Speaking a Wor(l)d of Truth: Proclamation as Peacebuilding

The following is the text of my speech from the annual C. Henry Smith Peace Oratorical Contest at Bluffton University. The contest took place on March 28th, and my speech earned first place.

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"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me...[God] has anointed me to bring good news to the poor...to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor" (Luke 4.18-19 NRSV).  Luke 4 depicts the inauguration of Christ’s ministry; Jesus boldly unrolls the Isaiah scroll and at once proclaims the gospel, exposes the bankrupt system of the world, and liberates all people. In this text and throughout Scripture, word is inseparable from action. The Word has become flesh, and the words proclaimed by this embodied Word do the concrete work of unbinding captives, restoring sight to the blind, and liberating the oppressed (Luke 4.18). At the center of the Christian faith stands this claim, that the proclamation of a true word is a catalyst for the concrete transformation of the world— thus, proclamation is an act of peacebuilding. And this task of proclaiming peace has been entrusted to you and me, who have been commanded by Christ to "go into all the world and proclaim the good news" (Mark 16.15). As a biblical studies major and peace and conflict studies minor, my academic interests and my call as a Christian peacebuilder stand at this intersection between Scripture and shalom, proclamation and peacebuilding. Tonight I would like to invite you to consider with me this radical claim that the act of proclaiming peace is truly a locus of peacebuilding.

First, I will establish the connection between word and action, proclamation and peacebuilding. Second, I will expose the contrasting proclamations of the world and the gospel, which constantly compete for our allegiance. And third, I hope you will join me in celebrating places in our global community where words of peace truly have created a world of peace. For as we proclaim the gospel of Christ, our true words make manifest the true world of God's peaceable kingdom.

First, let us examine the relationship between word and action, recognizing that to speak peace is to build peace. According to Paulo Freire, a word is the interplay between "reflection and action," and these two elements must be held in tension. He argues that "to speak a true word is to transform the world.”  Thus, for Freire, proclamation presupposes praxis; to proclaim peace is to practice peace and vice versa.

Walter Brueggemann also addresses the intimate connection between word and action, emphasizing the relationship in Scripture between the spoken word and the created world. In his book The Prophetic Imagination, he argues that "all social reality...spring[s] fresh from the word.”  For this reason, the content of our proclamation becomes the context in which we live. And according to Brueggemann, it is the prophetic peacebuilder’s responsibility to legitimate a radical alternative to the proclamation of the empire, in turn bringing forth a new world.

Peacebuilding scholar Lisa Schirch asserts that transforming worldviews is the key to changing the world for peace, since the way we understand the world directly impacts the way we act and react in situations of conflict.  Therefore, this task of proclaiming Christ’s gospel of peace as a legitimate and radical alternative is essential; for if we are to transform conflict, we first must transform minds for peace.

We see this intimate connection between word and action, proclamation and peacebuilding, in Christ's own words in Luke 4. Jesus proclaims release to the captives (Luke 4.18) and speaks healing, just as God created the universe by the nonviolent power of the word. As Christian peacebuilders, we are commanded to do the same-- to go into the world and proclaim the gospel, at once transforming the world for peace.

Next, if we are serious about speaking words of peace, we must understand the contrasting proclamations of the world and the gospel. For many of us, the proclamation of the world invades our mind before our feet hit the floor each morning. Our alarms go off, we grab our smart phones, and with one touch the headlines echo in our ears. Death and destruction, violence and fear, power and politics. We call this proclamation news, but do we call it gospel? As I wrestled with this question, I created a Wordle,  or a visual representation, of five of last week's top news stories on CNN.  Word size is determined by frequency, so this literally paints a picture of the world's proclamation.

What does this tell us about the world in which we live? Let's examine the largest words, the words that appeared most frequently in last week's headlines: “Zimmerman, House & Senate, shooting, police, PTSD, [and] soldiers.” Here we have the name of a man who killed an unarmed African-American teenager, surrounded by a cloud of power, fear, and violence. This is the proclamation of the world, a hegemonic rhetoric of death and power, filled with facts but void of truth.

