"Occupy Ancient Israel" with Ezekiel the Hipster

I am a white, American, educated, young, healthy, straight, married, middle-class, Christian male. I am the envy of the world, the cream of the crop, the top 1% of the global caste system. I have good intentions and hope to have an influence for good in the world. But the responsibility of the influence I already have by virtue of being born is overwhelming. I turn on the TV, drive through downtown, travel the world and I’m absolutely overwhelmed with the need I see. “Surly,” I say, “I wasn’t made to feel this level of obligation or guilt!” So I’m driven to a cloistered suburban existence to escape the desperation surrounding me. I’ve perfected those weathered “isn’t-that-sad” and “what-can-you-do” looks.

I like the attitude of Jesus toward the poor: unthreatened yet unfazed. He could seamlessly navigate the social spectrum. Ironically, he didn’t have a “messiah complex” toward the poor. But he did have a knack for bringing the marginalized into the foreground. I find that radical tension compelling, but I’m unable to do it. I’m alternately consumed with guilt or apathy.

But while obligation can be toxic, I’ve been transfixed by the prophetic admonitions of Ezekiel in the Old Testament about the poor, widows, and aliens (not the green kind). I’m afraid we might be repeating history here.

“There is a conspiracy of [Israel’s] princes within her like a roaring lion tearing its prey; they devour people, take treasures and precious things and make many widows within her… The people of the land practice extortion and commit robbery; they oppress the poor and needy and mistreat the alien, denying them justice. I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none.” (Ez. 25-30)

Do I do that? Do I mistreat the marginalized and extort the poor? Not consciously, no. But in my lifestyle, I give a passive nod to a status quo that encourages dishonest gains and wealth building on the backs of the poor and desperate. I have heard several lines to redirect guilt in my own head and on the lips of others:

*The urban poor lack work ethic and therefore become leeches on the system. Why give them jobs and education opportunities since their deficiencies are culturally hardwired and they are bound to disappoint?

*If an immigrant comes here illegally why should he enjoy the same wages, benefits, and equality as legal citizens? That’s the natural consequence of his illegal behavior.

*5 families crowded into one house? Well they’re not American, so that’s “normal” to them.

*I’M not a slave-owner, loan-shark, or sweatshop manager! These are the sad realities of life so what am I supposed to do? I’m just trying to get along and raise my family, make an honest living, or _______ (insert what you’re “trying to do” here).

In this ONE area, I deeply appreciate the Occupy movement. They’re not afraid to stand up in all their powerlessness and say, “we’re not okay with corruption, injustice, or abusive capitalism.” They’re willing to stand up to those who cheated their way to the top and demand equity.  I respect that, and for that reason alone, I’d willingly camp out at the capital. (Oh wait… I forgot. They’re just jealous hipsters, hoping some wall street brokers will come along and write them into their wills.)

Seriously though, the finger pointing back at us is this: If you can drive your own car to an Occupy protest, you are NOT the 99%. Globally, you are the 1%.  If you have 3 square organic meals daily and a yurt to shelter you at night and an herbalist to cure what ails you, then YOU my friend, ARE “The Man.”  This is the great irony and hypocrisy of middle-class social activism in America.

But I’ve found that even if my generation is broadly hypocritical, we are also hardwired by advertising and pluralism with the most finely-tuned bullshit radars in the world. We know when we’re being fed a line and get pretty pissed about it.

I wish the church had beat the hipsters to the punch. I wish the churches in this country would stand at the front lines against extortion rather than excuse or ignore it for the sake of the tithing members sitting in the pews.

I’m still not sure what I’m supposed to do. Even as I type, I’m wearing a great “well-isn’t-that-just-life” look. But fully aware of my own hypocrisy, I’ll still stand up alongside Ezekiel and other Old Testament prophets to demand justice, seek solidarity with the marginalized, love the poor, and pray for the world. Anyways, it’s a start.

Emerging

I've taken a break from blogging, emailing, and generally talking about my life for over a month now. I haven't felt I had a lot to say, or maybe I was afraid that what I had to say would take too much energy. So I've had my head in the sand trying to do my job and not think a lot about my life.

I've been a bit depressed this last month. After coming back from our 5-week road trip, we spent a solid week trying to recover some of the emotional and spiritual gusto we'd had prior to leaving. But after a week of hanging around the house, we still weren't rested but were becoming increasingly restless (funny how that works). We went to a conference about the Holy Spirit in Chicago and felt numb the whole weekend. We went to a similar conference in Duluth the next weekend and had a similar experience. I felt very low. A sudden impulse to grow a beard, speak quietly, read books, and wear baggy clothes seized me. I developed a strong gag reflex for charisma, vanity, and competitive personal ambition (all the things I saw in myself and other young ministry hopefuls like me).

But in my "lowness", a couple cool things are emerging. One is a solidarity with my wife who was experiencing the same thing. There is this in-it-together feel to our marriage that I like better than the blast-off-and-leave-you-behind feeling I'd had previously. I feel more willing to hazard traditionally awkward habits like praying together because we were on the same page emotionally.

The other thing emerging is a fresh dose of courage in my life. I'd been asking God to remove people-pleasing and instill courage to act and speak out of my conviction rather than out of my personal insecurity. He showed me that the first step in learning this was to throw myself under the relational "bus" by walking into situations where I risked rejection. I thought the impetus for this leap of faith would come through a spiritual "booster shot", a renewed optimism and energy for life. But in reality, He used my personal desperation as the vehicle for courage.

I felt I didn't have much to lose. So I became more willing to say and do bold things. I spoke with hazardous conviction to several people close to me. I became more willing to speak out of the little God promptings in my life with confidence that he'll show up. And wouldn't you know it, a lot of times He did! I'm hoping that these lessons in trust will snowball into consistent personal gutsy-ness. But the only way to do that is to get cozy with that knot in my stomach every time I take a relational risk.

