However, that news click-bait was not referring to the Christ of the Gospels. It was not intended to help focus our attention on the historical story of the sacrificial death and the miraculous return to life of the “King of the Jews.” This headline was about the expected arrest of a former president—one for whom the parallels of the mission of the Biblical Messiah are, for some Americans, strikingly similar: “We need someone to fix this mess, to take the power away from those on the other side of the aisle and restore power to those of us who are being deprived of our rights. And now, the one in whom we trust is likely to be arrested and persecuted for trying to ‘take back’ our nation from those who are ruining it.”

I feel that the juxtaposition of the two events this week, the two scenarios of the arrest of an ideological leader (the historical arrest of Jesus Christ and the possible arrest of Donald Trump), help to expose the hopes and expectations of many Christians. And I’m deeply concerned about the way many Christian friends are conflating the goals and ideology of the Kingdom of Christ and the ideologies embedded in the cultural wars of American and Canadian society.

The Christ who was arrested by the enemies of “The Kingdom of God” in ancient Israel came to this earth to establish a way of life, a society based on self-sacrifice, love and fulfillment that leads to eternal life. The movement he began practically integrated into itself the ultimate ideal of God “reconciling to himself all things in heaven and on earth.” There was no space for grasping power over others, no need for conquest by might, no assumption that our fears are allayed by accumulating weapons, and certainly no expectation that God’s plan hinges on the successful recovery of national pride and patriotism.

In contrast to that, I feel that many American Christians have completely altered and redesigned the story. The Jesus we now need is a “saviour” who came to earth and died to make sure that some of us don’t go to hell, that there is relief for the guilt we feel for our sins, that we don’t commit most sexual sins, and that after death there is a destination where my soul can float around in ethereal bliss forever.

This story doesn’t need a Jesus who actually transforms our value system and replaces our entire bent toward power, wealth, empires, and control of others. This story keeps Jesus in his place—as saviour of our souls, so that we can pursue the American dream and avoid the limitations of political weakness and vulnerability to the rich and powerful.

This “Christian” story seems to imagine that the United States is the standard by which to measure every belief and ideology. This story attempts to hang our future and our hopes and our joys on the preservation of an empire and on the romantic description of the founding of the nation and how blissfully utopian it will be when it is great again.

Instead of expending energies and passions toward reconciliation, justice, and flourishing communities where mutual respect and hope and self-sacrifice put others’ needs in focus, the new “gospel” is about how to win all cultural wars, how to protect the right to keep an AR-15 or how to raise our voices louder than those of our opponents.

In this Holy Week, choose your “messiah” carefully. I can’t state strongly-enough the futility of aligning our passions or pledging our allegiance to the messiahs of national empires and of political-economic might. Consider the moral platform from which your messiah speaks, and the ultimate outcome of the moral values and ideology for which they may be arrested by the authorities of their time.

I pledge allegiance only to the historical Jesus the Christ, the only Son of God, whose life, suffering, crucifixion, and resurrection we remember and commemorate in this season. Jesus Christ is Lord! And he alone will restore the cosmos to what it/we are created to be.

If this season is like a dinner, what features of Christmas festivities best illustrate the Creator’s idea of the meaning of Christmas? What mindset helps us get closer to God’s story of Christmas?

In the photo, that’s me, a 5-year-old looking forward to Christmas dinner with some questions: What’s it going to be? When are we eating? Will I like it? Do I have to eat green stuff? When can I have pie? Not a lot of appreciation for what has gone into the preparation of such a feast.

In contrast, my mom, who managed the whole thing, looks forward to Christmas dinner with a very different mindset: Will the whole family be here? What combination of foods will I serve? What will the table look like? Will there be plenty for everyone?

The story and the events that comprise this complex “Christmas Dinner” include concepts like “gospel” and “incarnation.” These are ideas and terms that deserve careful, deliberate savoring, and will be increasingly appreciated by coming back to the feast over and over. Experiencing the flavours emphasized by different “chefs” will help to expand our mindset.

