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Musings on Justice, Mercy, Love -- and Beth Moore

I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels that our world has become distressingly polarized. I've always thought of myself as fairly conservative, but lately I find myself standing more and more in the center, a center I'm having a hard time locating. The strange thing is that this migration seems to have happened without my really moving. My views are more or less the same as they were ten or twenty years ago, but everything around me has changed. The voices seem more strident, viewpoints more extreme. We've lost our ability to find common ground. Just look at the way Ellen DeGeneres was attacked for calling George W. Bush a friend. Come on, people. When did it become wrong to be friends with someone you disagree with?

This morning I was thinking about the nature of justice. When we believe our cause is just, we feel better about ourselves. We pat ourselves on the back for taking the 'right' stand. To be sure, justice is important. The fight against social injustice is necessary and good. The world needs people like William Wilberforce, Susan B. Anthony, and Nelson Mandela. But what strikes me about our sense of justice today is that it seems particularly heightened on both the far right and the far left. Just hear me out with this.

Both extremes have a tendency to feel the justice of their cause so deeply that ideals like love, mercy, grace, and compassion can easily get pushed out of the picture. When our view of justice is not infused with love, unforgiveness and intolerance becomes acceptable. Judgment, control and even rage become normal. It becomes us versus them, right versus wrong, and we put up walls to protect our little ideological fiefdoms. Consider the backlash against a viral video of Texas murder victim Botham Jean's brother extending forgiveness to his brother's killer. Friends, there should never be a backlash against forgiveness. Honor justice, yes. But always elevate and embrace forgiveness. It is rare.

Consider this for a moment. People are often quick to stand for justice but equally quick to leave love and mercy standing on the sidelines. Everybody understands justice. It makes sense to our human understanding of right and wrong. As Jesus hung on the cross, it would have been completely understandable for him to call down wrath upon his persecutors. But he did not. Instead, he did the unthinkable. He extended mercy and forgiveness to the people who crucified him. Humanly speaking, that makes no sense. It turns our human understanding of justice on its head, and it places love firmly at the center of the Gospel. Love is not a liberal or conservative theology; it is the core, the very center of Christianity...at least it's supposed to be.

So this brings me to something that left me speechless this week. If you follow Christian media of any sort, you probably saw it. It was a video of a conference in which well-known Bible teacher John MacArthur and others on stage were playing a word association game. The moderator brought up well-known Bible teacher Beth Moore, which quickly prompted John MacArthur to tell her to "Go home!" (She was not present at the conference, but his comment seemed to imply that she belongs at home, not in the church.) He and the other men present proceeded to laugh at and deride Ms. Moore, calling her a narcissist and hawker, all while justifying their comments by appealing to what they claim is Biblical truth, that women should not speak in church.

Do you really think that Jesus would have sat in a room with his disciples mocking other people, let alone a female follower? Yet, Mr. MacArthur seems to believe his cause is just, that he is protecting the church from the error of allowing women to preach. I disagree with his Biblical position, but even if I didn't, I would still be grieved. What bothers me most is to see a Christian proclaiming what he believes to be just and right, while so clearly acting without love. I have read other comments by Christians suggesting that Beth Moore deserves the wrath of God for her rebellion and witchcraft. Say what? Lord have mercy, seriously. This is what pushes people away from Jesus!

As a woman, why on earth would I want to be part of something that tells me I don't have a voice? Even more so, why would I want to be part of something that seeks to put me in a box of someone  else's design. But this is not Christianity. Jesus respected women. He listened to women. He loved women. For heaven's sake, the Samaritan woman in John 4 is the first person to whom Jesus reveals himself as Messiah. Did he consider her unworthy to carry the message? Nope.

I have great respect for Beth Moore, and I hope that she will extend forgiveness to Mr. MacArthur. But I wish we could all stop focusing so much on being 'right' and think more about what it means to be love -- and this applies as much to the person wearing the 'Love Wins' t-shirt who won't speak to his Trump supporting neighbor as it does to the conservative Christian who has decided to despise her liberal-minded coworker without ever attempting to get to know him. Truth and justice are Biblical principles, but they can become toxic in anyone's hands when they are not rooted in God's love. This is where righteousness begins to look a lot like self-righteousness. To be sure, we'll always have differences of opinion with those around us, but we mustn't forget that we are all human beings created in God's image and worthy of love.