In contrast, this is a Wordle of Isaiah 61.1-3 and Luke 4.16-19 (TNIV), two texts that are central to the prophetic call to proclamation. This image represents the radical alternative of a truly biblical worldview. Here we see the words "proclaim, LORD, Spirit, instead, good news, annointed, freedom, [and] favor." Friends, this is a radical subversion of the world’s rhetoric of death. At the center of this proclamation stands the name of the Creator and the invitation to proclaim the gospel as the "instead"—the alternative— to oppression, death, and violence.  As Christian peacebuilders, we might be surrounded by the empire’s rhetoric of death, but we are nourished by and called to proclaim this life-giving rhetoric called gospel. Tonight, we are faced with this challenge: which word will we proclaim? Which world will we create?

With this in mind, I would like to turn now to one example in our global community where words of peace truly have built a world of peace. In the midst of the rhetoric of violence and nationalism surrounding the U.S. war in Iraq, just this month here at Bluffton the proclamation of our Iraqi international students truly did build a new world of peace; as they vulnerably and courageously shared their experiences of the war on a student panel, the power of their words broke down barriers and built the understanding necessary to pursue the common goal of shalom. Let me be clear that as a citizen of the United States, their stories were not easy to hear, and I left with a new sense of responsibility for the ways in which my nation's actions have devastated the lives of my friends at Bluffton and around the world.

But despair did not have the last word that evening. At one particularly powerful moment, a student from the United States asked the panel what their dreams were for the future of Iraq. In unison, the Iraqi students replied, "Peace." A bold word of hope confronting the seemingly hopeless world of violence. In that moment, proclamation and peacebuilding were one and the same. This is the task of proclamation according to Walter Brueggemann— to expose the status quo and propose a radical alternative, to dismantle the imperial rhetoric of death and legitimize the new rhetoric of God’s kingdom— words of life, words of peace, words of hope.

In closing, may we always remember that to speak a word of peace is to build a world of peace. Recognizing the undeniable connection between word and action, may we embrace Christ's call to proclamation as a call to peacebuilding. Striving to subvert the hegemonic rhetoric of empire, may we always choose to proclaim the radical alternative of Christ's peace. And celebrating the places where proclamation truly has created a world of peace, may we always have hope.

Go in peace, knowing that the world has been transformed by the true words spoken in this place. Go in peace, trusting that Christ's word of life holds greater power than the world of death. Go in peace, to proclaim a world of peace. Amen and thank you.

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Works cited

Barrett, Ted and Deirdre Walsh. “Standoff in Congress threatens highway construction funding.”  No pages. Cited 22 March 2012. Online: http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/21/politics/congress-transportation-bill/index.html?npt=NP1

Brueggemann, Walter. The Prophetic Imagination. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 2001.

CNN Wire Staff. “Sanford, Florida, police chief steps aside ‘temporarily’ in fallout from teen’s  death.” No pages. Cited 22 March 2012. Online:  http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/22/justice/florida-teen-shooting/index.html?hpt=us_c1 .

Djau, Umaro. “Renegade soldiers declare power seizure in Mali.” No pages. Cited 22 March 2012.  Online:http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/22/world/africa/mali-suspected-coup/index.html?hpt=hp_t3

Feinberg, Jonathan. “Wordle.” No pages. Cited 22 March 2012. Online: http://www.wordle.net/

Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum, 2010.

Schirch, Lisa. Ritual and Symbol in Peacebuilding. Bloomfield, CT: Kumarian, 2005.

Shaughnessy, Larry. “Army reviewing PTSD evaluation program.” No pages. Cited 22 March 2012.  Online: http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/21/us/army-ptsd-evaluation-program/index.html?hpt=us_c2

Verello, Dan. “Occupiers clash with police in New York; 6 arrested.” No pages. Cited 22 March  2012. Online: http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/21/justice/new-york-occupyarrests/index.html?hpt=us_c2

on darkness

I just ran across the text of my chapel talk from the Women’s Studies chapel at Bluffton University back in March and thought I would share it with anyone who might be interested!

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Today as we explore the theme of wholeness, I would like start with a conversation about what it means for us to experience seasons of darkness and doubt on the journey of faith. As I read verse 12 of Psalm 139, listen for the echoes of your own voice, questions, and doubts in these words of Scripture:

Even the darkness is not dark to you;

The night is as bright as the day,

For darkness is as light to you.

As I was reading Psalm 139 and thinking about our theme today of wholeness, I was immediately drawn to the phrase, “darkness is as light to you.” My first thought was, “No, God, today’s theme is WHOLENESS, not DARKNESS!” So I read the passage again. And again.

And I ended up back where I began:

Darkness is as light to you.

