Your church’s effectiveness and how close it aligns with God’s heart and priorities can be measured by the number of sinners you’re attracting.

Jesus drew people by love, by radical acceptance. Not by judgement, or by calls for repentence and holy living. Not even by preaching profound biblical truth. People were amazed at his words of grace. They were amazed at his teaching with authority — not like the teachers they were accustomed to. And the only way one can preach with authority, with God’s power, is by being in touch with God’s heart. And the loving, longing heart of God attracts people. All kinds of people. The worst kinds of people.

You’re wondering where the power is? You’re praying for explosive church growth like in the New Testament?

Well, how may “sinners” are in your services? How many are you attracting?

Something to think about …

Yeah, I get bent out of shape easily sometimes. And I threw one of my “you can’t be serious” looks at the pastor. But he was dead serious. And since I knew I was on a journey of “radical acceptance” and opening myself up to allow God to use his Church in ways he wants (even if it raises some eyebrows), I was eager for the theological justification. Too bad I didn’t get it. The pastor’s position was simple. While as believers, we maintain a Biblical standard for purity in intimate relations — marriage and fidelity — we still need to love people enough to help them stay safe even if they don’t live up to our standards. Nutshell theology. Good for the soul, but not really satisfying to my analytical mind. So as I picked through the bucket, marveling at the assortment of glow-in-the-dark colors, I started wrestling with the arguments and implications. Another mind-stretching experience.

Would Jesus be handing out condoms at the Oklahoma Gay Rodeo Association? According to my pastor, of course he would. But I could already hear the protests of my conservative evangelical friends and colleagues, rolling in disgust in their pews. Isn’t this tantamount to condoning sin? I don’t know. But what does Jesus think?

Did Jesus ever overlook a moral shortcoming in order to save a life? Images of scenes from ancient Middle East started flooding my mind. Isn’t this the same argument about working on the Sabbath? Isn’t it better to allow people to rub grains of wheat in their hands in order to satisfy their hunger, even though Sabbath laws forbid it? Or, could pulling your ox out of a pit in sheer mercy and compassion justify overriding the Sabbath restriction against it? And David, before he became king, entering the tabernacle and stealing the holy bread there to feed his hungry men — doing what was unlawful. Jesus justified him, applauded him. Here was a man who understood the heart (and priorities) of God. (Lk 6:1-5; Lk 14:5)

Didn’t a tablecloth containing all kinds of forbidden meat lower from heaven to Peter in a vision, with a command to eat and call nothing unclean that God has made clean?  Because it’s about people, not rules.  (Acts 10:10-15)

That scene of the Samaritan woman at the well also presses itself into my mind. She’d been married five times, and was currently living with a man not her husband. Yet because Jesus spends time talking with her (a scandalous action back then), God’s salvation was brought to her entire village (John 4). And he never once rebuffed her for her disreputable lifestyle. That other woman caught in adultery and about to be stoned by the righteous people of the day … Jesus steps in and saves her life. In this case, he does correct her: “go and sin no more.” But he doesn’t look at her offense. He focuses on saving her life. The correction comes later, when she was in a more receptive position (John 8:3-12).

And that famous parable of the Good Samaritan who takes care of the man, beaten, robbed and left on the side of the road to die by the holy people of his day. Are we, the Church, not the Priest and the Levite who walked by, not wanting to dirty ourselves even to save a life? We’d rather preach to him, tell him God loves him, all the while pointing out his faults in an effort to change him. But we won’t kneel down in the dirt with him to offer him the help he actually needs at that moment. Who ultimately was the good neighbor? Jesus’ words: the one who showed mercy. “Go and do likewise” (Lk 10:30-37).

Condoms, oddly enough, are never mentioned in the Bible. I can’t find any single passage in Scripture that specifically states that doing something which might appear to condone sin is acceptable if done out of love. But there are plenty of examples where Jesus himself does this. Love overrides Law. It is the “Ox on the Sabbath” principle.

Am I completely comfortable with this? Not yet. It may be a little while longer before you see me at the Rodeo passing out condoms, telling people Jesus loves them. It’s still a little too far from my traditional, conservative upbringing to adjust so quickly. But I am completely convinced that this is the kind of attitude and thinking we need to embrace if we’re going to be a light in the 21st century. It’s what Jesus would do. The world seems to be falling apart, people are dying. They need God, and we the Church have failed to deliver. This is the kind of out-of-the-box action that demonstrates who we really are. This is the message people need to hear. God loves you. We love you. Our greatest desire is for you to have an intimate relationship with God. In the meantime, be safe. Here’s a condom.

