...gathering beside the flood

So now let peace and justice be never far apart,

but flowing like a river for every thirsty heart.

These two shall be united, a mighty flowing stream,

upon whose banks we gather to work and pray and dream.

---Ken Medema, 2003

One thing I’ve noticed lately…peace does not have a very powerful reputation. In an age where even our words are weaponized, the idea that peace could be strong, or courageous, salvific in a world of self-made chaos—such an idea is foreign, unsettling, maybe even a little bit radical.

Now it’s true, that there can be an uneasy peace-and-quiet sort of peace overlaid like a coverlet on a reality of fear and hatred and warring. That creepy sort of quiet from suspense movies, right before the villain bounds out from his hiding place to hatch his dastardly plan on his poor, doomed, should-have-known-better victim.

But there is a powerful peace, and it is real. This peace is rooted in justice—justice that seeks the good of the village, and the equitable treatment of neighbor. When this steady, seeking justice and this powerful, persistent peace join streams, their rolling becomes a massive force that is transformative and healing. Beside that flood we can gather, and dream a new way to live together.

Because empowered peace can change the world.

Happy Birthday to My Favorite Radical

O holy night! The starts are brightly shining, it is the night of our dear Savior's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Truly he taught us to love one another, his law is love and his gospel is peace.
Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother, 
And in his name ALL oppression shall cease.

The beloved French carol from the mid-19th century, 'Cantique de Noel', lays bare any comfortable, status quo message contained in the typical Christmas card. The Baby born today brought no message of "atta boy" and "You're doing a heckuva job, Brownie". The birth of this Baby, instead, was a clarion call for the turning of the world; and not a thing would ever be the same. With the break of a new morning, the old day passed away. With Jesus' birth, the value of each soul was upheld, and treating all people as sisters and brothers transformed relationships and communities. As easy as it is to see how popular this carol would have been with 19th century abolitionists, we give ourselves too much credit, perhaps, to think that our 21st century society values everyone equally. Who are the people we see as unclean, unworthy, or just a little too 'out there' to be included in the number of God's family today? What oppression is there yet to cease? And what is our responsibility in ending that oppression? No gospel for the weak of constitution, the message from this Baby-turned-radical. Lord, I want to be in that number!

So, happy birthday, Jesus! You will always be my favorite radical.