Gulu: The Moving Pictures

I believe I’ve used the word “beautiful” more over the past two weeks to describe what I saw and experienced in Gulu and the Acholi than I have my whole life over. And part of me wishes for a new, better, more powerful – or just different – adjective.

But the truth is, no other word does them justice.

Watch:

more about "Acholi Church on Vimeo", posted with vodpod

The first video above (created by the brilliant Stephen Proctor of gi*inc) is just a splinter from the Sunday church service we attended (to which some incredible Faithful’s walked 50 miles). It portrays the simple honesty and incomparable joy inherent in their worship. It was unequivocally the most vibrant celebration I’ve ever seen happen among the people of God on any given Sunday. The Acholi know joy.

more about "I Need You More (Mocha Club, Uganda) …", posted with vodpod

This second is a piece Stephen put together using only flip camera footage, which captured the reality of their beautiful light and tuned me in to my shadowy life. I still can’t avoid tears when I see it and remember their perfect faces.

To be sure, True Light is brighter than it ever was, and “Beauty” has never been more perfectly defined.

THE Blog: The Africa that Changed Me

This has been such a difficult blog to write. I want so much to share everything about Gulu and the Acholi people, but feel a need to give you the brightest highlights and keep the rest to myself until it rises to the surface of circumstance. Not because it’s not worth sharing, but because I fear in sharing it without context, it might lose power. I don’t know, but I don’t yet want to take the risk. I am certain, though, that as time moves us forward, stories will be shared as they relate to circumstances and my experience will prove itself something beyond time.

Grace - a Women of Hope - with me after the meeting.

For now, I’ll share the part that changed me at my core.

God began something early on that I knew would break me by week’s end. Traveling with a team of artists and musicians whose experience and notoriety far exceeds my own, I confess the desire to prove myself equal. Though my stage and audience are considerably smaller, I wanted to clarify that “I’m just as good.” Quite shameful on its own, even more in light of where we were and why.

So on Sunday, after an indescribable morning church service attended by 150+ Acholi from distances as far as 50 miles, we went to the Home of Love to spend the afternoon sharing music, playing our own guitar-based American songs as the kids giggled with delight, and watching them sing and dance to their own rhythms and melodies. It was both beautiful and terrible, mostly because after sharing my own song and declaring it utterly suckful, I sunk into myself and allowed pride to overwhelm me.

That evening as I prayed and scoured the Word for some kind of encouragement or affirmation, a promise from God that I am, indeed, good enough for both my team and the Acholi, God slapped me across the face saying, “Who exactly do you think you are? Why on earth would your songs matter more here than mine, and why should I share my glory and honor and approval with you? Have you learned nothing of these people? Do you still not realize that they recognize and crave what’s eternal, and the only eternal thing you can offer them is Me and whatever comes from Me? I brought you here to love them with My love, to serve them, to give of yourself without condition and for My glory, that they may see Christ. And here, still, you seek an ego massage.”

I cried myself to sleep that night, overwhelmed but determined to put myself away. There really was no other choice. God is right: whatever I give, in song or deed, if not for and to Him is utterly without and will waste away and be forgotten. And so I would spend the rest of my time seeking only to be a tool. Whether He spoke to or through or around or about me didn’t matter, so long as I was surrendered to Him and lifting Him up. Even if that meant just shutting up.

Monday was a new day. We went back to the school to share songs with the kids and paint their handprints on a mural, and as we sang together and taught the kids American praise songs with all the motions, I felt a clean wave of liberty wash over me. What mattered was that I engaged. Whether or not my vocal or guitar playing abilities were up to par wasn’t the point. They loved that I was there, and so I was ALL there.

And on Tuesday – our last day – Missy, Genevieve, and I had the extreme honor of attending the Women of Hope meeting and sharing songs and the Word with 200+ women living with HIV/AIDS who meet weekly to hear Scripture and to love, encourage, and comfort one another. They sang their welcoming song when we arrived, and I was immediately asked to sing a couple songs, which I did with relish. They applauded, but I think by the end of the second they were ready for the Word. My English songs may have sounded pretty, but still unintelligible to a group of women who don’t speak my language.

So, after being asked to “give the message,” Missy and Genevieve each read to the women from the Psalms. What’s beautiful about these people is that when they ask for the Word of God, they aren’t asking for a sermon. They believe the Word speaks for Himself, so they read the Word together and applaud and celebrate God for His goodness in teaching them. They don’t need all our hoopla of exegesis and application.

When Missy and Genevieve finished, I was invited back up. I wasn’t sure if they wanted more songs or more of the Bible, so I asked. And, to my good humiliation, they made abundantly clear they did not, in fact, want more music, but more of the Word.

So, having just been over this with God, I said, “Sounds good.” And I began to read from Isaiah 54. I’m not sure why I chose that passage, and I admit I was unsure whether it would mean anything to them. But the day we arrived I remember reading it and thinking, “this is for these people.” For a people who’ve been torn by war for 23 years, ravaged by disease and poverty, homeless and so often hopeless.