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¹ Just to clarify, the condoms were not in the sanctuary and are put away during services. They were in the fellowship area of the church where the HIV testing was going on, and HIV testing sites are required by law to have condoms available.

As Americans, everyone has the right to voice his or her opinion about social issues and to try to influence legislation. I understand that conservatives may feel that their traditional values are being eroded in 21st Century America. And I can understand how some pastors may feel the compulsion to protect their flocks by taking action against what they perceive to be immoral forces at work in the world — I understand the pastoral instinct to protect. But I do not understand the motivation, the anger, the hostility, the provocation in stirring up political dissent.

In American history, great social movements have been lead by church leaders: the Quaker abolitionists fighting against slavery in the 1800s, hard-line Protestant preachers calling for Prohibition to combat the evils of alcoholism, leaders on both sides of the issue shouting over the rights of women to vote, or protesting for and against segregation of whites and blacks. Even in our own romanticized American Revolution, preachers played a significant role in urging the people to action (again, both for and against). But does that make it right? The fact that in each of these cases men of faith and integrity arduously fought on opposite sides of the cause, quoting Scripture and the divine will of God as their defense, ought to make us question the legitimacy of mixing faith and politics. As the Apostle Paul said, “we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against … spiritual forces”. And Jesus himself stated at the very birth of Christianity, before his death, that his Kingdom was not of this world, that if it was, his followers would fight — and indeed the angels themselves could be enjoined to battle for the cause. But this is not who we are. This is not what we are to be about.

Did Jesus speak out against the decadent Roman culture? Did Peter or James or John or Paul stir up the flock for political action, or call for change in the social order?

“I must be about my Father’s business.”
“My food is to do the will of Him who sent me, and to finish his work.”
“This is my commandment: Love one another.”
“Jesus of Nazareth went about doing good, and healing all who were oppressed by the devil.”
“Go into all the world and make disciples, teaching them to observe everything I have commanded you.”
“These signs will be the mark of those who believe: in my name, they will cast out devils, they will speak with new tongues … they will lay hands on the sick for healing.”

This is our job, this is our mission. To make disciples. To love. To heal. To set captives free from the bondage of sin and death. To proclaim the FAVOR of God. To call for repentance, that all people should return to God, and then announce that holy reconciliation has occurred: Mankind brought back into full fellowship with God by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Anything else for a minister is a distraction. A waste of time. A hindrance to the purposes of God. And if I may speak boldly, it is prostitution. Men and women of God are called to higher purposes: the salvation of humanity, and the maturity of the saints.

As citizens of a great republic, we have the right — even the civic duty — to voice our convictions and to vote according to our consciences. But we must never dare to drag the name of our Exalted Lord into this worldly effort. He never authorized us to act for him in this arena. Not once. His instructions are clear. And they are already more than we can handle, already more than enough for us to do. Let congregations — even pastors — march on Washington. But don’t wave the banner of the Cross in your crusade. It is not a holy fight. And, as shepherds of His flock, commissioned with a sacred trust, if that’s where your energies and efforts are devoted, then you have lost your first love. You have gone AWOL from your duty, and abandoned your calling. We walk in two worlds, and we must never confuse the two.

Is there such a thing as Christian politics? Not according to my reading of Scripture.

I’m not generally a touchy-feely kind of guy. At least not with people I barely know, and certainly not with people I’ve just met. So if I meet you in person for the first time, you can safely expect a hardy handshake. Pastor Neill is not like me. He’s a hugger. Worse, he’s a kisser. Me? I tend to think that kissing is reserved for loved ones. It’s an act of intimacy shared with only a few — despite my years in the Middle East where public displays of affection were the norm. So that first Sunday at church as the congregants filed out the door, and the pastor normally (in my experience) shakes everybody’s hand, offering a kind word on the way out, I was caught a little off guard when Neill gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. I quickly regained a grip on my composure, smiled, made some off the cuff pleasant remark, and went on my merry way. Okay, so that’s just him; no big deal. A little odd, maybe, but no big deal.

I’ve had a few lunches with him since then, trying to get to know the guy better, to figure out what’s his deal, where he’s coming from, where he’s going, and most importantly, if I want to hitch my wagon to this train. So I’ve got questions. And with years of theological training under my belt, I’ve got a lot of them. Sure, I was knocked off balance by the audacity of his vision and approach to church, but was it really kosher enough for me to make this my new home? And the hugging/kissing issue came up during one of those lunchtime conversations. I don’t remember his precise explanation so I may be mischaracterizing him, but I was left with the impression that it all ties back to making people feel welcomed, loved, and accepted. But the truth might just be a lot simpler: that’s just the kind of guy he is and how he expresses himself.

