Tag: community

The Sojourner

On January 21, 2026

In Community, History, Love, Politics, The Church, Theology

The current federal efforts to detain and deport immigrants in order to make our country safer only seem to make things worse and expose the fact that we have immoral tactics without clearly stated goals. For one thing, we again hear of separating children from parents, denial of hearings and basic rights, and physical abuse. After a while one realizes that these practices are very cruel by intention. The goal seems to be to punish and intimidate people if they dare to cross the border illegally. Some think the reign of terror is preparation to scare people away from the polls in 2026. Then there are clear signals that the program is not about the border but removal of certain racial and ethnic groups in order to affirm the racism of white nationalists. There is talk of closing the border to people from the third world, insults directed toward Somalis and a clear preference for white immigrants. Programs designed to save America turn out to be very un-American and unholy.

The government claims the problem is with the immigrants and the need to secure the border. It talks about hardened criminals: murderers and terrorists flooding the streets, making cities danger zones. It calls immigrants vermin. But it is hard to support the tough tactics against parents and children. Why send ICE agents to schools and churches if they looking for criminals?

If a person enters without papers or overstays a visa, one is breaking a law. But it overstates the case to call all 11 million immigrants without papers hardened criminals. Violent abduction and removal do not make us safer and consider the cost in dollars and moral injury. It tends to ignore some important facts.

For one thing, it is not at all clear whether our government—national or state—opposed or allowed such crossings. The immigrants came for work and employers wanted a cheap labor force. It would appear we are complicit in creating an underclass of low paid workers to fill basic needs. A second relevant factor is that this has been going on for decades, involving up to 12 million people. It is estimated that there are 2.5 million dreamers in the US, who have been denied citizenship but can only dream of it. Calling all these people hardened criminals does not reflect either why they came or what they have been doing for decades.

Given what has been happening, it is clear we need a new general policy on immigration. But who is going to draft such a policy? Shall it be written by those who publically express prejudice toward people from the third world? Or, should tactics be developed by those who think it is quite appropriate to employ cruel practices such as separation of children from parents or threats to imprison people in third party countries?

My purpose in discussing this is to explore how our faith offers support for a positive and realistic policy. This is especially needed since the current government and its supporters wish to speak in the language of Christian faith and co-opt its themes, or substitute very negative values for the tradition. Here are four themes in the Bible relevant to forming immigration policy.

The first is that God has created all people: all are of value and are joined together as children of God. This affirmation of equality also appears in the prophetic demand that justice and mercy be applied to all, not just the select few. And it boldly appears in the New Testament in the inclusive nature of baptism and the Lord’s Supper, signifying our new creation. Note that people have not been excluded from baptism because of race, ethnicity, political or class differences, gender or disability. To be sure, the institution of slavery in the American colonies created a serious crisis as to whether slaves should be baptized, since baptism conveyed equality among the members. In the end, the result was to deny equality. Such a decision was wrong both on Christian grounds and on the grounds of the newly affirmed equality in the Constitution.

There is no way to avoid the fact that the Biblical view of creation rejects any attempt to define our nation by racial or class superiority. Yet the goals and slogans of white nationalism keep appearing in the government’s statements on immigration. In recent weeks we hear of excluding people from third world countries, or the denigration of people from Somalia by referring to them as garbage. The special welcome of white South Africans sends a clear message about racial and ethnic preferences, as did the reference to Norwegians being an ideal source of immigrants during the first term of the President.

Given our history, which included the removal of indigenous peoples and the institution of black slavery, the whole issue of who belongs has never been far from the daily news. The Founders set forth a vision of a nation not defined by race, class, ethnicity, or religion, but as we know, they were unable to put it fully into practice. Many had hoped that the blood of those who died in the Civil War would wash away the sin of racial supremacy. It did not. In spite of the suffering of Black people and their noble witness to a peaceful America, we still find that the issue has not been settled. In fact, white supremacy is now advocated by the President and he publically gives support to white supremacy groups. For this reason, Christians must decide whether they will be faithful to Scripture and the teachings of Jesus.

A second theme is the need to show justice and mercy to the poor. This is repeatedly affirmed by the prophets. It is illustrated unambiguously in the parable of the Good Samaritan and the teachings of Jesus. As a consequence, the presence of people in need requires that those in power and those with eyes to see shall come to their aid. Roman Catholics have learned this since childhood. The new Pope chose the name Leo because the other Pope Leo expressed a deep concern for the poor. In a similar way, Protestants live with the commands of Jesus, where he tells us that when we aid the thirsty, we provide water to him.