Paul knew what he was talking about when he wrote that love is the greatest virtue, for without this we are nothing but a resounding gong or clanging cymbal (1 Cor 13:1). There's already too much of this kind of noise in our world. So how about when dealing with our fellow humans, we turn to patience, humility and forgiveness instead? These always bear the mark of love. So whether you're on the right, or the left, or trying to figure our where the heck you're standing at the moment -- whether you're a Christian or a non-Christian -- can we all just try a little harder to act in love? When love becomes a natural reflex, I believe that true justice always follows.

When You Have Everything and Nothing

Every so often I reread the Chronicles of Narnia. Why? They're kids' books, right? Well, I have adored them since childhood, but I can honestly say I get much more out of them as an adult. C.S. Lewis said, "A children's story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children's story in the slightest." Using that logic, Narnia must be listed among the very best of children's literature.

Narnia fans all seem to have a favorite, one that particularly speaks to their heart. For my husband, it's The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. He loves Eustace, the boy who becomes a dragon and can only become a boy again through an encounter with Aslan, the Great Lion. This reminds my husband of his own healing journey. For me, it's The Silver Chair. Its overarching theme of being freed from darkness and spiritual bondage resonates strongly within me. But last night I was reading the final book of the series, The Last Battle, when something struck me anew. The events center around the last days of the Kingdom of Narnia as a conniving ape sets the end of all things in motion through the manipulation and deception of the kingdom's citizens, some of whom have been coerced into slavery. The ape tries to deny that the humble Narnians have been sold into bondage by assuring these changes are for everyone's benefit.

There! You see!...It's all arranged. And all for your own good. We'll be able, with the money you earn, to make Narnia a country worth living in. There'll be oranges and bananas pouring in -- and roads and big cities and schools and offices and whips and muzzles and saddles and cages and kennels and prisons -- Oh everything!

The first to respond is a wise old bear, who immediately sees the folly of such an idea. But we don't want all those things...We want to be free. And we want to hear Aslan speak. The ape's rebuke is swift, calling him a "fat, stupid old Bear."

The ape's words feel eerily apt in today's world. We have everything, don't we? Good and bad, it's all available to us -- all manner of things to occupy our time, energy, and passions. And yet, how many of us feel content? How many of us feel free?

The old bear is the only one brave enough to speak what he knows in his heart. Freedom's value far exceeds that of worldly 'progress'. It is possible to have everything and yet have nothing of lasting value. Do you ever feel like nothing in this world truly satisfies? Do you wonder who clipped your wings or where your sense of adventure has gone? Do you sometimes ask yourself if the entire world has gone mad?

But what can be done? Isn't that just life? I love that last part of the old bear's statement. And we want to hear Aslan speak. In our hearts, we long to hear someone speak truth, to put everything in its proper place. But too often all we hear is noise. And the noise can sound a lot like the conniving ape, hurling accusations in our faces -- telling us we're not entitled to an opinion or we're not seeing things clearly. But in our hearts we know. We know there is something else, something solid, something true.

The voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice of the Lord is majestic. The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars...He makes Lebanon leap like a calf.

Psalm  29:4-6

Freedom is too precious to discard in exchange for any perceived peripheral benefit. And yet, we humans are terribly good at enslaving ourselves. There are so very many ways to enslave ourselves, too! Addictions, greed, political systems, religious legalism, co-dependance, unforgiveness, hatred, judgment, fear -- the list is inexhaustible. But we were created for freedom. And we were created for relationship. Not just any relationship, but one in which we can hear the voice of truth -- the voice of love. When we begin to hear this voice, we begin to experience freedom.

Ask God what he wants to say to you today. Let him speak the words that shatter lies and break chains. Let him fill the emptiness with the substance of his love. I promise his voice is stronger than the voices of chaos and confusion that are given so much latitude today. And his words NEVER lead to bondage.







Photo credit: Ray Grau

My Heart Breaks for Greta Thunberg

We've all seen her this week. The young woman, a girl really, who is passionately fighting climate change. Many have praised her for her vision and courage. Others have criticized her for taking a place that she is not yet experienced enough to have earned. Those who have given her that pedestal, everyone from world leaders to her own parents, have perhaps in equal parts received both accolades and derision. The only thing this makes me feel is sadness.

