Israel and Hamas

It's a poor analogy, but one I sometimes feel.

I feel as if I were watching a spectator sport and people are arguing about why you should support one side over another--which side is better--which side is more in the right than the other.

And then, there are others who claim a stance of neutrality is more appropriate.  "I don't have a dog in the fight.  Why join in?"

We must also add the voices of those who say, "Why the battle at all?  What is the need for the game?"

In this case, the game is a game of life and death; grief and destruction.

Yesterday, I sat on the porch of a house built in the 1860s.  A pastoral visit had turned into an entire afternoon of hospitality, fellowship, and revelation--revelation in the sense of getting to know you better.

The 89 year old man was a World War II veteran who participated in the Battle of the Bulge.  He has witnessed entire towns blown to rubble.  He couldn't help but feel for those who might have been in those towns.  "You have to think that those are men and women and children over there.  They are supposed to be the enemy, but they are humans.  There is no glory in war; there is only pain.  The politicians get us into war, and its the young people who suffer."

This man has had many years to reflect upon what he saw and heard and participated in.  Such wisdom tends to be missing in many of the conversations I hear about ongoing conflicts around the world.

I wonder what it is to be a pawn in someone else's game.  For that is what mostly tends to happen in such situations.  Civilians become pawns in the games of those who seek power--for is that not what war truly is?  Is that not what ultimately politics really is?  A striving for power?  A striving for control?  And if I have enough power, no one will mess with me--through power, safety and peace are achieved.

I remember an empire which expanded with the same sort of ideals (does the Pax Romana mean anything to anyone?).  It was an empire which eventually crumbled.  As do all of them.

All empires eventually crumble.  Historically, all nations eventually fade.  Maps are redrawn all the time.

And it will not change.  It simply won't. 

Because there is a part of us which desperately desires safety and control.  And the best way to ensure safety and control is to draw boundaries.  Within these borders, I am safe.  And to maintain that safety, I must be strong.  I must be powerful.  I must be willing to defend those borders, and if expansion of those borders offers me more opportunity to be safe, then so be it!  And if I show the slightest amount of weakness, then my safety is diminished.

Power and safety.  Hamas.  Israel.  The pawns: the Palestinian people.  The battle rages.  There is no glory.  Only pain.

And there will be only pain for generation after generation after generation. 

Unless something can diffuse that which dominates the human heart.  Unless something can turn us away from the hunger for power and safety.

Oh, we try to put all sorts of treaties into place.  And we always appeal to self-interest, but self interest leads straight back to power and safety.  All the time.

What can break us out of such a thing? 

Christianity offers a path--a path not based upon power and safety but upon powerlessness and risk.  It centers upon Jesus who, though being full of the power of God--God incarnate--did not choose equality with God as something to be exploited, but He gave up that power to empty Himself on the cross.  He died to reconcile the world unto God AT GREAT RISK!

What does that mean?

Jesus died for us while we were still sinners.  He died for us and offered us forgiveness before we even asked for it.  He reconciled us to God while we were and still are unlovable.  Why?  Why would He do such a stupid thing?

Because it is contrary to power and safety.  It's contrary to the nature of our own hearts.  If God can die for us and love us while we were sinners; if God can give up power and control; if God can risk it all on us to love us when we were unmerciful; if God can show that He has already given His all for us; then that can change our hearts. 

I remember reading The Cross and the Switchblade many years ago.  I can remember a powerful moment when an evangelist spoke these words to a gang banger, "You can cut me into a thousand pieces, and every one of them will scream, 'I love you.'"  At that point, one of a couple of things will happen.  You will cut the person to pieces regardless and continue on your merry way, or you will be forced to consider why it is someone would willingly offer themselves up for you.  How can someone face death and destruction so willingly?  How can someone allow another to inflict pain and suffering without seeking power and safety?

If someone takes the time to contemplate, the Gospel begins to take root.  The Gospel begins to show a different avenue to power and safety.  It's the route to love and risk.  You still may be killed.  You still may be subjugated.  But you have no need of power and safety because you know of something better--something infinitely more powerful and something infinitely more secure.

It's still very easy to jump back to the default.  I mean, I know if someone were going after my family and children, I wouldn't hesitate to use power to bring them to safety.  That default position is very, very strong.  But I hope I wouldn't demonize the one antagonizing my family.  I hope my heart has been at least changed that much by the Gospel.

That Gospel, I believe is the hope for the world.  For Israel.  For Hamas.  For the Palestinians. 

Don't ask me to be a cheerleader for any side in this conflict.  Don't ask me to be neutral.  Don't ask me why folks just can't get along.

They can't until sin is confronted.  And the only remedy for sin is the Gospel.  And the Gospel commands me to be on both sides and against both sides at the same time.  And to pray like hell for peace.

How Do You Know You are a Beloved, Chosen, Child of God?

How does one come to know such a thing?