If the story thread of the Bible is to be believed, this is a story and an event to shake up the entire cosmos.

The story thread of the Bible requires us to allow for events that are outside of the natural material world. We have to ask ourselves: is it possible that there is another realm, or several realms of reality outside of what I see and experience with my body and senses?

In the most simple terms, the Gospel is the information, the story of Jesus the Christ: that Jesus has always existed as a person with God the Father; the Incarnation: that Jesus was born of a virgin and lived on this earth as a human expression of God himself; that he was crucified and died and was buried; that he came to life and is again at the side of the Father to rule and reign and reconcile the entire cosmos to God.

Now you can try to just gulp that down in one quick bite, or you can believe that it’s not a bite: it is a lot of long, slow meals just to get your mind and your emotions to grow into your faith and experience. That’s why we have annual festivals like Christmas, so that we come to dinner over and over.

As I would have said about one of my mom’s dinners, “If you come and eat, you’ll love the food and you’ll love my mom.”

In the same way, the more you know about Jesus the Christ the more you will respond to him in love. The more you love him the more you will be transformed by him. The more you are transformed the more you will flourish in this life and the next.

It’s a journey. I’m not trying to brainwash you; I’m encouraging you to believe that outside all of this that we see and try to understand is the one, true Creator God who exists in three persons: The Father, The Son Jesus the Christ, and the Holy Spirit. I’m hoping to persuade you that there is a story and a plan to restore this entire universe to God. You’ll want to be on the “right side of history” in relation to the story from God’s perspective.

If you’d like to watch and listen to more details of my recent synopsis of the content and purpose of the lavish “dinner” that is the Christmas story, you can find it here:

As I consider being vulnerable while attempting to share life, encouragement and hope with those in my faith community world-wide, I decided to share a video message I gave some months ago.

Today, I can’t think of anything I want to say more emphatically than what I said in this message at a local church that invited me to speak. Please take the time to listen and consider what it means to live in “The Mind of Christ” on this day.

Practicing the Mindset of Christ – YouTube

Just a few hours later, we were celebrating a short downpour of rain. This rain wasn’t carefully aimed at a few tomato root systems. This rain wasn’t strategically planned for the smaller flower patches while leaving the dry lawn for another time. And, the water meter in our basement never budged during all of it.

The rain came without the smallest effort from me, and without the slightest financial cost to me, and without the stingy limitations that seek to prevent wasted moisture. It fell without obligation to me, and without accountability for my responses or appreciation.

I relearned some things from the rain last night.

I celebrate the concept of grace in a renewed way because of that reminder. I am deeply impacted and changed by the grace I have received–much like an indiscriminate rain shower.

Today Rita and I celebrate 48 years of marriage. That’s a fresh and amazing part of this review of the meaning of grace. I’m reflecting on the emotional, physical, and spiritual health that are improved by, and dependent on, the function of grace.

Grace is being loved and accepted by someone who has many reasons to reject me. Grace is being able to remember painful experiences in a relationship and to remember hurtful words and actions without a desire to repay or to demand restitution. Grace is the skill of knowing when to work out a conflict and when to simply let it go.

In our relationship, there are so many times when grace keeps us from saying something that deserves to be said. I love that, when it protects my fragile ego from things Rita would like to critique in my life. In contrast, I often go ahead and say what I think she needs to hear in order to become a better person. I’m still learning that almost all of those words are simply for my own satisfaction. Grace is not like that.

Grace is indiscriminate in its very nature. Grace doesn’t actually change an objective reality; as in, Rita’s grace toward me does not remove my arrogance or judgmental tendencies. It only changes me when I reflect on the nature of her indiscriminate and undeserving grace. That tends to inspire more graceful responses in me.

Of course, I believe this amazing concept begins with God who described himself as gracious and compassionate. And the unexpected characteristics of the concept of grace are illustrated when it rains on the weeds and tomato plants alike.

That seemed to be a personal warning and a frightening prospect for my dad. He talked about ways of preventing such a turn of character, such a radical change in the core behaviours of apparently-virtuous men. It made him think and speak very seriously about what it is that comes out of a person’s mouth after the normal filters are gone.

