Young Christians lament injustice

Last night, I was privileged to lead hundreds of young Christians in a time of lament as part of the Poverty and Advocacy track at Urbana 2009. We came together to cry out to God on behalf of those suffering from injustice and oppression, and particularly, as part of the Human Wrong Initiative, on behalf of millions of children trapped in modern slavery: in forced prostitution, forced labor, or recruited to be child soldiers. We came together to mourn the wrong that we see in the world, following the biblical precedents of the psalmists, of the prophets, and of Jesus, in engaging with God in prayer to seek change.

My role was to prepare the way for lament: to lay the biblical foundations, to provide a framework for engaging in lament, and to encourage a safe environment in which lament could take place. The rest was up to the students and God.

And boy, did we meet with God …

One of the last points that I made was that biblical lament stirs us to action and partnership with God. In Luke 19, Jesus wept over Jerusalem. He cried, “Oh, if you only knew the things that make for peace …” And then he went and cleared the temple. My prayer for those who engaged last night is that they use that session as a launching pad to do great and mighty things in the service of the kingdom of God.

[You can find recorded webcasts of the main Urbana 09 events here.]

A Boy is Shot and I Wonder Why I Do What I Do

Last night I walked down 14th Street NW, past Columbia Ave where a police car was parked, blocking entry to the street; and I watched people milling about, heading home after work. A wave of emotion hit me like a sucker-punch as I wondered how many of them knew that they were walking past the place where, two nights previously, nine year-old Oscar Fuentes was shot and killed.

I whispered a prayer for Oscar’s grieving family, and as I did so, I was reminded with startling clarity of a few of the reasons I do what I do:

Because I believe that the God I serve weeps over every life that is lost—including a nine year-old boy named Oscar Fuentes—I live and work for a world where every person is valued and honored for the image of God within him or her, regardless of how smudged and tainted this image has become (Genesis 1-3).

Because I believe that when Jesus told us to pray that God’s kingdom would come on earth—of which the evidence would be God’s will done on earth as in heaven (Matthew 6:10)—he wanted us to envision a world where there are no more tears, where mourning and crying and pain are no more (Revelation 21), I seek to live and work with the Spirit who is already at work in our world to see this come to pass, as elusive and impossible as this may be this side of Christ’s return.

Because I believe that day of the Lord—when nations shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks (Isaiah 2:4)—was inaugurated by the coming of Jesus, I live and work for a world characterized by a peace that is not simply an absence of violence and war but a wholeness of relationships with God, with others, with oneself, and with creation.

Because I believe that the redemption and salvation that came with Jesus Christ are not just a personal gift but a calling to a life that places others before ourselves (Philippians 2), I live and work for a world in which those who have not and cannot experience the many freedoms that I have may know those same freedoms.

“How long, O Lord?” the psalmists lament on many, many, many occasions. And for good reason: we live in the interim between Christ’s resurrection and his return, in the painful in-between. There remains much that is broken and sin-stained, and often we groan with creation as we hope for the promises to come (Romans 8).

But when I start feeling paralyzed by the sheer size of the challenges facing those of us who seek to live out the kingdom of God on earth, when I start wondering why I’m doing what I’m doing, when I get a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of things that are in need of repair and redemption, I look at the picture of Oscar Fuentes, newly stuck up on my wall next to pictures of my nieces and nephews, aged between 18 months and 13 years.

I remember that God so loved the world that he sent his only Son to save us all (John 3:16-17), that we might have life abundantly (John 10:10), and in this blessing we might carry out the ancient commission to be a blessing to others (Genesis 12:1-3). And I remember why I do what I do.

“From everyone to whom much is given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.” (Luke 12:48)

A prayer for vision

O God,

We cry out to you for the things that are on your heart: for peace, for justice, for love, for holiness. These are far too scarce in the world you have entrusted to us. Bring about your purposes; as you have done in ways often subtle and unseen, do again in this generation.

In this time of hopelessness, send your hope. For we are longing, groaning with all of creation, desperate for you to act, to move–through us and apart from us. We trust that you are faithful, that you are active, as you always have been.

We have strayed far from you, in thought and word and deed; we have misrepresented you to the world. But we praise and thank you for your abundant grace that works even through our misled and misguided methods.

You will provide, though we don’t know how.

You will bring peace, though we can’t see how.

You will bring your kingdom on earth, and we can’t wait to see the fullness of that day.

Amen.

Written November 12, 2006.

Forming a Theology of Ecology

Today is Blog Action Day 2009, an annual event that unites the world’s bloggers in posting about the same issue on the same day. The aim of the organizers, including Change.org, is to raise awareness of said issue, and in so doing, to trigger a global discussion. This year’s issue: Climate Change.

So here’s my take on the story of environmental stewardship, according to the Bible:

God created the earth. (Genesis 1:1)

God created human beings. (Genesis 1:26)

God told human beings to look after the earth. (Genesis 1:28)

Human beings screwed up. (A large portion of the rest of the Bible.)

And that’s that.

Or at least, that’s the (over-)simplified précis.

A theology of ecology, a theology of creation care, is part of—and is consistent with—a grander biblical theology, woven through with themes that can be found throughout Scripture:

It’s about stewardship, about being respectful and responsible with the resources and the gifts that God has given us in his creation. It’s about sharing in God’s appreciation for the world which he called “very good” (Genesis 1:31), and recognizing, “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded” (Luke 12:48).

It’s about the poor, those who have not are often the hardest hit by the excesses of those who have. The writer of Proverbs said, “Those who oppress the poor insult their Maker” (14:31), and even if we’re not directly treating them badly, such an injunction should at least make us think twice about how we live.

It’s about relationship and community, about a harmonious and healthy interaction not only with the people around us but with the world around us, realizing that what we do with the latter will always impact the former at some level. Jesus said that loving one’s neighbor was akin to loving God (Matthew 22:36-40), so if we love God as we claim to, we will love those with whom we share in the gift of God’s creation.

It’s about children, those to whom Jesus said the kingdom of God belonged (Mark 10:14). I have two nieces and three nephews, aged between 18 months and 13 years, and the world they will inherit depends on what we do with it. To quote a Native American proverb (yes, I know it’s not in the Bible!), “We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children.” Put more bluntly, those that follow us have to deal with our mess. Jesus values children; if I love Jesus, I will also value children, and I will care about what I leave to them.

It’s about justice, about recognizing that when a small proportion of the earth’s population exhaust its resources and the rest have to face the brunt of the consequences, that isn’t right. And when the God you worship, serve and follow, is described as a God of justice,* and when you’re encouraged to “do justice” (Micah 6:8) … well, it should probably make a difference on how we live, shouldn’t it?

Because, on the most encompassing level of all, it’s about God: the one who made the earth and everything in it (Psalm 24:1). Wendell Berry wrote, “our destruction of nature is not just bad stewardship, or stupid economics, or a betrayal of family responsibility; it is the most horrid blasphemy” (Sex, Economy, Freedom, and Community, 98). Whatever we do with what God has made or given—human or otherwise—is a reflection on what we think of God, the Maker and Giver.

I think the world might look very different if we lived like we knew that.

In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth … God saw all that he had made, and indeed, it was very good.

(Genesis 1:1, 31)

* I’m not going to post all the references to God’s justice, because that would take up too much space (which says something in itself), but here are a few: Deuteronomy 10:17-19; Leviticus 25; Psalm 37:28, 103:6; Amos 5:23-24; Jeremiah 22:16; Isaiah 58:6-10. You can read more on God as a God of justice here.