I didn’t waste a whole lot of time analyzing it. Like I said, it might not be my style, but it’s really no big deal. But today I did start thinking about it again. Isn’t this really inappropriate? Isn’t it crossing that line of intimacy that should be reserved for loved ones?

And then it came to me. That is exactly the case. The whole mission of the Church should be to bring God’s love into this world, to show people that they are accepted and loved, and to mirror that love in real life. As a pastor, Neill is the visible representation of Jesus on the earth. We all are, of course, but as “leader” of a church, he is in a more conspicuous role. For better or for worse, people do look at spiritual leaders differently; they expect more of them and hold them to a higher standard. And in that capacity, as the representative of Jesus, shouldn’t he act like Jesus would? And doesn’t God actually (not just conceptually) love everyone? Wouldn’t he want them welcomed and embraced as intimately as he knows them? Suddenly I saw the kissing in a whole new light. Jesus knows every person who walks in those church doors, and he loves them dearly. Wouldn’t he kiss them? (I mean, I know he’d kiss me, right?) If the pastor’s goal — our goal — is to tend the flock in Jesus’ place, then what better way to show the people that they are loved than to treat them like close family? What better way in this world of hurting people to say “you are loved” — even though we’ve just met?

Okay, I’m not too likely to pick up this habit, but it does make me want to reconsider hugging. On any given day, a significant percentage of the people sitting in the pews will be hurting, will be going through some hard times. And in congregations comprised of people regularly rejected by family, society, and especially the church, that percentage will be even higher. The need to model God’s love is all the more urgent. And an innocent hug or kiss on the cheek becomes all the more significant. It might be just what they need at that moment.

So the next time the pastor gives me the holy greeting, I’ll try to restrain my initial reaction, accept it for what it is, and offer up a quiet prayer. “Thank you, Jesus, for your love.”

Just one more factor to consider in rethinking how we do church.

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“Greet one another with a holy kiss.”  (Rom 16:16; 1 Cor 16:20; 1 Thes 5:26; 1 Peter 5:14)

When you’re restless, when you’re bored, when you’re tired of the same thing day in and day out, you start looking for something new. And that’s where I’ve been, oh, I don’t know, for the past two years or so. And with that latest revelation that my next step would either be helped or hindered by how I handled “radical acceptance”, I was keeping my eyes (and my options) open. So I decided to start by trying out a few new churches. I like to do that periodically anyway, just to keep tabs on what’s out there, but now I was doing it with an eye toward a real change, not just a temporary change of scenery.

I should first clarify that my ecclesiastical wandering eye was not the result of some turmoil or blow up at the church I’d been attending for the past five or six years. I wasn’t mad at the pastor, there were no quarrels with members of the congregation, and there was no conflict driving me out. I was simply looking to stretch myself, find new growing opportunities, and I’d become comfortable and too complacent there. It was time to shake the tree a little and see what fell out.

So after revisiting churches I’d attended years ago, and checking out a new high-energy type church a few times, I decided to try something more along the lines of “radical”. I’d seen advertisements for a congregation I instinctively knew I’d be really uncomfortable with, and I decided to go. It was a small, Bible-believing church with an emphasis on outreach to the LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender) community. Over the years, I’d been to a few gay-affirming churches, and they’d always kinda left me wondering why they bothered. Okay, that’s a bit judgmental and harsh, I know. They tended to be more liturgical, less Bible-based preaching, and generally more socially or politically activist. That’s fine, I guess, but it’s just not my style. And I fully expected this new church to fall neatly in that same box. I got there just a bit late, wanting to kind of sneak in attracting as little attention as possible, do my reconnaissance unnoticed, and escape with another undercover adventure under my belt. But it was not to be.

When I arrived, I was stopped on the stoop by several of the congregants, and engaged in some light banter. That in itself was remarkable. I’m usually one of those guys who barely tolerates the dreaded “everyone, turn to your neighbor and greet them in the love of the Lord” moments, screwing a smile on my face, and counting the seconds till I can sit back down in my seat and be left alone. But these people were genuinely friendly, and we actually had real conversations, not just idle words to fill in the gaps before service began. That was nice; it was refreshing. Hey, real human interaction. Who would have thought? Then came the music part of the service. An electric piano, drums, and three or four worship leaders led with a mixed list of songs, hymns, and choruses. And as we were singing, the atmosphere suddenly got warm, heavy and peaceful. And there it was, thick as a blanket covering all of us: the tangible presence of God. People behind me began weeping, I was in communion with my God, and the pastor and leaders up front recognized the presence and honored it. They didn’t rush on with their program. The didn’t fiddle with their microphones uncomfortably, they didn’t tell us to sit down to start the announcements or take up the offering. They simply began to sing some of the same songs over again, lingering in the honey air, not wanting to break their attention off the love that was flowing from us to God and so evidently from God back to us.