A couple of years ago, I had a very serious head injury from a fall. As I was recovering, I thought about the fact that I might well have had the kind of brain damage that forever removes the cultural sensitivities and filters that keep my darkest thoughts and feelings from pouring out of my mouth.

In considering my moral portrait, I’m thinking a lot about myself and about other influential people who have been considered “moral examples” to their families, their communities, and even to the world. I’m thinking especially of the “painted portrait” that my granddaughters and grandsons may hang on their mental walls and look at for a long time.

What is, to me, most concerning is that we men naturally want to paint portraits of the achievements and accomplishments and the battles won against the enemy. And we sorta wish that those we admire in those ways would also have a little moral compass hidden away somewhere. But that doesn’t really add any brush strokes to the portrait we paint. It’s more like a fingerprint accidentally left on the back side of the canvas.

Given the contemporary stories of pastors, leaders, governors, fathers, I want to go on record with a few points. I don’t really care if most of my readers appreciate these, or not. I really care about what my wife, Rita, sees; what my daughters and sons-in-law feel; what my granddaughters think; and what my grandsons admire in my developing portrait. I believe that encapsulates the grand idea: I care what God thinks.

First point: I value and respect the wisdom and the prophetic voice of someone like Beth Moore, and her insights into the world of theology, church, denomination, and politics. Such voices must change our world; not because they are faultless, but because they draw attention to areas of blindness, abuses, ignorance and corruption. When men of influence, power, and status dismiss such voices and tell women like her to “go home,” we do so to our own peril.

The enduring “portrait” of faithful women to whom God has given a platform and a special way of communicating wisdom and perspective will last forever. Just as biological procreation is not the domain of one gender, so the call to moral excellence and virtues is also the artistry of female and male intellectual intercourse.

Second point: We men must pay close attention to the colours and media that are being applied to the canvas where our portraits are appearing. Male voices have always been abundant. We have decided which elements matter in a finished portrait. We have excelled in preserving the memory of men who leave behind a beautifully-painted portrait of wisdom, achievement, and moral example. It just seems that we’re finding that some of our portraits are being spoiled by a false sense of superiority and control, and the absence of many common virtues. And most of that is being exposed by the women who should have been speaking into the story all along.

The critical concerns expressed by female voices often don’t fully overlap with the chorus of male voices. Most Christian men seem to define an excellent “moral portrait” as one of successfully avoiding the forbidden sexual activities. In my experience, a woman’s idea of morality is more related to integrity–the harmony of words and actions–evidenced by love and empathy.

Radiant and awe-inspiring colours are a product of light. A simple prescription for an accurate and honourable moral portrait can be found in 1John 1:7: But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.

I was hanging out with an older brother to whom had been given the job of herding a group of cattle in the ditch on the side of the road in front of our farmyard. The cattle were able to find edible grass there where the last bits of moisture in the arid Kansas summer provided some green feed.

I was playing along the edge of the road when a county maintenance tractor with a ditch mower came right down the ditch we were using. I froze. I wasn’t supposed to go out onto the road. I was afraid to go down into the ditch. I froze in place.

The man driving the mower stopped his machine. “Boy, you’ve got to move! This thing will cut your legs off!” he yelled at me. I bolted to our yard, which was not far away. I rushed to the safety of my mother and told her, “That man said he was going to cut my legs off.”

I thought of that experience this morning as I was thinking of how much we seem to fear leaving our ideological ditches on either side of the road.

It seems we are losing the ability to confidently travel down the actual road—which is designed for effective forward movement. Instead, we are being trained to entrench ourselves in total opposition to most other humans and their ideas. We are learning that if we come up out of the ditch of radical thought on one side we are inexorably destined for the vile ditch on the other side.

This even happens when considering debatable church doctrines. It happens when comparing personal convictions. It is common in the tensions surrounding racism, human rights and freedoms, or political perspectives.

