Mind Your Own Business — The Christian Response to Gossips and Busybodies

A few weeks ago a story swept across my Facebook feed about a young Mennonite man from Indiana who went missing after a visit with his girlfriend in Arkansas. I quickly determined, after a brief look on Google maps at the points mentioned, that there was very little that I could do to help. There are plenty of situations where my own inputs and interventions are truly needed and this was not one of them.

The need for my personal involvement didn’t change after he was found. Yes, as a normal human being, I was curious about the circumstances surrounding his disappearance and hoped to eventually hear more about what happened. However, there was no reason for me to pry or persist in an effort to find information, I was content to wait until his family was ready to share and truthfully didn’t need to know anymore than I already did.

However, some were not satisfied to simply rejoice with those who rejoice. Some felt entitled to information, they felt that they deserved an explanation and more or less demanded immediate answers. Making matters worse, the online discussion (including a page created to help locate the young man) quickly became and a cesspool of gossip and den of busybodies who seemed to take great pleasure in sharing their scandalous revelations.

Anyhow, because this does effect my newsfeed, and having had malicious nonsense spread about me in the past, and knowing what Scripture says on the topic of gossip, I want to make three points:

1) The young man didn’t ask to be turned into a public figure.

Family and friends decided to take their search public and the network of Mennonites on social media responded in force. But that doesn’t mean that we should not respect the privacy of the young man. The public handling of this was not his choice. If their best interests (both his own and those of the people more intimately involved) are better served by not sharing more than has already been shared, then so be it.

2) You are not entitled to anything more than has already been revealed.

I’ve seen the spreading of rumors explained as need for closure and blame being put on those closest to the young man for their not revealing more information at this time. That, of course, is complete nonsense. Being asked to pray and assist in a search does not give anyone a right to know the juicy details and nor does morbid fascination. There is no need to know anything more than what needs to be known. He has been found, he is with those who love him, and that should be everything a reasonable person needs for closure.

3) Gossip is a sin and busybodies are severely condemned.

Curiosity is excusable. I understand the want to know more about a story than is already known. I can even see good reason to share, in the right time and place, about unflattering things discovered. However, what I cannot excuse is sharing dirt on another person and publicly trashing them for no good reason. True or not does not matter, what does matter is that we show the grace we wish to be shown and handle such matters in the way appropriate for a Christian.

There seems to be some confusion about what is appropriate and inappropriate sharing of information…

Fortunately there are Biblical passages that offer us strong clues. In fact, being a “meddler” (1 Peter 4:15) or “gossip” (Romans 1:29) is mentioned in the same context as theft and murder and slander. We are even told to disassociate ourselves from those who are “busybodies” (2 Thessalonians 3:11, 1 Timothy 5) as a result of their idleness. And, if that condemnation is not enough, there is also this clear instruction:

Brothers and sisters, do not slander one another. Anyone who speaks against a brother or sister or judges them speaks against the law and judges it. When you judge the law, you are not keeping it, but sitting in judgment on it. There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and destroy. But you—who are you to judge your neighbor? (James 4:11-12 NIV)

The word “slander” in the passage above is also translated as “speak evil” or “speak against” and doesn’t simply refer to false tales. It comes from the Greek word “katalaleó” (καταλαλέω) and is defined by International Standard Bible Encyclopedia as follows:

Slander (etymologically a doublet of “scandal,” from OFr. esclandre, Latin scandalum, “stumblingblock”) is an accusation maliciously uttered, with the purpose or effect of damaging the reputation of another. As a rule it is a false charge (compare Matthew 5:11); but it may be a truth circulated insidiously and with a hostile purpose…

It is important to note that this goes beyond the modern definition of slander. It is saying something, true or untrue, in a way that is unnecessarily harmful to another person. In other words, this means *not* revealing things in public about an individual that detract from their reputation. That in contrast with sharing only what is helpful to another individual and of benefit:

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. (Ephesians 4:29 NIV)

There is a time and place for confronting sinful behavior. However, unless the sin is already public knowledge and obvious (as in 1 Corinthians 5) or something that must be reported immediately to civil authorities like sexual abuse, the process of confrontation should always start one-on-one with the offending individual in private:

If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over. But if they will not listen, take one or two others along, so that ‘every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.’ If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church; and if they refuse to listen even to the church, treat them as you would a pagan or a tax collector. (Matthew 18:15‭-‬17 NIV)

In light of this, spreading scandalous information about another person just because you can is never appropriate for a Christian. It goes completely against Biblical instruction to “make it your ambition to lead a quiet life” and to “mind your own business” (1 Thessalonians 4:11) and amounts to a sin as bad as any other.

As for closure…

There are certainly those who should be working with this young man to help and restore him. But there are many more (in the online crowd) who have no role in that and should be mindful of what Jesus told those who brought an adulterous woman out to be condemned: “Let anyone of you who is without sin cast the first stone…”

Christians should have no time for gossip and no place for busybodies in their ranks. There is no duty to tell the world about things than can (and should) remain private and absolutely no need for salacious appetites to be fed. So, if you desperately need closure, use the opportunity to reflect on your own attitudes and actions.

The Beautiful City of Baguio

It was a great relief to finally meet Charlotte. We met outside the terminal in Manila and to accompany on the final part of my journey to Baguio. I had left central Pennsylvania at 4 p.m. (EST) on Christmas day for a four-hour drive to NYC, boarded the Korean Air 747 (after navigating the check-in procedures at JFK) a little after midnight, arrived in Seoul about 5 a.m. (their time) and arrived in the Philippines around noon.

It was dark when we finally arrived in Baguio, a city with an altitude of 5000 feet (nearly as high as Denver, CO) and a history tied to U.S. colonialism. Baguio, with a population of several hundred thousand, was established in 1900 by the Americans as a refuge from the searing Manila heat. It is dubbed the “summer capital of the Philippines” because of the cooler temperatures found there and remains a popular Filipino destination.

The many lights dotting the hills were a beautiful sight as we rolled around the bend. The weather was very pleasant when we waited at the bus stop for Charlotte’s uncle (Roland) to pick us up and take us to one of those houses perched on the side of the mountain. Soon I was carrying my bags up, around and through the twists and turns that led to my home of the next few days. It was strange crawling into bed that night realizing the day was just starting where I came from.

Baguio overview….

One of the best views in the city was from the apartment of Charlotte’s parents and that is where the following pictures were taken. It was truly a spectacular view, there is no camera lens in the world that can possibly capture the color and depth, you’ll have to go there if you really want to appreciate the fullness. But, for a small taste…

In the city…

We went to various locations around the city over the next few days. There are various government buildings, markets with hundreds of vendors selling all manner of things, Burnham park in the heart of the city, McDonalds (and other US franchises) and a huge mall…

Transportation…

Driving presents a unique challenge, given the steep grades, busy roads and lack of parking available. The roads into the residential parts of the city are too narrow at many points for two cars to comfortably pass and, in those cases, the car going down usually yields to the one climbing the hill. Adding to the required skill is that most vehicles there have manual transmissions.

