Worldview

A Few Thoughts on the Sh*thole Countries and a Response

MigrantsIn the midst of figuring out a road forward on DACA and comprehensive immigration reform, President Trump made a statement about countries who had the most need for support/relief in the form of the United States granting immigration status to their citizens. He called them “shithole countries.” A few thoughts:
  1. We can’t let our political paralysis keep us from speaking up and out against hateful, racism when we hear it. Often times in the name of “not getting political” good intentioned people (who are deeply disturbed by the language coming out of the White House) remain silent. I get it. There are implications to saying stuff that may be interpreted as “political” or as jumping off the party line, but that’s no excuse to passively perpetuate hateful rhetoric and action at the expense of those on the receiving end of it. If we’re honest, that paralysis is a fear rooted in an assumption that our political allegiance is more important that our kingdom allegiance. Let’s choose the latter EVERY time. After all, the king of our kingdom came from Nazareth…a “sh*thole” town that wasn’t supposed to have anything good come from it. 
  2. There is always more to the story and we have to become students of the nuance, not the soundbites. For example, if we did a collective study on the story of these sh*tholecountries, we’d need to pay attention to the way US foreign policy and militarism is marbled into their destabilization. It’s easy to point fingers as if we aren’t part of the problem. It’s much harder to become students of conflict and ask necessary questions of our contribution or perpetuation of it. Speaking specifically of Central America, it important we remember that US policy/violence in 80’s led to refugees coming to US without support…which led to gangs…which led to their deportation back to Central America…which led to civil war…which then led to current crisis. This information isn’t hidden in a vault, we just have to be willing to dig into the discomfort.
  3. I have four little kids who we are giving our lives to invite into the generous, compassionate, faithful and countercultural way of Jesus. Because the language and actions of our President, my very young kids are being exposed to words and realities as a pace we can’t control. Even if they don’t read the tweets or hear the interviews, it still makes it way to them at school or overhearing our adult discussion or walking down the street. On one hand, I lament that in any given moment, I can never expose my kids to the words of the President without fear of what they may hear. On the other, this is a dynamic moment in history that can be used an opportunity to form our children into a generation with tools of discernment, actions of justice and a healthy distrust of the assumed integrity of those in leadership. Rather than isolating our kiddos from our societal brokenness, let’s expose them to it in a way that invites them to be part of it’s healing. For us, it’ll start by taking our kids down to Mexico to spend some time in a migrant shelter to hang out with the beautiful, brave and heroic Central American mothers and kids on the move. 
  4. In this moment, what are creative ways we can celebrate the humanity, dignity and image of God in our sisters and brothers from Africa, Haiti and Central America? Let’s not get even by lowing ourselves to the same game of name calling, but get creative in love by building uncommon friendships and partnership across borders. 
On the journey together may we go…

The Pipeline Continues: May We Hear the Voice(s) of the People

IMG_7344Last month, I found myself sitting in a tent listening to the Sioux tribal elders at Standing Rock reflect on the implications of the Dakota Access Pipeline halt. In arctic temperatures surrounded by domestic and international reporters, one of the elders (pic) described the tribe’s genuine celebration at the halt and proceeded to elaborate on its significance.

In the next breath, his words turned somber as he walked through hundreds of years of interaction between the US government and his tribe (and the wider Native American community). He systematically walked through treaty after treaty after treaty and lamented the fact that the very government that had proposed them had broken each one.

He said, “While we celebrate this temporary victory, we have hundreds of years of history that remind us to never trust the promises of the government. Companies have responsibility to investors. We have responsibility to be stewards of the water. Oil is malignant to the planet and those who find life from it.

Ocheti camp will remain and double our efforts to protect this land, river and home. All seven tribes of souix have gathered for first time in 140 years. Former enemies are standing together for the land we’ve been entrusted to steward.

We have not broken any laws. We have conducted ourselves in a prayerful and peaceful way. We are not protestors or terrorists or rioters, we are in fact water protectors.

We pray for the law enforcement officials everyday. We want to walk across the bridge and shake hands. Dakota means “friend.” The people and place reflect that. We will continue to feed and keep warm everyone in this camp.”