The challenge is what shall we do about some 11 to 12 million people without legal papers living and working in our midst? The vast majority are not criminals. Most work, pay taxes and send their children to school. Because of their legal jeopardy take on difficult jobs for less—which constitutes an underclass of low paid workers not eligible to vote or receive social security or most government programs. In the name of truthfulness, Christians need to affirm that these people are human beings, beloved by God and people who have certain rights. As the poor of Latin America, they are under multiple Biblical mandates to receive our protection and aid.

A third theme is that love, reconciliation and peace are higher goals than hate, division and violence. This goes to the heart of the Christian faith. At the Memorial Service for Charlie Kirk, after Kirk’s wife declared that she had forgiven the assassin of her husband, the President declared that he disagreed: he hated his opponents. Here was a dramatic challenge to the Christian affirmation that we should love our enemies and seek reconciliation and peace. The problem is that hate only divides and does not settle anything. The world will not be redeemed by hate but by love and the will to be reconciled to those who oppose us. In the first week of December, when denouncing the Somalis, Mr. Trump also warned that we are at a tipping point. I think he is right, though disagree which way we ought to go. One way is the way of white supremacy which can only lead to division and violence; the other way is the way of affirming the humanity of all people, which can lead to inclusivity and peace.

Now is the time to oppose the attempts to denigrate and subordinate racial or ethnic groups. We have seen what this did by the institution of black slavery in America as a means to create cheap labor. The denigration of Hispanic immigrants by branding them as hardened criminals is the first step to the denial of rights and to maximize mistreatment. The government has made it very clear that it wants to define the future in terms of white nationalism. Its attack on equality and inclusion of non-white people violates the affirmations that God has created all people and we are called to live in peace.

A fourth theme is found in a set of passages which relate directly to strangers and sojourners in the ancient world whom we would call immigrants (cf. Ex. 23:9; Dt. 10:19 and Lev. 19: 33-34). They are formulated in a twofold way: On one level we are commanded to show mercy and aid to strangers and sojourners. Recall that the Patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac and Jacob) were nomads who ended up in Egypt during an extended drought and famine. There is also an interesting twist in the translation of two of these passages: in the Revised Standard Version (1952), all three passages refer to strangers. But in the New Revised Standard Version of 1989, the Exodus verse changes to resident aliens and the Leviticus verse changes to alien. This emphasizes the seriousness of the situation: the command has to do with people who are strangers, or aliens or very different and definitely people we don’t know.

On a secondary level, what is unique is about all three passages is how the general idea of helping strangers is personalized. It is placed in the context of Israel’s own history and identity. It is the God who brought you out of the land of Egypt who now commands Israel to show hospitality and mercy to the strangers or aliens because you (Israel) were strangers and aliens. This drastically changes the mandate based on prudential considerations (for example, be kind to people and maybe they will be kind to you). The reason now is that the Israelites were once strangers and sojourners rescued by God. Therefore, out of gratitude to God we are to show kindness and mercy to strangers. Once the mandate is personalized in this way, then remembrance becomes a key to one’s identity. We are to show kindness to sojourners because we were sojourners; to forget is to deny what God has done and who we are. Thus the Book of Deuteronomy defines faithfulness as remembering who you are and sin as forgetting.

If by now you are not seeing fireworks and red flashing lights, then you need to re-examine the structure of the Biblical command. The moral command (i.e., help the sojourner) is placed in the context of Israel’s history and identity. Aid to the sojourner has to do with what God has done for you and who you are, i.e., a sojourner. To make the point from the negative side: if you do not obey this command, then you are denying what God has done for you and who you are. It is to claim that someone else is responsible for your salvation—maybe yourself—and that you are not one in need or the recipient of aid or kindness.

Some will say that all this is very nice, but it is all tied to the Old Testament. That does not shield Christians from this very personal way of being obligated to help the needy. In the New Testament Jesus takes the abstract command of loving one another and declares that aid given to the needy is aid given to him. By not aiding, you are turning your back on Christ.