So I read to the women.

“Sing, O barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband,” says the LORD. “Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. For you will spread out to the right and to the left; your descendants will dispossess nations and settle in their desolate cities. Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood. For your Maker is your husband—the LORD Almighty is his name—the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; 
he is called the God of all the earth. The LORD will call you back as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit—a wife who married young, only to be rejected,” says your God. “For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with deep compassion I will bring you back. In a surge of anger I hid my face from you for a moment, but with everlasting kindness 
I will have compassion on you,” says the LORD your Redeemer. “To me this is like the days of Noah, when I swore that the waters of Noah would never again cover the earth. So now I have sworn not to be angry with you, never to rebuke you again. Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the LORD, who has compassion on you. “O afflicted city, lashed by storms and not comforted, I will build you with stones of turquoise, your foundations with sapphires. I will make your battlements of rubies, your gates of sparkling jewels, and all your walls of precious stones. All your sons will be taught by the LORD, and great will be your children’s peace. In righteousness you will be established: Tyranny will be far from you; you will have nothing to fear. Terror will be far removed; it will not come near you. If anyone does attack you, it will not be my doing; whoever attacks you will surrender to you. See, it is I who created the blacksmith who fans the coals into flame and forges a weapon fit for its work. And it is I who have created the destroyer to work havoc; no weapon forged against you will prevail, and you will refute every tongue that accuses you. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and this is their vindication from me,” declares the LORD.”

As they heard the chapter in their own language, I watched something amazing happen. Throughout the reading, women cheered and hollered and shouted their “Hallelujah!”s and “AMEN!”s. One woman in the front kept looking at me with tearful eyes, smiling and giving a thumbs-up, apparently pleased with the passage.

And afterwards, when the women gathered to hug us Mzungus (white people) and introduce themselves, many explained their cheers. They are barren women, sick with HIV/AIDS and unable to conceive, abandoned by their husbands and scorned by society, riddled with worry about their children’s futures. They said these verses were indeed from God, a gift for them. They celebrate and revel in the promise of an Eternal Husband, a Redeemer who re-purposes the sick woman’s life, who Fathers her children and establishes them in peace and righteousness, protecting them from danger, terror, and even death.

I was moved to tears, overcome with gratitude to God for letting me deliver good news that day. It was as if clouds opened up and He pointed down and said, “See! I told you!”

I was even more moved when, in thanks to me (for what?), the Women of Hope gave me a new Acholi name.

“Amaro-Rwot.”

Which means,

“I love God.”

Missing [my other home] Gulu

I can’t recall ever taking so long or expending so much energy and patience to write a blog. But what I want to tell about Gulu – and more specifically about my experience and why I’ll hopefully never be the same – deserves more time, more editing, more energy. I want to give you the best of what they gave me, with as few errors or potholes of distraction as possible.  

Or maybe I’m just an obsessively compulsive perfectionist. Wink, wink. 

Either way, until THE blog is ready, I’ll share a few pearls I’ve threaded into a necklace I intend to wear daily.

The Acholi people (the largest tribe in the country, who occupy most of Northern Uganda, and who have for the past two years enjoyed the first tastes of peace after a 23 year civil war waged by Joseph Kony and the Lord’s Resistance Army) are eager and generous with their love and kindness. From daily half-a-block walks to and from the internet cafe marked by countless toothy grins and “How are you? I’m fine!”s, to giggling children who are simply overcome with joy by the fact that Mzungus (white people) want to hear them sing their songs and dance their dances, their love is an effortless and unconditional kind unlike anything I’ve ever seen. They expect and want nothing but a genuine smile. 

Having all lost so much and so many to terror, violence, disease, and disaster, they know how fleeting a moment can be and embrace each with ferocious joy. It’s hard not to define them as a dizzyingly happy people, because it’s rare to see anyone without a smile. Even when they’re feeling ill and asking for prayer, they do it with a smile.

But still, you know they carry the burden of recent history and understand in a special way that life can change or end at any second, so if this one is good, it ought to be celebrated. And celebrate they do. 

For me, just being an observer among them for a week was liberating. It may be because the economy won’t allow for it, or more likely because they just know better than to waste time with such pettiness, the Acholi have little time and patience for vanity. Clothes don’t match and are rarely perfectly clean. Cosmetics are an expensive luxury, one most refuse in favor of covering their feet or feeding their families. Self-expression through fashion or hair style seems unlikely, as their clothing is either the “imported” castaways from America’s thrift stores or made from cheap materials; and most men, women, and children alike wear short or shaved hair. It’s better to keep away lice and other bugginess. And deoderant? What’s deoderant? 

