Trump: Dividing the church

I’ve been privileged to attend a church for over 20 years that is nationally-renowned for maintaining unity in the midst of diversity, whether racial, cultural or generational. But, perhaps in my naïveté, I didn’t foresee just how much Donald Trump would affect even it.

During our missions emphasis month in 2016, which coincided with the end of the presidential campaign that year, the missions committee adopted the slogan “Welcome the Stranger” — an Old Testament command — and hundreds of white members left the church in protest, believing that the slogan was a shot at then-candidate Donald Trump’s stance on illegal immigration. What’s worse, I later learned, that some of the folks who left were spouting racial slurs on the way out, which tells me that they never fully embraced God’s Gospel of reconciliation.

And this is perhaps why the Christian faith, at least in this country, has been compromised. Frankly, part of me wants to give into despair.

Some months ago I wrote a letter to a church in my immediate area that, I learned through an email, was sponsoring a talk at a school board meeting from a black pastor in opposition of “critical race theory” being taught in district schools. The problem is that the district is racially and culturally diverse, with numerous black students and parents as part of it and likely aware of that history that I see the church as trying to suppress. In my letter I wrote that the church was in danger of causing further division by focusing upon such items but not the injustice that spawned the legal doctrine. (I never got a response.)

The bigger issue, however, is that a lot of “Christians” don’t want or intend to make room for those who don’t agree with the right-wing worldview, which is — indeed, always has been and, frankly, intended to be — offensive to many believers “of color.” You see, because of our unique history, we read the Scripture differently and even look to those books and passages, most notably in the Prophets, that most white evangelicals skip over. And it’s that refusal to understand things from another perspective that has kept believers divided over the decades.

Despite the loss of members and the money that they contributed over the years, my church has embarked on a building campaign to unify all the areas — children’s ministry, adult ministry, sanctuary — on its campus. (Culturally, we have generally refrained from building edifices on our two-acre campus, preferring to put any increase into ministry.)

I see this nation now more than ever as trying to keep “different” people out. I hope to God that the church doesn’t succumb to that temptation.

Someday …

Over the past few decades those studying eschatology — the study of things to come — have focused on the phrase “in the last days” and trying to determine what will happen and when.

I think those folks have missed something significant. One thing not often understood about Middle Eastern society and culture is that those who live there don’t have the same relationship to time that we Westerners do; thus, “in the last days” isn’t referring to some kind of specific timeline.

Rather, it’s probably better understood as “Someday…” and refers to more of a wish, although one with the caveat “By God” (and I mean that literally), “this will happen.”

And if you understand that, you might understand God’s intent.

Remember at the beginning at the Book of the Acts of the Apostles, when one of the disciples asked Jesus, “Are you now going to establish Israel again?” His response, in effect, “None of your business.” Most of Israel, still wanting to be free from Roman rule (because the church at the time was primarily Jewish, its members also had that hope), had misinterpreted the prophecy of the Messiah to mean that he would destroy Rome.

There’s also the Revelation of Jesus Christ, a vision given to the Apostle John, in exile on the Greek island of Patmos and by this time the only Apostle left (the rest, including Paul, had met violent premature deaths). Its purpose was to encourage other Jewish believers undergoing persecution, and his audience would have understood the symbolism chock full of it.

And indeed, the very intent of “prophecy” is only secondarily about telling the future and primarily about declaring the heart, mind and will of God. That’s why we see false prophets get some things right but not others — in their desire to gain an audience, they missed God.

That’s why it’s important that the Word says, when it comes to Jesus’ bodily return, just to keep an eye peeled. (When He was asked straight-out when that would be He responded, “Only the Father knows” — which meant that He Himself didn’t know.)

For this reason, trying to determine the identity of the Antichrist, the “beast” and the “false prophet” are a fool’s errand distracting from His commands, to, using a football analogy, “play until the whistle blows.” Middle Eastern culture understands that the future will take care of itself — and, as a result, so should we in the West.

‘Get over yourselves’ — the REAL meaning of Romans 13

Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God.  Consequently, whoever rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves. 

Over the past few years numerous Christians have tried to discern the meaning of the passage in Romans 13, depending on the party in power. Can we rebel against the powers that be or do we simply accept their authority without question?

Well, one thing to consider is that, at the dawn of the church, the Jewish people (and by extension, the early Christians) harbored a deep resentment toward Rome, which had begun occupying Israel about two centuries earlier. Indeed, the prophecy of the Messiah held, wrongly as things turned out, that he would kick out the Romans; when Jesus, who confessed that He was the true Messiah but only after being prodded, didn’t do so that created some disillusionment.  Even after His resurrection some folks still harbored that hope.

