COMMONWEALTH

It has been far too long since I last wrote on COMMONWEALTH. Today seems like a good day to return and reflect.

I have often quoted the brilliant 20th-century philosopher Ferris Bueller when he said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” I have shared this with friends, with my children, in sermons, and I have repeated it to myself countless times in the mirror. It is a needed reminder—even from a fictional character—that we must carpe diem.

Throughout history, humanity has often imagined that we could chart a perfect course for our lives, our societies, and our world. Yet, time and again, circumstances shift in ways we cannot control. Frustration, injustice, and suffering arise unexpectedly, revealing the hidden decay, selfishness, and sin that exist both within ourselves and within society.

Life moves fast—even when it seems to move slowly. There are seasons that invite joy and rest, and there are seasons that demand lament. Lament is necessary because it forces us to confront what we have ignored, hidden, or avoided. Beneath the surface of our routines and comforts, rot and decay often lie waiting for our attention. God has a way of calling us to face it, whether in our personal lives, in our communities, or in the world at large.

There are many forces in the world—selfishness, pride, injustice, and violence—that continually challenge us to love and live rightly. Humanity repeatedly struggles to act justly and to honor life, often prioritizing our own comfort and advantage over the needs of others. We rationalize suffering, turn away from injustice, or claim ignorance to avoid responsibility.

This cannot be who we are called to be. This cannot be the way of life God calls us to. Have we truly become indifferent, callous, or self-absorbed? Are we more concerned with asserting our rights than with doing what is right?

As followers of Christ, we are called to respond to these realities with lament. Lament helps us confront truth, see clearly where we have failed, and recognize our shared responsibility for the brokenness around us. In lament, there is no finger-pointing; instead, we acknowledge that each of us has a part to bear. Our selfishness, pride, and inaction contribute to suffering, injustice, and decay in the world.

Lament invites grief, repentance, and renewal—it opens the door to life as a new creation. In lament, we confess our failures, seek forgiveness, and begin again. We stop ignoring the pain and suffering endured by our fellow human beings, caused by sin, injustice, and indifference. In lament, we see where we have gone off course and discover the way forward. In lament, we receive God’s grace and mercy, and in turn, become bearers of that grace and mercy to others.

Through lament, we affirm the value of life and commit to truly defending it. Through lament, we embrace humility, repentance, and love for our neighbors. Through lament, we join together as a community committed to justice, mercy, and faithfulness, becoming a living witness to God’s presence in the world.

May we pause to look around. May we live not as fatalists who think change is impossible, but as Incarnational Christians, understanding that God’s way, truth, and life are revealed in Jesus. May we live in His presence and become His presence to the world, faithfully and humbly, as the commonwealth of God. 

Over the development of my pastoral ministry and personal theology, there has been an increasingly narrow focus on what I believe is of utmost importance in the life of the Christian. This focus has become more and more pronounced as I grow older.

My attention has settled on the reality that we need a concrete application of the Christian faith we all hold dear. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer approached his execution in 1945, his reflections on “religionless Christianity” and his desire to see believers strip away false piety and substitute religiosity in favor of a more incarnational expression of faith make more and more sense to me.

This incarnational expression of faith is what the world needs now—more than new programs or religious activities. It is a focus that compels Christians to actually live out Christ’s command to love God and love neighbor. It is free from the games and distractions that cause us to forget or ignore the true calling of the people of God.

So how can we, as Christians, be incarnational? We do as Jesus did—we enter into the realities of life and simply be present. We enter those realities proclaiming hope. We enter them carrying the love of Christ. This narrowed focus opens us to greater vulnerability and discomfort than we might naturally choose. But that is the way of the cross. As Bonhoeffer wrote in Discipleship, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” No one wants to die, yet this is precisely what following Christ looks like.

Are you an incarnational Christian? I ask not because I have figured it out, but because I want to share my heart and seek companions who desire to pursue the way of Christ in a time marked by uncertainty, unrest, and profound change. How can we, as the people of God, live as a concrete witness to Christ’s love? How do we move beyond merely agreeing with doctrines and truths to actually being reborn into a life of obedience?

These are the questions the church must answer as we look toward the future. The church will likely look very different than it does today, and if we do not move where God is leading, we risk being left behind. How often have we recognized the need for change—in life, in church, and in our work—yet remained comforted by the status quo?

Any threat to the status quo—whether social upheaval, cultural shifts, or personal disruption—has the power to expose how fragile our attachments to familiarity can be. Yet praise be to Christ, who is the Resurrection and the Life. May we no longer be defined by what is comfortable or familiar, but by the power of the Resurrection. Now is the time to narrow our focus and live incarnationally.