I can’t describe how freeing it was to be among people who aren’t silently analyzing my fashion choices or checking my legs to see if they’re shaved. It was nice to know that if, after a long day of painting, my Secret was all worn off, no one would notice much less care. I’m white, so I’m going to I stand out. Any details beyond that aren’t worth following.

What’s more, I saw in them a desire simply to show us they’re kind and warm, forward-moving and modern; That they’re cheerful and can find beauty and humor in nearly anything; That they’re resourceful and creative, hard working, intelligent, and most of all good. They love and crave God and His goodness. They have much more to offer than war. They want to learn and teach. They want to create.

Above all, they are a community-driven people. They’ve all lost family and friends to war, so they ferociously grip the relationships they now have as a life source. It was rare to see anyone walking anywhere alone. And in the evenings, when most Americans are holed up in their giant homes on acres of “private property” watching fake lives play out on flat screen TVs, safe from the annoying distractions of other humans, the Acholi are hanging out and enjoying one another. One evening, we saw a group of at least 50 people gathered around one small TV for a major soccer event! They don’t go home until the restaurant’s generator is turned off and they’re sent away. And whether they’ve known you for years or you’re meeting for the first time, they treat you as a kindred soul and intimate friend. Even the Mzungus.

The children are no different. Whether walking home from school in groups, navigating the market for dinner, giving you the tour of their school or orphanage, or selling sugar cane across the street, they’re quick to extend a hand to shake and even quicker to offer a wide grin to a stranger. I guess, to them, no one is a stranger.

Quite simply, they want to love and be loved.

They were concerned not with appearances – with impressing us with fancy clothes or fresh scents, huge hotel suites, or five-star meals (though they did an incredible job at making our stay as comfortable and upscale as possible within the context of their culture) – but with making us, the Mzungus, feel welcome, comfortable, and at home. 

And I did. I felt as at home with them as I ever have in America.

Toward the end of the week I took a moment to sit down with Judith, one of the hotel staff who seemed to rather enjoy my silliness and my inability to speak their language correctly despite both our efforts. She thought my self-depricating jokes were hilarious. She liked that I wore crazy-looking shirts. And, pulling me aside, she said, ‘Miss Ahh-mee, you are very down to ground. Most Mzungus don’t like us…they think we’re bad and useless, just full of war and disease. But you…I like you. And I like that you like me.” I told her she was quite easy to like, and she liked that too. We both decided we were soul sisters, and that one of us – most likely me – was just born the wrong color and on the wrong continent. 

One of our team later told me that Judith told him I’m actually African.

And recalling that makes me miss my other home, my other family, even more.

The Heights of Success

Yesterday morning, as I ate some cereal, drank some (delicious) coffee, and perused Little Rock’s local-yokel magazine, Soiree, reading about “women to watch” in the area, I got to thinking about success.

I suppose it was a natural progression of thought springing from the definitions given by the watchable women, most of whom agreed success was tied either to greater levels of wealth or power in the ever-changing, dangerous organism that is capitalism at work.

And perhaps it had a little to do with the fact that I was waking up from a two day stint in Little Rock, where I gave two of what I’d consider my best concerts ever.

Neither was particularly “well attended.” One was a private concert for the men and women served by Little Rock’s Union Rescue Mission, and followed a couple hours of serving them dinner and hearing some incredible life stories. Including the kiddos, there may have been fifty people hanging out on the lawn in the balmy evening heat to listen to me sing and talk. The second concert was   open to the public but predominantly attended by young people ranging from 13 to 16 in age. Again, when all was said and done, numbers counted and all, there were probably about 50 of us hanging out for the evening.

But wow. As I drove away this morning, I felt pretty successful.

After the concert on the lawn for the URM, one woman wrote and passed me a note about her experience. She said she couldn’t explain it in a conversation, because she’d end up crying her way through. But in her note, she spoke of the lost years she lived as a prostitute and drug addict, which were odd juxtaposed to her upbringing under a Baptist minister. She appreciated what she called “fearless” songs; songs that look at the darker, harsher, deeper sides of life – sides so many people can’t relate to, much less discuss, much less publically. She appreciated the “real”ness of it. And while thanking me for being usable in Lord’s hands, I was quietly thanking God for affirming me and my passion. And what a gift it was to go back to the Dorcas House today and spend a bit more time with those women who spend their days overcoming.

The second concert was equally encouraging, though in different ways. Like I said, it was for youth. Teenagers who don’t have a lot of money to either buy CDs or join Mocha Club. Teenagers who typically don’t appreciate the deeper things as much as we old soul’s do. Teenagers who might have been humoring their youth pastor by sitting quietly through my concert. But these guys…they were fun. They were generous. And they gave of themselves. They came and served with me at the URM. And after the concert, they gave up their money for bigger things. Many of them joined Mocha Club, and set the age of selflessness just a couple years younger. Many wanted to buy CDs and purchase jewelry or bags created by women rescued from sex slavery, but only having the money for one, chose to be part of the rescue efforts. And a few of them even let me sign their arms…and thought THEY got away with the best end of the deal.

