LESSON 13–Shed Tears and Blood for a Broken World
For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him—John 3:17 (NIV).
This lesson was written in late December in your third year. I had sought to write just twelve lessons, following the Bible’s use of twelve as a symbol of completeness. But twelve is just not enough. This “lesson” is perhaps a summary. It is perhaps a culmination of what I have written previously, but it is by no means a conclusion. You and the imprint that you make on the world will write the conclusion.
Two major events drove me to write this chapter. First was a realization of the revolutionary Purpose of Jesus Christ. Second was seeing the movie Milk, starring Sean Penn as the first openly gay politician, Harvey Milk. At the core of both events is a broken world. (At the time of this rewrite, the world remains broken—perhaps even more so.)
In the past, I might have admitted to crying at only two movies: Brian’s Song and Sounder. But I cried at Milk. I am not entirely sure why, but I did—and I am not ashamed. I cried, in part, because it was a sad movie—Harvey Milk was assassinated after a long battle in the ongoing struggle for the civil rights of gay Americans. I cried, in part, because the struggle for civil rights all people is ongoing. [In the 14 years since the conception of this chapter, the brokenness of the world has only continued to escalate.] But I think I cried the most for my own sins. I cried because of guilt. I cried because of shame. I cried because the world is broken and hurting—and I have done shamelessly little to change it!! In fact, I have been crying a lot lately. Yes, for some reason your tough, cynical father has found himself tearing-up at the slightest of things!
My faith has changed over the years. I have long believed in the coming Kingdom of God—that Christ will one day return with the sound of trumpets to restore all of creation. I longed for the day of his return, believing the world to be hopeless. The brokenness of mankind and God’s creation were not something I could fix. But as I read more fully the words of Jesus and the teachings of the Apostle Paul in a context of the world under Imperial Roman rule, the text becomes increasingly relevant—thanks to many teachers.
I have realized that a core scripture in the Bible—for me—has become John 3:17. Yes, I know that it is supposed to be John 3:16, that is held as the core scripture. I have seen the rainbow-haired fanatic at the major sporting events. I have seen the signs of evangelicals. But I have also seen the pain on the faces of the marginalized in our society—the ones for whom christianity has had little concern.
No, “christianity” is not a typo. In fact, the autocorrect on my computer keeps changing it, and it remains with the red squiggle we recognize as a misspelling. No, I typed it in lower case for a reason. I have long struggled with a professing “Christian” world that is incongruent with the teaching of Jesus Christ. So, I have begun to address the “Christian” faith with three labels—which is, perhaps, a judgmental attitude on my part, but consider it a sincere desire to set a mark or standard for myself. First, there is the lower-case christian—the person who accepts that Christ lived, died, and was resurrected, but does very little beyond this. These people may go to church every Sunday—or Sabbath—but show no genuine fruit in their lives. Second, there is the upper-case Christian. These read John 3:16 and live a visible faith in Jesus as their “Lord and Savior.” Unfortunately, these Christians miss the heart of Jesus. They fail to see that his mission was not simply personal salvation for the few who believe. They may work to bring some level of comfort to their neighbor but are not in community beyond those who are of like mind. These are good people for the most part, but they are not willing to join the revolution of Jesus Christ. Finally, there is the Follower of Christ—the person I admonish you to become—who hears the cry of the oppressed; who associates with the marginalized of the world (after all, was Christ not attacked for his associations with tax collectors, prostitutes, and sinners of all kinds?); and who sacrifices his/her life for others. Remember that Christ summed the law the prophets with two simple commands: love God and love your neighbor.
So, John 3:17? Well, the realization of this often-overlooked verse was profoundly introduced to me in a sermon. The pastor read John 3:16 and mentioned that people rarely ask what lies on either side of this verse. When he read John 3:17, it was like the person behind me hit me in the back of the head with a two-by-four. It was clear as day. The mission of Christ was expressed in one simple verse. Christ had come to save the world—not just me and anyone to whom John 3:16 was read! But more important was the message that he did not come to condemn the world. It was a revelation to me! More importantly, it was my road to Damascus. And ever since I have wept at the slightest inclination of the world’s brokenness.
I have been reflecting on my life and those that I have hurt. I never thought of myself as mean-spirited. I never realized the pain I was causing. As children, we seem pushed or pulled to become exclusive. If I could ever go back to moments when I hurt someone with my words—or lack of words, as the case may be—I would. But I can’t.
