Advocacy

If you’ve been my friend or a reader of this blog for very long, you’re probably aware that I am greatly concerned about social issues. I feel personally convicted about the poverty, racism, sexism, and other types of discrimination and inequality that I see around me. These issues take up a great deal of my time and mental energy, and I’ve even written on some of these topics before.

But I struggle with my place in all of this. As someone who’s been blessed with a great deal of privilege, I sometimes wonder if I should have a voice in these areas at all. To be honest, I’ve never been personally affected by the inequalities that I feel led to speak out against. I’ve probably even benefitted from them at some point in my life, inadvertent as it may have been. So who am I to insert myself into a situation that seemingly doesn’t concern me and speak on behalf of people I don’t represent? Who do I think I am?

And yet, I still feel led to speak. Over time and through much discernment, I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t help but say something in the face of the inequality that surrounds me. And that puts me in a bit of a tricky position. I feel convicted to say something while still recognizing that I’m not speaking from a place of personal experience. And so I often wonder how to respect the experiences of those who are oppressed while also advocating for them.

It’s taken me a while, but I’ve come up with a system that I think works well for me and what I’m called to do. This may not be the perfect system for everyone, but for those of us who feel led to speak out for those we may not necessarily identify with, it’s at least a starting point for thinking through how we can helpful without overstepping.

Listen

The first step to solving any problem is understanding it, and when that problem impacts human beings, understanding means listening to those who are affected. Without first listening, there’s no way that we can accurately address the issue at hand. And while it may sound simple, listening actually may be the hardest step in this process. It involves some difficult actions on our part.

Listening involves getting out of our comfort zone. As I said above, we’re talking about problems that don’t directly affect us and those we tend to associate with, so learning about them must include reaching out to those we don’t know. This is uncomfortable. It’s probably going to be misunderstood. And it might even receive some pushback from the very people we’re trying to connect with. But it is necessary, and I can say from personal experience that it is worthwhile.

When I was in seminary, I became involved with Mission Waco, an organization dedicated to improving the lives of the underprivileged in the community. I worked nights at Mission Waco’s homeless shelter and taught job training classes to teenagers from nearby schools. Every week, as I drove to the wrong side of town and spent time with people I’d never even fathomed speaking to before, I learned about the experiences of homelessness, of mental illness, of abandonment, of poverty, and so much more. These conversations were difficult for me, but they opened my eyes to a whole new world of people just like me who were suffering from things I could never comprehend on my own. And it helped me understand their plight in a way that literally changed my life.

But that’s not all. Listening also involves trusting the people we listen to. Unfortunately, public discourse around oppression has afforded far too little trust to those who find themselves victimized. We default to disbelieving those who say they have been treated unfairly when we should actually be doing the opposite. Is it possible that a few may lie and take advantage of us? Yes. But it’s not our place to decide who needs help and who doesn’t.

We don’t get to look someone who’s been oppressed in the eyes and say, “I don’t believe you,” because when we do, we are responsible for traumatizing them all over again. It’s not our job to judge between those who deserve to be heard and those who don’t. It’s simply our job to listen and to take seriously what we are told.

Finally, listening involves silence. We cannot hear what another person is saying if we’re too busy talking ourselves. And when it comes to instances of injustice, it is particularly important that we practice silence in the midst those who have been mistreated. At most, we can say, “I’m sorry,” or respectfully ask questions in order to gain a better understanding. But at no point are we to criticize or call into question the experiences of the oppressed. To do so would be to undermine the entire endeavor.

Nor are we to swoop in and tell those we are trying to serve what they need, as we are far too often tempted to do. It’s not our job to tell them how to fix their problems. They know better than we ever could what they need. It’s our job to listen to their experiences, their desires, and their ideas for how best to move forward. Only then can we even start to know what it is to walk in their shoes, and only then can we move on the next step in the advocacy process.

Sympathize

Listening—and especially listening well—is an important first step, but we can’t stop there if we want to affect real change. Listening and understanding are admirable, but they don’t mean a thing if we don’t actually care. That’s where sympathy comes in.

I’m a knowledge person. I love to learn new things. I want to learn every fact there is to know about every thing that’s out there. And when I get interested in something, there is no limit to how far I’ll go to understand it as fully as I possibly can. That includes social issues. Before I ever found them important, I first found them interesting. So I spent a great deal of time and energy trying to learn about them, to gain as much knowledge as I possibly could.

