Not only this, but the action caught the attention of certain people in the government. The beauty of this act called public attention to an ugly aspect of the region’s social and political structure and forced the question, Why is there significant disparity between the conditions of and resources available to predominately white suburban schools, on the one hand, and predominately nonwhite, inner-city schools on the other? It poignantly raised the question of whether the officials who made the decision to cut funding in the first place really understood the negative impact their decision would make on these already disadvantaged students. The pressure put on government when the church lives in love, as Christ loved us and gave his life for us, must not be minimized.
JUST DO THE KINGDOM
Now, had that church decided to play the “power over” game of kingdom-of-the-world politics, it’s unlikely the results would have been so positive. Had this church accepted the limited options given them by the kingdom of the world, the congregation would likely have divided between those who believe that the Republican economic approach is best and those who think the Democratic economic approach is best. Some might have sincerely thought that, given the totality of factors affecting the state’s budget, cutting school funding was a necessary evil, while others might have sincerely concluded it was done only because the government immorally privileges the rich and powerful.
It’s even possible the competing sides would have followed the common worldly practice of questioning the character of the opposing side. “If you really cared about these hurting kids,” I can hear someone say, “you’d support the Democratic party.” “If you really cared about helping these hurting kids,” others may have responded, “you’d support the Republican party.” And at that point there would be little hope of the “Matthews” and the “Simons” in this congregation and surrounding community working together to do the distinctly kingdom thing for this inner-city school.
Fortunately, instead of trying to arrive at the “right” kingdom-of the-world approach to the problem this school faced, the church just decided to do the kingdom. Why should it rely on government—or any particular political party within government—to do the right thing? Why should the church confine itself to the limited options given by the political machinery of the culture? Instead of trusting “power over,” why not trust “power under”? When this church did so, they discovered that the beauty of Calvary has a power to effect profound change on an individual, social, and political level.
The kingdom-of-God approach has more power than the ability to Christianize one of the limited package deals given by competing political groups. Providing a beautiful, Calvary-like alternative attracts people, unifies them, and calls attention to issues too easily ignored by the power structures of the world. It thereby impacts the social structures even while it advances the kingdom of God in the world.
AGAIN, WHAT IF WE JUST DID THE KINGDOM?
There are, thankfully, many beautiful example of congregations and organizations living out their radical kingdom lifestyle in America. But what would happen if kingdom people in general made it their sole concern to live like this—“in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us”? What if we integrated this attitude into every area of our life and society?
Imagine, for example, what would happen if white kingdom people chose to reverse the white dominance of American culture and, in a variety of ways, placed themselves in service to nonwhites? What if white Christians entered into solidarity with nonwhites and made the struggles of nonwhites their own? What if they used their position of privilege not for their own gain but to help bring nonwhites up to their status? What if kingdom people didn’t make themselves dependent on government to resolve racial tensions, but rather assumed responsibility to eradicate centuries of cultural racism in this country in their own lives, in the life of their own congregations, and in the lives of those in their community? What would happen if Christian individuals and entire congregations were intentional in proclaiming—with their lives—that a central reason Jesus died was to reverse Babel (Gen. 11) and to tear down walls of hostility between people (Eph. 2:14–16)?
Such Calvary-like activity would put on display a kingdom love and kingdom unity the world is not capable of and would, for this reason, advance the kingdom of God and attract people to Jesus Christ (John 17:20–26). The “power under” beauty of the kingdom would turn a spotlight on the ugly racism of American culture that is so easy for whites and, therefore, the white-dominated power structures to ignore. It would advance the kingdom of God even while it impacts the sociopolitical structures.
Of course, as American citizens, we can use our access to government to make the kingdom of the world as just as possible. How to best do this amid the ambiguity of the limited options presented by this version of the kingdom of the world is a difficult and controversial topic. But as kingdom-of-God citizens, we need not, and must not, wait for these issues to be resolved before we act. Our trust, time, energy, and resources must not be centered on improving government but on living out the revolutionary kingdom of Jesus Christ in every way, shape, and form. It must be centered on praying and bleeding for others; it must be centered on coming under others, especially (following Jesus’ example) those who suffer at the hands of the kingdom of the world.
When we individually and corporately bleed for others, the kingdom of God is advanced, and we end up having an impact on individuals and on the sociopolitical systems we’d never have if we merely played the kingdom-of-the-world game on its own terms. Resisting the temptation for quick, “power over” solutions and choosing the more sacrificial, discrete “power under” approach of Jesus is difficult. But it alone has the power to unify the church, advance the kingdom, transform hearts, and thereby move society closer to the reign of God.
CHAPTER 7
WHEN CHIEF SINNERS BECOME MORAL GUARDIANS
Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, “Let me take the speck out of your eye,” while the log is in your own eye?
