Arresting Ministerial "Stop and Frisk"?

[This post was originally published on my pastoral advocacy blog called the Cupbearers Initiative, however, it has wider application than just pastors. It has to do with how we look at the world and how we engage those that we perceive as "other."]
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Since this is primarily a blog to support and encourage pastors and other ministry leaders, I like to be real about some of the issues we face. This post addresses one such issue.

A Dangerous Practice 

Photo: Creative Commons

One of the dangers faced by those of us in ministry leadership is having a “stop and frisk” mentality. I am referring to the well-known practice employed by Mayor Bloomberg and the New York City Police (and many other agencies) in an approach to reducing their horrific violent crime and murder rates. They did so by stopping, questioning, and frisking people on the street to confiscate illegal weapons. While the policy arguably did reduce murder rates, it led to significantly unjust racial profiling and harmed the already tenuous relationship of communities of color with the police.

Photo: Greg K. Dueker

In this post, I am using “stop and frisk” as a metaphor to describe what happens when a shepherd’s heart is either lifted up in prideful self-righteousness or wounded by the pain, suffering, and trauma others have inflicted upon those they love. I have been one of those shepherds. As leaders, we don’t want to see the people we care for hurt so we can easily go into “protect mode” failing to remember that we have been called to love our enemies too. Our attitude can quickly become bounded by “us/them” feelings, thoughts, and words that lead to unwelcoming actions. We can become more about circling the wagons into a safe defensive perimeter that we fail to reach out in love and understanding (even in disagreement) to our neighbors. Jesus reminds us repeatedly that safety is not the highest value in the kingdom. When you read the previous statement, what verses come to your mind? I have my working list, but I prefer to let you develop your own.

Photo by Paul M on Unsplash

I remember a season, early in my marriage and my ministry, that while I was not actually stopping and frisking people on the street, I was ready to do so. I had become hyper-vigilant in a misguided effort to reduce the human damage caused by lawbreaking. I viewed strangers as suspects until they could prove otherwise. Though I was not deployed in any military conflict, I became quite good at real-time threat assessment in order to protect those I loved and to meet the challenge of the spiritual conflict that swirled around us.

The problem with this approach is that it loves people very selectively if at all. It does not love “others” as Jesus taught us to love. A probing question we should answer is, have we received the love of God so that we are content to keep it to ourselves, sharing only when seekers come and ask? Or, has the love of God so transformed our hearts and lives that we cannot help but share that steadfast love freely with others?

Wrestling Matches or Missional Welcome

Photo by Henry Hustava on Unsplash

While there is a very real spiritual battle surrounding us, we must remember that our weapons are not of this world and we are not to use the world’s methods when contrary to the scriptures (e.g., 2 Cor. 10:3-4). It seems to me that we are prone to compartmentalize this concept, limiting its declaration as applying only to literal weapons such as assault rifles, tanks, dirty bombs, and drone strikes.

Photo: Randy Fath on Unsplash

As Christian leaders who take the Bible seriously, we know that the kingdom of God is not established by the coercive force of human weapons but through sacrificial love (John 18:36; Rev. 12:11). We would certainly not want to commit again the sins of the Spanish Conquistadors and the accompanying Inquisition. However, do we engage those outside the church, or those from other churches, using the thinking processes of the world as a weapon? Paul writes in this passage that “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood” (Eph. 6:12) so while we don’t physically throw all the seekers, skeptics, and schemers against the wall and frisk them for weapons, we may do something even worse. We can desecrate the holy encounters God gives us with people when we treat them more like confrontations than conversations, more like wrestling matches against wrong thinking than really hearing and entering into a human story, and then topping it off by justifying our confrontational approach as “striving against sin.” Sometimes we need to be reminded that “the anger of man does not accomplish the righteousness of God” (James 1:20; Prov. 29:22).

People want to be seen, heard, understood, and valued. Any ministerial stop-and-frisk ideology will hinder the type of outwardly focused love that best represents the way the Trinity shares their goodness with all creation. Stop-and-frisk processes remove the merciful welcome of hospitality. A mortal sin in the ancient world. These suspicious and confrontational approaches can make evangelism and gospel ministry more like a mugging than relational ministry. I would even suggest that we see conversion, and the larger discipleship process, as less transactional and more about the Spirit-led journey towards full faith in Jesus Christ.