Knowing that the church was a haven for the gay community, I’d expected to be put off by people fitting the wide range of stereotypes. Obviously, it’s not because I disapprove of homosexuality, or even find it theologically problematic. I’ve done the Bible study, and God has spoken to me specifically about it, so I’ve long since made my peace with this controversial topic in the Body of Christ. But I’ll admit that I am uncomfortable around some of the more … shall we say, flamboyant … aspects associated with it. I’m blinded by the outward appearance, disturbed by some of the unconventional behavior, and find it difficult to connect with the real people underneath. And this is what I’d come to confront. “Radical acceptance”, remember? Could I step into this situation and see people as Jesus did? Could I overcome my own superficial prejudices and let the love of God do its thing?

There I was, surrounded by all kinds of people: gay and straight couples, friends and families, mothers and children. And yes, there were those blatantly fitting the stereotypes that made me uncomfortable. And the presence of God was there, placing his divine seal of approval on them all. These were his beloved children, people whose hearts cried out to him, who raised their voices in praise and worship of him, men and women who loved him because of his grace to them — grace denied them in other churches. And I felt comfortable there in the house of God. Jesus was there in a very real way, how could I not?

Later, I had lunch with the pastor and several of the church members, and as we talked I grew more convinced that God was actively at work. This was real. This wasn’t just a religious performance or going through motions. The pastor spoke about a few of his plans that shocked me, disturbed me, stretching my perspective in very unsettling ways. Yet, picking my jaw up off the floor, I found myself continually smiling. These were just the kinds of things Jesus would do. Yes, they were unconventional, even questionable, challenging my views of the Church, but they were motivated at the core by a love for people, for a desire to bring them to Jesus. Maybe I’ll risk offending some of my readers and write about them later, but I was excited by the vision, by its radicalness. By the heart of Jesus.

I’ve still got my boatload of issues to work through. That experience didn’t knock all my roadblocks down in a single day. But I recognized the stretching. I felt my heart being expanded, my narrow vision being broadened — and God’s fingerprints on the entire experience. The truth is, if you want to be of real service to God, you’ve got to love his people, and you cannot shy away from controversy. Fear of shaking things up or stirring up a little attention will only hold you back. And that means overcoming your hang-ups, and learning to love people unconditionally. It means embracing radical acceptance.

I’d wanted to shake up the tree a little, and I did. This was a step in that direction. And I knew I’d be back for more. Because when it comes to God’s Number One priority — people — a little “radical” is not something to avoid. It’s a God thing, and it’s good.

And occasionally, after some concentrated time in prayer, I’ll walk away, get on with my day, and suddenly out of nowhere, a spark of insight will flare up, a quiet voice will whisper a clue into my ear. It’s almost as though I have to first stir up the pot, or plow up some hard ground before the delicate words can filter through the cacophony of thoughts in my head. The latest came several weeks back. “Radical Acceptance.” And the fuller explanation trailed along immediately: if you want walk in the love of God and if you want the power of God to flow in your life without obstacle or interference, you have to practice radical acceptance. Just like Jesus did.

I’m seeking “more” — you know, that whole “what else” thing we all get when searching for true fulfillment in life. And I know I’ve got things in my life that are holding me back. Wrong thinking, bad attitudes, warped or narrow perspective, habits or lack of habits. And when I get serious with God about them, sometimes he points them out. This time, that was it. The idea is akin to the concept of “unconditional love”. We’ve all heard it preached at us. Some of us even try to walk in it, but it’s really, really hard. And for me, well, I’ve got a train load of baggage that slows me down. If I’m not careful, I tend to be critical, I tend to prejudge people — and usually all based on superficial stuff. I decide whether I like a person or not, or if I want to associate with them, or I’ll just make comments in my head, sizing people up based on outward appearance or behavior. And these snap judgments limit me. I’ve pegged a person, mentally put them in a box. I’ve bagged and tagged them. As a result, genuine personal interaction may never occur. I may never get to know that person for who he or she really is on the inside, simply because I’ve already dispensed with them in my head. And it’s not necessarily out of a superior attitude; it’s not always because I think I’m better than them or that they don’t fit comfortably in the world I’ve constructed for myself. Sometimes it’s the reverse. They’re too good, too perfect or good-looking, too holy or too successful — too intimidating to me. So my world stays small. Not only am I limiting my options for helping others, for stepping outside my box and genuinely interacting with them from a place of authenticity and integrity, but I’ve also limited my ability to be blessed by them.

