Homeless: An Essay on the Ecclesial Lives of Young Adults from the Churches of Christ

I have met dozens of young adults (20-35 years old) over the last several years who grew up in the churches of Christ but no longer attend one. I’ve met dozens of others who still attend a church of Christ, at least somewhat regularly, who feel that such a church is no longer the ideal place for them but know of nowhere else to go. I am primarily concerned in this essay with the latter though I will make some reference to the former. These still-attending-but-uncomfortable CoCers are uncomfortable in the churches of their youth for a variety of reasons, the most common of which are:

1. A rejection of the teaching that the only Christians can be found in “the one true Church,” namely the churches of Christ. These young adults, either through their own theological reflection or interaction with Christians not in the CoC, have come to discern that God’s work and people is much bigger than the few million people who attend CoCs around the world. Thus, hearing sermons and attending Bible studies where their friends, who often display the spirit of Christ in ways they haven’t experienced in their own church, are condemned to hell are moments that scream to them “you and those like you aren’t welcome here.”

2. A rejection of what they interpret as an overbearing legalism in the CoC. For example, they find the arguments about the use of instruments in worship, or more recently “praise teams,” to be narrow-minded and intended to exclude people from God’s church more than to be faithful to God’s will.

3. A dissatisfaction with the teaching and ministries in many CoCs. These young adults feel that church curriculum is either geared toward youth, married couples with children, or the elderly, and that they are, therefore, implicitly excluded from the work of the church. In addition, they find the focus of CoC ministries so overwhelmingly centered around Bible study that they feel the CoC is all “talk” and no “walk.” They often yearn to find a CoC with thriving service and justice ministries that engage their community in an intimate and helpful way.

4. A discomfort or rejection of the ways that many CoCs are explicitly or implicitly aligned with the conservative political movement in the United States. These young adults are either politically progressive or liberal or are simply uncomfortable with the political zealousness of the leaders in many congregations. They don’t recognize an easy alliance between the Christian faith and conservative politics (or any political parties/ideologies at all). If they don’t identify as conservative but believe the ethos of the church is one where faithfulness = conservativeness they intuit that they are unwelcome.

5. A desire for racial and cultural diversity that is sorely lacking in the CoCs they know. CoCs tend to be rather homogenous and segregated. Young adults today, especially those who grew up in/live in metro areas, experience diversity at school, work, and at play. They simply don’t understand how the church can still be so segregated and, quite frankly, feel uncomfortable about it and feel that it is a sign that something must be wrong.

However, these young adults also love the CoC. No, they really do. They appreciate the ways they were taught the Bible as a child (and know it much better than their friends who grew up in a different church tradition). They have fond memories of church potlucks, retreats, and camps (especially in youth group). They actually prefer acappella worship to singing with a praise band. They love the relationships they have forged with fellow CoC members. These young adults are CoC through-and-through and don’t want to be any other way.

Except they feel as if they have no other choice, but they don’t know which choice of other church to make. And so they remain. Uncomfortable. Unfulfilled. And gradually losing the vitality of their faith.

Often young adults who feel this way make their way to an American evangelical-type church. This makes sense for a lot of reasons. The main ones being their congregational nature and their emphasis on individual reading of scripture, without the same ethos of exclusion and legalism. (There’s also the distance from the rest of the Christian tradition that CoCs and evangelicals share.) Such young adults often make their way to some local megachurch or community church and feel like they’ve found a place familiar enough to be comfortable but different enough to have made a real change.

“Homeless” young adults haven’t made such a drastic move, or are uncomfortable with having done so, and still feel some sense of loyalty to the CoC. However, they often know that if they don’t live in a select few major cities (Atlanta, Austin, Dallas, etc.) or near a flagship CoC university (Pepperdine, ACU, Lipscomb) they won’t ever find a CoC in which they can feel comfortable.

And so they float from church to church never making a deep commitment to a place. Clearly, this is problematic for a number of reasons. As much as Americans want to think otherwise, the vast majority people cannot have a thriving and healthy spiritual life outside the regular fellowship with and deep commitment to a community of believers.

Some of these young adults are lost to the CoC; our churches failed them. They found another home. However, many are still “homeless.” And if you, ________ Church of Christ, hope to keep them off the spiritual streets you must address the concerns listed above or a significant portion of an entire generation will be lost to you. You must move beyond exclusion, legalism, the religious right, and the cultural homogeneity of your congregational life.