Since I couldn’t escape it, I decided I might as well embrace it. So, darkness.

Have you ever been there?

I have been. This year has been, in a sense, a dark one for me. Those of you who know me know that I love to ask questions. As a religion major, I have been equipped to ask big questions…you know, the dangerous ones. Is God real? Does truth exist? Can I trust God? Is it really possible to live faithfully? At times, I have found myself in places where doubt overshadowed faith and darkness seemed to drown out the light.

But our Scripture today tells us that DARKNESS is as LIGHT to God.

What does this mean when we find ourselves in times of doubt and darkness?

First, it means that experiences of darkness are TO BE EXPECTED on the journey of faith. The psalmist here isn’t afraid to ask questions of God, and she affirms that darkness is part of the journey. In fact, darkness is an opportunity to have faith and trust that God is indeed our guide and God sees only light.

Second, it’s important to note that the psalmist says that darkness is as light TO GOD, not to you and me. When we experience a time of doubt and darkness, it is NOT our job to see, find, or somehow create the light. Our faith should never be fake—real doubt is far better than false joy, because thankfully the light of God does not depend on us. For this reason, when darkness comes—and the psalmist tells us that it will come—we can trust that God sees the light even when we can’t, and that is enough.

Third, it seems significant that this verse paves the way for the most popular portion of Psalm 139. It serves as the prelude for the resounding praise of God as our Creator, that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” You see, the psalmist’s questions and doubts and struggles…the psalmist’s experience of darkness…is but one step on her journey, the journey that each of us are traveling—towards wholeness and restoration. Towards healing through God’s radical grace. And friends, the final destination of this journey is not darkness, but the praise of the God who created both light and darkness.

In my own journey this year, this has been the case. God has led me, like the psalmist, from darkness to light and from doubt to praise. I have asked the hard questions, engaged the times of darkness, and trusted in the God who guides me and sees light when I see only darkness. In spite of my feelings and my doubts, I have continued to pray, attend chapel, go to church, and study Scripture. It is all too easy to put these things aside, but I believe that our willingness to actively seek God in the midst of all of our questions and doubts is key to allowing God to lead us from seasons of darkness into seasons of abundant praise.

Another important aspect of my own journey towards wholeness has been community. We talk a lot about community here at Bluffton, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence; as it turns out, these people sitting next to you are a gift of God on this journey toward wholeness. In seasons of darkness and seasons of light, I have found listening ears, warm hugs, lots of laughter, and genuine support from my friends and professors in the Bluffton community. In some of my darkest moments, these people—many of you here worshipping with me today—have spoken the words of God into my life when I could not hear God’s voice for myself. That is true community— trusting one another and God enough to be real, to be vulnerable, and to let the light of God shine through others when we can’t see it for ourselves.

This is my prayer for our community today and every day as we think about what it means for us to journey together toward wholeness—that we would be a community that takes the words of Psalm 139 seriously and acknowledges that darkness is a beautiful and essential part of wholeness. A community that doesn’t buy into the lie that our faithfulness is measured by our ability to see the light. A community that is built on mutual honesty, trust, and encouragement in times of darkness and times of light. A community that celebrates the fact that the journey of wholeness is not to be traveled alone.

GC 12 day five: reflections on the struggle for justice

Today I was reminded that the work of justice in the church and the world is indeed a struggle. After four days of extraordinary hope, today was a disappointing one for a two particular reasons. First, I had the experience of witnessing the Faith & Order subcommittee vote to approve stronger language restricting ordination to individuals whose sexuality is expressed only within the boundaries of “marriage between one man and one woman.” Of course, this language would restrict non-celibate LGBTQ individuals from seeking ordination; however, it would also restrict all candidates for ministry—gay, straight, and everything in between—who are (and possibly even who have been) sexually active outside the context of marriage. I wholeheartedly believe that we must hold our clergy to high standards of integrity, but the addition of this particular language would be an unfortunate—not to mention unenforceable—addition to our Book of Discipline. As this comes before the plenary, it will be one fascinating piece of legislation to watch!

