It’s an election year, apparently. I’ve noticed the sprouting yard signs and the increasing emotional urgency in political conversations. The internets buzz with people making their case and stomping their virtual feet.
As a follower of Jesus this season makes me tired. Everyone seems to have expectations and obligations for me; commitments that I have never signed up for.
In the course of a single week, for example, I had two different Facebook friends make essentially the same claim. One was lamenting an action of the President that they disapproved of, commenting that they couldn’t imagine how any Christian could vote for a Democrat ever again. My other friend, frustrated with a bill that was passed in congress, declared that it was inconceivable how anyone who took the Bible seriously could possibly vote for a Republican.
I’m told there’s a culture war on. Also a war on Christians. Possibly a war on women. Certainly a war against Our Way Of Life. As a Christian, and as a pastor, I am expected to march in this war.
Wave the flags as much as you like. This is a war I’m not coming to. I am officially declaring my status as a Conscientious Objector in the culture war.
The backyard was loud with the crazy near-chaos of my 6-year-old daughter’s birthday party. Children running and chasing. Balls flying. Little voices chattering, laughing, bossing. A crowd bouncing on the trampoline. Jackson, the 8-month old puppy was adding his own exuberance to the noise, while the adults were chatting and laughing on the patio. It was exactly what a birthday party should be like.
This is the myth that does the most damage. The body count is enormous—marriages ended, relationships broken, churches split and destroyed—all because people with influence were unwilling to stop and look at the uncomfortable emotions they are feeling.
Try something for me. Wherever you are right now—at your computer, or iPad or iPhone—look away from the screen. If there’s a mirror there, all the better. Take stock of how you feel, and then when you’re ready say this sentence:
There is one particular story in the life of Jesus that was really uncomfortable for the little church I grew up in. It’s found in every one of the Gospels, so it wasn’t possible to ignore. Something about the story was powerful and important, but something else was a bit uncomfortable. The story? Jesus throwing a temper tantrum in the temple, ejecting the merchants and kicking over the table. OK… maybe it wasn’t a temper tantrum.
As I sat through speaker after speaker at the conference, one question kept surfacing for me. If the need is this demonstrably urgent, and the Bible is so plainly clear about God’s heart for the cause of the needy, why isn’t there a flood of Christians giving their time, talents, and resources?
I spent Friday evening and all day Saturday at the 
