"I am sorry"

I was going to post another in the 'Christlike' series today, but instead want to do something else. In one sense, this post won't include anything original from me, because I want instead to bring to your attention a series of four very moving videos, all posted below.

They are four poems, written and performed by Joel McKerrow (whose website can be found here). In them, he offers four apologies, for four different parts of him: the white part, the rich part, the Christian part, and the masculine part. I have a few reflections, but please watch them too.

I, also, am sorry

I'm white, rich (at least on a global scale), Christian and masculine (male, at least), so these poems are as much about me as they are about Joel. From what I've seen of him, I don't believe he is an active perpetrator (in his words, he didn't 'pull the trigger') of any of these four atrocities: white superiority, rich oppression, Christian oppression or male dominance.

I don't think I am. At least not in the big ways he talks about, and at least not often. And yet as I watch each of these videos I associate far more with the perpetrator whose confession he voices than I do with the victims to whom he pours out his heart and his apology.

And, like Joel, I wish to say that I am sorry.

The Power of Confession

On one level it isn't for me to say that. Having not taken part in the crusades, having not lived my life handing out racist slurs, and so on, it isn't for me to confess to those things. They are not my guilt. They are not my sin.

But for two reasons, I feel an apology is appropriate. The first is that, really, I'm sure that I am guilty. In small ways, I am certain that I share some of those attitudes of white pride, wealthy entitlement, Christian 'holier-than-thou-ness, and male brutishness. I'm sure I do. Even in ways I don't even realise, I am certain that in these areas I must fall, because it is so easy to. And rather than carrying on and saying 'These videos must be about other people', it is important to stand up and say 'I'm sorry'. If only because an important part of confession is repentance – a change of direction – and it will help to strengthen my resolve not to feed into such oppressive mindsets or systems.

The second reason isn't about me. It's about non-white people, the poor, non-Christians, and women. Most people (if not all) in these four categories will at some time or another have suffered at the hands of people who share my colour or wealth-bracket or faith or gender. I don't think I am a large part of the oppressions they will have faced, but I can try to be part of the solution. And they need to know that white, rich, Christian men aren't all out to get them. Some of us – many of us – are there to stand with them, to love them, to treat them the way they should have been treated all along. For people who have all their lives been subjected only to people like me who would treat them like dirt or like second-class citizens or like a project or like a thing, my apology could mean so much. They need someone to say 'sorry', and that person could be me.

So I stand with my brother Joel and say: "I am sorry."

Here are the videos...

For the WHITE part of me...



For the RICH part of me...



For the CHRISTIAN part of me...



For the MASCULINE part of me...

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3 hours, 7 minutes

This is a little story about me.

Two days ago, on Sunday, I wasn't feeling very well. I've been having back problems for a couple of weeks, and the medicine I was taking helped the pain but had the side effect of quite bad nausea. So on Sunday I had stopped taking them. The back pain was returning, but the nausea was still there.

Sunday was also a busy day. I was leading a service in the afternoon, and preaching at our church in the evening. During the afternoon service I felt very sick indeed – I had to step out for a little bit. As I got into the car to drive back to pick Mel up and head to our church to preach, I did not feel good at all.

I looked at the clock in the car. 4:53, it read. I knew the service in the evening would be over by 8:00 and I really wanted to be able to preach well. It felt very important to me. So I prayed:

"God, you know the discomfort and pain I'm in, and the sickness I feel. Please can I have 3 hours and 7 minutes without back pain and without nausea. That's all I really need to get through this."

Over the next couple of minutes as I drove, my stomach settled and I felt at ease. I started to forget the sickness, and think instead about the upcoming task of preaching. I picked up Mel, drove to our church building, and prepared myself. The odd flutter of nerves, but nothing more. I felt ok. Our senior pastor prayed for me. Mel prayed for me.

The service went on, I preached, and it went extremely well – I believe people were genuinely moved and helped by what I said, and I was able to speak and move freely. The service ended. Mel and I decided to pop in on some friends who live just next door to the church building on our way home. As I walked into their sitting room and sat down, my back started hurting again. I looked at the clock:

8:00. 3 hours and 7 minutes after I had prayed. (Part of me wished I'd asked for 4 hours and 7 minutes.)

The Moral of the Story

So, why tell this story? I like this story, and it encourages me, but we often hear these little stories of God's provision, of answering prayers. But what is the moral of this story?

That God is good? Well, not really. If I only believe God is good because He did this for me, what does that say? That He wouldn't be good – or would be less good – if my symptoms hadn't been held at bay for a few hours? That He won't be as good if I ever have to preach while in severe pain or while very sick? That doesn't sound right.

Maybe it's that God answers prayer? It certainly is an example of that, but surely that's something I should believe anyway, whether He has said a very obvious 'Yes' to something I have asked of Him in the last few days.

