For years we were baffled by the “Angry Pastor” phenomena. Little did we know, it may have been a foreshadow of an emerging national mania.

Angry Pastor

Three years ago I was asked to write an article on the neo-authoritarian pastor phenomena in the American church. The purpose was not to deride those often-angry hip mega-pastors, but to try and explain the attraction, specifically their gravitational pull on young, urban, educated adults in progressive cities like Seattle.

The article was published by Christianity Today’s Leadership Journal. It was not my best work but if you want to read it in its entirety, you can find it HERE.

Over the last decade plus, many of us have been baffled by the angry-pastor way of church. Authoritarianism is generally hard for me to swallow in any form, but when that tyrannical ethos is laced with misogyny and hate-rhetoric, it becomes almost impossible to imagine why so many are drawn in, like a moth to a bug-zapper.

When I say “drawn in, ” I am talking about many of my dear, dear friends. The Christianity Today article follows my friend Derek, who I have known, loved, respected and walked with over a decade and a half. Derek is razor shrewd and yet, in a desperation to “save” his faith, he traded his critical mind for a pastor who would unwaveringly tell him what to believe.

In the article, I postulate that these urban hipsters and professionals, did not have a community problem, an ecclesial problem or even a theological problem… what they had was an epistemological problem:

I believe that so much of this is happening because young evangelicals are exhausted. They are wearied by a church that claims intellectual supremacy and yet delivers lazy logic, sectarian divisions, and a paradigmatic shelf-life of about 50 years (the approximate time it takes a denomination or emotionally charged religious movement to die).

Religion gave smart people, like Derek, an epistemological vessel that could no longer hold their faith. And to many, it felt like they were left with only two options:

One: reject religion completely and thus lose the metanarrative around which they had structured their lives.

Or Two: sacrifice the most precious thing they have left, their freedom (at least their freedom to think) and give their unswerving allegiance to an autocrat who would tell them what to believe and how to believe it… even if it meant enduring an endless barrage of misogyny, ridicule and hate-rhetoric.

Strangely, they were putting their faith in a pastor…. To embody a faith that they, deep inside, were no longer sure was true.

I would try to talk to these friends about the abusive language/systems they were accepting from their angry-pastor but they refused to hear it. Like a middle-schooler in love with the class-bully, their moral objectivity was gone.

If you listened closely enough, you could almost hear their soul crying out, “I am tired of a world where I can’t know what is true, I will give up my freedom and my values if someone will just tell me what to believe.”

. . . . .

So, this brings us to the second half of today’s discussion: Angry Politician.

It has been three years since that article was written and today we have a similar (and from my perspective equally baffling) circumstance in American politics.

Untold millions are flocking to candidates that unashamedly berate their constituency and flaunt hate language (anti-woman, anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim, etc.) and all the while, these millions hypnotically vote their approval time and time again, “Thank you, sir. May I have another.” (It is also worth noting that evangelicals might be the most influential block of votes potentially sending Angry Politician to Washington.)

Why? Why has such a wave of support been mobilized?

I am afraid that deep inside, many believe they have only two options.

One: they would have to reject the myth of America they were given, a myth that has come to define them, a myth that insists that their citizenship makes them the ultimate winners, and a myth that promises prosperity and dominance over the rest of the world.

Or Two: Accept a living, breathing, walking promise that the myth is still true. Accept a person who proves the myth worked and it might just work for them as well… even if that means they have to simultaneously kill so much of what makes the American story great: Plurality, freedom of religious expression (even for Muslims), a homeland for the immigrant, equality for all regardless of gender, class or culture (Galatians 3:28) and so on.

Strangely, they are putting your faith in a politician…. To embody a myth that they, deep inside, are no longer sure is true.

How is this possible? How has a group of citizens, if they had been surveyed just 5 years ago, and asked if they would support this particular Angry Politician for president, they would have shot milk out of their nose in hysterical denial.

And yet here we are.

Like Derek and church, I believe that many of my fellow Americans are desperate. And so, they are willing to give up much of what is most precious to them: their autonomy, their kindness, their generosity and hospitality. Why?