This is great, and I would encourage anyone who’s interested in such topics to do the same. Read books. Watch videos. Take classes. Discuss these things with experts and with your friends. We should always be seeking to learn as much as we can about the things that matter to us. But if we stop there, if we seek knowledge simply for the sake of knowledge (as I’m often tempted to do), then it’s all for nothing because it’s never going to actually help anyone.

We have to take the next step. We have to go from knowledge to compassion. For some, that step may be small or even non-existent. But for others, it might be a big step indeed. It may even involve intentional effort. There’s a reason I’ve included sympathy as one of the three steps to advocacy. Without it, advocacy cannot happen, so we must do what it takes to develop it.

Fortunately, if we listen well, we won’t find ourselves too far from sympathy. How could we truly understand the suffering of those who are oppressed and not care? How could we truly understand their pain and not feel it ourselves? The only thing left to do is to allow ourselves to feel something, to become emotionally vulnerable to the stories that we hear and to the people who tell them. I’m not saying that this will be easy, but it is necessary. And if anyone deserves our sympathy, it’s those who have found themselves mistreated by society due to no fault of their own.

Facts don’t change people. Real stories told by real people change people. And when we take the time to listen to those stories, to relate to them, to feel the depths of them, we cannot help but be changed ourselves. We cannot help but develop sympathy and solidarity with those we feel led to serve. And when knowledge and sympathy come together, we suddenly find ourselves in the perfect position to do something that will make a lasting change.

Speak Out

So we’ve ventured out and listened to the voices of the oppressed. We’ve opened ourselves up to their stories and become sympathetic to their cause. What now?

We go back.

We return to our comfort zones, to our in-groups, but we return different than when we left. No longer able to remain complacent as others suffer, we are now motivated to take action. We can’t help but do something to combat the injustice that we see in the world. And one of the most important steps we can take is to speak out.

Whereas we are called to remain silent as we listen to those who are suffering, we are called to become vocal when we go back home. In this place, to be silent would be to deny the change that has taken place within us. Advocacy is ultimately about speaking out for those who do not have a voice. It’s not that they cannot speak, but that they will not be heard among the privileged. But there’s a chance that we will, and we have a duty to take that chance.

This is how we use our privilege for something more than just ourselves. It’s the only way that I’ve found to avoid playing into the system of oppression and exploitation that gave me a head start in the first place. I don’t deserve the blessings I’ve been given, but I can use those blessings to help bring justice to those who do not have it. And in that way, maybe I can make the world a better place.

Speaking out isn’t about spreading my opinions and beliefs. It isn’t about making a name for myself. It’s about sharing the experiences and concerns of those I’ve listened to so that maybe others like me will become concerned as well. If I’ve been changed by these stories, surely others will be, too. And maybe, by sharing the changes that these stories have caused in me, I can invite others to listen and to allow themselves to be changed as well.

That’s what I’m hoping for, anyway. That’s the point of this blog post, and it’s the point of a great deal of the conversations I have on a daily basis: taking what I’ve learned and felt through my experiences with the underprivileged and sharing it with others who, like me, have never experienced systemic injustice firsthand. It is my hope and prayer that we will collectively become more aware of and more concerned for these social issues and those who are affected by them so that together we can have the hard conversations and make the hard choices necessary to remove these inequalities for good.

And I believe it all starts with us being willing to listen, to sympathize, and to speak out. Will you be an advocate?

The God of Exceptions

Last Wednesday night, I was ordained into the ministry by my church. Surrounded by my friends, family, and mentors, I was able to share and confirm my calling with those I love. It was an incredible night, and I am so thankful for everyone who played a part in it.

For my blog post this week, I'd like to share the sermon I wrote and delivered for this service. It's something that I've been thinking through for the past couple of years, and I think it represents my hopes for my ministry going forward. I've embedded the video below, but I've also included my manuscript in case you'd rather read it. As many of you know firsthand, I'm a much more natural writer than speaker.

Either way, I hope you enjoy it.