In seventh or eighth grade, I picked on Matt—among certainly many other kids. One day as I was turned around in my desk making some objectionable comment (Matt, I beg forgiveness) he jabbed me in the hand with a pencil. The lead visibly remains in my skin. I look at it often and ask myself “why?” I can’t answer my question. It seems like a natural thing for kids to do—to pick on the “weaker” kids—but this should not be. And I don’t think it was really in my nature. It was a way of escaping my own brokenness and desire to fit in.
In fifth grade, I was sent to the principle for fighting. Scott was new to our elementary school, and several kids were picking on him. I came to his defense and, as the result, was sent to the Principal’s office. I often think of the message that was sent when the teacher who witnessed the incident turned me in to be punished. Yes, fighting is wrong and violence in schools—or anywhere—should not be tolerated, but to me it was a message not to stand in defense of others. I think to some extent I lost my desire to stand up for the oppressed that day.
Never fail to stand up for your neighbor. Never see yourself as better than another for when you do a part of you dies. Stand for the oppressed—without violence if you can. Christ after all stood up to an entire system by allowing himself to be brutally murdered on a cross. This is to truly love your neighbor!
I wish I could say that I have done this in my life. But I am a coward. Rather than stand up for others in their oppression, I have gone along with the crowd—often leading the crowd. I am ashamed.
We all want to be popular and accepted. There will be times in your life that you will find yourself pulled away from certain friends and classmates who no longer fit the “norm.” Please, resist this temptation. Rather embrace those who are different. It won’t be easy, I know, but the reward will be overwhelming—although you most certainly won’t recognize it for years to come.
You can’t heal all the world’s suffering. Therefore, we long for Christ’s return. But what if we who profess to follow Jesus took his message to heart and broke away from the pull of the Pharisees and offered comfort to the hurting? What if…?
I believe my greatest shame lies not in openly antagonizing weaker individuals, but rather in standing by and doing nothing—in turning my back on my neighbor in his/her time of need. Sadly, I missed out on some wonderful relationships. One haunting example is my friend Russell, who was gay and was a member of my church. At first, it was easy to befriend him because it was done in a bit of self-righteousness, but we soon became good friends. As time went by and his struggles grew, however, I turned my back on him. When he needed me most, I wasn’t there. I shamelessly abandoned him because his struggle was foreign to me, and I feared what others might think. “If only I could go back” should never haunt you. To see someone hurting and just walk on by is the greatest sin—because it breaks the two great commandments.
What I am asking you to do is hard. It is impossible in the flesh—that is why we need Christ. But I pray that you will never have to look back in remorse. You may be mocked and criticized. You may take physical blows and shed your own blood, but stand for the oppressed. Even when you are told that the actions of another stand in conflict with your faith, love your neighbor. There is no greater witness to Christ than love. Love can change the world!
I was a teenager when Harvey Milk was assassinated. Shamefully, I didn’t know who he was until the movie came out. More disgraceful is that, at the time, I probably scoffed at his movement. I have learned, however, to not judge one for whether I accept their lifestyle. Instead, I am learning to accept everyone as broken and in need of love and healing. Thankfully, you have the opportunity to live with few regrets.
Toleration seems to be an evil word in the christian community. Toleration, however, has nothing to do with what we perceive sin to be or not to be. Toleration, rather, means to endure the suffering of others.
I have often wondered who might show up at my funeral when I die. Would anyone? Have I made an impact on the world that would warrant people mourning my loss? And, if anyone does show up, would anyone be offended or disgusted to see him or her there? Would everyone look the same? Or would the room be overflowing with a motley and diverse crowd. Unfortunately, I don’t see the room to be overcrowded or diverse. Thankfully, there is time to change that—perhaps.
I am going to give away the final scene of Milk, but it is incredibly moving. Harvey’s former lover and a female friend arrive at City Hall in San Francisco for a memorial service for Harvey Milk. They are disappointed—as I was—to see only a small handful of people at the service. They walk out into the street to find another friend who was going to gather some people for the service. They were greeted with a candlelight vigil of countless thousands of people lighting up the streets for miles. It was incredible… and I never knew it happened!
Make your life a memorable one—not because you attained some level of passing celebrity—but because you touch the lives of the untouchable. Love the unloved. Bring comfort; bring healing; bring salvation to a broken world. Seek to be remembered by those who are forgotten.
Dare to be yourself—whoever that may be. Accept others. Enjoy others. Love others for who they are—broken misfits like the rest of us—the children of God.
Carpe momento!!
© W. Jeffrey Armstrong, 2022