I'm not writing this to make any sort of statement about climate change. (Can we all just agree to take better care of our planet?) I'm writing this because my heart hurts for this young woman. Many have noted that Greta has Asperger's Syndrome and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, as well as Selective Mutism. When I read that, it was the OCD that jumped off the page at me. As someone who has struggled with severe OCD, I know that there is a lot of misunderstanding about what this disorder actually is. It doesn't mean you are "particular" about certain things. It doesn't mean that you like to organize closets or straighten picture frames. And it isn't a funny little quirk.

The National Institute of Mental Health describes OCD as a "chronic and long-lasting disorder in which a person has uncontrollable, reoccurring thoughts (obsessions) and behaviors (compulsions) that he or she feels the urge to repeat over and over." Generally, these obsessions are fear-based, and Greta seems to be driven greatly by fear. 

I can't imagine what it would have been like if, in the midst of the irrational thoughts being driven by my OCD, there was no one to come alongside me and gently say, "It's not really as bad as all that. It's going to be okay." I needed that assurance. I needed to be tethered to reality. To be trapped in my own uncontrollable and unending fear-cycle with no one to speak peace or hope into my heart sounds like a living Hell. My heart breaks for Greta.

Her words to world leaders in Davos speak volumes. I want you to panic. I want you to feel the fear I feel every day. I had those days too, Greta. I wanted people around me to recognize and understand what I was feeling. On one level, I believed that if others acknowledged my fears, if they felt what I felt, I would feel less alone, less (dare I use the word) crazy. But at the same time, that was not what I needed. I needed people to come by my side and speak life and love to me -- to NOT agree with my panicked, fear-wrought thoughts of disaster and death. I would never have wanted to be thrust onto a pedestal in the midst of my illness, and I have a hard time seeing how this can be healing for Greta.

Oh Greta, I feel your pain. I really do. How it eats you from the inside out. How it compels you to act. How it leaves you feeling trapped. And I want you to know freedom. 

But more fear is not what the world needs -- and it's not what will heal you either, Greta. The world is a mess in so many ways, but fear can never be the answer. We need to dig deeper and find the hope that we carry within; and yes, I know that you've said you don't want our hope. But that's no way to live. The human heart withers when bound by fear. We need to receive and lavishly spread the one thing that is life-giving. There is no substitute for LOVE. It is the thing that gives hope. And I pray, Greta, that you would experience the perfect love that casts out fear. May your heart and mind be free.

An Invitation to Fullness

Beautiful friend,

Do you feel empty? Are you lonely? Have you experienced loss? Are you walking through grief? Do you feel like something is missing, but you don't know what? Does the inside of you ache for more?

Every one of us can answer yes to at least one of these questions at some point in our lives. It's part of being human. We can't avoid pain and heartache. But we also don't have to face it alone. Today my heart aches for you to know that emptiness is never God's will for us.

Just months before I became a Christian, I sat in my dorm room window staring out into a rainy night at the lights of a Walgreen's parking lot. I felt completely empty. Cold. Just weeks into my freshman year, I'd contracted an unusually severe case of mono which had left me sliding in and out of consciousness in a hospital room just off campus. No one knew I was there. I was 18, so the hospital did not bother to notify my parents for several days. Following my hospitalization, I spent a month at home recuperating. Upon returning to school, I felt completely alone. Campus life had gone on without me. My new sorority had held dances, overnights, and other bonding events. I had missed out. I had no real connections with anyone. What was I even doing there? I certainly didn't know a god who could meet my needs. How many of us have had those moments? And maybe it's a lot longer than a moment.

This morning as I sat on my patio reading and journaling, I was struck by the number of times the word fullness is found in scripture. When I suddenly notice a particular word jumping out at me, I know it's time to stop and ponder its significance.

As I dug further, Ephesians 1:23 really grabbed me. Paul refers to the Church as the fullness of him who fills everything in every way. Well, my experience of the Body of Christ hasn't always felt like this. At its worst, it felt like a bunch of empty, hurting people puffing themselves up by sucking the life out of everyone around them. Not surprisingly, this left me unengaged and licking my numerous wounds. Maybe this has been your experience. Maybe you ran away from the Church because the very people who were supposed to love you were the same ones who kicked you in the teeth. Who could blame you for running away? Who could blame you for feeling empty and let down? Your experience inside the Church shouldn't leave you feeling like I did sitting in that dorm room window -- cold and alone.

