From Stone to Sword: Facing the Shadow of Shame in King Arthur and the Garden

The 2017 film "King Arthur: Legend of the Sword" takes the Arthurian legend to a gritty, visceral place, using our familiar hero's tale as a powerful metaphor for the devastating consequences of childhood trauma. Arthur, ripped from his birthright and raised in the brutal underworld of Londinium, embodies the internal struggle of someone buried beneath the weight of shame and violence. His story, though fantastical, mirrors the universal human experience of betrayal, its rippling effects, and the potential for redemption.

The film draws a striking parallel with the fall of humanity in Genesis 3. Arthur's uncle, Vortigern, embodies the serpent's deceit, orchestrating a bloody coup that casts Merlin and the mages into hiding and leaving Arthur a witness to the carnage. Like Adam and Eve's expulsion from Eden, Arthur is thrust into a harsh reality shaped by fear and mistrust. This resonates with Ed Welch's concept of "shame," a deep existential wound that erodes our sense of worth and isolates us from true connection. Just as Adam and Eve hid their shame (Genesis 3:7), Arthur submerges himself in the brutal underbelly, burying his true identity under layers of self-protection.

Westminster Confession of Faith, Chapter 6, reminds us that this "sinful nature" inherited from Adam's fall distorts our relationship with God and one another. Arthur's journey embodies this distorted reality. Shame fuels his violent outbursts, pushing him further away from his destiny and into self-sabotage. He wields weapons with ease, a symbol of the internal warfare waged against his worth. Curt Thompson, in "The Soul of Shame," describes how shame's deceptive whispers can lead us to believe we are unworthy of love and grace. Arthur echoes this struggle, fearing to claim his birthright and the responsibility it carries by wielding Excalibur.

Yet, within the film's dark tapestry, glimmers of hope catch the eye. Merlin, emerging from the shadows, represents the ever-present whisper of truth. He challenges Arthur to face his past, offering a mirror to the shame that defines him. This echoes the gospel's message, a call to confront our sins and receive God's forgiveness. Like Romans 5:20 proclaims, "Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more."

And this is where Arthur truly rises. When he finally grasps the sword, Excalibur, forged from the flames of betrayal, it signifies a pivotal moment. He chooses to confront his shame, his past, and the demons they created. Taking up the sword becomes a metaphor for claiming his true identity as God's image bearer (Genesis 1:27), empowered by the grace offered through Christ's redemptive work.

New Testament passages like Romans 8:1 testify to this freedom: "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." The shame that imprisoned Arthur begins to crumble as he embraces his calling. As the film progresses, we see this transformation reflected in his leadership, his compassion, and the rallying of the people around him. Arthur's journey exemplifies the possibility of stepping out of the shadows of shame and into the light of Christ's love, not just for ourselves, but for the world around us.

"King Arthur: Legend of the Sword" is not simply a medieval action film; it's a poignant and relatable parable that reminds us of the darkness we all face within. But, through the film's lens, we see that shame doesn't have to define us. Just as Arthur drew strength from Excalibur, we, too, can find our redemption in the transformative power of Christ's love. So, let us rise from the ashes of our own "Londiniums," take up the sword of truth, and step into the light of our true calling as sons and daughters of the King of Kings.

The Big Brother We Can Depend On: Finding True North in Christ

Have you ever followed an older sibling around, seeking their protection and guidance? Or perhaps, like many, you've encountered the disappointment of an unreliable brother, leaving you to navigate life alone. This powerful metaphor paints a picture of our spiritual yearning: the desire for a dependable Big Brother, one who can truly provide the blessing, protection, and direction we crave.

In Luke 2:22-38, the apostolic physician offers a fresh perspective on Jesus Christ as the Big or Firstborn Brother we can finally rely on. He isn't like the flawed elder siblings of our past. He's the Firstborn of Israel, the one entrusted with fulfilling God's promise of restoration and blessing for all humanity.

But here's the catch: throughout history, humanity, including Israel, has repeatedly failed to live up to the role of being God's faithful Firstborn brother. This failure leaves us emotionally, relationally, and spiritually exhausted, searching for hope amidst unfulfilled promises and unmet expectations.

That's when Simeon and Anna, two individuals at the end of their own journeys, enter the scene. They represent those who have "seen it all" and "tried it all." In their humility and dependence, they are brought to the temple by the Holy Spirit, where they encounter Jesus, the true Firstborn.

Simeon, filled with the Holy Spirit, recognizes Jesus as the source of salvation, not just for Israel, but for all peoples. He sees in Jesus the one who will bridge the gap between God and humanity, offering forgiveness, acceptance, and the transformative power of the Holy Spirit.

But Jesus' role as the Big Brother isn't about comfort and ease. Simeon also prophesies of a "sword piercing through your own soul," hinting at the challenges and disruptions that Jesus' kingdom will bring. His teachings will upend our cultural assumptions and challenge our human perspectives.

So, what does this mean for us? Here are three key takeaways:

  1. Recognize our need for a dependable Big Brother: We all long for guidance, protection, and blessing. In Jesus, we find that reliable source, the one who truly fulfills the role we've been searching for.

  2. Humility is key: Like Simeon and Anna, letting go of our own attempts and acknowledging our limitations opens us to the transformative power of the Holy Spirit and the embrace of true salvation.

  3. Embrace the disruption: Following Jesus requires a willingness to challenge our assumptions and accept the "upside-down kingdom" he offers. His call is not for comfort, but for transformation and a radical reorientation of our priorities. This perspective can transform how we view the interruptions in our lives; death of a spouse, prolonged singleness, barrenness, not getting the job promotion, not meeting academic expectations, and much more can now be seen as avenues by which our Father is putting us in a position to be more dependent upon our elder brother Jesus to provide the covenants blessings that our souls ultimately long for. 

This narrative isn't just about unsatisfied elderly people; it is an invitation to a relationship. An invitation to trust in ‘The Big Brother’ who can truly guide us, protect us, and bless us. Are you ready to embrace life’s disruptions and discover the true North that only Jesus has, can, and will provide? For this is an invitation worth waiting upon because it’s an invitation that finds its ground in a resurrected savior; our Savior, who followed through until the end for the benefit of His Father’s family. 

Finding Extraordinary in the Ordinary: A Call to Live in and to God's Glory

Have you ever felt caught in the relentless pursuit of "extraordinary"? Driven by societal expectations, social media feeds, family dreams, and perhaps even internal whispers, we chase achievements, adventures, and accomplishments that seem to define success. But amidst this frenzied race, the poet William Martin offers a counterintuitive insight:

Do not ask your children to strive for extraordinary lives. Such striving may seem admirable, but it is the way of foolishness. Help them instead to find the wonder and the marvel of an ordinary life. Show them the joy of tasting tomatoes, apples and pears. Show them how to cry when pets and people die. Show them the infinite pleasure in the touch of a hand. And make the ordinary come alive for them.  The extraordinary will take care of itself.

–William Martin

Martin, instead, invites us to cultivate wonder and marvel in the ordinary. In the vibrant taste of a fruit, the bittersweet tears for a lost pet or loved one, and the simple touch of a hand, lies an untold depth of beauty and meaning. And it's here, in the seemingly mundane, that we encounter the extraordinary presence of God. Revelation 1:4-5 explodes with a declaration of grace and peace from the ever-existing, ever-present God:  

John to the seven churches that are in Asia: Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of kings on earth. To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood. 

This God isn't confined to the extraordinary moments of mountaintop experiences or dazzling revelations. We are shown that there is not one sliver of space or time in which God is not only present, but is hinting at the reality that He is guiding all of creation to its intended purpose, which is to glorify Him.  Time and history are God’s playground where He orchestrates human lives toward His glory and His people’s satisfaction in Him. He whispers in the wind, dances in the sunlight on leaves, and holds us close in the quiet moments of our ordinary lives. Our Lives and work were and are destined to move into this space and posture as God’s image bearers; discerning how the Lord is moving us into this state in relation to Him.  

Living in the light of this glory transforms our perspective on everything, including our vocation and work. It's not just about finding the "perfect" job or achieving personal glory. It's about aligning our hearts with God's purpose, offering every task, big or small, as an act of worship.

Paul, in Colossians 3, beautifully articulates this shift in mindset. He urges us to work for the Lord, not for human recognition or reward. The true prize, he reminds us, is the inheritance we receive from Christ. Our work becomes a sacred offering, a way to connect with God and participate in His grand symphony. Work, or any kind of performance, provides us with an opportunity to give what my former ministry post liked to call, ‘a thank you performance.’ Because of the finished work of Christ on our behalf, the need to justify myself to God or other people was removed. Jesus met all of the righteous requirements of God’s law, which are higher than any human entity, while at the same time being a substitutionary atonement by His death on the Cross for all of our failings. As a result of this work and the invitation to receive or accept such grace from Him, humanity is given the opportunity to enjoy and receive His accepting presence and power in every endeavor we partake in.  Our lives are no longer driven by a need to earn God’s favor, but instead becomes a platform wherein we can use everything that we put our hands and minds to express our deep love and gratitude for how He has loved us.  