It’s also in that context that Paul wrote Romans 12:2, the passage about “renewing your mind.” Basically, he’s telling people to trust in the LORD regardless of who’s in power.

And I’m not simply saying this to folks who despised Presidents Clinton and Obama — I took the very same tack with more liberal Christian friends after George W. Bush was reelected in 2004, saying to them, in effect, “God’s still in control.”

This is not to say that we can’t say that our government is doing wrong, even though it might be, and in Western democracies we have the power to change our leadership and Christians can be a part of that process. The ultimate point is that God is still on the throne and leaders are raised up and brought down only according to His permissive will. And that should keep our faith in Him, not in political leaders.

The big lie that led to the Big Lie

It’s no secret that supporters of now-former president Donald Trump are subscribing to the nonsensical notion that he lost the 2020 race for president on the grounds that the Democratic Party committed fraud. Given that no solid proof has ever been offered — his campaign filed some 60 lawsuits, all but one dismissed and that one here in Pennsylvania allowed to stand only on a technicality — it may seem like a mystery.

Well, it isn’t a mystery if you go back several decades. You see, this didn’t start with Trump.

It actually goes back to Newt Gingrich’s arrival in Washington in 1978. Gingrich, a congressman from suburban Atlanta, decided not only to promote his Republican Party as fundamentally good but also the Democratic Party as irredeemably evil. The nascent conservative movement that dominated the GOP followed, as did the “religious right” in its Machiavellianism. That means in practice that, no matter what we do, they’re inherently worse.

I suspect that’s the reason that the political right went after Bill Clinton so hard. After all, there was far less on Clinton than on now-Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, who was credibly accused of sexual harassment during his hearings in 1990. (Clinton escaped his impeachment, of course, in part because much of the nation knew what was up.) It couldn’t ensnare Barack Obama in any kind of scandal, so beginning in 2011, hopefully in time for his reelection campaign, it decided to institute voter-ID laws to keep minority voters out of the voting booth and thus turn him out of office; fortunately, that failed.

And then you had Trump.

Basically, as I have mentioned earlier, you have an ideology where anything connected to “liberals” is inherently evil; by contrast, any opposition to them has to be inherently good. The trouble is that such a mentality cannot be justified using the Scripture — no, not even with abortion, which in fact is nowhere directly mentioned there. (My opposition to abortion has never had any connection to my faith.) Underhanded tactics simply have no place in the Christian toolbox regardless of the reason; remember that God sees all, including people’s hearts.

And that’s the real big lie that led to the other “big lie” about the election being stolen.

That’s why Christian support of Trump has led to a major braking of spiritual commitment, with younger evangelicals leaving churches in droves —  the trust of their elders always has been in the political process, not in an omnipotent, almighty God Who is willing to move mountains to prove His sovereignty.

We just saw hearings during which police officers endangered by Trump supporters on Jan. 6 offered testimony. What should be insulting, but for some reason isn’t, is that many of the rioters claimed Christ as Savior and LORD, that they were doing, shall we say, “His work.” Thing is, He would never authorize anything like that for any reason.

What we have here is people unfaithful to Jesus Christ, willing to sell Him out for the porridge of power and not looking to Him for spiritual sustenance. It is actually a practical form of atheism that focuses much more on receiving than giving His blessings — and thus making Him, as well as them, look bad.

Having allies

Last month my wife, who is white, and I attended a performance of a local blues band, the lead singer of which I had met about two years ago at a jam session. I had originally hoped to get some work out of it.

That hope ended during the break, when he came to talk to us — and, according to her (I didn’t hear much of the conversation), he made some racist remarks, including using the archaic term “colored” for black musicians. She became so angry and shaken that she told me that we would have nothing to do with him from here on out and soon afterwards made a post on social media announcing her displeasure.

Two people who reacted to her rant especially heartened me.

One of them was a singer and bandleader I’d worked with 20 years ago who asked his identity so that “we can shame him.” “Musicians police their own,” he said.

The other was a woman with whom I’ve attended social dances over the past few years, and she told a story I hadn’t previously known. At one dance I had just finished dancing with her when she was approached by an older white man who after their dance said afterwards, “I dance better than that colored, don’t I?” (I have never claimed to be a great dancer, though I do it a lot.) She said that she was initially taken aback and later said to him, “His name is Rick, and he’s my friend!” before really letting him have it.