Yeah.

As I look back over the last couple days, I feel lucky. I feel affirmed. I feel hopeful. I feel an overwhelming sense of awe as leaves take form on the branches of trees that were mere seeds in my palm just a few years ago. And I know I’m moving in the right direction and tilling the right soil when I am part of the passing out of Hope to people who know to grab hold of it, or am able to facilitate – or just watch! – young people stepping into the role of giver while most of their peers remain content simply to receive.

Indeed, money or no money, tour bus or no tour bus, arena or no arena, fame or no fame…Tonight, I am satisfied in my soul and in want of nothing.

Somewhere Between Truth and Faith

We are a middle generation. A generation dancing somewhere between the fundamentalist foundation of our Baby Boomer parents and the “new” direction so many Emergents long for us to follow.

I am only one of many seekers eager to know and embrace absolute Truth but remain humbly aware of our inability to know it absolutely. I am one of many who were raised to find respite in the stability of doctrine and take comfort in the supremacy and authority of Scripture, but who have since come to find that, more often than not, point-by-point doctrine cannot speak to the gray areas of everyday life that require the deep-seated wisdom borne of a true relationship with the Most High who equips us to discern His will rather than simply telling us what He wants.

Many are we who were raised by champions of doctrine, have studied the chapters, can recite the passages and relay stories of faith and miracle. And yet we struggle to bridge the gulf between the Truth that binds us together as One, and our authentic, deeply personal and uniquely individual faith that acts and lives and breathes Christ as differently through each of us as we are unique in personality.

Many are we who – so the saying goes – talk the talk, often verbatim and in unison, and yet fail to walk the walk when our journeys lead us down different and lonely paths and into some seemingly contradictory ends. It is much easier to remain One when we remain close in proximity.

And yet we know it is along the lonely path that Christ becomes defined in us each, when His face and power take on our unique features, and He takes form and becomes perfected in our varied skins and personalities.

So where do we find commonality along our unique journeys? Where do we turn when doctrine cannot answer the challenges of real life, and we lack the understanding to treat our different beliefs and their implications?

We turn to Christ, His life and teachings, and to the example of His disciples.

There we find Him surrounded by twelve men from as varied and opposing backgrounds and vocations as our own, but who abandon their posts to follow Christ…together. We find a tax collector living alongside the fishermen he formerly swindled. We find a zealot mingling with unclean gentiles. We find lovers of Christ forgiving His betrayers…because such is the Way of Christ.

Perhaps more significantly, we see them joining with Christ during His ministry and continuing it even after He’s left them with His Spirit, setting aside their former divisive concepts of black and white truth, and taking up the cross of service and love to become the hands and feet and miraculous power of Christ to those who had yet to hear.

And while they continued to debate doctrine and go head-to-head on matters of theological truth, they remained bound by the sole profound and elemental Truth that roots authentic Faith deep in the soul: the resurrection of Christ, apart from which everything is done in vain. As Paul, for whom “to live is Christ, to die is gain” taught, “If Christ be not raised, our faith is in vain.”

And I believe for we who live in this middle generation, unity looks like a continual search for basic Truth tempered by the humility to accept our limitations, as we ban together under Christ’s resurrection.

And we love. We serve.

For, in all Christ taught and did while He walked among humanity, He made inarguably clear exactly what sets the True believer apart from frauds, how He would separate His sheep from the goats. And in the end, it all boils down to how we treat the fatherless and the widow, whether we clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and comfort the oppressed. Do we love justice and mercy? Do we walk humbly with God, recognizing our limitations in humility, seeking above all to know and love one another rather than beat or one-up each other?

These are not new or groundbreaking concepts. They’re foundational and fundamental. God has outlined for us throughout Scripture, implicitly and explicitly, that there is knowable and unknowable Truth. “For now we see dimly, as in a mirror, but then we shall see face to face.” That the soil of doubt and doctrinal differences and discussions are the purest for the seeds of faith, and for the evolution of belief based in but independent from doctrine.

In terms more specific to our times, these concepts come to life in exercising God-given intellect, the power of the mind, to discuss and hash through questions of human origin, honestly seeking a balance between science and spirituality. And in continually testing and challenging those doctrines time has taught us to blindly embrace. And in remaining humbly aware of our intellectual inferiority to the Creator against whose wisdom even the wisest men are fools.

Socially, Truth and Faith come to life in feeding and clothing the homeless and treating them as spiritual equal, beloved of Christ. In embracing and caring for the single mom, regardless of her situation. In loving homosexuals and providing them a safe context within which to live and struggle and succeed, whether or not we agree with their lifestyle.

It means giving and doing all we can to ensure that those dying for lack of clean water no longer go thirsty, either physically or spiritually. It means giving our hearts over to the brokenness of loving a man, woman, or child whose only ever known sexual slavery, and lending them hope.