This spiritual reorientation can shift the vocational conversation quite dramatically from "what" to "why." Instead of obsessing over titles and career paths in an effort to earn our worth and acceptability, we can instead ask ourselves: How can I say ‘thank you’ for how the Lord has saved me through His life, death, and resurrection? How might I glorify God in this moment? How can I bring His presence into my daily tasks? How can I offer this work as an act of worship, not to a distant God, but to the One who dances in the sunlight, whispers in the wind, and engages in everything that I do? 

This Gospel re-calibration challenges us to step off the treadmill of the extraordinary and rediscover the profound beauty of the ordinary. This gracious reality, provided by the saving work of Jesus, needs to be what is discipling and forming the hearts and minds of soon to be and longtime workers. As a result, the typical ‘christian vocational talk’ will be turned on its head.  This ‘glorification of God’ posture will move us from a focus on self-actualization to that of offerings of Worship to our creator. Let's taste the wonder in a ripe tomato, feel the sting of tears for a beloved pet, and hold the hand of a friend. In these seemingly small moments, let's invite God in, allowing His glory to transform our work, our lives, and the world around us. For when we live in the light of God's glory, the extraordinary truly takes care of itself.

When Life Crashes In: Recognizing the Serpent's Narrative & God’s Greater Victory

Amid life's storms, it's easy to lose sight of God's promises and fall prey to the "alternative narrative" whispered by the serpent to Adam and Eve, which calls into question God’s truthfulness. This narrative tells us that we must take control, rely on our strength, and abandon hope in God’s Word to us. But the Bible offers a different story, a story of hope and redemption built upon God's unwavering promises, which are centered in His unilateral covenant made to Abraham and his offspring. 

In Genesis 15, we saw Abraham struggling with doubt and fear after years of waiting for God's promised blessing. His circumstances didn't align with God's promises, and the centuries-old lie of the ‘serpent voice’ tempts him to take matters into his own hands at different points along the way. Yet, God steps in, offering reassurance and reminding Abraham of his covenant; a covenant that is entirely dependent upon God Himself. He reveals the fruit of His commitment by sharing a grand vision, one which extends far beyond Abraham's immediate desires, and promises him a legacy beyond his wildest dreams. 

This passage reminds us that even when life gets tough, God's vision for our lives and His Kingdom’s purposes remain unchanged. He is our comforter and shield, and His promises are our anchor in times of uncertainty. In the power of the Holy Spirit, we can resist the serpent's narrative by holding fast to God's word and His commitment to follow through on His promises made available by His Covenant-keeping Son, our high priest, the Lord Jesus Christ. The author of Hebrews states it perfectly, 

Now the point in what we are saying is this: we have such a high priest, one who is seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven, a minister in the holy places, in the true tent that the Lord set up, not man. For every high priest is appointed to offer gifts and sacrifices; thus it is necessary for this priest also to have something to offer. Now if he were on earth, he would not be a priest at all, since there are priests who offer gifts according to the law. They serve as a copy and shadow of the heavenly things. For when Moses was about to erect the tent, he was instructed by God, saying, “See that you make everything according to the pattern that was shown you on the mountain.” But as it is, Christ has obtained a ministry that is as much more excellent than the old as the covenant he mediates is better, since it is enacted on better promises. For if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no occasion to look for a second. For he finds fault with them when he says: “Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will establish a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah, not like the covenant that I made with their fathers on the day when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt. For they did not continue in my covenant, and so I showed no concern for them, declares the Lord. For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my laws into their minds, and write them on their hearts, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. And they shall not teach, each one his neighbor and each one his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest. For I will be merciful toward their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more.” Hebrews 8:1-12

You will make it to the finish line because Jesus has already finished and won the race for you. All we have to do is keep putting one foot in front of the other and He will be sure to make His ultimate triumphant and victory ours! 

We Have a Trust Source

Over the course of one’s Christian life, we will be asked by others, or by our own curious minds, ‘how we know what we know about truth, God, or ultimate reality? How do we justify things that we say we believe?’ These types of questions point to an activity that we all do everyday; seeking a justification for what we think, believe, and do. The pursuit of answering these type of questions is an area of study called Epistemology. For example, we make use of various means to develop a sense of certainty in our hearts and minds; things like news/media, science, discussions with peers, rumors at work or within the family, video evidence, and most prevalent, the use of our reason.

This scenario unexpectedly happened to me while I was sharing my faith with a couple on a beach in San Diego, California in 1989. In the midst of explaining the gospel, the thought popped up out of nowhere, ‘how do we know any of this is true?’ I would be lying to you if I said that I was not distracted from my task at hand. In fact, the thought was so disturbing that I had to embarrassingly end the conversation. It was like I was living through a spiritual earthquake; trying to make sense of the world as it was being shaken to core. Thankfully, the Lord provided me with viable and suitable answers via my spiritual leaders to meet the historical and philosophical concerns I had about my faith. But most importantly, the crucial anchor for my soul at that time was being shown the reliability of the Bible; that the Church/Christians has/have a trusted source in God’s Word.

The last two weeks we have examined aspects of the Scriptures reliability in our sermon series. We have seen that:

  • Language starts in the Godhead; the Trinity has been in conversation within itself for all eternity.

  • God’s voice has been interrupted by the serpent and Man.

  • Gods voice has been restored by the Word of God; namely, Jesus, as the Logos.

  • That Jesus’ Word has been spread by the Breath of God in the Scriptures by the Holy Spirit.

  • And finally, this past week Pastor Hace helped us see that no matter where we go or when we go, God’s presence and voice are made available to his people.

This last point is significant, because God‘s voice has not only been manifested over significant periods of time, but His track record to fulfill His promises serves to further anchor us in the trustworthiness of God and His Word. God’s word is consistent. Through every era of redemptive history the patterns that we see in each period reveal the faithfulness and trustworthiness of God’s dealings with His people. Studying the various patterns of teaching we find in the Bible over each period of the biblical story is called biblical theology. This discipline allows us to see that the Lord is true to Himself and His plans for the world over a long period of time. Therefore, we can have great hope knowing that His future plans for the world and His people are are more than likely to play out.

The writer of Hebrews alludes to this phenomenon this way: “Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world.” Heb 1:1–2

And following in this example of Scripture, the Westminster Standards puts it this way:

“Although the light of nature, and the works of creation and providence, do so far manifest the goodness, wisdom, and power of God, as to leave men inexcusable; yet they are not sufficient to give that knowledge of God, and of his will, which is necessary unto salvation: therefore it pleased the Lord, at sundry times, and in divers manners, to reveal himself, and to declare that his will unto his church; and afterwards, for the better preserving and propagating of the truth, and for the more sure establishment and comfort of the Church against the corruption of the flesh, and the malice of Satan and of the world, to commit the same wholly unto writing; which maketh the holy scripture to be most necessary; those former ways of God’s revealing his will unto his people being now ceased.” WCF 1.1

An image that helps me grasp how the Lord has been progressively leading and speaking to His people over the centuries is the fairy tale Hansel and Gretel. As the Triune God leads His people through life’s twists and turns, He has graciously left us ‘bread crumbs’ or markers in the Scriptures to let us know that He has been with us throughout the generations and that He will lead us through all of the challenges that our worlds can put before us moving forward. As we find ourselves moving in and out of ever changing cultural and philosophical climates, we can rest assured that His Word will not only help us navigate them, but he gives us a glorious picture of how the journey will end. Unlike Hansel and Gretel, we do not have to hope to be found and rescued from some terrible danger, but we can move with confidence that our leader and King has already blazed the path forward, while at the same time leaving His markers of direction for us in His Word.

Therefore, be encouraged by the redemptive patterns throughout biblical history that have shown both the Lord’s faithfulness and the hope that He will lead us all into a better and greater story to come.

Visualizing Daniel 1

Over the years of preaching and teaching, I have come to the realization that not everyone learns in the same way. We each have different learning styles that help us grasp what is being communicated. For me, my preferred method of learning has always been conversation or talking through material. As someone shares information, I am learning and evaluating what it is being said. However, this is not the only way to learn or teach all people.

My wife and daughter, Samantha and Hailey, learn by reading. They can read something once, whether it is a book or class notes, and they will remember everything. I used to be jealous of their ability to do this! Riley, my oldest son, learns by hands-on interaction with material. Doing is what brings about comprehension for him. Anthony shares the same learning style, with a touch of analytical skill mixed in. As you can imagine, I have driven my family crazy with my verbose style of learning, along with many congregants. Sorry! Therefore, in an attempt to expand my teaching styles, I will seek to find other ways to communicate with you for your spiritual enrichment.

So let us begin with clarifying the central tenants of the sermon from Daniel 1. First, Daniel paints the scene of Israel being disciplined by the rival Babylonian empire. Specifically, Israel is unfaithful to the Lord, they are taken into exile, and then oppressed by the Babylonian culture and its king,  Having reached this point in the narrative, Israel and the church in our day are forced to consider the question of how one is to be set free from such a predicament. 

Redemptively speaking, it is obvious that someone would need to enter into their captivity, oppression, remain faithful to God, and use their power and giftedness to set their people free. In this particular text, Daniel, in the role as a prophet, serves as a typological savior for the people of Israel: 

  1. He enters into captivity.

  2. He experiences the pressures of cultural and religious oppression.

  3. He remains in a spirit of dependence. 

  4. Daniel uses his rights, privileges, and skills to be a blessing to both Israel and Babylon. 

Next, we looked at how Jesus Christ ultimately fulfills this redemptive need for all those who find themselves in spiritual and relational captivity by doing each of the tasks mentioned above. 