And to the homeless CoC young adults I’ve been writing about, I encourage you not to give up on those people who loved you, formed you, and introduced you to Christ (at least not with haste). No, they are not perfect, but neither is any other church. And please think long and hard before becoming an evangelical. Believe it or not, they can be just as legalistic and exclusionary; they have often acquiesced even more to the not-so-laudable aspects of American culture than the American-bred CoCs you know; they are just as committed to right-wing politics; and they can be just as racially and culturally homogenous. On top of that, they have often abandoned those things the CoC got right; namely, a love of and commitment to baptism and the Lord’s Supper, a desire to read scripture as more than just a feel-good devotional book, and a robust commitment to and theology of “the Church.” If you have made the decision to “go evangelical” I do not begrudge you, but if you haven’t yet and are considering it I encourage you to do so only with deep discernment. [And believe it or not (and I know we were taught not to), going to one of the "denominations" rather than an evangelical church might feel more like home (once you get used to the liturgy). Most of them do practice baptism and the Lord's Supper, after all.]

Finally, if you are “homeless” and can’t find a home in a CoC don’t give up on church altogether. Go somewhere else. God will meet you there even if those you love in the CoC of your youth won’t. And it may be home.

Thinking Theologically about Social Media

The New Media Project at Union Theological Seminary in the City of New York is pleased to announce the publication of six theological essays and four sets of recommendations about using social media in ministerial, congregational, and institutional settings. Together the material—located under the Findings tab on the project website —provides a one-of-a-kind resource for religious leaders seeking to interpret new media in creative and theological ways.

This looks quite interesting and includes essays from friends and colleagues, including Monica Coleman and Lerone Martin.

See the announcement and links to essays here.

Introducing Religion Matters

Last night I posted an entry announcing the publication of the newest issue of Practical Matters. I have worked with Practical Matters for two years now and am proud to be affiliated with such a groundbreaking journal. In pushing the boundaries of traditional scholarship in religious and theological studies into the world of digital humanities, and providing one of the only places for an explicit conversation between scholars of religious practices and practical theologians, it is one of the most dynamic places for new and interdisciplinary scholarship in these fields to emerge.

Well, to continue pushing the boundaries of scholarship and linking scholars with practitioners Practical Matters has launched a new blog to coincide with the scholarly work of the journal. The blog is titled Religion Matters. The launch of the blog coincides with the launch of the new issue, and the first post is from John Senior of Wake Forest University School of Divinity, the ethicist who interviewed Stanley Hauerwas for this issue of the journal. In this post, Senior finds places of agreement and disagreement over the thesis of Hauerwas’s new book in the public rhetoric of the Obama administration in reference to the killing of Osama Bin Laden.

This post represents the beginning of an exciting new blog for those interested in the ways that religion actually functions in the world and how that knowledge informs and is informed by practical theology. I encourage you to follow the blog, add your comments, and join the conversation!

What Does It Mean to Take the Lord’s Supper in an Unworthy Manner?

I grew up in and remain a member of the churches of Christ. This means many things, but one thing it surely means is that I have participated in the commemoration of the Lord’s Supper many more weekends than not. And nearly every single commemoration of the Lord’s Supper I’ve been a part of has included a scriptural exhortation prior to taking the bread and “fruit of the vine.”

Well, there’s only a few passages in scripture that address the “how-to” of the Lord’s Supper, so I’ve heard each of those passages more times than I can count. One of those passages is found in 1 Corinthians 11. Technically, verses 17 – 34 deal with the practice of the Lord’s Supper, but more often than not exhorters begin their reading at verse 23. Below is the full quote from the New Revised Standard Version:

17 Now in the following instructions I do not commend you, because when you come together it is not for the better but for the worse. 18 For, to begin with, when you come together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you; and to some extent I believe it. 19 Indeed, there have to be factions among you, for only so will it become clear who among you are genuine. 20 When you come together, it is not really to eat the Lord’s supper. 21 For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk. 22 What! Do you not have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What should I say to you? Should I commend you? In this matter I do not commend you!

23 For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, 24 and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” 25 In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” 26 For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

27 Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. 28 Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. 29 For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves. 30 For this reason many of you are weak and ill, and some have died. 31 But if we judged ourselves, we would not be judged. 32 But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world.

33 So then, my brothers and sisters, when you come together to eat, wait for one another. 34 If you are hungry, eat at home, so that when you come together, it will not be for your condemnation. About the other things I will give instructions when I come.