It means living a humble and selfless but wholly pleasing life before God, that others may see and know Whose we are.

It means, essentially and simply, living Christ.

The question is not whether or not we are embracing the right doctrines and asserting correct Truths. But…

Are we Christ to an unsuspecting world?

Is Charity an Act of Will, Obedience, or Nature?

From my previous blogs it’s obvious the common problem many Christians have with the idea of socialism is that the sharing of goods is a requirement rather than a voluntary act of the will.

Which got me thinking, why is it so important that sharing from one’s abundance with those who have less be voluntary rather than obligatory? And, more to the point, does Scripture ask us to give, tell us to give, or simply say we will give if indeed we belong to Christ?

Here’s what I’ve come to so far (and again, I’m thinking out loud):

This concept that “I shouldn’t be forced to share what I’ve worked hard to earn” is one practiced and understood only in communities whose people have come to depend on their acquisitions as a source of worth, status, and identity. In short, it’s the chief source of Self, of Pride. We believe (consciously or not) that whether acquired by hard work, education, or birth right, we deserve what we have. And conversely, those who own less have earned and deserve less.

This social distinction is necessary so that when we “give voluntarily” to those in need, we acquire in return a sense of goodness for having “chosen” to help. We are champions of the poor and oppressed, who pat ourselves on the backs for giving something away. Our hungry pride is further fed, and the truth of the exchange – that we haven’t actually given anything, but simply made a trade – is utterly lost.

But what if caring for the needy is not a choice?

From what I see in Scripture, most notably in Matthew 24:31-46 (but also elsewhere in the New Testament, where both true love and faith are linked irrevocably to giving of oneself), caring for the needy is neither a choice nor a mandate, but simply the Mark of a true Believer. If we belong to Christ, we will care for the least of these. It’s a matter of definition and identity. Just as a singer sings and a plumber plumbs, a Christian, by definition, gives selflessly from an attitude that says, “If I have something you need, then by virtue of needing it, you ought to have it.” It’s not mine to give, but yours to have. It’s a subtle but significant distinction.

We want and have made it a matter of choice because “choosing” to give feeds our pride.

What I find ironic is that when we do strip away the status of ownership – when all needs and property become shared needs and property – we finally grasp real worth. We find that we’re each infinitely and inherently valued by God and necessary to the Kingdom simply because He marked us with His image and a unique personality and spirit at Creation. My worth is no longer tied to what I have or can give away, but to the simple fact that because God made and marked only one Amy Jo Courts-Koopman, I belong and am utterly irreplaceable.

Inevitably though, when stripped of the stuff and left with the nude self, we can’t help but become painfully aware of our equally inherent deficits. We’re shown in great need of what can only be met by humbling ourselves to receive and learn from those who are rich in the qualities we lack.

In the end, the great irony is that we need giving to be a choice because, in our pride, we cannot fathom being worth what we haven’t earned, and we cannot tolerate having nothing to give but ourselves. And we really can’t stand true equality, because it means we all are equally depraved…or needy.

But if we can give what we have “out of the goodness of our hearts,” at least we have our own goodness to fall back on, which sets us just a step above the others.

I don’t know how this all fits in the context of voluntary love or how it coincides with the fact that authentic love cannot be forced. But I have a feeling that it all comes back to the basic Truth that “we love because Christ first loved us.” I have a feeling the we’re capable of giving love only in response to (or in overflow from) what love we’ve already received.

Which again, isn’t so much a voluntary act of the will, but a natural succession or response…Once I’m filled to the brim with love, my cup runs over into others.

It’s worth pondering…

Was Jesus a Socialist: The Discussion Continues…

A point of clarification I’m allowed to make 30-comments-in, just because I’m the blog owner (and I get to do what I want): While I believe the Christian values of caring for the needy, and the least being treated as the greatest are reflected in socialism, I don’t believe Jesus was an *actual* socialist, or that He would – were He walking among us today – endorse any of the various forms of government. In fact, I believe that since the Devil is currently in charge of the world’s governments (according to Matt. 4:8-10, when the Devil offered Jesus all the Kingdoms of the world [which Jesus turned down, obviously] which implies they were the Devil’s to offer), none will ever earn the endorsement of Christ. I ought to have said that from the start instead of saying “Jesus sanctioned socialism.” I was dumb to have said that…or at very least, not paying attention. But, you live and read comments and learn and amend. Moving along…

—————–

I won’t lie: I’m a little frustrated right now. My brother-in-law, who is a pastor in McCook, NE and blogs on theology, apologetics, culture, and more as part of his church’s ministry, responded in his own blog to my post-election thoughts. But that’s not what’s making me nuts. What’s driving me crazy is the fact that I can’t log in to respond to his blog on his blog.

