Unity is Not Oppression

Psalm 33:1, 3, “How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity… For there the Lord bestows his blessing, even life forevermore” (NIV).

I feel confident that these words should be able to stand on their own and yet concerned that they might be misconstrued in the current cultural climate.  Here’s my take, in a world where I have had to back way… way… down on social media involvement over the past week, because I can’t seem to deal with the hate that is being spewed.  My preference is to get out into the community and to do something with and for people who are being oppressed, because that seems to be more beneficial to all involved.

I have not been completely silent (because, of course, silence can insinuate approval and perpetuate cruelty).  You can listen to some of my thoughts regarding racism and bigotry, here, if you really want to, but it might be better to use that time loving on people in the real world… in your real world.  I recognize that my own voice is less effective at the present time than my actions might be.

But, today, I will comment briefly.  Unity is not oppression.  We cannot define unity by propagating the “us and them” mentality and then placing the burden on “them” to become like “us” in order for blessing and peace to fall from heaven!  God is not going to bless this. 

We are not the gatekeepers.  It is time to open our tables and relinquish our platforms to people who are not like us in order to allow their voices to be heard as legitimate, essential, and authentic.  Unity is diversity.

L.

For Common Use

Romans 9:21 has significance to me for a variety of reasons, but something fresh hit me when I read it, today:

“Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for special purposes and some for common use?” (NIV).

Synonyms for ‘common’ include words like ordinary, regular, usual, and conventional.  A quick synonym search in Microsoft Word will even bring up the phrase, “nothing special.”  But ‘common’ has more than one meaning…

It also means, “shared… mutual… communal… collective… for all…”  Instead of “nothing special,” common might, indeed, be extraordinary.

What if some of us are made for use by everyone?  Kind of makes me think of Jesus…

L.

Too Much

Buried deep within the genealogical record of Esau’s descendents is a line we might skim over, merely because of its location in Scripture:

Genesis 36:7, “Their possessions were too great for them to remain together; the land where they were staying could not support them both…” (NIV).

Of course, Jacob and Esau have a storied history.  From conception, they have been fighting over space and rights and blessings and dinner.  They have a multitude of reasons to avoid living in the same neighborhood, but this one is an odd one.  They have too much stuff between them (another double meaning for the week). 

I write a lot about the tragedy that has befallen us as a selfish people who do not care about the poor and oppressed as we should—the fear, the greed, the identity crisis that has caused us to forget that all people are our people.  Strangely, selfishness can also prevent us from interacting well with people who are just like us—the fear, the greed, the identity crisis that has caused us to forget that there is enough space for everyone… well… unless we hoard stuff.  Then it gets tricky.

Over a period of time, I have been slowly processing what it is that I actually need, defined as require.  I think it’s important to make a distinction between basic, physical needs and self-indulgent wants, but there is also something in-between.  Maybe there is even a lot of something in-between.  And the middle is always where lines blur and color turns to grey.  I’m still working through it, but I have reached a few defining principles:

I require less than I thought.  With undertones of self-deprecating humor, I have sometimes referred to myself as high maintenance, but I’m realizing that I’m actually not.  In reality, I don’t ask nearly as much of others as I ask of myself.  I made a list of my expectations, this morning, and it looked like this: don’t lie to me, don’t waste my time, don’t hurt my kids.  I’m pretty sure those are all reasonable requests.  Admittedly, I turn into someone I don’t even know if those principles are broken, so they’re more than ‘just’ wants.  They are needs.

I require very few things, which is not to say that I do not own far too many.  As our family has downsized (even with five children at home), some of our close friends and family members have freaked out.  Are we giving away too much?  I don’t think so, and I am confident that it is tied to my next need…

I require ample, uncluttered space.  This is holistically true.  Physical space is one thing, but I also need mental, emotional, spiritual, and even social space.  Just as in literature, there must be a balance between blank space and text or images (activity).  If there are no margins, I do not recognize what I have for what it is.   

I require that people take priority over possessions or prominence.  It’s not about me.  I will share.  Community has become more essential to me than ever, so if you need my stuff… or even if you legitimately need my space (admittedly, I might be slightly stingier with that)… you can have it.  There’s enough to go around. 

