly before Jesus’ crucifixion: “My kingdom is not of this world.”

Meacham also cites Peter’s speech at Cornelius’ house, given on the occasion the apostle first realized that God does not prefer Jew over non-Jew (or vice versa):

I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts those from every nation who fear him and do what is right.

— Acts 10:34 (TNIV)

For me, all of this raises the question: What would Jesus do with a “Christian nation” anyway? Is it something he even wants?

It seems to me that Jesus did not put his faith in nations to advance the kingdom of God. The notion of spreading the gospel by the sword (which, in the scriptures, is a metaphor for governments) originated with Constantine, not Jesus.

Jesus, it seems, had a better plan.

It hinged upon a group of followers who were not of this world, advancing a kingdom that was not of this world—that is, a kingdom that does not depend on the power of nations or governments or militaries or anything else that denotes power in the minds of most.

Apparently, Jesus was under the impression that small groups of people from every background imaginable could accomplish more simply by loving each other (and their neighbors) than any “Christian nation” ever could.

When we aspire to make this country a “Christian nation,” maybe we’re settling for less than what God wants to offer us.

A theology of patriotism

Today is the Fourth of July.

Which means fireworks and Tchaikovsky. Hot dogs and… more hot dogs. Church sanctuaries draped in red, white and blue.

It’s always that last bit that leaves me feeling a little uneasy this time of year.

On the one hand… there are many things I love about this country—most of all, the fact that it’s my home. Whenever I travel abroad—whether it’s overseas or just over the border to Canada—the return trip always feels appropriately like a homecoming of sorts. It’s like something inside me says, “This is where I belong,” as I wait for the customs official to wave me past the security checkpoint. (It doesn’t even matter that the customs officials I’ve met in other parts of the world are almost always politer than the ones I’ve met in my own country.)

Also, I’m enchanted by the American story, warts and all. I’ve always been a fan of history—an interest faithfully cultivated by my parents. And I think the American Revolutionary War is one of the most fascinating periods in history—one that inspired some of the greatest innovations in government since the Greeks first experimented with democracy.

There were many reasons for the Revolution—some more compelling than others. But ultimately, the quest for independence came down to this: (1) a basic (and well-founded) distrust of monarchy without accountability and (2) a belief that if a parliament in London was to decide how Americans would be taxed, then there ought to be an American voice in that parliament to represent the interests of the American people. In other words, “no taxation without representation,” as the revolutionary motto said.

It was not democracy in the purest sense that the founding fathers championed (even though we toss that word around a lot today). Rather, it was the idea that someone who speaks for and is accountable to the people ought to have a say in the governing of that people—the decisions made, the laws passed, the taxes levied.

But perhaps the greatest moment of the Revolution came after it was over. George Washington, the first great American hero (whose integrity made up for his lack of tactical military skill), was offered the reward customarily given to those who have successfully thrown off the yoke of an oppressor: he was given the chance to rule in place of the oppressor he had defeated. To become the first king of America. To begin a dynasty that might have lasted to this day.

Few in history have been given the chance at absolute (or near absolute) power and managed to decline the offer. (Though one such person can be found in the New Testament.) But at the very moment when General Washington could have become King George the American, he did the unthinkable. He resigned his commission and returned to private life.

Six years later, Washington was elected president; but in this role he once more resisted the temptation of limitless power. Long before there was a law requiring him to do so, Washington stood down after just two terms in office. He set a precedent that all but one of his successors would follow. He laid the foundation for a peaceful transition from one government to the next—a rare blessing in this world of ours, and one that few of us appreciate as much as we should.

Another thing I love about this country: America has often used its power and influence for good—investing in a daring and massive reconstruction effort after World War II, without which Western Europe might still be recovering from the devastation. And in our own time, leading the rich countries of the world in the fight against AIDS in Africa.

In short, there is much to love about this country.

On the other hand… I always feel a deep sense of conflict whenever I see the church wrap itself in the flag or get caught up in a wave of patriotic fervor. The marriage of Christianity and patriotism seems to me anything but a match made in heaven. Whether it’s the televised church service with a massive stars-and-stripes backdrop or the “American Christian” t-shirt I saw in Denver last year, with a cross superimposed onto a flag—I’m not sure that our modern notion of patriotism is compatible with the scriptures.

It’s tempting to think the founding fathers were Bible-believing Christians. It is true that many of them invoked the name of God repeatedly as they made their case for revolution. It’s also true that quite a lot of people in history have used God’s name to sanctify their chosen course of action—sometimes for good and noble purposes, and often for not-so-good-and-noble purposes.

But if we are supposed to be a “Christian nation,” then shouldn’t the Bible be the standard by which we judge our history, including our revolution? If it is, we may find ourselves with something of a dilemma on our hands.

Peter once wrote the following words to persecuted Christians living under the thumb of Nero (or perhaps Domitian), a ruler far more tyrannical than any king of England:

Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every human authority: whether to the emperor, as the supreme authority, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right. For it is God’s will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of the foolish. Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as God’s slaves. Show proper respect to everyone, love your fellow believers, fear God, honor the emperor.