So I’m left with one option: to move his blog over here and continue the discussion. I certainly don’t mind – but in fact, find immense joy – in the conversation.

I just hate technology sometimes.

Anyway, I’d like to respond point-by-point to his responsive blog entitled “Jesus Institued Socialism?” (which I’ll only quote here in red, to save space, but can be found in full here):

[Quoted from my previous blog: What we see happening in Acts 2 is exactly that: socialism, if not communism, even. The equal distribution and sharing of all wealth, goods, and property among all people so that no one is richer and thus more significant, or poorer and thus less significant.]

First, one will notice that Jesus is not even present.

Really!? Jesus wasn’t present with the early Church!?

Forgive the sarcasm. I think it should be obvious that while Jesus may not have been <i>physically</i> present with the early Church, He was most certainly present in their hearts, at the forefront of their thoughts, His principles, values, and teachings foremost in their consideration of how to “set up shop.” To assert otherwise is just plain silly. His promised Holy Spirit was among them, reminding them of Christ’s Way. So while Jesus may not have explicitly said, “This is how I want you to live in community with one another, by sharing everything,” His daily teachings and the way in which He continually engaged with His twelve closest disciples and hundreds of other followers is certainly reflected in their “share all things; have everything in common” lifestyle. They were, indeed, continuing His work in His Way. Whether sanctioned by explicit word or implied by deed, their way was Christ’s Way.

Second, we must consider that the church, not the government, is the primary subject here. There are distinct roles given to church and distinct roles given to government. What is the right and responsibility of one is not necessarily the right and responsibility of the other.

Indeed, the Church IS the primary subject here. However, while it’s not our government’s responsibility to obey Scripture, it is arguably every American Christian’s right and responsibility to vote for the candidate we believe most fully (though will never completely) reflects our Biblical values and makes Christian priorities National priorities (or abstain from voting if participating violates one’s conscience). This doesn’t mean seeking, electing, or promoting a “Christian” President, but supporting a platform that reflects Christ’s heart for people. (And, inevitably, we will often disagree about who’s platform best reflects Christian values.)

Third, Acts is written as historical narrative. It is not didactic in nature so what we find there is a record of what happened, but not necessarily what should be. A good example of this is the life of the patriarchs described in Genesis. Many were polygamists. We cannot make the leap that just because something is recorded that it therefore has God’s sanction. We must go elsewhere for our doctrine of marriage. In Acts we see that people are doing something (sharing their things), but that in no way makes it normative.

First, that Acts is written in historical narrative does not negate its usefulness as a model for the current day Church. In this instance, I believe the early Church is a model for the Church today and forever. Why? Because they lived, breathed, ate, and drank the life and teachings of Christ. Having been born of His death, resurrection, and ascension, and being the only examples we have of people who knew Christ in person as close friend, Savior, and God, it seems obvious by extention that their fellowship without His physical presence would model the fellowship they shared with Him. Theirs are the nearest hearts to (and thus, I’d say, the most reflective of) Christ’s heart for His established Church, all people worldwide, and future of His Kingdom that we can see modeled in action. They were living and setting up shop in the wake of the single most defining moment in the history of the God-human relationship. No doubt they did everything with deliberation in light of all Christ did and taught, explicitly and implicitly.

Second, I find the example of the patriarchs and their polygamy ill-fitting to the context, since polygamy was expressly condemned numerous times throughout the Mosaic Law (most notably in the Ten Commandments). We find no such condemnation – implicit or otherwise – of the Way of the early Church. His endorsement of their Way, though not explicit, I believe is inferred simply by their doing it.

Third, while its record in Acts doesn’t make the sharing of all things normative, the more-than 2,000 commands in Scripture to care for the orphan and widow, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and otherwise treat the least as the greatest certainly support their communistic fellowship as “standard behavior” for Christians. Certainly Christ’s explicit warning in Matthew 25:31-46 in which He describes exactly how He will separate the sheep from the goats – i.e. by whether or not we have fed the hungry, quenched the thirsty, clothed the naked, visited the prisoner, and welcomed the stranger – serves as ample evidence that this is the Kingdom Way: to give selflessly from every possible reserve, whether financial, time, or goods.

Should Christians be gracious? Yes. Compassionate? Yes. But here is the catch: grace cannot be mandated. For grace to be grace it cannot be a requirement. If it is required (such as a wage) it is justice, not grace. The church can therefore encourage its members to live out these virtues, but not even the church can put it into ecclesiastical law.

While I agree that giving and service to the church ought to be a matter of graciousness and selflessness – the deliberate decision of a cheerful giver (which God loves) – the mandate to care for the fatherless and the widow is, again, not optional. I don’t know how to make this more clear than to italicize and embold: True Christ-followers will be known, defined, and separated based on how they actively respond to the greatest commandment to Love the Lord their God with all heart, soul, mind, and strength, and their neighbors as themselves. (Matt. 23:37-39, 1 John 2:3) Christ’s example, His teaching, and the teaching of His nearest discipes make abundantly and irrefutably clear that ours is a family, a nation, marked by love made evident in service, that the world may come to know the glory and salvation of Christ. We will be known (and judged, eternally) by our love and how its expressed in our selflessness (John 15:13, 1 John 3:16).

