Open Your Heart

Teachers are the most entertaining right before retirement.  At this point, they don’t give a rip what they say, how they say it or who they say it to.  Some choose to express their frustration.  Others, the joy of future retirement.  But great teachers choose the moment to be profound.  I was blessed to experience a great teacher in his last year of teaching.

When we first entered Mr. Strailey’s classroom that last semester, I doubt any of us students expected anything out of the ordinary.  Let’s be honest, nobody in that class was headed to Harvard.  We were the type who viewed school as something you endured, not enjoyed. 

A soft spoken history teacher with a calm demeanor, Mr. Strailey looked older than his actual age.  He had a twinkle in his eye and tended to chuckle at his own thoughts. It was like he had told a secret joke and you couldn’t help but try to figure out what it was. 

He once calmly asked a student, “Does it bother you if I do this?”  Then he held up his middle finger at him. The student gave a “that crazy old man just flipped me off” look and laughed.  His point: It’s only a finger, you give it meaning.  If we could learn to treat it as a finger and nothing more it would save us a lot of grief in our lives.

The lesson that stays deepest within me was a reflection on God.  The summer before his last year of teaching, Mr. Strailey had open heart surgery.  As the surgery neared, he decided he was prepared to die.  He told us he entered the hospital comfortable with God deciding his fate. Until he got on the table for the operation, then he realized he was “scared as hell.”

Then inviting us into the source of his fear, he asked, “who are you more afraid to meet, God or the devil?”  Mr. Strailey was more afraid of God.  The devil, in his view, has no real power.  The devil’s only a manipulator.  But God? God holds the universe together.  The sheer power of God would be terrifying to encounter.

The other day my morning devotions invited me to open my heart to receive God.  My thoughts turned to Mr. Strailey.  I’m sure the devotion leader did not have open-heart surgery in mind when presenting the invitation.  Yet, it was a more profound image for me.  His open heart surgery literally opened him up to confront the power of God. 

It never ceases to amaze me what mundane things we give power - a finger, a gesture, a look or a word.  The only power these things have is the power we give them.  If some flips you off, they may be angry, but you give a finger power if you let it ruin your day or decide to physically retaliate. It’s a finger.  It has no power.

I don’t get bent out of shape when people tell me they don’t believe in God.  At the same time, I make little effort trying to prove God’s existence. Both of those endeavors are folly.  God’s not like someone’s middle finger.  You don’t have the ability to grant God power.  God either exists or does not exist.

If you have to prove God, then God does not have much power.  I believe because I have experienced the power of God.  It’s a power that transforms and sustains life.  Not just your life and my life, but the life of the universe.  It’s a power I both love and completely fear.  

I invite you to do two things today.  One, consider the mundane things you are giving power.  Is it helping you live more fully?  Two, open your whole heart to the power of God and allow it to transform and sustain you.

From a Human Point of View

From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; 

even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, 

we know him no longer in that way.  2 Cor. 5:6

Most Christians never consider the extent of dysfunction in the early Church.  They tend to think of congregational arguments and fighting as a more recent trend in Christianity.  However, Paul’s letters to the Corinthians proves we Christians have been mastering the art of dysfunction for almost 2000 yrs.  

Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians attempts to deal with interpersonal conflict among members in the community.  He urges them to see their unity in Christ.  In the second letter, their anger has been turned from the message to the messenger, Paul.  In the face of personal criticism, Paul calls the community to reconciliation.  In order to reconcile, according to Paul, we need to see each other differently.  We need to see Christ in our neighbor to help us see Christ in ourselves.  So he writes, from now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view.

These words came to mind this past week when I read the story about a Minneapolis police officer tweeting instructions on how to run over Black Lives Matter protesters with a car.  If that were not enough, the officer also provided instructions on how to get away with it.  There are so many levels of sadness in this story it is hard to know where to begin.  It is sad that it happened on Martin Luther King Jr. Day.  It’s reprehensible that the instructions were coming from someone called to protect and serve.  But it’s increasingly disturbing how easily we can reduce human life to something that can be taken away.

The tweet reminds us, at least in terms of race, while we may someday overcome, we have not yet.  Like the Corinthian community, we have a dedication to an argument that just won’t go away.  Is it possible to do what Paul invites us to do; regard no one from a human point of view?  And, what would that look like?

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To view someone from a human point of view is to place them in a category.  Categories help us detach from the burden of an emotional relationship with another human being.  The image of a dead child on a beach unleashes our emotions.  We see in that image a life, the vulnerability of a infant, and the yearning to know who could cause such pain.  But if we can view that image from a human point of view we can categorize it.  Properly categorized, we are now talking about a poverty-stricken, Syrian, Muslim.  Then that child’s poverty is a threat to our economy, his nationality is a threat to our national security and his faith is a threat to Christianity.  See how easy it is to no longer see the gift of life?  How easy it is to be deaf towards Jesus’ command, “But I say to you love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…for if you only love those who love you, what reward do you have?”

Our country is divided over how we categorize the Black Lives Matter movement.  If you can, I would like to ask you to put away your human point of view for a moment to see Tamir Rice.  Tamir Rice was the 12 yr. old black boy shot and killed by two white Cleveland Police officers in 2014.  From a human point of view, all we need to hear is white police officers; black male with a gun and automatically the shooting is justified.  But, if we no longer regard anyone from human point of view, we might get to the truth.  Tamir was a child, playing with a toy in a park designed to provide children the freedom to play.  Those who were supposed to keep that park safe shot him.

Tamir is the person I see when I think about Jesus teaching his disciples, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”  Tamir is not a category.  He is not statistic.  He is a member of my family because Christ compels us all to be the one family of God.

  

You cannot undo years of racial conflict.  You cannot solve the Syrian refugee problem, defeat ISIS or resolve the conflict between right-wing militias and the government.  You can, however, decide to no longer see others from a human point of view.  You can make a decision to see Christ living in the heart of the stranger, the poor, the friend, and the enemy.  It’s a decision that will lead to transformation, your own and the world around you.