By now I assume you are able to make the connection of all this to the issue of immigrants, our modern day strangers and sojourners. There is no doubt in my mind that in the present situation, Christians are obligated to provide aid and mercy, because God did so to us and we ourselves were once strangers and aliens from the mercy of God. On what basis can a nation of immigrants turn its back on new immigrants? But I must admit that this still does not give us a blueprint for what to do with 11 million immigrants. That is why we need a new policy with new procedures. Of course Christians must provide aid, but they must also lobby effectively for policies which would establish how many immigrants may be welcomed and how specifically cities, states and the federal government are going to provide the means for housing, health, education and work for people who are already part of our society or who will enter in the future.

It is frightening to consider that many in the government and in support of the current government refuse to place the current crisis in the context of our history and identity. The deliberate attempt to deny major portions of our history seems intended to deny any personal obligation. I can only assume that by denying that we were once strangers and immigrants, such denials are intended to relieve us from helping the poor in our midst.

How strange that seems in light of the celebration of Thanksgiving, but two months ago. There we paused to remember and give thanks to God and others for the ways we are indebted to so many—past and present—for what we have and take for granted. For good reason Deuteronomy insists that we remember what we have received. The key to life is remembering, lest we forget. Once we start forgetting, then we are tempted to think that we are responsible for all that we have and we begin to forget the ways others came to our aid. It is to live under the pretense that the upper half of the society never received help or aid from the government or anyone else. Even worse, it leads to the illusion that we deserve all that we have and that the poor should not receive aid because they do not deserve it. In the face of that temptation to think we did it all ourselves, we are given the command to help the sojourner because we ourselves were once sojourners in need of help.

Colonialism

By Peter Schmiechen

On September 6, 2025

In Community

This spring I read the first two volumes of Rick Atkinson’s history of the Revolutionary War. By the 4^th of July I was ready to honor the sacrifice and courage of those who fought for independence. Their achievement is crucial for our attempt to affirm community in our time for two reasons: the first is that our nation was not founded on claims to land, race or religion, but allegiance to liberty and equality; the second is that whenever community is compromised, it is helpful to celebrate liberty and equality. Since these compromises are perennial, usually elevating people in ways relating to land, class/wealth, race and language, the American ideal requires continual renewal of hearts and minds to the very things at the heart of America, allegiance to liberty and equality. Given this, I find reading this history a profoundly spiritual exercise, wherein we are called again to own our heritage in the face of all manner of compromise.

This was a terrible war, preceded by a breakdown in relations between the King and those wanting independence. Before a shot was fired, the British governing class and military saw the rebels as ungrateful and disobedient. The colonists, by contrast, saw themselves as people who had created a new world by their invention and hard work, deserving equal status with citizens in England. They thought their life should be governed by the same values and rules at work in their home land. But things only get worse when people on both sides started being killed. Families were changed for the worse and women and children were on their own. The final stage of most wars is the destruction of property, mass burning of towns and ports, rape and pillage. In numerous cases it was official military policy to burn ports and cities along the coast for the purpose of punishing the rebels and destroying ports. One other thing running through all these reactions to the war: the Revolutionary War was a civil war. It divided families as well as neighbors. One of the sons of Benjamin Franklin remained a loyalist. One cannot imagine any restoration between the two sides except for the British evacuation. It is not surprising that many loyalists felt constrained to go to Canada or Nova Scotia or return to England.

One thing which caught my eye was the rigid stratification of people. The colonies were ruled by governors answerable to King, Parliament, and trading companies, supported by a ruling class of white men owning property. Then came the ranks of those not owning land but secure in their life as merchants, craftsmen, farmers and laborers. Women were of course part of all these classes, but dependent on men by marriage and family.

There were two other groups in this colonial world of great importance. One was the native people of North America, who were continually pushed westward toward the wilderness as white settlements expanded. This produced a sad and violent history. In the recent War with the French, some tribes sided with the French but in the new war for Independence, some sided with the British against the colonies. The western regions were terrorized by violence which included killing, torture and scalping. The killing of whites in upstate New York and Pennsylvania was so brutal that Washington sent an army to the region for the purpose of destroying Indian villages, food supplies and crops. Reading these parts gives one the impression that a basic pattern was set: either native Americans were to accept western expansion and occupation of their land or die.