Just like church, the promises of the American story no longer holds water, no longer holds hope. And like the tyrannies that pepper human history, they are now willing to stomach abusive speech, endless hyperbole and minority scapegoating to have someone who promises to have all the answers; someone who promises to always win, someone who “proves” the myth.

. . . . .

Ironically (an irony you will soon see), I was asked to finish that now 3-year old article with some epistemological hope. If not absolute submission to an autocrat (wherein we summarily swallow values and solutions that we would otherwise reject), then where might we find the sensation of “truth” again?

The vision I offered was surprisingly found in the story of the church.

The church functioned in the very center of God’s will at two points: at her beginning and at her end. The church’s beginning is clear, an unprecedented festival of supernatural multiculturalism:

Parthians and Medes and Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the districts of Libya around Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs … (Acts 2:9-11).

And the church’s ending is clear as well:

After these things I looked, and behold, a great multitude which no one could count, from every nation and all tribes and peoples and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb … (Revelation 7:9)

I know that my blindness is most insidious when I surround myself with people who are just like me: spend like me, read like me, vote like me, worship like me, etc. If I surround myself with people just like me, we will probably all have the same blind spots. We will tend to adopt self-serving beliefs. That is one danger of a ghettoized religion built on affinity structures or a ghettoized society that hides behind high walls. However, in the company of the other, there is real hope that my prejudices and arrogances might come to light.

What greater indication of transcendent truth than when diverse voices collaborate: Global South and Global North, rich and poor, urban and rural, marginalized and mainstream.

This vision of hope, rooted in the story of the church and reaffirmed time and again throughout human history, is under specific attack from our autocrat de jour, who promises to wall away diverse voices from our already fragile society.

When I was a child Advent meant little more than a chance to open little doors in a Hallmark calendar to find wax-flavored chocolates behind. That was then.

Today, it is a season of intentional family spiritual conversation.

It is also a deeply theologically meditative experience as our community ponders the implications of a God who would ask us to join the eternal story by choosing to become a helpless creature in our story.

The Nativity story itself provides layered narratives of justice, provision, oppression and the inverted economy of God’s kingdom.

It is of great significance that both poor (shepherds) and rich (Magi) were invited into the story of Jesus’ birth. It is important that God orchestrated it that way and that God’s people chose to record and remember…

Rich and poor. Poor and rich.

It is nose-on-your-face obvious that God has a special place for the poor in the eternal story. Jesus claimed that helping the hurting and marginalized was the same as helping Jesus himself (Matthew 25:31-40). In Luke’s Gospel it states frankly, “Blessed are the poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God” (Luke 6:20). If these passages are not convincing enough for you, consider Mary’s prayer (The Magnificat) upon hearing that she would mother the Messiah (Luke 1:51-53):

He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.

He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble.

He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty.

It is no wonder that the shepherds were given a star-spangled invitation to the manger. And yet, the Nativity is not populated with the poor alone. Wealthy Wise Men from the East also find their way to the babe’s bedside.

Privilege manifests itself in different ways throughout the Nativity story. For instance, the shepherds were stuck with a mind-bending encounter. Their introduction to Jesus is instantaneous, overwhelming and immediate. It is quite possible that the entire shepherd narrative takes place in just a few short hours: angels, announcement, invitation, walk into town… and then back to the hillside where their work cannot wait (sheep don’t take a night off.)

Not so for the Magi. There is no conceivable way that their story took only a few hours. Quite on the contrary, it is hard to imagine it lasting shorter than a few months. Try to imagine it: they had to prepare for their significant trip; they had to travel from a place so far it is only known as “the east” and after finding Jesus, they had to journey back “by another route” (Matthew 2:12). Didn’t they have jobs to attend to? Didn’t they have bills to pay? Who can partake a fanciful, multi-month quest? Apparently the Wise Men can. Their privilege allows them to do so.

The Magi story required a freedom of schedule that perhaps the shepherds simply could not afford. This is one way privilege takes action.

