This is about as arrogant a series of posts as I’ll ever write. Or even more bluntly, some of the most arrogant thoughts that I might ever have. Because as I write this . . . as I’ve been thinking through these things for the last couple of months . . . I’m sitting in a position of privilege. I sit in an air-conditioned house, in the suburbs of Atlanta, relatively safe from violence, oppression, and poverty.

I have a friend whose been to Iraq twice and his perspective forces me to think seriously about my pacifism and its implications.

I’ve never seen a loved one killed. I’ve never had missles shot into my city. I’ve never had suicide bombers run through my marketplace. I’ve never had my land taken from me. I’ve never been a soldier who puts their lives on the line in place of others. I’ve never had to stand at a roadside post and worry about a bomb.

I worry about what restaraunt I’m going to eat at. And what outfit I’m going to wear. I worry about getting an upgrade on my computer and whether or not I should buy a camcorder. These are my daily struggles.

I’m borderline apathetic at best and oblivious at the worst. So the way I see it, that makes me pretty arrogant to proceed any further.

But I’ve been thinking a lot lately. A lot about war, peace, justice, violence, poverty, money, priorities. My head has been swimming with these thoughts. I’ve so desperately wanted to come to some sort of final conclusion so that my head will quit swimming. So that my mind will quit racing when I lay my head on my pillow.

So like Dumbeldore and his great pensieve, I’ve decided to empty out my thoughts for sorting, and hopefully conversation. Even though this will undoubtebly come off as arrogant, my posture is as humble as my imbedded arrogance will allow.

It’s been going on for months now, maybe a year at the most. It started with reading God’s Politics and a consequent discussion about how God is much bigger than our projects and agendas. It’s been swelling ever since.

(I’ve written about these thoughts in places and at random times: My Enemies Are Men Like Me, MLK On Vietnam, Four Children & The Cost of War)

I’ve growingly become more uneasy about the trajectory of evangelicalism and politics. Especially in how the two have been relating and interplaying. This has sort of freaked out many of my friends and relatives who think that I’m morphing into some sort of bohemian or left-wing nut job.

Maybe it was my beard. Maybe it was downsizing to one car. Maybe it was quitting my 9-5 job and walking away from what most people would consider a great position and an up and coming “career/minister/speaker/leader”. But something has been changing in me. Stirring in me. It’s this image of Jesus that I can’t shake. Can’t get rid of.

It’s not the image of the white, suburban Jesus who frolicks amongst sheep in his spare time. Or the one where Jesus has come to make everybody happy and take some people to some really pretty white clouds in the sky and to destroy everyone else and Earth on his way out. It’s not the image of Jesus with a nice house and a nice car and a wad of cash in his wallet.

But the image that I can’t get rid of, the silhouette that is taking on more and more focus, more and more clarity . . . is of the Jesus who had no home. Had little to no possessions. Had no money. Who chose to live at the margins of society with the marginalized of society. It is of the Jesus who championed peace and non-violent resistance. It is of the Jesus whose anthem was love and reconcilation and not revenge and retribution. It is of the Jesus who recgonizes neither male nor female, Jew nor Gentile, but only humanity.

To be honest, part of me would love to get rid of this new image of Jesus. Go back to when my faith was easy, one that didn’t require such drastic interpretations and realignments. One that didn’t inspire me into such difficult action. One that didn’t cost so much.

I fully realize that my pacifism has as many complications as does any pro-war position. So I’m not attempting to be naive.

But I have to dream. I have to think. I have to wrestle. I have to take seriously the words and actions of a carpenter from Nazareth. I realize that puts me on the far edge of any conversation about peace and war and possible solutions.

But it’s quickly become the only edge I feel I can stand on.

Tags: War, Politics, Evangelicalism, Emerging Church, Jesus

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