The other group was black Africans. It is estimated that there were 500,000 black Africans in the colonies in 1776, with roughly 450,000 enslaved. While the majority were in the southern colonies, (e.g., Maryland had about 63,000 and Virginia had about 163,000), there were about 4,700 in Massachusetts, 19,000 in New York and 5,500 in Pennsylvania. In other words, all the colonies participated in the practice of slavery.

What we have then in each colony is a rather volatile set of social, economic and political relations. The idyllic perspective of Europeans coming to America for the freedom to forge their identity and fortune, or even coming for religious freedom, tends to obscure the tensions. In actuality the colonists of 1776 were subject to the demands of trading companies, Parliament and King. The increase in taxes (dare I use the word tariffs) and the desire for more profits by the trading companies increased the demand for more workers (white settlers or slaves). This in turn implied more land, which in turn triggered more troubles with native Americans. The King in turn needed more money to pay for the military to keep peace on the frontiers and to deal with ancient hostilities between Great Britain, France and Spain. When the navy could not recruit sailors, men were pressed into service by force. So, we have the strange contradiction: the founders began talking of equality of all people when everyone knew that was not the case: slaves were not free and serious divisions existed between landowners and common people as well as men and women. It was not a good time to either raise taxes or talk about taxation without representation.

As one works one’s way through two volumes (a third is yet to come), one begins to sense that the real problem between the rebels and the Crown was that the majority of the colonists were English. To be sure, they did not live in London or Birmingham, but they thought they were subjects of King George and ought to be treated as citizens equal to their relatives throughout Great Britain. When you read the list of charges against the King and his government in the Declaration of Independence, one gets the sense of profound disappointment and even betrayal. These practices are not things you do to English citizens. But the King, Parliament and Trading Companies saw very little wrong in treating colonies that way. They thought colonists were different. Being colonists changed their status and created a world where many things were permitted, not just repression of indigenous peoples and designation of Africans as slaves.

In this sense the war was about freedom from oppressive colonial structures. This is not new or surprising, since we have been told this since grade school. But here is something to think about: the irony of the American Revolution is that while it threw off allegiance to an oppressive King, the founders basically maintained far too many aspects of the colonial world view and structures, thereby determining that the new nation would in fact be a colonial nation in law and spirit.

How so? Well, let’s take the most obvious example, slavery. There has always been agreement on the great achievement of the founders, but in my lifetime we have gone from a begrudging admission that slavery compromised that achievement to a full acceptance that slavery was an outright contradiction and regrettably laid the basis for a century of conflict. This is very difficult to deal with and is usually treated as some sort of enigma or paradox at the personal level (e.g., Jefferson) or a political compromise to gain votes for the union (e.g., Adams). In both cases they appeared to know their achievement was flawed but were unable to avoid it. It should be noted that we are now confronted with an administration which wishes to reject all that talk of compromise and the history of injustice involved before and after the Civil War, all for the sake of a more positive view of our history.
A second obvious example where the colonial world view persisted was the acquisition of land. Recall that England, like its European neighbors, assumed that each nation could claim land by force or purchase. And I must admit that it was often justified for religious reasons. Called colonies, such lands were expected to produce natural resources, manufactured products for trading companies and function as military outposts for political interests. Apparently the ability to do this was part of the divine right of kings and was somehow transferred to the newly formed government. So, Jefferson’s approval of the Louisianna Purchase in 1803 ushered in over a century of land acquisition by war or purchase of Florida, the large southwestern region from Spain and the northwest region from England, Alaska in 1867, then an attempt to gain and hold Cuba, Puerto Rico, Guam and the Philippines from Spain, and the annexation of Hawaii in 1889 and the Virgin Islands in 1917. How does a nation wishing to loosen the bonds of colonial structures take over so many territories and lands, all with indigenous peoples?

Just as theories about land acquisition extended into the 20^th century, the colonial mindset regarding cheap labor also extended to the present time. Black slavery arose to meet this need and was justified by all sorts of theories. In theory, emancipation was supposed to change that, but Jim Crow laws, segregation and election laws worked to make movement toward freedom a slow process, especially since it was vigorously opposed by white supremacists and actual law.

Another important but limited example of bringing into the country low cost workers was the reliance on Chinese workers to build the trans-continental railroad in the 1860’s. Then came waves of European immigrants who met the need of cheap labor, but in most cases did not become a permanent under-class.