Next, tonight the General Administration committee (in which I have been serving as a legislative coordinator for the Common Witness Coalition) completed its four days of work on the denominational restructuring proposals by sending exactly no restructuring legislation to the plenary floor. Today was a long day in subcommittee—8am until 9:30pm, to be exact—and the GA committee worked an extra (and extremely chaotic) half hour with the permission of the General Secretary of the General Conference. The rules of General Conference state that any legislation which has not been voted on by 9:30pm on the last day of committee is considered unfinished, but in this situation (just restructuring the entire church, you know…no big deal), the committee was given permission to take one final vote. However, at the end of the night—after watching legislative and political mass chaos erupt—all three restructuring proposals were voted down by the committee. Two things about this situation were especially disappointing to me—first, young adult and Central Conference delegates had worked all day in subcommittee on amendments to Plan B, and this work was dismissed by the committee as a whole. These delegates— both young and global voices—represent the vitality to which the Call to Action is supposedly calling us. But at the end of the day, the voices of vitality and diversity did not have the final (or any) say in the restructuring of our great church—the voices of power did. Finally, this experience called into question the value of parliamentary procedure in the life of the church, something for which I am typically a strong advocate. While I have always appreciated parliamentary procedure as a structure that provides both equality and efficiency, in General Administration tonight that was not the case; instead, it functioned as a structure through which those in power stalled the process, silenced the body, and stayed in power.

After this long day, General Conference rolls on. I am humbled by this opportunity to better understand this church I love—this beautiful and broken people of God. But most of all, I am humbled by this opportunity to enter into the struggle for justice and for the inclusion of all voices—not only the voices of the powerful—in The United Methodist Church.

GC 12 day four: learning solidarity

Last night was a powerful night of solidarity for the Common Witness Coalition. First, during plenary session, Mark Miller--one of the most gifted worship leaders in The United Methodist Church-- took a point of privilege on the floor of the plenary to express the brokenness and hurt he has felt as an openly gay man taking part in some of the conversations around human sexuality at General Conference. Before he was ruled out of order, he invited LGBTQA individuals to stand with him in plenary hall, and coalition members and others stood in solidarity with Mark within and beyond the bar.

After plenary and closing worship, the Common Witness Coalition held a silent demonstration at the doors of plenary hall. Hundreds of us, wearing rainbow stoles, joined hands and formed a silent—silenced—tunnel at both exits. Delegates and bishops, church members and visitors walked by us as they left the hall for the evening; some ignored us, but many also spoke words of blessing and words of prayer. A few people hugged and prayed over each of us, and many joined hands and stood with us. Once everyone had left the hall, we broke our silence with a song— “we are all your sons and daughters, and we are singing, singing for our lives.”

As we joined in the Tabernacle for worship and conversation following the demonstration, around my table we discussed what it really means to be in solidarity with the LGBTQ community. Many of us were keenly aware that the silence of the demonstration eliminated any distinction between LGBTQ individuals and allies. Each of us who stood in the line truly stood in solidarity-- a radical posture of being with-- indistinguishable from the LGBTQ community. With this vulnerable posture of solidarity comes risk, especially for those of us seeking ordination in this church, and I was keenly aware of that as every bishop of The United Methodist Church walked past us. But I also had hope as some bishops joined us, standing in solidarity and entering into the silence. To be sure, there is risk involved in action, but the greatest risk is inaction and complicity to injustice and exclusion in the body of Christ.

GC 12 day three: order as identity: restructuring the body of Christ

The following is a blog I wrote for Methodist Federation for Social Action, the organization I am serving with here at General Conference.

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As the Young Adult Legislative Coordinator for General Administration, my day was spent in committee listening to presentations, discussion, and debate on the three restructuring proposals. Because these conversations are filled with complex language and business concerns, it is easy to forget that this work of restructuring our church is truly the work of reimagining who we are as the diverse people of God. So, with that being said, who will we choose to become? As one watching these conversations unfold, I would like to highlight two key questions of identity that I think are implicit in these proposals:

1) First, in the morning presentations on the three proposals, there was a significant contrast between an emphasis on life and death, especially between the Call to Action legislation and the MFSA plan. When the Call to Action team was asked by a Central Conference delegate if they had conducted research on the vital congregations of the Central Conferences, they answered that they had focused on the “declining, diseased” congregations in the United States. The MFSA team, on the other hand, emphasized dialogue with Central Conference delegates and a commitment to draw on the vitality that already exists in our church. Remembering the Episcopal Address by Bishop Weaver, my hope is that the new structure of The United Methodist Church will reflect not a fear of death, but our calling to be people of the “Resurrection Revolution,” living into Christ’s abundant gift of life.

