A Church of Mercy

(cross-posted from simplyxian.com)

Protestants, especially conservatives and/or Evangelicals, are often hesitant to champion social causes or acts of mercy…typically equating them with the ‘social gospel’ of the early 20th century and its associated liberal theology. The connection, however, is clearly unwarranted and unscriptural.  Hopefully that incorrect connection will soon fade away into memory as more and more Christians get involved in reaching out to help those in need, as Jesus did.

Richard Stearns’ Hole in Our Gospel is a powerful antidote to this kind of thinking.  If you haven’t read it, you should.  You won’t be able to put it down, and then you won’t be able to get it out of your head.  Also, Jeremy Tate has just written a wonderful post of being a Church of mercy.  While I don’t agree with his conclusion that her consistent acts of mercy show the Roman Catholic Church to be the one true church, the example set by Catholicism in this respect is definitely humbling and worthy of others’ imitation.

read: A Church of Mercy

photo courtesy of stock.xchng
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simply, Christian (a new project)…or where have I been?

My absence around here has been extended, and I’m not apologizing because I’ve started working on something that really excites me–a new website/blog titled, simply, Christian.  Here’s what it’s all about:

simply, Christian is about choosing to live simply in midst of busyness in order to free our time, resources, and desires that we might focus on what is truly important and simply live.

It is about taking seriously Jesus’ world-changing, life-redeeming good news to address not only people’s spiritual condition but also their physical condition.  It is about daring ourselves to address the most pressing calamities that face humanity today in order to bring real, lasting transformation to others’ lives.  It is about making small changes in our daily activities that we might bring large changes to others, especially those…

  • who are orphans
  • who are affected by disease, especially HIV/AIDS and malaria
  • who lack clean water
  • who have not been shown mercy

It is about challenging one another to live simply, Christian.

My name is T.C. Judd, and these are my thoughts.  Of late, my life has been dramatically impacted in two completely different ways by two completely different writers.  With respect to simplicity, Leo Babauta of Zen Habits (and more recently, Everett Bogue of Far Beyond the Stars) has helped me to see the clutter and chaos that fills much of life and has challenged me to simplify.  With respect to living the whole of the Christian life, Richard Stearns, in The Hole in Our Gospel, brought to my attention the immensity of the social crises facing our world today and challenged me to make a difference.  Over time, I realized that the two blended well together–truly living a simple life (not a minimalist one, in my case) as a vehicle for truly living a Christian life.

So that, in a nutshell,  is what it is to live simply, Christian.

I’d appreciate if you’d head over to simply, Christian and check things out over there.  I’ll still be blogging here, though I expect the pace to remain slow for a while until I’ve gathered some momentum.

The Gift of Music

I would certainly like to praise music with all my heart as the excellent gift of God which it is and to commend it to everyone…Next to the Word of God, music deserve the highest praise. She is a mistress and governess of those human emotions–to pass over the animals–which as masters govern men or more often overwhelm them. No greater commendation than this can be found–at least not by us. For whether you wish to comfort the sad, to terrify the happy, to encourage the despairing, to humble the proud, to calm the passionate, or to appease those full of hate…what more effective means than music could you find?

…the gift of language combined with the gift of song was only given to man to let him know that he should praise God with both word and music, namely, by proclaiming [the Word of God] through music and by providing sweet melodies with words.

Martin Luther, LW 53:321, 323-324

On Sending Folks to War

[Last Friday I had the privilege of seeing one of our Texas Air National Guard units off to war.  For their security and that of their families I won’t mention the unit name, deployed locations, dates, etc.]

At once, I have the strangest and most wonderful “job” in the military. I am a chaplain. It’s part of my “job” to talk to people–to be there for them, to get to know them, and just to be with them. They call me ‘padre,’ ‘ preacher,’ or ‘our chaplain,’ which are all titles I am proud to bear because I am proud to serve them and to serve with them. I genuinely enjoy being with my troops.

Today was different.

It was different, because today I sent people that I know and love off to war. I visit with these folks each time we assemble. I see some of the full-timers during the week at Ellington. I joke with them. I cry with them. I drink coffee with them. I talk of serious events and about their favorite ball teams. I lead them in worship. I pray with them and for them. I read them the Word of God. I offer them the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ in the Sacrament.

Today was different.

It was different, because today I met many of their families for the first time–wives and husbands, brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. Today, I played with their kids as Mom and Dad embraced for the last time for a while. Today, I held hands and prayed with husbands and wives who were prepared for this day but not ready for it. Today, I exchanged hearty handshakes and smiles with those who looked forward to the adventure, and I gave tissues and a shoulder to those who were afraid. Today, we all bowed our heads in prayer together–those who are faithful to attend chapel and those whom I’ve never heard utter the Lord’s name without a closely-attached expletive. Today, in the midst of the deployment chaos, we stopped what we were doing and asked God’s protection to be upon those who were leaving and those who were left here at home.

Today was different.

It was different, not because it was the beginning of another deployment, but because it was a new kind of deployment for many of our troops. A deployment “outside the wire” where our folks are almost certain to come under fire. “Outside the wire” is the domain of the Army and the Marines, a place unfamiliar to many Air Force folks. “Outside the wire” is where in the harsh reality of war, people kill and are killed.