This is born out a few chapters later in chapter 5 when Ananias and Sapphira sell their goods and give it to the church (as we saw in ch 2). Their problem was that they lied. Peter makes it quite clear (v4) that they had no obligation to give it to the church. It was their money to do with as they pleased.

The difference here is that we’re not talking about tithing to the church or selling their stuff to give to the church.

We’re talking about the Biblical mandate, seen both explicitly and implictly throughout the entirety of Scripture and laid out in detail by Christ Himself, to care and provide for those in need, both physically and spiritually. This is not a matter of finances, but of how the true Gospel is spread and disciples are made.

If not even the church, as God’s ordained institution for effecting his will on earth, can make such demands on people, how can we legitimately make the leap to the government doing it?

Here we part ways. I believe God has commanded His people to care for and plead on behalf of the poor, impoverished, and desperately-in-need. And I believe my vote for Obama, whose policies reflect the Christian values and obligation to care for the least of these, is as justified by Scripture (I’d even argue more justified) as the votes of so many Believers who voted for McCain “on behalf of the unborn.”

A Summation of My Post-Election Feelings

I wrote the following in a note to a family member, but thought it appropriate to post here as well, in hopes that it makes clear why I have a little more hope today than I’ve (not) enjoyed over the last eight years.

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What excites me about the prospects with Obama in office – and intrigues me about the widespread fearful response of so many Believers to his election – is that the system which so many call and fear as “socialist” (implicitly evil and utterly wrong) is actually the kind of community living Christ Himself designed, sanctioned, and ordained for the Church. What we see happening in Acts 2 is exactly that: socialism, if not communism, even. The equal distribution and sharing of all wealth, goods, and property among all people so that no one is richer and thus more significant, or poorer and thus less significant.

As our Nation has progressed in its Capitalist ventures and ideals, we’ve watched a new sort of caste system develop in which the rich get richer (not because they’ve *actually* worked harder, hand-to-steele, but because they’ve lied better, and climbed ladders of people, stomping on others to get to the highest seat where they enjoy great power and wealth but little responsibility) while the poor are brushed aside as unwanted and unworthy, because – for having lost a job or been unable to find one in our “great” economy – we’ve deemed them lazy freeloaders.

I’ve watched a system develop in which – and have even heard dear friends and family say, no holds barred – those who can’t afford things like basic health insurance don’t actually *deserve* it.

I’ve heard health care called a privilege of the wealthy rather than a right afforded to all humans by virtue of breathing.

I’ve heard conservatives rail on about the evils of abortion as part of a so-called “pro-life” community, and yet once the mother does right by carrying to term and having the child, she – and her newborn – are left to fend for themselves, vulnerable to judgement and condemnation when they seek the government aid they need to fill their stomachs and keep a roof over their heads.

I’ve heard pundit after pundit, friend after friend, Christian after Christian, call on those kids growing up in violent, drug-ridden neighborhoods to “buck it up and do something about their situation because it’s their American right and ability to do so,” but unilaterally deny them every opportunity to rise above circumstance. From refusing them proper education to condemning them for their parents’ or neighbors’ sins. We call them out of the life of poverty and crime we’ve abandoned them to, refuse them aid, and then condemn them for continuing the only cycle of life they’ve ever known. As if, put in their situation, we’re certain we would know exactly what to do and how to do it (and have the confidence to achieve it).

Suffice it to say, I’ve watched – horrified – as Christians talk about “christian values” and yet refuse the most basic of rights, like medical treatment and food for the belly, to those they deem unworthy of receiving. It’s especially sickening when these are the very same people Christ deemed worthy of the goods and commanded to provide.

But what I see in Obama’s platform and policies is a return to caring for the least of these – a return to treating the least as the greatest and issuing value based on humanity rather than wealth – as Christ commanded. I see a Leader who could, potentially, turn our Nation’s attention and provision to global atrocities, an ever-growing sex trade, and genocide being perpetrated the world over, rather than allow us who have the money and power to help to sit idly by. I see a Leader who is respected by Foreign Leaders and Dignitaries and can, potentially, dig us out of our international grave. I finally see hope for an end to these wars which have cost us so dearly in soldier lives.

More importantly, I see a Nation of people – and the Church, more significantly – learning to give selflessly for the sake of another, without passing judgement. I see all people of all backgrounds and all economic statuses finally being treated (and cared for) as equal human beings, created by God for His spectacular glory. It has been the Church’s duty thus far, and we have failed so miserably! Perhaps now, whether out of anger to a new kind of government or out of simple necessity, the Church will finally do what has been ours to do all along, so our government doesn’t have to!