There’s this verse in the Bible that pops into my head from time to time. It’s in Paul’s prayer for the church in Ephesus, that they may know “the riches of God’s glorious inheritance in the saints” (Eph 1:18). I love that whole passage, a recipe for growing in spiritual depth and maturity. But that part of it is loaded with hidden treasure. People are the wealth of God. We bless others, and they bless us just by being who they are — as they are. And if we limit our interaction, our fellowship, for whatever reason, we limit that blessing, we cut ourselves off from some of those “glorious riches”.

And we don’t have to look far in the Bible to find other examples of this. There’s that famous scene when the prophet Samuel is looking to anoint the next king of Israel. He has Jesse’s sons paraded in front of him, and he is impressed with their physical attributes: strong, tall, powerful, etc. Yet God rejects each one of them: “no, not this one.” Finally Jesse has to send for his youngest son, David, who’s out tending the sheep. And David is the chosen one. Why? “The LORD said to Samuel, ‘Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature… for God sees not as man sees. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart’” (1 Samuel 16:7). Outward appearance is always misleading, and it is never a good basis for determining someone’s true qualities.

And in Jesus’ life, he chose some very questionable people to hang around with. Corrupt officials, hated extortionists, zealots and radical political activists, despised and outcast Samaritans, women of bad moral character. Of course there were others too, like a few of his disciples who were hard-working fisherman. But I’m struck by his handling of the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4). His disciples went ahead of him into the town to find some food, while he hung back. And this woman had been married five times and was currently living with a man she wasn’t married to. And the obvious: she was Samaritan. They were people of twisted theology, a distorted view of the truth, they were a threat to orthodoxy and religious purity. Yet when Jesus’ disciples come back and are shocked to find him talking with her, he tells them “I have food you know nothing about. My food is to do the will of him who sent me.” Jesus got personal fulfillment and satisfaction from talking with this “unclean” woman. That little bit of hanging out with her WAS the work of God. Had he followed socially acceptable protocol, he would never even have looked at her much less engaged her in a conversation that brought her into true relationship with the living God.

I’m looking for more. I’m looking to do more, to BE more. And God has been whispering recently in my ear, “if you want to overcome the next roadblock in your journey to a more fulfilling spiritual life, then you’ve got to deal with this pre-judging stuff. You’ve got to stop looking on the outward appearance, and see people like I see them: from their hearts.” Radical acceptance.

Okay, the acceptance part of that seems pretty straight forward. But radical? I’m not really the radical type. So I think this is more an adverb than an adjective: it’s how I’m to accept people. Like when a cancer has threatened a vital organ in the body, sometimes a surgeon will perform a radical procedure to cut it out. My habitual sizing people up has become pretty automatic; it happens without me even thinking about it. And for these automatic behaviors, sometimes the only way to correct them is with radical, deliberate counter-behavior. Whenever I catch myself making these quick critiques, I have to stop myself, and consciously try to see the person as God sees them. Those people whose lifestyles or behaviors would normally put me off, I have to treat as Jesus would.

It’s a simple truth. The real power of God works through his love. And real love is easily blocked by our quick assessments, by our pre-judgments (prejudices!), our sizing-up of others based on surface inspection. We limit ourselves by these petty attitudes. And whether they’re based on our own insecurities, past experiences, or an unjustified feeling of superiority, they will prevent us from walking in the fullness of what God has for us. Because, in essence, we are limiting God’s ability to work through us.

Since this little nugget was dropped in my head a few weeks back, I’ve tried to open myself up to people and situations I’ve cut myself off from in the past. And the results have been truly surprising.

This is my third attempt at writing this little note, and it has become long enough. There’s so much more to consider about this. And needless to say, there’s also the other side of the balance that needs to be maintained as well. Radical acceptance does not mean to simply embrace everyone under the sun with one of those mushy “I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re all children of God” mentalities. There is a place for true discernment and separation when necessary. I’ll write more on some of these new and disturbing adventures in the days ahead. But for now I leave you with this thought in a nutshell:

If you want to the love of God to flow freely in your life, if you want to unleash the power of God, then you have to practice Radical Acceptance. Just like Jesus did.

On June 1st, President Barack Obama officially declared June 2009 as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month. Of course, June has been “Gay Pride” month since the Stonewall Riots in June 1969, and there are parades and festivities occurring this month all around the world, from Omaha to London to Tel Aviv to Shanghai. Cities around the world have cordoned off streets and beaches for the concerts and parties. The parades have become the public arena for corporate floats, aspiring politicians, community activists, churches, and everyday citizens demonstrating for civil rights and social acceptance, as well as those out just for a good time.