In Paul’s epistle to the Galatians, we see the apostle livid at how the Galatian Christians were undermining the power and message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ by adding human works to the work of Christ in order to accomplish salvation. In church history, this understanding—“Jesus + human action = salvation”—has been condemned as Pelagian and unchristian. There has even been a lesser equation, something like “Jesus + a little bit of human action = salvation,” which has been condemned just as strongly as full-blown Pelagianism; we call it “semi-Pelagianism.”

In Paul’s day, his argument to the Galatians was that they needed to stop listening to the assertion that they were not truly Christian unless they adopted additional religious requirements. For some, Jesus was not enough for salvation—those who wished to belong to the people of God were told they must add something else in order to be truly saved and part of the true church.

Paul angrily and forcefully denied this message. Any formulation other than “Jesus = salvation” was false and should be rejected.

Over the last few years—and more intensely in recent months—Christians have been subjected to a similar problem. We must not only heed the apostle’s warning about this danger; we must call it out, denounce it, and proclaim the true Gospel.

Increasingly, political ideologies, movements, and cultural agendas have sought to wrap themselves in Christian language and imagery. Leaders and influencers have used biblical narratives, religious symbols, and spiritual rhetoric to persuade believers that faithfulness to Christ requires allegiance to particular political causes, national identities, or cultural battles. In doing so, they often present their preferred agendas as if they were synonymous with obedience to God.

I would not raise this concern if such efforts did not appropriate the foundational narrative of the Gospel of Jesus Christ—the story of God’s redemption of his people and the nature of the church of God. This distortion of the message of Christ is deeply troubling, because the Gospel is not a tool to advance human power, but the good news of God’s saving grace for all people.

I have often been told, “Preacher, you need to stay in your wheelhouse, which is teaching and preaching the Bible, and let others handle public affairs.” I can understand that critique. But it raises an important question: why do political voices so often refuse to remain within their own sphere? Why do they so frequently appeal to Christian language and authority in order to sanctify their aims? When the Gospel is used in this way, it becomes a weapon of triumph rather than what it truly is—the good news for the poor, the oppressed, and the broken.

This trend reflects a growing tendency among some religious leaders to tie Christian identity to ideological alignment. In recent years, many believers have heard statements implying that one’s political positions determine one’s faithfulness to Christ. Some have even suggested that a person’s spiritual authenticity can be measured by their civic loyalties or policy preferences.

Such thinking echoes the very error Paul confronted in Galatians: telling those redeemed by Christ that his saving work is not enough. It adds human systems, allegiances, or identities to the equation of salvation. But whenever we say that a person must trust Jesus and align with a particular movement, ideology, or cultural program in order to be truly faithful, we are no longer preaching the Gospel. We are proclaiming a distortion that cannot endure.

So, for what it is worth, to the people of God: Jesus is our salvation. Jesus is our hope. Jesus is our peace. Jesus is our joy. Jesus is our love. We must resist every attempt to create formulas that distract from the promise of the Gospel of our Lord, who died for all people without distinction.

The Gospel is not the property of any nation, party, or movement. It is the testimony of the greatest event in human history—the incarnation of Jesus Christ, through whom God confronts sin, defeats death, and reconciles humanity to himself.

And so we must continually return to repentance, guiding people toward the Way, the Truth, and the Life. For the day is coming when every earthly system, every power, and every dividing wall will fall away, and the Kingdom of God—made up of every nation and tongue—will stand as the only lasting community.

Therefore, let us learn from the Galatians and guard the purity of the Gospel in our own time. Let us refuse to allow it to be reshaped by human agendas, and instead be transformed by the good news that alone gives hope, peace, joy, and love. Amen.

Let’s remember: the Declaration of Independence famously states that all people are created equal, and that the government should protect certain inalienable rights, summed up in three words: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

I strongly believe in and celebrate the Declaration of Independence. I strongly believe and celebrate Life. I strongly believe and celebrate Liberty. I strongly believe and celebrate the Pursuit of Happiness.

I also strongly believe there is an order of importance to these inalienable rights. The most important is Life. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness are meaningless without Life.

I love Life. I love it so much that I believe Life is a gift to be respected and protected. Life has dignity. To pursue Liberty and Happiness is futile if Life itself is not valued.

Let’s continue ignoring the elephant in the room.

My sons play baseball. They love playing baseball. I love playing baseball. I love watching baseball. Baseball perfectly captures what it means to live. The greatest hitters in baseball succeed in only 30–39 percent of their at-bats. Read that again. The greatest hitters in the game succeed only 30–39 percent of the time. It’s just like life. We all have good days and bad days. We do not succeed at every opportunity. In fact, much of the time, we fail miserably. Yet even then, we can rejoice. Even the best hitters fail more often than they succeed—and yet the game goes on.