One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.” —Luke 23:39-43

If you ever attend a Passover seder, you might notice something a little peculiar. Sure, you’ll see the expected Passover lamb and unleavened bread. We know all about that. But then you’ll also see the cups. As part of the meal, everyone gets a cup of… well, Free Will Baptists call it “grape juice.” There’s one for mom, one for dad, maybe one for grandma and grandpa, and one for every aunt and uncle, too. But once all the cups have been passed out, you might notice that there’s still one more. There’s an extra cup just sitting there, full, ready for someone to drink it. And you might wonder, “Who could that be for?”

And if you get up the courage to ask, the family members will be happy to tell you exactly who that extra cup is for. It’s for the prophet Elijah. As you probably remember from the book of 2 Kings, Elijah’s life didn’t end the way human lives normally do. Whereas most people throughout history have died, had funerals, and been buried, Elijah took a different, more theatrical, route. You see, when Elijah’s time had come, he did not go gentle into that good night. Instead, he rode off into the sky in a chariot made of fire, leaving nothing but his cloak and his stupefied apprentice behind.

And it only makes sense that if Elijah went riding off into the sunset, he’s got to come back down eventually. He never actually died, after all. And good Jewish families want to be sure that if the prophet shows up for dinner, they’ll be ready for him. And so, every Passover seder, they set out an extra cup just for Elijah in case he decides to grace them with his presence that evening.

Now, I’m not telling you this to make fun of this practice. In fact, I think it’s beautiful. It highlights a truth that these Passover celebrants are often better at recognizing than we often are. It celebrates the fact that we worship a God who loves to make exceptions to the rules.

And don’t you just love it when you get to be the exception to the rule? It makes you feel special, right? I remember when my family and I went to Disney World, we had the best time. My brother had just had knee surgery, so he was in wheelchair, which meant that we got to go the front of all the lines! We didn’t have to wait 45 minutes to get on the Tower of Terror like all of those able-bodied suckers in the back. No, we got to march right up to the front and hop on in no time as everyone else gave us death stares and we just smiled.

We like to be the exception to the rule. It’s fun when you get that free refill at your favorite restaurant. Or when you get to use that coupon that expired yesterday. And I think most of us have experienced the relief that comes when you get caught driving just a little faster than you should be and the officer lets you off with a warning. I’m not saying we shouldn’t have rules. Rules are in place for a reason. But we all have times when we enjoy the benefit of being the exception.

And in our text from Luke, we see another example of someone who benefitted from being the exception to the rule. The man being crucified next to Jesus wasn’t a saint by any means. We know that at the very least, he was a thief, and who knows what else he did to get himself up on there on that cross? Whatever it was, he clearly felt like he deserved what he was getting. Little did he know that he was about to get so much more than he deserved.

Can you imagine what it must have felt like for that thief when Jesus looked him in the eyes and said, “Today, you will be with me in paradise”? If I were him, I would be dumbstruck: “Wait a second. I’m being killed for my crimes, and here the savior of the world is telling me that I’m going to go hang out with him when this is all over? How did we get here?”

You see, that thief was mere hours away from a terrible fate. He’d lived his life, he’d made his choices, and now, he was about to suffer the consequences of what he had done. When Jesus turned and looked at that man, he saw someone headed for hell. But when he looked away just a few moments later, everything had changed. With one sentence, Jesus reversed the trajectory of that man’s eternity.

It wasn’t anything that that man had done. He hadn’t made any sacrifice or prayed any special prayer. He just… hung there as Jesus declared that he was saved. This thief was the first person to receive eternal life through Jesus Christ, and he received it for no other reason than that Jesus chose to give it to him.

That, my friends, is the greatest exception to any rule in all of history. A human soul on its way to hell suddenly changed course by the grace of God, and now, that thief will spend eternity in heaven. The importance, the innovation, the incredible nature of this event cannot be understated. In this moment, God made an exception to the rule, and it changed everything.

God made an exception for Elijah. He made an exception for the thief on the cross. And he continues to make exceptions to this day.

The truth is that each of us in this room who are Christians have benefitted from being made exceptions to the rules. The rules say that anyone who commits sin, who turns away from God, who participates in the brokenness of this world, is deserving of separation from God, spiritual death, and eternal punishment. That’s what the rules state, clear as day. But praise God, he made an exception out of each and every one of us. God broke his own rules. He broke into history, overcame sin and death, and gave each of us an opportunity to be an exception to the rule. To know him. To be reconciled to him. And to live forever with him. Aren’t you thankful for that?