And then there’s the other side. The drunkenness, the public display of nudity and sexuality, the flaunting of common decency in the name of shock value “because we can”. Many of the events are family-friendly, but many should never have come out of the seedy, dark underground where practices unsuited for prime time are now being aired defiantly. It’s Mardi Gras with a rainbow flag.

Like a lot of things in our world today, Christians even remotely interested in such events are faced with a dilemma. Do I go? Do I participate? Or is this something that should be completely avoided? I asked a few of my Christian friends for their opinions, and as expected, received answers ranging all along the spectrum, from adamantly opposed, to strongly supportive, and even apathy and uncertainty in between. Regardless of the value or lack of value in supporting the cause of civil rights, is it appropriate for Christians to associate with these kinds of events and these kinds of people? As one friend quoted the Bible to me, “what partnership have righteousness and lawlessness, or what fellowship has light with darkness?” But as another countered, “how else is the light to shine except in darkness? The light shines, and darkness has not overcome it.”

Everyone will have to answer that question for themselves, according to their own motivations and conscience, but I thought it would be helpful to ask that popular question, “What would Jesus do?”

I think everyone will agree that Gay Pride celebrations are generally not for the timid or faint of heart. There are strongly motivated people out there — those advocating their liberty, those voicing opposition, and those just plain ole acting up. And it goes without saying that followers of Christ should not be involved in lewdness and debauchery. But these types of celebrations — especially this one — are filled with hurting and hungry people. And that to me is the key to solving the dilemma.

Jesus went wherever people needed him. “It is not the healthy who need a physician, but the sick. I have not come for the righteous, but to call sinners to repentance” (Lk 5:30-32). “I have come that they may have life, and have it in abundance” (Jn 10:10). This motivation drove Jesus to some very questionable places and caused him to associate with certain types of people that the more religious would never even talk to much less hang out with. His behavior and choice of companions so outraged the religious that they called him a drunk and a glutton (Mt 11:19). They accused him of being demon possessed. Why? Because he loved people. And let’s be clear about one thing here: while Jesus would not have been condoning wild revelry, he was no stranger to parties and enjoying himself. Remember his first miracle? It was at a wedding reception, where celebrating people were busy getting drunk. And what does he do? Give them more wine to celebrate. (John 2). And he was frequently seen at banquets and dinner parties, hanging around tax collectors, corrupt officials, prostitutes. The Pharisees of his day called him on it: how can you associate with such unclean people? He saw something, he knew something, that they did not. He understood the heart of God.

Would Jesus go to a Gay Pride parade? You bet he would. I doubt very much he’d be marching in it (he tended to avoid political activism since that wasn’t his purpose), but he’d certainly have a booth out on the fair grounds with big signs telling people that God loved them. He’d be shouting into the crowds (in a very undignified way), “Come unto me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” He’d say, “Come to me, all who are hungry, and let me give you what you’re seeking. Come to me, all of you who are thirsty, and I will give you water to drink that will fill your souls and overflow out of you to water others.” (Mt 11:28; Lk 1:53; Lk 6:21; Jn 7:38)

Especially at Gay Pride celebrations, where so many Gay and Lesbian and Bisexual and Transgender people have been rejected by our religious organizations, our churches, hurt by family, told they are hated by God, told they are going to hell. Is there any other group of people more needing of the love and acceptance of Jesus? Would he be among the conservative church goers there, holding up protest signs that say “Fags go to Hell”, or hurling insults at those dressed in feather boas or sexually-explicit costumes? Would he be among those throwing stones? Did he EVER do that in the Gospels? No. Today, at any Gay Pride parade or picnic he went to, he’d walk up to such scandalous people, wrap his arms around them, kiss them on the cheek, and say “You are SO loved by the Father.” Some people would reject him, now just as they did 2000 years ago. But those who hunger for a relationship with God would hug him back, and follow him to some grassy picnic area where he’d tell them stories about how the Kingdom of God is made up of people such as themselves. And from such people, he would raise up followers who would know the grace of God and see a face of God that those who grew up in the church have never seen and will never experience.

Not everybody at Gay Pride celebrations is hurt or damaged, of course. And only a small percentage of those gathered at these events will be acting in outrageous ways. Many people will be there just for the festivities and entertainment. Many of these will be fellow believers — gay and straight. And Jesus would be sitting at their table, sharing hamburgers with them, blessing them, listening to their stories and encouraging them. He’d laugh with them, cry with them, and remind them that he’s always with them and will never abandon them.

Should a Christian, gay or straight, attend Gay Pride events? That, of course, depends on your motive for being there. But when I think about Jesus, any question whether it’s appropriate or right melts away. All we need to ask ourselves — all we should be imitating in our own lives — is What would Jesus do?

