For some reason, we insist on complicating Jesus. The grave could not contain him. Yet we have the audacity to be believe our theology can.
Our complicated theological pursuits have led to self-righteous, self-serving endeavors aimed at being “right” and “justified,” subsequently giving rise to movements that end up being the antithesis of the gospel.
J. Basil Dannebohm
As Western Christianity celebrated Easter, I was reminded of the words of author Clarence W. Hall: “Easter says you can put truth in a grave, but it won’t stay there.”
The Truth isn’t complicated. His message was clear. It cannot be buried or bastardized.
As we continue to celebrate the Risen Savior, it’s important to remember how we arrived at the point of needing to be saved in the first place. Whether we embrace the story metaphorically or literally, we read in Genesis that our forebearers in Eden found the serpent more trustworthy than God. Not because of its credentials, but because the serpent said precisely what they wanted to hear.
In a similar manner, the crowd chose Barabbas not because they loved him, but because they hated the Truth.
“The crowd chose Barabbas not because they loved him, but because they hated the Truth.”
St. Paul implored in Romans: “I appeal to you, brothers, to watch out for those who cause divisions and create obstacles contrary to the doctrine that you have been taught; avoid them. For such persons do not serve our Lord Christ, but their own appetites, and by smooth talk and flattery they deceive the hearts of the naive.”
Evangelist Beth Moore observed, “When our story is told a century from now … it will be how much of the American church ran after idols and delusions, false Christs, and conspiracies. History will not only fault the pastors for not confronting us with the truth but the congregations who forbade them to.”
The Truth tells us we cannot pray with love and think with hate yet still call ourselves Christians. Yet as Blaise Pascal wrote, “Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction.”
God doesn’t require our defense by way of deranged crusades often rooted in conspiracy and waged by delusional false Christs. As St. Augustine said: “The truth is like a lion. You don’t have to defend it. Let it loose. It will defend itself.”
When people attempt to gaslight me into believing “Christianity is under attack in the United States,” my reply is simply: “If that’s true, it’s an attack of our own making. If people hate us because of Jesus, that’s expected, but if people hate Jesus because of us, that’s a problem.”
The latter is far more often the case.
“If people hate Jesus because of us, that’s a problem.”
In his book Postcards from Babylon: The Church In American Exile, Brian Zahnd writes: “It’s not the task of the church to ‘Make America Great Again.’ The contemporary task of the church is to make Christianity countercultural again. And once we untether Jesus from the interests of empire, we begin to see just how countercultural and radical Jesus’ ideas actually are. Enemies? Love them. Violence? Renounce it. Money? Share it. Foreigners? Welcome them. Sinners? Forgive them. These are the kind of radical ideas that will always be opposed by the principalities and powers, but which the followers of Jesus are called to embrace, announce and enact. And the degree to which the church is faithful to Jesus and his radical ideas is the degree to which the church embodies a faith that is truly countercultural.”
Indeed, the church should be a community where “messed up” people are welcome, outcasts are loved, underdogs find a champion, the hopeless find hope and the friendless find a friend. We wouldn’t have to mention we’re Christian most of the time if we’d act like Christ all the time. How we walk with the broken speaks far louder than how we sit with the great.
As the old hymn goes, “They’ll know we are Christians by our love.”
Richard Rohr writes: “There is not a Native, Hindu, Buddhist, Jewish, Islamic or Christian way of loving. There is not a Methodist, Lutheran or Orthodox way of running a soup kitchen. There is not a gay or straight way of being faithful, nor a Black or Caucasian way of hoping. We all know positive flow when we see it, and we all know resistance and coldness when we feel it. All the rest are mere labels.”
Author and pastor Rich Villodas reminds us: “The Good Samaritan story is not just an example of compassionate spirituality. It is a critique against religious passivity. If ‘church people’ won’t work for justice and mercy, God will find some other people who will.”
Let’s “untether Jesus from the interests of empire” and be that “positive flow.”
The church doesn’t need more people who think they’re leaders, it needs more Good Samaritans who know they’re servants.
The stoic Seneca wrote, “The best index to a person’s character is how he treats people who can’t do him any good.”
Before his journey to Calvary, one of our Savior’s final acts was to wash feet. May others come to know the Resurrected Christ not by earthly idols, means of force or pharisaical campaigns; but through our radical love, in the breaking of the bread and in the countercultural act of our service, especially to the least of these.
Let’s focus our attention on the Beatitudes rather than the more popular “me”-attitude. Only then can we embrace Jesus’ Resurrection.
J. Basil Dannebohm is a writer, speaker, consultant and former state legislator who divides his time between Kansas and Washington, D.C.