Followers of Jesus: Who Have We Become?

I listened to her story. It was so heartbreaking. It grieved me. Immensely! 

How could someone survive so much trauma, so much pain, and so much rejection? 

Crystal was homeless when we first met. As a beautiful trans woman, her journey was and continues to be, riddled with so much agony and suffering. Tearfully, she shares snippets of her story, from that youngster cast out of her home and left to fend for herself, to the abuse and suicide attempts and arrests that have followed her relentlessly, to the black eyes she tries her best to disguise today, I marvel at her resiliency. Her scars reveal a life that should only show up in nightmares. My grief is coupled with anger as Crystal reveals that much (not all) of her displacement, rejection, and abuse has been done by the hands of those who claim to follow and be disciples of Jesus. Because of their thuggery, she believes the Almighty God is also a displacing, rejecting, and abusive thug that wants no part of her. 

Christians, I struggle to understand, I don't understand...

Two middle-aged guys came into my office one day, secretly and separately. They were full of remorse, full of fear, full of hopelessness. They were friends who felt trapped by their unique but similar journeys of incarceration, gang affiliation, alcoholism, drug abuse, violence, and homelessness. On this particular day, they were scared, scared of the God of all power, scared of the angry God who knew them inside out, scared of that angry God who wanted to cast them into hell because of the lives they lived, scared because they were convinced that they were too evil and had done too much. The gospel was not good news for them. The words they often heard from evangelists and preachers let them know how dirty and despicable they were. They both believed Jesus died and rose from the grave, they continually begged God for forgiveness and mercy, and even though they believed in the redemptive power of God to set people free, they were both absolutely and utterly convinced God would never gift them. To them, they were too dirty and despicable. To them, they could never be scrubbed clean. They struggled to believe the cross had the power to rescue sinners like them. To them, I was worthy, but they were not or could ever be! 

Christians, I struggle to understand, I don't understand...

I grieve, again and again, as I hear story after story after story of people being traumatized by those who claim to follow the Prince of Peace. These stories are regular. These stories are depressing, especially among the poor and oppressed. In struggling to understand, these stories make me ask, "are we not supposed to be bearers of the gospel? Are we not meant to bring Good News? Are we not supposed to love our neighbours and be peacemakers?" 

But instead, we are viewed as this power-hungry force of judgmental hate and exclusive behaviour.

We are viewed as this terrifying group who seem to get more pleasure in pushing people into the gutter than pulling them out! 

We are viewed as this exclusive clique that only allows people in if they abide by our strict rules. 

We are viewed as a racist bunch of elitists, as justifiers and promoters of a system that continues to oppress

We are viewed as a violent group of aggressive war-mongers, as justifiers and promoters of colonization, occupations, and slavery.

We are viewed as enforcers of law and order, as justifiers and promoters of all that mass incarceration and a police-state encompasses

We are viewed as a movement that will do anything, will compromise all morals and ethics, just to gain political power and control.

We are viewed as idolators who love their money, who relentlessly worship it, and will do anything to get more of it.

We are viewed as violent, dangerous, dominant, and a threat to the other, to those who are different, to those on the fringes, all while trying to become even more powerful and controlling.

We are viewed as people who elevate the elite while stomping on the poor and the weak. 

We are viewed as a collective that does all these atrocities while simultaneously hearing us loudly and boldly proclaim that because we follow Christ, we take the grand prize of being the most loving, just, compassionate, and accepting people in the world.

This reality is depressing. Extremely depressing. Gut-wrenching depressing. I understand how we got this way. I understand why people view us this way. I understand why our name is tainted and how we have stained the name and reputation of Jesus. It is a reasonable and justifiable judgment on us, as countries are bombed in the Name of God, people are incarcerated, executed, and enslaved through interpretations of scripture, and marginalized groups are even more ostracized and excommunicated in the name of Jesus. I mourn over how we have become known as a religion of hate and exclusion, yet what I really struggle to understand is why so many Christ-followers double down on these beliefs, despite knowing Jesus said and did the exact opposite. 