I pull open my bible. I’m finished with Luke, so I should move on to the Gospel of John, but really all those “in the beginning was the word” lines just don’t appeal to me right now. Flipping the page, a section header catches my eye for some reason, and pulls me in: “Jesus Calls Philip and Nathaniel”. Thinking of a Philip I know who asked about lunch, I think I should drop him a note on Facebook. He’s started a fellowship for restaurant workers, people who normally have a pretty negative view of church folk. You know, all those after-church lunchers who take up tables, seem to always complain about the food or service, and never — absolutely never — leave a decent tip. Not a good reflection on the Church. And then there are a few other churches I know who are scrambling to attract new members. Flyers mailed out, sometimes door-to-door knocking, new holiday kids programs, or a new sign out front. Anything to “bring them in”. And I can’t help this little cynical thought flash across my mind, “if you put good food on the table, people will come — and recommend it to their friends. But if the food is bland, it doesn’t matter how much you advertise, people won’t be back.”

Philip in the bible was from a little town in Galilee, and Jesus, passing by, simply says to him “Follow me.” Philip has obviously heard Jesus teach and seen his miracles because he doesn’t even hesitate. He’s seen Jesus in action. What more did he need than that personal invitation? But the thing that struck me: the first thing he does is go tell his friend Nathaniel. “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and about whom the prophets also wrote — Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” Nathaniel is a bit skeptical, but obviously in a good-natured way: “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” And then the kicker, Philip’s response. “Come and see.”

Okay, big deal. What’s so impressive about that? So many well-intended and compassionate Christians are really exerting efforts to “save the lost”. We’ll try almost anything to get them in our church doors. And that’s great. We should have a passion to bring people to God. But so many of these “lost” people — like the disaffected restaurant servers my friend Philip is trying to reach –have already tried church. They’ve had their fill of church-goers, and it’s left a bad taste in their mouths. And their initial reaction to a church invitation is very often like Nathaniel’s, “Church! Can anything good come from there?”

Our response SHOULD be “Come and see for yourself.” But do we really have the goods? Are we serving up the feast to feed them when they actually do come in the doors? Is Jesus really there? — and I mean in more than just an “of course, where two or three are gathered he is there, so obviously God is in our midst” kind of way. Philip heard and saw Jesus in action. He experienced enough of the real thing to be able to claim that Jesus was the Coming One the Law and the Prophets talked about. Can we make that same claim? Are people genuinely changed when they walk out our doors? Is the teaching the very words of God, like Jesus taught? Are those words piercing to the heart with divine authority and power? Are people being healed, are prayers being answered? Is there a real presence of God in our congregations — one that can disrupt our well-choreographed services if and when He decides? That’s a tall order. But if we’re not filling it then we’re just playing “at church” instead of really “being” the Church — the real, physical manifestation of the Body of Christ. Maybe WE need to spend more time in the presence of the One.

It’s a cold, bright Sunday morning, and I’m sitting with my coffee, trying to connect with God. I’m about to get ready for church, and I wonder what God will do, what he will say, in our midst today. And there’s only way to find out. Come and see.

For those who are not news junkies, Proposition 8 was a state question on the California ballot during the election on whether to amend the state constitution to eliminate the right of same-sex couples to marry. It passed with 52% approving and 48% against, effectively removing the legal standing of thousands of already-married same-sex couples, and denying the future ability of gay men and lesbian women to form permanent legal bonds. In the process, it denied them access to many civil rights and benefits offered to heterosexual couples. In a word, it defined them as second-class citizens. Defenders of the amendment argue that it merely codifies what is already our traditional and religious understanding, and is critical to protect our families and preserve our valued traditions. Similar initiatives passed in other states as well.

I’m breaking my own rule here in discussing social or political topics. The mission of Cafe Inspirado is to encourage people and bring them into a more fulfilling life with God. But at the risk of offending friends on both sides, my gut tells me that there are seriously hurting people out there who need some reassuring words, people who feel shoved aside, rejected and despised — by society, their own families, the Church and by God. And while some will likely see things differently than I do, if we call ourselves followers of Christ, I think we should examine his attitude and actions towards those who were socially or religiously unacceptable in his day, and let them serve as our model.

Some obvious passages from Sunday School lessons come to mind. In one scene, Jesus is teaching in the Temple, and some teachers of the Law drag before him a woman caught in adultery. They quote the Law to him, “Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” In words burned into our cultural memory, Jesus responds, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone” (John 8:7).  And as the accusers leave in shame, he tells the woman, “Neither do I condemn you. Go now and sin no more.” Jesus’ message: Though the religious rules and establishment condemn you, I do not reject you.

