Month: April 2025

One of the leading news stories in recent weeks has been the deportation of people from the United States of America. It appears as though individuals have been taken without due cause and sent away.

While I disagree with the notion that we are a “Christian nation,” I would agree that Christian ideals have strongly influenced our laws and customs. I struggle with understanding how leaders who often lean so heavily on Christianity (or at least use it as a marketing tool), can justify their treatment of even those who are actual criminals.

On this Easter morning, Christians around the world proclaim, “He is Risen!” But who is risen? Who is this Jesus?

The TL/DR version, as the kids would say, is that he was a beacon of hope, compassion, healing, and love. Let’s consider a few of his greatest hits…

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven, for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew‬ ‭5‬:‭43‬-‭48‬)‬‬

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’ (Matthew‬ ‭25‬:‭37‬-‭40‬)

One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come in your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke‬ ‭23‬:‭39‬-‭43‬)

Loving our enemies… welcoming a stranger… clothing the naked… visiting the imprisoned… grace for a criminal… not seeing much of that from our current “Christian” leaders.

While we’re meditating on these words, consider his inner circle. The Twelve included Matthew and Simon. Matthew was a tax collector. (Imagine an IRS agent who collects four times what you actually owe and keeps some for himself.) Simon was a Zealot. (He was likely some version of what we would call a terrorist.)
Two of Jesus’ closest friends were a tax collector and a terrorist. Our “Christian” leaders don’t seem to be modeling that behavior either.

And since today is Easter, let’s take a look at the Resurrection story. Have you ever noticed who first discovered the empty tomb? It’s none of the Twelve. It’s the women. Women in that day were treated mostly as property, but not by Jesus. They were so respected by Jesus and the early Christian community that their discovery of the empty tomb appears in all four Gospels. I don’t believe this is a mistake. It is no stretch of the imagination to say that Jesus and the early Christians created their own kind of feminist movement.

Let’s jump ahead several weeks in the story to the Ascension. Jesus is about to leave and offers his followers these parting words: “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts‬ ‭1‬:‭8‬)

Jesus did not call us to send people away. He sent us.

A small detour here for legal and political commentary. I do not have a problem with deporting serious criminals who immigrated here illegally. Grace does not mean we don’t have to protect ourselves at times, but that protection is not a blank check to mistreat people and get rid of whoever you don’t like. And even those accused of the most heinous of crimes should still be afforded the due process our laws require.

Back to Jesus’ directive for us. We are called to be sent, not to send. We are to welcome, not exclude. We are to love, not hate.

All of this harkens back to Genesis 12, where God calls Abram. God said to him, “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.” (Genesis‬ ‭12‬:‭2‬)

The United States of America has certainly been blessed in many ways, but these blessings are not ours to hoard; they are meant to share.

We should not cancel foreign aid. Helping other peoples seems like just the thing Jesus would applaud.
We should not indiscriminately send away those who come here for opportunity. Jesus would seem to greet them with open arms.

We should not discriminate against or marginalize those we disagree with or who are different than us. We should love them as we love ourselves.

We should not reduce or eliminate programs designed to help those in need of food, clothing, and shelter. Jesus said helping them is central to the Kingdom of Heaven.

We should not be sending people away. We should be sending ourselves out into their midst to offer the grace, mercy, compassion, kindness, and love that Jesus offers us.

Those very characteristics got him killed by the empire and religious leaders of his day. Just as he rose from the dead after they tried to kill him, the cause of Christ will continue to be resurrected when those wielding power try to kill it.

This Easter Sunday I find hope in knowing that no matter how much evil, hatred, and violence tries to spread its message, love will always find a way.

He is Risen!

26 years. It was 26 years ago today when my mom died less than a mile from home. The phone call from my dad. The friends coming to my house. The flight back to Ohio from Arkansas. The walk to the corner where she was killed. The friends and family who came to the house and funeral home. The specific moments have blurred with time, but the memories remain.

I was 29 years old when my mom died; she was 58. Before that day, death was a somewhat distant reality. All of my grandparents and an uncle had died, but I had never witnessed death this closely.

But yet, 58 seemed so far away.

Today, on this 26th anniversary of that day, 58 is near. In a few weeks I will turn 55, a mere three years from the total length of my mom’s life.

A lot has occurred over these last two plus decades, more deaths, divorce, and other losses which pushed me to the brink of despair. Death, in its many forms, has become more and more present in my life.

My body feels it, too. My eyes require bifocals. My muscles and bones ache. When I push too hard, the recovery periods get longer and longer.

The slow march of death stops for no one.

Death is painful, physically and emotionally.

Death is relentless, taking things we love.

Death is persistence, none can avoid it.

But death is also freeing.

Death has taught me to let go of things that don’t really matter. The cracks it has created allow me to absorb lessons I was closed off to. The losses have lifted burdens and opened doors.

This is not to discount pain, loss, and grief, but to offer a perspective I didn’t have 26 years ago.

In three years, I will be the same age my mom was when she died. That reality creates urgency and focus.

I worry less about what people think about me and more about how my actions impact them.

I worry less about accumulating possessions and prestige and more about experiences and relationships.

I worry less about gaining power and more about using what power I do have to benefit others.

I worry less about what I can get and more about what I can give.

Yes, the slow march of death keeps moving, but I am learning that this march leads me to a more abundant life.