Biblical Truth and Political Correctness

"We all win when people and organizations stand up for Biblical truth. Political correctness doesn't change lives, truth does."

-comment on a colleague's Facebook Post

The internet seems to be very concerned with World Vision's recent actions regarding their hiring policy. If you're not sure what's going on, it's worth a google.

The main thing for me is that somehow Biblical Truth has gotten tied up into hiring practices at a child-centered charity. The Bible is a big book/small library written over hundreds of years by dozens of hands. Some Christians call it infallible, other Christians call it inerrant, other Christians are hesitant to ascribe it with any absolute. Some Christians doubt the Christianity of Christians who disagree with their views on the Bible (have fun with that syntax!).

The idea of Biblical Truth, however, is a pretty fuzzy concept to pin down. People have been debating what exactly is "truth" for as long as we've been able to ask abstract questions. Luckily for us, scripture identifies its truth for us:

"Jesus answered, "I am the way, the truth, and the life."

John 14:6a

Common English Bible (2011-06-15). CEB Common English Bible with Apocrypha (Kindle Location 50570). Abingdon Press. Kindle Edition. 

The person and work of Jesus Christ is the Biblical Truth, and most Christians will spend most of their faith journey trying to figure out what exactly that means. For me, right now, it means that even though we were enemies of God, God still loved us enough to become flesh and walk among us, going even to his death so that we would no longer be separated from the God who loves us.

In the face of that kind of Biblical Truth, how can one turn away anyone? God certainly does not. When people and organizations stand up for Biblical Truth, I do believe we all win. I do believe that God's love is relentlessly transformative, and that our lives are changed by it; Reformed and always being reformed, as it were.

As for political correctness, that term is nearly meaningless anymore. It's too easy to vilify to carry much weight. I think, however, that what many folks characterize as political correctness is an expression of hospitality, which certainly fits within Biblical Truth.

So maybe liberal/progressive Christians can find ways to be a little more hospitable to their "closed-minded" conservative/evangelical brothers and sisters. Maybe, also, conservative/evangelical Christians can make the effort to extend hospitality to their liberal/progressive brethren who "aren't living right."

Because truly, none of us are living right. The Biblical Truth, though, tells us that God loves us anyway, and doesn't wait for us to save ourselves, and redeems us anyway. With that truth uniting us, why in the world would we let a hiring policy get in the way of how we treat those whom God loves? 

We can do better, even if we never see eye-to-eye on the theological or practical issues, we can do a better job of loving one another, and proclaiming Biblical Truth that way. We can extend hospitality to those who we see as sinners, or unrighteous, or hypocrites, or any other label. Because God's grace empowers us to do justice, they will know that we are Christians by the way we love kindness, and all of us are could stand to walk a little more humbly with our God.

13So stop judging each other. Instead, this is what you should decide: never put a stumbling block or obstacle in the way of your brother or sister. 14I know and I'm convinced in the Lord Jesus that nothing is wrong to eat in itself. But if someone thinks something is wrong to eat, it becomes wrong for that person. 15If your brother or sister is upset by your food, you are no longer walking in love. Don't let your food destroy someone for whom Christ died. 16And don't let something you consider to be good be criticized as wrong. 17God's kingdom isn't about eating food and drinking but about righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit. 18Whoever serves Christ this way pleases God and gets human approval.

Romans 14:13-17

Common English Bible (2011-06-15). CEB Common English Bible with Apocrypha (Kindle Locations 52541-52546). Abingdon Press. Kindle Edition. 

Sticks and Stones

 
Sticks and Stones from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.

I've heard it said that though it took the ten plagues to get the Israelites out of Egypt, it took the ten commandments to get Egypt out of the Israelites. Seems like God doesn't mind a little delay between when a promise is made and when the results are tangible. Living in that tension, that in-between, is really uncomfortable.

The law that the Israelites are about to receive will set them apart as God's covenant people, through whom God's promises will be enacted for all the world. The ten commandments are only a few short chapters away, promising to shape that identity. But we haven't established that covenant yet.

So far, we’ve made it out of Egypt.

But on this third Sunday in Lent, we’re still in the wilderness. For the Israelites, the promised land is barely creeping onto the horizon, a wispy image that is not yet strong enough to replace the memory of being slaves in Egypt.