2) Second, these decisions about structure are decisions about whose voices will be included and excluded in the leadership of the church—most significantly, the voices of the rapidly growing Central Conferences. The Call to Action legislation not only failed to study the vital congregations of the Central Conferences, it also fails to create abundant new spaces for these new people to serve as leaders of the denomination. The MFSA plan, however, proposes that 40% of general church leadership come from the Central Conferences. Furthermore, MFSA advocates for leadership from every region (Central Conference/Jurisdiction), in contrast to the language of “proportionality” of other plans, which—for example— could leave all of Europe with only one delegate. Seeking to become a church that welcomes all people, my hope is that we will order our life together in such a way that all voices are included and valued at the table.

As the committee work continues, I hope you will join me in praying not for one plan to prevail over another, but for the structure of our church to reflect who we are and who we are called to become as The United Methodist Church—the wholly inclusive, beautifully diverse body of Christ.

GC12 day two: tangible hope.

At the end of this second (long) day of General Conference, there is one word that I simply cannot get out of my mind:

Hope.

I am here in Tampa working with the Common Witness Coalition, a partnership of organizations working for the inclusion of all people in the life and leadership of The United Methodist Church. In addition to the events of the General Conference, our coalition holds events every day in the Love Your Neighbor Tabernacle. Now, “Tabernacle” is just a fancy title for a HUGE, air-conditioned tent (seating 300+) that sits across the street from the convention center. Each day in the Tabernacle, we enter into the rhythm of the life of God’s people across the ages—sharing meals, worshiping together, and gathering for fellowship and prayer. It is a sacred space—the heartbeat of this diverse, inclusive community that has come together not to change the church, but to become the church.

The abundantly and beautifully diverse Spirit of God has moved in the Tabernacle more times than I can count in the past two days—in conversations shared, songs lifted to our Creator, and communion offered to all by the radical grace of Christ. But the most incredible gift of my time at General Conference so far has been the experience of the diverse and inclusive Spirit of God outside the Tabernacle. First, this morning, as Amory Peck and Betty Spiwe Katiyo gave the Laity Address, we caught a glimpse of God’s vision for the church. The voices of these two women—one openly lesbian and one from Zimbabwe—formed the symphonic voice of the holy, wholly diverse people of God. Then, in my legislative committee, as votes were being counted, delegates from the Central Conferences spontaneously led us in worship in their first languages. And finally, tonight in closing worship, we heard the good news of Christ’s welcome for all people proclaimed by Bishop James King and sang together these words: “God will delight when we are creators of justice and joy, compassion and peace.”

Indeed, God is delighting as we are creators of justice and joy here in Tampa and all across the connection. The Spirit is moving, the joy is contagious, and the hope is tangible. But most of all, this gospel of love and inclusion cannot be contained to a tent—no matter how big it is! Thanks be to God!

GC12 day two: the tedious work of transformation

As I write this, I am currently sitting in the plenary of the General Conference of The United Methodist Church. On this second day of General Conference, the plenary has yet to set the rules of the conference as the body is still debating and amending them. Since I have arrived in Tampa, I have been constantly reminded of why we are the people called Methodist— we have a method for everything. Now, I have to admit that with every hour the General Conference debates the rules (thus falling behind in the work it will do by these rules), it seems more and more like our method has become our madness. But I want to argue that this is is not the case. In fact, I think these legislative shenanigans actually reflect of one of the gifts of The United Methodist Church:

We are a people who take seriously the implications of how we do all that we do.

Taking two days to set the rules and organization of the General Conference might seem ridiculous, but these rules will give shape to this legislative community for the next two weeks, which will in turn give shape to the global community of The United Methodist Church for the next quadrennium. This is a tedious task, but I think it is an important one. So, is the General Conference falling behind in its schedule? Absolutely. But a better question would be: is the General Conference wasting its time? I would argue that it is not— the organization of the top legislative body of The United Methodist Church is indicative of its identity and theological commitments. I am proud to call myself a member of this church that takes seriously the process—the rules—the tedious work of transformation. And because there is a method behind our madness, the conversation continues…

resurrecting church

[While I realize that this blog post is utterly impractical and gives little consideration to the realities of the church as an institution, I write as one who is convinced that Christ’s life, death, and resurrection were neither practical nor business-minded.]

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Just last week, we relived the radical story that stands at the center of who we are as the body of Christ: we visited the empty tomb, expecting to find the body of our Lord, but instead heard the good news of his resurrection. As a church, we joyously shouted the words that echo through the ages:

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!