Usually, I have been extolled to examine my personal life over the last week before partaking of the Lord’s Supper so that I don’t “eat and drink judgment” upon myself. I have understood this to mean saying a quick prayer of confession and a plea for forgiveness. In addition, I have been encouraged to reflect on Jesus hanging on the cross so that I “discern the body.” It’s for this reason that if you walk into nearly any Church of Christ on any Sunday you’ll find a bunch of people with heads bowed quietly reflecting before taking a small piece of cracker and a thimbleful of grape juice. The way that we practice the Lord’s Supper is, in my opinion, indicative of some overwhelmingly Evangelical tendencies that have crept into the liturgical life of churches of Christ. Namely, we have embraced wholeheartedly the Evangelical emphases of a strong individualism most aptly summed up in the phrase “a personal relationship with Jesus,” and an overwhelming emphasis on the physical suffering of Jesus on the cross as the means of salvation to the detriment of several other important elements of the Passion story.

Now, I don’t think that these things are necessarily bad things to do. In fact, I have found them meaningful spiritual practices in the past. However, this is decidedly not the message of Paul in 1 Corinthians 11.

Remember, Paul began his comments to the Corinthian church on the topic of the Lord’s Supper by giving them a harsh scolding. Paul is quite upset about how they practice the Lord’s Supper. First, the church is divided, apparently by class. For it appears that during the Lord’s Supper – which was a part of an actual meal, sometimes referred to as a “Love Feast,” in the earliest church – some were getting more food and wine than others. In fact, some were drinking so much wine that they were getting drunk! And others were leaving a “church potluck” hungry! And, based on Paul’s statement that “each of you goes ahead with your own supper,” it may be that the more well-off folks were keeping the food they brought to themselves and thus excluding those who had less to bring from having enough to eat.

This is the context in which Paul warned against taking the Lord’s Supper in an “unworthy manner.” It appears that taking the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner is to take it in such a way as to divide a church based upon people’s material means. In addition, to take the Lord’s Supper “without discerning the body” doesn’t mean to take it without reflecting on Jesus hanging on a cross. Rather, it’s to reflect on the body of Christ. In other words, the church and the bread and wine, which Paul reminds us is “the body and blood of Christ,” to be distributed to that church. (Remember, the very next chapter, is where Paul describes the Church as “the body of Christ.” Why would he be talking about the physical body of Christ here and the church as the body only a few verses later?) Putting these things together we can surmise that, to eat “without discerning the body of Christ” is to eat without reflecting upon the distribution of food and other such things within a specific congregation.

In participating in the Lord’s Supper we are embodying, for one brief moment, God’s Kingdom where all have enough and people are not treated differently based on class or status. We are embodying, imperfectly as it may be, the Kingdom in which first is last, least is greatest, and all are servants of all. To be a church divided, in this most important part of a Sunday worship service, based upon earthly distinctions is to “eat the bread and drink the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner.”

We know there were other early churches divided by class. For instance, James condemns another church for how people sit during worship (James 2:1-7):

1 My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? 2 For if a person with gold rings and in fine comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, 3 and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Have a seat here, please,” while to the one who is poor you say, “Stand there,” or, “Sit at my feet,” 4 have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? 5 Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? 6 But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? 7 Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you?

Clearly, this was an issue in the early church. Jesus inaugurated God’s Kingdom – a kingdom where all have a place at the table, but the earliest Christians began arguing over the best seats or even excluding people from their place at that table. For Paul, this was to violate the sanctity of a sacred ritual.

It is important for contemporary Christians to remember this. The Lord’s Supper, otherwise known as Communion, is primarily a communal practice that imparts grace and is intended to embody, in the here and now, God’s coming kingdom. If we don’t do that – if we don’t embody the Kingdom – we take the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner.

Now, since most churches don’t have a weekly meal within which time is set aside for the Lord’s Supper most churches don’t have a problem with some getting more cracker or juice than others. So, what’s the lesson for us?

Well, there are many ways this can be applied, but I’d like to raise one in this post. Namely, many churches don’t even have enough of a mix of rich and poor (or black, white, brown, and yellow, or old and young, etc.) to even have this become a theoretical problem. However, I am proposing that for a church to exist without this very mix of people is to partake of the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner.

At least the Corinthian church had a representative mix of the Kingdom walking through its doors. If a church doesn’t even make it there the issue of proper representation doesn’t even get raised. So, again, to exist as a homogeneous church, without any effort at being otherwise, is to partake, every week, of the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner.

