I Am a Prodigal

When I was in Houston two weeks ago, I had a wonderful opportunity to attend church at St. John's Downtown. Pastor Steven taught from Luke 15:11-32. Most Christians know this as the story Jesus told (aka parable) called The Prodigal Son.

"I am the Prodigal Son every time I look for unconditional love where it cannot be found." That quote from Pastor Steven is something I have repeatedly returned to since I wrote it down. He asked the congregation if as sons and daughters of the King, we ever "cash in" our royalty for debauchery.

Good thoughts to ponder.

I liked what I saw and heard at St. John's. Their emphasis on loving people where they are has led them into extensive homeless ministry, AIDS activism, baptismal commitments where vows to fight injustice in ourselves and others are expected and depression/bi-polar support groups that would be taboo in some churches are promoted from the pulpit. All of this while encouraging youth to pursue academics, not athletics, as the way to escape from poverty, by providing college campus tours throughout the South.

But as I have contemplated Pastor Steven's words, perfectly timed today I read in The Joy of the Gospel, "At times we (the Church) have to be like the father of the prodigal son, who always keeps his door open so that when the son returns, he can readily pass through it...Frequently, we act as arbiters of grace rather than its facilitators. But the Church is not a tollhouse, it is the house of the Father, where there is a place for everyone, with all their problems."

As I struggled last Sunday with being judgmental and critical of many incongruities that I see in American Christians, I was ever so grateful that my Father was waiting with the door wide open. Why would I as His Prodigal Child ever close it for anyone else?

Where Do We Go From Here? #Ferguson

I'll be upfront and honest. I have no answers, because I don't have all of the facts. Period.

But this I do know:  I have been, in turn, sad, angry, frustrated, and confused throughout the course of events that has taken place since August, when a young, black man was killed on his city streets. Did he deserve it? I serve a King who loves everyone and live in a country where I've been taught that we are all innocent until proven guilty, so my conclusion is No...he did not deserve to die the way he did, without a trial by a jury of his peers.

I readily admit that I don't know much about how the world works. My world is very small. I live in a mostly white, affluent suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. I am not affluent, but most of the neighborhoods around me are. Because of my color, my gender and my geographic location, I do not know the shame of being followed by clerks when I enter a store. I do not know the pain of seeing a woman clutching her purse more tightly because I pass her on the sidewalk. I have not witnessed a family distressingly glancing over their shoulders because they wrongly found themselves in my neighborhood. I did not attend schools that were lucky to have one beat up computer in a classroom, had 30+ kids in each class, had dripping ceilings, textbooks falling apart, and chaos running rampant throughout its halls. So who am I to tell someone that they are wrong in their anger at how they have been treated by their fellow countrymen?

Is destruction and violence a justifiable reaction to the inequality and rampant racism that pervades every crevice of our society? Again, I turn to my King who says that when we're slapped, we should offer the other cheek as well. (see Matthew 5:39) This is not a "lie down and take it" mentality. It is a defiant grace that exudes confidence in a God who will fight my battles and seek vengeance on my enemies.

Then where do we go from here? 

Wow. Honestly, I don't know. I truly wish there was a formula, a 12-step program or a book to shed some light on how we right the wrong of racism.

Oh wait!...There is! And the Author told me that the two greatest things I could do are to love my God with absolutely every fiber of my being and the second is to love my neighbor in the exact same way that I would love myself. And I can study the lives of Jesus, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Ghandi for bigger-than-life sized examples of how to flesh this out. 

What does "loving my neighbor as myself" look like in this situation? Well, when I do something destructive or horrendously stupid, do I want to be written off as a lost cause? Do I want people to say there is no hope in my restoration? Do I want people to point fingers, call names, say/write hate-filled comments, or deduce that I deserve what I get? NO! Nor should I participate in any of those Kingdom-opposing activities.

So what does "loving my neighbor who has just destroyed their neighborhood because they are sick and tired of being treated like second-class neighbors as myself" look like? It looks like reading books about race and reconcilliation. It looks like following voices that cry out for justice (i.e. Pope Francis, Shane Claiborne, Jim Wallis, etc.) It looks like embracing people of various backgrounds as friends. It looks like my daughter and her teammates making pies all day long yesterday for their mostly African American neighbors. It looks like, on these days leading up to Thanksgiving, she and her teammates going into the local prison to pray with those that want to pray.It looks like volunteering in a school where you are the only ginger and the children can learn to love this sweet little lady that looks nothing like them. It looks like attending opportunities that help you Understand Poverty. It looks like Tent Days where a group of people are breaking down racial and economic barriers because weekly they share life with people in their community. It looks like supporting organizations such as  Mission Year and CityMerge who seek reconcillation and love for all people. And it looks like putting a halt on listening to the media voices that chronically tell us one set of people are "good" and another is "bad". 

Basically, "loving my neighbor as myself" means I must question and set aside every culturally-instilled notion I have about what my life and the lives around me should look like and instead embracing a Kingdom-ethic of loving absolutely everyone no matter their color, gender, economic status or the past sins of themselves or their ancestors. 

Isn't that how I want to be loved?

A Tale of Two 14 Year Olds

Dickens once wrote, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness" (A Tale of Two Cities) and although I have yet to have the pleasure of reading that great work of fiction, the opening line of this novel has been resonating within me for the last week or so. Allow me to tell you the tale of two very different life trajectories for two 14 year olds.

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One girl dreams of meeting the singer in her favorite band.

The other, dreams of pursuing a technical career.

One girl is in 9th grade.

The other only completed 6th grade.

One girl is schooled at home.

The other no longer attends school due to lack of money.

One girl has three siblings.

The other has six.

One girl is concerned with appearances and sometimes feels awkward.

The other probably doesn't even know what that means.

One girl helps her parents out with chores and earns a little money.

The other went to work at her parents' request to help take care of her siblings.

One girl never cared to play with baby dolls, she preferred stuffed animals.

The other had her first baby in early August 2014.

One girl hopes to start babysitting to earn extra money.

The other works in a brothel.

One girl lives in "The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave".

The other bravely faces each day knowing she will never again be free of public stigma and scorn.

One girl has a world wide open to her of unlimited possibilities to what she can do with her life.

The other has life.

One girl is my daughter.

The other is not.

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I am tired...bone weary tired...of a world that cannot see the fathomless beauty, dignity and promise that every single living soul deserves...NOT because we are worthy, but because of a Heavenly Father who bestows it upon us. He is enraptured with every single one. Since picking up this prayer card for "The other", I cannot let her face...her light...her promise out of my mind. She is worthy of more. Praise God for places like Northwest Haiti Christian Mission who help women caught in the claws of a brothel life. 

But Lord...please raise us all up to claiming this "season of Darkness" one toe hold at a time for Your "season of Light"!

Amen!