—1 Peter 2:12-17 (TNIV)

Jesus, much like the founding fathers, grew up in a land that was ruled by a distant monarch. At home in Galilee, the messiah was surrounded by revolutionary zeal. He spent most of his adult life a few miles from the birthplace of the Jewish Zealot movement—a movement whose tactics were comparable to those of the “Swamp Fox” of American revolutionary lore and even the insurgents who have wreaked so much havoc in Iraq today.

But Jesus categorically, unequivocally resisted and rejected Zealot ideology. In what may have been his most politically charged sermon, Jesus articulated an alternative to the way of the Zealot:

Do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.

— Matthew 5:39-41 (TNIV)

For himself and for his followers, Jesus took an uncompromising stand against military resistance—even if it’s against the cruelest of tyrants.

What’s more, Jesus practiced what he preached—even (and especially) when it counted most. When Jesus was arrested outside Jerusalem, Peter reacted like a true Zealot: he began swinging his sword. Perhaps he thought this was the moment they’d been waiting for—the moment the revolution would finally begin. (After all, it’s no secret that the disciples consistently failed to grasp the nonviolent nature of Jesus’ movement.) But instead of rallying the disciples to himself, Jesus stunned Peter with this rebuke:

Put your sword back in its place… for all who draw the sword will die by the sword.

— Matthew 26:52 (TNIV)

The fate of anyone who chooses to raise the sword, Jesus taught, is sealed: it is to be cut down by another sword. Military revolution breeds only more military revolution. Insurgency breeds counterinsurgency. Peace—lasting peace, that is—does not come by force. If it did, we would all speak Latin today, for “peace through victory” was the mantra of the greatest empire the world has ever known… yet even Rome ultimately succumbed to someone else’s bloody path to victory.

So… I am grateful for the freedoms that we enjoy in America. I am grateful for the country I live in. I am grateful for leaders of all stripes who, whatever faults and vices they may have, willingly and peacefully hand over power when their term has ended. I am grateful for the many good things this country has done for the world. But I will not glorify the events that are celebrated on this day by baptizing them in a faith which, in reality, teaches a very different response to oppression and injustice.

I am fortunate—and thankful—to live in a country where I can freely pledge my allegiance to Christ without fear of persecution. (And those who characterize the minor hardships faced by Christians in America as persecution insult, albeit inadvertently, the sacrifices made by those in other parts of the world who’ve known what real persecution feels like.) But this freedom I have does not necessarily mean that allegiance to my God and allegiance to my country are perfectly compatible.

So what does all this mean practically? The answer might vary from one person to another. These are not easy issues with black-and-white answers. Some may choose not to join the military, not wanting to bind their conscience to the government and let others decide for them when it’s all right to kill another human being. Others, having searched their conscience, will join the military and do their utmost to serve with honor—out of a desire to do good, not to inflict harm. Both impulses are, I believe, honorable.

The Bible does not encourage military service. To the best of my understanding, the scriptures advocate a nonviolent alternative to the idea of “peace through victory.”

If that’s all the Bible had to say, the answer to this question might be pretty simple. But the fact is, we meet more than one soldier when we read the New Testament (Roman soldiers, no less!), and not one of them was commanded to leave their post in order to follow Jesus. Even though the Roman military was anything but a force for good, Jesus did not make desertion a prerequisite for joining his movement. And neither should we.

Instead—no matter what country we live in, no matter what emblem is stamped on the front of our passports—as members of God’s kingdom, I hope we all learn to be good citizens of whatever earthly kingdom we find ourselves in. I hope we always remember that we can only serve one master, and that loyalty to God always trumps loyalty to country. And I hope we resist the temptation to give simplistic answers (on both sides) when asked what it means to be a good citizen of two kingdoms.

Film Faith and Justice :: day 1

My wife and I bought weekend passes to Film Faith and Justice 2007 here in Seattle. I’ll be blogging about the highlights from each day. Here’s day one…

Tonight, we heard Shane Claiborne (author of The Irresistible Revolution). He spoke at our church in Michigan a couple of times, so it was nice to hear a familiar voice sharing some familiar stories.

But there was one story I hadn’t heard before, and I doubt I’ll be able to get it out of my head…

Shane was visiting churches in Iraq when he said to one of the pastors there, “I had no idea there were so many Christians in Iraq.”

The pastor replied, “You Americans didn’t invent Christianity. You just domesticated it.”

Then he said, “We pray for the church in America. We pray that you will be the people of God, that you will be people of peace.”

What does it say about us, when Christians living in one of the most dangerous places on earth feel compelled to pray — for us?

What does it say about us, that Christians who have experienced real peril look at us and pray that our faith will be undomesticated?

And what does it say about me, that I pray so little for the church in Iraq — a church that’s in danger of disappearing?

confession

I saw on the news this evening that the 15 British sailors detained by Iran are going to be released in a few hours.

And my first thought was, “Oh, maybe now gas prices will start to go down a little.”

…and that’s when I realized just how consumeristic I can be.

Dobson and global warming (part 2)

Earlier this month, Newsweek wrote about Dobson’s call for Richard Cizik to resign from the NAE over his comments on global warming. Then Tom Minnery, a senior vp at Focus on the Family, responded. (You have to scroll down a bit to get to Minnery’s letter to the editor.)

And Christianity Today’s weblog weighed in last week as well. Their post is well worth reading.

More to come (eventually)…