Oh, and everything is diesel powered, including many of the late model Ford Rangers that I loved so much. Toyota, however, seems to be the favorite of the local population and the Tamaraw FX is everywhere. Of course, then there’s the Jeepneys for public transportation, a vehicle that resembles a Willys Jeep that got stretched and turned into a piece of mobile artwork. There was even a Ford Mustang (look closely at the last picture in this series) making its way through traffic in Baguio…

Trip to lowlands…

To celebrate New Year’s day the family loaded up and headed down to a resort in the lowlands. That took us down Kennon road, past the Lion’s head and eventually to the Hundred Islands National Park where we loaded up for the boat tour. That was a wonderful time of picnics, swimming and time together. It was also an introduction to a slightly different version of Filipino life and a place where little motorcycles with sidecars (or “tricycles” as they called them) ruled the roads…

Igorot heritage…

The more fascinating parts of my visit to Baguio was learning about the local culture. The Igorot people, who make up most of the Baguio population, were farming in the mountains there long before the Europeans arrived and still celebrate this unique heritage…

Family…

There was one thing more wonderful than anything else and that being the warm welcome. I was treated as family and felt right at home. In fact, it made me think about how truly deficient we are of this kind of true connection in the U.S. Real wealth is not having an accumulation of stuff, real wealth is being a part of a family and loved…

The “culture shock” for me came upon my return to the U.S. and being alone again in Marriott room provided in Atlanta where we were diverted less than an hour from landing in NYC. Sure, I didn’t need to use a bucket and water scoop to shower or flush the toilet, but I missed being called “Tito” (uncle) by children wanting my attention.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the wide open spaces of Pennsylvania and did miss my Ford Focus too. However, I could see myself going back to Baguio. There are plenty of seats on a 747 if any of you wish to join me!

Sitting at JFK Getting Ready For My Second Act…

I’ve said before that I could travel the world with the right person beside me. My problem had always been knowing how to focus my attention when the choices seem to be endless. I had hoped to find a complimentary part, someone who was better at organization and making plans, to help overcome my own deficiencies.

Unfortunately, if you aren’t married by twenty-one you risk being typecasted. And, after three decades, nobody gives you credit anymore for your unrealized potential and your marriageability is more likely to be determined by that existing list of faults and failures. That was the case with me—I was, as one ambitious young woman put it, “thirty years old living in Milton” and was thus, in her eyes, ineligible for so much as a first date.

Fortunately, while the door closed for those who had long wrote me off (and those whom, after much anguish, I had finally determined would never fully accept me as one of their own) there was someone who saw me as irreplaceably special. It was a person who was on her last hopes before we found each other and someone who held me together when my hopes in the church of my youth were lost.

In my lowest moment I found a precious bhest, someone who could look beyond my grief and loss of faith, who encouraged me to attend a church (any church) and believed in me. It was in the midst of the struggle that I decided to visit this extraordinary person who lives on the complete opposite side of the world. I purchased tickets nine months ago for a flight that is scheduled to depart at 12:50am on December, 26th.

The sermon yesterday, on Christmas Eve, was titled “going back to the beginning” and took us back to the starting point of the canonical Gospel. The text, Matthew 1:1-25, covered the genealogy of Christ, centered on Joseph’s decision to accept Mary as his wife despite her pregnancy, the prospect of raising a son not his own, and the potential harm to his reputation. It seemed a fitting send off for someone set to embark on a similar journey of faith and decision.

It is a strange conclusion to a tumultuous year of change—of ends, some painful, of unexpected new beginnings and a few noteworthy accomplishments. First leaving my church of thirty years, after holding unto a sliver of hope for an amicable resolution, left me feeling like one cut from their tether and reeling through space. Next a new job that utilized natural talents once thought forever buried. In the spring being a bedside witness to the passing of my only remaining grandma. In the fall receiving a first rental check. It has been a chaotic year that has left me with mixed emotions, of sad moments intertwined with happiness, and culminating with this unprecedented trip.

I am getting ready to board that flight. It will be my first solo trip to a foreign country and only the second time in my life (other than a drive into Canada) I’ve been out of the United States. My flight will take me from NYC to Seoul, South Korea. And, Lord willing, if Trump and Kim Jong Un can keep the nuclear war on hold, I will continue from there and arrive in Manila (the capital city of the Philippines) in approximately twenty-one hours and fifteen minutes.

That “right person” is not physically beside me, but they have made planning a trip to the other side of the world possible for me and have left me wondering if this is God’s answer to my prayer a few years ago when I asked to go through whatever it took to make the impossible possible.

I have a new job, a new church and what seems the beginning of a second act quite different from the first. It is amazing what can be accomplished in one year…

When You Die Along With Your Dreams

“He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.”

Those words have haunted me since I read them in high school. Jay Gatsby was a fictional character, a creation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s mind, but his story of seeking something from his past (a something that seemed close enough to grab yet was already forever behind him) has stuck with me.

Gatsby’s fixation, a moment from his youth, a girl named Daisy, continued to flirt with and torment him. The green light at the end of her dock across the water was to him a beacon of hope. He had taken the long way around (as one not born rich) and worked hard to increase his social status, he had achieved more than most men who started where he did—yet he still was not acceptable to her or those of her class and never would be despite his effort.

“…but now he found that he had committed himself to the following of a grail. He knew that Daisy was extraordinary, but he didn’t realize just how extraordinary a ‘nice’ girl could be. She vanished into her rich house, into her rich, full life, leaving Gatsby—nothing. He felt married to her, that was all.”

Daisy, to everyone besides Gatsby, was a frivolous person, oblivious to the carnage in her wake, and a strange obsession for a man who had everything. But to him, in his mind looking backward, she represents something that had escaped him, perhaps the innocence of his youth or just a moment of time that passed him by that could not be recaptured despite the greatness he achieved. It could be as simple as his wanting her acceptance.

Ultimately Gatsby’s dream of a restored youthful romance ended in his actual death. He was murdered, the result of a confusing set of circumstances involving Daisy’s recklessness, and his deluded hopes died with him. It was sad end, but almost the most merciful end, because he was locked in and could not escape a tragic fate.

The Mennonite Gatsby…

I’ve always been a nostalgic and sentimental person. For better or worse, I’ve often been last to leave, the one who held on a little longer, and a person guided more by loyalties than practical concerns. This disposition is probably why Gatsby’s hopeless pursuit of things already behind him had resonated with me. It was sometimes difficult for me to distinguish the past from the future.

This backward orientation is also part of my religious cultural inheritance. Mennonites, like other Anabaptist groups, seem to find most of their identity in defining historical figures and moments. Ideas like non-conformity, while originating as a reference to a radical transformation of heart, have become primarily about maintaining a cultural status quo and preserving a Mennonite appearance. Mennonite attempts to re-brand their denomination usually reach backward for their inspiration.

Unfortunately, the past, no matter how hard you reach for it, will always stay right beyond your grasp.

And, eventually, a person reaching back rather than forward will sacrifice the only opportunity they have for a future.

There was an ideal within the Mennonite church that had held me captive for many years. It is the story of those who do all the right Mennonite things, who find their perfect Mennonite partner, have their beautiful half dozen kids, find their special place in the church, and feel good about themselves in the process. I had failed to achieve at many points along the way and still had hopes that someday the right pieces would fall into place for my happily-ever-after story to begin. It was the day that never came. My Mennonite dream was somewhere in my past, forever behind me, but I was so heavily invested and didn’t know how to let go.

In the past year, mostly in one cataclysmic moment, the dreams of my continued participation in the Mennonite church were extinguished. It was not that I was disallowed, I was not excommunicated nor was it physically impossible for me to attend, but the desire to belong that had propelled me onward for many years had disappeared. After years of struggle, after years of faithful devotion to a hope against hope, there was simply nothing left about the denomination for me to love.

Could Gatsby have continued to live on after his dream died?

The outcome I had feared was now upon me and inescapable. But, unlike Gatsby whose end came with poetic grace, my story continued brutally on—a forced march into the void that had become my life. There was no longer a reason within myself to continue on. Had I not had someone who needed me, who told me that if I go to take them with me, I would certainly have ended my own miserable existence.