Seeing Past the Edge of the Earth

Photo by Florian Rieder on Unsplash

It is normal for us to draw lines and make judgments. We engage and do life together with those people who are enough like us to dwell inside our circumscribed borders of us/them, the flat earth of our own making. We need Jesus’ to open our eyes to see beyond the edge of the earth with which we are comfortable. We need eyes to see and ears to hear as he does because his love is not constrained by our limitations.

What do we see when we look at others? How do we spiritually profile them? There was a time when Saul of Tarsus and others considered Jesus just a carpenter’s son. They could not see his true identity. We do the same thing when we fail to recognize that each person we meet is an image-bearer (whether they know it or not) and is precious in the sight of God. Saul/Paul later testified that their own attitude had been adjusted by Christ so that now, “we regard no one according to the flesh.” (2 Cor. 5:16)

Photo: Unsplash

We need to discern Christ in the least like of those we meet, humbly being ready to learn from their stories, struggles, and even their strange experiences as human parables. Will we have an ear to hear and a heart to respond? Does our perception end at the edge of our little earth? Or can we see beyond that, with eyes of faith, love, and hope what Christ intends for each person to become?

Even as many police agencies move away from stop-and-frisk tactics and embrace community policing through building positive and mutually helpful relationships, may we as evangelicals get a clue. Jeremiah 29:7 admonished the Jewish exiles to settle down and get busy, “But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” We are not in exile, but our mission cannot be any less engaged in seeking the common good. As ambassadors of the kingdom of heaven, the love of Christ compels us to do so!

The Beauty of Red Cups

Every Christmas, there seems to be at least one retailer who forbids employees to wish customers a “Merry Christmas” or one municipality that removes a manger scene and as a result, bears the brunt of Christians venting a year’s worth of frustration at being marginalized by our post-Christendom culture. This year is no exception.

A normally chilly November has featured a rather heated debate, even a firestorm of resistance to Starbucks’ rollout of their plain red cups for the holidays this year. Many have taken to social media to proclaim their dissatisfaction. I have remarked to several people that this argument is misguided and actually counter-productive to the cause of Christ. I would like to go on record and say that I like the relatively simple yet elegant red cups marking the Christmas season at Starbucks…for several reasons.

I was encouraged to find that the Starbucks news blog post, dated November 1, 2015, shows an astute cultural awareness that is unfortunately lost on many American Christians who think that all cultures should revolve around them, using their language and symbols. The Starbucks cups appear after Halloween and signal the addition of special holiday drinks to their menu. While Starbucks might be trying to spin this conflict in its favor, I sensed a sincerity that needs to be heard. And that is the problem, isn’t it? Frequent readers of my blogs will recognize that this is a regular theme in my writing. Any time we respond without actually listening to the viewpoint of another (no matter which side of the argument we are on) we reveal ourselves to be unwise.

Why Did They Do It?

Jeffrey Fields, Starbucks' vice president of Design & Content is quoted in the post and I want you to be able to read his words for yourself,

Taking a cue from customers who have been doodling designs on cups for years (Starbucks held a contest to support this creativity), this year’s design is another way Starbucks is inviting customers to create their own stories with a red cup that mimics a blank canvas.  

“In the past, we have told stories with our holiday cups designs,” said Fields. “This year we wanted to usher in the holidays with a purity of design that welcomes all of our stories.”

In the nearly two decades since the first red Starbucks cup, the company has grown from 1,400 stores in a handful of countries to more than 23,000 stores in 68 markets around the world.

“Starbucks has become a place of sanctuary during the holidays,” he said. “We’re embracing the simplicity and the quietness of it. It’s a more open way to usher in the holiday.”

Creating a culture of belonging, inclusion, and diversity is one of the core values of Starbucks, and each year during the holidays the company aims to bring customers an experience that inspires the spirit of the season. Starbucks will continue to embrace and welcome customers from all backgrounds and religions in our stores around the world.[1]

While I have liked the special cups of Christmases past (I happily own some) I love the idea of the cup being a symbolic "canvas" where we can create our own stories in community with others. Past years’ cups have been almost too cluttered with seasonal themes (hope, peace, love, giving) and symbols—trees, snowflakes, ornaments, reindeer, gifts, etc. All are placed there with a marketing connection to increasing sales. None of these things are really outwardly Christian, so it is hard to see this as a credible attack on Christmas by Starbucks. The biggest danger to the western church is not the “bleak midwinter” of Christ-less secularism, but it might just be consumerism. In which case, a simple cup might point us back in the right direction… toward open engagement with others in time spent, stories shared, and all done around an open table.

A Place of Sanctuary

Are our homes a sanctuary?