I suppose I'm writing this now because I'm beginning to emerge from my baggy-shirt lowness this week. I've had a few neat experiences that have given me some renewed optimism. I'm glad to be happier this week than the previous 6. But as I emerge emotionally, I want to hang on to the realness, the courage, and the solidarity I began to see in that valley. Will I now re-opt for the image of the promising, popular, goateed Christian male? Or can I displace vanity, embrace humility, and walk with courage? I'm hopeful today that God's not through with me.

Bing Crosby goes Rambo: Thoughts on Christmas and the Incarnation

Been thinking about Christmas. Right after Halloween, the music in Walmart turned Bing Crosby on me and the lights started to go up around town. Some parts of the holidays make my stomach churn: everything turns Hallmark and pristine. For a month (or several months in some stores) our whole society turns into "It's a Wonderful Life." At it's worse, it loosens our wallets and diets in the spirit of warm liberality. At it's best, it encourages "peace on earth, good will towards men" as a short respite from calamitous times. But the kitsch wears on me after a while. I get tired of the porcelain figurines, and the bigger versions in front of churches: a baby among barn animals with angels looking on adoringly. Awwww... cute. Sometimes I just can't take it seriously.

But what I do take seriously; What I love about Christmas is the Incarnation, the literal "enfleshment" of God. It's God's outrageous all-or-nothing effort to pursue the hearts of mankind and rescue them from death. Like Hannibal crossing the Alps to attack Rome from the north... It's so crazy, it just might work. For centuries, God had spoken to Israel through prophets, warning of imminent doom, yet hinting at a rescue plan, a renewal of David's royal line, bigger and broader than anyone imagined. And it starts in the Death Star's tiny access chute, a chink in Satan's cosmic armor: a baby in a barn. Perfect. Having no natural humility, the enemy would never think to look for the Messiah in the humblest place.

So Jesus is air-dropped under the radar deep behind enemy lines. In my imagination, the manger is cold and dark. Mary and Joseph are scared and exhausted. The angels are six-winged creatures, covered in sleepless eyes, terrifying yet awed by God's perfectly upside-down plan. The baby has this quiet about-to-kick-some-ass look about him. It looks more like "Lord of the Rings" and less like "A Charlie Brown Christmas."

To me, the incarnation is hopelessly beautiful. It's God stopping at nothing to change everything. Yearning for His creation to know and follow Him, he puts all His cards on the table and finds a way to inflict our punishment on Himself. Becoming one of us, God-in-flesh begins to whisper about a new revolution: a Kingdom that transcends national boundaries, an inside-out redemption of all things. Like the Israelites enslaved in Egypt, God has a plan to loot the enemy's  kingdom and leave it desolate and hollow through the ultimate espionage. It begins with God conquering death by dying. It moves forward into a new "race" of people, a race of the "living dead" (dead to the dreams of this world, alive in God's Spirit and Kingdom) sabotaging the enemy in his own territory by displaying other-woldly love, audacious humility, and radical justice. It culminates in a New Creation, a setting-right of all things, a final judgement, and the running-over of time into eternity.

I'd like to see that Christmas card.

A good kind of fear

I read the first 7 chapters of Ezekiel. It got me thinking about the fear of the Lord and my own fears.

Imagine. 4 living creatures appear, flying with wings outstretched underneath an icy expanse over which a throne and figure like a man (half molten metal, half flames) float, casting rays of light and rainbows of radiant color. The whole assembly approaches and you hear a voice addressing you, telling you to warn a rebellious nation against imminent destruction.

The story goes that Ezekiel sat quietly for 7 days overwhelmed. (I’m pretty sure that’s the appropriate response.) Then He started doing some crazy stuff: lying on his side for over a year, cooking his food with cow pies, laying siege to homemade etchings of Jerusalem.

But I have to wonder how my life would change if I lived with the image of God in His holiness always before me. For one thing, all my earthly fears (rejection, loneliness, poverty, death) would be dramatically trumped by my fear of God. Also, the prosperity gospel would sound pretty silly. The idea that God’s greatest aim is my comfort, security, and happiness would seem quite hollow.

But frankly, I’d rather encounter this living, terrifying God and be led from the experience in “bitterness and anger” against a rebellious people than live in comfort and security oblivious to the terrifying awesomeness of His Presence.

I think each of us is made to live our lives drawn along by a vision of God’s holiness. People, I believe, are most alive and most authentic when their fear of God trumps all other fears. But we’ve been enticed to lust after the idols of security, happiness, and self-sufficiency. At some level we all want to do life all by ourselves. God is given authority in our lives only insomuch as he plays along with our personal ambitions. And the fluffy spirituality that we’re spoonfed every Sunday plays right into our secret hope that someday, God might leave us alone to live happy and contented lives without the ambiguity of the hard stuff He sometimes requires of us. But God’s enduring passion throughout Ezekiel is that “they will know that I am the LORD.” He says it over and over after every prophecy, every judgment.

So when my ambition for comfort works against God’s ambition for glory, who will win? God Himself will ensure that at the end of all things, whether through love or wrath, trial or blessing, salvation or damnation… that “every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.”

So in every word and action, let me acknowledge that He is the LORD. Let me trust my fear to one who is trustworthy and good. Then I’ll be free from all other fears. That’s why God’s promise to give Ezekiel a stubborn spirit and firm resolve to accomplish his prophetic commission is believable: because the promise comes only after the vision…. AFTER Ezekiel sees something truly worth fearing, all his other fears can take a back seat.

God plant the fear of You in the central locus of my identity.