As I listened, I couldn’t help but be both inspired and saddened. In the case of Native American’s in general and the Sioux at Standing Rock specifically, we have largely chosen to see only the realities that affirm our inherited worldview or benefited our bottom line. As a result, there are real people standing on real land that are hurting and pleading for us to listen. They stewarded this land long before white Europeans arrived and continue to bear the responsibility of caring for it for the generations to come.

Today, President Donald Trump signed an executive action greenlighting the Dakota Access Pipeline, which had been halted to seek alternative routes. The original route, under Lake Oahe, would have threatened the Standing Rock Sioux’s drinking water and sacred lands.

Having stood with and been cared for by these remarkable people, I have the responsibility to at the very least share their story. As inhabitants of the same plot of soil we call the US, I would argue it is not only their story, but our story.

May we listen. May we lament. May we act by standing in front of any bulldozer that is flattening people.

The Opportunity of Raising Kids in This Crazy World

kidsHaving spent the last couple days getting solo time with my kiddos, I’ve never been more convinced that the way we raise the next generation will be our greatest contribution to healing a broken world. The stakes are high. 

Let’s not shelter our kids, but invite them into the beautiful and broken realities of our world.

Let’s not hide them from the darkness, but accompany them into the midst of it.

Let’s teach them to lead with curiosity, ask great questions and be discontent with the status quo.

Let’s help them not be color blind, but color competent. 

Let’s give them the gift of community that keep them rooted in an interdependent network of relationships and specific place that shapes their view of God and others. 

Let’s teach them to have their lives marked by what they’re for rather than what they’re against. 

Let’s teach them to identify their inherited privilege and choose to leverage or give it away for the flourishing of those who don’t have it. 

Let’s give them the freedom to question, doubt and wrestle with their faith and inherited narratives.

Let’s create a safe space for them to identify our blind spots and help us reframe, reform and renew the stories we tell ourselves. 

Most importantly, let’s live the kind of lives we would want our kids to live by not only passing along a set of ideals, but modeling a set of practices in every day life. 

And, in the end, when we inevitably screw up, may we have the kind of grace on ourselves as has been given to us. 

This is a our best “weapon” against the pain, violence and division of our world.

Listen to My Interview with Morgan Freeman from the Holy Land

A few months ago, I had the incredible opportunity to do an in-person interview with one of the most iconic figures of the silver screen, Morgan Freeman. As anticipated, his presence was both stoic and warm and his voice as silky smooth as imagined. I’m just disappointed I didn’t ask him to record my voicemail message. Alas, we had a great conversation about themes in his recent National Geographic Channel show, The Story of God. You can read the interview and my reflections on it in this article.

Fast forward a couple months and I heard from his team about doing an audio interview with Morgan while I was leading a delegation through the Holy Land…because there is no more appropriate location to discuss the different ways religions view God than in the place where Jews, Christians and Muslims find a common home. So, while overlooking the Sea of Galilee in Northern Israel, I was able to fire up Skype and record this conversation I had with Morgan and his colleague Lori McCreary (Executive Producer of The Story of God and Madam Secretary). We talk fear of the “other,” multi-faith understandings of God -- and how that impacts our common call to love our neighbor -- and a handful of other fascinating topics. Listen in by clicking on the recording below the picture. Enjoy! 

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The Idol of Safety

safetyIn the wake of another heinous attack taking the lives of innocent civilians, the world feels increasingly unstable. The violence “over there” is no longer relegated to headlines on the other side of the world; it is edging closer to our doorsteps and threatens to invade our everyday lives. 

In light of this reality, conversations ranging from our coffee shops to the halls of political power are shouting out the necessity to pursue security and safety above anything else. 

I get it. 

As a father of four little kids, there has never been a season in my life when I’ve felt more compelled toward security and safety. I can’t begin to comprehend the disorientation and paralyzing pain that would come with the harm of my family. 

For the past five years, I have regularly been traveling to conflict zones in the Middle East, but the more kids I have waiting for me to safely return home, the harder it gets to step on that plane and make an intentional decision to move toward exposing myself to violence. 

In short, when I hear our current political candidates talking about the paramount importance of “security” and “safety,” it strikes a chord and I find myself tempted to stand up and applaud.

AND THEN I PAUSE, step back for a moment, ask some harder questions of where my applause is coming from, and consider my kingdom allegiance marked by One who moved toward rather than away from potential violence.