At another point, when asked by an expert in the Law what he must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus encourages him to love God and to love his neighbor. “Do this and you will live.” But the man, still unsatisfied, wants clarification. “Who is my neighbor?” Then comes the famous parable about the Good Samaritan who takes care of a wounded man after all the religious people of the day had ignored him. And Jesus turns the question back on the lawyer, “Which of these was a neighbor?” The lawyer replies, “The one who had mercy”. Jesus then instructs him, “Go and do likewise”. (Luke 10:25-37)  Samaritans were despised by Jews back in those days. They were racially impure, descendents of captives brought from Babylon and other places by the king of Assyria who intermarried with the Jews still remaining in the land. They practiced a different form of the Old Testament faith, even having a temple of their own, and the religious defenders of pure Judaism considered them “unclean”. Yet Jesus chose one of them as our example for the life we should live. Jesus’ message: though others find you unacceptable, I call you neighbor.

In another account, on the long walk back to Galilee from Judea, Jesus stops and asks for water from a Samaritan woman at a well — to her great astonishment. “How can you ask me for a drink? For Jews do not associate with Samaritans” (John 4:9) Yet the people of that Samaritan town welcome him, and he and his disciples stay with them for two days. And because of his teachings, many become believers. Jesus’ message: though society labels you unclean, you are valuable to me.

In each of these instances Jesus overlooks the stricter interpretations of the Law, and emphasizes what is in his heart: mercy and compassion, not condemnation or pushing unpopular groups further away. Establishing redeeming relationships was more important to him than being legally righteous. In fact, Jesus was even accused by the more traditional Jews of his day of being a drunk, glutton, partier, even demon possessed because he hung out with prostitutes, tax collectors (corrupt officials), and other socially unacceptable people. Far from ostracizing them further, he welcomes them. And instead of the religiously observant, these outcasts become his favorite people — one of them, Matthew, even becomes one of his chosen twelve.

To approach this topic from a different angle, no one grounded in the Faith can deny that there are genuine believers out there who call Jesus their Lord and also happen to be gay or lesbian. Whether or not we approve of their actions, whether they are caught in sin like the adulterous woman, these believers are brothers and sisters of Christ. They are joint heirs of the Kingdom, washed in his blood, righteous and pure in God’s eyes — whether they threaten our traditional values or not. Who are we, any of us, to point our fingers? Disagree or disapprove, we might. But I am sobered by the certain future of standing before this same Jesus at his Throne of Glory and being examined by him. “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Mt 25:40).

If Jesus were physically present in America today, what would he do? Would he be casting votes to deny modern-day Samaritans basic rights enjoyed by others? Would he stand today with the defenders of tradition? Did he in the past? Would he join in civil protest, picket or carry signs at demonstrations to overturn cultural norms? In my opinion, the answer to each of these questions is No. My reading of the Gospels does not paint a picture of Jesus as a social activist. He did not lobby the Sanhedrin, he did not rebel against Rome or even his own religious leaders. He instructed, he coached, he challenged conventional interpretations. And in their synagogues, he taught God’s love and brought people’s attention away from the letter of the Law which kills, and drew them to the spirit of the Law which gives life. And he demonstrated this in his own personal life. Not with picket signs, but in acts of love, kindness, compassion, and mercy. Yesterday, if he were here, would he have been protesting at City Hall? Probably not. But he would be in our churches, confronting those of us who claim to be God’s chosen, standing in our faces, and asking each of us in his quiet and loving voice, “Who is my brother?”

This past election cycle voted in major changes for Americans. And with those changes come questions about what is right, what is traditional, what is moral, what is constitutional. Serious men and women of faith will form different conclusions. But it has caused me to ask again that ancient and most basic of questions, “What does the Lord expect of me in this?” And the ancient answer is still the same. “He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Mic 6:8)

My purpose in writing this is not to advocate the Biblical or spiritual validity of same-sex couples, nor to argue the sinfulness of such relationships. And although I have formed my own opinion of what Jesus would have done, neither is it my purpose to judge the decision of American voters. But to God’s people, I would ask that they examine their hearts and consider Jesus’ view on the matter. And to those wounded by this decision, I offer the words I think Jesus used to speak in the old days, and still calls out today to those with ears to hear: Come! You are loved, you are accepted by God. Though others reject you, I will never forsake you There is no condemnation, no accusation. You are the ones I came to embrace; you are important to me. The Father is waiting, and has paid all your debts. My Blood is for you. You are righteous and have peace with God. You are a valued member of God’s Family, and are welcome in His Church. Just come!