Month: March 2021

The crowds cried out in celebration, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!”

A week later, they would cry out in condemnation, “Crucify him!”

What happened in a week?

I will not pretend for a minute to read the minds of the people in Jerusalem that fateful week. I can imagine the religious leaders were working behind the scenes to paint Jesus in a bad light. There were likely some who thought Jesus was coming to lead a military overthrow of the Roman government.

I think if we were to summarize it in one phrase, Jesus was not the Messiah they wanted.

Jesus did not look like the Messiah many people were longing for. They lived under the control of an empire whose domain spread across most of their known world, and beyond. They had lived in exile, heard stories about slavery and the destruction of what once was. They heard stories of conquests generations earlier and wondered when it would happen again.

What they got in Jesus of Nazareth was not what they imagined. They were clamoring for a show of force that would once and for all bring them freedom. But that kind of freedom isn’t the kind that God desires.

Sometimes it seems like we haven’t come all that far. For those of us who proclaim, “Jesus is Lord,” what does that mean to us today?

Does our Jesus argue for accumulating military weapons or feeding our enemy?

Does our Jesus ask us to condemn those we disagree with or offer them a seat at the table?

Does our Jesus want us to amass wealth while others go without basic necessities?

Does our Jesus dehumanize those whose religious or political views differ from ours?

Does our Jesus encourage us to condemn another person’s wrongdoing or evaluate our own imperfections first?

So often I see people, myself included, who want Jesus to conform to their presuppositions. That could mean turning Jesus into a Republican or a Democrat. Making Jesus a capitalist or a socialist. We Americans like to wrap Jesus in the flag and declare “God and country” as one unified entity.

The reality is Jesus is more than any one economic theory, group, political party, or even nation. We must be cautious of falling into the trap of thinking God is always on our side.

God is on the side of the world, all of it. Every person, every creature, all of creation. God is present in all of it.

I don’t pretend to have all of the answers; I believe life is way too complicated to be solved in black and white declarations most of the time.

I also believe those of us who claim allegiance to Jesus the Christ must consider first and foremost what it means for Jesus to be Lord of our own life. This is not about following rules or laws, but a much deeper reflection on who we are as human beings.

It only took a week for those gathered in Jerusalem to turn on Jesus. If Jesus walked the streets of Washington, D.C. today, would the outcome be much different?

This week in one of my social work classes, a student presented a fictional movie character as a mental health client for an assignment. We were asked to consider what symptoms this person exhibits and offer a diagnosis.

While reviewing classmates’ comments and reflecting on my own observations, I started thinking more about how media portrays mental illness.

While many perpetrators of violent crime suffer from a mental illness, the reciprocal of that statement is almost never true. Most people suffering from a mental illness are not perpetrators of violent crime. Numerous studies and mountains of research have found it much more likely those suffering from mental illness will be victims, not perpetrators. When one of a minuscule percentage of people carries out violent crime, being a victim is often one of the catalysts.

This is not to excuse those who engage in violence or minimize the painful impact a handful of people have had through the use of violence. However, we need to reframe the conversation and move away from stigma.

Were the stigma around mental illness not so prevalent, you might be surprised to learn how many people you know suffer from mental illness. Family. Friends. Neighbors. Co-workers.

When I watch a movie or listen to the news and see one outlier’s behavior applied to an entire population, it surfaces frustration, anger, disappointment, and sadness. I wonder how many people suffer in silence for fear of being labeled because of what a movie, television show, or news report says about those who suffer from their disorder.

Is everyone suffering from schizophrenia going to act violently like that person I saw on the news? Will every person dealing with bipolar disorder act like that character in the movie?

Let’s turn off the television and listen to real people. Let’s stop letting the media distort our understanding of mental illness. Let’s turn down the volume on stigma.

People who struggle with mental illness need our compassion, our help, our support; they don’t need another label or avoidance. Do you want to help heal mental illness and make this world a better place? Create safe places for those with mental illness. Listen to their stories. Open your heart instead of closing your mind.

There is nothing wrong with entertainment, but remember it’s just a story, often filled with hyperbole and exaggeration. The news offers good information, but it often focuses on the one exception to the norm because that brings ratings. The person next door who struggles with mental illness is almost never like the caricature we see in the media. Let’s offer love, acceptance, and understanding and bring light to the darkness.