And as I read this story and reflect on what it means for God to make exceptions to the rules for us, it makes me wonder about ways that we can share in that, ways that we can make exceptions to the rules for others.

The rules say, “An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.” Except, Jesus taught us to forgive others rather than to seek revenge.

The rules say, “If you don’t work, you don’t eat.” Except, my church has a food bank every Monday from 1:00 to 3:00. Won’t you come?

The rules say, “A preacher can’t have a haircut like that!” Except, here I am. Sure, my church family likes to poke fun at me for my (admittedly unorthodox) hairstyle, but they don’t mean it negatively. Many of the people at my church are as old-school as they come. And yet, they accept me with all of my quirks. As trivial as it may sound, they’ve made an exception out of me in this, and I can’t thank them enough.

The rules say that our society is divided on social, racial, economic, and political lines that cannot be crossed and cannot be reconciled. Except, the Bible tells us that, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus“ (Galatians 3.28). And may I add that in Christ, there is no black or white, no rich or poor, no liberal or conservative. We are called to be the exception to the rules that try to divide us.

The rules say that this world is a broken place full of fallen people and that nothing good can come of any of it. The rules say that we are selfish, sinful people who aren’t interested in anything except our own well-being. The rules say that we are helpless in the face of the evil that surrounds us and that all that’s left for us to do is to give in. Except, we worship a God who sets us free from all of that. Who breaks the rules for us and invites us to do the same for others.

We serve a God of order. A God who made the rules that we adhere to. But we also serve a God of grace. A God who makes exceptions to the rules, who performs miracles, who lets us off the hook when we clearly don’t deserve it.

Here’s the thing about grace. In the words of one of my favorite musicians, “The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair.” It’s not fair when an exception is made to the rules, and some people may not like that. But we serve a God who has a habit of making expectations to the rules, and my hope for my ministry is that I can share the grace that’s been given to me, that I will alway seek ways to share that exception-making with as many people as possible. And I invite you to do the same.

Ding

I’m standing in the doorway of my office, leaned against the doorpost, having a casual but enthused conversation with a coworker about the upcoming Star Wars movie. As we’re swapping theories about the latest trailer, I feel a vibration on my wrist. Then another one. And another one. It’s my smartwatch letting me know that someone is texting me. The haptic indicator is unnoticeable to my friend, but for me, it’s nearly impossible not to recognize it. And then I have to ask myself: Do I disengage from this enjoyable conversation to check my text messages, or do I ignore the constant buzzing on my wrist?

Later, I’m at my computer editing graphics for a marketing campaign, and I see a rounded rectangle slide in to the top right of my screen. Instinctively, I avert my attention to the notification, which informs me that I am once again the lucky recipient of a piece of junk email. I navigate away from the task at hand to my inbox, delete the message, inaudibly curse the sender of the unwanted message, and then try to return to the work, slightly less focused and markedly more agitated.

That night, I’m sleeping soundly in bed. The lights are off, and the only sound in my house is the soothing white noise coming from the table fan that I’ve never actually used to cool myself. Suddenly, I’m jolted awake by my phone’s bright screen accompanied by a chirping noise. Groggy and startled, I reach over and grab my phone to see what the commotion is about. The vital information that I just had to know in the middle of the night? Some stranger liked a dumb joke I had made on Twitter at lunch.

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As time goes on, it seems that I’m getting more and more notifications on more and more devices. Texts on my phone. Emails on my computer. Facebook pokes (yes, they’re still a thing) on my iPad. Exercise reminders on my watch. New releases on my gaming console. Software updates on my TV. The low battery indicator on my Bluetooth speaker. Everywhere I turn, something is dinging, pinging, buzzing, or full-on screeching in an attempt to get my attention and deliver some information that I just have to know right that second lest the world seemingly fall apart.

And of course, I buy right into it. The constant slew of notifications has trained me to react with near-Pavlovian compulsion to each and every one. I can’t help but look when a notification comes my way. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even notice myself lifting my wrist and looking down at my smartwatch each time it vibrates. It’s become muscle memory. The gap between stimulus and response is practically nonexistent and—worse—completely subconscious.