A Method for Social Justice and Peacebuilding Ministries

As I mentioned a little while ago, I’ve been co-teaching a course titled “Preaching Justice in an Age of Globalization” this semester. My co-instructor is a colleague in the doctoral program in religion here at Emory. He focuses his studies in homiletics (preaching). My focus is in Christian Social Ethics. We set up the course in such a way that I was the lecturer during the first half of the course, and he will lecture during the second half of the course. Well, I finished up my half yesterday.

To conclude the first section of the course we discussed the “hermeneutical circle” (or “circle of praxis” or “pastoral circle”) method of doing theological and ethical reflection as a tool for doing social ministries of justice and peace. Basically, this method is intended to help guide social analysis and theological reflection to be more praxis/practice oriented and to draw upon lived personal and social experience as a resource for doing theology and ministry. It is not original to our class, but we created our own little version of the circle – really a never-ending spiral – we called The Method of Ministry for Social Justice and Peacebuilding.

The circle begins in lived experience; especially the experiences of the poor, marginalized, oppressed, and victimized. It starts with observed or lived experiences of injustice. At this point one begins moving through the circle. First, one observes reality: What is going on? Who is involved? Etc. The point of this step is to see as clearly as possible the social realities one will be engaging. This step is a step of description.

Second, one engages in social analysis. This step moves beyond mere description. Rather than asking who, what, when, and where questions one asks “why” questions. For example: Why is this neighborhood poorer than others in the city? Why is this poorer neighborhood made up of people who are primarily of one racial background? Why is the life expectancy rate in this community eight years less than a neighboring community? Etc. Here one intends to find patterns, political policies/programs, social structures, etc. that make what one observed in the first step possible and/or likely to occur.

Third, one moves to theological reflection. Here one draws upon the deep well of theological resources available in the Christian tradition to make sense of a world that makes x reality possible. In addition, one allows the lived experience that inspired this analysis to inform one’s theological interpretation of scripture and tradition. Being attuned to the realities of the “least of these” may, and often does, open up fresh avenues of theological insight that can serve to illuminate God’s truth and intention for the world.

Fourth, one integrates one’s social analysis and theological reflection to formulate a plan of action to address the social reality. This can and should be in the form of spiritual practices, social ministries, and social-political engagement. When engaging in ministries of social justice and peacebuilding one works with the assumption that not only individuals but social structures are a cause of injustice and must be transformed. This method is not for those who simply want to do mercy or charity/philanthrophy. Ministries of social justice are those that recognize the “big picture” ways that poverty, violence, racism, and disease work in the world and work to partner with God in redeeming all of creation and not just individual souls.

Fifth, one implements one’s plan of action. One actually practices what one preaches.

Sixth, one now evaluates the new reality that has been brought forth after one’s action. With each action we take we create a new world. Thus, the “hermeneutical circle” is really a “hermeneutical spiral” that never ends. Ministries of social justice and peacebuilding are long-term ministries. They are not one-off events.

This is a very brief introduction to the method. For a more in-depth, but still quite accessible treatment, I recommend Joe Holland and Peter Henriot, Social Analysis: Linking Faith and Justice, 1980.

Preaching Justice in an Age of Globalization

On Monday my friend and colleague Jacob Myers and I will teach the first installment of our course “Preaching Justice in an Age of Globalization” at Candler School of Theology. We are both really excited about this opportunity and course. I’ve taught several courses in ethics, leadership, and nonprofit management at Emory University’s Oxford College campus, and TA’d for courses at Candler before, but this will be the first course I’ve created and taught from scratch to seminarians. It should be a great experience – I’m sure for me, I hope for the students!

Months ago Jake called me up and asked to meet with me about an idea he had brewing in the back of his mind. The idea? He really wanted to teach a course on preaching justice that involved serious social engagement and he wanted me to dream up the course and teach it with him. His excitement quickly rubbed off on me and we were coming up with ideas on the spot. Now we finally get to teach it.

The impetus for the course were some burning questions that we both have wrestled with for awhile: “How does one preach about issues of social injustice in ways that encourage real engagement and work for social justice rather than one-time offerings to be sent off to people one never actually engages? How do we get Christians to understand, from the pulpit, that the gospel demands real work for justice and not just “charity?” And what tools do we need to provide ministers to be able to make informed decisions about what justice demands to avoid uninformed analysis or surface politicization of these issues?” Well, I’m the social ethicist and he’s the homiletician and we’re going to try our best to start figuring this out with our students this semester.