And eighteen days after Ash Wednesday commissioned us on our Lenten journey, we have come to a place called Rephidim: an in-between place. Rephidim is a place in-between slavery and promise, in-between exile and home, in-between ashes and resurrection. We are still waiting for the fulfillment of God’s promises.

But we’re a post-resurrection people, we know how this ends. We've seen our ancestor's promises kept. We know that the Israelites eventually make it to the promised land. We know that eventually the people of Judah return from their exile in Babylon. We know that eventually the women will find the empty tomb. We know that the early church grows and spreads.

But where are our promises? As memberships and giving continue to decline across mainline protestant churches, as pews are emptied at the end of each worship service and are a little less full the next week, as we are confronted with a culture where the church is less dominant than we remember it being, we are held to a wispy image of the promised land, not yet strong enough to replace the memory of when we were a powerhouse in American culture. It's a promise that church will speak the language of our faith through both action and testimony, and lay claim to our identity as the body of Christ.

The sticks and stones of our own decline stand in the way of the growth that God is already working in us. We have heard the promise of a new beginning for the church, where we will take our decline and launch into our communities with renewed vigor, living differently because we know we are a post-resurrection people and we know how to enact that narrative.

But for now, there is no water to drink, and our throats are parched. So we turn to Moses and say “Give us water to drink.” Because the people Israel cannot quite make out the land of milk and honey, just as we cannot quite make out our wispy image.

They are thirsty, and there was no water for the people to drink.

To Moses: “Give us water to drink.”

Moses decides this is a good time for a theology lesson, a mistake many young pastors are bound to make. “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you try the LORD?” Remember who your God is! says Moses. Remember the wonders you saw in Egypt, plagues that broke the power of the greatest empire on this earth, miracles carried out by the one whose name is I AM! Great Theology Moses!

But the people thirsted there for water. They were perhaps less thirsty for a lecture on providence. And they grumbled against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us up from Egypt, to kill us and our children and our livestock with thirst?” Yes, we are no longer in Egypt, where the Nile would flood predictably, safely, and slowly, and would recede leaving good black soil where we could comfortably grow crops for ourselves and our children and our livestock. You say our God’s name is I am, but where is God when we are thirsty and there is no water?

Yes, we are no longer in Egypt, where we had to slave for our Egyptian rulers, but we had water there. You have told us of milk and honey but in this wilderness there are neither wells not springs, only dust and sticks…and stones.

So Moses, why did you bring us up from Egypt, to kill us and our children and our livestock with thirst?

Moses is quite understandably thrown off by the people's grumbling, to his credit, instead of fighting with them, he turns to God. "What shall I do with these people?"

Because all of God's people, including Moses, need a lesson about who God is. So God is going to show them in this in-between place. Because, so far we've made it out of Egypt, and God is moving us toward the promise, but we're still living like we belong to the place we came from, instead of the place we're going. "The whole Israelite community continued by stages as the LORD would command." The LORD issues commands that, perhaps, a travel guide might caution us against.

Such as encamping at Rephidim, where there is no water for the people to drink. Moses has a better idea than most of where they're going, he knows that God is one who maintains promises. After all, so far we've made it out of Egypt.

But in-between liberation from Egypt and consecration at Sinai, Moses doesn't have any water to give them. "What shall I do with these people? Before long they will be stoning me!" God responds to Moses playfully, turning his anxiety on its head. You're afraid of these people? "Pass before the people; take with you some of the elders." You're worried they're going to throw rocks at you? Cool. Let's go find ourselves a rock.

Isn't that just like God, to take our greatest fears and anxieties and use them to reveal something about who God is. God takes Moses's fear of being stoned to death and re-forms it into a testimony that the LORD can bring nourishing water from a lifeless stone.

The people who were would have been stoning Moses before long were afraid that they had left their predictable, consistent, safe, lives in Egypt to follow a God who was not actually with them in this wilderness. They were afraid that their lives would dry up in a wasteland without experiencing the promise of God. So God takes them to a wilderness where nothing is consistent except God’s unfailing presence in their midst.

I wonder what we're afraid of?