MATTHEW 7:1, 3–4
WE HAVE DISCUSSED THE HARM THAT THE MYTH OF A CHRISTIAN NATION does to global missions, local missions, and the church’s commitment to trust “power under” rather than “power over.” Now we need to discuss a fourth damaging consequence.
As we’ve seen, when people who are serious about their Christian faith buy into the myth that America is a Christian nation, they can easily conclude that it is their job to keep America as Christian as possible, if not restore America back to its supposed Christian heritage. As a result, they may intentionally or unintentionally position themselves as moral guardians of society, coming to believe it is their job to preserve and promote moral issues—and fix moral problems. They sometimes believe themselves to be the moral conscience of the nation, keeping society from cutting the tether to its Christian heritage and spinning out of control. In their minds, it makes sense to play the role of moral guardian—after all, they know the Scripture and, thus, know God’s will for society better than others.
While this view has been a basic assumption of a large portion of the American church throughout our history, I will argue that it is fundamentally misguided, even harmful to the advancement of the kingdom of God.
I believe there are at least five fundamental problems with this perspective.
THE EXAMPLE OF JESUS
First, as people called to mimic Jesus in every area of our lives, we should find it significant that Jesus never assumed the position of moral guardian over any individual, let alone over the culture at large. In his ministry, he never once inquired into a person’s moral status. (In a moment we’ll discuss his engagement with Jewish religious authorities.) While he certainly dealt with some disreputable people (e.g., John 4:5–29), never once did he judge them (John 8:15) or try to control their behavior. As the one sinless person in history, he wa
s the only one who could have justifiably assumed a position of moral superiority over others; unlike the rest of us, he didn’t have tree trunks sticking out of his own eyes (Matt. 7:1–5)! But remarkably, he never adopted this position.
Why didn’t the sinless Jesus point out, condemn, and try to control people’s morality? It certainly wasn’t because people in his day were less sinful than they are today. By most reckonings, morality in Jesus’ day was a good bit worse than it is today. While we may get upset over a president having a sexual liaison with a young intern, for example, Roman rulers routinely engaged in outrageous sexual escapades. Yet, while Jesus certainly didn’t condone such behavior, we have no record of him so much as commenting on it. His purpose, apparently, was not to guard, promote, or fix public morality.
It is true that Jesus, as a Jewish prophet, publicly confronted the Jewish religious leadership for their hypocrisy in enslaving people in a shallow, legalistic religious system and using religion for their own monetary and social gain (Matt. 21:12–13; 23:13–36). But it’s important to understand that this sort of activity fell in line with a long prophetic tradition among Jews, and that it was accepted as part of the Jewish, theocratic, covenantal self-understanding. A Jewish prophet was supposed to hold Jewish religious and political leaders accountable, but neither Jesus nor any other Jewish prophet tried to hold non-Jewish leaders accountable. Jesus’ confrontations with the Jewish religious leaders is more comparable to a Catholic cardinal reprimanding parish priests for abusing their flock than it is Christians trying to regulate the morality of their non-Christian culture.
The apostle Paul played a similar role within his congregations (e.g., 1 Cor. 5) and encouraged other pastors to do the same (e.g., 1 Tim. 5:20; 2 Tim. 4:2). In appropriate ecclesial contexts such as these—contexts in which people have entered into a covenantal relationship with a spiritual leader—confronting damaging behavior is sometimes necessary—and expected. Because the people being confronted have willingly placed themselves under the authority of the one doing the confronting, it is likely to be received as an expression of love and, thus, have positive results. Outside of such covenantal relationships, however, such confrontations would not likely be received as loving and not likely be beneficial. Indeed, such confrontations would be inappropriate, falling into the category of judgmentally looking for dust particles in people’s eyes when they haven’t invited you to do so (Matt. 7:1–3). This is why Paul explicitly said he had no business—and no interest in—judging those outside the church in the broader Corinthian community (1 Cor. 5:12). And note that he makes this statement in the very same context in which he reprimands his congregation for condoning outrageous sinful behavior within the body of Christ (1 Cor. 5:12–13).1
There is a place, then, for leaders to confront appropriately those who follow them and even for believers to play a role in confronting other believers (Matt. 18:15–18; Luke 17:3). But everything hangs on the context. First-century Christians met frequently—often daily—in each other’s houses (Acts 2:46; Rom. 16:5; 1 Cor. 16:19; Col. 4:15; Philem. v. 2; 2 John 10; cf. Acts 8:3; 12:12). In a world that was often hostile toward them, they ate together, worshiped together, studied together, shared resources with one another, and lived life together in small house churches. In other words, they lived in intimate, covenantal relationships with one another. All the “one another’s” in the New Testament presuppose this house-church context, and in covenantal contexts such as this—contexts in which everybody knows one another and knows they are loved by the others—confrontation is likely to be received as loving rather than as judgmental and is more likely to be beneficial to the person being confronted for just this reason.2
Outside of such contexts, however, such confrontations are inappropriate. They are, at best, rude—and love is never rude (1 Cor. 13:5). Hence, while Jesus played a religious, covenantal role in confronting the Pharisees and cleansing the temple, he never acted like this in his broader day-to-day ministry. Here, Jesus just met needs, no questions asked, and this is to be our model for ministry to the world at large.