I continued to walk although dead inside.

I continued to do my job but without a reason besides that one person who had their hopes tied up in me.

Later, in the spring, I mourned with my grandpa who lost his wife of six decades. He had lost the wife he knew, who spent all those many years faithfully beside him, who shared a part in so many of his memories and could never be replaced. Her death had profound implications for someone who had hoped to someday achieve what they had. It is a dark moment of realization that all of our cherished dreams will eventually die—only my dreams of having what my grandparents did in their years together died before ever being born and thus would never get so much as a decent burial.

In truth, what was me has died with my dreams and is now gone forever. I am the same person and yet there is this strong feeling that I’m a different person in a body that was once occupied by someone else. I don’t care about many of the things that I once did. I’m not as afraid to take risks that were once impossible for me. And, nearly a year after setting foot in my old church, I do not miss any of it. My friends from the past remain my friends, but there is nothing about being Mennonite that appeals to me like it once did. Even discussing Mennonite issues has become more difficult because it has stopped mattering anymore.

I’ve done what was impossible for me this past year. I’ve left the Mennonite denomination and have no intention of going back—there is nothing there for me anymore. There is not a feeling of loss nor even understanding of why I longed to be a part of everything there. I’m living beyond the death of my dreams, I’ve died with my dreams, and I am a different person. My Mennonite dream betrayed me, it left me to die cold and alone, but God’s love never left my side.

My hopes built over many years had expired. However, by God’s grace, I’ve continued on in love and have found deeper faith. We will all die, everything in this world will pass away, and with it even the meaning of our struggles here. But, after all, is stripped away from our existence, gone forever and never to return, only true love remains.

A friend from my new church posted this…

“Everything betrays you: family, friends, acquaintances, riches, sensory pleasures. Even your own body will leave you at some point. All the elements of nature deceive you. So make sure you cleave to God, because He alone is love.” —Saint John of Kronstadt (20th century)

Tesla’s Uphill Battle in the Trucking Industry…

There is no question that Elon Musk has changed the conversation as far as electric vehicles. Musk, unlike his predecessors, focused on building an image of luxury and performance.

Electric powered vehicles, until the Tesla Model S arrived as an option, were boring, slow and impractical. Now, while Musk’s cars still remain impractical for most people (both in terms of range and price) and while it remains to be seen whether or not his company could survive without corporate welfare, Tesla has at least undone some of the negative image of electric vehicles.

Tesla seems to be taking one more step in the direction of practicality with the introduction of commercial vehicle. Semi, this latest opportunity for Musk to attract media attention, reminds me of something I would’ve drawn up in a middle school daydream: It has a sleek exterior, it is loaded up with LCD screens, it promises to perform at a level one would expect from a sports car, it is priced similar to other Class 8 trucks, and yet also makes me question if any experienced truck drivers were consulted in the design process…

Sure, middle school me would be salivating over this technological wonder. However now, as one having had years of experience behind the wheel of a big rig, the center seating position, glare of screens, wheel fenders and charging times make it totally unappealing to me.

The ergonomic and design issues, obvious from a driver’s perspective, are covered in another former trucker’s article (click here if you want to know more about them) but there are more serious matters and practical concerns yet to be addressed. Acceleration numbers and having the fastest truck on the road might increase coolness factor, but it might also leave all of your cargo on the road (or like the unmitigated disaster recalled unfondly from my days unloading trucks at the paint store) and distracts from questions of actual viability in the real world.

To many the promised 300-500 mile range and 30 minute recharging may seem wonderful. But, from a trucking industry standard, it is truly abysmal and completely impractical. The range of an over-the-road diesel truck, with 250 gallons of fuel, is anywhere from 1000 to 2000 miles and it only takes fifteen minutes every other day to refill the tanks—multiple extra stops per day is intolerable given the current hours of service requirements.

And, that’s assuming good conditions, what happens in cold weather when battery capacity is reduced by 40-50% like owners of other Telsa products have experienced?

It is no big secret that fossil fuels carry a greater amount of energy per pound than the alternatives currently available. This energy density is especially important in commercial trucking where every ounce of extra weight takes away from payload. Batteries with the range Telsa has promised will certainly be very heavy and that will be a huge competive disadvantage. It means you might need an additional Tesla truck to do what one diesel truck does—which wipes out any illusion of energy savings and cost effectiveness.

Then there is the question of longevity and servicing the truck. It could very well be that the Tesla Semi will be completely reliable and go a million miles like a diesel truck. But, even assuming that is the case, what sort of maintenance program and roadside assistance will they offer when things do inevitably go wrong? Service infrastructure is a more significant in commercial trucking than it is in general. Diesels are relatively easy to work on and the network is already established—those are questions that must be answered.

My own back-of-the-napkin analysis, based in what has already been said and can be reasonably assumed, is that this new Tesla offering will have the same liabilities of other battery electric vehicles except on a far larger scale. The question of Tesla being the future of trucking (or is simply a niché vehicle for those who can afford the unavoidable range and weight disadvantages, as well as potential maintenance issues) is not answered.

Trucking companies, unlike wealthy luxury car buyers aided by government subsidies, need to be profitable and competive to survive.

What do my trucker friends think?

“And who is like me?”

I’ve heard the good Samaritan story many times before. I even blogged about it a couple times because of the important message it contains about salvation. But this weekend I’ve gained some new perspective on this account and wanted to share it.

First some context…

The good Samaritan story is the answer Jesus gave to a legal expert who had asked him how to obtain eternal life.

In Luke’s account we read that Jesus, rather than attempt to explain, answered the legal expert’s question with some other questions:

“What is written in the Law?”

“How do you understand it?”

To that the legalistic man answered by quoting Scripture:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind”

“Love your neighbor as yourself…”

Jesus tells the man that he had answered correctly and further affirms with a statement: “Do this and you will live.”

However, the expert was not satisfied. Luke tells us that he sought “to justify himself” and inquires further: “And who is my neighbor?“

Here’s the twist…

I’ve never realized the full connotation of that question. The question actually came loaded with more arrogance and elitism than is reflected in our modern reading of the language. The word “neighbor” was understood to mean a close associate and thus the question asked was more to the effect: “And who is like me?“

In other words the expert wanted Jesus to affirm his own understanding of Biblical text that gave him a legal loophole and means to escape the inconvenience of a broader interpretation of the law. The expert wanted to love only those who added up according to his own religious standard.

Jesus, now having exposed the real intent of the expert’s questions, responds with a story about a traveler who suffered misfortune. He had been beaten, robbed and was lying by the side of the road. Two religious elitists approached and then crossed to the other side of the road and passed without making any attempt to help.

Jesus goes on to describe a Samaritan (a tribe who the legal expert would not associate with) who went above and beyond to help the wounded man and then asks the expert: “Which of these three was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

Jesus turned a question “who is like me” into an opportunity to reorient the questioner…

The expert, obviously trying to justify his own selective love, had asked who to love. But Jesus does not directly answer the expert’s question. Instead he takes the conversation from a question of who to love to a question of how to love and described a love without preconditions or prejudice.

To love God means to look past differences of race, social status or religion and love like the Samaritan. It is a message extremely relevant in a time when we are told some lives matter and others not so much.

Following Jesus doesn’t mean sanctimiously calling out those who we deem to be racist, sexist or otherwise bigoted—as a means to wash our own hands of responsibility for those things—and then being on our way feeling smugly justified.

