Always Hope


One would think I would be used to it by now. Intense political rhetoric from (occasionally) well-meaning and self-lauded pundits who are absolutely convinced of their own rightness. Ecclesiastical debates that often feel more like the drawing of battle lines than they do a heartfelt and reverent search for the implications of the Gospel. Cancer manifesting its cruelty in the lives of beautiful and unsuspecting people who are seemingly doing everything right to stay healthy. Another heroin overdose, another gut-wrenching and heartbreaking funeral.

Yeah, one would think I would be used to it by now. The problem is, I am not.

I am weary today. I am saddened. My heart is heavy with a pain that I am not even able to delineate and analyze. It is the kind of disquietude that interrupts my sleep and distorts my temperament. So many words being spoken and arguments being sought. So many tragedies being accommodated by fragile souls. So many people assuming the absolute worst about others.

And yet…

Ah, yes. There’s the Gospel in a nutshell: “And yet…” That simple phrase calls to mind the redemptive presence of a God who is always at work to bring about a new reality that runs counter to the existing circumstances. There is pain AND YET God brings healing. There is death AND YET God generates resurrection. There is suffering, AND YET God awakens hope.

Hope. I needed to type that word this morning so that I might see the letters and speak them out loud. Hope. By “hope,” I do not mean a passive disengagement. Neither do I mean an anemic wishfulness or a superficial outcry for how we would prefer things to be. Rather, I mean the kind of hope that the writer of Hebrews had in mind when he told us to “hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful” (Hebrews 10:23)

That, I think, is the transformational discipline that people of faith call “hope.” It is the nurturing of a sturdy conviction of life’s abundant potential. It is the belief that God is steadily leading us toward the redemptive ground that exists just beyond the edge of our brokenness. It is the life-giving trust that the mistreated threads of our tattered garments are being woven into the richly beautiful tapestry that God is making out of our history.

Hope. It is the gracious gift offered by a God who specializes in transforming sharp-edged rhetoric into relationship; a fractured church into a Christ-centered communion; tragic death into vibrant new life. Hope.

I have shared this song with many of you before. I share it again, simply because I need to. I am honored to stand with you, sisters and brothers, in this meaningful journey called hope.

Always Hope (Words and music by Eric Park)

I can see the broken pieces
I can trace the pain
The bitter tears your soul releases
Falling down like rain

I won’t minimize the anguish
You’re inclined to feel
Though I’ll beg you not to languish
In your own ordeal

There’s always
The conviction of a life’s potential
The assurance of a grace essential
The belief that tears we shed aren’t wasted
The remembrance of a joy once tasted

Purge me of my platitudes
My impulse to explain
No condescending attitudes
No clinical refrain

I won’t sabotage the silence
That your wounds demand
Though I’ll join your deep reliance
On a gentler hand

There’s always
The conviction of a life’s potential
The assurance of a grace essential
The belief that tears we shed aren’t wasted
The remembrance of a joy once tasted

Dare to believe that the brokenness cannot define you
Dare to believe that the fragments can only refine you
Dare to believe that the tapestry isn’t completed
Dare to believe in the weaving of threads now mistreated

On the sacred ground of your grief
We will gently tread
At the banquet of belief
Our hearts will find new bread

Just beyond the edge of broken
Lies redemptive ground
Just beyond the words unspoken
Hope waits to be found
The conviction of a life’s potential
The assurance of a grace essential
The belief that tears we shed aren’t wasted
The remembrance of a joy once tasted

Christian Ethics and the Conundrum of Gun Control

rosary beads and gun

As a follower of Jesus, I am often far less interested in the opinion that a person holds on an issue than I am in how the person arrived at that opinion and, even more important, how the person engages both with those who hold a similar viewpoint and those who approach the issue with different convictions.

I have long believed that arriving at a passionately-held opinion is the least-demanding portion of ethical discourse. Strong opinions, while they may involve a certain degree of deductive or inductive reasoning and sophisticated cognition, require no artistry, nuance, or relationship. They demand nothing more than an individual’s intellectual assent to an articulated position. Following the intellectual assent, the opinion itself often becomes as comfortable as rhythmic breathing, rarely contemplated, but regularly expressed.

Holding strong opinions is the easy part. Everyone can do it and normally does.