The long history of immigrants from Hispanic countries to the south presents a very different and complex history. Most of the immigrants came to America for asylum, work or opportunity for new life. The Pew Research Center estimated that there were 14 million immigrants without legal status in the US in 2023. They have found work in major sectors of the economy: construction, agriculture, food processing, manufacturing and the service sector. This creates an unusual development: since their work is essential to the total economy and there does not appear to be replacements, governments at local and state levels have not been quick to send them home. But since they do not have legal status, they are in no position to object to their living conditions. The result is that they have become a permanent underclass offering cheap labor, which means there is not much incentive for governments to improve their situation.

Many are of the view that the solution must involve a path to citizenship, for the sake of these long-suffering people as well as the restoration of the principle of equality and the hope tied to the American dream of welcoming immigrants. That makes sense since the vast majority of these people came for political asylum, work and a way to improve their lives. Citizenship would break with the colonial past of subordinating some as a sub-class of cheap labor. But it would require extending to these immigrants fair housing, education and health programs, which in the current political climate is a major challenge

In recent years the compromise of the principles of liberty and equality over slavery has been called our original sin. As a theologian, I find this comment insightful. Original sin, in the logic of Christian doctrine, refers to an act and a state of being. The act was the decision to enslave and transport humans from Africa to the colonies. But this became a policy as well as the acceptance by the majority of people in the colonies to live with this inhumane practice. In other words, slavery consisted of a specific act but it soon became embedded in the culture and laws of the land. Moreover, by 1776 it was so out of control that the founders had to compromise their understanding of equality of all people in order to gain support for the new Constitution.

In this essay I am asking that you expand your understanding of that original sin. Slavery was part of something much larger, namely, colonialism. This was the original sin: that the King and trading companies and colonists could take the land by force, dispel by force indigenous peoples, bring over slaves, and use the land with one thought in mind, namely return on investments. It is frightening to consider how the Founders rejected the idea that King and aristocrats possessed the entitlement to arbitrarily rule over others, but then to find that the Founders transferred such entitlements to themselves, claiming the right to take other people’s land or enslave people. While the Civil War finally rejected this idea, holding people in a subordinate status was then recast as segregation and written into all sorts of laws denying liberty and equality. That willingness to deny the humanity of people reappears in the creation of a permanent underclass of immigrants providing cheap labor. It also continues to appear in the exclusion and subordination of women—another group excluded from full equality in the founding documents.

Running through our history is the question: Who belongs? If the answer is not certain people defined by race, religion or class, it would appear that the answer is those who love liberty and equality. But history shows many answers have been given, some being the source of great pride in our nation, but others revealing great sorrow. Apparently we are continually tempted to forsake liberty and equality. It may well be that some, like white nationalists, never made such a commitment.

It is absolutely necessary that our re-telling of our history include the acknowledgement of those original sins, not to wound or make people feel bad, but because allegiance to America involves repentance as well as loyalty. No one expressed this better than Abraham Lincoln in the Gettysburg Address. What happened at Gettysburg was a call to re-commit to the original ideal: a national founded on liberty and equality. But now we are confronted with those who refuse to speak of the contradictions, or how very destructive ideas like colonialism have impacted our history. Prohibiting certain speech and banning books are openly affirmed. But you cannot cover up or deny the truth of our history. Any attempt to do that only makes things worse, since in such a case you compound the original problem by proposing that we tell what is not true. We can only affirm the greatness of our history by accepting the whole truth. One can only get to the truth by going through the hard truths in our history. That is very challenging work but it is the only way to overcome the things which would destroy us. If you want a text to understand this, then remember that only the truth can set us free.

Lent: The Power of the Story of Jesus

By Peter Schmiechen

On February 13, 2025

In Family, Grace, Theology

When I was a kid, Lent was a very special time. This is the church season that lasts for forty days leading up to Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week and ending in Easter. Back then, we did not practice Anointing with Ashes on Ash Wednesday, that was something Catholics did. But we had to go to church every Wednesday evening for six weeks. As I remember, it was a communal celebration of the story of Jesus. He was always at the center doing things like healing the sick, teaching, telling stories and getting into trouble. Around him were his disciples and lots of people who wanted to follow him, but kept doing the wrong things. Then there were people who did not like what Jesus was doing and last but not least there were Romans who were in charge with lots of soldiers. A great cast of characters.