It means laying our own tribal identities at the foot of the cross, loving those different from us as freely as the good Samaritan did, and being a fulfillment of the ideal in Galatians 3:28…

“There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

Cultural Problems: How the Real Slim Shady Became President

I would be tempted to quote entertainment mogul Shawn Carter (aka Jay Z) who once told the world about his ninety-nine problems, but he uses a word that degrades women and it shouldn’t be repeated here.

Carter’s “99 problems” came to my mind, I admit because I’ve been a consumer of his products and also that of his cohorts. Music and movies, from many producers, have been a part of my life and undoubtedly had an influence too. I can still remember listening to Eminem (Marshall Matthers III) rap about using drugs, abusing homosexuals, killing his wife, etc.

It might seem strange that a straight-edge Mennonite kid from rural Pennsylvania would find anything in common with violent and hate-filled lyrics. I could lie and pretend it was all for sake of amusement and didn’t reflect anything of my own character. But, truth be told, even knowing nothing of a rough life in the ghetto, and having no animosity towards police or Sir Elton John, the words resonated with my own deep feelings of anger and frustration at the time.

Eminem actually offered some good insight into his lyrics. He was right when he concluded a musical social commentary with the following words: “I guess there’s a Slim Shady in all of us…” That is probably what made his music so popular. People could identify with him. He gave a voice to millions, especially underprivileged young men who were tired of being told how to think and worrying about the correct political language to use and just wanted to let loose.

The Two-way Street Between Artist and Audience

Hollywood producers and musical executives often hide behind this idea that their art merely reflects what is real. That is their way of washing their hands of responsibility and it seems reasonable enough considering what I’ve just confessed about my own inner struggles. However, that is only half true, the whole truth is that their creative expression also shapes our world or we would not call it creative—what resonates or reflects can also help to shape and influence.

The entertainment industry is well-aware of their social influence. True, we reject their most heavy-handed efforts. I could care less about what Matt Damon thinks about gun violence, Brokeback Mountain didn’t tempt me in the least, and, sorry Dr. Dre, I still have no hate for police. I take full responsibility for my own less than wholesome thoughts and wrong attitudes. Nevertheless, I use the word “problems” and somehow Jay-Z comes to my mind.

Movies, music and other media are intended to influence and most definitely do have influence. Sure, watching The Matrix didn’t cause anyone to go on a murderous rampage, but is it only coincidence that a mere month after this film was released two boys wearing long dark trench coats killed 13 of their classmates in Columbine High School? Could it be they were partially inspired by a scene where two characters wearing long dark trench coats enter a building lobby and gun down everyone?

Again, individuals should be held accountable for their own actions. But the same also goes for those who create content and play a significant role in defining popular culture. Quentin Tarantino’s blood lusts might be portraying Nazis, Antebellum Southerners, or any of the others we have decided it is okay to completely dehumanize, but he can’t decide how others will apply the moral framework he presents and should probably think a bit more about unintended consequences of his violent ideations.

Writers, musicians, actors, artists, directors, executives, commentators, professional athletes, television hosts, and others employed in the entertainment industry are out to recreate this country in their own image. And, many of them, in their race to profit off of the lowest common denominator, have shown themselves lacking in good moral judgment and need to take more credit for the results of their work. Many have made their billions by promoting moral turpitude, have created an audience to consume their filth, and yet then are outraged that a vulgar man is elected President?

The entertainment media was all beside themselves recently with excitement when Eminem went off on an explicit rant parroting common accusations against Trump. In breathless headlines he become a heroic figure, a part of their resistance, and suddenly relevant again. I guess it doesn’t matter that he helped to condition a whole generation to think it is funny to degrade women and minorities? He made dirty locker room talk seem tame by comparison.

Hollywood Hypocrisy Has Been Exposed

“There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs.” (Luke 12:2‭-‬3 NIV)

Those within the media echo chamber might not see the hypocrisy yet many Americans do and are tired of sanctimonious multi-millionaire celebrity elites telling them what to think, how to vote, or who should lead them. The rebellion is on, the plebs have started to tune out your lectures years ago when the double standard became too big to ignore, and it is time for some serious introspection.

When Larry Flynt, a purveyor of sleaze, gets on his high horse, and again offers millions to find dirt on the Donald, does he ever consider repenting of his own immorality first?

Then we have Harvey Weinstein, a prominent figure in Hollywood, a wealthy Hillary Clinton supporter, and known sexual predator. I say known because his behavior was apparently common knowledge amongst media elites and ignored. For whatever reason, perhaps because of shared political ideology or cash payoffs and career opportunity or fear of their own sins coming to light, for years and years nobody spoke out publically against him:

“Weinstein’s behavior was reportedly an open secret in the circles in which he ran, which includes entertainment and politics. So much so, in fact, that shows like NBC’s “30 Rock” openly referenced his predatory habits. Twice. The comedian Seth McFarlane also referred to Weinstein’s abusive nature during the 2012 Oscar nominees announcements. Despite all of this, Clinton maintains she knew nothing about the producer’s appetites.”

I guess what we deem to be “deplorable” depends on who does the crime. If Joe Paterno and everyone at Penn State should be held responsible for Jerry Sandusky’s abuse of young boys, does that mean everyone in Hollywood and the media (who buried Weinstein’s transgressions) be held to the same standard? Is it time to investigate the Clinton campaign to find out what they knew and when?

Those questions will be answered in time. I personally do not know the circumstances or various actors involved well enough to render any judgment. But there are many who should probably think carefully about what they say in condemnation of others.

Weinstein, perhaps in a bid to deflect attention from his own sins (or in a failed effort to garner the support of other progressive elites) said he would target his anger at the NRA. The absurdity of this, a man in an industry that hides behind the first amendment (apparently only angry for getting caught) targeting an organization that defends the second amendment…

Maybe it is because men of his ilk have been using that script for years?

They objectify women, they glorify violence, they stir up racial animosity and then pick a scapegoat to act outraged about. Instead of admitting their own role in the problem they would rather blame an organization that existed long before the upward trend in mass shootings of the past few decades. They want to blame guns—nevermind the inconvenient truth that actual machine guns were completely legal until 1986 and long before this precipitous increase in violence. It is time they stop deflecting and blame shifting and take ownership of their part of the problem.

Trump Is the Symptom, Not the Disease

Sorry, Hollywood hypocrites, many of those who consumed your entertainment (and found their own inner Slim Shady) also voted for the candidate who spurned cultural conventions in his rise the top and waved his middle finger in the air like he just didn’t care. In other words, he is just a slightly different version of you.

Trump is merely the first politician to take full advantage of the shift in American values. He did not create the culture, he didn’t even create the character he is playing—we can thank Mike Judge, the movie Idiocracy and President Comacho for the inspiration. So, if you really want to defeat Trump, start by addressing those privileged elites who lowered our cultural standards, encouraged the abandonment of traditional values, and created an audience primed for a vulgarian to lead them.

It is time we stop privileging a few with ready-made excuses. It is time to stop lambasting only those who help our political ends and ignoring the problems of our own side. We all share some of the blame for the society we together have created, we all need to take a long hard look at where we are headed and how our own actions contribute to the problem.

Are You Better Than Joel Osteen?

Religious fundamentalists and their irreligious secular counterparts have found something in common—that being their shared hatred of Joel Osteen.
Osteen, a best-selling author, pastor of the gigantic Lakewood Church in Houston, has long been bashed for his positive spin on Biblical teachings and preaching what is often called prosperity gospel. Many on the religious right have long regarded him as a false teacher for the lack of fire and brimstone in his message. Meanwhile many on the left have long accused him of being hypocritical for stating that homosexuality is a sin (or his “gay problem” as Salon describes it) and for his embrace of wealth.