The real challenge of ethical discourse, however, involves the territory that surrounds the opinion. Has the opinion been reached in a manner that is intellectually holistic and experientially reinforced? Has the opinion been cultivated with a reasonable attentiveness to all of the available data and not simply the portions of data that reinforce our preexisting predilections? Has the opinion been liberated from the weight of rhetoric and tested with the scrutiny of an open and rigorous mind? And is the opinion held with the kind of flexible intellectual grip that permits engagement with differing viewpoints? These are the questions that lead a person well beyond the simple “speaking of one’s mind” and into the undulating terrain of ethical contemplation and moral decision-making.

If one is a Christ-follower, the task becomes even more complex. Christianity’s narrative is one that is rich with seemingly absurd instructions: Do not simply speak the truth (or, translated a bit differently, do not simply speak your mind), but “speak the truth IN LOVE” (Ephesians 4:15). Do not simply insist on a particular course of action, but conduct yourself in a spirit that is “not arrogant or rude…or irritable or resentful.  (1 Corinthians 13:5). Do not become idolatrous about particular opinions, but be perpetually aware of the fact that “our knowledge is imperfect and our prophecy is imperfect” (1 Corinthians 13:9).

In the face of a rather complex social issue in his day, the Apostle Paul addressed the question of what Christ-followers are to do about eating meat that had been offered to idols, since there existed an ethical and theological disagreement between those who felt free to eat what they wanted and those who felt obligated to adhere to strict dietary laws. Paul’s counsel in the matter bears witness to his conviction that, at least in certain ethical and spiritual matters, the particular opinion one holds is less important than the manner in which s/he holds it: “We are no worse off if we do not eat, and no better off if we do. But take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak…If food is the cause of [people’s] falling, I will never eat meat, so that I may not cause one of them to fall” (1 Corinthians 8:8-9, 13).

In this revelatory moment in Paul’s ministry, he expresses the rather countercultural idea that one’s individual viewpoint cannot be so monolithic and uncompromising that it refuses to be subordinated to the integrity and preservation of that diverse and heterogeneous community that Christians call church. In other words, to borrow Paul’s language from earlier in this same portion of Scripture, agapic love is the governor of individual opinions, since “knowledge puffs up but love builds up.” (1 Corinthians 8:1).

What does all of this have to do with the current debate on gun control? Much, I think. Followers of Jesus, if they are to be true to the narrative by which they are called to live, must be specifically Christian, not only in the opinions that they hold, but also in the manner in which they arrive at those opinions, steward those opinions, and communicate those opinions.  To borrow the Apostle Paul’s framework, Christ-followers are simply not permitted to elevate a particular conviction about eating meat (or, for that matter, owning guns) above their moral responsibility to preserve the kind of Christ-centered community that is durable enough to accommodate differing viewpoints without rancor, without malice, and without a sharp-edged insistence upon one’s own rightness.

The Christian narrative, of course, in no way removes from the Christ-follower the opportunity to develop and hold passionate viewpoints and convictions. Christians are not called to be devoid of individual perspective. What is powerfully unique about the Christ-follower’s individual perspective, though, is the way in which the Christ-follower is called to manage and articulate it. Specifically, Christ-followers are called to hold and offer their convictions in a manner that bears consistent witness to their stubborn refusal to value their opinions over their relationships with those who do not share them. I see this as a critical portion of the sanctification of individual perspectives.

In light of the urgency of this sanctification, I offer the following thoughts. These are my own personal opinions, held firmly but with a flexible grip:

1. Christ-followers would do well to make peace with the fact that intelligent people of deep and authentic faith reside on both sides of the issue of gun control. Several months ago, I shared a meal with two Christians that I greatly admire, one of whom is a pacifist who sees no value whatsoever in most gun control legislation (since, in his words, “the peace we are called to manifest will never be legislated”). The other Christian at the table was a soldier, hunter, and gun-owner who believes that new regulations related to gun and ammunition control are “desperately needed in this country, if for no other reason to establish the right boundaries for how the issue is approached.”

While I personally gravitated toward the viewpoint of the soldier, I found myself deeply encouraged by the absence of bitterness in the conversation. These were not rhetoricians insisting on the absoluteness of their own rightness. They were brothers in Christ who seemed genuinely interested in how the other person arrived at his conviction. I did not have the sense that either man had become idolatrous about his opinion; or that either man felt that the Kingdom of God (or the United States Constitution, for that matter) depended upon the promulgation of his viewpoint; or that their individual perspectives were more important to either of them than their shared friendship. Rather, I sensed that I was in the presence of two men of deep intellect and even deeper faith whose respectful disagreement about gun control found a comfortable home in the context of their mystical and durable oneness in Christ. On that afternoon, the salad bar at Eat’n Park became a Eucharistic meal where differing opinions were nothing but optional side dishes to the shared Bread of Heaven and Cup of Salvation.

