Monday, August 6, 2012


And they answered Him saying . . .


Imitatio Dei, or, "What would Jesus do?" This is a question intended to remind those who would profess Christianity as being their mainstay to always seek direction from the illustrated life of Jesus Christ by visualizing an assumed response that He would likely have to any given situation which may challenge the path of obedient discipleship.
What can we learn from the life of Christ and what He did? Do we, indeed, emulate those things which He demonstrated? Many among us often believe we do.  Then again, perhaps it is nothing more than pride and haughty condescension that leads us to think we do, or even could.   While seeking such aspiring guidance, what is the qualifying criterion for the answers received and subsequent actions which follow? Do we clothe the Master from His nakedness, or quench His parched lips with our conduct?  Do we satisfy His hunger through our obedient acts of righteousness expressed through exploits of sacrificial love and kindness?   We need to place a finger upon the collective pulse of Christianity and assess the validity of the life we allege it contains.  Is the heartbeat of the body of Christ racing from vigorous, challenging exercise driven by the Father’s passion?  Or is it indistinct from being fused and confused with the rhythm of political, cultural, religious, personal, or a myriad of other agendas which tend to gum up the turnpike of spiritual journeys?  I believe the Church today has lost her identity.  This did not happen on the main stage preceded with booming announcements of imminent peril, nor did it happen overnight.  Rather, it was ushered in by the slow moving currents of subtle deceptions and distractions strategically placed within our numbers with the enlisted intent of diverting our energy and attention away from what really matters.   We have been hijacked and kidnapped; our garments ripped from our apathetic body as we lie gagged and enchained before our enemy and the world.  Does that seem harsh? 
There is a cry that is being heard by many today.  It comes from the book of Revelation and delivers the following message:
“After these things I saw another angel coming down from Heaven, having great authority and the earth was illuminated with his glory.  And he cried mightily with a loud voice, saying ‘Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and has become a habitation of demons, a prison for every foul spirit and a cage for every unclean and hated bird.’  And I heard another voice from heaven saying, ‘come out of her, my people, lest you share in her sins, and lest you receive of her plagues.  For her sins have reached to heaven, and God has remembered her iniquities’” (Rev. 18:1-2, 4-5). 
Who is Babylon the Great?   I don’t intend on solving the mystery of her identification here.  However, there is one particular characteristic that convicts me to the core:
-        The world is intoxicated by her wine and adulteries (Rev. 18:3)
We, as the people of God, have prostituted ourselves on many things.  We have a form of Godliness but deny the power thereof.  How do we do this?  I believe the answers are best found by answering another question first: “What do we spend most of our time doing?”  In all honesty I find myself “intoxicated” by the wine, or fruit, of my labor.  The materialism I find myself wrapped up in has the intoxicating effect of a fine wine; the more I have the more I want.  Our culture breeds affluence; if you say you are free from her clutch I would counsel you to have another look.  As far as adultery goes there are more directions to go than I have time to write, or you to read.  One area I often overlook is my insatiable drive to seek counsel from everyone and everything before I first seek the face of God for His.  Here is a question worth pondering:  “Can I, as a Christian, birth and develop an original thought devoid of influential input from Fox News, CNN, Hollywood, the Republican party, Democratic party, or any other public forum or celebrity bonehead?  I have thoroughly submerged myself in the intoxicating wines and adulteries time and time again.  I have let myself be convinced and convicted on the merits of what is right, what is wrong, what things are worthy of my attention and what things aren’t solely based on the sway of reigning popular thought.  Some issues are valid; my response to them, many times, are not! The issue is not about being right or wrong; it’s about servant-hood and whether or not I choose to serve.  The truth of the matter is I am restrained from contemplating the things of God for all of the polluted jargon that has taken residence, by my own invitation and acceptance, within the secret place reserved for communion with God.  I am the temple of God; my mind – the holy of holies.  I have draped it with rancor and furnished it with articles used for harlotry!  What should I do about that?  
Did the “show of support” for Chick-fil-A further the Kingdom of God, or did it throw barrels of fuel on an already burning fire of hatred and division?  I am summoned by the lyrics penned by Casting Crowns in the song entitled “Friend of Sinners”: “Open our eyes to the world at the end of our pointing fingers . . . Nobody knows what we’re for, only what we’re against when we judge the wounded.  What if we put down our signs, crossed over the lines and loved like [Jesus] did?”
It’s my opinion that activities such as this are no more than self-detonated blows numbed by the “intoxicating wine.”   Jesus once said that the gates of Hades would not prevail against the church.  I wonder if the church can defeat Herself?  I find it hard to believe that Jesus would cast his shadow from a line of protest upon a people group condemning them by way of passive-aggressive demonstration.  I’m more akin to believe that he would dine with them and love them, affording them the opportunity to discover the beauty of who he is through personal, experiential and intimate exchange rather than publicly denounce them while demanding political  policy to strip them of their inalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Since Jesus is the foundation of our religious constitution, perhaps it would benefit us to examine His words.  “The most important [life] command is this: ‘The Lord your God is the one and only Lord.  You must love Him with all of your heart, with all of your soul, with all of your mind and with all of your strength.  The second is equally important – love your neighbor as yourself! (Mark 12:30-31, emphasis mine).  It seems to me that the “gospel” according to Jesus is one which encompasses two primary components: 1. There must be an unfettered freedom to love God completely.  This is the single most important ingredient in life’s empirical journey.  If I do not possess this one thing, nothing else matters!  2.  An unfettered determination to love others in the same way, and with the same intensity that I love myself.  This was the model that Jesus illustrated throughout His life.  He loved others and accepted them where they were and as they were in a socially unselfish way without demanding reciprocity, so much so that it infuriated the religious elite.  For us to fall short of this standard which Jesus Himself inaugurated only confirms and reveals our own subjective, self-centered condition which is bent on recognition and self-righteous gain within the cisterns of our own creation which aren’t good for anything more than holding our own refuse.
True spiritual activism can only be found within the borders of “I was hungry and you fed Me.  I was thirsty and you gave me water.  I was naked and you clothed me.”   Standing in lines in support of one person’s statement of faith may, indeed, provide us with the feeling of solidarity amongst ourselves.  But it will never breach the lines of separation extending any offerings of hope, acceptance or unity to those who are in dire need of them.
Spiritual leadership is often unrecognizable in that it often comes clothed as a pauper, not a King; a servant rather than a master.  What would Jesus do?  Perhaps the answer will continue to evade our capture until we learn what it is to give our lives away.  Perhaps it is safeguarded among “the least of these” (Mt. 25:40).