I have great hope both in our Nation and in the Church. And while I’m not holding my breath for the Nation, I would for the Church.

But only if the Church actually starts *acting* (read: loving and serving) like the real, Christ-ordained Church instead of like selfish, petulant American children who don’t want to share what God has graciously provided.

The Randomness: A Generalized Update

I’ve got a cold, so this may be random. But hey, what can you do with a cloudy braid but write a blog about everything?

I just read a blog entitled “The Music Debate” about the place of “secular” music in the church. Interesting. It got me thinking about the calling card of so many mid-90’s bands: “We’re not a ‘christian’ band; we’re christians IN a band.” I remember MXPX going on about it – mostly cause they were being hounded by Christians who didn’t appreciate their not-all-about-God music. I guess I didn’t really have a problem with it. What I had a problem with were the people who said, “I’m a musician who happens to be a Christian.” Cause that’s backward, to me.

Here’s why: Whatever I am, and whatever I do, I am identified by and with Christ. His blood runs in my veins; His DNA is imprinted on my genes; His priorities are my priorities, His values are my values; His new law of love and service and self-sacrifice are written on my heart. God is growing Christ in me to make me who I really am. At my very core, by definition, I belong to Christ and am identified as His.

So really, my faith is not just another part of who I am. It is the filter through which every other identifying factor is sifted. My belief system is a product of my faith. My politics are a product of my faith. My songs are all tempered – or salted, as it were – by my faith. The way I relate to people is filtered by Him who lives at my center. Indeed, whether I’m singing about my husband, hurting because of a broken relationship, angry about work, or overjoyed by an opportunity, I am doing so as a Believer, just as I’m doing so as a ‘Courts.’ Just as my family DNA has an effect on everything I do and say, so does Christ’s. It’s who I am…not just what I’m about.

So, in the end, I’m not an artist who happens to be a Christian. I am a Christian who happens to be an artist, a wife, a friend, a sister, a dog owner, a writer, a thinker. Whatever I am is primarily identified by Christ in me.

It’s just an interesting thread to follow.

Here’s another thread to follow: I’m a little bit obsessed with ebay and craigslist right now. Since our desktop PC crashed and now lives, unplugged and utterly useless, in our closet, I have been scouring tax-free sales lists for sweet deals on iMacs. Indeed, when I decided to buy my first laptop two years ago, I bought an Apple iBook G3 which solidified my committment to Macs. Then, when its screen started acting funny, I bought my second mac, a PowerBook G4 which I’ve upgraded to the max (it runs on Leopard with a 1.5gHz processor – the best of its kind – and at 1.25gb, is maxed out Ram) and am currently typing on. I love it. It’s given me some trouble for sure – not two months after I bought it, I had to get a new hard drive and dc-in…but I blame that entirely on an evil ebay seller who neglected to tell me the facts about the machine. Still, it’s a dream.

And so, as I peruse the cybersales looking for an iMac desktop, I inevitably get sidetracked by the oh-so-cheap $85 350gb external hard drive, and the $400 Dell gaming pc which Paul would love, Love, LOVE but about which I’m understandably wary, since our now-dead PC was a dream machine when we bought it, but which failed to make it through one itty bitty viral attack. So while I like the “cheap” factor, I hate the “PC” factor.

The worst part about our PC dying is the fact that I cannot access our 10gb of iTunes music, and can’t transfer what’s currently on the iPod to my de-lovely powerbook. Why? Because my iPod is formatted for PC, not mac, and because apple is totally anal about people not sharing music. So I’ve spent the last few sick days importing all our CDs onto my powerbook. I’m currently importing Fleetwood Mac’s “Say You Will.” Good music, for sure.

I think that’s all I’ve got for right now.

Except one more thing: I really can’t wait for next Wednesday when voting will be over, the campaigns done, and we won’t have to listen to any more drivel from either side. At this point, I don’t really care who wins; I just want to get on with life.

Can I get an AMEN!

This is Not a Revolutionary Idea

I’ve believed for a long time the Christ-difference is in how He turned everything upside down.

Jesus taught the folly of pride and the glory of humility, the concepts of the least being greatest, the last being first, the most powerful being the empowerer. He is the King whose Kingship is marked by service, the Savior who takes the place of the one who thinks he doesn’t need saving. Perfection willingly taking on imperfection, He is the living, breathing demonstration of authentic love, power, and glory being utterly and unconditionally self-sacrificial.

His Way is the quintessential opposite of human nature. And in all He did and taught, Jesus turned things upside-down, backward.

But it has occurred to me – and this is not a revolutionary idea – that Jesus’ Way is not upside down or backward; we are. All along, His way was the intended way.

And all along, from Adam to me, He has set about the business of putting us right-side-up.

Perhaps that’s why we’re all so dizzy.