2. Christ-followers would do well to remember that, in a specifically Christian conversation about moral behavior, the foundational question is never “What do I have the right to do?” but rather “What IS right to do?” It troubles me when Christian people limit their ethical conversations to debates about the nuances of their constitutional or civil “rights,” since, for Christ-followers, the primary concern is not the preservation of identified rights but the transformational and Spirit-enabled pursuit of righteousness.

This is not to suggest that the clear enumeration and protection of constitutional and civil rights is not an important conversation in which to participate. Such rights, after all, are an integral portion of the maintenance of a fair and just nation.  In a specifically Christian morality, however, the concept of unalienable rights (which is not a Biblical concept) is never the starting or ending point of any conversation.  Rather, Christocentric ethics are grounded in a different set of questions: What is the most right thing for me to do? What is the most helpful and edifying thing for me to do?  Am I being called to sacrifice something for a greater good? Am I being called to defend something because of a Biblical principle?  What decision will represent my very best effort to work toward a just and merciful outcome? How can I best bear witness to my primary identity—not my identity as an American citizen with inalienable rights, but my identity as a baptized follower of Jesus whose national citizenship, while important, is secondary to his/her Christological citizenship?

Such questions will not always lead two Christians to the same ethical viewpoint, especially on a controversial matter like gun control. My fear, however, is not potential disagreement. My fear is that, in the current climate, too many Christians are arriving at an opinion without an honest wresting with the right questions.

3. Christ-followers would do well to remember what history has all too frequently taught us—that vitriolic fundamentalism of any sort normally distorts the pursuit of moral truth and replaces the dynamic hunger for righteousness with a stifling and malicious desire to protect and promulgate a particular ideology. Concerning the particular issue at hand, fundamentalism is alive and well. It might come in the form of one of these viewpoints:

*“They will have to pry my gun out of my cold dead fingers!”

*“People who aren’t in favor of gun control are ALL addicted to the pathological violence of our culture.”

*“I don’t see how ANY CHRISTIAN could NOT be in favor of stricter gun laws, especially in the aftermath of what happened in Las Vegas.”

*“The ONLY WAY to ensure our freedom as a country is to preserve the right to arm ourselves with the same kind of weapons that our military has. It is our ONLY protection against the development of tyranny.”

These very real and current viewpoints may raise significant issues for the conversation, but the tone of the viewpoints resonates, not with a passionate yearning for a just and truthful discernment, but a fundamentalistic impulse to fixate on a conviction while dismissing or demonizing those who do not agree with it. The church behaves like the church only when it refuses to allow any ethical conversation to be stifled by the compartmentalizing rubrics of fundamentalism.

4. Christ-followers would do well to practice the spiritual discipline of acknowledging (to themselves and others) the fact that they might be wrong in their opinions, no matter how right they believe themselves to be. Again, by this I do not mean to suggest that Christians are to relinquish their strong views on important issues. I am convinced, however, that we practice specifically Christian ethics only when we operate with a keen awareness of the important differences between “conviction” and “certainty.” Convictions are discerned and lived. Certainty is established and protected. Convictions can live peacefully with opposing convictions. Certainty normally seeks to defend its territory. Convictions can be held firmly but gently, with a profound awareness of our incomplete knowledge. Certainty often demands a tighter grip and the illusion of omniscience.

Related to the issue of gun control—and all other issues—Christ-followers are at their best when they manifest the kind of genuine humility that heartfelt convictions permit but that rigid certainty resists.

5. Christ-followers would do well to commit themselves to making certain that their contemplation and discussion of gun control bear witness to the “new creatures” that they have become in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17) and the new birth that Christ makes possible (John 3:3). No matter whether one opposes or supports gun control reform, it is essential for the Christ-follower to resist the ethical schizophrenia of being Christologically reborn but behaviorally and practically heathen. If Christ has made one new, then even the manner in which one articulates one’s perspectives and participates in public debate must be under the transformation of sanctification.

Practically speaking, this will mean that Christ-followers will listen respectfully and attentively to opposing viewpoints, thereby avoiding the temptation to become nothing more than “a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.”

It will mean that Christ-followers on both sides of the issue will refuse to allow the issue itself to become a divisive litmus test for relationship, thereby ensuring a commitment to being “patient and kind…not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.”