This relationship with digital notifications begins at a positive place: We want to know what’s going on in the world, and notifications are supposed to help us keep up. When a friend texts us asking if we’d like to go out, we want to know so that we can respond with, “Heck yes I do!” When a family member calls to deliver important news, we don’t want them to get sent to voicemail. And when a supervisor sends an email requesting an update on the latest project, we know that responding quickly is key for future success. These notifications are helpful, even necessary. And so we buy into the system.

But then they just keep piling up. Suddenly, streaming apps wants to notify us every time a new show is added to their service. Our favorite restaurants ask to send us reminders about new menu items and limited-time offers. Social media networks demand that we pay attention every time someone starts typing a message to us, and again when they send it. (I’m looking at you, Snapchat.) Eventually, the amount of notifications we receive in a given day becomes so great that it’s unmanageable, and it begins to have a negative impact on our lives.

These notifications are distracting. We struggle to hold a conversation, enjoy a meal, or read a book without taking intermittent breaks to check our phones. We can’t even sit through a movie or TV show (which are meant to serve as distractions from real life) without getting distracted by our digital lives. These notifications divert our focus from what’s in front of us to something in the ether. And so we go about our lives only halfway-present to the people and tasks that we should be fully devoting our attention to.

They also form nasty, compulsive habits. Every time we get an Instagram like or a response from a friend, we get a tiny endorphin high. Our brains come to associate those tones and buzzes with attention, support, and excitement. And every time we check our phones, we reinforce this subconscious link. It’s a self-perpetuating cycle that leaves us staring at our screens waiting for the next notification to come in. (Don’t act like you haven’t done it.)

Not to mention that they are dangerous. They keep us from sleep, keep us from focusing while we drive, keep us dependent on our devices for comfort and interaction rather than finding those things on our own. It might sound like a trivial problem, but the stakes aren’t low here. There are real consequences to these issues that need to be addressed.

And on top of it all, most of these notifications are absolutely worthless. They’re garbage. We literally refer to them as “junk.” Be honest: What percentage of the emails that come to your inbox on a daily basis actually add value to your life? How often do you find yourself swiping away notifications because they’re in your way and don’t offer any relevant information? Do you ever find yourself frustrated or disappointed when your phone goes off and it isn’t what you were expecting? The truth is that we don’t need the majority of the notifications that come across our devices every day. They don’t offer any value to us.

Which has led me to the conclusion that if I never received another notification for the rest of my life, I’d be better off for it. It would be better for me to miss out on some texts, calls, and emails than to keep being bombarded by the never-ending slew of crap that’s coming to my devices each and every day. I would be less anxious, more present, and much happier if the notifications simply stopped altogether. What a sad realization.

I am the last person in the world to speak ill of technology. I love technology. It’s my career. It’s my hobby. It makes up a great deal of my life, and I get so much enjoyment out of it. But technology can be misused, and I believe it’s currently being abused to the point that it’s having a marked impact on our overall quality of life. As someone with a deep affection for technology, I can’t help but seek a better way. And I believe that a better way exists if everyone will do their part.

Part of it lies on the sources themselves. People and services need to start offering higher-value content if they want our time and attention. If something is going to interrupt my life and demand my focus, it better be pretty dang important. The ability to enter someone’s life at such an intimate level is no small thing, and it needs to be taken seriously by those who are sending out those notifications.

We also need to be given more control over our notifications by the makers of the technologies we use. Sure, there are some decent options right now, but they often require digging deep into a device’s settings and going through meticulous lists that most people just aren’t going to bother with. I should be able to define who I want to hear from and when. I should be able to tell my phone to only show me work emails during business hours and that while I’m asleep, only a handful of chosen people should be able to wake me up. If I really want to monitor one particular post I’ve shared on social media, I should be able to turn on notifications for that particular piece of content without getting notified every time someone comments on some silly video that I liked last week. Giving users control over their notifications would at least give us the option of unplugging a bit when we want to.

But ultimately, the responsibility lies with us to take control of our digital lives. Because we’re the ones who have to deal with the consequences. If you can’t kick the impulse to check for new likes every five minutes, delete the app for a while. If your family members complain that you aren’t paying attention to them, turn the dang phone off and enjoy a meal with them. If you can’t sleep at night because of the dinging and buzzing coming from your nightstand, there’s a “silent” option on your devices for just such occasions. It’s on each of us to make use of the tools we have (limited though they may be) to keep the notifications at bay so that they don’t prevent us from living our lives.