Our course description and objectives, as written in the syllabus, is this:

COURSE DESCRIPTION
This course aims to empower preachers to address issues of global injustice and oppression through their preaching ministry with the hope of mobilizing congregations to engage constructively in these issues. To that end, this course will equip students with critical tools to prepare congregations for ethical engagement in an age of globalization through their preaching ministry. We will model the kind of social analysis, theological/ethical reflection, and prophetic preaching we envision — one that is globally aware and locally mobilized — through in-depth engagement with a particular globalized context: viz., Atlanta. This “case study” will provide the opportunity for students to hone the skills they are learning — social and ethical analysis and prophetic preaching — by engaging a relevant contemporary context of social injustice, structural violence, and interpersonal harm that continues to have global implications. Atlanta serves as a particularly fascinating case study for preaching justice: from its role as a hub of the civil rights movement to its status as an urban epicenter for human trafficking; from its recent role as a symbolic site of contestation over American immigration policy to its burgeoning refugee population. As a necessary component of the course, students will be required to participate in an immersion experience during the semester that will serve as a catalyst for ethical, theological, and homiletical reflection.

COURSE OBJECTIVES
At the conclusion of the course students should have gained . . .
. . . a critical awareness of the complexities of social analysis in an age of globalization and a familiarity with the tools necessary to conduct such analyses
. . . a deeper knowledge of a particular social issue that is especially germane to the global injustices present in Atlanta (e.g., human trafficking, refugees, sustainability, immigration policy)
. . . a critical understanding of the challenges and opportunities the current cultural realities present to a preaching ministry attuned to the realities of global injustice
. . . a deepening of the skills learned in ES 501 (pre-requisite) in such a way as to better integrate theological and ethical analysis into the practical tasks of ministry, especially preaching. This course also serves as a complement to ES 609/M 619: Theology of Social Ministry/Social Mission of the Christian Church

. . . a deepening of the skills learned in P501 (pre-requisite) with a particular emphasis on the arts of prophetic and testimonial preaching

. . . a capacity to couple experience (both reported and personal) with biblical texts to craft sermons that lead to congregational engagement in issues of global injustice.

If you’re interested in seeing the entire syllabus you can find it here: Preaching Justice in an Age of Globalization Syllabus

It’s going to be a fun semester – wish me luck!

Ten Years Later: Personal Reflections on the Decade Since 9/11

Ten years ago I was in my car driving to work at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard in the early hours of the morning when I heard on the radio that planes had crashed into the World Trade Center. I arrived at the shipyard to extra security and a workday in which we watched the news for hours as we tried to make sense of what had happened. I was eighteen years old, a recent high school graduate. I had not pursued college and was a painting/sandblasting apprentice learning how to maintain the coatings on naval submarines and ships. This began what has become quite a long journey and a dramatic transformation in my life.

I am the child of a United States soldier and a Korean immigrant. My father is from a small town in middle Tennesse and my mother from the southern part of South Korea. My dad raised me on John Wayne movies, professional wrestling, SEC football, and Bible Belt-Church of Christ Christianity. My mother raised me on Korean food and immigrant dreams. As a youth I fell in love with hip hop music, my Korean-American identity, and the Church. I grew up imitating the Fresh Prince and idolizing Tupac Shakur. This was my existence. I came from a working class, immigrant family in a neighborhood where I could pretend I was Tupac when I wanted and still grow up in the safety of a loving church. This was my experience.

Part of that experience meant I was consistently conflicted: my conservative Christianity taught me a certain form of theology (and politics) that emphasized the individual, Puritan morality, and a romanticized American history; but my minority position in America and deep connection to the African-American community (through friends and culture) taught me a radical politics that exposed the contradictions and hypocrisies of my country and, sometimes, my faith. The result of being raised by a soldier who loved John Wayne movies and my deep love of hip hop music was that I embraced a deep belief in what Walter Wink has called “redemptive violence.” I firmly believed in an “eye for an eye” approach to the world.