It will mean that Christ-followers will be far more interested in standing on the solid ground of ever-expanding discernment than they are in jumping on the bandwagon of convenient and divisive rhetoric, thereby generating a spirit that “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

Most of all, it will mean that Christ-followers will live with a perpetual and holistic awareness of the fact that, irrespective of what decisions are made related to gun control reform, our life-giving hope and deepest deliverance are not to be found in the preservation, reformation, or interpretation of a constitutional amendment, but in Christ’s astoundingly gracious invitation to participate in an often countercultural and radically peaceable Kingdom in which “faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”

Finer Footwear


I remember being in the presence of real violence for the very first time. I was in kindergarten. The kickball game at recess had been interrupted because two of my classmates were arguing over a play at first base:

“I was safe!”

“No! You were out!”

The argument escalated until one of the boys balled up his fist and hit the other boy squarely in the face. Standing close by, I was horrified by the unmistakable sound of flesh smashing against flesh. The boy who had been hit fell to the ground. I stood there, transfixed by the intensity of the moment and nauseated by the sight of blood trickling out of the fallen boy’s mouth.

I won’t ever forget that moment. In my mind, I can still hear the punch. It was my brutal initiation into a violent world—a world of warfare and terrorism; a world of hateful words and bitter feuds; a world in which children learn to fight one another over something as insignificant as a kickball game.

The fact that we live in the midst of such violence makes the following words of Scripture all the more meaningful: “As shoes for your feet, put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the Gospel of Peace” (Ephesians 6:15). These words unsettle me whenever I read them (which I did just this morning). They unsettle me because of the way in which they bring to light the fact that, in my personal spiritual garb, I am often much more drawn to the combat boots of coercion and contempt than I am to the shoes of the Gospel of Peace.

When I reflect upon this particular portion of the spiritual armor of God, I am instantaneously reminded that the way of Christ invites me to become more passionate about reconciliation than I am about retaliation; more passionate about mercy than I am about manipulation; more passionate about patient listening than I am about winning the argument.

I may not have the wherewithal as an individual soul to bring peace to the Middle East. I may not possess the necessary influence to end all manifestations of warfare. But will the fact that I cannot create ALL peace prevent me from creating SOME peace? Will I dare to incarnate the Gospel of Peace in my little corner of the world? Will I allow myself to be so inwardly transformed by the Holy Spirit that I become a peacemaker in my home, in my family, in my neighborhood, in my network of relationships, in the rhythms of social media, and in the hallways of my church? What might such a peace-making life look like for me?

As I type these words, I am praying that I will begin to make a more substantive place in my spiritual wardrobe for the shoes that enable me to proclaim the Gospel of Peace wherever I walk. I am envisioning the kind of “wardrobe expansion” that produces a counter-cultural disciple whose words are edifying rather than insulting, whose demeanor is engaging rather than dismissive, and whose governing passion is for authentic relationship rather than acrimonious division? Then, and only then, will I be able to say with integrity that I am a proclaimer and practitioner of the Gospel of Peace.

A Vision for Discipleship


We talk about discipleship in the life of the church all the time.  But what is it?  What does it mean to live a life of discipleship to Jesus? What does such a life look like, and what does it entail?  Here are some of my personal reflections on the nature and content of the life of Christian discipleship.  I offer these reflections as a work in progress, in the hope that they might help all of us to live more deeply into the life to which Jesus calls us.

A Vision for Discipleship 
What is a life of discipleship to Jesus Christ?

 1. A Recognition that Following Jesus Is a Good and Necessary Thing

“Jesus said, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.’  Immediately they left their nets and followed him.”  (Matthew 4:19-20)

Discipleship begins with the recognition that following Jesus is a good and necessary thing.  This recognition can be inspired in various ways.  For some, it is inspired by a personal awareness of sin and an equally personal need for a savior.  For others, it is inspired by an intellectual conclusion based upon a theological conviction.  For still others, it is inspired by an unnamable hunger to find alignment with matters of eternal significance.  And yet, although the recognition comes in different ways for different people, it is always the result of God’s prevenient initiative, mysteriously and powerfully at work in human lives to draw people into the salvation that God desires for all the world’s people.

2. A Willingness to Turn Around

“Jesus said, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’”  (Mark 1:15)

In the journey of discipleship, the recognition of the goodness and necessity of Jesus is eventually accompanied by a willingness to take human sin seriously.  More specifically, a disciple recognizes that sin has produced a spiritual chasm between humankind and God that humankind, on its own, does not have the capacity to bridge.  Sin is collective and cosmic.  It is also deeply personal—a rebellion in which each human being participates.  Therefore, discipleship requires a personal turning around (a repentance) in which one begins to turn away from sin in order to turn toward the Christ who delivers us from sin.  Such repentance enables disciples to become receptive to the cleansing and transforming grace of God.  It is also the instrument through which one’s fondness for sin begins to decrease in order that one’s devotion to Jesus and his Way might increase.