I’m convicted that my desire to applaud this “security at any cost” rhetoric and policy is a temptation to worship the idol of safety. It is not something to be admired, it is something to be acknowledged, questioned and repented of (turned away from). Worshiping the idol of safety greatly inhibits our ability to worship the crucified and risen Jesus.

It’s not that I don’t want safety for me, my family or the world. I actually want that more than ever, but when I look at this through the lens of discipleship (following Jesus), here are the issues I’m wresting with today:

  1. The objective of terrorism is to instill fear. Politicians then use that fear to shape a reality that advances their agenda. What they are offering us is nothing more than a pseudo-reality that requires we have the discernment to see through the smokescreen to what is actually real. My desire for safety is real, but in reality, I should be far more concerned about a car wreck, chronic disease or natural disaster than terrorism. When I begin making decisions from a place of fear, I not only buy into a pseudo-reality that is being crafted by political power plays, I begin to close my eyes to the new and dynamic ways God is calling me to join in the world he is making. 
  2. The means through which we pursue safety often force us to compromise our kingdom identity and can lead to less safety. First, let me acknowledge that political leaders are responsible to tend to the safety of citizens and can make the decisions they feel are necessary to do so. With that said, we, as the Church, can’t allow our political allegiance to trump our kingdom allegiance. When we worship the idol of “safety,” we can quickly compromise our kingdom witness and begin to justify the means through which safety is achieved. For example, when we celebrate the death of other human beings because it means we are “safer,” we may be worshiping the idol of safety rather than the enemy-loving God embodied in Jesus. When we demonize and punish entire groups of people (the vast majority of whom have no desire to do us harm) for the sake of our “safety,” we may be worshiping the idol of safety rather than a Jesus who loved indiscriminately. When we reject the very people (many of whom are children!) who are fleeing violence for the sake of our “safety,” we may be worshiping the idol of safety rather than a Jesus who calls us to care for the “strangers in our midst.” Finally, while these may feel like safety measures, it is growingly clear that these means don’t lead to a lasting, sustainable security and safety. Rather, they more often lead to resentment, oppression and instability, which then breads more violence. 
  3. I can’t reconcile withdrawal, isolation and a posture of defense with a God who moved toward violence, brokenness and “the other” in Jesus. As Ive been wresting with this idol of safety, I’ve repeatedly been convicted by this truth; Jesus never called us to be safe; he called us to be faithful. According to Jesus, faithfulness moves us beyond love of neighbor to love of enemy. If pursuit of my safety trumps my ability to love whoever God has in my path, fear wins and I distance myself from God’s heart for the world. How can I love my “enemy” if I don’t know them? The idol of safety moves us away from people who are different than us and sends us inward to those who look, think and act like we do. There is no love outside of relationship; there is only misunderstanding, demonization and stereotype. Lastly, how can we know our “enemy” if we don’t cross the borders that divide us? The Jesus Way requires we reject the temptation to move inward and continually calls us to move toward “the other.”  

Interestingly, I find myself wresting through this stuff during Holy Week. This is the week in which Jesus models to the world life as it was meant to be lived. It is a life marked not by isolation or triumphant overthrow, but by suffering, sacrifice and selfless love for the flourishing of others. It is a life that crosses borders and boundaries to reassign the humanity, dignity and the image of God in all the “wrong” people with whom he should have feared and stayed away from. A life that ended with the uttering of this prayer for his enemies, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” These are the stories we tell in Sunday School and say, “Wow, Jesus is a bad ass. He wasn’t scared of anything and I would do anything to live and love like that.” 

Imagine if instead he chose to worship the idol of safety and never left the safety of his little Galilean synagogue so he could read Torah and remain isolated from all the violence of the world? That story would not only suck, it wouldn’t reflect the heart of a God who literally moved into our human neighborhood to remind us what love looks like. 

So, during this Holy Week, let’s pay attention to the very understandable fear, paralysis and temptation to worship the idol of safety. If I’m completely honest, I’m still having a hard time with this. This is not easy stuff and I’m not happy about having to make these intentional decisions to keep perspective in a world that feels so unstable. But, friends, this is the beauty, challenge and mystery of choosing to follow an enemy-loving God who -- this Holy Week -- invites us to love to the point of death, while being fueled by the hope and reality of Resurrection. 

May it be so. 

 

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