Simply Christian, made simpler, a summary of Tom Wright’s great work called Simply Christian

Echoes of a Voice, chapter one, part two

Aren’t Christian’s part of the problem of injustice?  The Spanish Inquisition, The Crusades, abortion clinic bombers, earth wreckers who say, “The end of the world is near so why bother taking care of the earth?”

From very early on, there have always been people who have done terrible things in the name of Jesus.  There’s no hiding from this. But we can at least look back and see that they were mistaken about what Christianity actually is.  Nowhere does Christianity claim that its followers get things right all the time.  Jesus teaches us to pray for forgiveness—he knew we would need it.

But one of the biggest problems with the credibility of the Christian faith on a large scale is that people associate Christianity with “the West.” So when western governments declare war on a Muslim country, it is easy for many to say that Christians are making war on Muslims.  But, of course, most people who live in the West are not Christians, and most Western governments do not even attempt to put Jesus’ teachings into practice in their societies and are even proud of that.  But that doesn’t stop people from blaming Christianity for what “the West” chooses to do. So Christianity continues to get bad press.

But there are undeniably in our history Christians who understood following Christ to mean working hard to bring about God’s good justice here on earth –“your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven,” Jesus taught his followers to pray.

William Wilberforce in Britain and John Woolman in America led groups of devout Christians who made it their life’s business, and it took a very long time, to stop the slave trade in Europe. Wilberforce was grasped by a loyalty to Jesus and a passion for God’s justice on behalf of the slaves.

Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Christian vision drove him to peaceful, effective protest against the racial prejudice that was haunting the United States.  His passion for justice for his fellow African Americans sprang out of his loyalty to Jesus Christ and cost him his life.

Desmond Tutu and other Christian leaders combined their passion for justice and loyalty to Jesus and dedicated their lives to a long campaign of risky speeches against the many evils of apartheid in South Africa. Tutu and his Christian cohorts brought about radical change with remarkably little bloodshed.  Tutu was then appointed to an unheard of political commission, namely the South African Commission for Truth and Reconciliation, where he led his country to grieve and heal.

These men’s tireless campaigning for justice grew directly out of their loyalty to Jesus and the echoes of his voice, the voice that calls all Christians to live like they lived.

Simply Christian made simpler

I hope Tom Wright won’t mind my paraphrasing his beautiful work, Simply Christian. His writing is inspirational, and yet I find many of my Christian friends don’t read him. I attempt here in my next few posts to summarize and make concise this thoughtful work that is the Mere Christianity of our day. And I hope these summaries will lead you to read his works in full.

Introduction:  Simply Christian is divided into three questions.   Why do we long for things like justice? What does Christianity have to do with these longings?  And how are we agents of God?

Echoes of a Voice (chapter 1)

There’s a voice inside us that calls for justice.  We hear it on the playground when children shout, “That’s not fair!” Our hearts sink when the innocent person gets locked up and the guilty person goes free.  We shiver at the injustice of earthquakes and plagues that take more lives than wars. There is a sense of out-of-jointness about injustice that we can’t seem to get over, and it permeates our own individual lives because, even though we have high moral standards, we still can’t seem to live up to them–I know what I ought to do, but at least some of the time, I don’t do it. And if I’m honest, I sometimes condemn others for things that I do myself.

We can say this echo of a voice for justice is only a silly dream and that we need to put aside our fantasies of fighting for justice and live in the real world.  But then we are condemned to cynicism and despair.

We can also say that this echo of a voice for justice belongs to another world, that someone is calling us to a higher standard, to peace, and this is how Islam, Judaism and Christianity explain the voice. The voice from somewhere else whispers, “Step up.  There’s a better way to live. It’s not just a dream.”

Christianity claims this voice we hear came to live with us two thousand years ago: Jesus of Nazareth.  He came to show us what is meant by the voice we hear.  He gave people hope that things were finally going to be put right.

The early Christians report Jesus as being someone who went to lots of parties and celebrations. They report him as an exaggerator, saying things like “stop trying to get a speck out of your brother’s eye when you have a plank in your own.” He changed people’s names, sometimes to amusing things like calling Peter, Rocky, and James and John, the Thunder Boys.

But the other side of Jesus was that he embodied our sorrow. He met sick, sad, despairing, uncertain people.  He shared their pain and healed them.  He wept, he grieved and was himself in agony.  He sorrowed with the world he had made.  He took on the tears of the world and made them his own in order to carry out God’s rescue operation –to restore things, to put them “to rights.”