And finally, we took a look at the implications of Christ’s saving work upon those who have been captivated and carried away by the idolatries of our hearts.  Namely, our Father strategically places each of us in spheres of influence to walk in:

  1. Our new freedom in Christ

  2. Our new identity in Christ

  3. Our new hope in Christ

  4. Our new mission in Christ to help other captives

Alright, I have once again explained the meaning of the text with a lot of words. But what if we could add some graphic illustrations to further shed light on this passage’s intentions; to simplify the central message of passage? For instance:

Now I realize these illustrations are an oversimplified explanation, but used in conjunction with the verbal description, I hope they help some to obtain a better grasp of th meaning of the passage. The hope behind this exercise is to provide another tool to assist others in their understanding of the Bible’s meaning. I am not under the illusion that this is a perfect description, but it is an attempt at improving our communication. If this was at all helpful, please feel free to interact with this post and leave your thoughts one way or the other. In the meantime, may the Lord Jesus enter into all of our areas of captivity, set us free, and empower us to be liberators for others.

Zechariah and the Redemptive Potential of Silence

This Advent our church chose to focus on the theme of silence, specifically the spaces when God seems silent or inactive. It was good to be reminded that at some points between the pages that describe God’s redemptive work in the world there are some big gaps – generations of enslavement, decades of exile, centuries between the close of the Old Testament and the coming of the Messiah. Many Bible readers might benefit from a page inserted at the end of Malachi (or even Genesis) that just says:

[Centuries passed – God seemed gone]

Even as we move into the New Testament we encounter one of the most unique examples of silence in the scriptures – the period when Zechariah is made mute (and possibly also deaf) between his encounter with Gabriel in the temple and his son John’s presentation at the temple in Luke 1. While much of Zechariah’s experience is unique, it has been helpful to me in reflecting on my own experience of silence in relation to God.  

First, in the context provided by Luke, it is clear that Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth are no strangers to silence and waiting. They have already spent all their childbearing years praying and waiting for a child with no answer. They have almost certainly perceived God’s silence as his absence in a way that many of us can relate to. If not in waiting for a child, then perhaps for a spouse or freedom from an addiction that has plagued us for years. Like Zechariah and Elizabeth, we have prayed and prayed, only to be left with that embarrassed and frustrated feeling you get when you realize that your call got dropped and you don’t know how long you’ve been talking into a phone with no one listening on the other end.  

Endure this kind of silence for long enough and eventually you are likely to feel it less as God’s absence and more as punishment. Surely some, perhaps even Zechariah and Elizabeth themselves, wondered if this was why they were childless. Both from priestly families, what had they possibly done to prevent God from answering or even hearing their prayer? 

But that all predates the events described in Luke 1. When Gabriel appears to Zechariah with the good news that their prayer has been answered, Zechariah responds with an understandable question – how will they have a child in their old age?  The question puts Zechariah in good company: Abraham and Mary ask similar questions when the births of their sons are foretold. Abraham and Mary have their questions answered, but Zechariah has his voice taken away. Some commentators suggest the cause of Zechariah’s muteness (and possible deafness)  may be more complex than an outright punishment for faithlessness. Whatever the case, there is little doubt that Zechariah experienced some of the following months as a punishment.  

Can you imagine more than 9 months of silence? It seems like a perfect scenario for bitterness and depression to set in: Zechariah, living with his aged but now pregnant wife, and her pregnant cousin Mary, unable to verbally process any of what is happening. However genuinely grateful he was to finally have a son on the way, if you don’t know the rest of the story already, it would be hard to predict just what Zechariah will have to say when he regains his voice, after all those years of unanswered prayers followed by months of silence. 

By God’s grace I have been part of his body, the church, my entire life. But it wasn’t until the early years of my pastoral ministry that I came to see the value of observing Advent before celebrating Christmas. And even then the distinction between the two was fairly abstract for me until four years ago. 

That’s when I spent every day of Advent in 2018 in a hospital NICU, sitting with a son who had been born in November even though his due date wasn’t until February. In the weeks before he was born, aware that my wife was at high risk for preterm labor, we prayed for a full-term delivery unlike we had ever prayed for anything before. But he came at 27 weeks and then we began to pray for God’s mercy, that we might avoid the many complications that can come with such an early birth. But in the first week of December his doctors informed us that he had bleeding that had caused the ventricles in his brain to begin to swell. He had one surgery that we prayed would resolve this issue, but as Christmas neared and then passed it became clear that he would need at least one more surgery, and maybe many more. Doctors prepared us that he could have permanent brain damage affecting language and mobility.  

At a few points that Advent God’s silence felt like his absence. But most of the time it felt like the cruelest punishment I could have imagined for my family. I vividly remember wishing I could believe that some things were actually outside of God’s control, because then I could still cling to his goodness. But if I was convinced of his absolute sovereignty (and I still was), then that really complicated things, relationally speaking. Looking forward, into the possibility of neurological damage with long-term consequences, I not only worried for my son and my family, but also for how I might respond if God’s silence felt like punishment for much longer.

Back to Zechariah, when John is born and taken to the temple, we see how Zechariah has experienced these months of silence. He seems to have experienced them as a transforming grace. He is captivated with what God is doing in their midst - not just God’s provision for his family, but God’s faithfulness to his covenant people.  

Even before he can speak again, everyone is amazed by the chosen name for his son: John, meaning “the LORD has been gracious.” 

Then Zechariah’s voice is restored and he bursts with prophecy about the Lord’s redemption of his people, his faithfulness to his covenant, and perhaps most surprising, their proper response: “that we, being delivered from the hands of our enemies, might serve [God] without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days” (Luke 1:74-75). 

Of all the things Zechariah could have said to exhort the faithful remnant of Israel that he and Elizabeth represent in this account, it is almost laughable that he implores them to serve God “without fear.” The man who faithfully served in the temple for years as his prayer for a child went unanswered, who later saw an angel (a universally terrifying experience), and had his voice taken away for asking a clarifying question, wants anyone who will listen to know that his faithful God can be served “without fear.” 

Personally, it took me a bit longer than Zechariah to be reoriented to the goodness of God. Or for my perception of his goodness to be less about my immediate experience and more about his unchangeable faithfulness and mercy. By God’s grace, my son’s second surgery successfully resolved the swelling in his brain and within several months his neurosurgeon was very hopeful that he would experience little or no long-term effect from the swelling and surgeries. But God continued to feel distant and silent for some time. 

For the last three years it has been much easier to lean into the themes of Advent – waiting, longing, even in darkness and silence. As the hustle and bustle of commercial Christmas takes over my phone still shares daily picture “memories” with me of a tiny baby on a ventilator. And though I am thankful to be another year removed from that experience, I long for the pain of it to be fully redeemed. As my kids sing in the church Christmas program about Jesus’ first coming I long for his second coming in a different way than I did before. For the day when Christ’s completed work will ensure that all the pain from our waiting will be redeemed, when there will be no more silence in his presence, no more fear of God’s absence or punishment, when we will finally be fully enabled to serve him “without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all of our days.” 

Recalling God’s Story in Your Life (Based upon a devotional reading of Ps. 44)

While sitting around the dinner table last week, celebrating my 54th birthday, my children shared stories of their childhood memories with me. One of them recalled the stories I would tell them at bedtime. Another mentioned how I would share silly stories from my childhood. When I looked at my youngest and asked if he remembered me telling stories, he said, with furrowed brow, “Of course, dad.”  As you might imagine, my heart welled up with gratitude and a sense of pride. I was so glad to know my practice of sharing stories from my life, their mother’s life, and their grandparents’ lives remained so endearing to them as they aged. I had always hoped the stories would communicate moral virtue and humor that would appear in their own lives. I had always hoped that somehow the stories would help shape their hopes, dreams, and expectations for life. I don’t know if I always consciously thought about it back in the day, but as I look back, I definitely wanted to give them a positive framework for understanding their family history, despite its brokenness and dysfunction.

Upon reading Psalm 44 this morning, I was struck by how the Sons of Korah—the stated authors of the psalm—described the stories their fathers told about God’s provision for the people of Israel. It’s clear that the Sons of Korah heard tons of amazing narratives about how the Lord miraculously provided land, salvation, and hope through his mighty hand. Psalm 44 is all about recounting their fathers’ stories, and they recount them not simply for their own benefit or only to have warm feelings in their hearts—they were also reminding God of what He had done for their fathers and were telling Him how it gave them hope for today (their today). Facing considerable suffering and violence at the hand of their enemies, they expressed hope that God would do for them what he had done for their fathers.

The last verse of the psalm, verse 26, especially highlights why the Sons of Korah recount their fathers’ stories. “Rise up,” they declare, “come to our help! Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love!” They want God to save them “for the sake of [his] steadfast love,” wording that signals a covenantal love. They are pleading with God that He remember His covenant! This covenantal love is eternal and based upon grace, not the performance of his people (notice the way God made the covenant with Abraham in Genesis 15). It’s as if the Sons of Korah are saying, “Father God, don’t discredit all the amazing, miraculous ways you’ve worked in your people’s lives by not fulfilling your covenant; instead, enable us to keep your law, and your name will be protected for all time.”