Maybe it's that we don't have what it takes to proclaim the gospel in a culture that is more secular and less enmeshed with our brand of Christianity. Maybe it's that our identity will die with us, and the world will just ignore where we used to be. Maybe we're afraid that we bought into the wrong promise, and have wasted our time and energy pursuing something that will never be. The promise is still there, but it's hard to see through the fear.

Maybe we're afraid of an unexpected bill. For one living on a fixed income, something as simple as car repair can be a huge burden to have to carry. These burdens are made heavier by the fact that often, those on the tightest budgets need the most expensive medical care. The promise is still there, but it's hard to see through our anxiety.

Maybe we're afraid that we'll lose our source of income. When so much of our identity is tied up in our employment, it can be traumatic to lose one's job. With the decline of industry over the last decades, the possibility of a mill or factory closing is a real concern. Not even the jobs we were told were safe are wholly reliable, as tech industries find cheaper ways to provide their goods and services, often at their workers’ expense. The promise is still there, but it's hard to see through our worry.

Maybe we're afraid that we mortgaged our future with student loans, reaching for a promise of a good job and a comfortable life. After all, my generation was told, a college graduate earns, on average, a million dollars more than a high school graduate over the course of their careers. But instead of seeing budding opportunity, we see inexhaustible debt and a job market where McDonalds receives a hundred applications for every one opening. The promise is still there, but it's hard to see how we'll ever reach it.

Maybe we're afraid that we've wandered out into the wilderness and there's no water for the people to drink. Maybe we're afraid that we should have stayed where we were, a place where we lived comfortably, even if we were still bound to other masters. It certainly would have been less worrisome to pick our own path, finding the most convenient route, regardless of where it took us. But that's not who we are, that’s not how we continue by stages as the LORD would command, and that's not how God is present among us.

God doesn't just bounce us from oasis to oasis, places where it is easy to rest, acting solely as a guide. Sometimes God leads us out into the wilderness where we will be surrounded only by sticks and stones, with none of the comforts of the home we have left behind in order to follow our God. In those places, God provides out of nothing, because sometimes we need to be reminded that God is in the barren places too.

So God sends Moses, afraid of being stoned by a thirsty people, in search of a rock. God sends the church, attached to our memories of how-it-used-to-be, into a place where our old solutions cannot answer new questions. God sends each of us, with our anxiety over the future, into a world that is beyond our ability to control. God sends us into the barren places to show us how the water to which we are accustomed is nothing next to our thirst to be in relationship with God.

Because when the water from a rock is not sufficient for our thirst, God sends a lamb, who gives us living water.

We're an in-between people, and we spend a great deal of energy each Lent to remind ourselves of that. We are already redeemed, but are not yet living in the fullness of the kingdom of God. As we wander through our own wilderness we are going to find places where there is no water for the people to drink, and we are going to ask "Is the LORD present among us or not?"

Is the LORD present in the wilderness of unpaid bills, dead end jobs, and withered relationships? Is the LORD present in a declining church with aging memberships, reduced giving, and facilities falling into disrepair? Is the LORD present in the barren places where we feel disconnected from each other and from God?

In a place like Rephidim, surrounded only by the sticks and stones which will not quench your thirst, I think it's an understandable question. But the answer is always going to be yes.

Sometimes the assurance that God is present among us sighs with relief as Moses strikes the rock and water issues from it. Sometimes the assurance that God is present among us shouts for joy at the empty tomb, where God showed us that not even death on a cross could stop God from being present among us. Sometimes the assurance that God is present among us echoes in the once-full sanctuary that is rediscovering faithfulness as a smaller, missional congregation. The LORD is present among us.

So as we pass through the barren places where the promise is only a wispy image set against the sticks and stones of our reality, barren places where God’s sense of humor plays tricks on our fears and frees us to be faithful, we know that the LORD is present among us in the barren places too.

Hashtag Feminism: A man's experience of women in ministry

Some context: I call the Presbyterian Church (USA) home, we've been ordaining women for longer than we've existed in our current form. I am firmly in favor of women in ministry, and have several female family members who are ordained. I am also (spoilers?) male.

Not too long ago, I was leading worship regularly with a community near where I attended seminary. During my time with that community, I had a number of people come up and express how grateful they were for my leadership. Every worship leader gets this kind of feedback. Here in the South, it's a politeness even if it's not offered in earnest.