The coaches of my sons’ baseball teams always stress one point: your teammates are counting on you. In our leagues, if a play is being made at any base other than first, the base runner must slide, or else the runner advancing to first is called out. It’s about player safety. Inevitably, we have had runners fail to slide into second, resulting in a double-play. And the discussion follows: “Guys, you have to slide. Think about your teammates. Don’t let the team down.”

This is the heart of the lesson: life is not about putting yourself first. It’s about putting others first. It’s about making decisions that honor and protect the people around you, even when it is uncomfortable or inconvenient.

We are all part of a team—families, workplaces, schools, churches, and communities. Every decision we make has consequences for those around us. We must ask ourselves: am I living in a way that protects, supports, and uplifts others? Or am I ignoring the impact of my choices because I am focused only on myself?

My fear is that too often, we choose the comfort of the status quo, the ease of selfishness, or the pursuit of personal gain without regard for the people who depend on us. Like the baseball runner who refuses to slide, we put ourselves first and put others at risk. And sometimes, the consequences are catastrophic.

Let’s not let each other down. Let’s live with awareness and intentionality. Let’s value Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness—but always in a way that honors the people around us. Let’s choose to “slide” for the good of the team.

Life is a gift. Liberty is a gift. Happiness is a gift. And the greatest way to honor all three is by putting others first.

Hey, how long has this elephant been in the room?

The Apostle Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 12 are haunting. The great preacher and church planter bares his soul to a group of fellow Christians who faced their own struggles and concerns. In order to deepen their shared life in Christ, Paul confesses one of his great trials.

We do not know precisely what Paul’s “thorn in the flesh” was. Some suggest a physical malady or a problem with his vision. I have wondered whether it might have been the memory of his persecution of the early church—perhaps even his role in standing by as Stephen was stoned for witnessing to Christ. Whatever it was, this thorn caused Paul persistent pain and prompted him to cry out to God for its removal.

God’s response to Paul was clear: “My grace is sufficient for you.” Out of this revelation, Paul concludes: “When I am weak, then I am strong.”

For Christians, our weaknesses are the grounds for the strength of Christ. The Gospel flips the world’s understanding of power on its head. In a “survival of the fittest” world, the proclamation that Christ’s strength is made perfect in human weakness seems almost alien.

“My grace is sufficient for you.” This is God’s promise to all who are in need. Each day, we confront our sin, and we recognize that we will never be completely free from it this side of eternity. With this reality in mind, we join our voices with Christians across all times and places—lamenting, confessing, and seeking repentance. Individually and corporately, we confess the sins we have committed and the good we have failed to do. This act is rarely easy; it exposes our weakness and reminds us that true hope is not found in human strength.

Confession leads us to trust God. It compels us to seek His grace and reminds us that Christ is our only hope. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “In confession there takes place a breakthrough to community.” Through confession, we participate in a restored community: a body of brothers and sisters bearing one another’s burdens and testifying to the reconciling power of Christ on the cross.

When we confess together, we hope that the weaknesses of the past can be acknowledged, forgiven, and redeemed, so that Christ’s strength may be at work in His Church. The grace of Christ is sufficient—may we trust in it all the days of our lives.

Prayer:
Heavenly Father, we confess our sinfulness to You, for we have rebelled and gone our own way. We have refused to hear Your voice and honor Your will. Grant us the strength found in Christ alone, that as we seek Your forgiveness, we may draw closer to You. Teach us to humble ourselves and live as the light You have called us to be, united as one body, for Your sake and glory. Amen.

Each week, Christians around the world affirm their faith together by reciting the Apostles’ Creed, the Nicene Creed, the Athanasian Creed, or other statements drawn from Scripture and tradition. Some may view these recitations as merely a mindless ritual—a way to fill time with religious words.

But that is not what is happening when we affirm our faith together.

A community that recites creeds joins its voice with Christians across all times and places. When we speak the creeds, we join those who lived 1,500 years ago, and those who will live 1,500 years from now (unless Christ returns sooner). We join our voices with Christians in our own denomination and with those in different traditions. We join our voices with people in our country and across the globe, with brothers and sisters of every race, ethnicity, and social background. To confess a creed is to confess unity with all believers in Christ.

The creeds also remind us of God’s saving work, His nature, and His character. They root us in a faith that is larger than our individual understanding. They remind us of the past—not to dwell there, but so that our future may be filled with faithfulness, obedience, and trust in God.

The creeds do not allow us to forget the past; rather, they anchor us in the foundation of our faith, Jesus Christ. Through them, we are called to be one in His name and to love one another.

Prayer:
Mighty God, You have made Your presence known among Your people in Jesus Christ. You have called us into a community that stretches across time and eternity. We are not the creators of faith, only recipients of Your gift and grace. Strengthen us each day with reminders of Your love, and help us to be one despite our differences. Teach us to worship You with intention, fully engaged, and to be guided and taught by Your Holy Spirit. Amen.