The latest media-fueled outrage started when JustOn Baze, a gay activist, found time—in the middle of a hurricane—to visit Osteen’s church. Baze and his friend posted a live video on Facebook that showed some parts of the exterior of the Lakewood building unflooded. His vitriolic commentary launched a shaming campaign on social media, which was reported on dutifully by the clickbaiting corporate media, and soon became a unique opportunity for activists on both sides to join forces.

Overnight, because the church was not immediately open, many on the right and left lined up to unleash their judgments of this celebrity pastor. No amount of explanation was sufficient, the conclusions had been drawn that Osteen deserves condemnation and now the effort to disparage him is in full gear…

I will not join those critical of Osteen.

I do not judge him. I do not know enough about the circumstances following Harvey to render judgment of his response. I know he has opened the doors after the storm in cooperation with the city efforts and his congregation will likely be involved in the recovery after the deluge.

I also know that most Americans should be careful not to condemn anyone for their wealth. Considering the median income in the US is over $51,000, and it takes only $32,000 to be in the top 1% of income earners in the world, we are all wealthy. Even our poor are provided for through social programs and I’m quite sure those who lost all in Houston will find a way to recover with or without a vow of poverty from Osteen.

When over 90% of Americans households have a car—a privilege less than 9% of the world can share in—we have plenty of reason to be generous and humble. We, as wealthy Americans, even those who lost all in Houston, have a billion reasons not to be judgmental of those wealthier than us. I can’t be critical of Osteen or his congregation when I consider how wealthy I am relative to most in the world.

It is really none of my business what Osteen and his congregation do with their collective resources. Their building, his salary and home, is something they worked for and therefore their perogative.

What good will come from attacking them?

We should consider this admonition:

“Brothers and sisters, do not slander one another. Anyone who speaks against a brother or sister or judges them speaks against the law and judges it. When you judge the law, you are not keeping it, but sitting in judgment on it. There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and destroy. But you—who are you to judge your neighbor” (James 4:11‭-‬12)

We should consider the words of Jesus:

“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” (Matthew 7:1‭-‬2)

It is easy to see ourselves as the good guys and feel justifed in our condemnation. But Jesus gives clear warning: We will be judged as we judge. That is good reason not to bash anyone. That is good reason to be gracious to all people—including Osteen.

Where should our focus be?

Our focus should be on living righteously ourselves. Our focus should be on showing true love and compassion to all people and especially where it is needed the most.

This week, looking through friend requests, I saw a picture on one of their pages that broke my heart:

Who will come to her aid?
Who will help the many like her born into poverty?

Filipino street children live like that every day and not just after a natural disaster. My readership is large enough that we could do something big for many children who were not given the same opportunities we have. We could fund an orphanage, programs to help set these children in the direction of success, and still have plenty left over for ourselves.

We don’t need to be better than anyone besides ourselves. Instead of bashing celebrities, our focus should be on being better than our former selves, repenting of our own sins and showing the way through example. That is true Christian leadership, that is the “good news” of Jesus Christ, and our responsibility to the world.

Who shares my vision for street children in the Philippines?

Who would help me in such an endeavor?

There Were No Heroes In Charlottesville—Only Two Resurrected Monsters

There is no denying that Hitler and Stalin are alive today… they are waiting for us to forget, because this is what makes possible the resurrection of these two monsters. (Simon Weisenthal)

It is interesting that Weisenthal, a Jewish Holocaust survivor, mentions two men in this quote. One of them the man responsible for his own internment and the other a man who helped to liberate him. Seems odd, right?

The Soviet Union, led by Joseph Stalin, played a decisive role in the defeat of Adolf Hitler and Nazi Germany. And yet, despite that fact, Weisenthal creates an equivalency between the two men in his quote. How is this possible? How can the man who played a pivotal role in defeating fascism also be regarded as a monster?

Simply put: Hitler’s evil is remembered, but the great evil represented by Stalin has been largely forgotten.

There are constant reminders about Nazi crimes against humanity in movie portrayals and museums. Marxists, however, have escaped the same accountability for their atrocities—their mass murders remain mostly concealed behind the steel curtain, and modern adherents are good at hiding themselves in the latest social cause.

Some things to remember…

1) An Enemy of Your Enemy Is Not Your Friend

Fascists and their racist contemporaries are easy to hate. It is not popular to be a white supremacist in modern America. Democrats have cut their ties with the Ku Klux Klan years ago, Republicans remain the party of Lincoln, and it is safe to say that most people in this country (conservative or liberal) strongly oppose Nazism.

I am, like most people in America today, opposed to racism and fascism in all their forms and therefore am opposed to rallying around those ideas. And, while I support the right to free association and public protest, it is completely incomprehensible to me why anyone would want to unite under a banner of racial prejudice and hate.

That said, my opposition to the KKK and neo-Nazis does not equate to support for Antifa or other leftist groups that deface property and engage in violent protest as a means to advance their own hateful ideological agendas. The events in Charlottesville, while defined by a young white supremacist plowing into a crowd, was a clash of two historical monsters and we need not pick one over the other.

Unfortunately, many people have an overly simplistic view of current events and history. In their initial emotionally reactive (and virtue signaling) response they are willing to condemn Nazis—the cliché Hollywood villains—but not the violence of groups that hold to an ideological perspective equally divisive and dangerous. It is probably because most people do not know what Antifa is.

Many seem to assume that since Antifa is fighting white supremacists that they are good. Yet that fails to comprehend the reality that these left-wing extremists are a different side of the same coin. They do not just fight against actual fascists, but elsewhere they have been initiating violence and, underneath their cowardly masks, are simply the latest iteration of Marxist thugs.

Marxism has been rebranded in many different ways—it is sold as “social justice” and “sticking up for the underdog” and anti-fascism. Yet, despite the new sheep’s wool, it remains the same old wolf that gave a man like Stalin power to kill with impunity. No matter where Marxism has been tried the end result is always the same—the murder of millions and the totalitarian rule of a few elites.

Yes, it is true many millions died as a result of fascism. However, it is also true that many more millions died because of Marxist ideologies. In fact, according to Reason.com, Marxism is the leading ideological cause of death in the past century:

The 94 million that perished in China, the Soviet Union, North Korea, Afghanistan, and Eastern Europe easily (and tragically) trump the 28 million that died under fascist regimes during the same period.

During the century measured, more people died as a result of communism than from homicide (58 million) and genocide (30 million) put together. The combined death tolls of WWI (37 million) and WWII (66 million) exceed communism’s total by only 9 million.

Perhaps we do not oppose Marxism as strongly because those who died were foreigners?

Perhaps it is because their stories were interned and buried with them…

Whatever the case, it seems we have forgotten that those who use “fascism” as an excuse to do violence will, given power, apply the term to anyone who disagrees with them and kill them too. Stalin may have helped defeat the Nazis, but he was not a good man himself nor are the modern promoters of Marxist ideologies who justify their own violence as anti-fascism.

Don’t be fooled by the different packaging…

2) The Next Hitler Won’t Be Another Hitler

That is the great irony here. The next Hitler probably won’t wear a Swastika, “Seig Heil” or goose step, he will likely not be a white nationalist or foment hate against Jews. The next Hitler could very well be a globalist, a smooth talker, pushing “tolerance” in the daylight and then letting others do violence against his/her political opponents in the dark of night.