Friends, as we consider the arduous task of imparting the gospel to our children, I know we all share more stories than those appearing between Genesis 1 and Revelation 22. We also share our gospel-filled stories—the amazing ways the God of the Bible has been working and will continue to work in our lives! We all know there will be times when our kids encounter evil, pain, trial, and opposition. But, as Psalm 44 reminds us, we must call upon the Lord and plead that He would bring the stories of the Bible to life in our present moment—so that we might once again experience His strong, kind, and loving salvation in our lives. Don’t stop sharing your stories. They’re powerful. They will be remembered. They give hope and a faithful anchor, both for you and your children.

CFU Update

From MTW:

THANK YOU

Words can’t express how grateful we are for your service, time, effort and energy. It is huge! We will send you are more formal thanks with some things to celebrate when the summer iteration of CFU is complete. We are on pace for ~185 couriers, 1200 crates and over 250 churches participating in some form. Praise the Lord. To God be the glory!!

PRAYERS NEEDED

We are in the final 10 days of CFU and the peak of “busyness" as we welcome final couriers. This week alone 49 couriers will land/landed. On Monday, 17 couriers are scheduled to land. You all are well equipped to pray because you know what it is like to pack at the last minute, go to the airport with crates, deal with check-in, fly, arrive tired and disoriented and be in Krakow for a few days. Please pray with us and for the final few days of CFU.

Pray for

Kirk, Doug and Joel (MTW Team Lviv hosts in Krakow): pray for energy, health, endurance and small moments of rest.Couriers flying now and soon to fly - smooth check in, safe travels, free crates, health. To be impacted by the CFU trip. Airline counter agents that are kind, helpful and able to give free crates and get all these couriers and crates on the planes (we have some huge parties checking in today and Sunday)For this aid to encourage the Ukrainian Church, encourage the American Church - to save lives, impact communities and to create pathways for the Gospel.

HELP NEEDED

We have a favor to ask.

Please click here to leave a review for Amber Hotel in Krakow

All of you stayed at the Amber Hotel in Krakow. This hotel has been a huge blessing to MTW Ukraine and our guest volunteers since early March. The MTW Krakow Crisis Team ran operations from this hotel for months. They have welcomed over 185 couriers. They have been very good to us… helpful, gracious, flexible and accommodating. We would like to bless this hotel in a small way by giving them numerous 5 star reviews. It takes ~ 2 min to leave them a review. If you are willing and if you liked the hotel, will you please take 2 min today to click the link below and post a favorable review for the Amber Hotel? Thank you!

Click here to leave a review on Trip Advisor

OTHER

Check out this video of crates being sorted in the Lviv warehouse last weekend. See the photo attached of the Lviv warehouse from last weekends sorting and volunteer party.

Again, Thank you for serving and loving Ukraine through the CFU ministry project. To God be the glory!

Grace & Peace

Becoming Whole

“When I get out of prison, I’m gonna….”

I heard a sentence start like that at a Backyard Bible Club of all places. Even more startling than the setting, it came from the mouth of a boy no older than 10. 

The church I was part of at the time ran Backyard Bible Clubs every summer in city parks throughout the urban neighborhood where we lived and worshipped. This particular night, as we were playing with the kids, someone asked the classic question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” The first few answers shouted back contained no surprises given the ages of the kids. But when one kid’s answer started with “When I get out of prison, I’m gonna…” one woman in the group laughed, in a baffled kind of way. She asked, “Why would you go to prison?!” And he looked back at her equally confused. 

One of the leaders quickly diverted the conversation, but wisely revisited it with us later, knowing it had surely made an impression on each person, whether that impression was confusion, sadness, or something else. He clarified what some had already realized: it was likely that every adult male this little boy knew had been to prison at some point in their teenage or early adult years. It wasn’t that he wanted to go to prison. Based on his experience of the world, he didn’t realize it was avoidable. 

The authors of Becoming Whole identify four primary influences in the process of individual and cultural formation: individual persons, formative practices, environmental and social systems, and a story of change. The story of change is “the community’s understanding, which may be explicit or implicit, of the goal of life and how that goal can be achieved.”

In the case of this little boy, that story involved overcoming the initial setback of prison to achieve some level of success in life. 

The night I heard a boy share his dreams by starting with the phrase “when I get out of prison…” it dawned on me that I did not personally know a single person who had ever been to prison. It was a stark reminder of the vast disparity between my life experience and that of this boy and many of my neighbors. But at the time I still lacked the ability to examine the stories of change I grew up with, to examine whether or not they also may have malformed me and my peers in some way. 

The subtitle of Becoming Whole is Why the Opposite of Poverty Isn’t the American Dream. As I read the authors’ analysis of the prevailing stories of change in modern America, it helped me to better understand the stories that shaped me. While I remain thankful that I never saw prison as an unavoidable chapter of my life, my surroundings did not create perfect virtue either. The highly competitive academic environments where I received schooling formed many students who were as adept at cheating as they were math or foreign languages. By college, most of my peers didn’t question the narrative that success was defined by one thing: the accumulation of material wealth for the sake of personal enjoyment. 

The book also made me think historically about the stories that have shaped human experience. Perhaps the most obvious example across time and culture is the way the value of women has been minimized to their child-bearing capability. 

The authors of Becoming Whole define personal wholeness in four dimensions of relationship: a person’s relationship to 1) God, 2) him/herself, 3) other people, and 4) creation. Taking all these dimensions into account, we will almost always find them lacking in some way as we examine stories of change. It would be worthwhile for each of us to examine the story of change that drives our own lives, as well as the stories of those around us that may shape us more than we realize. But even as we engage cross-culturally, with people whose backgrounds and stories of change may be totally different than our own, the framework offered in Becoming Whole is incredibly helpful because it gives us a point of comparison beyond our own experience. 

As we begin our time together studying this helpful book, I look forward to hearing others process their own stories of change and how they may have formed us in ways for which we can be thankful, and also in ways for which we can repent.

People Are Leaving Us

People are leaving us.

That might seem like an odd way to start an Easter reflection but stick with me.

It’s true, people are leaving us, but this is how things tend to go at Ponce Pres. We are a metro church in every sense. We have members who live as far out as Dallas, GA and members who live right around the corner. I myself pass a number of churches on my way to Ponce every Sunday. Still, my wife and I have felt called to Ponce basically since we arrived in Atlanta, about seven years ago. I know many others who feel the same—they sense their calling to Ponce despite living in Norcross, College Park, Marietta, or Decatur.

Callings do change though.

Being a metro church has its challenges. Apart from the church plant budding from Ponce’s roots, which has drawn away some established members (God be praised!), Ponce has had the privilege of seeing people marry and have children in our church. Sometimes, for affordability reasons and needing space to breath, they head out to the suburbs. They may or may not remain members at Ponce. Some feel the natural pull of a stronger gravity the farther their orbit extends—that of their new neighborhood. This is a beautiful thing! Ponce has also had the privilege of seeing people arrive in Atlanta for their studies. Whether at GT, Emory, GSU, or elsewhere, they don’t always hang around. There’s nothing wrong with that either! It’s the same with some professionals who arrive only to leave after a couple years or relocate for other career opportunities. There’s nothing wrong with that either! God calls us to excel at our vocations.

I would be remiss not to mention that some of our members have simply died. I think of Brent or Sharon, for instance. It’s hard, harder even than losing those who move, but we can hopefully find some comfort in knowing they’re now in Jesus’s presence.

Similarly, it always seems that Ponce gets refilled in waves—by babies or by relocations. My wife and I were part of one such wave. We arrived right when several other couples and singles arrived. We bonded with some of them. One couple in particular eventually moved to EAV, where they felt called to attend a church in their immediate neighborhood. Last month I had a chance to stop in at their home. It had probably been about a year and a half since I had seen them. It felt like a beautiful reunion. I imagine I will continue to see them around town or we’ll get together here and there. Still, if I’m honest, my heart grieves the loss of their daily presence. But, this is the way we all live these days and there is nothing necessarily wrong with our movement and changing church homes. In fact, as I sense we gear up for a season of transition, I must admit that I actually encouraged a family moving out to the suburbs that they kick the tires of some churches in their new neighborhood.

I want to talk about something—grieving and celebrating those who leave Ponce.

As a church, we should be drawing closer together. It may not always be perfect. It may be entirely absent from time to time. Whether that’s on us or on others in our lives, I leave that to the individual heart to determine. We should grieve departure though. We should mourn losing the daily presence of our brothers and sisters in Christ. On the other hand, we should celebrate it too! We get to see those with whom we have shared our lives go onward into the world to serve and worship Jesus with other believers in new places, whether right around the corner or across the globe.

I was recently reading a novel about two pastors and their wives called The Dearly Beloved. One pastor is a skeptic married to an ardent believer. One pastor is a firm believer married to an atheist. The two pastors end up sharing a pulpit at a NYC church during the tumultuous 1960s. Both men and their wives make their congregants quite uncomfortable with their positions on social issues and openness to the turbulent times.