What has stuck out to me in the time since is the comments that some people were particularly glad that I was a man. These well-meaning folks expressed that they still struggled with Women in Ministry.

These people were not evil, or stupid, or any of the other ways we can rationalize those who disagree with us. They had lived most of their lives under a narrative that had very strict ideas of what it meant to be a woman or a man. It was a different and difficult thing for them. They were trying to support it, and were supportive of other female leaders, but they fact that I was male meant they didn't have to work as hard to accept me.

But there are people in this world who do vehemently oppose women in ministry. They tell their sisters and daughters that church leadership is no place for a woman because she is somehow less than the men who will occupy that position.

I have a very serious issue with that line. I think it denies the sovereignty of God to call anyone God wants to whatever ministry God chooses. I also have a problem with people who judge one variety of human as being somehow "less" than another. Seems to me like I read somewhere that all fall short of the glory of God, and grace is a free gift bestowed on the undeserving.

Moreover, I've seen women be brilliant, and filled with the Holy Spirit, in their ministry. Too often, though, their vocation is filled with needless struggle.

There's the woman who sought the only form of ministry her faith tradition would recognize, only to be consistently stonewalled and ostracized. She tried to blend her calling with her tradition, and held the two in tension for as long as she could, until she felt called to find a new denominational home.

There's the woman who was the first female minister in each of the communities she has served. Each community has had someone tell her that they didn't believe in women ministers at the beginning of her mission. She is so off-the-charts talented and faithful that she flourished in each place, changing the minds of those who were distrustful of her gender.

There's the woman who avoided her call for much of her life because she had always been taught that only a man could stand in a pulpit. When she finally answered the call God has for her, she fought to have a women's bathroom installed at her seminary that wasn't adjacent to a secretary's office. She now has a doctorate, the seminary has women's bathrooms.

I've heard arguments that men are naturally better preachers; that our deeper voices carry more authority, and our larger lung capacity gives us greater volume. But I've heard women preach so powerfully it can blow the doors off a church, and send the people streaming into the world to do God's will.

I've heard people say that only men were called Apostles by Christ, that for some reason Jesus only chose men to be minister in his name. But the first people to preach the resurrection were the women who went to Christ's tomb and found it empty. They ran back saying "I have seen the LORD!"

I've heard folks cite scripture passages about women being saved through childbirth; that having lots of Christian children is the only valid expression of a woman's faith. But I've also read stories in scripture about childless women who are beloved by God, and who intervene on behalf of God's people in ways that shake empires change nations.

I could not possibly share all the stories I've heard and seen of women being faithful ministers. I've never questioned their validity. But for those who have decades of teachings, and centuries of tradition, holding them to old views, for those who still struggle with Women in Ministry: Keep struggling, because God may be speaking to you through a woman in ministry. I know God has spoken to me in that way.

Salvation and Sin (a throwback for the sake of discussion)

I wrote this several years ago as a Facebook Note (remember those?) Having taken some actual theology classes since then, there are a few thinks I say in here that I might say a little differently, but I still think this is a fair characterization of Grace-centered Calvinism (also know as actual Calvinism).

Alright, here's the thing. I come from the reformed tradition, that means I am a Theological descendant of Martin Luther, John Calvin and specifically to me as a Presbyterian, John Knox. We like the Bible, we like God, we like people.

Now on to the harder part.

I believe that people suck. A lot. At almost everything.

Nobody is capable of saving themselves. Period. Post-Fall humanity is not able to approach God in any way shape or form.

But wait, there's more...

So there's this guy Jesus, a regular guy with a few exceptions: He's the son of God, He's sinless, and he's here to re-establish that communication. He tells people to be nice to one another, pay their taxes, not to resist oppression, and to devote their lives to God.

So naturally we, as people who suck, killed him for it.

Which worked out OK in the end, because through his death AND RESURRECTION humanity was saved.

Read that last part again.

OK, now once more.

That's good. I believe that I was saved almost 2000 years ago when Jesus died and rose again from the dead. I also believe that that statement is either true or not true for everyone else on the planet. If you are among the elect, it's because of God's work, not because you said "Ok, this Jesus sounds like a cool guy, I think I'll follow him now." The action of accepting Jesus implies some ability on the part of the human to affect their own salvation. Which is not the case. We are saved by the Grace of God, once we decide that Jesus had it going on we start to live lives more according to the will of God.