3. A Relationship with Jesus as Savior

“God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

In healthy discipleship, Jesus becomes more than a historical figure and moral example to be studied and admired.  He becomes a Savior to be believed and embraced.  Although the church’s doctrine concerning Jesus and the salvation that he makes possible reflects a noteworthy diversity, at the heart of these doctrines is the biblical conviction that Jesus, through his life, death, and resurrection, is a Savior sent by God to a world that desperately needs salvation.  To embrace Jesus as Savior (and to be embraced by him) is to acknowledge the holy mystery that Jesus is the One who delivers us from sin, thereby enabling a reconciliation between a perfectly holy God and fallen human souls.  When one trusts in Jesus for salvation, one stands justified before God, not because of one’s own righteousness, but because of the righteousness of Jesus that he has graciously imputed to us.

4. A Transformed Life

“Jesus answered…‘No one can see the kingdom of God without being born anew.’”  (John 3:3)

The concept of spiritual rebirth has become greatly distorted and divisive over the years of Christian history, so much so that, in many circles, an artificial division is created between “born again Christians” and what might be labeled “normal” or “mainline” Christians.  This division is as unfortunate as it is misleading.  Rebirth, according to Scripture, is not a theological dividing point or litmus test.  Rather, it is an experience of being so inwardly transformed by the reality of Jesus Christ that one begins to think differently, act differently, prioritize differently, and live differently, all because the Way of Jesus has now become one’s personal Way.  For some, this rebirth is something dramatic and publicly obvious (such as an emotional experience at a church altar).  For others, it is a quieter (but no less radical) reorientation of one’s life around the ethics and priorities of Jesus.  And yet, no matter the particular experience of the rebirth, it is always the work of the Holy Spirit, bringing people into the new life that only Jesus Christ makes possible.

 5. A Relationship with Jesus as Lord

“Then Jesus said, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.’”  (Luke 9:23)

Although discipleship demands a relationship with Jesus as Savior (which is often realized and personalized through a single decision and a momentary prayer), it also demands the lifelong journey of allowing Jesus to become the Lord of every segment of one’s life.  This is the journey of allowing oneself to be remade daily into the likeness of Jesus, in such a way that every part of one’s life begins to bear witness to the reality of his Lordship. This experience of sanctification (being made holy) in Christ is the work of God’s grace and is nurtured through the practice of several important spiritual disciplines:

*The Discipline of Prayer—growing in one’s prayerful intimacy with God, so that prayer becomes a way of life

*The Discipline of Spending Time with Scripture—growing in one’s love for Scripture and one’s devotion to its revelation, so that studying Scripture and meditating upon its Truth becomes a personal priority

*The Discipline of Worship—growing in the communal and individual practice of offering to God heartfelt praise

*The Discipline of Alignment with the Church’s Ministry and Mission—growing in one’s relationship with the church, not to perpetuate an institution, but to deepen one’s discipleship and help others to do the same

*The Discipline of Gathering Regularly at the Lord’s Table—growing in the celebration of the Lord’s Supper and in an ever-deepening hunger for the bread of life and the cup of salvation

*The Discipline of Community—growing in one’s commitment to a covenantal and accountability-practicing community, since, according to Scripture, discipleship is to be personal but never privatistic or individualistic

*The Discipline of Stewardship—growing in the practice of honoring Jesus in the way one manages one’s financial resources, one’s time, and one’s talents

*The Discipline of Generosity—growing in a spirit of extravagant giving in such a way that one’s life begins to reflect the extravagant generosity of Jesus

*The Discipline of Outreach—growing in one’s participation in regular and tangible acts of ministry, mission, and evangelism, thereby putting hands, feet, and faces on the love of Jesus

*The Discipline of Working For Peace and Justice—growing both in one’s commitment to standing against all forms of evil and injustice and in one’s commitment to eradicating them in the church and world

*The Discipline of Love—growing in one’s devotion to loving God with heart, mind, and strength, and to loving one’s neighbor as one loves her/himself

While the different segments of discipleship described in this reflection have been enumerated in a numerically linear fashion, the life of discipleship is not always linear in its unfolding.  Sometimes one finds oneself devoted to the sanctifying discipline of ministry or prayer long before coming to know Jesus as Savior.  Likewise, the Holy Spirit will sometimes inspire a lifelong churchgoer to re-experience rebirth because of some newly discovered need for personal repentance and transformation.