But as I look around the church today, I have to wonder if we truly take the truth of the resurrection seriously. Have we really considered the implications of being a community for whom death has been overcome by the resurrection of Christ?

Honestly, I think we have forgotten who are as a resurrected people. In my own denomination, the rhetoric of death and decline has taken hold, and our discourse is driven not by the truth of resurrection, but by a paralyzing fear of death. We are so terrified of our demise as a church that we have closed our ears to the gospel of life.

And you see, the resurrection is not just about Jesus, it is also about us, the church, the body of Christ. Since the church is the body of Christ, when we shout “Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!” what we really mean is that we are risen, indeed.

The resurrection gives us a new way of talking about who we are and how we are as the people of God. And more than that, it gives us a new way of being the body of Christ. We are a risen people, not a dying people. To use language of death to describe the church is to deny the power of the resurrection. And while I understand the need to address the reality of our local churches and our global church, it is time that we start doing it in light of the empty tomb rather than in the darkness of the shadow of death.

Almost two thousand years ago, a few women found themselves staring into a tomb, fully prepared to tend to Christ’s dead body. Today, it feels to me like the leaders of my church are standing in the very same place, forgetting that there is more to our story than death.

“The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.’” [Luke 24.5-7 NRSV]

Why are we, as a church, looking for the living among the dead? Why have we forgotten that death is simply a precursor to new life, and that Christ’s resurrection is our own?

Friends, the body of Christ is risen. We, as the church, are a resurrected people. We can either live into that truth, or throw Jesus into the tomb again and roll the stone back into its place.

I hope we choose resurrection.

walking with God: an expository sermon on Micah 6.6-8

“With what shall I come before the LORD, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6.6-8 NRSV)

Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with God. These words are familiar to many of us, but what does it really mean to live this way? That is what I would like to explore with you—through the Holy Spirit—this afternoon. Although I grew up in a faith tradition that emphasizes social justice, when I came to Bluffton I encountered people whose lives were a more radical example of the justice, kindness, and humility that the prophet Micah is calling for. I met people who go on Christian Peacemaker Team delegations, literally putting their lives on the line to stand in solidarity with their brothers and sisters in Christ around the world. I met people who not only articulate, but embody, Christ’s call to enemy love. These examples were both compelling and overwhelming to me; I felt called to live a life of justice, kindness, and humility…but I knew that it wouldn’t be easy. In fact, I was pretty sure I couldn’t do it.

As it turns out, the people that Micah addresses in this passage were equally compelled and equally overwhelmed. God makes it clear in the first few chapters of Micah that God’s people need to clean up their act; they have been unfaithful, worshiping idols, abusing their military power, and distorting justice. But in chapter six, God’s people encounter God’s call—much like I did when I encountered people whose radical lives stretched my understanding of God’s call to a life of justice and peace. Through the prophet Micah, God invites God’s people to come home—to repent and live in righteousness. But much like me, God’s people are pretty sure this call is an impossible—or at least completely unreasonable—one.

So in verse six, we find them questioning God through the prophet Micah—

LORD God, how can I even approach you?

How could I possibly make things right?

Would everything I own be enough to deserve your love?

If I sacrifice my child to you, would you forgive me?

Can you hear the desperation?

With each question, the voices of God’s people become progressively more dramatic—they are desperate to be reconciled to God. They know they want to live out God’s call, but they know how hard it will be. So they propose a list of acts of piety and ritual holiness that become ever more extreme….even to the point of child sacrifice.

But the good news is that the story doesn’t end there. In verse 8, we hear another voice, a fresh perspective—the prophet Micah gives God’s response to the people’s questions.

“Silly people, God has already told you what you need to do. Here’s the deal— God needs for your faith to be shown in your everyday actions and in the way you treat others. And one last thing—remember that every step you take, every single day of your life, is a step that you are taking alongside God. Living that kind of life means more to God than any amount of calves or rams or oil. God wants you, not your stuff.”

God has blessed me with several Micahs in my life—people who have encouraged me and walked alongside me on my faith journey toward justice and peace. I remember one particular conversation I had with a friend, when I told her that I wasn’t ready to be a pacifist. I asked the question, “But what if I am not ready to die for this?” Today I hear echoes of the questions of God’s people in my own question—“With what shall I come before the LORD?” And in my friend’s answer I can hear the prophet Micah—she simply said, “Peace is a journey. Today is the first step.”