Over the course of the novel, one of the pastors and his wife have twins, one of whom is autistic. In these early days of autism research (the 1960s), parents often didn’t know how to love or live with their autistic children, and the children would end up in group homes where a lack of staff and social support meant the children simply could get the love and attention they needed. The pastor and his wife are determined to keep their son in their own home, but they are also fearful of the reactions of those around them. They begin to retreat into their family unit. The other pastor and the rest of the church notice their attempted retreat and draw closer to them, sometimes being pushed away and sometimes making missteps in trying to be helpful. Regardless of their failures at engaging, the other pastor and the congregants earnestly seek the family out. It comes to the point that the other pastor and the congregants create a school for autistic children, staffed by medical professionals and well-trained special ed teachers.  

Sometime later, the pastor whose child is autistic must baptize the newborn child of his fellow co-pastor. He looks out at the congregations and begins with “Dearly beloved.” I will let the author, Cara Wall, narrate it:

“Dearly beloved,” he began. They were the words that started weddings, not baptisms, but the people in the church were his beloved, so dear that as he spoke his heart and throat grew tight. He loved every person in this church more than he would have ever thought possible, loved them not with the automatic love of childhood or the easy love of coincidence, but with the tautly stitched love of people who have faced uncertainty together, who have stuck it out, the strong love of people who looked to their side while suffering and saw the other there.

Now, remember that this is a baptism scene. It is about young people. It is about confirming the faith of the families of those young people. It is about how they plan to raise children in the admonition of the Lord. Cara Wall continues,

Together, they [the parents] would send all of these young people out into a world they knew was full of injury and hard to bear. Somehow, they would wave and wish them well and have faith that they would avoid the worst of the darkness, live mostly in the light.

I find these words so moving. The church members, he comes to find, amidst the personal hardships of life and the ruptures in their society, have become his beloved; they are “tautly stitched” together. How beautiful an image. Still, here at a baptism, he’s compelled to reflect on the fact that they will have to send their children out into a scary world. This world contains the very brokenness he’s had to face. I love the line, “they would wave and wish them well and have faith that they would avoid the worst of the darkness, live mostly in the light.”

The first time I read these words I was moved to reflect on Ponce, but not in terms of baptisms and young people leaving home, but in terms of our departures. We have seen and will see our fair share of departures. We’ll have to wave and wish them well and have faith that they would avoid the worst of the darkness and live mostly in the light. There’s both pain and hope in this. Hopefully, we can be stitching ourselves together to this degree, that we would call each other beloved and grieve our departures. For now, I leave it to you to wonder how you do this.

What I actually want to do, however, is encourage you, not chastise you. I submit we can do better even than Wall suggests. We can grieve the losses, we can wave goodbye, and we can have faith (and pray) for their futures apart from us. These are no doubt a must. But, we can also do more—we can celebrate eternal reunion. We believe there’s a future beyond this life if we are in Christ. It involves a table where we will sit with our fellow saints and our Lord and enjoy the bountiful harvest of a world restored to glory. Regardless of whether or not I see you around town, we believe we’ll see each other again in another life. We can embrace each other now and release our grip when the Lord says it’s time to let go. After all, we will embrace each other again. Even when we fail to embrace each other well on this earth (I know many of us feel this way), we won’t fail in the life to come.

There are many reasons why people leave our church. Some with joy and celebration, some in a more disgruntled manner (for good reason or not), some because we just cannot serve them for a season or two. My hope is that regardless of how they leave, we all recognize how we will be together again someday, our joys completed, our disagreements done.

Enter Easter.

Easter is somewhat weird for us as Christians, as is Good Friday for that matter. Good Friday is, well, “good.” What Jesus did in suffering and dying for us was certainly “good,” yet we dress in black and treat it like a funeral. It isn’t totally dark though because what actually makes it good is what happens next: Easter. Easter feels like a day of new life and celebration, a breath of fresh air… Yet, it’s also kind of not when you stop and think about it. As Christians we rightly believe that Jesus’s resurrection remains the pinnacle event in human history, but still, it didn’t set the world right right now. In fact, Jesus left us.

Okay, okay. He left us with the Holy Spirit and went to prepare a place for us (in no way am I minimizing that), but we--the church--are still awaiting the full return of our bridegroom. We--arm in arm, you and I--will be together in eternity.

A future, eternal togetherness is a beautiful hope we can lean on as Christians, especially as we reflect on our struggle to maintain connections during pandemic living, as we witness members moving on, and as we turn our attention to the not-entirely-completed joys of Easter. Hopefully, we won’t abuse our future, eternal togetherness by resting on our heels in the here and now. Instead, I pray that our future, eternal togetherness may push us forward in love to such a degree that we can both grieve our departures and embrace them. Right now, let’s rest in the joy Easter brings, while realizing we’ll eventually bask side-by-side in an even more complete joy.

God’s Love Letter To The Weary Through Isaiah

Spring in Georgia is a beautiful season, filled with flowers, sunshine, and longer days. It feels like the start of something new when I see buds coming forth from my lemon tree. It is so fitting that Easter typically occurs at this change into springtime, a physical reminder of the spiritual reality that Christ came into humanity, died on the cross, and was resurrected in victory for our renewal and regeneration. Yet, this spring season feels particularly hard with separation from people and many in our lives who are suffering from sickness, loneliness, or uncertainty. While I love the sunshine, this season of lent feels heavy laden. So what does it look like to fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith (Hebrews 12:1-2), when it feels hard to see him? How can we find renewal when it does not feel like we are being renewed? How does Christ, in His resurrection, speak to the weary?

Isaiah is, to me, one of the most beautiful books of the Bible and speaks prophetically about our Lord Jesus Christ, His crucifixion, and resurrection repeatedly. Take for example, Isaiah 53:5-6 “But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and by his wounds we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”  Praise God that we are made righteous in Christ and were not left as stray sheep!  These are often quoted verses especially during Easter, and in this season I have found even more encouragement as I have understood the context of Isaiah’s prophetic words and read this portion of Isaiah as God’s love letter and promise to His people.

We find in chapters 36-39 that Hezekiah was King of Judah, and he had been one of the good kings in the sordid history of Israel’s monarchy; he “did what was right in the eyes of the Lord” (2 Chronicles 29:2). He cleansed the temple and restored the house of the Lord. He facilitated a celebration of Passover that was extended to all of Israel, bringing a moment of unity between the two kingdoms. When the king of Assyria was threatening, Hezekiah sought Isaiah the prophet’s help, turned to the Lord for salvation, and God answered with victory. And yet, after all of that, when the King of Babylon sent an envoy to visit the king, Hezekiah’s pride led him to show off his kingdom; “there was nothing in his house or in all his realm that Hezekiah did not show them” (Isaiah 39:2). In response, Isaiah issued these devastating words, “Behold, the days are coming, when all that is in your house . . . shall be carried to Babylon. Nothing shall be left” (Isaiah 39:6). The sins and persistent disobedience of the people were too great, and God would send His people into exile in punishment. These were going to be dark days for Israel.

In this season, tired of the pandemic, tired of sin and sorrow, tired of crying tears for myself and others,  tired of my own and the world’s selfishness, and struggling to see God’s hand at times, I sometimes feel like there is nothing left. Where is God? The pessimist (or maybe realist) in me expects that the next chapters in Isaiah will be more of the well-deserved burning condemnation for Israel’s sins that is often characteristic of the prophets. But God. One of the most beautiful phrases in all of Scripture (see Romans 5:8). But God is not like us; he does not leave us in our misery. God reaches into our hard and our own exile to bring His grace and love. In the next 15 chapters (Isaiah 40-55:13), Isaiah brings not judgment, but comfort. The very next words after this judgment  are, “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her, that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for her all of her sins” (Isaiah 40:1-2). When God has every right to pour judgment on His people, he instead brings words of comfort and reassurance that He is still their God and still for their good. These words that were spoken in advance of the exile, knowing the suffering they would ensure, knowing that they would be restored after the exile, and knowing that all of this was a part of the pre-ordained plan for Israel and the world’s ultimate restoration through Christ.

Just meditate on a few of these passages as God speaks over His people in this prophetic word of comfort (and better yet, read the whole things one day!):

“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength.” (Isaiah 40:28-29)

“You [Israel] are my servant, I have chosen you and not cast you off; fear not for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:9-10)

“And I will lead the blind in a way that they do not know, in paths that they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground. These are the things I do and I do not forsake them.” (Isaiah 42: 16)

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire, you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.” (Isaiah 43:2)

“I formed you; you are my servant; O Israel, you will not be forgotten by me. I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like mist; return to me, for I have redeemed you.” (Isaiah 44: 21-22)

And then one of my favorite passages from Isaiah 55: 1-3 that says,

“Come, everyone who thirsts,

come to the waters;

and he who has no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without price.

Why do you spend you money for that which is not bread,

and your labor for that which does not satisfy?

Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good.

and delight yourselves in rich food.

Incline your ear, and come to me;

hear, that your soul may live;

and I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.”

Because of Christ’s death and resurrection, God speaks to us in our sin and suffering calling us to come to Him. Come have fellowship with Him. Come find comfort in the very dark days of life. Come not because you are worthy but because Christ suffered, died, and was resurrected out of love for you. Come to the great high priest, Jesus Christ, who through His voluntary suffering relates to our own sorrows and is interceding for us to the Father. Come listen to His word that brings life, truth, and peace. Come not only to Him, but to His body, the church, to find strength and faith in joys and sorrows.