“We’re right. They’re wrong. The arguments on this show cannot be broken.” So goes the tagline on a daily, political-talk radio show. There is no road between the two ditches, and not the least regret for it.

I’ve heard the same sentiments in Sunday School discussions. I’ve felt the same arrogance in sermons on the radio, or even in a church publication. I’ve even been guilty of making such noises myself.

Fear of losing my position and sliding into the ditch on the other side of the road may, in fact, have some value. However, camping in the ditch on my side of the road is an equally-problematic solution. It simply provides me a false sense of confidence. It gives me the illusion of some control.

Is that why we seem to love being in the ditch on one, or another, side of the road? Yes, it’s easier to stay in the ditch than to negotiate and to compromise so that we can actually make good use of the road.

Self-confidence that is simply based on fear of something other is a worthless investment. Nothing is actually within our control, then.

Climbing up out of my ditch of protective platitudes and selective truth claims does not mean that I will be hopelessly doomed to the ignorance and evil that I think I see on the other side of road.

Can we find our way back onto the roadway and begin to make progress? Can we travel down the road without spending our energies screaming at the trolls in the ditches and under the bridges?

How do we do that? Is it all about choosing the “right” sources of information? Is it about wearing the right label of identity? Is it about getting all the facts just right?

No. It begins with a mental adjustment and a heart-level affirmation that it is the road we want to travel on. And that we will share the road with people with whom we don’t always agree.

It is the basic desire to respect others–as I would want to be respected. Respect means to hear and consider. Without respect, there is no way to speak the truth in love (an ideal we find in Scripture).

It means distancing ideologically from the outrage, the hatred, the screaming arrogance that seems to come from both the ditches—the permanent dwelling of those who define the world in terms of “enemies and allies.”

It means replacing fear with peace. It means cultivating a determination to make peace among people wherever possible and to confidently make progress down the actual road.

It means doing what we can to win our “enemies” over; not to merely conquer them.

And those of us who claim that we model our lives and our values after the life and the words of Jesus Christ can be leading the way. Is that how it appears to be?

Why do Jesus and the apostles frame the journey to both power and wisdom in terms of meekness? (Matthew 5:5; James 3:13)

My dad and mom were both rather quiet when it came to expressing opinions and judgments to others. My dad liked to think about things, and take some time with a topic before delivering a rant or strong opinion. Not always, but usually.

I watched the same traits in my numerous, older siblings. I learned something I didn’t realize until later: that our intuitive responses to a topic or to a person are often wrong or, at the least, shortsighted. If we think of this process properly, it’s a journey in gathering information while in the pursuit of wisdom.

That means putting the desired outcomes in a different category. It means believing that an outcome that is not the result of wisdom is not a satisfactory outcome.

Another, related, lesson I gained from my family: wealth does not come by intuition or by windfall. It’s a journey with a work ethic. Unfortunately, many needy individuals pursue wealth through lottery tickets or game shows.

In the same way, many pursue insights and knowledge through intuition. Apparently, for many Christians intuition is indistinguishable from a “word from God.”

Intuition is worth a dollar. Wisdom is worth a million dollars.

A prophecy is worth a dollar. Wisdom is worth a million dollars.

A political victory is worth a dollar. Wisdom is worth a million dollars.

A tribal identity is worth a dollar. Wisdom is worth a million dollars.

Being right is worth a dollar. Wisdom is worth…. You know the rest.

I believe God speaks to people. Today. But after recent prophecies and certainties published all over the internet and in other media, I’ve nearly lost my faith in the likelihood of anyone getting a reliable, “fresh” word from God.

I believe that sometimes opinion writers, analysts, and talk show hosts get it right. But after watching how Christians substitute values and perspective and priorities based on the information given by people whose lives are not aligned with biblical wisdom, I have nearly lost my faith in the Christian version of social realities.

It seems we’re usually too lazy to pursue wisdom instead of instant knowledge—with an instant stance on social issues.

Many of these reckless prophecies and godly-sounding analyses concerning our times and our futures have come from Christian leaders with a platform that impacts a lot of careless followers.

