Tag: America and Worldview Page 7 of 9

I keep waiting for a political candidate who talks about sacrifice.  You know, like, In order to get our country out of debt, or fight terrorism, or get rid of racism, or care for refugees, we are all going to need self-sacrifice.  It’s going to be hard, but we can do it together.  

But I never hear it.

Instead, all I hear about is what we’re going to get.  How our lives will be better–even great–if I vote for that person.  Apparently no one wants to vote for someone who says that our lives might get harder before they can get better.

Why am I surprised?  The notion of self-sacrifice seems to have disappeared from the list of American virtues.  The average credit card debt in America is $15,000.  Divorce is easy and abortion is easier.  My body; my choice.  Personal satisfaction reigns king.  Follow your heart.  You deserve it.  You are worth it.  Have it your way.  Finding yourself seems to be the chief goal of growing up.

Of course, each person is different and redemption can be found even in the worst choices.  I am painting our culture with broad strokes and I am not casting condemnation on your individual story.  But the truth is that we as a country have lost the notion of self-sacrifice.

We have taken what should be seen as privileges and turned them into rights.  I have the right for my children to succeed.  I have the right to be safe.  I have the right to be heard.  I have the right for you to treat me the way I want to be treated.  I have the right to be happy.  

We’ve had those privileges for so long that we consider them owed to us.  So when we realize we might lose them, we are horrified.  Suddenly all of our choices become about self-protection.  How we spend.  How we save.  How we plan for the future.  How we vote.

But what Christians have forgotten is that we were never supposed to be about self-protection.  We are always supposed to be about self-sacrifice.

Fear is never supposed to define us.  But unfortunately our culture has told us for such a long time that this life is about us, that we panic at the notion of losing it.  Have we forgotten that this is the antithesis of who Christians should be?

Deny yourself.

To live is Christ; to die is gain.

Do not look only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.  

Love your neighbor as yourself.  

There’s nothing in Scripture that tells us that we need to do everything we can to protect our assets.  Or even our freedom.

America was founded on Christian principles, which was great for liberty but is now confusing for Christians.   If our government is “we the people,” then we are the government.  Which means that we are directly responsible for looking after our collective safety and freedom.  The problem comes when my focus comes off of society as a whole–others focused–and instead becomes about me.  

Of course, as a people–even as Christians–we are going to disagree about what is best for our society.  But that is not the point.  The point is that we are failing our country–and our God–when we are dominated by self-interest.  Our country will never thrive that way.  And our faith will disintegrate.

Which is why I am disheartened when I see Americans shunning refugees in the name of self-protection.  Celebrating abortion in the name of self-fulfillment.  Tolerating racism because of self-absorption, or fighting it with self-destruction.  Glorifying politicians who promise self-indulgence.

I have despaired over the state of my country.  And I must admit I don’t have a lot of hope for its future.  You can call me a pessimist, and I would love to be proven wrong.  Maybe if enough Americans start once again valuing self-sacrifice will we have a chance to change.

But I can guarantee one thing.  We as Christians will fail–as citizens of America and of heaven–if we do not step away from our fear long enough to deny ourselves, pick up our cross, and follow Jesus.  Yes, what we have had in America is great, but we need to hold to it loosely.  Yes, politics is important and we should seek the good of all people.  But at the end of the day, our loyalty is to Jesus–who specialized in self-sacrifice.  So if that costs us all things, then so be it.   

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst 

Are full of passionate intensity.

William Butler Yeats, 1919

We watch the news with horror.  We can’t keep up with the tragedy.  It’s too much, too much.  Too much pain; too much devastation.

The ceremony of innocence is drowned.

We can’t change our profile pictures fast enough before the next tragedy occurs.  Nazarite?  Paris?  Orlando?  Baghdad?  Istanbul?  Gorilla?  Black lives matter?  or is it Blue lives?  There are two many things to care about; too many things that tear at our hearts and give us whiplash from trying so hard to keep up.  Sometimes it’s easier to just pull the covers over our heads.

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed.

And all of those things don’t even scratch the surface of the problems within the four walls of our own personal universe–a child’s bad choices, money that won’t stretch, conflicts between two that share the same space, that strange lump, that broken washing machine–or those problems within the confines of our own minds–that secret sin, that devastating fear, that sense of failure that hangs on like a bad cough.

It’s hard enough facing the problems in our own small spaces; it seems too much to face the problems out there.  Especially when the problems out there start creeping into our own space like termites that eat through the walls.

Yet, there is nothing new under the sun.  Yeats’ poem was written after World War I–before Hitler murdered six million, before the atomic bombs, before Stalin starved seven million, before Pol Pot slaughtered two million, before Rwandans axed one million of their neighbors, before, before, before.

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.  And yet after, it only got worse.

There is nothing new under the sun.  But for two centuries, some Americans–some–were given the gift of a life that was different than the trajectory of history.  A life that really was peaceful and prosperous and free.  The Great American experiment worked for a lot of people, for a long time.  But for those of us who grew up in that American Dream, who rode our bikes with abandon down our streets, where violence, racism, and poverty were “out there” for other people–not for us–that Dream seemed as permanent as the sturdy oak trees in our front yards.  There was no reason to question whether it would last.

What we didn’t realize, growing up in that Dream World, is how unique our experience was–in the world, in history, even in much of America.  Our history classes focused on “western civilization”…which seemed to find its pinnacle in the life we were living right now.  We had reached the top, and there was no reason to believe that we would fall from it.

Or so we thought.

Really though, has the world actually gotten worse?  Or just our world?  

I don’t think the world is getting worse.  I just think my American Dream generation is coming to grips with the reality of life.  That blip on the screen that was the American Dream was really just an illusion, for a time covering up the deeper, sinister parts of human nature….in our society, and in ourselves.

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.

And here we are now.  Facing terribly disturbing leadership in our own country, facing deep fissures in our unity that will no longer allow to be plastered over, facing the loss of our religious freedom, facing dire financial collapse, facing outside threats to our safety like circling hyenas.

Facing what the rest of the world has always faced.  We can watch a lot of sitcoms; we can go on happy vacations; we can eat lots of good food; we can enjoy the best of America, but we can no longer tell ourselves that everything will be okay.

How do we then live?

We swallow the red pill and see the Matrix for what it really is.  We go backstage at Disneyland and see where they dump the trash.  Many, of course, have lived there all along.  We acknowledge how living only in our Dream World has hurt them; how we have failed to listen to their pleas.  We repent of our trust in that world to bring us happiness.  

There is still a way to find joy, of course.  We need not live our lives under a storm cloud.  Babies are born and marriages are celebrated even in times of war.  Sunsets fill our souls and the stars give us strength.  Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion is the best line in “Steel Magnolias.”  Brokenhearted joy is what John Piper calls it.  We bravely face the wretchedness in ourselves and in our society–even while we watch it crumble–but we remember that we hold the true source of Hope.  

The Christian life was meant to be lived in the widening gyre.  It’s what we were created for.  It’s what we are called to do.  It’s what Jesus meant when he said to pick up our cross and follow him, why he told us that his peace is not the same as what the world gives, why he said that the most important thing is to abide in him.  It’s why he told us that we would have trouble in this world, but to take heart because he has overcome it.

Things fall apart, but we do hear the falconer.  As we are faced with this new reality, which really is just peeling back the veil and seeing reality as it has always been, let us remember that we do hear the falconer.