So every Sunday and Wednesday my Dad, the preacher, would present some episode of Jesus interacting with one or more of these people. Some of them, like the disciples, seemed to want to follow him but could never get things straight and did the wrong things. James and John wanted to do the right thing, but then asked to rule over people and Jesus really scolded them. Late in the story Peter denied knowing Jesus and Judas betrayed Jesus, who was eventually arrested and crucified. As a congregation of listeners, we were asked to see ourselves in this story and learn something about good and bad, but especially see the contrast between Jesus and all these characters. So in one case we might learn about the selfish son who asked for his inheritance and went away only to lose it all and end up tending pigs. That’s quite graphic. Or, as already mentioned, James and John had trouble getting the message. When they thought Jesus might come to worldly power, they wanted authority to rule over others. And of course there were bright spots where Jesus taught us how to pray, or told us what we needed to do to be blessed; like the merciful, or the pure in heart, or the peacemakers. The challenges were great, as in the story about the guy who had lots of money but loved it more than following Jesus. Then Jesus surprises us by saying it will be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God. As kids we were not sure what that meant, other than it sounded like our day-dreaming about being rich didn’t fit in with following Jesus. That became all the more clear as it became apparent that Jesus was faithful to God, even to the point of suffering and dying.

As communal theatre, we were brought into the story, identified with all sorts of characters, whether they were good or bad, loyal or disloyal. Each week we saw another form of virtue or human failing and we were put in the shoes of one of these figures. Sometimes it was about how things will work in the Kingdom of God. The parable of the laborers in the vineyard always provoked outrage. You may recall that this is the parable where workers start at different times of the day, but at day’s end, they all get the same pay. At Sunday dinner we argued about that because it wasn’t fair. I think Dad was glad we were arguing about something important but he had to tell us to stop fighting. Lost in all the yelling was the idea that in the Kingdom we are not treated as the world treats us according to very limited views of what a person deserves. What happened was that we learned by seeing ourselves in all the characters, wondering what we would have done and, if we were listening, what we would do now: will we be merciful, peacemakers and faithful.

I often think of those days—it wasn’t just the services but the time between them as well since the images were impressed on our minds. I think it all represented a different form of piety. As I mentioned, it was a very communal process. Being Christian meant being members of the congregation and that meant showing up for Lenten services. Faith meant being faithful to God in terms of following Jesus. Such faithfulness was always seen in the context of my family, consisting of a brother and sister, parents, grandmother and great aunt, structured around the life of a Protestant minister and the seasons of the church. But I also lived in another world which presented other kinds of challenges. Five days a week I went to a large grade school on the north side of Chicago, where the students were split between Catholics, Protestants and Jews. None of my friends at school or on the block where we lived belonged to our church. I walked the commercial streets and saw the bright lights of movie shows and commercial shops. When my friends and I walked past bars and looked through the open doors we wondered what it was like in there. I would take the L—the elevated train system—which ran through the backyards of very poor neighborhoods, I saw such crowded conditions which I could not comprehend. One summer I ventured farther from our neighborhood to a park on my bike, where I was knocked down by an older boy who then rode off with my bike. My Father was very upset and took me to the police station where it was duly recorded but I never saw the bike again. When he mentioned this at church I was surprised to find I was some kind of hero. The event heightened the difference between the larger world and our church life, especially the intense practice of Lent. There, portrayed for all to see, was the fidelity of Jesus suffering on the cross. It was fairly clear to an impressionable schoolboy that there was a difference between this message of the faithful Jesus and the messages received from the public world around me. At the time I had no idea how to resolve the tensions, but I knew they existed. Jesus made it clear that I was living in two worlds and that I could not serve two masters. What was not clear was how to resolve that and I guess I am still working on it

That world has changed in important ways. We all know about the decline of organized religion, the closing of churches and loss of members. But consider some major changes in the way we think about religion. One is that for many people, the practice of religion is an individual matter, involving a single person and God. Or as is often said: “I’m interested in spirituality.” What this can mean is that individuals use worship and the resources of organized religion to support and strengthen their personal life. It is not a matter of building up the church and its mission, even if one goes to church now and then. Religion is to support my personal journey and, as a result, one selects those things that will benefit my spiritual development. So I hear a lot of journey talk: we are all on a journey, seldom together, and church is there to help you make your way. Why is this a problem? Well, for one thing, when the focus shifts to the individual’s journey, then participating in a congregation struggling to exist in a crazy world becomes less important. For another, the person on the journey is in charge. He/she is no longer called to be a follower and take up the way of Jesus, but to select from a market place of religious practices what he or she needs and wants.