Then two things happened: 9/11 and, a few months later, a call from God to enter the ministry. At this point my entire life and world began to change. I questioned the response to 9/11 I saw from my political and religious leaders. I heard questionable uses of Christian scripture and theology in the rhetoric of politicians and preachers. As I studied and meditated on the Bible to discern my call to the ministry I began to experience some cognitive dissonance with what I had always accepted as “just the way things are.” As we prepared for war I wondered if I could, as a Christian, participate in the preparation of weapons of war and remain faithful. As I went through my parents divorce and other hard times with family, the emptiness I felt making more money than I needed, and God’s constant pull on my heart I spent entire nights in prayer exploring what my future should be.

I eventually wound up at Pepperdine University where I studied Religion and went through a true faith transformation. I met some of the best friends I’ve ever had (they are truly my family) and studied with professors who challenged and transformed my faith. I studied scripture, theology, and history in a way that transformed my faith. I spent summers in slums in India and East Africa and was a minister at a church in inner-city Los Angeles. I learned about God’s special concern for the poor, the place of justice in Christian theology, and the call of God for Christians to be peacemakers. I studied the lives of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mohandas Gandhi and became an ardent advocate of nonviolence and steadily grew to reject the conservative politics I grew up accepting as “appropriate” for Christians even though they didn’t mesh with my experience. My time at Pepperdine opened up a new understanding of Christian theology and ministry that also transformed my politics.

From there I married my best friend; a woman who has seen me through many hard times and been a faithful representation of God’s grace and love for me throughout the years. We are quite the funny little couple: she is Black, Puerto Rican, and German, and I am White and Korean. We both grew up in the churches of Christ (we can make Baptists look liberal!) and as multi-racial people in a world that doesn’t know what to do with us. She grew up in a home with a loving marriage and went to private school her whole life. I grew up in a home where the marriage eventually imploded and went to public schools with, um, “reputations.” She never watched Fat Albert and I never watched The Princess Bride. But we make it do what it do and we love doing it together.

I also went to seminary and ran a homeless shelter in southern California, and I am now a doctoral student in social ethics and theology at Emory University. My commitment to nonviolence has become more nuanced, and I am no longer in traditional ministry. However, God has taken me on a journey that is more than I could have ever imagined on that day ten years ago:

1. My understanding of ministry has become more holistic. I believe I have remained faithful to God’s call on my life in my ministries at churches, in American and international slums, in my nonprofit work, and in my scholarship and teaching. In all that I do I still understand myself as one called by God to do ministry, but it doesn’t always have to look like I once thought it did.

2. My commitment to racial justice has become even stronger than it was as a youth. I’ve never been fooled by the “post-racial” rhetoric. As a child of an immigrant I know first hand what it means to encounter blatant and not-so-blatant racism. I’ve been called “gook” and seen the ways in which society dehumanizes those whose skin is not so light as mine. Fortunately, my theological journey has opened up even more resources for me to challenge such structures, in both society and church.

3. I now have a “theology of justice.” The personal evangelical theology of my youth has been replaced with a robust social theology that emphasizes justice-seeking. Coming to understand the biblical call for justice was a conversion experience for me. It changed my understanding of God’s will in the world, Christian ministry, and politics. In many ways this was a response to the theology of my youth that failed to help me make sense of the blatant injustice and suffering I saw in the places God let me to.

4. I also now have a “theology of peacemaking.” This was a direct response to 9/11 and those Christian leaders I saw who had no ability to question America’s militaristic response to 9/11. I heard sermons that told us the Christian thing to do was to be patriotic and support American wars without any question. This didn’t sit well with me for some reason and I now know why: it wasn’t Christian. The examples of Jesus and MLK have forever changed my life. While the world has continued its violent ways since 9/11, I have tried very hard to live my life as a peacemaker. I have succeeded at this in some instances and have failed miserably in others, but I am working towards this every day.

5. I like to tell people I once said, “Two things I’ll never do: go to college and be in ministry.” God has since led me through college and two graduate schools, and has taken me all over the world doing ministry. My experiences in third world slums and America’s ghettoes have forever changed me. I’ve encountered many people and done many things I never imagined I could, let alone would, growing up in the home of an at one time unemployed soldier and a fast food service worker. I now find myself among the world’s elite talking about things I used to care nothing for. I’m just a cat from Tacoma, WA. I graduated from Spanaway Lake High School. My mother is a janitor and waitress. My father is a career soldier. I’m not supposed to be here. But this is where God has taken me. I’m excited to see where the next ten years will lead.

Working with God: A Sermon

I preached at North Atlanta Church of Christ again this past Sunday. This summer the church is focusing on the mission of God by studying three prophets – Jonah, Haggai, and Joel – and this week I was tasked with preaching one of the sermons on Haggai. You can find the video and audio clips of the sermon here.