We’re in desperate need of a shift in thinking when it comes to notifications on our devices. We can’t go on like they are all valuable and we need them in our lives. We can’t go on like compulsively checking them isn’t hurting our relationships with those we love. We can’t go on like relying on these notifications for entertainment, comfort, and fulfillment is a sustainable lifestyle. We can’t keep ignoring the problem and passively checking every notification that comes our way.

Our devices offer us the ability to connect with others and stay informed about the world in ways that we never thought possible, and our lives are better for it. But they also offer never-ending sources of buzzes, dings, and other intrusions that aren’t worth our time and attention. Learning to distinguish between the two and remove the latter from our lives isn’t just important: It’s essential if we’re going to thrive in the digital age.

The Question We Can’t Escape

Alright, I’ve avoided the question for long enough. And whether I knew it or not, my articles the past couple of weeks have really been building up to this. We’ve talked about what we ask after a tragedy, and we’ve talked about what we don’t ask after a tragedy. Now it’s time to address the question that keeps coming back time after time, whether we’re ready for it or not. Let’s talk about theodicy.

In a nutshell, theodicy means the question of evil: How is it that evil exists in a world ruled by a loving, all-powerful God? Why do bad things happen?

As I said last week, this question is worth exploring, but only under the right circumstances. The types of conversations that this question produces are intellectual, theological, and philosophical in nature. The point isn’t to make someone feel better, but rather to explain a very difficult truth. Which is why I left this question out of the discussion up to this point: It’s not the type of question one should be discussing while still reeling from a tragedy.

When we talk about theodicy, we’re entering the world of apologetics, which focuses on defending the logic of the Christian faith. I know a lot of people are enamored by this topic. I personally don’t focus on it much, and I’m by no means an expert, but this question in particular came up in nearly every class I took in seminary. It’s one that is inescapable in the life of faith, and so it’s one that we each must have an answer for.

What follows is my approach to the question. It’s one (informed) take, but it’s not necessarily the universal answer for everyone. I hope that you find it compelling and helpful, but if not, please know that there are other perspectives out there that I would invite you to explore.

Why do we exist?

When we ask the theodicy question, we tend to take an anthropocentric view, focusing on the bad things that happen to human beings. Of course, this isn’t the only way of thinking about the question of evil, but it’s the most common one, so it’s the one that I’ll address here. If we want to understand why bad things happen to people—and specifically to us as individuals—we have to first take a step back and understand the purpose of human existence in the first place.

Why did God create us? After all, God was perfectly complete on his own. He didn’t even need us in order to have relationship. The Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit exist in perfect union as the Trinity. And he didn’t need us to rule over because he was already the lord of the universe. No, God didn’t need us for anything. Rather, he created us because he wanted us.

We serve a God who wants to know others and to be known by them. We serve a God who wants to share life with others. And ultimately, we serve a God who wants to love others and to be loved by others. And guess who those “others” are? Us.

That’s our purpose for existing: to know God, to live life with God, and above all, to love God. Of course, we use other words to describe these sorts of things. We say we’re meant to enjoy God, honor God, glorify God, worship God, obey God, and on and on. All of these things are true, but I think they can all be summed up in these three actions: knowing God, living life with him, and loving him. That’s what God made us to do.

What does it take?

But in order for that to happen, some things have to happen first. Love has some prerequisites in order for it to be real. And the most important of those prerequisites is free will. Love cannot be compelled. God does not want a planet full of robots saying, “I love you, God,” on cue. No, he wants people to choose to love him of their own will. Anything less would be meaningless.

But of course, having the free will to love God necessarily requires the option to not love God. To turn away from him. Even to despise him. And so, when God gave human beings the capacity for love, he inevitably gave us the capacity for rebellion. And that’s where sin and evil come into play. When we turn away from God and his plan for our lives, we commit sin, and sin has consequences.

And what are the consequences of sin? Well, we call them “evil.” We call them that because we don’t like them, and they cause us immense suffering. Things like death, heartbreak, and pain are all natural consequences of sin. But these consequences aren’t limited to just the personal, individual level. Larger-scale evil like disease, natural disasters, systemic injustice, and acts of terror are also just as much results of sin as instances of evil that are more easily traced to individual human actions.