Which makes life here much better. It makes our lives better as Children of God. It makes the world a better place. But does it affect our salvation?

Say it with me now...

NO!

Good. Glad we got that straight.

Does that mean I'm sinless? By no means. I sin every day. Paul said "Whenever I try to do good, evil is right there with me." He's absolutely right. All of us want to do good, all of us want to be good. All of us want to be loved.

Let's address those one at a time shall we?

Do I do good?

Sometimes, but usually not. Just by realizing I did something good for another person and patting yourself on the back you have done something not good. Way to be prideful. Next time I do something intentionally good, it will be for that rush of happiness from helping someone. Way to be selfish. Good is still done, and the other person may not realize that I'm helping them only in the process of helping yourself, it's still worth doing, but it's still not righteous.

Am I good?

No. I suck. I deserve to spend an eternity suffering in hell.

Am I loved?

ABSOLUTELY. If I'm not loved, why am I not being destroyed/already been destroyed? God loves us all more than we can possibly imagine. That's why Jesus came, because God loved me, and you, and everybody else. Quit trying to earn it, it's irritating. Be yourself with all your suckiness and try to let God have a little more control in your life.

Ok, a lot more control would be nice, but we need to start somewhere.

Everybody sins. Constantly. Anyone who says they are without sin is full of lies. The good news is you're forgiven before you've even said you're sorry. At least by God, people might hold a grudge for a while.

So I can't save myself, and I can't stop sinning, and I'm already saved, so why not just go on sinning and reaping the benefits of it?

Ah, that's the big question isn't it...

Answer: Beats the hell out of me. Go ahead, I can't stop you, God probably won't stop you. But God loves you, and I'm pretty sure you like him too and want to make him proud of you. That's why you follow Christ, that's why you do good things. It makes Father proud of you and glad he created you. Because post-resurrection, we are part of a new creation, and God can see the image of God in us, therefore we can approach God and say "sorry, I really screwed that one up," and "thanks God, I appreciate that," and even "God, was that really necessary, I didn't appreciate that very much."

So go, show God you're grateful. Give it a shot. Screw up, but do it boldly and trying to make headway for the Kingdom of God. Who knows, God might even use your hands to do God's work.

What do you think? Do you disagree with what I said here back in 2007? Is college Joseph a crazy heretic? Let me know in the comments!

A response to the Creation Debate

Last night, I watched much of the Bill Nye/Ken Ham debate on the viability of young earth creationism as a science. It was a surprisingly civil debate, and I was very grateful that it happened. I thought it may be prudent to weigh in on their discussion.

I found the opening statements of both debaters to be compelling and well organized. Neither one of them made comments that were off putting. Going into the debate, I favored Nye's evolutionary views, but kept an open mind on Ham's arguments.

The biggest problem throughout the debate seemed to be one of authority. Nye did not recognize the authority of scripture in explaining the origins of the universe. Ham, likewise, did not accept the scientific evidence as valid.

My objection was that both used scripture in an all-or-nothing mindset: either all of scripture is factual, or none of it is. I just don't think that's an accurate way of interacting with a complex library of documents, written over a long period of time by dozens of different authors.

One of the major emphases in my theological education was to consider the genre of the text one is studying. For some genres, one can assert a certain level of historical accuracy. For others, a more nuanced approach is called for. In a twist of irony, my experience is that those who rush to claim Genesis is literal are equally quick to read the Song of Solomon as an allegory.

Let me be clear: Scripture is so much more than a fact sheet. It's a complex and beautiful work of faithful people for thousands of years, both in writing down what God inspired and in transmitting it to future generations through compiling, translating, copying, and teaching. It is a unique and authoritative witness to what God has done in the world. It is powerful, compelling, and potentially transformative because God is revealed in it. But it's purpose is not to provide a list of unquestionable facts. It's purpose is to point to God.

There are several creation stories in scripture, some of them disagree on the order that things happened. But that doesn't bother me because the purpose of an origin story is not to maintain absolute facts, but to reveal the identity of the creator and the created. Genesis 1 shows a powerful God who speaks into being things that do not exist. Genesis 2 shows an intimate God who plants a garden and molds people out of clay. Job 38-41 shows a God who is active throughout all of nature. John 1 shows the presence of Christ throughout creation. Each of these says something different about God, and something about us as well.