Jesus encountered numerous demonized people but never once inquired what they might have done to come under such bondage. He encountered scores of afflicted people, but consistently resisted the age-old temptation to look for a moral explanation for their affliction (John 9:1–5; cf. Luke 13:1–5). He never performed a “background check” on those he served or those who followed him. When people were hungry, he fed them. When a wedding host ran out of wine, he made more wine. When prostitutes, tax collectors, and others judged to be “the worst” in society followed him around, he made himself available for friendship, no questions asked—and with no concern for his own reputation (Matt. 11:19; Luke 7:34; cf. Mark 2:15–16). The agenda he lived by, and the agenda he gave his disciples to live by, was to demonstrate the kingdom by serving people and then announcing that the kingdom had come (e.g., Luke 10:5–9).
TWO POSSIBLE EXCEPTIONS?
Despite this clear pattern, some try to justify their self-appointed role as society’s moral guardians by citing Jesus’ words to the woman caught in the act of adultery: “Go and sin no more” (John 8:11 KJV). Shouldn’t we be standing up for social morality by telling people they should stop sinning?
We need to remember that it’s one thing for a sinless person like Jesus to say “sin no more” and quite another for people like us—with tree trunks protruding out of our eyes—to say the same thing. But even more crucially, remember that the central point of this passage is that none of the woman’s accusers was in a position to judge her—because they were as much sinners as she. Jesus invited whoever was without sin to cast the first stone—the prescribed punishment for adultery—but no one met this requirement (John 8:6–9). Meanwhile, the only one who could have justifiably cast the stone refused to. Jesus did not condemn this woman but rather told her to henceforth abstain from this sinful—and obviously dangerous—activity. One lesson of the passage is this: if you want to judge someone else, you first have to be sinless. Of course, if you are sinless, like Jesus, you won’t have any inclination to do so.
Another episode from John is sometimes used to justify Christians assuming moral guardianship over others. Jesus pointed out to the Samaritan woman he met at the well that she had had five husbands and was now living with a man who was not her husband (John 4:16–18).
True enough, but it’s again important to look at the context. Jesus didn’t mention this information to confront, judge, or fix this woman. Though he alludes to her past, he offers no commentary on it, and having alluded to it, he drops it as irrelevant to his primary concern. The only reason he let this woman know that he was aware of her unsavory past was to convince her that he was the Messiah, and that if this woman would “drink” the water he had to offer she would never thirst again. He was letting this woman know that he knew everything about her past—and yet the offer of “life” was still on the table, no questions asked! This is why the woman went back to her town joyfully proclaiming that she’d met a man who knew everything about her—including her sin (John 4:29). Had there been any shame or judgment involved, meeting a man who knew everything about her would hardly have been a joyful encounter.
We don’t know what became of this woman. Was she convicted of her sin? Did she move out of the house of the man she was living with? Did she marry him? Did she finally get her moral act together? We don’t know, for the point of the story is not how Jesus fixes people’s moral lives but how he loves people and offers them everlasting life as they are, regardless of their moral lives. Whatever transforming impact God’s love has on people, it has incredible power because it is given before—and apart from—the transformation itself.
This is how we are called to love. We are to be the shadow that Jesus casts—to imitate God by “living in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us” (Eph. 5:2). We are to demonstrate the kingdom by Calvary-quality acts of service and then proclaim that the domain in which God is king
has come. We are to see a need and meet it—no questions asked. We are to love even our enemies with an unconditional, nonjudgmental love, and, thereby, offer everlasting life to all who are thirsty. To do this means we must refrain from doing what Jesus never did: namely, positioning ourselves as wiser, morally superior guardians and “fixers” of others. Moral guardianship is what the Pharisees did—not Jesus.
THOU SHALL NOT JUDGE
Second, when we assume the role of moral guardians of the culture, we invariably position ourselves as judges over others. Not only is there no precedent for this in the life of Jesus, but Scripture explicitly and repeatedly forbids us to judge others.
For example, immediately after telling us (twice) to love our enemies (Luke 6:27, 35), Jesus says, “Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned” (Luke 6:37). Jesus contrasts love and judgment as antithetical activities; we can’t do both at the same time. This is why the original sin of the Bible is depicted as eating from “the tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (Gen. 2:9, 17; 3:5, 22).3 Our fundamental job is to love like God loves, not to pretend that we know what only God knows. For unlike God, we can’t do the former so long as we’re trying to do the latter.
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