“He has told you what is good….do, love, walk...take the first step.”

So, who is your Micah? I hope you can identify people in your life whose voices interrupt your feelings of insufficiency and desperation. But I also hope you will let me be a Micah for you today as we think together about what it means to live out God’s call to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.

First, what does it mean to do justice?

In short, this means that actions matter. The verb here is “do,” and it is here to remind us that God cares about everything we do. And it is no accident that the word “do” is paired here with the word “justice”—God wants our actions to be just, reflecting God’s own character. This teaches us that justice is not something we simply think about, pray for, or believe in—justice is something that must be lived out. This has been the case throughout the history of God’s people, with calls for justice echoing throughout the Torah, the prophets, and the new covenant. Today, doing justice can take on many forms—buying fair trade coffee, reducing energy use, withholding taxes that would be spent on war, or even taking part in acts of civil disobedience to stand in solidarity with our global neighbors. Remember—this is a journey and this is an invitation to take the next step for you, which will probably look different for every single one of us!

The next way we are called to live righteously in God’s sight is by loving kindness.

Here, the Hebrew word for “love” has a unique meaning. The prophet Micah is not calling us to a warm, fuzzy kind of love, but a deep, all-encompassing life of love. In English, this kind of love is best described as loyalty. So, loving kindness means being loyal to kindness above all else. This loyalty to kindness in turn reflects our loyalty to God. So, what does it look like to be loyal to kindness? How about being kind in spite of feelings, turning the other cheek, acting compassionately toward personal and national enemies because loving kindness is our highest loyalty? Loving kindness means seeking the well-being of the places we inhabit, even if it is not our home—just as God’s people were called to do in exile. You see, loving kindness is not a one-time event, it is a way of life that echoes throughout the history of God’s people. The prophet Micah spoke in a different time than our own, but the call is for us as well. Love kindness. Be good. Be God’s people and build up God’s Kingdom in this place and this time.

The third element of a righteous life is to walk humbly with God.

Here, we find out how we are to live with and relate to God. This command is filled with meaning, and the Hebrew words hint at what God is calling for. First, the word “walk” in Hebrew is the same word used to describe ethics; this means that the way we live out our faith should be a natural part of our everyday life, just like walking— and we are called to walk and live humbly with God. The Hebrew word translated “humbly” can also be translated as “carefully,” so the call to walk humbly is really a call to live an ethical, conscious life. Doesn’t that sound a lot like the call to do justice and love kindness? As it turns out, while Micah gives three commands, he is really painting a picture of one whole and holy life, a life lived with God.

That brings us to the last three words of the text…

With. Your. God.

Those three words are the most important words that I’ve spoken today. They not only encompass Micah 6.6-8, they encompass the broad scope of Scripture as a whole.

We are called to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God—but we are not called to do this alone. Not only do we have Micahs along the journey to speak God’s truth into our lives, we have the Creator and Sustainer journeying along with us.

So, go and do justice—take the first step on this journey. Go and love kindness—be a loyal witness to God’s radical love. Go and walk humbly—be conscious of every step you take. And above all else, go with God and go for the world.

Today is the first step on the journey.

May it be so. Amen.

Bibliography

Anderson, Francis I. and David Noel Freedman. Micah: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible. Garden City, NJ: Doubleday, 2000.

Limburg, James. Hosea-Micah. Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988.

March, W. Eugene. “Micah.” Pages 660-664 in HarperCollins Bible Commentary. Edited by James L. Mays. San Francisco: HarperOne, 2000.

Smith, Ralph L. Micah-Malachi. Word Biblical Commentary. Waco, TX: Word Books, 1984.

the collision of truth and life

“When revelation engages in dialogue with the seeking human being, it leaves him with all his—often contradictory—approaches; it does not compel him to follow a single path of thought that alone brings salvation. It also leaves him with his contradictory feelings; to their confused tangle it only offers its simple message: God loves the world; he loves you personally and has demonstrated it in Jesus Christ. In saying this, it has uttered what is decisive, even if these words have infinite implications that the hearer will realize at an appropriate time. Then, too, it will emerge that the plurality of tentative human endeavors and of real or supposed needs actually converge on the truth of this statement, without being able to anticipate it in the slightest.”

- Hans Urs von Balthasar, Truth is Symphonic, p 53