And yet, as part of the Body of Christ, we are supposed to experience fullness. The problem is that the Church so rarely embodies the love that is God himself. Many of us who cut ourselves off from the Church also cut ourselves off from God. We may find ourselves asking how good God could actually be if the people who supposedly follow him are a bunch of creeps. But friend, don't let the failures of other humans be the reason for removing yourself from the One who is love, the One who wants to fill you.

God calls us to live in community -- and He himself IS community -- Father, Son, Holy Spirit. His is a community of perfect love and fullness, and it is this community into which we are called. This is the place from which we are to live. The more we live from this place, the more we are able to carry this love to those around us -- to expand this community of love right here on earth. When we are full, others benefit from the overflow. We get to be a vessel of his love, filling those around us. And this is what the Church should look like -- a place where the empty can come to be filled.

You see, we love because he first loved us. (1 John 4:19)  If we don't allow ourselves to be filled with his love, we can't possibly love others well. So much of the Church doesn't know it is loved! So many Christians are stuck at the cross, digging their heels in and refusing to step into resurrection. Friends, the cross is the place where we leave our sins, our burdens, our garbage. We aren't meant to stay there wallowing in our own filth. We are meant to leave all the junk behind so that we can be filled. Filled with love, from which flows joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control.

Maybe you belong to a church where this is a reality. I rejoice with you! If not, I encourage you to let God be the one to fill you and then carry that love back into your hurting church. Bring forgiveness and hope. Bring encouragement and humility. When you feel empty or dry, go right back to your heavenly Father and ask for more. He is always willing for you to be full. This is the only way to see a Church that is healed and whole. And the hurting world very much needs a healed Church right now.

Will you accept the invitation?


Photo credit: Fred Moon

Being a victim is real...but so is victory

Have you ever thought about the words victim and victory? I find it interesting that they both have the root v-i-c-t. Stick with me while I get all nerdy on you for a second. Victim comes from the Latin word victima, which means "person or animal killed as a sacrifice." The actual origin of the word victima is uncertain, but I'll stand with the great poet Ovid who notes its similarity to the word victus,  meaning "conquered or defeated." On the flip side, we see that victory comes from the Latin word victoria, which is derived from vincere, meaning "to overcome, conquer."

We all have experiences in our lives when we are victims. We may find ourselves on the receiving end of an act of violence, or we may be harmed by circumstances beyond our control. Many of us have scars, physical and emotional, that remind us of these events. Having spent nearly half a century on this earth, I have my fair share of visible and invisible scars. The one on my left hand is from a hiking accident in which our entire family came much too close to being struck by lightning. The ones on my right hand are from a man siccing his dog on me as I attempted to deliver voter registration information to his door. I have another, that most won't see, from a lumpectomy. And then there's the one between my eyes from when I did a header down the stairs at 18-months-old. Scars are indeed reminders, but what they allow us to remember depends upon our perspective.

Jesus is the perfect example of a victim. He was, quite literally, a human sacrifice. He did not in any way deserve his fate. And yet, he died in the most horrific way possible. I've always found it interesting that he bore his scars even after his resurrection. Those scars validate his story. They attest not just to his brutal death, but to the power of his resurrection. He suffered, and his suffering was real. But his triumph is real, too!

Think about Thomas' reaction in John 20:25 to being told that Jesus is alive. Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe. The physical scars are the evidence that what Jesus did was real. He wasn't some ghost having a bit of a laugh with the disciples. He overcame the impossible. Jesus is not only the perfect victim, he is also the perfect victor. He overcame death, not just for himself, but for all of us.

My scars are also the validation of my story and God's place in it. God rescued my family from the face of a mountain during a ferocious storm. Being attacked by a dog was traumatic, but the event led directly to me getting a wonderful job. The lumpectomy scar reminds me of a time when I felt God's peace so deeply that I couldn't experience fear. This is where I choose to focus when I see my scars. When we understand that our scars are merely temporal, whereas Jesus' victory is eternal, the scars take on a different significance, pointing us to triumph.

Show the world those scars. Don't let them be a source of shame, and don't pretend they don't exist. They are part of your story. But don't forget that Jesus' story didn't end with those scars and neither does yours! You have a choice. Victim was never meant to be your identity. I love what Lisa Bevere says. "We need to stop being the professionally wounded."