Nazis and the KKK are less dangerous because they announce their extremism and are widely opposed. Many Americans don’t even think they should be allowed to march and thousands show up to denounce, belittle and taunt them when they do. But, truth be told, there is little a chance a relatively few angry white guys fighting for lost causes will gain much traction. We already know who they are and have rejected them.

What we should be wary of is the backlash. It is the overreaction that justifies our own evil that we should guard against. Overreaction to one evil oftentimes leads to another and greater, more insidious, evil. What the history books seem to have forgotten is that Nazi Germany did not arise from nowhere. It is, in part, a consequence of onerous and unfair war reparations that led to economic collapse and desperation.

More significantly, before Hilter’s rise to power, Marxist agitators tried (and failed) to overthrow the German government in 1918-19. It is actually that event which helped to fuel the rise of the National Socialist German Worker’s (or Nazi) Party and later gave their charismatic leader an excuse to round up those whom he deemed to be a security threat and eliminate them.

What’s more troublesome to me (than the violent extremists themselves) is political opportunists who take advantage of tragic circumstances and use the raw emotion of the moment to advance an authoritarian agenda and curtail freedoms. We need voices of calm and reason, those who do not excuse violence against anyone (including violence against their own ideological enemies) or we risk going the way of Nazi Germany ourselves.

I can still recall how my guarded optimism about President Obama ended abruptly when he refused to correct those who used the epithet “racist” to silence those who opposed his policy agenda. He decided to look the other way rather than be the leader of all Americans and speak up for those misrepresented. It encouraged polarization, it ended the reasonable conversation and is probably how we ended up with Trump several years later.

Antifa isn’t only attacking people we would regard to be fascists either. A week later, in Boston, they were attacking police officers protecting free speech—that a day after six officers were shot and a young woman killed seemingly at random. Those who don’t see the problem with a bunch of anonymous hoodlums running around playing judge, retaliating against anyone they construe to be fascist, are at best naive and enablers at worse. We need to stand opposed to the Marxist extreme as much as we oppose fascism or we are inviting an escalation.

Violence leads to violent backlash. Not addressing the violence of Marxist agitators—especially glorifying their violence and treating them as heroes—could have terrible unintended consequences. It could lead to something worse than the evil we see. Lest we forget, both Nazis and Klansmen were also once enabled by a sympathetic public that saw their cause as righteous and justified.

Let’s see, hooded vigilantes, breaking windows, dehumanizing and terrorizing anyone who opposed them, sanctioned by the Democrats, approved by Christians—where have we seen this before…

…

Nah, nevermind, what could possibly go wrong?

3) Hate Is Not Overcome By More Hate

We should oppose racism, condemn all racial supremacy movements and warn against all ideological extremism. But what we should never do is use the hatred of other people as an excuse for our own. The answer to hate is not to hate the hateful. We can and should oppose bigotry—and also oppose violence against those labeled (correctly or incorrectly) as bigots.

Hate is not solved through shouting slogans or protest. What happened in Charlottesville has accomplished nothing besides the death of one woman and will only serve to further divide our nation if we let it.

Racial purity or ideological purity movements, especially those who pursue the elimination of competing perspectives through brute force rather than logic or reason, should be rejected rather than joined or justified. It is hypocritical to denounce the hatred and violence of Nazis and then totally ignore that of Marxists. Instead, we should choose “other” which means to reject the ideologies and loving those on both sides.

There is a Yiddish proverb, “If someone throws stones at you, throw bread back,” which basically means to overcome evil with good, and that applies as much today as it ever did.

The problem is our assumptions about those who throw stones. When we assume they are irredeemable we can easily justify our own evil in response and throw stones back. But, when we see our adversaries as human, as a person influenced by circumstances, worthy of a little love and respect, then there is the chance of redemption.

That is not to say we should stand idly by or oppose the punishment of evildoers—police are responsible to reign in the violence and we should not stand in the way. However, that does mean our part is to do good:

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited. Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:14‭-‬21)

If you think a racist white nationalist is beyond hope, then think again. There are several accounts of courageous men, like Daryl Davis, taking the gracious approach against their enemies (as described in the passage from Romans above) and convincing them to repent of their hate. At very least, even if the effort fails, we have not been overcome by evil. Hate never wins when we refuse to hate those who hate us.

Don’t choose one evil over the other. When asked to pick a side, don’t choose “the lesser of two evils” (as those who are sympathetic to one side or the other will urge you to do) and instead reject both extremes—choose “none of the above” and choose love for all people.

Marxism was and remains an evil alternative to fascism. When two ideological monsters resurrect themselves in modern form we do not need to pick one or the other. When far-right clashes with the far left we should always choose against both extremes. We should fight against extremist ideologies, not people. We should resist with love rather than try to fight hate with hate.

Ignore the many different justifications from the partisans. Hate and violence, all hate and violence, springs from the same evil well.

Paradox of Faith and Believing Before You Believe

A few years ago, having finally fully embraced the promises of Jesus, I set out on a journey of faith and pursued the impossible love only possible with faith. I wanted to transcend that “it” that always kept me just short of success and finally put to rest the fear of being the servant who buried his talent.

My mom had always told me that God had saved me for a special purpose. My name, she told me, meant strong-willed and the name was appropriate given that my first week of life was a desperate fight to survive. But my fierce determination and persistence could not have kept me alive. It is only because of the dedicated care of physicians (including my uncle Elam) and nurses, along with the prayers of relatives and friends, that I am writing now.

Still, that was a battle that didn’t end without some scars both physical and otherwise. I was the late-bloomer, notably smaller than my same-age peers, often riddled with anxieties, and seemed perpetually stuck trying to catch up—but never able. There have been many times in my life when it felt like one of those nightmares where you know what to do but your reaction is slowed and you can’t avoid the disaster.

Failure and Moving Forward

Over the years I began to doubt my mom’s words.

What great purpose could I have, a thirty-year-old living in Milton?

But, spurred by faith, I decided it was now or never; I put aside feelings of inadequacy and began to write. I wrote a book, “Paradox of Faith,” and then started to blog here. I decided to say “yes” when asked to speak at church and my confidence grew as a result.

However, I still wanted to trust God more; I decided to go all in on faith and reach out for something impossible for me. I thought I should be a missionary overseas (an activity very encouraged in my church) and yet knew that it was something that I would need some help to do. So I prayed earnestly for a way to overcome my limitations and then reached out to those whom I trusted were my brothers and sisters in faith.

What I got in response was a cold shoulder and harsh dose of the faithless reality behind their well-polished religious facade. Not only couldn’t they help me, but they smiled to my face then slandered me behind my back, and drove my faith into the rocks with their complete indifference. I have to wonder how many of them realize that I’ve stopped attending their church six or seven months ago? I’m obviously not needed there, nor do I feel especially wanted or truly cared for by most who attend there.

I hit the rocks again.

If it was not for one person, someone on the opposite side of the world, who told me, “if you go, take me with you,” I would likely have ended my life by my own hand. But, I had helped them through their own time of despair and desperation, I believed they would be thrown back into chaos and confusion if I failed them—I could kill my own hope, but I could not rob them of theirs. My faith had been ruthlessly murdered by those who were supposed to help it, but my precious bhest was determined to pull me back from the grave.

It has been a real struggle, despite all the good things going on in my life, to see past this failure of faith in my church. I’ve always been a Mennonite, I wore it on my sleeve, it has been my identity both religious and cultural, where I sought acceptance and validation—but there’s no way to remain there after all that has transpired over the past couple years.

But how do you go forward when you lost your faith?