Because for almost as long as we’ve been in existence, humans have been committing sin and rebelling against God. We’ve used the free will that God gave us for our own selfish purposes, and the evil that we see around us is simply the natural result of that. God did not create evil; we did, through our evil actions. And when we point the finger at God for terrible things that happen, we’re simply trying to distract ourselves from the fact that all of the bad things that take place ultimately point back to us.

Evil is nothing more than the consequence of the sins committed by human beings on a personal, societal, and global level throughout history. Our world, nature, society, and the universe itself are ravaged by the results of our centuries-long rebellion against God, and so when bad things happen, we really have no one to blame but ourselves.

I want to be clear here: I am not saying that any individual instance of evil can be tied to any individual sin, whether it be personal or collective. There is a tendency to look for a group to blame whenever a natural disaster hits or a mass shooting takes place. This impulse is natural but misguided. The relationship between sin and evil is deep; it’s complex, and it goes back farther than even our history books. It’s not that any particular decision causes any particular evil result, but that our continual acts of rebellion against God continue to keep the world in a state where these sorts of evil things can and do happen.

What now?

So God gave us free will in order that we may love him, and we instead used that free will to turn our backs on him, with the ultimate consequence of that rebellion being the evil that we see in the world today. What are we supposed to do about it?

I think the most obvious thing is to turn back to God and live out his purpose for our lives. If we’re meant to know God, to do life with him, and to love him, then doing those things will by definition lead to a good life. We’ll still live in a fallen world, and we’ll still feel the effects of evil, but we won’t have to live under the oppression of our own sin. God became a human being in Jesus, and he overcame sin and death, giving us an opportunity to forsake sin and return to him. This is the most important way that we can combat evil in our world.

We must also pray. God set up the world in such a way that our prayers have an effect on the world around us. Prayer changes things. It can lead to healing, both of people and of societies. It can lead to reconciliation. It can lead to safety. It can combat evil in so many ways that we don’t even understand, and that’s OK. We don’t necessarily have to understand it all. We just have to be faithful to pray and ask God to intervene for us against evil.

We also have an opportunity to combat evil by resisting it when we see it in the world and when we’re tempted to participate in it ourselves. Hatred, bigotry, selfishness, violence, and so many other forms of evil are all around us (and sometimes, tragically, inside of us). We cannot simply stand by and allow it to take place. When we see it in the world, we are called to speak out against it, to resist it with the influence that we’ve been given. And when we see it in ourselves, we are called to repent of it and to do better.

And finally, we have no other choice but to trust in God’s ultimate plan for the world. Evil has free reign for now, but we know that in the end, God will one day overcome evil once and for all. He will remove it from the world and cast it into utter destruction. His plan for the world—the way that he always intended for it to be—will one day become a reality, and when we trust in that truth and live with it as a reality in our lives, we are fighting evil in our own way.

The world is broken; no one can deny that. We broke it, and we see the consequences all the time. But ultimately, God is on our side. He wants to know us and to be known by us. He wants to walk through life with us. And he wants to share in a loving relationship with us. When we choose to say yes to God, we see just how good he is. And he is good. He’s the only source of good we can turn to in a world overrun by evil. In the end, good will prevail over the evil that currently oppresses us, and if we choose to be on the side of good, then we will prevail over it, too.

On Coexistance

When most people see the symbol above, they have a clear, instant reaction. Whether positive or negative, it’s nearly uncontrollable. Some will agree with the sentiment and say, “Of course we should put our differences aside and learn to peacefully coexist with another.” Others will reply in disgust, “Coexistence and toleration are nothing more than euphemisms for forcing everyone to give up their beliefs and differences!” It’s unfortunate, but the concept of peaceful coexistence has become politicized to the point that it’s polarizing. This should not be so.

Learning to live with and among people who believe differently than we do is a necessary part of contemporary life. Globalization and pluralism have left us in a situation where we no longer have the option of surrounding ourselves exclusively with people who are like us. At work, at school, in our communities, and everywhere in-between, we are surrounded by those who look, act, and think differently than we do. And this doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

The truth is that diversity, while it is certainly complicated, is actually beneficial. People from different backgrounds and worldviews offer valuable insights and perspectives that lead to more effective problem-solving. Learning about the experiences of others helps us understand the world more completely. And listening to what other people believe offers us a challenge to truly define and articulate what we ourselves believe. (It also helps protect against the creation of echo chambers and the radicalization that inevitably comes with them.)