Or I could draw from my story evidence that God values the preaching of his word. He wanted to protect me so I could preach well. But does that mean He doesn't value the ministry of others who have to serve in the midst of pain, or that when preachers do get and stay ill then they are bad preachers?!

I don't think any of these is the lesson to draw from the story.

No Morals

In fact, I think there are no morals. Not in that sense anyway. Stories are wonderful, and they show us examples of all these things which are true. But they are never the reason that something is true.

God isn't good because He helped me. God doesn't answer prayer because He answered prayer. God doesn't value preaching because He valued mine on Sunday.

He just is good. He just does answer prayer. He just does want His word to be proclaimed.

God is God. If something is true of Him, it is true of Him, whether I see it or not, experience it or not, feel it or not. I really struggle with something I see quite a lot – our theology being shaped or defined by our own experiences. Instead, our understanding of our experiences should be shaped by what we know to be true anyway.

Stories are good. Testimonies are fantastic. I share this story, hoping it will be some encouragement to others as it was to me. It is an example of God's grace for sure, but not the only reason we should believe in God's grace.

We believe things because they are true, not because we feel them. But if they're true, we can expect to feel them every so often.

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Christlike: Being Incarnate

Last Thursday, I posted some thoughts on what it means to be Christlike. I suggested it may have less to do with copying what Jesus did in certain situations, and more to do with embodying the fundamental life of Jesus, as displayed in His incarnation, crucifixion and resurrection. The post can be found by clicking here.

Today (on another Thursday – maybe I'll start something called 'Christlike Thursday!'), I want to explore those thoughts a little more. If I'm suggesting we should be trying to be incarnate, be crucified and be resurrected in our lives, I probably ought to explore what each of those means.

And today... being incarnate.

Jesus has a head start, right?

"The word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth." (John 1:14)

Living in the spirit of the incarnation was easier for Jesus in some ways though, right? He stepped into all the mess I experience every day, and that can't have been easy. He has a bit of a head start.

He stepped into something from outside of it. He was fully God and became fully man. Every step, every breath, every bite He took, Jesus would have been intensely aware that He had stepped into something, humbled Himself and entered our condition, our situation.

He didn't have the choice of waking up one morning and deciding not to be in our situation.

Right? No, wrong. I don't think that's the case at all. Jesus decision to humble Himself was a huge thing and something He would have had to constantly – every day, every minute, every second – commit, own and choose to continue with instead of calling Dad and calling it a day. If anything, it was harder for Jesus. He stepped into something that in His very being He was not. He is God and He became human, whereas for us to be incarnate I believe means us as humans entering into the situations of people who are, like us, humans.

What Jesus did on a massive scale, we are called to do on a smaller scale (I sense this will be a theme.)

The essence of being Incarnate

There is one passage in the New Testament which stands out to me as I consider what it means for us to have the same attitude Jesus had in the incarnation. It is Philippians 2:1-11

"Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. 

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: 

Who, being in very nature God,
    did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
    by taking the very nature of a servant,
    being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
    he humbled himself
    by becoming obedient to death—
        even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
    and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
    in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
    to the glory of God the Father." (Philippians 2:1-11)

The essence here is humility. If the fact Jesus was in very nature God did not qualify Him to think more of Himself than of others, if He was willing not to look to His own interests but associate with humanity, as a servant, associating not just with the life that is mine but with the death that should have been, and if we are to have the same mindset...

I think this is a huge call. To embody the incarnation means associating with anyone in any situation and never having that attitude of condescension. I am not stooping down to serve you. I am not better than you. I am not too good to be seen with you. If Jesus – even Jesus – didn't have that attitude, then we mustn't either.

And it's not that in the end He gets the glory. The glory is all for His Father. From start to finish, however Jesus was serving and whoever He was with, He only ever points away from Himself, toward the Father. This, I believe, is what it means to be incarnate in our lives, to embody this aspect of Christ's being. This is the spirit of the incarnation.

What might that look like?

This is not mean to be a 'how to' guide. This is more about attitude than outworking, but here are a few (non-comprehensive) thoughts about some things which might demonstrate this aspect of Christlikeness:

• Willingness not to be thanked, or to carry out thankless jobs.
• Spending time with people who our society or our peers would consider 'less' than us.
• Choosing to be a servant (of whomever and in whatever situation that leads us), rather than choosing to serve in ways that are convenient to us and retaining power for ourselves (this distinction comes from Richard Foster's The Celebration of Discipline).
• Caring what God thinks more than what those around us think.
• At times, being taken advantage of (though abuse is abuse and should not just be 'taken').
• Continuing to try to help people even when they reject our help.
• Entering into situations where we are not comfortable ourselves because there is a need.
• Standing with the marginalised and forgotten of our world.
• Not spouting on about our own successes, but pointing to the success of others and, ultimately, to God.

Ultimately, to be incarnate (in humility, service and dedication) is to be able truly to say and mean the words of John the Baptist:

"He must increase, I must decrease." (John 3:30)

The whole 'Christlike' series can be found here.

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