Scott Freeman

How Did I Get Here, Part 7

Or, Bombshells

In making the transition from youth ministry to the pulpit, I threw myself into honing the “craft” of preaching.

I submerged myself into learning how to be a better preacher, how to engage the text, and repeat the process on a weekly basis.

I focused on learning how to counsel and minister to adults. I finished my Master’s Degree, as well.

As a result, I missed a lot of what was going on around me. I stayed up on politics but missed out on all the conversations that were “emerging” at the time. It wouldn’t be until I felt more comfortable as a church pastor that I would engage those conversations. But, that’s another story.

During the ramp-up to Operation Iraqi Liberation (OIL), I was an ardent supporter of military conflict. I longed for us to go into Iraq.

Killing a few Muslims, I thought, was a good thing. I even taught a class at church that perverted Just War Theory enough to justify our invasion into Iraq.

I didn’t really care if there were WMD’s there or not. I just hated Muslims. For me, that was reason enough to go. Toby Keith was my favorite theologian at the time.

My hatred was not Christ-like nor was it holy. But, as I talked about a few weeks ago, I had become good at re-writing the words of Jesus to fit my tastes.

In early 2004, I was standing in my local library (I would go broke feeding my book jones, otherwise). One of the small joys in life is discovering a book that you know nothing about.

On the shelf, was a work titled Mere Discipleship: Radical Christianity in a Rebellious World. Two of my all-time favorite books are Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis and The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I was struck by the melding of these two titles, so I picked up the book. I immediately noticed that the author, Lee Camp, was a professor at Lipscomb University, a Church of Christ School.

Taking that book home and beginning to read it was a bomb-shell for me. It was a call to righteousness and discipleship that I was not prepared for. I had heard of John Howard Yoder, who greatly influenced Camp, but had not read any of his work.

I would like to say that I quickly grasped everything, but I didn’t. I was still too hate-filled for the idea of truly following Jesus.

I loved war too much to contemplate peace.

I invoked my rule and gave up after 50 pages.

But Camp’s words would not let me go. For, I knew, that they contained truth, that the kingdom I was a part of was not an earthly one made with human hands. My allegiance was in Christ, not a nation. I had even preached against the dangers of nationalism.

I went back to Camp’s book again. And again. And again. It is one of the foundational works in my life. It has served to lead me to the writings of Yoder, Stanley Hauerwas, and others.

More importantly it drove me back to the gospels, to examine the Nazarene anew, to see with fresh eyes the radical words of a Jewish firebrand.

It was this work that began to propel me toward re-examining my faith. I began to ask some hard questions and found that the answers shamed me.

I was a Christian, but I was not like Christ.

Next: Becoming 3/4 of the man I once was

(For an excerpt from Camp’s book, click more) From Mere Discipleship

Nestled into my four-year-old’s end-of-year preschool program some months after the beginning of the war on terror was the popular evangelical Christian song “Our God is an Awesome God.” Sung by a delightful assembly of two-to five-year-olds, and orchestrated by a group of teachers who had blessed my (child) in innumerable ways the past year, the song came as no surprise…What was jolting about the song was the subtletly of its context: (The song) sung by children all wearing white T-shirts…with handsomely painted US flags, the children standing in front of a large painting of the “Grand Ol’ Flag” comprised of red, white and blue children’s handprints…Both preceding and following (the song) was a medley of patriotic songs intended to stir the souls of all present, especially when performed in the innocence of childhood.  In a very subtle way, the message of “Our God is an Awesome God” had been transformed: “America’s God is an Awesome God.”

Such displays suggest to me that many (most?) Christians in the Bible Belt apparently consider patriotism, and its first cousin, nationalism, to be manifestations of the fruit of the Spirit, a “natural” consequence of love for our awesome God.  “What’s wrong with patriotism?” one of my university students asked.  “Shouldn’t we be proud of our country?”  This way of putting the question is like asking, “Shouldn’t I be proud of my family?”  Well, yes, or course, one would hope that one has a particular affinity for one’s family.  And, or course, all families, like nation-states, have certain incidents or character flaws or dysfunctions of which one is not “proud,” but these things need not mitigate one’s love for that family.

But this way of putting the question misses the theological problem: ultimately the problem with patriotism is its very limited, sectarian nature.  In baptism, Christians become part of a community that transcends all racial, cultural, national, geographical, and natural boundaries.  In nationalism, we narrow our concerns, commitments and allegiances to a nation-state whose agenda is not the kingdom of God.  In baptism, we give up our lives so that we might be filled with the fruit of the Spirit, ready to die for the sake of the kingdom.  In nationalism, we protect our lives to fulfill a narrow, limited set of concerns, ready to kill for the sake of the nation-state.  In nationalism, our ultimate identity lies in being “American.” In baptism, our ultimate identity lies in being disciples of Christ.