Are our homes and churches known as places of sanctuary, or are they filled, in turn, with bustling acrimony or bored apathy? Not only am I impressed with the reasoning behind the red cups, but I am also personally convicted when Mr. Fields says, “Starbucks has become a place of sanctuary during the holidays,” he said. “We’re embracing the simplicity and the quietness of it. It’s a more open way to usher in the holiday.” As I have written previously (Rethinking “Don’t Talk to Strangers!”), I rarely sit in a Starbucks without speaking to a stranger, making a new friend, working on a sermon, mentoring other Christians, or just enjoying being with family and friends. I see others doing likewise. Why are we the church not more of a “sanctuary”? Why is it that we are rarely described by words like “simplicity” and “quietness”? And for those who consider “holiday” a trigger word, it literally means “holy day” so if we truly considered a day holy how would we treat others on it? I have apologized to the baristas in my local Starbucks because they have to work on Christmas, but they say they love sharing the day with the crew and the people who come in are happier than normal.

Back to the Red Cups.

What does red mean? Is it not rife with biblical symbolism? Certainly, it reminds me of the “blood of Christ” that was shed on a Roman cross to wash away our sins. But perhaps more seasonally appropriate, red is the color of humanity for Adam was made from the red dust of the ground. It is at Christmas that God the Son left the culture of heaven behind to become fully human so that he might redeem us, become the perfect advocate for us, and set us free from our slavery to the fear of death (Hebrews 2:14-18). If we are going to engage the world like Jesus did, we will have to start with humbling ourselves, not grasping or demanding (Philippians 2:1-11).

I don’t agree with everything Starbucks does nor with all the values that they profess…like when they spell my name wrong. Yes, coffee drinks are often too expensive, though I usually drink the less expensive iced coffee. Having said that, Starbucks has been a blessing to the church as a “third space” in the community to talk, listen, laugh, study, and share with believers and those who don’t—even without reindeer on their cups.

Finally, I don’t need to fib about my name to force baristas to write "Merry Christmas" on my cup and then have to call out “Merry Christmas, your tall non-fat iced coffee with mocha is ready!” I am more interested in talking to them while they take my order and make my coffee…treating them as fully human and even as friends. So hopefully, when I wish them a "Merry Christmas!", and I will, they will believe I mean it and agree that it has been merry indeed.

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[1] Pasted from https://news.starbucks.com/news/the-story-behind-the-design-of-starbucks-red-holiday-cups-for-2015

For Want of a Shoe…Discalced Diplomacy

The first question that many of my readers might have is, “What does discalced mean?” It simply means “without shoes”. In Exodus 3:4-6, we see that God revealed himself to Moses at the burning bush with the command for him to take off his sandals.

When the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” Then he said, “Do not come near; take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” And he said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.

Even today, many cultures do not wear their shoes into homes or

houses of worship because they know the street is unclean and don’t want to track the grime and gutter-grunge of their world into the presence of their hosts.

There were men and women of faith in centuries past who became convinced that the monastic orders of which they were a part had grown too worldly and were seeking their own pleasure instead of being wholehearted followers of Jesus. It seems that they irritated their own people with all their talk of reform and either chose—or were forced—to leave and start their own missional communities. One sign of their devotion was to stop wearing shoes, or later, to wear only sandals. For example, St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross started the Discalced Carmelite orders in the 16^th Century.

My discalced story has nothing to do with medieval mendicant orders, at least not directly. But they removed their shoes as a symbol of a radical commitment to follow Jesus rather than compromising their convictions to serve the status quo.

Some years ago, I had a similar experience. I was at a gathering of pastors and leaders from several churches for a three-day time of mutual encouragement and seeking the Lord together without the normal conference-style agenda. During our last time of gathered worship, I felt strongly that the Lord wanted me to take off my shoes.  I have to confess that I wasn’t very open to the idea. To my rational German/British upbringing, it made no sense, and I could discern no explanation for the prompting. The music was quite loud in a rather small space, so I moved to the back of the room to sort things out and preserve what was left of my hearing. While standing there in the midst of a time of praise, I finally made the decision to obey the prompting of the Holy Spirit and humble myself by removing my shoes…opening myself up to potential embarrassment if questioned. It was a profound moment of surrender, over a very simple request, where I had to trust that responding to the Lord was more important than any appearances. After the service ended, I put on my shoes and headed for the airport to fly home. Still, I had no explanation in my heart from the Lord about why I had been asked to take my shoes off. There was not even a hint of the “for this is holy ground” that Moses had received at the burning bush. However, I knew that at that moment I was in right relationship with the Lord and that I wasn’t holding anything back.  