And when these prophecies and analyses prove to be ridiculous and false? The justifiable response is, “it’s because of our enemies. Once we dominate our enemies, this reality will be fulfilled.”

I wish we could all back off and arrest our quick responses to people and events. At the same time, I recognize that intuition and first impressions have an important place in our judgments. It’s not easy.

The pursuit of wisdom is a more demanding journey. Most of the time, we are too lazy to take that journey. It’s much more convenient to grab someone’s opinions, add our intuitions, and then just run with that tribal identity.

A warning: When we adopt our perspectives on reality from those who are not wise by biblical standards, we may well choose to be fools.

Information is not enough. Everyone has access to the information. Wisdom is way beyond that.

Outcomes and results are not enough. Good outcomes can also be achieved by treachery, treason, crime.

By what standards do we define wisdom? I begin with the “God of all wisdom” and his revelation through the Scriptures. The pursuit of wisdom is a theme from one end of the biblical story to the other.

The biblical descriptions of wisdom and its incredible, sovereign role are numerous and surprising.

The Apostle James refers to “the meekness of wisdom” in this foundational description of wisdom—where he contrasts “wisdom from above” with “wisdom from below.”

Wisdom from above: We really can, and must, learn to value wisdom over information; and to evaluate knowledge by its human sources; and to determine that true information does not always result in true wisdom, that desirable outcomes are not always the evidence of underlying wisdom.

“But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.” Read the whole passage here.

If you wish to watch my recent message, “How Did I Lose My Way?” check out my YouTube channel.

These are the opening words of what we call the Gospel, the Good News. Among Biblical quotations, those words are probably most often quoted and most easily recognized.

But sometimes it doesn’t seem as if God actually loves the world.

I could show you images and clips of news that paint this world in the darkest terms, with not a lot of hope. Even with some bright spots in the story, it seems we often desperately wish that there were an escape tunnel where we could just run and get away from the terrible, daily, depressing news.

This is the very world that God so loves. It’s not the first time that things have looked so dark, and felt so desperate to so many people. The cycle has always been there: seasons of hope and optimism followed too soon by seasons of more misery and despair. God so loves the world, even in such times. Maybe especially in such times.

Since the beginning, humans have complained that God does not deliver from all trouble and pain. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that God loves the world at all. Because he allows it to go through these cycles.

Bertrand Russell, a philosopher, said that our only choice for dealing with the injustices and suffering of this world is to build our lives on the “firm foundation of unyielding despair.”

“Unyielding despair?” Is that the best we can hope for? Do we have to take his word for it? Or is there another word? Are there other choices?

God so loved the world that through Jesus the Christ he entered into his own creation once again—living among his creation and suffering with the creation that hurts, that waits, that cries out for justice and redemption.

Jesus the Christ was anointed by God as a human to live the pain and suffering of this world without first eliminating it. Because of his great love, he experienced and lived humiliation and discomfort from the beginning of his life.

In the greatest expression of his love he submitted himself to the cruelty and death that humans often live by—when despair is all we have left . He felt the depths of pain and the realization that God would not deliver him from it at all.

The human birth of Jesus and the human resurrection of Jesus are the ultimate evidence of how God shows his love: not through instant deliverance from every and all suffering, but through the presence and closeness of relationship and identity. And most importantly through the ultimate deliverance from the power and rule of death.

So what are the actual outcomes of love? Will that love eradicate and replace our despair?

His birth as a human and his resurrection as a human assure us that justice for all, life that never ends, and ultimately satisfying joy are the outcomes of “For God so loved the world…”

Merry Christmas to each of you!

The tears, the explanations, the sense of loss to the community had a huge impact on what I considered for my own life and beliefs. I knew that I never wanted to be the subject of such a grief process and such a separation from a community I valued. At that age, I did not have the courage to openly resist or challenge the system.

The result was that I became very skilled in undercover “operations”, learning how to spread my wings and try new things without becoming the object of any public censuring.