And for those of us who follow Christ, living in harmony with others is also a mandate of our faith. In Romans 12.18 (ESV), Paul commands, “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” That word “all” is inclusive. It means everyone, even those we disagree with. Even those who we perceive as hostile towards us. If you are a Christian, part of your call as a disciple of Jesus is to do everything within your power to peacefully coexist with others. In fact, our faith compels us to be the leaders in reaching out to others and building bridges where there are none. I think we’ll find that when we live up to our end of this call, most others are happy to meet us in the middle.

But as we all know, humans have an awful track record of peacefully coexisting with one another. We’re naturally tempted to resist diversity and stick with our in-groups. How do we overcome these hurdles and learn to live together? What does coexistence even look like? Here are a few of my thoughts on the matter.

Coexistence means nuance. Black-and-white, us-versus-them thinking simply will not do. The world is full of complex people who find themselves in complicated situations, and rarely are things as simple as we’d like them to be. There are grey areas everywhere. Your neighbor might not agree with you on political or religious matters, but that doesn’t make them a bad person; it doesn’t even necessarily make them wrong. If we want to live in harmony with one another, we must learn to lean in to the nuance, to learn more about the complexities of people and situations rather than simply declaring them good or bad.

It also means empathy. I recently learned that perspective-taking, the practice of imagining an issue or situation from another person’s point-of-view, is a skill that must be acquired and practiced. Being a natural perspective-taker myself, I always assumed that other people were constantly doing so as well. (Ironic, I know.) But the truth is that we are all far too caught up in our own concerns to consistently consider how the world might look to someone else. Extending empathy to another person is the first step towards building a meaningful relationship with them, and only through empathetic understanding will we be able to peacefully coexist with others.

Finally, it means cooperation. Research shows that the best way to foster solidarity among differing groups is to give them a common goal to work towards. And the truth is that we want many of the same things: safe communities, freedom, justice, and for everyone to have enough to get by. We cannot accomplish these great things on our own. We can’t do away with social evils and make the world a better place unless we’re willing to work together with those who are different from us. And once we choose to do so, we’ll find that this practice of living in harmony with one another becomes easier, almost natural, with time.

So those are a few things that are necessary for peaceful coexistence, and they’re all good things. But it’s also important that we acknowledge a few things not required for peaceful coexistence, lest we lose our way or fail to acknowledge the concerns of those who may be hesitant.

Peaceful coexistence does not mean relativism. In fact, it’s based on the universal truth that respectful diversity is superior to isolation and seclusion. Living peacefully with other people does not mean that you have to condone everything that they believe and do. Believe it or not, other people aren’t constantly seeking your approval. They don’t want you to think that they’re right; they simply want you to respect them and their right to believe what they believe. As noted above, living in a diverse context requires a certain toleration for nuance, but nuance and relativism are very different things.

Just as living in harmony with others does not mean you agree with them, it also doesn’t mean have you to give up your own beliefs. The goal isn’t to make everyone the same. Diversity, while messy, is still preferred to uniformity. You can and should hold to your values because they make you who you are. But you must also be willing to accept the rights of others to hold to their distinct values, too. And who knows? As you do life together and share your beliefs with one another, you may find value in aspects of one another’s beliefs, and you may be able to enrich one another in ways that you both would have missed out on otherwise.

Last but not least, peaceful coexistence does not mean homogeny. One group doesn’t get to be in charge and “allow” other groups to exist so long as they stay within the boundaries set by the dominant group. If we really want to peacefully coexist with another, everyone has to get a seat at the table. Again, this isn’t relativism. There are still universal truths and values that must be recognized. (For example, white supremacist Nazis don’t get a say, and we will not apologize for that.) But peaceful coexistence does require that no one group accumulates all the power, no matter how tempting it may be to do so. Every person has value and deserves respect, and trying to minimize a person’s value or input because they are not a part of the dominant group will not lead to a harmonious life together.

Ultimately, the call to peaceful coexistence is a call to humility. There are so many different kinds of people in the world because there is no one right way to be. No one has it all figured out. That’s why we need each other. We need to teach one another. We need to challenge one another. We need to make one another better. And we need to come together to make this world a place where every person can enjoy the good things life has to offer. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. We can choose to do what it takes to coexist. Will you?