Discipleship, in other words, is not a mathematical equation.  It is a relational journey with Jesus Christ at its center.  As is the case with any significant journey, discipleship is frequently unpredictable and unsettling.  It will occasionally demand backtracking and unforeseen detours.  And yet, if Christ remains at the center of the journey, one will have the blessed assurance that one is journeying in a redemptive direction and with the right Companion.

In John’s gospel, Jesus describes himself as the way, the truth, and the life.  Ultimately, Christian discipleship is the transformational journey of allowing Jesus to become one’s personal WAY, one’s personal TRUTH, and one’s personal LIFE.  Paradoxically, the journey is freely offered, yet it costs a life.  The good news, however, is that it is the most abundantly joyful and blessed journey that one can ever experience.

Loving Beyond the Words


I re-watched an interesting film recently entitled The Last Kiss. The film, released in 2006, creates a rather unsettling and multi-layered cinematic portrait of young men and women attempting to come to grips with issues of commitment, betrayal, parenthood, and covenant. Although I cannot describe the film as exceptional, it does create some memorable moments.

One of those moments revolves around the following words, spoken by an older and wiser patriarch to a younger man who has recently betrayed his girlfriend with another woman.  This younger man begins to talk about how much he loves his girlfriend. The patriarch interrupts him with an observation that is as significant as it is stark:

Stop talking about love. Every idiot in the world says he loves somebody. It means nothing. What you FEEL only matters to you.  It’s what you DO to the people you say you love. That’s what matters. It’s the only thing that counts.

It was a moment that compelled me to reflect upon how frequently I over-romanticize love, allowing it to become little more than a self-gratifying inner warmth and a euphoric means to emotional self-aggrandizement. Sometimes, I throw around the word “love” with an almost devil-may-care nonchalance. I say that I love my wife.  I say that I love my family. I say that I love Jesus. But I also say that I love homemade vanilla ice cream, and comic books, and vacations to far away places, and the food at my favorite restaurants. When it comes to love, in other words, my talk can become extremely cheap. I can say that I love just about anything or anyone and then pat myself on the back for my emotional tenderness.

Maybe the patriarch in The Last Kiss is right. Maybe “every idiot in the world says that he loves somebody,” or something

In the parable of the great judgment, Jesus tells us that, whenever we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit the prisoner, we have, in actuality, done those things to Jesus himself:  “Truly I tell you, just as you DID these things to one of the least of my brothers and sisters, you DID them to me” (Matthew 25:40).  In that moment of Scripture, Jesus offers a teaching that we dare not ignore—a teaching that brings him into alignment with the patriarch in The Last Kiss:  “Stop simply talking about love,” Jesus seems to be saying in Matthew 25:40.  “After all, every idiot in the world says that he loves somebody. The words, in that case, mean very little until they are validated by tangibility.”

By calling to mind real acts of ministry like feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, Jesus relocates love from the inner realm of the felt to the outer realm of the enacted.  “It’s what you DO to the people you say you love,” Jesus essentially says.  “That’s what matters. What really counts is whether or not you dared to see my face in the faces of the people around you and then enacted something real for the purpose of ministering to their deepest needs.”

Perhaps Jesus is telling us that the most authentic love is love incarnated; love in motion and action; love demonstrated and offered in the form of tangible acts of mercy and compassion.

In Zimbabwe, it is customary before a meal for two people to stand outside the door of the room where the meal is to be served. One of these persons holds a pitcher of warm, soapy water, the other person holds a basin. Their purpose is to wash the hands of all who are about to eat—a routine expression of servanthood and hospitality in a culture where such things are still treasured.

Once during my trip to Zimbabwe, as my hands were being washed before a meal, I expressed my gratitude to the two young boys who were doing the washing.  One of the boys responded in this fashion:  “It is we who are grateful, sir.  You are helping us to love you by allowing us to serve you.”

That boy’s words were a powerful reminder to me that the love of Jesus Christ finds its most profound expression, not in the words that we speak (essential as those words may be), but in the tangible ministry and servanthood that we offer.

My prayer for the church is that its people will be so inwardly transformed by the Holy Spirit that the words of the familiar song will finally become fully applicable: “They’ll know we are Christians by our love.” Not by our words, primarily. But by our indefatigable love.

It was a nice cinematic moment in “The Last Kiss.” It made me want to love more dynamically and faithfully.