And so, those of us who acknowledge the echos of a voice crying for justice as Jesus calling to us feel deeply compelled to be part of His plan to restore things, to make things right.

Coming . . . Echoes of a Voice (part 2)  But aren’t Christians part of the problem?

My family and I live in a small town just 3 miles north of another small town, and there are two one-lane bridges that we frequently use. It’s easy to get impatient—you’re running late and the vehicle you are waiting for is a bus or a large farming truck. Or the ducks, who reside on the stream the one-lane bridge covers, waddle slowly across with a brood of ducklings following behind, sometimes as many as 9.

Then there’s the inevitable rule-bender. Yes, there’s an unwritten rule when it comes to one-lane bridges, a basic principle instilled in us from very young, that is, take turns. But the rule-bender doesn’t heed and barrels through on the tail of the car in front of him because his schedule is ever so much more important that yours. When he passes you, he does not wave or look you in the eye even though he comes within feet of your very face.

But the rule-bender is not the norm. It amazes me that in our hurry-up-and-get-there world, people typically do make eye contact as they pass you waiting for your turn. Some do the nod-wave. Some put up an index finger in acknowledgement, and some do the full-hand wave and maybe even add a smile. These small town courtesies are reasons for my sadness when I heard the county was deciding to repair one of the one-lane bridges we frequent. True, it’s getting old and when you go over it at times you wonder if it’s going to hold. True, it’s inconvenient. True, it slows you down.

But isn’t it rare that we are made to slow down? Isn’t it rare that we make friendly eye contact with strangers? And isn’t it nice and decent that through our eye contact, our nods, our waves, our smiles, we say, “Hey, thanks whoever-you-are, for waiting for me?”

I, for one, am sad that the bridge will now be wider and faster and more efficient. I will miss the nods and waves, but only for a time. Soon the tiny one-lane bridge will be a distant memory. I’ll cross over the trickling stream—I’m sure going faster than I should—without seeing the ducks or the ducklings or even remembering that I used to have to wait to cross. I won’t even remember my annoyance at the rule-bender who wouldn’t take his turn.

My husband and I have 4 kids.  The oldest is 17.  For years, until he reached high school, I drove him to a small private school 10 minutes away.  The time in the car was sweet.  I had him captive for just a few minutes to anticipate a day or to talk about the day just passed.  But it was, I will admit, a bit of a relief to let him ride the public school bus when he started high school—he, not I, was now responsible to get to school and back.

He is now a senior and complains that no one rides the bus when they become juniors and seniors—“mom, kids drive their own cars to school,” he claims.  Of course, I don’t fall for this complaint at first.  “Oh, so you are the only senior who rides the bus—poor you,” I fight back.

As it turns out though, I think my son is telling the truth.  He is one of the only seniors, if not the only one, who rides his bus home from school.  Many many kids drive or have their parents pick them up.  Perhaps there are good reasons for this –maybe bullying or time constraints a bus puts upon a student?  But I suspect there are other reasons, reasons I don’t buy.

Could it be that students want to do their own thing? They don’t want to wait for a bus. They don’t want the inconvenience of getting home ½ hour later than they would if they drove a car. They don’t want to talk to “those people” on a bus?  They crave comfort, and riding a bus is not always comfortable.

My husband and I have said “no” to giving my 17-year-old a car to drive to school just for his own convenience.  We told him and his younger brother that riding the bus is a ministry—they are to be leaders of good on the bus.  They are to look for people to help.  They have a responsibility to talk with people who no one wants to talk to.  They are to help their bus driver when he has a hard time.

If riding the bus makes them feel low or unpopular, then that’s a good feeling for them to experience. Welcome to an imperfect struggling world where you are not the star.

Recently my boys’ bus driver sent us a thank you note.  He thanked my boys for a tennis racket they gave him to help his puppy learn to fetch tennis balls in his pasture.  He also said some very kind things about my boys, like “their positive presence, smiles, and politeness . . . brighten my day whenever they are on my bus.”  He said it was a “pleasure and privilege” to know two fine young men like them.

I hope this doesn’t come off like I’m bragging about my boys because I’m not meaning to brag.  I write this essay almost as a wish.  I wish other parents would say “no” to their 16-year-olds having cars for convenience sake.  I wish teenagers would talk to each other, ask each other about their days, and find out who their neighbors are.  I wish they would care about their bus driver.  I wish they would ask him about his dog.