They'll Know We Are Christians By [You Fill in the Blank]

One of the closing songs we sang a few weeks ago at church was the classic "They'll Know We Are Christians".  The song is certainly biblical in its message and context, remains contemporary  in any age of the church, and has not suffered the same notoriety associated with other oldies such as Kumbaya.  And we know the way the song goes, paraphrasing as it does from John 13:35...the world (they) will know that we are truly followers of Jesus by our love.

Sadly, however true and biblically sound the song may be, I found myself thinking as we sang it that the practical reality of our witness in the world has been badly tarnished and the words seemed empty to me.  It is no longer true that the world knows that we proclaim to be followers of Jesus by the demonstration of our love.  They know we are "Christians" by our judgment, by our enforced isolation in our little enclaves, by our separation from the culture around us, by our dogmatic lecturing on a handful of issues, and by our legislative initiatives.  I always heard that it was very difficult to get a Christian to explain what they were for, but that they were never at a loss to explain what they were against.

How did we ever stray that far from the new commandment given by Jesus Himself as He faced the ultimate giving of Himself in love for the world He had created and now intended to deliver from futility and darkness?  The theme of love is scattered throughout the writings of the Apostle John.  Besides the recording of Jesus's words in his gospel, John writes " We know that we have passed from death to life because we love..." (I John 3:14; "Beloved let us love one another, for love is of God, and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God..." (I John 4:7);  "Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another..." (I John 4:20); and  "Now I plead with you...not as though I wrote a new commandment to you but one which we have had from the beginning, that we love one another..." (II John 5).  You get the picture.

Church tradition speaks of John in his latter years, and consistently indicate that he was a broken record, always exhorting his audience, "My little children, love one another."  When pressed as to why he preached the same sermon over and over, it is recorded in that tradition that he replied, "Because it is the commandment of the Lord, and if we can attain only this one thing, it will be enough."  Perhaps in this Christmas season we need to be reminded that the entire message of the season is one, ongoing demonstration of the love of God towards the world He created, and then perhaps we can lay aside not just the sin that so easily besets us, but the prejudice and the doctrinal arguments and the righteous judgments that most easily beset us, and then let us run the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who exhorted us above all to love.  

Who is Welcome at the Table of the Lord?

I have recently been doing some historical research into the concept of who is welcome to partake of the table of the Lord at communion after the topic came up at our last elder's meeting.  I was surprised that there are actually three defensible positions that exist in the church.  From most liberal to most strict they are as follows (and I simplify their positions for the sake of presentation because there are nuances to each of them).  Open communion allows anyone in the service who is saved to partake of communion.  Some churches say that those who love Jesus are welcome, or even just those that are seeking God may come.  Using this definition even sincere unbelievers can be included in the table.  Close communion is a middle ground, and restricts communion to those that are saved and baptized, and who are of "like faith and practice", meaning you believe the same things and practice your spirituality in roughly the same way.  In theory a Lutheran could probably come to an Episcopal table, but it is unlikely that a Baptist would (sacramental view versus ordinance).  Closed communion restricts the table to those that are saved, baptized and members in good standing of the local congregation or denomination, period.  So which is right?  Or as it was broached at the elder's meeting, which one is the correct "bible" position?  In theory that sounds good, but in practice it's not so easy to decide since parts of the church hold each of the positions and can defend their practice with Chapter and Verse.

I have practiced my Christianity under each of the three and what I am going to offer now is my own opinion based not on bible verses or even historic church practices, but on what seems to fit the Jesus that I know best.  I know that this may be grounds for immediate dismissal, condemnation for making God in my image and likeness and synthesizing my religion into what works for me.  But sometimes, just sometimes, the old formula "What would Jesus do" works better for me than dogma or doctrine.  And I think that what Jesus would do is say "Come to me all you who are heavy laden and I will give you rest."  He would choose to eat with open and profligate sinners and tax collectors.  He would break bread saying "I am the bread of life..." while giving it to any that had their hand out.  I don't think that He would have built a fence around His table but would have invited all to taste and see that the Lord and His graciousness is indeed good.

They say we are to worship God in spirit and in truth.  I have worshiped God in truth to the detriment of all else, making every exercise of my faith a division, an exclusion, a marking out, a drawing of lines and deciding what side I am on.  For now, I choose to worship God in spirit, and given the choice between living in truth or living in love, I will err on the side of love.  I for one, am not going to be part of the communion police, deciding who is saved, who is in good standing, who is truly walking in the light.  It's the Lord's table, I will trust Him to sort it out in the end.

What Matters Most?

Last post for today as I finally get through the list of random thoughts and questions I constantly jot down in a little notebook in my pocket.  Today's question sounds a lot like others I have asked, but with its own particular twist.  "What matters most, that we believe, or that we love?"  You can see where this is going.  It cuts right to the heart of that lasting struggle between truth and mercy.  But why should such a struggle even occur in the Church of Jesus Christ?  Why does it seem like the latest trend within the churches in my geographic region is a return to legalism based on an absolute (meaning our version is right) truth and building walls where there ought to be none?  Suddenly their version of Christianity does not seems so much like good news as in "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me for He has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free."

Truth is a bludgeon, no one can stand before Moses when he starts swinging those tablets.  But Jesus came for freedom's sake and in Him mercy meets truth on an even plane, the righteous demands of a holy God embrace peace in a holy union.  That is good news, much better than the standard fare of hoop jumping or dogma collecting that is common in so many churches.  For the record, it matters most to me that I love even when it conflicts inside of me with what I believe is the truth in any matter.  I guess I'd rather give account before God that I loved too much instead of that I believed zealously.

Lord, You Know that I Love You

Some Sundays ago in Eastertide we read the account in John's gospel about Jesus confronting Peter three times about whether Peter really loved Him or not.  I ask myself that same question a lot, in different ways and times, but all boiling down to the same question, "Do I really love Jesus in a way that leads to a life that is lived in accordance with what I believe He would have me do?" Or is my whole life just a religious facade that I have cobbled together over the years, borrowing a little from this denomination, incorporating a little from that church, and so on?  I honestly don't know.  Let me give you an example to illustrate.

Some of the most profound worship songs that I have ever heard -- you know those songs, the ones that tug your heart, bring tears to your eyes, and through the tears help you to see light like you have never seen it --, well those songs were written by habitual sinners, drunkards in my particular story.  People who knew the power of God in a way that many of us cannot relate to because they spent so much of their life making a mockery of everything they held sacred and yet, even at the lowest points, knowing that God loved them even then.  And while drinking does not tend to be my personal demon, I have others that I wrestle with, we all do; things that are secret, things that remain hidden, tendencies that cannot be indulged because of what follows.  And so when Jesus asks me if I love Him, how do I answer?  I can give Him the biblically correct answer, but when I start to speak all of my failure and wasted life gets replayed in my mind and the answer dies on my lips.  Imagine Peter wilting under this interrogation.  The man who three times betrayed Jesus only days before is now asked whether He loves this Jesus who stands before Him.  I've been there too, I think you have as well.   But the struggle of Peter to answer finally breaks through, and I lay hold of it as well and make it my own.  I don't know if I love You as I ought, my life certainly has not reflected the reality of that type of relationship; but You know that I love You, otherwise You would not be standing in front of me and asking me these questions.  You can look beyond my weakness, my constant and consistent failure, and my wishy-washiness where my own eyes always get stuck to see eternity set in my soul, and in Your eyes I see that You know that I love You.  When the Son sets you free, you are finally free indeed!