Before I continue, I want to make something abundantly clear: I am honoured to know and journey with tons of Jesus-followers in both Chicago and Auckland, who are hospitable, loving, humble peacemakers. I also know the world is full of compassionate people who have dedicated their lives to embracing the good news and fighting against oppression. I have walked and continue to walk alongside many fantastic beautiful saints who change the trajectory and perceptions through small loving acts of love and mercy. I am surrounded by those who have sacrificed their income and status for the sake of others, they have gone into Cook County Jail, fed the poor under viaducts, made mats out of plastic bags for those sleeping on the streets, and provided shelter for those who are homeless, comforted the lonely and depressed, marched in the streets for the oppressed, and visited the sick and dying in hospitals and nursing homes. I am surrounded by beauty, the beauty of those who imitate the One who gave up his status for the sake of helping and liberating others. 

My struggle is that in too many spaces, the good is being overpowered and drowned out by the loud sexist, homophobic, transphobic, racist, dominating voices who scream out this seductive political rhetoric of hate. These voices, these loud obnoxious voices, these bullies, these gangsters, are dominating our narrative and making Jesus look like just another callous thug who exploits and dominates those who do not fit in. The shouting is so loud that the good being done can look like the exception and not the norm. 

I repeat: It is agonizing for someone (like myself) who follows Jesus that we are being portrayed this way. Jesus is being presented, and represented, as a nepotistic bully who excludes whoever he views as outsiders while pursuing political and financial gain. In the light of these perceptions, it leaves me wondering how we disprove this and show people who Jesus really is and what following Christ truly means. 

Now to get a little personal. I am a middle-aged white fella who chose relative poverty by living in an intentional community and working among those experiencing homelessness. Despite choosing to sacrifice certain luxuries (while simultaneously gaining plenty), I fully understand that I possess much power and privilege. My presence, my look, my ability to choose, and my manhood does not represent goodness and salvation to most, but rather my body represents the violence of oppression, colonization, elitism, and white supremacy. 

I am highly aware of people's first impressions of me, so in love and humility, I have to be wary of who I'm perceived to be and work hard to smash those barriers. It is essential to recognize how our presence, alone, carries great power. It causes trauma. It causes fear. It causes grief. It triggers memories people wish to flush away, but we remain. We keep on reappearing like an awful nightmare.

To some, to many, my body represents someone who abuses their authority, as someone who views certain people as subhuman, as someone who will do whatever I want, whenever I want, to whom I want, and how I want, despite however harsh the consequences may be on others. This reality shatters me because I do not want to be perceived this way. Unfortunately, with my white male body comes generations of colonization, patriarchy, and thuggery, which is reflected in me. 

• To some, to many, my body represents those prison guards who erased their personhood and dignity by tossing them in the "hole", verbally abusing them, and purposefully withholding things from them "just for the hell of it".  
• To some, to many, my body represents those "partners", those "lovers", who erased their personhood and dignity by calling them names, locking them out of their house, and slapping the crap out of them.
• To some, to many, my body represents those religious zealots and family members who erased their personhood and dignity by denying their gender or sexuality, trying to change them, refusing to use their preferred pronouns, and callously casting them out. 
• To some, to many, my body represents those in law enforcement who erased their personhood and dignity by pulling them over, frisking them, cuffing them, arresting them, and causing them to "do time". 
• To some, to many, my body represents those landlords who erased their personhood and dignity by refusing to fix what's broken, by tossing them out onto the street with all their belongings, leaving them alone and homeless. 
• To some, to many, my body represents those shelter workers who erased their personhood and dignity by using their privilege and power to bully and threaten, all while pretending to care.
• To some, to many, my body represents those community members who label themselves "positive loiterers", who erase their personhood and dignity by arrogantly standing there with cell phones in hand calling 911 on those they perceive as threats and criminals. 

You get it, or you should. It is what it is, our bodies are often seen as threats, as dangerous, as oppressive. This reality may cause you to scream, "HEY! That's not fair! I'm not like that! Why should I be judged for the sins of slave owners, colonizing missionaries, power-hungry politicians, sex-crazed preachers, or those slick shysters' who pretend to love you while using their power to work against you? Why should I walk around on eggshells because of them?" 