Images of being on a journey are very common and appear across the religious spectrum. Some of them are good: they allow us to connect with people by respecting differences between people and where they are at. People find themselves at different places along the journey of life. And of course the most famous devotional book in Protestantism is Pilgrim’s Progress, which conceives the life of faith as, guess what: a journey. My concern about the term is that it isolates believers from one another. You have your journey and I have mine. Most important, I fear it tends to view Jesus as the teacher/guide along the way who provides aid and points to the way. When this happens, it minimizes the broad affirmation that Jesus is more than a travel guide, but the one who transforms us and joins us into a new spiritual life that is best described as new life in him. This explains the preference for talking about rebirth and how Jesus is living water or the bread of life. If you want some backup for this, consider the work of E. P. Sanders, who concludes that the most distinctive theme in Paul’s writings in the New Testament is that of participation in Christ. In other words, Christian faith is about being part of the life of Christ and that means participating in the community of Christ. Another helpful reference would be William Evans’ study of the Reformed tradition (i.e., Protestants influenced by John Calvin rather than Martin Luther). He concludes that the distinctive thing about this tradition is being united with Christ, and that union involves the community of Christ. Now, I don’t want to overdo this. There is a place for each believer to ask about the state of his/her soul, to consider ways in which the gifts of Christ change, support and elevate the individual. In the gospels, Jesus does and says things that speak to that all the time. But it is always in the context of taking up one’s cross and following Jesus.

Let me put it this way: for several decades, books on purpose have been very popular in prompting people to bust out of confinement to narrow or negative goals. But whose purpose and what purpose are we talking about. Is purpose just a psychological concept to help people expand their vision or improve their lives according to our cultural standards—some of which are the source of our problems? Our culture associates happiness with acquiring more things, making more money and moving up the social ladder, with little regard for whether this leaves lots of people with little access to such goals. So when we talk about purposes or goals, which goals do we have in mind? Those of the Kingdom or those of a consumer driven world? By contrast, I understand the gospel to be a call to be transformed by the grace of God, not a self-help strategy.

In an article in the New York Times, David Brooks discussed how people use personal stories to define themselves. He then asked “Yet if the quality of our self-stories is so important, where do we go to learn the craft of self-narration? Shouldn’t there be some institution that teaches us to revise our stories through life, so we don’t have to suffer for years and wind up in therapy?” (3) Is not the answer to the question, for Jews and Christians, the synagogue and the church? Let’s unpack that. First, by this I mean that our self-stories reflect interests, values and commitments we inherit and create by ourselves. They may embody what is good about our culture and our lives, but they also embody some of the bias, self-interest and corruptions of a broken world. If this is so, the question then becomes: by what norms and standards are we going to evaluate our self-stories? What is needed is a new point of departure to enable us to move beyond our culture wars and social-political alignments. Unless this happens, the craft of evaluating our self-stories does not produce much change because we are confined to private bubbles, claiming innocence and repeating the same old stories without a new point of departure.

Lent offers something quite different. By hearing the story of Jesus we are confronted with the fact that we still have not resolved the tensions between the Rule of God and the ways of the world, with all its brokenness, violence and warfare. What Lent declares is that Christianity is not a three step program or a process we manage. It is a crisis. And it is created by Jesus when he tells us we can’t serve two masters. We must choose. The choice is between repentance and trust in God in contrast to some combination of our values and the powers of the world. Now here’s the hard part: Repentance as turning to God and trusting the Rule of God are not a work that earns us salvation. Salvation is a gift. That’s why the story of Jesus is a call to lose your old life and be born again, or to center your life not in the world’s ways but in Christ. In the end, the choice is to receive life by grace.

(1)Cf. E.P. Sanders, The Historial Figure of Jesus, (London: Penguin, 1993).

(2)Cf. William B. Evans, Imputation and Impartation: Union with Christ in American Reformed Theology, (Eugene, OR., Wipf and Stock, 2008).

(3) Cf. David Brooks, “Self-Awareness May Be Just a Mirage,” New York Times, September 16, 2021, A23.