How did the shepherds come to the knowledge of the Messiah born? While childhood Torah studies may have softened the soil of their souls, the bulk of the knowledge was as subtle as a freight train. It was a marching band in the sky… a nuclear blast of blessing… a miracle. This is how God chose to speak to them, blunt and immediate…. not so with the Magi.

In the Wise Men story, we are told of no explosion in the sky, no angelic chorus. Instead, they were required to utilize a very different treasure of opportunity. They must have had access to a whole library of sacred documents to study in order to unravel the arrival of a distant king. They had to have had a knowledge of astronomy and calendars that enabled them to calculate a coming that seemingly alluded everyone else, including Jewish scholars. Sure there was a twinkle in the sky to guide them, but that was not enough. Thank goodness that they had the sort of access to power that allowed them to stroll up to King Herod’s palace and ask for directions. Lingering studies, libraries of knowledge and access to power… these are the often unspoken benefits of privilege.

I am not going to cheapen this point with heavy-handed words.

Let me state this as plainly as possible…

Both poor and rich were welcome inside the Nativity story…

But the rich had the good sense not to show up empty-handed.

What is the quality of your wealth and privilege?   Do you have the ability to cross great distances? Do you have access to education others could only dream of? Do you have the ability to knock on doors of power (or email, or call)?

It is good to show up with a smile and a blessing the way the shepherds did, but the Magi knew that they had the capacity to give more… and so, they knew not to show up empty handed. How about you?

#ToWhomMuchIsGiven

I recently taught a class on a Theology of Evangelism at a local conservative seminary. It was a most enjoyable class (and one of my favorite topics) full of significant young Christian leaders. My belief is that when we lovingly proclaim the gospel of Jesus that most often, friendship happens.

As a gift to the students, I asked Kevin Palau to come to class and contribute his significant perspective to our conversation. Kevin was fantastic!

If you don’t know, Kevin is the son of renowned evangelist, Luis Palau and he is the current president of the . Among his many ministry accomplishments, he has been instrumental, if not unprecedented, in his work to build partnerships between civic/city governments and church communities.

Kevin sat relaxed in front of my class, as if we were all lounging in his living room. He is almost giddy when he talks about the proclamation of the gospel of Jesus and the work of the Palau organization over the decades and especially today.

Then he shared about his work with the City of Portland and specifically the Mayor’s office. “We just went in and told the mayor that we wanted to help. We, the evangelical church, have an incredible network of thousands and thousands of people who want to love this city. We have time, expertise and manpower. How can we help?”

Related: Kevin Palau is on the Red Carpet!

According to Kevin, the Mayor and his staff were thankful and inspired by the invitation. Even Kevin was amazed by how much, over time, the city invited the faith community into partnership.

After a time of brainstorming about the most glaring needs in the city of Portland (again this was a City government generated list), seven areas of need were presented:

“Hunger, homelessness, healthcare, poorly financed public schools, foster care, human trafficking, and the environment”

With Kevin’s words still floating in the middle of the room, I thought of Jesus’ transformational commentary on the Kingdom in Matthew 25:

Then the King will say to those on His right, “Come, you who are blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.

For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat;
I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink;
I was a stranger, and you invited Me in;
(I was) naked, and you clothed Me;
I was sick, and you visited Me;
I was in prison, and you came to Me.”

Then the righteous will answer Him, “Lord, when?”

The King will answer and say to them, “Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.”

(Matthew 25:34-37, 40 NASB, format and bold mine)

Let’s line those two lists up:

The City of Portland, which Huffington Post just listed as America’s Least Christian City, not only opened its doors to partnering with evangelical churches, but when they asked for help, they unknowingly asked us to fulfill Jesus’ invitation to participate in the Kingdom of God. They basically asked us to be the church.

Kevin went on to say that thousands and thousands of Portland churchgoers are today experiencing participation with God’s Kingdom like they never have before. And we have the City of Portland to thank for generously opening their doors to partnership.