Maybe that’s why this piece of Jacob’s and Esau’s narrative stings.  Why can’t they be satisfied with less of themselves and more of the other?  Thankfully, their story doesn’t end like this, but they lose so much in the process of trying to gain something else.  The number of years and the quality of relationship that is lost simply isn’t worth it.

‘The land’ can support us all.

L.

Do We Really Want This?

It is becoming apparent to me that I have a skewed sense of time.  I regularly begin sentences with, “recently,” or, “the other day,” and then I stop to think about how much time has passed.  Often, it is months or even years.  So, I was going to start this post by claiming, “In recent years there has been a resurgence of interest in early Church practices,” but then it occurred to me that I might be writing about something that is actually more than a decade old.  That’s OK, but it probably needs to be put into perspective.  With that in mind…

Many, many years ago (ten or more), a lot of people were talking about the importance of returning to the roots of the early church.  I loved those discussions.  I entered into those discussions.  And, because I think talk is cheap if not followed by actions; I worked hard to actually apply some of the principles.  This passage from Acts is a good jumping off point: 

Acts 2:42-47, “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved (NIV).

However, there is something that deeply disturbs me.  It’s the idea that living in community of this magnification sounds excellent on paper, but not too many people want to commit to it in real life.  In fact, when a group of people does engage in such communal living, they are most likely found to be a dangerous cult of some sort!  So, what do we do with this?

Radical hospitality is inconvenient.  There.  I said it.  It’s not all that difficult to commit to teaching, fellowship, the breaking of bread, and prayer for one hour every week, although even this is, admittedly, an inconvenience to the regularly scheduled lives of so many.

And therein lies the problem…  This was never about our regularly scheduled lives…

When I think about commonality, I can’t help but consider the tension of our current political climate and the pushing and shoving and grasping for more and more that can lead to statements about what other human beings do (or more frequently, do not) deserve—to statements about caring for ourselves and “our own,” even though all of humanity is our own.  It is incredibly easy to get upset over people who seem selfish.  But who of us has actually sold everything in order to meet the needs of everyone?  Confession: I have not.  And yet, I think this might be the easier predicament found in these verses, because the next part is more relational than most anyone is comfortable with…

The early church met together daily…  (Oh, wow… even if I’m willing to give you all my possessions; I might think twice about giving you all my time).

They broke bread together in their homes … (Oh, wow… even if I’m willing to give you all my possessions and a lot of my time; I might think twice about allowing you to invade my personal space).

And they liked it!  And more and more people came!

Now, I actually have lived into the whole “my door is always open, come eat in my kitchen… and living room… and I’ll even leave a couple of bags of groceries for you on my porch, just in case I’m legitimately not available” mode of doing life, and I want to be exceptionally real: It’s not easy!  Also (still being real here), it may not be sustainable, long-term, without some help.  But there is something spiritual that happens over bread broken together on a very regular basis.  And the people do come… sometimes in droves…

Maybe we’re doing it wrong…

L.

Leadership

II Chronicles 20:12, “…We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you” (NIV).

Yesterday, I ran across a post on social media that talked about humble leadership.  The original post directed me to the scene from the LOTR trilogy, in which Frodo accepts the great responsibility of carrying the ring to Mordor.  He says, “I will take it… though, I do not know the way…”

The whole scene is quite captivating, and I’m not sure any part of it is as beautiful as the look on Gandalf’s face when Frodo accepts this challenge, this position of leadership, for which he is both entirely unprepared and unqualified, but to which he has also been called. 

Of course, this is also the point at which the Fellowship of the Ring is formed—the community that will surround Frodo on his journey, because one cannot hope to lead, alone.  The very nature of leadership, at its core, requires cooperation.

I often feel a little like Jehoshaphat, when he prays to God and trusts that God will hear and save his people, even though Jehoshaphat has no idea what he’s doing… 

I often feel a little like Frodo, when he takes the ring and trusts that he will be able to carry out his task, even though Frodo has no idea what’s he doing…

I think I’m just trying to confess that I have no idea what I’m doing…

But I’m looking to God, I’m looking at God… and God sees me, and I see God… so I guess I’m going to stumble along, hopefully just one step further forward than backward as I go.

Leadership is not sexy.  Leadership is not power.  Leadership begins and ends with servanthood.  At the end of any quest or any calling, it is often accompanied by layers upon layers of dirt and grime and blood and sweat and tears and scars.  And then we die.  But at least we lived…

 
L.