Social Location and Biblical Interpretation

Recently, I have been reminded about the unique way that God reveals himself to, and is revealed in the life of, the “least of these.” I firmly believe that God is present among and discovered in those places and persons that we discard as “unworthy” of the love and justice owed them because of race, ethnicity, class, disability, or social behavior. I believe that scripture and the best of Christian theology bear witness to this truth, and my personal experience has confirmed it in a very real way. Some of those times where I have most clearly seen God’s face and witnessed God’s activity have been in Indian leper colonies, African slums, and the streets of America’s metropolitan cities. My faith rests in knowing that God has not only not abandoned “the least of these,” but identifies with and and is found within their lives which so evidently bear witness to the reality of human sinfulness.

I come from a working class background. While never experiencing extreme poverty, my childhood included some rather lean times. However, I’ve devoted myself to a life of solidarity with/service to the poor for several years now and have lived among and with poor people on a regular basis. Since my move to Atlanta to work on my doctorate, however, I spend the vast majority of my time among some of the world’s most privileged people. I live in a world my friends from home would quickly label “bourgie.” And they’d be right. I drink white and green tea on a regular basis, make pizza with arugula, enjoy the theater, and spend much of my time discussing theology, philosophy, and ethics. In this context I’ve often found myself missing regular contact with those society ignores, discards, and undervalues. It has been my shame that I have not spent more time learning from them, and less time learning from books, over the last couple of years.

Today, however, I was able to spend some quality time with those on the bottom of American society – women who are recovering drug addicts. Inspired by this wonderful post, sent to me by a good friend, I taught portions of Matthew 13 in that study. We talked about the power of stories in our lives and why Jesus so often chose to teach by telling them, and we looked at a couple of those stories found in Matthew 13:44-46. I told the story of the man who “put his soul in the pawn shop” as well as the classic Christmas story “The Gift of the Magi.” Afterwards, these women shared some of their stories, how they’d sold/lost everything, including children, for drugs, and how they’ve now given up drugs, which for many was their “pearl of great price,” for faith and life anew. There was no theoretical contemplation about whether they’d be willing to give up everything for faith and new life in God’s Kingdom. They continue to do so everyday. Jesus’s parables were no intellectual exercise, they are true reflections of their experience.

During this experience I was reminded of the time I taught Jesus’s parable “The Rich Man and Lazarus” (Luke 16:19-31) to homeless youth in a slum in Nairobi, Kenya. When this story is taught in American, suburban churches the clear import of this story is rationalized away in every way possible. However, those who live in one of Africa’s largest slums quickly understood the import of the story: they will one day be in God’s presence and everyone who ignored them every day as they passed them on the street would not. It is those who are poor, and those who are not poor but devote themselves to the cause of the poor, who will enter “Abraham’s bosom.” Those who daily ignore the poor and “least” will not be able to share in the eternal comfort of God’s direct presence. The parable is clear, and its direct meaning fits quite easily in the rest of Luke’s theology, but we who live in comfort in history’s most wealthy nation can come up with a million reasons not to believe its message.

I was reminded on that day and again today that social location means much when it comes to biblical interpretation and theological reflection. And the location through which God is most fully and clearly known is that of “the least of these” because it is there that Christ chooses to dwell. We cannot help the location into which we are born, but we can control the location(s) that we learn from and commit ourselves to. My guess is that most people who will read this post are relatively privileged. My challenge is that they – like me – do not necessarily choose poverty, though I do not count that out as a viable option and call of God, but rather choose solidarity with “the least of these” defined by love for those “least” you know and justice for those “least” you do not.

She who has ears, let her hear.

The Ministry of Prophetic Imagination

I am lucky enough to be spending my summer as one of the ministry interns at North Atlanta Church of Christ. I am the intern of Don McLaughlin, the pulpit minister (pastor, for you non cofC folks!), and will be spending my summer creating curriculum for the adult education program, helping to create the preaching plan for the summer, doing research, teaching classes, and any other various tasks that come my way. This past Sunday I was blessed to preach the first of two sermons I will preach at NACOC this summer. The title of the sermon was “The Ministry of Prophetic Imagination.” In this sermon I helped introduce our summer sermon series on missions and the prophetic literature. You can check the sermon out here. If you take the time to listen to it I’d love to hear your feedback. Thanks!