On the flight to Atlanta, I was privileged to sit next to a critical care nurse headed to visit her aging mother in California. After a time of chatting about my destination in Oregon, she labeled herself as a “lapsed Catholic New Age practitioner.” Upon hearing this, I asked her to tell me about what that meant. She was surprised that I was interested, saying, “Most Christians I meet don’t want to hear anything about what I believe.” This led to a delightfully serene conversation about our core convictions while the plane was increasingly batted about by the thunderstorm raging outside.

At one point, she confessed that she could tell that I must be “a holy man” for I had “very clean energy.” That was unexpected, but I thanked her for the compliment. At that point, I realized that if I hadn’t humbled myself at the Lord’s request just a couple of hours earlier, she would probably not have noticed any “clean energy” emanating from me. It was the Holy Spirit that guided me in an unhurried, patient, and kind approach, my discalced diplomacy if you will, which created space for thoughtful and authentic interaction to occur. I consciously left my ideological shoes at the door, so as to hear her in her own words, instead of parroting all the anti-New Age authors and apologists I may have heard in the past.

I listened respectfully, asked clarifying questions when necessary, and thanked her genuinely for helping me understand her perspective, with only the admission, “That is very different from what I believe.” A few minutes later, she asked me about my beliefs and how they were different from her own.

As things grew more turbulent outside, I noticed others were listening in on our conversation. There was the woman one row in front of us who had turned her head so that she could listen through the gap between the seat-backs.  There was the middle-linebacker-looking man across the aisle, whose reddened face and bulging neck veins made me wonder if he disagreed with what I was saying or was fighting airsickness. To my surprise, once we landed, a co-worker of mine, who had been seated five or six rows away, said that everyone around us had been listening and he had been praying for hearts to be receptive to the gospel presented conversationally.

There is a verse of conventional wisdom, nearly a thousand years old, which says,

For want of a nail, the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost.
For want of a horse, the rider was lost.
For want of a rider, the message was lost.
For want of a message, the battle was lost.
For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

The proverbial lesson that every small detail matters is not lost on me. We have no excuse to be lazy or careless in our calling. Yet I also know the Lord often works in counterintuitive ways.

 

So, what if we intentionally took our metaphorical shoes off when engaging others with diverse perspectives and world-views? What would happen if we simply took off the ideological combat boots of the culture wars and the supple-to-hand designer shoes of our consumption-based economy, and went barefoot for a bit? Then, after slowing down and stepping on a rock or two, we tried to walk in the other person’s proverbial moccasins for a mile or so.

I remember having to walk down a gravel road to and from the beach many times while growing up and most often we were barefoot. The gravel was uneven and sharp which made the trip painful, slow, and a bit unsteady as we tried to pick our way through and find the best route for everyone. Perhaps we should approach our times of inter-faith and multi-ethnic diplomacy the same way…slowly and sacredly.

 

“Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.” (Col. 4:6)

[Update: I wrote this five years ago, but in recent weeks we have seen the world changed by the COVID-19 virus. Many areas are on lockdown or at least practicing social distancing. One thing that public health leaders advised early on was to not wear shoes in the house. Instead of potentially tracking the virus into our homes, let's take off our physical and metaphorical shoes out of love for others!]

Bridge-Building 2: "Relational Impact Studies"

[This is a sequel to a previous post, entitled Bridge-building in A Chaotic World.] 

Bridge-building with other cultures and people from other religious backgrounds must start with asking a few questions and then taking time to really listen. What is their story? Who are their family? What brings them joy or sadness? What is their direction, their goal that they are seeking? What are some of the most deeply held values that assist them in their life journey? I am also interested in their impressions of Christianity and Christians prior to this time and what has formed those opinions.

If we don’t ask and then sit quietly to listen over coffee or tea how will we know where to start building a bridge or if it is necessary? Perhaps there are strong bridge members already in place that need to be identified. There are a couple of things we can do that will sabotage the pre-building process. The first thing is to treat the listening process as a means to a unilaterally desired end. As impatient task-oriented Westerners, we often want to cut through the relational ceremony and get down to business. But what if the other person considers the relational ceremony as a business?

A second thing we can do that will render the listening stage non-relational is if we are listening only as a means to know what to say in response. Many years ago I used to view a conversation like a chess match and would be thinking at least a couple of responses ahead. I swore it off as violating one of my core values, that of hearing and being heard. People can tell the difference between a dialogue and a disguised monologue so we need to stop fooling ourselves.

