Long Way Here

When the apostle Paul begged God to heal him from whatever it was in his life that caused him trouble–something he believed to be a weakness–he shares (in 2 Corinthians 12:9) God’s reply: “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” Paul went on to say, “So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.”

It is in our weakness that God’s power is made evident. But admitting weakness requires vulnerability and vulnerability requires humility–two commitments society doesn’t value very much. For those who have confessed loyalty to the Christ of Christmas, we know the power of vulnerability. We know that God came to us by the way of weakness in the Christ-child. We know that humility is what makes liberation and transformation possible.

Vulnerability and humility make God’s power possible in our lives.

So I can accept that I am not the end-all be-all. I can recognize that I have far less control than I think. I can recognize that my way of life isn’t always God’s priority. I can realize that I, a White male born in the USA, was born on third base and for too long believed I hit a triple. I can realize that my defensiveness to that statement is a sign that I am grieving a sense of entitlement I have long enjoyed, and times are finally and justly changing. I can remember that humility is the doorway to liberation, for myself and others.

I can remember that God is at work and keeps his promises, because the Advent of the Christ happened just as God promised.

“He was created by a Mother whom He created. He was carried by hands that he formed.”

Augustine of Hippo (354-430)

During the Christmas season I am reminded that we are invited to see how God operates outside of how we think power works. We are invited to see that God reigns not by taking absolute control of everything, but by emptying God’s self and making self-giving love the kind of power that liberates. We are invited to see that God is saving the world through the Christ-child who came by the way of vulnerability and grew up to become the suffering servant spoken of by Isaiah (53).

But society does not seem to understand vulnerability. It is rejected as weak and laughed at. It is misunderstood.

Tragically, many who confess loyalty to the Christ of Christmas reject this invitation to see. Instead, some choose the way that mimics the violence, fear, and bravado of society. Some call it being masculine. Others say it’s about being bold and strong. But what does the Christ-child, who grew up full of grace and truth and became the suffering servant for all, say?

“Follow me.”

“In order to build the movements capable of transforming our world, we have to do our best to live with one foot in the world we have not yet created. I believe unhealed trauma is the most dangerous force on earth. It’s the mechanism through which violence and cruelty and greed reproduce.”

This quote from Aurora Levins Morales, from her incredible collection of essays called, Medicine Stories (one of my favorite books), is one of my favorite quotes. It reminds me of the unpredictable, indiscriminate nature of trauma and the harm unhealed trauma creates. It also reminds me of resilience and hope.

From a Christian perspective, it reminds me that I must choose to have “one foot” planted in the new age that has broken into this old one by the arrival of Christ the King.

The old is passing away.

New creation has begun.

An alternative future of new possibilities await us.

We do not have to be purposeful in harming others to do harm to others. All we must possess is a lack of compassion, empathy, and relational-boundaries. Even when I feel I am at my best I can do my worst. Compassion, empathy and relational-boundaries govern the actions of love. If I lack these commitments, I allow my love to become disordered and dis-regulated, and not resemble love at all.

“This is how we know love: Jesus laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. But if someone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but refuses to help—how can the love of God dwell in a person like that? Little children, let’s not love with words or speech but with action and truth.”
1 John 3:16-18

“Don’t be in debt to anyone, except for the obligation to love each other. Whoever loves another person has fulfilled the Law. The commandments, Don’t commit adultery, don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t desire what others have, and any other commandments, are all summed up in one word: You must love your neighbor as yourself. Love doesn’t do anything wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is what fulfills the Law.” Romans 13:8-10

 “I’ve given them the glory that you gave me so that they can be one just as we are one. ²³ I’m in them and you are in me so that they will be made perfectly one. Then the world will know that you sent me and that you have loved them just as you loved me.” ~ Jesus, John 17:22-23

“Therefore, as a prisoner for the Lord, I encourage you to live as people worthy of the call you received from God. ² Conduct yourselves with all humility, gentleness, and patience. Accept each other with love,³ and make an effort to preserve the unity of the Spirit with the peace that ties you together.” ~ Paul, Ephesians 4:1-3

A faith community that takes hospitality (philoxenia) seriously is never comfortable. They are committed to doing the hard work of drawing close to “the other,” despite fear and vulnerability. They resist the urge to side-step the disruption of transformation with desperate calls for unity. Instead, they step forward into the fray of injustice and suffering. They join marginalized neighbors in their struggle for dignity, worth, and empowerment. They believe that unity is the *outcome* of solidarity with those pressed down by injustice, not conformity to a cultural Christianity committed to the comfort of “not causing division.” Unity is the *outcome* of Christ-like, cross-shaped, resurrection-believing love.

Jesus’ prayer for unity will be difficult to answer if Jesus’ people are unwilling to take philoxenia seriously.