To that, I say, we walk on eggshells because that is what love chooses, and maybe, just maybe, when Paul encouraged us to become "all things to all people", he's suggesting we walk on eggshells when our presence has the potential to trigger so much trauma and fear. By "eggshells", I'm not saying we should go into a situation with timidity, but with "power, love, and self-control", being highly aware of who we are and who we are visiting with, so we can enter their space humbly and compassionately, making sure we don't crush them. By "eggshells", I'm suggesting we put others before ourselves.

I want to close this by encouraging us to not be controlled by the stigma, but rather, to use our privilege and power for the Kingdom of Heaven, which means living our lives for others, most importantly, for those Jesus called the "least of these". I want to close by suggesting a few ways, soaked with love, which I believe Jesus endorsed and lived out. He didn't just give us an awe-inspiring example to just marvel at, but he called those who follow him to learn from his self-sacrificing life and DO likewise. 

When we choose to serve, and not be served, we change the trajectory. When we decide to pull people out of the gutter, we change the trajectory. When we decide to include others, listen to others, and embrace their differences, we change the trajectory. When we choose to invite those marginalized and ostracized into our circles, when we say “you lead”, we change the trajectory. When we decide to challenge systemic racism and not be controlled by white supremacy, we change the trajectory. When we choose to give, to make sacrifices, we change the trajectory. When we choose compassion and peacemaking, we change the trajectory.

The gospel is offensive. Highly offensive. It offends those who lust after money and power. It takes courage to choose this life of love. We will receive hate and opposition from those who are offended by the power of the gospel. I have seen it, I have experienced it, just by feeding the hungry, sitting with those living in tents, visiting prisoners, and housing those experiencing homelessness. When we are courageous enough, we change the trajectory, ripple by ripple. Through word of mouth, through our actions, through our reputations, those who were once offended, once abused, once rejected, tell others of a different kind of Jesus follower. Through our witness, the portrayed thug who desires to rule and dominate fades away, as the humble servant who chilled with tax-collectors, prostitutes, and the "Samaritan woman at the well" becomes more visible.

Christians, what I DO understand is this; when we love as Jesus loves, when we "act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God", the Gospel has the power to change and impact this world for the good and name of Jesus is glorified. 

Even though the 2 friends were absolutely convinced that they were unforgivable and speeding down the "fast track to hell", I was able to share with them how the rhetoric they had heard was false. Our God doesn’t despise them but loves them dearly. Our God wants to forgive, he desires to set them free. I told them about the parable of "the pharisee and the tax-collector", and how Jesus proclaimed that the humble tax-collector, who thought he was unforgivable, went home righteous before God. Their humble prayers were by no means hopeless cries that vanished in the air, but words that made it to the loving ears of the One who comes to us in our weakness. I pray that our actions of feeding, clothing, and sheltering these 2 over the years, along with this particular fragile attempt of representing Jesus with my words changed the trajectory. I pray they continue to see God, not as a callous thug, not as an angry vengeful bully, but as the liberating God who lovingly frees us. 

Crystal is now housed. She hasn't escaped all the hate, but her view of Christians, of Jesus, has changed. Because of those who took her in, advocated for her, visited her, helped her find a place, and gave her gifts, the hopelessness that overpowered her is dissipating. Hope has been found. Hope has been resurrected. This is the power of the gospel. This is the good news! She experienced love in action, and she, in turn, is a compassionate loving neighbour to those around her. It's beautiful to see her smiling face. It's beautiful to know she has people to turn to. It's beautiful to know that she knows she is loved and accepted and embraced by God. 

Our seemingly mediocre acts of courageous love can change the trajectory. They will change the trajectory. They will continue to change the trajectory. Just as yeast spreads throughout the dough, making a delicious loaf of bread, our words, our deeds, our love, our acceptance, our embrace, and our lives can spread throughout and impact our communities, changing the rhetoric, changing the negativity, and revealing the One who chose to use his power, privilege, and status to bring us equality, salvation, and liberation.