This is the last post in my series of thoughts on war. I’m sorry if I bored you guys this week, but I think this helped me more than anybody. I’m sorry they got a little long. I started writing the first one and realized there was no way I could dump everything out that I was thinking in just a couple of paragraphs. I sincerely hope that this has stretched you as much as it has me. Please forgive me if I’ve come off arrogant and detached from reality at times. These thoughts have as much to do with my hopes and dreams as anything else.

With that being said, I’d like to end with a few thoughts about Jesus. Like I said in my introduction, I know the perspective of a Christian pacifist (although I really don’t like the term and would prefer something more like peace-maker) is somewhat in the minority. For me, so much of what I’m thinking through right now is so connected to the radical, subversive, kingdom of God message that Jesus spoke of. I can’t talk about war without having the words and actions of this carpenter from Nazareth intimately shaping my posture towards conflicts, terrorism, and war.

The Jesus who was above politics. Above Republican and Democrat, right and left, conservative and liberal. Jesus is my politic. It begins and ends with him for me.

The idealist in me wants to follow in his path, where he would rather die than take life. I want to respond to terrorism and violence in the same way that he responded, by giving up his life freely. But I’m afraid even on my best day I am going to stray from his example. But that does not mean that I must forsake it. It in fact inspires me to chase it harder the next time.

This politic begins with me as well. This conversation on war is pious talk if I do not respond to “the other” in my own backyard who may come against me. Perhaps not with rockets and bombs, but with words and actions. My thoughts are also nothing more than clanging cymbals if I do not respond to the places in the world that are desperate for healing.

This has everything to do with a vision. A vision of the future and of the present. It is a vision where heaven comes crashing down into earth. A vision of a day when, “They shall beat their swords into plowshares, And their spears into pruning hooks; Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, Neither shall they learn war anymore.” (the prophet Isaiah)

This vision also leads us to a path of higher living. Where Jesus is the icon and the crux of humanity. The vision of what humanity could and should be. This compels me to follow closer and closer to this wild-eyed prophet from Galilee. As you get closer to Jesus, your life begins to take on the same aim and shape and feel. This isn’t something that legalistically happens. It’s organically birthed out of this vision of Jesus. It just happens.

You get closer and you realize that Jesus had little to no possessions. He had no money. And had no permanent place to lay his head and rest his feet. He lived amongst the strangers. The prostitutes and scum. Living at the margins with the marginalized. This vision of Jesus is very difficult to reconcile with our vision of the American dream. With our materialism and nationalism.

This Jesus is more bohemian than corporate, more pacifist than reactionary, more forgiving than vengeful, more patient than trigger-happy.

And most important of all, more global than American.

Until we cactch a glimpse of this vision, I fear that we will continue the same cycles of violence that have preceeded us. And as these conflicts continue to deteriorate and escalate, we will pass these to our children. I only hope and pray that our actions today are not creating the wars of tomorrow.

This is not about us. We think it is. That’s why it’s such a struggle for us to let go of our existing paradigms. Scot McKnight writes . . . Republicans believe “what is good for me is good for the nation” and Democrats believe “what is good for the nation is good for me.” Christians think “how can I and how can we, as a community of faith, incarnate and diffuse the gospel in the world in which we live?”

The problem with most of our traditonal modes of discourse is that they begin and end with us at the center of God’s economy. Our politics often reflect what is good for me. The challenge of Jesus is to begin to think about what is the best thing for the good of the world?

I’m afraid that I’ve rarely seen war benefit the good of the world. Perhaps temporarily, but never lasting.

In Lebanon, Israel, and Iraq . . . Syria, Iran, and North Korea . . . in Chicago, Austin, and Atlanta . . . the question is how do we diffuse the gospel into the world for the good of the world?

We can not do this when we pick and choose from Jesus what we want.

I’m reminded of the lyrics from one of Derek Webb’s songs, “Peace by way of war is like purity by way of fornication. It’s like telling someone murder is wrong and then showing them by way of execution.”

It is time that we begin to find the voice of Jesus and not the voice of American nationalism, party politics, or religion. It is time that we begin practicing a consistent ethic of life. War (and the death penalty for that matter) is just as much a morality issue as abortion is. We can not pick and choose what lives have value before God. We can not pick and choose which group still bears the stamp of the imago dei (image of God) and which ones don’t. Either we all are created in the image of God or none of us are. Either all of life has value or none of it does.

The time is now.

Christ our true King, may we have the courage to stand where you once stood and the strength to live the life that you shared freely for all. Slow our anger so that we may see like you see. Fuel our anger so that we may we act like you act. In the name of the Father who creates, the Son who rescues, and the Spirit that inspires.

Tags: War, Jesus, Lebanon, Israel, Emerging Church, Iraq, Terrorism, Derek Webb, Scot McKnight