I cared and yet I didn’t.

I was angry and simultaneously indifferent.

I continued living on the outside but my hope inside was dead.

I wanted to forgive those who had hurt me—but, without faith, how was it possible? Why would I?

One of the reasons I continued writing was because of the unconditional love of a good stranger, now my editor and friend. They came to me like the angel that ministered to Elijah, telling me that my writing had spoken to them and offering to help. This wonderful person offered to be my faith when I had none and didn’t abandon or harshly judge me.

I began attending a church of another older Christian tradition. That choice was the result of a fatherly figure who came into my life about a year prior and had gained my trust with his humility. I was amazed by his prompt and detailed answers to my inquiries. For the first time in years I left church feeling renewed.

But then something happened. I spooked. I looked back and became mired in those questions nobody could answer.

I did not attend any services for a couple months. However, a few weeks ago, because of my special someone, my bhest, telling me she needed me to be strong in faith for her, and a timely meeting with my wise fatherly friend, I decided to follow the paradoxical advice given to John Wesley who also doubted:

“Preach faith until you have it; and then, because you have it, you will preach faith.”

As someone who sought to be authentic, that advice (basically “fake it until you make it”) bothered me when I first read it years ago. It seemed dishonest to me. It also seemed silly and irrational. If we must fake something being real for it to become real in our mind, then what’s the point? Isn’t that the very definition of delusion? Why not only believe what is real instead?

But now the choice wasn’t about me anymore, it was about the one that I loved, my bhest, and to love them properly required me finding my faith again. I could not find it in those who took it, nor produce it of myself. I was already reaching down as deeply within myself as I could to find faith and coming up empty. And yet, right at the right time, right before a meeting with my fatherly adviser, my mind was ready to receive some council.

We met to discuss my “God problem” and first agreed that there is no rational means to prove the existence of God. With the mystery of God established, he broke my dilemma down to two options: 1) accept a life void of deeper meaning and purpose—nihilism, or 2) live with the assumption of something greater to come, embrace the mystery of God, and have faith.

He encouraged me to attend services again and that’s what I did. My questions are not all answered, but with his help I’ve established the right trajectory again, and—oddly enough—my feelings of faith have begun to return as I act in faith for those whom God loves.

What is the paradox of faith?

Jesus, according to the Gospel of Mark, came upon a crowd in an uproar and asked what was going on. A man, the father of a sick child, explained that the disciples could not heal his son. To this, Jesus tells the crowd, “You unbelieving generation, how long shall I stay with you?” and then requested the boy be brought to him. The father explained the boy’s condition then gave his plea:

“…if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.

“‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.”

Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:22b‭-‬24)

This father seems to have both belief and unbelief in him. His initial plea is so weak that Jesus repeats it back as if to test the man a bit. At this the exasperated father beautifully expresses a contradiction that only a person who has truly ventured out in faith can know: “I do believe, so help me to believe!”

It is this father’s contradiction that has become real to me as I ventured out in faith, the deeper we go the less we can rely on ourselves and must reach for something bigger. Here are three paradoxes of faith I have encountered:

A) True faith is acting in faith before you have faith. Faith is setting out in a direction, even when the outcome is uncertain, often while facing controversy and even despite some self-contradiction. Faith is not the absence of doubt. Faith is taking the first bold step in spite of your fears, anxieties and doubts. Faith means deviating from what is our natural inclination, letting go of our own human understanding and reaching for what is only possible with God. Faith, from a practical standpoint, is courage in the face of the impossibility.

Faith requires different things of different people. It could mean swallowing pride and dipping in your own version of the river Jordan like was required of Naaman. It could mean selling all you have, giving up your awesome plans and leaving your family behind. It could mean marriage or remaining single. There is no one-size-fits-all prescription in faith. But faith is never passive, nor does it mean being placid; it takes persistence, and requires that we step out of the boat, like Peter:

But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

“Come,” he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14:27‭-‬31)

That is an astonishing story. Peter is both believing and disbelieving at the same time. He challenges Jesus to prove that he is who he claims to be: “Lord, if it be you…” Peter, bold as ever, asked for a miracle that applied to him. There is no passivity or hesitation there, either. Peter is willing to get out of the boat and attempt the impossible. He is actually putting to practice the “take courage” part. He, like the father with the sick child, is asking Jesus: “I believe, so help me believe!”

There are many religious people who avoid the humiliation of coming up empty-handed by re-branding their true faithlessness as “godly contentment” or being “realistic” or not testing God. But the truth is that it takes no faith at all to sit on your hands, take life as it comes and do nothing. Faith aims for the impossible at risk of failure.

You don’t have faith unless you practice faith and to practice faith means to love as Christ loved. Faith is like a muscle that must be exercised to become strong and atrophies when unused. The exercise of faith is to love your neighbors and especially brothers and sisters in faith.

Faith comes from praxis of faith.

B) Faith is acting in love before you feel love. Anyone can love as the world loves. Anyone can “fall in love” with someone who is attractive, adventurous and otherwise convenient to their own personal ambitions. It is easy to love those who have already proven their value or have what you want, but loving only those who are like you and only because you anticipate getting something in return is not Christian love.

The church of my childhood is good at loving their own and especially good at loving those who represent their ideals. (I know, because I am like them; I have shared their ambitions, I wanted a Mennonite wife and friends.) But we are not good at loving those who are different. We do not love courageously or in faith. Sadly, with few exceptions, the love I’ve received at my church seems primarily to be a very explicable human kind of love (for biological family or for their religious cliques) and not the exceptional kind of love that transcends differences.

Why don’t we love as Jesus commanded?

The problem is when feelings lead rather than faith. Many go through the motions of outreach and missions. However, it is too often only a do-gooder project, a chance to prove our religious chops, a way to feel good about ourselves, and not sacrificial or done in sincere love. The problem is not that we are bad people. The problem is that it truly is difficult, perhaps even impossible, to love those who do not produce feelings of love within us first. We may excuse our lack of love as “being a good steward” and wise use of resources, but could it be that we simply do not have the faith to go beyond our own calculations of another person’s worth?

We use what we know about other people as a reason not to invest in them. We treat idioms like, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks” as if they are truths. We use our past and prejudices as guides rather than give freely to those who ask (Matthew 5:42) and trust God. We do not act in an open-handed way towards others when we presume to know the future based on what we know of past performance. Unfortunately, in doing this, we too often feed a self-fulfilling prophecy and are actually contributing to their failure.

The paradox?

Sometimes feelings of love come only after you practice love first. Sometimes it is only after we have invested significantly in another person’s success that we begin to care about their circumstances. Faithful love is not based on feelings. Faithful love is doing more than what we are able to rationalize or justify as prudent in our own minds. Faithful love means loving even when you may never see the results.

Faithful love is only possible for those who know that they did not deserve love themselves and act accordingly. We were saved by grace and therefore should show grace to those who need salvation.

C) Nobody can save themselves. Some of us can live in an illusion of independence, but even those without my traumatic birth experience needed the life support of a mother’s womb to survive and could not exist otherwise. We are not self-creating nor self-sustaining creatures and all have gained through the work of others. Nobody gives birth to themselves—not even a hermit in Alaska or Chuck Norris.

The same is true of our Christian life. No man has saved themselves through their own efforts. We cannot come to faith and remain faithful outside of Christ and the church he established. I did not come to faith by my own efforts nor has anyone else. Even the Bible is a written testimony of faith given, compiled, preserved, translated and interpreted by the church. We are saved by grace through faith (Ephesians 2:8) and this means that someone else acted graciously on our behalf to even give us a choice to act in faith.