If this Easter season you are struggling to celebrate Him in the way you would have hoped or deeply mourning losses that have happened in this life, you are not alone. Easter has never been about pretty dresses and chocolate eggs (although those can be fun!), but it was God reaching into sinful, broken, and suffering humanity through His Son, in love, to rescue us and bring us comfort. In the end, our ultimate comfort is that through Christ we will know an eternity with Him in a place with no more tears or mourning (Revelation 21:4). As 1 Peter 5:10-11 reminds us, “And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.”

I end with a prayer from Valley of Vision, a collection of Puritan prayers, that focuses us on the juxtaposition of life in Christ with the challenges of our earthly existence. May this encourage and challenge you wherever you are in this season.

“Lord, High and Holy, Meek and Lowly,

Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision,

where I live in the depth but see thee in the heights;

hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold thy glory.

Let me learn by paradox

that the way down is the way up,

that to be low is to be high,

that the broken heart is the healed heart,

that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,

that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,

that to have nothing is to possess all,

that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,

that to give is to receive,

that the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from the deepest wells,

and the deeper the wells, the brighter the stars shine;

Let me find thy light in my darkness,

thy life in my death,

thy joy in my sorrow,

thy grace in my sin,

thy riches in my poverty

thy glory in my valley.”

 -Valley of Vision, edited by Arthur Bennett, The Banner of Truth Trust.

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Leaving The South

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I was leaving the South

to fling myself into the unknown...

I was taking a part of the South

to transplant in alien soil,

to see if it could grow differently,

if it could drink of new and cool rains,

bend in strange winds,

respond to the warmth of other suns

and, perhaps, to bloom.

— Richard Wright, Black Boy, 1945

Growing up in the South, I have lived in close proximity to many African Americans; however, I have missed much of the history and personal stories of those who are different from me. One of the ways I’ve been able to address this in my life is to listen and learn from the stories of men and women of color, many also from the South. In addition to cultivating friendships with people of color in my life, books have also had a profound impact on me in this journey. One such book has been The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America's Great Migration by Isabel Wilkerson which tells the story of the exodus of almost six million African Americans from the South throughout the twentieth century through the lives of three individuals. 

A few years ago in online circles I follow, The Warmth of Other Suns was being discussed and recommended. When I was picking up the book at Little Shop of Stories (I also highly recommend this bookstore in downtown Decatur), I told the bookseller I wanted a book for my upcoming summer beach trip. Her comment was, “not your usual beach reading.” She was prophetic as it was not a light read. This book shattered many of my assumptions and biases about racism, especially systemic racism. As I read the stories of courageous men and women who faced immense challenges, I felt sad, shocked, angry, and ashamed at the depravity of how people were treated because their skin color was different. I also learned in greater detail how racism did not end for these men and women who left the Jim Crow South as they faced housing, job, and social discrimination in Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles. This allowed me to see how deep and entrenched the majority culture bias has been in our country.  

One of the three individuals Wilkerson’s book chronicles is Ida Mae Gladney.

She had lived the hardest life, been given the least education, seen the worst the South could hurl at her people, and did not let it break her… She was surrounded by the clipped speech of the North, the crime on the streets, the flight of the white people from her neighborhood, but it was as if she were immune to it all. She took the best of what she saw in the North and the South and interwove them in the way she saw fit… Her success was spiritual, perhaps the hardest of all to achieve. And because of that, she was the happiest and lived the longest of them all.[1]

This growing realization, a realization of racism’s multi-generational impact and the inequities experienced by people like Ida Mae, caused me to lament. But that was not the only reaction I had while reading. I was also struck by the resiliency and spiritual strength of Ida Mae and others, a resiliency and spiritual strength forged through suffering. While the Black Church was not the primary focus of the book, the author referenced the faith of many of the individuals as they sought a better life in spite of the adversities they faced. This has created a growing appreciation for what I and others in majority White churches can learn from the Black Church. There is a rich history and godly example from which I and others can learn much as we enter into the stories.

Why have so many of these stories not been told? I have asked that question to myself many times. Why did I not learn about this growing up? In what ways have I been complicit in ignorance? These are not easy or simple questions. As I’ve learned more about our complex, racial history, I’m finding that I am, in a way, leaving the South. However, this departure is not physical but rather leaving the White-washed, incomplete history of the South. My belief is that hearing untold stories will allow us to see a more complete history. My hope is that in this Black History Month I and others will engage, listen to, learn from, and love our neighbors.

  1. [1] Isabel Wilkerson, The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America's Great Migration (New York: Random House, 2010), p. 532.

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The Cancer of Racism, The Racism of Cancer Care, and Why We Should Care

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“Our world is suffering from metastatic cancer. Stage 4. Racism has… been spreading, contracting, and threatening to kill the American body…” – Ibram X. Kendi, How to Be an Anti-Racist

Unfortunately, cancer has had or will have an effect on every single one of our lives. Statistically speaking in the United States, women have a 1 in 3 chance and men have a 1 in 2 chance of developing some form of cancer in their lifetime. However, did you know that certain population groups bear a disproportionate burden of both disease incidence (who is diagnosed with cancer) and mortality (who dies from cancer)? For example, the national average number of new male cancer cases per year is 480 per 100,000 men, but 515 cases per 100,000 Black men. Additionally, while there are 134 female cancer-related deaths per year per 100,000 women, that number increases to 151 deaths per 100,000 Black women. We could talk through a pretty extensive laundry list of types of cancer and different BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) groups that are either more likely to develop that cancer type or die from that type of cancer. We refer to this unfortunate phenomenon as a racial health disparity and, like a lot of medical issues, it gets pretty complicated when we try to untangle why this problem exists. Today, as a cancer researcher, I want to share with y’all some of what I have been learning from looking at this issue as well as hopefully encourage you to do the same kind of searching in your own sphere of influence to see where the cancer of racism has spread and how we can root it out. 

One of the first ideas for us to explore when understanding the role of racism in cancer is referred to as “social determinants of health.” This concept recognizes that beyond a person’s biology and genetic family history, significant health outcomes (such as mortality, life expectancy, and how much you spend on health care) are related to the conditions of the environment that a person lives in. These conditions can range from economic stability and access to food, education, and job opportunities to a person’s physical environment and how integrated they are into their community. Because of our country’s history of oppression of Black people since 1619, when chattel slavery began in America, many Black people have lower average income, live in neighborhoods with higher poverty and crime rates, and have restricted access to health care, economic stability, and education.

One facet that has caused this disparity is the effect of housing segregation. Federal legislation in 1934 that was intended to help make housing more affordable after the Great Depression resulted in a practice known as redlining, where banks could deny mortgages to people living in “high-risk” areas—outlined in red on residential security maps—because of their high population of Black people and other minority groups. This was detrimental to communities of color, which are still feeling the effect of this discrimination today. This is seen in the lack of access to quality food, increased chronic stress due to increased crime rates and over-policing, and a disproportionate impact of environmental hazards, known as environmental racism. (Race is the most significant predictor of a person living near contaminated air, water, or soil.)

 While some of the racial disparities in cancer incidence and mortality can be explained by socio-economic status (itself a by-product of a long history of limiting the access Black people have to various means for economic growth), socio-economic status cannot explain everything. Even when normalizing data by education level and socio-economic status, a number of disparities in cancer prevention, diagnosis, and treatment persist. While much of this post has discussed the systematic and structural problems that result in health disparities, here we start seeing potential effects of interpersonal actions between physicians and patients. BIPOC are grossly underrepresented in the field of medicine and medical research, which can lead to issues of miscommunication and stereotype biases between White physicians and their minority patients. Layer on top of that a history of exploitation of Black people in medical research (the story of Henrietta Lacks, the woman whose cancer cells were taken from her and used without her consent that led to major breakthroughs in cancer research, was what first got me interested in this subject in college), and it is easy to understand the high level of distrust in Black communities of the medical establishment.

Everything mentioned above just scratches the surface of the data and anecdotes around the problem of cancer racial health disparities. I personally have been trying to dive into the deep end of this subject pool because my own field of study is cancer research. Last summer, I first started thinking of the idea of including this subject matter in a cancer biology class that I would like to teach, one day, off in the future. However, when I mentioned this far-off idea to a group of friends, their response was, “why not teach that class now?” I decided to do more research and put together a workshop series which I will be teaching this spring at Georgia Tech to start the discussion in my community about the problems that exist and what we can do as scientists and engineers to alleviate the problem. If you are not in the health care field, you might be wondering, why does any of this matter to me?

As I have been reading through the entire Bible with our Ponce community, I have been struck by how great God’s heart is for the poor, the fatherless, the widow, the orphan, and the oppressed. In fact, I have started highlighting every time God talks about defending the defenseless and helping the helpless and I am amazed how often He shares His passion about this subject. Being a Christ follower means that we are being sanctified to look more like Christ every day—in this case, I would argue, this means our hearts for the oppressed should be growing as well. Every human of every race and people group bears the image of God which means every human deserves respect and dignity. I believe it is our role as believers and as the Church universal to fight for justice and equity in each of our own spheres of influence, lifting up our fellow image-bearers and paying special attention to those who historically have been oppressed.