When I was serving at a church in Michigan, we went through a difficult season as a community. Within a year, there were four tragic deaths, three of those within a few months. During this time I was also working through a potential change in my role at the church and wrestling with some of my own demons.

These deaths weighed heavily on my soul and exposed a deeper brokenness I had been able to hide behind laughter, smiles, and busyness.

I found myself sliding into a season of depression which I worked hard to hide from everyone around me. I kept telling jokes, putting on a happy face, and plugging along. The internal struggle was palpable and the pain exacerbating by my hiding.

I remember sitting across the table from one of the church’s elders for breakfast discussing my potential shift in roles at the church. His lips were moving, but I wasn’t listening, or at least I couldn’t really hear him. This incident was indicative of my experiences throughout that season.

I told no one of the darkness, the heaviness haunting my soul. I had made it a habit of hiding the dark parts of my life from everyone, and this was no exception.

I still remember feeling the weight of that darkness. I recall the ways I shut everyone out and stood in front of groups of students and adults and kept performing through the pain. Even now, I remember how the final death in that string of tragic events dealt a heavy blow to my heart.

While that season of immense darkness finally begin to lift, the skill of hiding would continue for some time. It would be several more years until, following the deaths of my brother-in-law and then my father, I finally began to dismantle the facades I worked so hard to build and remove the masks I had worn so well.

I know the fear of vulnerability, the power of shame, and the weight of darkness. I have felt their exhausting and excruciating grip.

I still feel their presence at times, but I have also found some light. Brené Brown says, “If you trade your authenticity for safety, you may experience the following: anxiety, depression, eating disorders, addiction, rage, blame, resentment, and inexplicable grief.” That right there is some Grade A truth.

If you are feeling the darkness, the weight, the shame, find somewhere to let some light in. Crack the door and let someone in. It could be confiding in a trusted friend. Maybe it’s seeking out a therapist. All I can tell you is, do it sooner rather than later.

Even the smallest glimmer of light in the darkness can help you start to turn the corner and see enough to take the next step.

Take a moment and consider the image above. It is a Star of David, but not just any Star of David. If this were an actual three-dimensional object, would it even be possible? How can these two triangles intersect like this without being distorted?

When you look, do you see one regular triangle and one that isn’t? Or do you think both must be contorted?

How often do we look at Jesus Christ in the same way? Consider these passages from two letters written by the apostle Paul during his Roman imprisonment somewhere around 60 AD…

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:5-11, ESV)

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. (Colossians 1:15-20, ESV)

In the same person we find one who emptied himself and one who holds all things together. How do we reconcile these?

Maybe they aren’t supposed to neatly fit. Maybe we are supposed to wrestle with the fact that Jesus both gave up everything and holds it all together.

Richard Rohr rightly points out that for centuries we have called the divine “Almighty God,” but seldom if every do we call the divine “All Vulnerable God.” Why is that?

Could it be we want a God with power because we long for power? Could it be we fear vulnerability, so we turn Jesus’ vulnerability into a doctrine instead of a divine example?

I have heard it said that Jesus died in our place. What if we look at it differently? What if Jesus died to show us the way, the truth, the life? What if the divine’s vulnerability on the cross was more about the pathway to salvation instead of the solution?

Maybe Jesus’ crucifixion is the very way Christ holds everything together. Vulnerability, not power, might be the true pathway to peace.

Consider our own nation. For more than two centuries we have used violence in an attempt to create peace. How is that working for us?

Violence has been used to subdue nations and races and other groups which are different than us, often in the name of the very same God another empire murdered 2,000 years ago. We claim to be a Christian nation, yet we oppress, murder, and force our will on others. Is that reflective of the one who hung on a cross extending forgiveness?

I don’t have any easy answers; I wrestle on a regular basis with how we use violence, even in the context of the military and law enforcement. I respect those who put their lives on the line to protect me and others here and around the world. I don’t question them, but rather the system which even requires their service.

Like the Star of David above, these kinds of questions seem to create a picture that is not possible. How can the divine have enough power to create the universe and hold it together while also being vulnerable enough to allow a few people on one speck in space to dominate and murder God in the flesh?

Jesus the vulnerable. Christ the almighty. He hangs there on the cross, stretching between powerlessness and preeminence. Instead of seeking power, maybe we should hang there with him.