God has given us eyes to see and minds to interpret, and the Holy Spirit is active in every time and place. Perhaps the origin story that these evidences point to is spiritually compelling because it means that God has been active for billions of years, forming the world into something new and amazing each day.

That's called creatio continua, and we studied it in my theology class. We also studied creation ex nihilo, or creation out of nothing. Neither was espoused as the "correct" view, and I don't think they're opposing. I hold to a blend of the two: God created the universe out of nothing, and continues to renew creation each moment.

As the debate went on, I was troubled that so much of Ham's arguments seemed to be thoroughly steeped in confirmation bias. Science, as I understand it, seeks to disprove theories, eliminating the impossible so that only the most accurate description remains. Creationist "science," at least as Ham presented it, was far more interested in confirming a fundamentalist and un-nuanced interpretation of the Bible than in refining its own views. That's bad science, and that's bad theology.

But, and I think think this is the most important lesson from last night's debate, People who disagree can come together for a coherent and civil discussion, without needing to change the other's mind. The exchange of ideas is valuable in and of itself. Because like creation, that kind of relational discussion tells us something about God, and about ourselves.

God talk and Gun control

The Georgia legislature is currently examining a bill to allow people to bring guns into churches and schools. This debate has been going on for a while now, in various contexts and versions. I've gone back and forth over my own position on gun control over the years. At this point, I've come to the point of few answers and one very potent question:

What does it say about God if we bring guns in the church?

I don't want to pass judgement publicly on this issue, but church people cannot pretend that we are not making a statement about God with every action we take.

A little while back, I saw a video from the Vlogbrothers in which the speaker made the claim that most people live their lives in a state of functional nihilism. Which means irrespective of belief we tend to act as if nothing really matters. I have been troubled by this claim largely because I it's truer than I'd like it to be.

What does it say about God if we bring guns in the church?

Because it definitely says something. I think it says something different to each person who engages with the question. Everyone is going to have to come up with a reason for supporting or opposing these policies, or by availing yourself of the opportunity to carry a weapon in a place of worship. I think it's a fantasy to claim that we're saying nothing by our actions. Because people are hearing us whether we think we're talking or not.

What does it say about God if we bring guns in the church?

I asked a youth that question after the church we were a part of screened a documentary on gun violence. I wasn't lobbying for a particular position or another, but I think the question is very important, and should shape our actions. We have got to examine why we act in certain ways, and what kind of belief those actions are showing. Because very few of us believe that nothing matters, so perhaps we should start acting like it.

So, internet, let's wrestle together with that question for a moment:

What does it say about God if we bring guns in the church?

Vision and Recognition

Vision and Recognition from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.

I wonder if you feel conspicuous. I wonder if you’re surrounded by the joy of this little easter we call Sunday, and don’t feel the same joy that others around you are showing. You look around you and see the trappings of worship, of love, of grace, but all you see in yourself is human depravity. It’s a great day for everyone else, the new year is off to a good start for them, but you feel, somehow, overlooked by the community that claims this sanctuary as its home. I wonder if you’ve built up an image of what you want people to see of you, so that they won’t recognize how little you match what you see around you. I wonder if your great fear is that someone will see through the image you have so carefully constructed for others. I wonder if you fear that because you worry that the image of God is so distorted in you that it is unrecognizable, even to God.

I wonder if you may be saying “Don’t look now, but I can’t find a job.” “I don’t want anyone to see, but I’m not sure if this whole "God" thing applies to me.” “Don’t show anyone that I had such a fight with my family that I can’t even concentrate on the service going on around me right now.” “I’ve got to keep up appearances, even though I’m falling apart as soon as no one is looking.” "I spent so much time trying to look, or think, or love, or believe like those around me that I don't even recognize myself anymore"

I wonder if you recognize yourself in any of these portraits. I wonder if each of us is portrayed by one of them. I wonder if our spiritual ancestors could also find themselves conspicuously displayed among these images of struggle: The old man who sees only advanced age for himself and his wife, rather than the children God had promised them; The leader who sees the Promised Land, but is not allowed to enter; The widow who mourns the loss of her sons with no way to care for her daughters-in-law; The prophet who keeps vigil as his people are carried off into bondage; The girl who becomes Queen only to have her whole people threatened by a jealous advisor; The carpenter who dreams about raising a child he did not father; The woman who looks for healing and sees only twelve years of hemorrhages; Even these heroes from scripture didn't always recognize how God's hand was at work, and yet God worked in, among, and through them nevertheless. I wonder if we could see ourselves in that story as well. I wonder if we can see ourselves in this story?