How does one believe one is connected to a Reality above and beyond our universe and is not simply deluded as Richard Dawkins and others say?

I mean, it is one thing to argue for the existence of God--and as I have said, this depends upon assumptions which cannot be proved.

It is another thing to argue for the existence of that God being personal.

It is another thing to argue that this personal God became flesh in Jesus Christ.

It is another thing to argue that Jesus was indeed the Son of God as He claimed to be.

It is another thing to argue that those who communicated to us the life, death, and resurrection of this Jesus were accurate in their portrayal and can be trusted.

But, how does one know in the depths of one's being that this Reality has taken hold in one's life?  How does one know he or she is chosen and beloved--especially without falling into the trap of self-righteousness and self-aggrandizement?

This question is borne out of a discussion on a Lutheran message board which I frequent.  A poster was upset about the situation in Israel and Palestine as Israel and Hamas continue to battle.  The poster has a definite stance on the issue and who is in the right and who is in the wrong--one that I do not completely share; however, the questions raised by this poster definitely are relevant:

Who is to tell if a people is delusional or whether they were somehow "Chosen". (sic)
Remember the Branch Davidians and Charles Manson's followers? Weren't they too Chosen?  How are we to tell? And Does that mean that anything done by the "Chosen People" is the WILL of GOD? 

While the poster refers to Israel and the designation as the Jews as the "Chosen People," I think the questions highly relevant to those of us who are Christian for many Christians believe they too are chosen.  Many Christians believe they are holy--set apart.  And many Christians seem to act as though their actions coincide completely with the will of God. 

And we also see that those Christians who act in such a manner oftentimes leave us to scratch our heads.  How can you say you believe in God and yet go and talk badly about your neighbor?  How can you say you believe in Jesus and yet condemn people and their actions?  How can you say you go to church when your church doesn't welcome certain types of people and seems cliquish?  How can you say you are a Christian when you willingly support businesses who mistreat their workers all in the name of money?  How can you say you follow Jesus when you criticize other Christians and say they are not "Christian" enough?

Now, if I begin to base my response to the original question based upon actions, then I am guilty of doing the very things I raised above.  If I look at people doing the above things and judge them for not being Christian enough, then I am simply falling into the same trap of self-righteousness as if I have the moral high ground.  Which I don't. 

Which may be a key to beginning to answer the question.

For if we are all honest with ourselves, we know we are abject failures when it comes to living an upright and moral life.  Sure, we can say, "I'm not so bad.  I do some good things."  But, really, when you think about the standards of what it means not only to refrain from evil but also for promoting good, then we all fail.  Perhaps we can refrain from doing all sorts of evil deeds, but that does not necessarily make us good for while we may abstain from adultery, murder, hate, racism, and what have you, that does not necessarily mean we work for our neighbor's good at all times and in all places.  In fact, very few folks truly give without thought to how it will affect their financial situation.  Few folks purchase goods thinking about the impact of the workers who made them.  Few folks stand up to injustice and bullying and other such things preferring to allow the "experts" or those we pay handle them. 

In Christian terms, this means none of us stand before God as holy on our own terms.  None of us can approach the throne and say, "I have done good, You must accept me because my actions speak well of me."  St. Paul put it this way, "All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."

If we truly look at ourselves, we see this.  If we don't, we need only find someone who will really speak the truth to us.  They will show us our shortcomings.  Hopefully, they will be compassionate when they do so.  If we take their criticism to heart and know they are not intentionally not trying to harm us, we do not get an inflated opinion of ourselves.

Yet, there would be quite a problem if we stopped here.  For if we simply look at ourselves and see our brokenness; if we only see our shortcomings; if we know we do not measure up; we can become very depressed.  We can think of ourselves no better than a worm; beggars; dressed in filthy rags.

And this is where the Gospel steps in.  This is where Jesus intercedes by His death and resurrection imparting to us His righteousness as He lived the life we should live and died the death we deserved.  Through His action, not our own, we are justified--this means we are looked at differently.  By ourselves?  Kind of.  But not necessarily.  We are looked at differently by God.  Instead of seeing a condemned sinner, God looks through the actions of Jesus and sees His child.  God sees a redeemed soul.  God sees someone clothed in Jesus' righteousness.  We are accepted by Him.

At the same time we are failures and accepted.  We are chosen and rejected.  We are saint and sinner.

If we find ourselves becoming depressed in our failure, we should remember we are children of God clothed in the righteousness of Christ.

If we find ourselves becoming haughty and thinking we are special because we are chosen, we need to remember we are actually failures.

Only by keeping the two poles in balance does one walk the line.  Only by keeping the two poles in dynamic tension does one find oneself deeply loved without crossing into the line of self-righteousness; self-glorification, and seeing one's self and actions as completely and totally in agreement with God's will. 

The Gospel--Christ's actions on our behalf--brings us to this place.  The world is in desperate need of that Gospel.