Laura Ferris

We Are Here: Fear, Passion, Justice

— Originally published in print // Permalink

When we ask what Christian social justice should be like our immediate answer is that it should be important. Even the most cursory look at the gospels reveals Jesus Christ’s passion for the oppressed and for justice: the crucifixion is itself the fullest expression of this passion. And now he calls us to take up our own crosses daily and follow him. The task that has been left to believers of Jesus Christ to carry out are the questions, “Where, Lord, and how?”

The beauty and terror of the gospel of Jesus Christ is that God calls us to follow Him from where we are. That means truly from where we are: Jesus is far more often found in the company of lepers, prostitutes, and tax collectors than in the Temple or the houses of honorable men. God does not value religious hypocrisy; in fact, He hates it. God requires us to come to Him honestly in our brokenness, for how can the Healer cure what we refuse to offer up for healing? Throughout the process of our restoration, we live and move about this fleeting world, so that we may share the good news of God’s saving work and, most mysteriously of all, participate in it. The Kingdom of God is present wherever His children are present.

The nature of the Kingdom of God should be reflected in the character of the children of God, a thought that should give us pause. There’s a reason why religious mystics throughout the centuries have retreated to the desert and the mountains in order to devote themselves to ascetic discipline; there’s a reason why medieval cathedrals are so stunningly beautiful; there’s a reason why Christian missionaries have crisscrossed the globe; there’s a reason why philosophers and theologians have driven themselves mad with contemplation: the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.

But if wisdom begins in fear, then it ends in passion. And passion is personal; passion is present. Two thousand years ago God incarnate was born to a poor Jewish couple in the Roman province of Judea, and he was called Emmanuel: God with us. When we worship Jesus Christ, we worship the almighty, all-powerful, everywhere-present God. We worship a God who came to where we are, and who promises that every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Christ is Lord of creation. No longer need we conform to the pattern of this world, the broken systems, the institutionalized injustice, the oppressive traditions. Instead, we are free to practice fitting submission and loving sacrifice, as intimate as marriage, so that we may learn to act justly and love mercy and walk humbly with the God who commanded us to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Do we feel the weight of our crosses, the depth of His passion? American believers live in a society that is both blessed and cursed with the expectations of Christian tradition. Christians in America are blessed with the freedom to worship, to prosper, and to have their voices heard in the halls of power. They are cursed with complacency, and the temptation to let Uncle Sam do the work of King Jesus for them. When we expect the government to enforce Christian morality out of a misguided sense of duty, we often participate in patterns of oppression that make it even harder for people to hear the name of Jesus without a bitter taste in their mouth.

Are there places we’re still afraid to go, people we’re afraid to embrace, words we’re afraid to speak? The good news is that God’s love for us casts out all fear if we turn to him, taking up our crosses. Beating the system, revamping institutions, and defending tradition are not the same things as being Christ’s ambassadors and preaching the gospel: that only happens when we hold out our hands in welcome, invite our neighbors – the gay couple down the street, the homeless man on the corner of Telegraph, the co-op kids growing pot on their rooftop – into our lives, and kneel to wash their feet.