“A man named John was sent from God.” But this is a different picture of John than we may be accustomed to from reading the accounts of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. The Gospel according to John, has a rather conspicuously different portrait of John the Baptist. He is not described as a wilderness man, and we are not shown vignettes of demands for repentance and accusations of “You brood of Vipers.” John is not a harbinger of end-times judgement. He is a witness.

“The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, ‘LOOK!’” John, in this gospel, does not pass judgement or carry out sentencing, he offers his testimony that Jesus is in fact “The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” I can imagine John stretching out the long, bony, finger he is sometimes depicted with in paintings towards this ordinary looking man, identifying him as the long-looked-for Word made Flesh. That’s him! That’s the guy! “This is the one of whom I said ‘he who comes after me is really greater than me because he existed before me!’”

The thing about testimony is that it has no proof other than the conviction of the one giving it. John believes that Jesus is the Lamb of God so strongly that he offers his witness even though by his own admission, “Even I didn’t recognize him.”

It makes me wonder how many times we have seen the one we seek and not recognized him. How many Christians have devoted their lives, like John, to pointing to this person, this God, this one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit, in spite of not being able to recognize him. How many times has Jesus the Christ been the overlooked one? John is here as a witness with one job: He came to testify concerning the Light of the World. Yet he confesses "Even I didn't recognize him." But the Lamb of God has come nevertheless. Even I didn't recognize him, but the Spirit descended on him like a dove nevertheless. Even I didn't recognize him, but he is the anointed one nevertheless. Once he finally recognizes Jesus, he keeps pointing to him, even into the next day.

“The next day, John was again standing with two of his disciples. When he saw Jesus walking along he said, “Look! The Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard what he said, and they followed Jesus.” I don’t know what the difference between yesterday’s “Look” and today’s “Look” was, but this time the two disciples recognized the urgency in John's voice. This time they heard and recognized the importance of his message. "Look! The Lamb of God!"

The "Lamb of God" image that the disciples see when John points to this man Jesus carries visions of liberation from bondage in Egypt. A Lamb was offered at Passover, not to wipe away sin but as a reminder that God brings us out of Egypt, where we were slaves. So in the same manner as the Israelites followed Moses out of the house of Pharaoh, these two disciples of John walk behind Jesus with no vision of where their steps will lead them, and with no recognition beyond John's recommendation.

Then Jesus turns around and asks them a question: "What are you looking for?"

This question hits me right in my center. Because I don't know that I have a satisfactory answer. I know the "right" answer, "I'm looking for a way to glorify God and enjoy him forever." I just don't know if I'm really searching for something so lofty. These disciples have been following Jesus for a few minutes when he turns on his heel, looks them squarely in the face and confronts them with a question to which I don't have a really good answer. If Jesus connected with you in the same eye-to-eye fashion that faced these disciples, could you trust him with the search you don't show anyone?

“Don’t look now, but I can’t find a job.” “I don’t want anyone to see, but I’m not sure if this whole "God" thing applies to me.” “Don’t show anyone that I had such a fight with my family that I can’t even concentrate on the service going on around me right now.” “I’ve got to keep up appearances, even though I’m falling apart as soon as no one is looking.” "I spent so much time trying to look, or think, or love, or believe like those around me that I don't even recognize myself anymore"

I wonder what we would say to Jesus when he asks us "What are you looking for?" I can promise you that my answer would be just as ham-handed and stammering as the disciples' awkward response "Rabbi, where are you staying?" What are you looking for a hotel room? This guy is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! You want to know his lodging situation? That's only about two steps up from grabbing whatever is nearby and saying "Oh, just this, I've found it now, I think I'll be going back into hiding now." Jesus's "What are you looking for" maybe makes us feel more conspicuous than we'd ever let anyone see. The light that shines in the darkness, you know, recognizes you when you're staring him in the face. And if you've never had that light enter your field of vision before, it'll take you back a step. Even they didn't recognize him, but the presence of God compelled them to follow him nevertheless.