After we prayed, there was the call to say goodbye and the hurried shuffle of boots and bags out the door. There on the flightline, in Hemingway-esque fashion, our troops waved a final goodbye in the pouring rain and climbed on board the waiting C-130. As the dull drone of the Herc’s four engines revved to life, the plane gracefully lifted off, where it was soon engulfed in the low-hanging clouds and out of sight.

Some saluted. Some waved. Some sobbed.

There is a part of everyone who wears the uniform that wishes they were going too–and an even bigger part that wishes no one had to go at all.

Korah — Throwaway Lives?

With our Ethiopian adoption underway, I’ve begun researching and reading about this ancient nation–its Christianity, its heritage, its history, its people, its politics, etc.  I want to know whence our children will come and a bit of their background.  In so doing, I’ve come across recent blog posts by Michael Halcomb and Xavier Pacheco on the Ethiopian city of Korah.  As the title here indicates, Korah is a city of outcasts–lepers, prostitutes, orphans, HIV/AIDS sufferers, and others–75,000 people who live on the trash discarded by the nearly 2.7 million other residents of Addis Ababa.

In other words, Korah is seventy-five thousand people who have, themselves, literally been thrown away by society.

I encourage you to visit the Help Korah blog to prayerfully read and think how we, as the body of Christ, might come together, pool our resources, and address this horrific situation and others like it elsewhere in the world.  I am still mulling this over and trying to fully grasp the reality of the situation these many people find themselves in everyday–I will definitely be writing more on this later.

Let me leave you with two videos from Michael and Xavier.

  • Watch them
    • See the poverty like you’ve never imagined
    • See the smiles on these people’s faces
    • See the hope offered by those who have realized the need
    • Let your heart be broken
  • Forward them to others
    • Friends and family
    • Brother and sisters in Christ
    • Co-workers
    • Anyone
  • Let’s make a difference

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The Beautiful Cross

The crucifixion, which ended with the triumphant cry, “It is finished” (Jn 19.30), was the offering of the all-sufficient sacrifice for the atonement of all sinners.  The Man on the cross was the Lamb of God, who bears the sins of the world to carry them away from the face of God.  The salvation of the whole world once hung by those three nails on the cross on Golgotha.  As the fruit from the wood of the forbidden tree from which the first man once ate brought sin, death, and damnation upon the entire human race, so the fruits of the wood of the cross restored righteousness, life, and blessedness to all people.

On account of this, the cross is both holy and blessed!  Once nothing but a dry piece of wood, it was changed, like Aaron’s staff, into a green branch full of heavenly blossoms and fruit.  Once an instrument of torment for the punishment of sinners, it now shines in heavenly splendor for all sinners as a sign of grace.  Once the wood of the curse, it has now become, after the Promised Blessing for all people offered Himself up on it, a tree of blessing, an altar of sacrifice for the atonement, and a sweet-smelling aroma to God.  Today, the cross is still a terror–but only to hell.  It shines upon its ruins as a sign of the victory over sin, death, and Satan.  With a crushed head, the serpent of temptation lies at the foot of the cross.  It is a picture of eternal comfort upon which the dimming eye of the dying longingly looks, the last anchor of his hope and the only light that shines in the darkness of death.

— C.F.W. Walther (quoted in Treasury of Daily Prayer, p. 622)

Adoption and Baptism: A Real-Life Illustration

Last night, my son and I were enjoying our nightly ritual of reading books and bible stories before bedtime.  The bible story we were reading was the birth of Jesus–yes, he’s in the Christmas spirit early–and we paused at the end on a picture of baby Jesus lying in a manger, surrounded by animals, Joseph and Mary.  As a good young boy is wont to do, he started asking questions:

“Who is that?” he asked, pointing at the baby.

“Baby Jesus,” I replied.

“Isn’t he God?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And when he got big, he died on the cross, right?” he asked, pointing to his baptismal cross on the wall.

“Yes, you’re right,” I said.

“Why did I get baptized?” he asked again, stream of consciousness kicking into high gear.

“That’s a great question!” I told him.

At this point, I had to come up with an illustration of what baptism is all about and what God does in baptism.  For those who don’t know, we adopted our son from Ukraine a little over two years ago, when he was three.  Though he doesn’t remember a lot about when he was “a tiny baby,” he remembers many details about our initial visits at the orphanage, our days of playing with him in the orphanage before we could bring him home, and the adventurous trip back to Texas.  With those things in mind, our conversation continued…

“Remember when Mommy and I came to get you in Ukraine?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he replied.

“You were very little then, but we still loved you.  Could you have found us and come home all by yourself?”

“No way,” he said with a laugh.

“Well baptism is kind of like that. God comes to get us when we can’t come to him.”

“Oh!” he said as his eyes lit up with understanding.

“And now, you’re our son, right?” I asked.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“And just like you’re our child, you’re God’s child, because he came to get you just like we did.”

He paused for a minute and then said, “Jesus loves us a lot, right, Dad?”

“Yes he does,” I said with a smile. “Yes he does.”

The whole conversation was a joy, but it was most fantastic to watch my little one, who had never heard the name of Jesus just over two years ago, connect the dots in such a way as to realize–quite tangibly, since he remembers his baptism–how great is God’s love for us!

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