For me, that has looked like educating myself in how my field of work has been affected by and sometimes guilty of taking away human dignity instead of promoting human flourishing. Beyond educating myself, I have felt called to the education of others and brainstorming ways to make changes in my field to be more inclusive and equitable. My challenge to you today would be to think of what small step you can take to bring Christ’s love for the downtrodden in your sphere. How has systemic or structural racism affected your neighborhood, your workplace, your family? Are there organizations that are working to reduce disparity and increase equity in your area that you can support? How can you use any position of power or privilege you have in your community to lift up those who are disadvantaged? How can you grow to know God’s heart for the poor and poor in spirit and let His heart affect your day-to-day actions? We have a long way to go, but I am praying that we could all act like “racism cancer researchers,” detecting areas of our lives where we need God’s help to treat this disease.

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Racist--Who Me?

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I have black friends!  I’ve hired black people!  I’ve never burned a cross!  To paraphrase an Atlanta native – “If you’ve said one of these things, you might be a racist.”  And truth be told I’m a racist and I’ve been on a journey to grow since I became a Christian.  In fact, my faith has been the main driver of my realization that my behaviors and thoughts have been racist. 

Let’s set some context so we’re all on the same page and use the definition of a racist as follows from the Cambridge Dictionary – “someone who believes that their race makes them better, more intelligent, more moral, etc. than people of other races and who does or says unfair or harmful things” – I’d like to emphasize the “says” portion of the definition and state that these are driven by our thoughts.

Now some background on my journey.  I've been a direct participant in racism through word and deed when younger, whether I was telling a joke, insulting someone on the court/field or when angry and filled with rage blaming someone for just being of a certain color skin.  In hindsight these actions were driven out of fear that somehow acknowledging “them” as equals or admit that “they” might actually be better than me.  After all, all I heard my whole like was how “they are” different and not as smart as “us” nor able to do what “we” can.  This wasn’t a direct education, but generally spoken of and implied by action and deed of my family and friends.

As I got older, took “real” jobs, and wanted to advance a career I changed my words and actions, but this was not out of a true change of heart, but rather out of “political correctness.”  I was a Christian at this time, but it was early in my sanctification process so didn’t truly understand what “love your neighbor as yourself” meant and how I was supposed to live out my faith.

Only as I made a conscious decision to study, learn, and grow in my faith did real change happen, and this wasn’t an easy or pleasant path.   The first step I had to realize in this journey is that as a child of God, I'm OK. Who I am, all that I have, and all that I will be is from God alone. Mentally recognizing this was relatively easy compared to the changes that still needed to happen in my heart.  Taking down the walls around my own heart, letting my ego go, recognizing that, and being free enough to rely on my faith alone, stepping up, speaking out and doing what God has defined as "right" is hard.

The change is hard because as you let go you can expect personal attacks from friends, coworkers, and even family. They don’t always call you out for not using slurs but say subtle things like “you’ve changed.”  You might not get invited out to a game, for a beer, or just to hang out anymore. It’s guaranteed your life will change.

When I look at what’s going on today (not just around the country but also with people I know), the denial of racial issues or statements such as “Racist – Who Me?” lead me to ask – “Really are you kidding me!”  Of course, there’s racism going on and I’m not going to specifically accuse anyone of being a racist, but please read the following topics and honestly think through the possibility that you’re racist.

Black Lives Matter

When you say or think things like “All Lives Matter” or “Blue Live Matter,” etc., I want to ask you – when was the last time you said “All Cancers Matter.” or in October during Breast Cancer Awareness Month say “Prostate Cancer Matters” you don’t.  So, you need to ask yourself “Why?”

Removal of Confederate Monuments

You say, “They’re just representing history, they don’t represent slavery or anything bad.”, really?  Haven’t you cheered when at the end of World War II, statues of Hitler and Nazi symbols were taken down? What about when the Berlin Wall fell, a sign of the end of Communism you cheered.  When you saw statues of Saddam Hussain being ripped down on TV you cheered.  All those statues and symbols represented history as well, why is it OK to take those down but leave Confederate statues up?  Why can’t these symbols of evil history be removed like the others?

White Supremacy

White Supremacy shows itself in many forms, not just the obvious white-hooded portrayals of the KKK we see in movies, TV shows, and history books. White Supremacy is not only historical. It is happening here and now.  The chart below can give you some context for what I’m trying to describe.

OWS--Best Size.jpg

Reading the Covert portion will be painful and should cause self-reflection, but that’s a good thing. This is what we are charged to do as Christians.  Just read Acts 10:34-35 and John 13:34, where we’re told to “love one another: just as I have loved you.”

Even the image of Jesus we know has roots in racism. Yes, the tall, long-haired white Jesus is nothing like what Jesus looked like. This image was created in the 13th – 16th centuries by artists like Leonardo da Vinci (the famous “Last Supper”) and Michelangelo (the “Last Judgment” in the Sistine Chapel), then brought throughout the world as Europeans colonized the rest of the world.  Scripture tells us that Jesus “had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him” (Isaiah 53:2). Based on scripture telling us that Jesus was nothing special to look at, how odd do you think a tall, white, long straight-haired Jesus would have been in Israel during the time of Jesus?  Our Savior’s image has been changed to fit our white sensibilities so we would find him acceptable to us.

If you feel bad after a bit of self-reflection on these things, that’s OK because right now is the perfect time to begin your journey of change and understanding.  You’ve heard our church discuss these topics in sermons and offer classes to increase understanding. Now it’s time for you to take the next step in your journey. 

Even though it may seem hard, realize that racism/being a racist is a sin like any other sin and your faith provides forgiveness, the God-given, gospel-centered strength to move forward and change.  There is proof of this in the Bible, like 2 Corinthians 4:8-10 – “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.”

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Divided in Christ: Confronting White Supremacy in the Church

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2021 kicked off with the Confederate flag marching through the U.S. Capitol. Not far from it, in the same crowd, flew a giant flag reading: JESUS SAVES.

Many Christians who are not Black themselves have condemned the ties between our faith and White supremacy. But many have not.

And that has meant division.

We all cope with this conflict differently. Maybe you try to “win” with information, emailing articles or videos that may or may not ever get opened. Maybe you get into interruption-filled shouting matches. Maybe you try to change the subject to something safer—work, school, the kids. 

Maybe you have been through all of these phases.

And maybe, for some, you have ended up cut off or cutting off entirely. You just couldn’t see eye to eye. And then came the pandemic as a convenient excuse to stay away.

Christian Strangers

What happens now? Is there hope for reunification of God’s hands and feet when the cancer of White supremacy has invaded so many of her organs?

One of the hardest feelings through all this is often a sense of shock, of looking at familiar faces and seeing racist strangers. How can my sweet mother lecture me about George Floyd’s criminal record? How can my uncle, an elder at his church, insist that a post-Obama America is by definition post-racial? How can my neighbor, who taught me in Sunday School, claim to believe the Gospel and still stick to saying “All Lives Matter”?

In some ways, as a Chinese-American, discovering fellow Christians’ racism is less of a surprise. It’s not a secret to many Asian-Americans that anti-Blackness and colorism are rampant within our communities, and you can’t grow up as one of the few non-White kids in an Ohio suburb without discovering a lot of your White neighbors are racist.

Spirit-Led Change

I’ve read and seen a lot that makes me skeptical things will change. Even though it’s mostly about politics, Ezra Klein’s book Why We’re Polarized talks a lot about how for humans, survival usually depended on whether your community accepted you more than whether you were right about facts or morals. So our brains are wired to believe what most people around us believe.

And “people around us” is not just people physically around—zero of my friends or family who continue to hold on to racist views do so without being exposed to a lot of White supremacy through social media, the radio they listen to, and the TV they watch. For some, it’s literally hours upon hours a day.

So if we think logic or facts or a friendly conversation in which no one loses their cool is enough to change someone’s views, we’re being naive. No matter how antiracist you are, will you be able to disentangle your loved one from her entire support community, who might eject her for actually daring to change her mind? 

But sometimes it takes obstacles that feel insurmountable to realize that no obstacle is surmountable without God’s help.

We can remain hopeful because the same Holy Spirit who awakened us to repentance is alive in the most racist of his children. The church as a whole, including many White Christians, has shifted thanks to the Spirit’s work, and I have to believe He is not only after low-hanging fruit. 

I confess to often taking the change-the-subject route over the last year. But speaking with a friend recently convinced me that this is not the right way to go, that far from putting myself in a box it is putting God in a box. I believe that God’s desire is for his whole church to embrace the whole counsel of his Word, and that the same Word has power to change hearts where facts alone fall short.

Believing the Gospel

Some churches try to silence teaching about racism by saying “just stick to the Gospel.” One framework of the Gospel describes it as “Creation, Fall, Redemption, Consummation.” Often, with fellow Christians, we assume we understand and agree on what all of these words mean and how they apply to our lives and our world.

And maybe it’s exactly those assumptions that have allowed Satan to so deeply divide us.

For example, regarding creation: we agree God made humans in his image. But why did he create us different races? How do people of different races bear the image of God?

Or, fall: Is racism a manifestation of the fall? If so, is it limited to individuals or does it reach whole systems and societies?

Redemption: If racism is a part of the fall, how do believers repent of it and participate in God’s work of redeeming the world from it?