Because the one who can't find a job isn't just looking for a paycheck. They're looking for a way to participate in their own household so that they can know they are valued and not resented for always needing to be cared for.

Because the one who isn't sure if they have a part of this God thing isn't looking for an easy answer. They're looking for a narrative that fits with what they've seen, and the answers others have given them are not sufficient for their experience. It's difficult to love a God when you can never recognize him.

Because the one who is not fully present due to a recent fight isn't looking for a solution to their argument. They're looking for a community where it is safe to be struggling with imperfection.

Because the one who hides their thoughts and looks and beliefs and loves isn't looking for a way to meet expectations. They're looking for the assurance that they are loved for who they are regardless of any criteria.

Jesus recognizes that in the two men who followed him. He recognises that they don’t have the vision for what this passover lamb can mean for them. They’re looking for the wholeness they can only get from God, but their vision is distorted by their bondage to sin. So when their answer about what they’re looking for is meaningless, he offers them a new viewpoint, where they can see what God has in store for the whole of creation firsthand, and testify to others. “Come and see.”

Come and see what true humanity looks like. Come and see what liberation from what holds you back looks like. Come and see what service to the God who creates, redeems, and sustains you looks like. Come and see that the darkness cannot overcome the light.

Come and see grace that frees you from your shame and guilt. Come and see a community guided by a commandment to Love one another in spite of our brokenness. Come and see love that will not let you go no matter how you love, what you believe, how you look, or what you think. Come and see that God has called you by name and is deeper than the easy answers. Come and see that God has given you gifts to be expressed in the world with gratitude, even if they don’t come with a paycheck. Come and see what it is you’re looking for, even if you don’t recognize it at first.

After an afternoon with this new kind of teacher, Andrew has to go tell his brother what has happened. We have no indication what Simon Peter was looking for. But he’s just as human as the rest of us, so I can say with confidence that he was looking for something. Andrew, his brother, tells him what he’s found when he was didn’t even have the vision to know what he was looking for. “We have found the Messiah,” he tells his brother. John’s testimony of “Look! The Lamb of God!” was enough for Andrew to look closer, and to find his own image of who Jesus is. Andrew’s testimony of “We have found the Messiah!” was enough to capture Simon Peter’s attention. Once he has been led to Jesus, Jesus looks at him and recognizes him in the same way that he recognized that the other two disciples needed to be invited to come and see.

Jesus recognizes us where we are, and knows that we don’t know more than a portion of what we’re looking for, sometimes we don’t even know that we’ve been looking. Our vision is still distorted by sin, so much that we cannot always recognize that the Lamb of God is in our midst, a reminder of the unapologetic ferocity of God’s love for us. We coat ourselves with images of what we ought to be and expect others to see us the way we wish we were.

But God recognizes us in spite of all that meaningless posturing, recognizes us as his children, recognizes us as those whom he has set free from the shadows in which we try to hide ourselves. God sees through the mask and invites us to take it off and live as one transformed by grace. We have seen God’s unwavering work in the world, even if we haven’t recognized it. We don’t have to know what we’re looking for, but when we do recognize it, all we have to do is point and say “Look!” And when we cannot even muster the faith to conspicuously point to God, which is going to be a lot of the time, Jesus still calls to us with a promise of the greatness of God. “Come and See.”

In the end, I have every confidence that we will all be able to say “We have found the Messiah.” But only because Jesus the Christ found us first.

Even I didn't recognize him, but the light shines in the darkness nevertheless.

Even I didn't recognize him, but the Lamb of God takes away the sin of the world nevertheless.

Even I didn't recognize him, but he came and baptized us with the Holy Spirit nevertheless.

Even I didn't recognize him, but he went to the cross to deliver me from the bondage of sin nevertheless.

Come and see what the new life we have in a resurrected Christ looks like, and you may recognize the living God in your midst. But even if you do not recognize him, God is at work in you, for you, and through you nevertheless.