Maybe Jesus’ words in Matthew 25 are as much about befriending our culture as they are about personal holiness.

Poor theology

Ten years ago, I was a young theology student. Unexpectedly, my friend Steve Mitchell invited me to a small dinner party. He told me that Tony Campolo would be attending. Now, there are many mixed opinions about this Activist-Theologian, but I must admit that I was a bit star-struck by the thought of spending an evening at a dinner table with Dr. Campolo. My youth pastor first introduced to his expectorating sermons as a boy and I have never forgotten his early impression on my life.

As we sat around the classic wooden table, Dr. Campolo waxed eloquent about our place in the world as the people of God. He soon turned the conversation to the topic of the poor. I sat at the far side of the table from him, just thankful for the delicious food and the rich company.

“What is your theology of the poor?” Dr. Campolo blurted out. His always dramatic tone jumped up a quantum level. “What! What is your theology of the poor?”

He had removed his glasses and he was scanning the table through squinting eyes. “You!” He thrust his glasses across the table, directly at me. “You, young theologian, what is your theology of the poor? What does your seminary teach you?”

Oh nuts! The whole table of more than a dozen people stared at me and I scanned back and forth around the rectangular space as my mind scrambled desperately for a reasonably thoughtful answer.

How about you? How would you have answered the question? What is your theology of the poor?

After an excruciating silence, I admitted to the table my ignorance, “I don’t know.”

Dr. Campolo smiled at me reassuringly. He seemed genuinely encouraged by my willingness to admit my blindness. I believe he saw it as courage, even though to me it felt like shame.

“Our theology of the poor is simple, ” Dr. Campolo shared. “We find it in the words of Jesus. When we look into the eyes of the poor, ” he paused with his hand outstretched, “When we look into the eyes of the poor, we look into the face of Jesus. It is as simple as that. What did Jesus say? Do we believe his words? ‘For as much as you have done it to the least of these, you have done it unto me.'”

Naked Jesus

I want to end this article with a unusual application for your consideration.

When Jesus made his famous list in Matthew 25, it always seemed fairly straightforward to me. “Hungry and Thirsty” referred to those without access to sustainable nutrition and clean water. “Sick” referred to the infirmed both in our local health systems and victims of health/environmental epidemics around the world. “Prison” refers to those incarcerated in our prison system. “Stranger” referred to the one ‘who is different’ and the immigrant, most epitomized in the parable of the Good Samaritan.

What about the “naked?” For most of my life, I just assumed that “naked” was simply a synonym for the poor (and that may very well be much of what Jesus meant.) However, the “poor” are fairly well covered in Jesus’ other categories: hungry, thirsty, etc.. What if Jesus also had something else in mind?

I imagine Jesus, as he made his list of societal pain, that as he spoke, his thoughts wandered through the streets of the Roman World. He thought of hungry urchins, desperate lepers, exhausted foreigners, and dissenters destined to prisons and to Roman crosses. What else did he see? He also saw temple prostitutes and sex slaves (also one of Jesus’ closest followers may have been a prostitute.) Who were the “naked” of the Roman World? Who are the “naked” of our society today? In many ways they are the victims of human trafficking and the sex industry, these are the same people who populate our world’s brothels, strip clubs and pornographic websites.

I know that I am not going to get any “feel good” awards for ending my article this way, but this is a specific implication that I believe we need to consider.

When Dr. Campolo talked about a theology of the poor, he said “When you look into the eyes of the poor, you are looking into the eyes of Jesus” and he justified it by simply taking Jesus’ words literally (something that every conservative Bible scholar tries to do): “As much as you have done it to the least of these, you have done it unto me.”

I ask you, what are the implications when we apply Dr. Campolo’s words to the “naked” in our society? What are the implications when we walk down the neon-lit streets of our cities? What are the implications when we sit on a strip club barstool? AND what are the implications when we click on an exploitative website?

“When we look into the eyes of the _______, we look into the eyes of Jesus.”

“For as much as you have done it to the least of these, you have done it unto me.”

NOTE: This post originally appeared at the Leadership Journal