I could get more into the theology and theory here. But cutting to the chase…

Here’s How the Theory Played Out For Me

My own journey of faith started a new chapter a few years ago. My faith was stronger than ever, but still could not overcome that invisible enemy that always seemed to keep me just short of success. So, putting it all on the line, I prayed, “God, make the impossible possible for me” and believed (despite my unbelief) that faith would prevail.

But I did not sit and wait around doing nothing. I resolved to be an answer to prayer before getting my answer to prayer. I began to say “yes” (despite my feelings of inadequacy) and became more willing to take on new friendships with strangers that my religious peers would consider risky or dangerous. I decided to love as I wished to be loved and not worry about my image so much.

Meanwhile, as I reached out in faith, my own hope against hope hit a wall of opposition and from the very people I had trusted to be faithful. These were supposed to be the ones who would stand up for me, give me a chance, and show me love, but instead I got betrayal and lies. It was confusing to me. They would all say that they believed that the extraordinary claims of the Bible were true, but they sure didn’t act like it.

Eventually their doubts became mine. My experience over the past few years seemed to be only a delusion. The promises about faith written in the Bible seemed untrue; the existence of God isn’t something we can prove, and I just wanted to be free from the commitment that had just drug my heart through the mud.

Two Are Indeed Better Than One

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. (Ecclesiastes 4:9‭-‬12)

It was because of the words of one very precious person that I didn’t act on my suicidal ideations. A year before it was my turn to save them from their despair. She was a single mother at the end of her rope, a little lost sheep, in a cold, dark, indifferent world, and not sure where to turn for help. In her first message, after I accepted her friend request, she basically apologized and told me she was unworthy to be my friend. My heart was instantly filled with compassion for her and I made it my mission to restore her faith.

Little did I know that a year later she would be acting as my Jesus and refusing to let go of my hand as I slipped beneath the waves. She was my only reason not to throw in the towel on life. I lived for her because there was nothing in myself left worth living for. Later it dawned on me, in my faithfulness to her over the past year, I had sowed the seeds for my deliverance from despair. In my love for her I found just enough meaning to the fight when I needed it most.

Around the time I had given up on faith, I got a friend request out of the blue. This person, someone of admirable conviction and unusual love, was excited about something I wrote in a blog about an unnatural love only possible with faith. Unbeknownst to them, the paradigm of faith that inspired my words was crashing and burning around me. As much as I wanted to, I could no longer believe my own words anymore and had given up.

I more or less told this inquiring reader, albeit in different words: “the show is over, I was a peddler of nonsense, so move along now and don’t trip on the wreckage of my hopes and dreams.” But, this new friend, instead of taking my advice, offered to be my faith, to be as Hur and Aaron who held up the hand of Moses:

As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. (Exodus 17:11‭-‬12)

They believed in the mission even when I was too exhausted to continue. More than that, they offered the love that could only be explained by faith, they loved me through some of my most unlovable moments, and have not once failed in their commitment to be my editor. It is probably their encouragement that kept me plugging away and writing my experience.

Angels, Transition and Forgiveness

This is where the story gets interesting. To me, offering to edit my blogs was something only an angel would do. So, to express my gratitude, while feeling beleaguered like Elijah in the wilderness, I announced on Facebook that I had found an “angel” and that choice of wording would become significant a couple days later.

But just before all that, not having a clue what would soon transpire, before my faith ran into a road block, I had blogged about a job transition that I knew was coming and also a premonition that something else bigger was lurking ahead. Since posting that blog, the word “transition” had indeed been a big theme of my life. That is why I clicked on a link about transitions that came up on my news feed.

The video, posted by a Christian friend, was one of those prophetic speakers that play to confirmation bias in the same way that fortune cookies and horoscopes do. Basically, if you keep an insight vague enough it can be personalized by the reader and applied to almost any situation. I’m pretty skeptical of these things and normally don’t pay too much attention. However, the word “transition” in the title had hooked me.

I listened, nodding, as he talked about the difficulty of transition, he compared our transitioning to how an army is vulnerable when moving and explained how God would send an angel to guard over the transition. Suddenly he had my full and undivided attention. His advice? He stressed the importance of forgiveness as necessary for success in the new endeavor—which is a message hit me right in the heart and, after hearing that word, forgive is what I wanted to do.

I had been given someone as an angel to guard over my transition. I’m not sure if it is just a coincidence or not. Maybe I’m reading meaning into it that isn’t there? But the message was a profound reminder that the only successful way forward is the path of forgiveness.

Some Final Thoughts About Faith, Doubt, Encouragement and Love

No man, no matter how strong in faith, talented or independent can do it alone. We need each other and often more than we know.

Maybe you are too proud to ask for help? Perhaps you believe faith means stoicism? If that is the case, then please consider that even Jesus wanted companionship in his hour of tribulation and that some of the most noteworthy characters in Scripture were sometimes cowards even after seeing amazing things directly from God’s hand.

If Jesus literally could not carry his cross without help, why do we think we can bear our burdens alone?

If our Savior struggled with anxieties in the garden of Gethsemane, why do we feel like we have failed because of our own fear and doubt?

There may be times when our faith is tested while we are alone and we must do our best to stand. But that doesn’t mean we should leave others alone in their trials and tribulations. Being a member of the body of Christ means “if one part suffers, every part suffers with it” (1 Corinthians 12:26) and James tells us that our faith is expressed by how those in the church help each other:

What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing for their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead. (James 2:14-17)

There will be times where we all stumble and fall in faith. We should encourage each other. Do not be impatient when someone does not respond instantly to your love. Sometimes it takes time for the water and nutrients to soak in. Healing does not happen overnight for those who have been abandoned or severely wounded by the betrayals and indifference of others.

Who have you encouraged today?

Who have you helped?

My prior investment in others was the only thing that gave me the will to fight on. The investment of others in my life is the only reason I am here writing today. Do not neglect the important work of being your brother’s keeper. Love those nobody else loves. Love those that are unlovely and require faith to love.

Help With My Impossible Task

The church of my youth is full of nice people; a few did call to check in and probably more do care about me than took the time to inquire. Most of them are very decent people, in my opinion. However, I still found myself too often feeling spiritually malnourished while with them and I can’t live with settling for mediocrity or going through the motions. A final act of betrayal by those in the group whom I trusted most left me spiritually dead and has convinced me of a need to change. I would not have survived had not God provided ministering angels (in human form) to guard over me and I won’t ask for that again.

Thus, I find myself needing to do the impossible. I am forced to transition from the church where I spent nearly four decades of my life to an orthodoxy that still feels foreign to me. It is not my first choice, it has not been easy for me, and yet it is what I must do to remain faithful. Big chunks of my identity, if not my entire identity, were caught up in my Mennonite denomination and letting go of that is difficult. And not just that, the church is literally full of my family members; aunts, uncles, cousins and only remaining grandparent. Until recently it was easy and comfortable to be there just putting in time. But I know that I must live in faith and Jesus said to leave all behind and follow him.

So, as a final request, please pray for me to have a spirit of forgiveness. I must do the impossible and move on from the denomination that I loved, but cannot move on while hanging onto my hurts or carrying bitterness. My sincere faith was treated as garbage, the help provided by those I regarded to be my brotherhood for years was too often given grudgingly and seemingly always too little too late. It is hard to forgive those do not take responsibility for their actions (or lack thereof) and should do better, but…

“Father forgive them for they know not what they do!”

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"Common sense is the collection of prejudices acquired by age eighteen." Albert Einstein

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