And finally and most sharply for me, consummation: John describes a vision of saints of every nation, tribe, tongue, and language before the throne. (Revelation 7:9) Clearly, God sees color and has no intention of un-seeing it or erasing it. The wedding feast of the Lamb is not going to just be steak and potatoes. But what does that mean for right now?

As I write these questions and consider many others like them, I think of Christian friends and family who have expressed racist views. I know these are questions we have never discussed. In our rush to argue about police reform or affirmative action or immigrant family separation, we assumed we agreed on the Gospel and now I’m questioning that assumption.

“The Gospel” is not just a cute stick figure drawing in a tract. The Bible gives us so much more to dig into, forces us to confront so many more questions when we really think about how Jesus’ good news impacts every complexity of human life. Ignoring all of these deeper layers of meaning is not sticking to the Gospel but neutering it, remaking it in our image rather than using the minds God gave us to understand all that it is.

Safety in Theology

If you’re like me, you are not really in the habit of talking about theology with fellow Christians outside of a Bible study context. In some ways it feels kind of awkward and scary.

But, in some ways it actually isn’t scary at all. At least, it’s not as scary as talking about White supremacy. It doesn’t put up people’s defenses. It’s not something most people tend to shout about. The stakes don’t feel as high, even though in reality they are eternally high.

And that’s why as a deeply divided church, we need to return to what we all claim to believe and start from there. We are standing on two opposite ends of a Venn diagram yelling at each other rather than prayerfully seeking to build the crumbling shared ground in between. 

Careful Consideration

In our recent Women’s Bible Studies on Hebrews, we have read how Scripture instructs us to “consider how to stir one another up to love and good works...encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” (Hebrews 10:25)

The word “consider” has always struck me, because it implies that it’s not always straightforward how to stir your brother or sister up to love. It takes thought. It takes a lot of prayer. It takes wisdom and creativity, trying and failing and returning to the drawing board to try again.

As the Day draws near, the stakes keep getting higher. Racism in the church trickles down to violence against many people of color, whether individual or structural.

And because of racism in the church, many non-Christians reject Christ. When asked how they’d describe evangelicals in general, 17% of non-Christians in a recent Barna survey said “racist.” It may not seem like a high number, but if almost 1 in 5 nonbelievers views the church this way, the same number are unlikely to give serious consideration to the person of Jesus. 

Yes, the structures of systemic racism and the obstacles of misinformation seem insurmountable. But we do not face them by ourselves. Our God speaks light out of darkness, opens the eyes of the blind, breaks chains and topples empires. We may not see God end racism in the church on this side of heaven, but we know that he can. So let’s pray, let’s preach, let’s rest if we need to, but let’s not give up hope.

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A White Mother’s Plea For Her Black Son

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To the Women of color in my life who’ve led and guided me in this transracial adoptive walk. To the God of faithfulness and everlasting grace. 

Brown hands hold

Contrasting against the paleness of mine.

My grip holding 

So tight—

Closing my eyes to the ever unfolding 

Stories and wrongs that 

Transcend belief.

Lord, how long have you heard 

The cries of black mothers?

Lord, forgive my pride

Seeped in self-worth.

My strength—

Derived in privilege.

My rosy glasses

Glossing over 400 years of abuse.

Thinking that I know enough

That change will happen

While I sit with hands folded.

Lord, mend us.

Let them hear: 

I cannot BREATHE.

Enough is enough.

Let them see my son 

When he is grown

As beautiful.

As created in your image.

As worthy.

Lord, help me to let go.

Trust—that you love my black son

More than this heart pumping inside my breast

That bleeds with our lost sons

Tamir 

Michael

Ahmed

Names I cannot name—

Their mothers who also weep.

Hear our cries, O Lord.

Lord, guide my heart.

Break down my anger for those

Who Choose not to see the inequality. 

Who Say they don’t see color.

Don’t See the injustice.

The Layers of dark cruel history 

Defining the unconscious designs

That my son stands upon

And defines his future and lifespan.


Lord, help me to see my son grown. 

Preserve his beautiful joy

His sensitive spirit

His fulfilling promise as a son of the King. 

Let not his head be bowed to anyone but You. 

Protect his head, his heart 

From the impending weight 

That shackles his brothers. 

Mercy, rain down on all of us. 

‘Three-fifths’ and the Gospel

Let me begin by stating that I admit that I am not a historian or a scholar of constitutional law. Even so, I have always been astounded by the ‘three-fifths’ phrase in the Fourth Amendment. What about the theology of the Imago Dei? And, to add insult to injury, this term is so contradictory to the words we find in the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” How could this have been thought acceptable by such educated men, many of whom were committed Christians? For example, John Witherspoon, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, was a Scottish American Presbyterian minister and a Founding Father of the United States.[1] He was the only active clergyman to sign the Declaration. In 1789, he was the convening moderator of the First General Assembly of Presbyterian Church in the United States.[2] Being that the Declaration is so closely tied to someone in our own family tree, as Presbyterians, makes it all the more unsettling in its assessment of the value of other human beings. Naturally, it cuts at the core of how many African-Americans understand their self-worth. In an effort to understand this psychological wound, I thought it would be beneficial to better understand the driving forces behind the three-fifths wording. My hope is that my brief investigation may uncover damaging societal lies, while also discovering how the gospel might apply to the hearts of living with this part of American history, myself included.

My look into the “three-fifths” phrase took me back to the very founding of our country. The Constitutional Rights Foundation states that “at the time these words were written, more than 500,000 black Americans were slaves. Slaves accounted for about one-fifth of the population in the American colonies, most of which lived in the South.”[3] Even so, there were many colonists, even slaveholders, who opposed slavery; Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and others made disparaging comments about the practice. Despite public statements of disapproval, the issue of slavery and personhood was not even addressed until 1787, when the Constitution was finally ratified. It was during the creation of the House & Senate, which was addressing the power dynamics related to population and representation, that led to the designation of black people as “three-fifths” of a person.[4] So, this insane position was driven by the pursuit of power in our national politics, a compromise between the colonies of the North and those of the South. In particular, the “three-fifths” compromise functioned as a way of keeping a representative balance between the North and the South. Think about that for a minute! The dehumanization of Black people was partially driven by not wanting to lose control in national politics. Black people were a bargaining chip in the early days of our country’s creation, a tool for regional and national power. Of course, there were many other reasons for maintaining this system. Free labor and the greed of economic gain were vital. As a result, the structuring of our society in terms of race became all the more legally evident, even following the Civil War and the end of slavery in 1865.

Following the death of Abraham Lincoln, the presidency of Andrew Johnson began the period of Reconstruction, which was meant to help provide a mental, psychological, political, and economic corrective to a society that had gotten used to seeing Black people as less than human. From 1865 to 1877, the federal government, with the help of Union troops and temporary governors, were able to create a space where Black folks could fully engage in the life of the republic. During this period the constitution was amended to give them full access to American citizenship and its privileges. Of course, slavery had already been permanently prohibited with the passing of the Thirteenth Amendment in 1865, and the wording “three-fifths” was removed from the Fourth Amendment in 1868. In addition, African-Americans began to be elected to state and national offices and were making economic gains in various fields. However, following the end of Reconstruction, a leadership vacuum opened the door for the disenfranchisement of Black citizens through Jim Crow policies and White supremacist terrorism from the KKK.

Such dehumanizing acts and horrific organizations are nothing new in the breadth of human history. Unfortunately, at the core of all this is the human tendency to consider oneself more valuable than “the Other.” The starting point for this was the Garden of Eden, where the Serpent, Adam, and Eve thought they knew reality better than Creator God. By their act of defiance, they demonstrated their willingness to stage a coup against God. As a result, their sin started a chain reaction that has perpetuated such attitudes throughout human existence. This rebellious strain has been passed on through the generations (see Romans 5). Consider, for example, Genesis 11 and the scattering of the people at the Tower of Babel, where God confused the peoples by giving them different languages. With such confusion, an even a deeper level of uncertainty, fear, and anxiety worked its way into human experience. Consequently, power struggles increased between people groups and empires, which were driven by a desire to dominate others and prove the supremacy of their god(s). In fact, the ancient Israelites and other peoples in the Ancient Near East tried to convey their supremacy over defeated foes through ancient covenants, the language of which could be quite dehumanizing. Even God’s people, Israel, dehumanized their own people and others, just read Isaiah, Jeremiah, Micah, and Nehemiah, which all deal with the treatment of the poor, or John 4, which deals with their view of the Samaritans, or Acts 10 on treatment of the Gentiles, to name only a few.

The objective of this post has been to show that degrading the image of God in “the Other” has deep roots that trace back to the beginning of creation. As such, I do not believe there has been a culture in human history that has not been involved in some form of de-valuing of the Lord’s image bearers. So yes, the “three-fifths” designation for African-Americans is a deep stain on the American conscience and the American “record,” but it’s a stain on the garment of every human culture. We thus make ourselves into a mockery in mocking the image of God in others. And yet, the story of redemption is about how the only “true image-bearer” seeks to restore us to our true selves. Stay tuned... more on that story is coming throughout the month of February. 

  1. [1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Witherspoon

  2. [2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Witherspoon

  3. [3] https://www.crf-usa.org/black-history-month/the-constitution-and-slavery

  4. [4] https://www.crf-usa.org/black-history-month/the-constitution-and-slavery