While individualism is rooted in interests, personhood is tied to relationships. If we are going to have a relationship then we must fully listen to one another without feeling the compulsion to rebut, correct, fix, or persuade them to another point of view. Certainly, that may come as we acknowledge our respective convictions, but it must not be the purpose of our “listening.”

As I mentioned in a previous post when building a bridge the builders need to pick the right site, materials, and design. Similarly, if I don’t make myself teachable to those I am trying to connect then the relational "bridge" will in some way fail to deliver that which it promises. If we can’t be trusted to safely treasure the story, needs, and longings of others then our efforts at bridge-building will be seen more as an invasion and an occupation rather than an authentic connection.

My late father was a wildlife biologist and wetlands scientist who made his living doing environmental impact studies that must occur before any major construction project. It seems to me that the listening phase of bridge-building is somehow like a relational environmental impact study.

How can I learn what God is already doing in a person’s life if I don’t take time to sit and listen and watch? How can we assess how our efforts to “help” may actually hinder if we don’t listen to the still small voice of the Lord amidst our relentless pressing forward with our projects? I recently sat with a businessman who confessed to being a terrible listener and being bothered by that flaw. He was right. He was loud, opinionated, and more interested in what he had to say than what I was saying. But at least he was honest about the prevailing winds in his relationships and how they would affect any bridge-building in his life. He also desired to change and had opened his life to be mentored in this area.

Some have grown cynical from the too frequent “public meetings” hosted by our elected officials where they never seem to really care what the public says unless it agrees with what leaders have already made up their minds to do. Has the world grown cynical towards our Christian efforts at bridge-building because we don’t listen (or are perceived not to listen)? I don't want to contribute to such impressions.

Photo by Kayle Kaupanger on Unsplash

If these concepts resonate with you, Multnomah Biblical Seminary offers both a MA in Applied Theology and a Doctor of Ministry degree that incorporates such issues of cross-cultural engagement. This post is a sample of something that was initially written as a class assignment for that program. I invite you to check out this bridge-building program as a paradigm for the ministry of God's unchanging love in the midst of this changing world.

Also, a listening-related post that looks at whether God hears our deepest cries can be found in Psalm 22 “Unanswered Call… Answered”.

Can I Hear You Now?

In writing my final paper for this year's classes, I was trying to briefly express the mutuality of listening that has come to serve as a counterbalance to my desire to be heard by others. This is what I came up with...

For about ten years, Verizon has had a very effective marketing campaign for their wireless network, “Can you hear me now?” In fact, when we hear those five words, chances are good that we will picture the guy on the cell phone walking through all manner of locations testing his coverage. It is a simple phrase that hits at the heart of a deep human need, that of being heard. My most traumatic moments are usually tied to my not being able to communicate the issues of the heart, of identity, to another person. Either because they wouldn’t listen or because I didn’t feel safe sharing. Talk about heartburn! However, I have concluded that a better question for me to ask is, “Can I hear you now?”

If I can’t hear you, is it because I am not listening, because my cultural filters don’t allow me to truly hear what you are saying, because we don’t speak the same language, or perhaps because you don’t feel safe enough around me to say what is in your heart? I suppose there could be another reason I can’t hear you—you may have been so oppressed and rejected that you don’t realize that you have something to say. Trust me you do. Everyone has been given a voice—having been made in the image of God—we, like the Prophet Isaiah, need the Lord to touch our mouth with a coal from the altar because our voice and the voices that surround us have been tainted by sin (Isaiah 6:1-7).

I have found that what I must proclaim involves much more than getting people to hear me. It involves getting myself stop talking and pay attention long enough to be able to hear them more fully. It is as people are given voice, made fully human in my eyes (and theirs), that I can learn from them and we can grow together. It also involves enabling others to become free enough to add their voice to the great anthem of that is the Mission of God in the world.

After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” (Revelation 7:9-10)

As we surrender our pride and our fear to our loving Savior—Jesus Christ—he draws us together in dialog, in just actions, and in mutual hospitality, as brothers and sisters in the family of God. I have a feeling that it is a family gathering we have been looking forward to our whole lives, whether we knew it or not. We can have a better network.

I am also working on listening long enough and engaging personally enough to allow you to speak what we both need to hear.

Feel free to tell me what you think.

You have the final say.

So I am asking, “Can I hear you now?”