As I review a lifetime of experiences and observations about church practice and methods in relating to those who resist the systems, I find I have a very different set of interpretive lenses than I did at age 12.

That’s because I see something that I wouldn’t really acknowledge for a long time: That the church and individual Christians may actually be responsible for cases where a person rejects the church and is completely disillusioned with the “faith.”

The conventional wisdom among most Christians is that we should do our best, and if others reject the faith as we proclaim it, that is entirely their problem. They alone will suffer the consequences.

Actually, some of the harshest words of Jesus suggest to us quite a different scenario. Jesus seems to clearly put responsibility for others’ perception and openness to Jesus’ message on those who claim to embody that message.

Jesus: “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea.” From Matthew 18.

Jesus: “But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you shut the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. For you neither enter yourselves nor allow those who would enter to go in.” From Matthew 23.

Most Christians I know do not accept any responsibility whatsoever for the anger and reactions of those who reject our faith. However, sometimes the culpability leads right back to us—those of us who do the speaking and acting in the church community.

The harshest words and judgments of Jesus were not aimed at sins like sexual immorality or even murder. He used most of his harsh words to condemn hypocrisy and religious abuses.

In my lifetime, I have often seen the church, or individual Christians, take strong and decisive action against young people who “rebel” against the system. I have never once observed the church, or individuals, publicly ask themselves in a serious way: “Are we, am I, responsible for the loss of faith and trust in that person?”

A close relative of mine rejected the church and the faith for many years. It turns out that the lead pastor in that church excommunicated my relative and others—all the while hiding personal issues of substance abuse, hypocrisy, deception, and spiritual abuses. The church, the conference, and fellow leaders all ignored the sin in that leader and endorsed the decisive excommunication of this youth who dared to resist the strict rules of the church.

How very different might be the outcomes in the lives of those who have been wounded and even destroyed by the hypocrisy and duplicity in the message and systems of the church—if only the sins of the leaders had first been addressed. Many youth and onlookers would surely have viewed the church’s message and the church’s systems through very different lenses.

At one of those times when Mom had cornered us with the evidence of some misbehaviour, I was describing to her how Sanford had done such wrong. As best he could, my 4-year-old brother tried to set the record straight by declaring to me, “But you’re even worser!”

I’m sure he was right. Even at a preschool age, I already knew how to try to minimize my “lesser” sins by exaggerating his “greater” crimes.

It is so disturbing to me when I hear public figures try to shift attention from their own character flaws, their moral failures, and their disgusting hypocrisy. It makes me stop and notice the many ways in which I do similar things inside my head, or expose my dark side with my critical comments of these very people.

Why is it that we feel so much better about our own failings when we compare them to others?

Why is it that we join in dismissing the disgusting actions and character traits of those from our own tribe, as we harshly condemn some similar pattern in those whom we consider to be from the enemy tribe?

A culture of selective judgmental-ism has been adopted by our society, and by the majority of Christians, as well. It is considered a normal and approved function of society. Just look at the ways that Christian ministry agencies have covered for their star ministry figures, trying to control the damage to their corporate image and story.

What do we do about this?

We can begin right within our own hearts. We can determine to call our own sins what they are, without any comparison to those who do “worser” things.

How do we know when we are already in a rut that violates the premises of Biblical and Godly responses to the behaviours and character displays of our leaders?

It’s our starting point that matters. We can choose to set aside loyalties to parties, to viewpoints, to denominations, to family biases, to racial identities. We can then determine to begin our judgment of ourselves with the values and the boundaries that Jesus Christ taught and lived–and that the Apostles affirmed.

Once we have the integrity to judge ourselves impartially–without comparisons to others–then we are in a much better frame of character to consider the qualifications of those leaders to whom we assign authority. We will modify our loud talk and our uncritical support of those who have made a mockery of their spiritual authority roles in our society and our religious institutions.

And maybe the world will regain some respect for the integrity of the Church and the Christians who claim to live by the values and the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. And maybe the youngest generation will regain some hope that the Church actually matters, after all.