Those two other folks who also expressed outrage on my behalf and whom we later thanked proved to be “allies” willing to stand up and fight for me — letting people know in no uncertain terms that what my offenders said was out of bounds. What’s more, they didn’t do anything they considered out of the ordinary; in their view, it was simply what decent people do.

I’m also reminded of the Freedom Riders of the early 1960s. The late evangelist Billy Graham, who demanded his crusades even in his native South be integrated back in the 1950s. The late Jim Reeb, the Boston minister and seminary classmate of the former pastor of my former church martyred in Selma, Ala. More recently, the millions of whites who joined Black Lives Matter marches last summer in light of the death of George Floyd at the hands of now-former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin.

Lately I’ve heard a number of evangelicals say, “Why do we have to focus so much on race? Can’t we just love each other?” But the reason why we need to is because racism is still very much a thing, especially with attempted suppression of black voting power and distortions of “critical race theory”— folks must be willing to say, “This will not stand.”

And that would be true love — in the Greek, agape.

Some thoughts on systemic racism, critical race theory and social justice

Back in March my wife and I closed on a four-bedroom, three-bathroom house on a cul-de-sac in a nice suburban neighborhood. It’s close to pretty much everything — shopping; the main expressway to get to work, church and gigs; the whole nine yards. (The schools are pretty good as well, but since we won’t be having children that’s not a factor.)

And yet I’m occasionally reminded that I couldn’t have grown up in this home, which dates back to the late-1950s.

You see, because my parents were African-Americans, banks would have denied them the low-interest loans prevalent back then to build new houses in what we call suburbia. And over time the value of those houses would appreciate in value. Indeed, most major cities eventually not only emptied out of its growing white middle-class but took its financial and social clout with it.

And that has led to, among other things, the racial wealth gap we see today.

And that is an example of the systemic racism that critical race theory, which was formulated in law schools in the 1970s but is now being vilified by the political right as “divisive,” attempts to address. “Systemic racism” is real, folks, and black folks understand that; the situation with housing is just one example of that.

As such, I believe that it would be a Kingdom of God value not simply to repent of racist attitudes but also to dismantle the systems that crept up as a result of such. His justice says, “We got ours, and we will help you get yours.”

That’s why my racially- and economically-diverse church has from time to time has held home-buying workshops, not simply for the permanence and stability that owning a home offers but also for the financial benefit. (Perhaps other churches hold them, but I’m not aware of those.)

Thankfully, most of the specific situations that caused such systemic racism in the first place have been addressed, but the fallout still lingers. How we address that issue we can discuss—but we must, hopefully without rancor.

Because it’s not enough to open the doors without providing the means for people to succeed. In that way we can build what Martin Luther King Jr. called “the beloved community.”

Bitterness over Biden

It still amazes me just how many evangelical Christians are still angry that their preferred candidate, Donald Trump, lost the 2020 general election to Joe Biden. And we’re talking seven months down the road.

Folks are still railing about Biden’s alleged senility and dementia. They’re insisting that Vice-President Kamala Harris is the real power behind the president. They’re still complaining about alleged wholesale election fraud.

None of these have been or will be proven — because they have no basis in fact.

Folks, we need to get over ourselves because these accusations are the result of sheer bitterness that was always there but is now coming to the surface. Trump himself was a bitter person in his own right, which is likely why much of the equally bitter “religious right” supported him. And we know, because of numerous Biblical teachings, the result of unaddressed bitterness (as I have personally experienced and since dealt with).

I wonder how many Christian Trump supporters have sat down with God since then and asked Him, “What are You trying to tell us?” To this day I’m convinced that Trump’s defeat was sanctioned by God, especially after he arrogantly held up that Bible in front of that church last year, perhaps trying to indicate that “God is on my side.”

Well, He doesn’t work like that — He’s God in His own right and thus endorses no one. For that matter, He’s not a tribal deity deigned to confer political power on certain folks, nor is the Christian faith reducible to a set of political positions.

But because the above question isn’t being asked and its ramifications aren’t being addressed, what we’re seeing today is a massive sabotage of Christian witness. We’re seeing the result of placing our trust in fallible political leaders rather than God, which is straight-up idol worship. We’re not seeing hearts and minds transformed, and we’re not seeing unity of the Spirit under the bond of peace.

The beginning of Reinhold Niebuhr’s “Serenity Prayer,” recited at 12-step recovery meetings, goes as follows: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”

I understand that defeat hurts, but God is far more interested in how we handle it — because in this life no one gets everything he or she wants. Moreover, whatever we receive here we must understand to come from God, Who alone understands all the ramifications.

And that’s why it does us no good to remain bitter over Trump’s loss. It’s a sign that we still have some growing up to do.