So will you be conquered, or will you conquer? Do you choose to remain a victim or do you choose to become a victor? It's okay if that victory takes time. Even Jesus spent three days in the grave. Lazarus spent four. Go easy on yourself, the timeframe is in God's hands. I promise that your heavenly Father will be with you in the waiting, providing comfort and leading you on toward that place of triumph, if you'll let him. Are you willing to let your scars tell a different story? Are you willing to trust that your story is not over? Your resurrection is closer than you think, and I'm cheering you on.

Photo credit: Brian Patrick Tagalog

Got Oxygen?

I recently came home from Madagascar, and as often happens on these trips, I arrived home with a lovely bug. I rarely get stomach ailments, but respiratory stuff is my Achilles heel, and this trip was no exception. I'd started the trip on the tail end of a throat infection for which I'd been taking antibiotics, but it seemed like I never really got over it. I pushed through the trip with a backpack full of Advil and cough drops; but poor air quality, little rest, and the onset of a cold left me feeling like, well...where's the poop emoji when you need it?

I spent all of last week trying my darnedest to get well, but there's only so much Throat Coat tea you can consume before you need to suck it up and go back to the doctor. So Friday morning, I reluctantly dragged myself over to the doctor hoping I wasn't wasting her time.

I've been asthmatic my whole life but really have not had any serious breathing issues for the last several years. And praise God for that! Nevertheless, I know what an asthma attack feels like, and I generally know when I need to go to the emergency room. So I was kind of stunned when the nurse stuck the pulse ox monitor on my finger and it showed that my oxygen saturation looked more like that of a lifelong coal miner. The nurse and I both looked at the screen with our heads cocked to one side and uttered a collective hmmm.

The doctor listened to my lungs and confirmed that my infection was aggravating my asthma, so I left the office with another round of antibiotics and some good old steroids. Now, nothing about this scenario was new for me except that this time I had absolutely no idea how sick I was. How on earth did I not know that I was getting about the same amount of oxygen as someone on a high altitude hike? Well, that would certainly explain something about my energy level.

Friends, how often in our spiritual lives are we getting by on so much less than we really need? We tell ourselves we're fine, that we just need to tough it out, and we continue to walk through each day feeling tired and depleted and maybe more than a little grumpy. We don't even realize that we're not really breathing, at least not freely. We get used to functioning on so much less than what is available to us. Living on less becomes normal. But this is not the way it's supposed to be.

My friend Niki Hardy has a new book aptly titled Breathe Again coming out in August. I had the opportunity to read an advance copy, and it's a wonderful read. It made me wonder how many of us feel like we can't catch a breath -- like life has knocked the wind out of us and we just can't recover. I know I've been there, and not just with the way I'm feeling physically right now. Let's be honest. Life can suck sometimes. And sometimes there is absolutely nothing we can do to make our circumstances any better. But even in the midst of pain and struggle, there is a source of life-giving breath -- the spiritual oxygen we need.

God isn't waiting for you to toughen up and sort things out. He never told anyone to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. He gets no pleasure from seeing you struggle day after day. He isn't like that. Let me say that again -- he is NOT like that. If your day finds you lying on the kitchen floor literally begging for mercy and asking where God is, that's okay. He's happy to meet you right there on the kitchen floor. How do I know? Because I've been there. Several years ago, in the midst of chronic illness, I finally reached a place where I couldn't hold on with my own strength. I was suffocating under fear and anxiety. But when I let go, I discovered that God was right there to catch me, to breathe life back into me. It didn't make the pain instantly disappear, but it allowed me to look up -- to look at the one who sustains me, to draw my strength from him. He is the one who gives "life and breath and everything else" (Acts 17:25), so thinking I was going to sort things out through my own positive thinking or strong will was inevitably going to fail.

If you're feeling depleted and defeated, let me encourage you. There is one who wants to breathe life back into you, to give you oxygen. There is one who doesn't want you to walk this path alone. There is one who calls you to look up.

There's been one song stuck in my head all week, and it's a great one. Lauren Daigle's "Look Up Child" has such a great message, so as far as earworms go, I'll take it. But have you heard the poem that was inspired by the song, written by Channell Warren at Folsom Prison? I hope this encourages you to look up today.

Lauren Daigle - Folsom Prison (02.24.19)