We Are Family

Today at bible study, we were discussing Jesus' prayer for his disciples in John 17, specifically the line, "Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name, the name you gave me, so that they may be one as we are one." (John 17:11)


What does it mean for us to be one? We talked about the Body of Christ and how Paul called the believers many members of the same body and brothers and sisters in Christ. "Do we have to agree to be one?" asked one person. "How do we know whether someone is part of the Church? How do we know if we're one?"


Christian unity is an important topic for me. I feel that this is the number one way that we can show the rest of the world that we are different in a good way. When we are one, we love each other, we support each other, we look after each others' needs, we respect each others' opinions. I believe that what Jesus was praying for is that we really would be family in the most positive sense of the word. Jesus called himself the Son and prayed to a God he called Father, claiming that he was in the Father and the Father was in him. In the same way, Jesus wants us to be united to each other through him. He wants us to truly be brothers and sisters in Christ.


So here are a few of my thoughts about how the imagery of family can help us understand the concept of oneness through Christ:

• You don't get to pick your family. If I become estranged from a family member, I cannot change our biological heritage. That person is my relative whether I acknowledge him or her or not. Likewise, God is the one who is putting together this Christian family, and the fact is that we Christians are brothers and sisters whether we want to be or not. I can no more declare who is and isn't a real brother or sister in Christ any more than I can say my biological sister isn't my sister. It's all up to God. I don't get to choose.
• Family members don't always agree. I currently worship at a Lutheran church, so during the course of this Bible study conversation, one of the group members was talking about how Lutherans traditionally group themselves together on the basis of common ideology and theology. Lutherans split from Catholics during the Reformation because they didn't agree on several key points, and the Lutherans have continued to split from each other down through the years as more differences in opinion cropped up. It may be true that I could be uncomfortable having people whose views differ wildly from mine in the center circle of my spiritual circle, but I would be a fool to write off every family member with whom I have a significant disagreement. Others may take different approaches to serving Jesus, but as long as Jesus is our master, we are united in a very real way, whether we like it or not.
• You ought to be able to rely on your family. Families are meant to be nurturing, supportive structures that help us grow to be the best and most successful versions of ourselves throughout our lives. Our family members are often the ones who help us when the going gets rough and celebrate with us when times are good. Jesus wants us to work towards having that same personal and supportive relationship with our brothers and sisters in Christ. That is the future that we are working towards—a heavenly family that lives in harmony, centered in Christ.
• We are not the head of this family. God is. God calls the shots, and God decides what the family's goals are and who is doing a good job. If anybody gets kicked out of the family, it will be up to God to do the expelling, and if anyone is welcomed into the family, it will be because God invited that person to join. We may have hierarchies on Earth, but in God's family we are all equals, all brothers and sisters in Christ. We are all called to do different tasks, and some of us are called to lead, but none of us has God-given authority to force other family members to do what we want. We should instead appeal to each other with love and humility, recognizing that God has created us as equals.
• Harming or forcibly separating your family members should never be done lightly. It is true that sometimes when one family member gets violently out of hand, that person needs to be dealt with for the good and safety of the rest of the family. However, in a healthy family dynamic, no one would ever consider a family member to be disposable or replaceable. We do not engage in personal attacks on cherished loved ones lightly. Instead we try to have reasonable conversations. We talk about our feelings. We debate the issues. We try to find solutions to conflicts. We compromise and figure out whether we can agree to disagree. We apologize when we hurt one another. We put love before pride or anger. Each one of our brothers and sisters is special and unique, and we should think long and hard before trying to remove someone from the family dynamic. Sometimes when things go terribly wrong, estrangements can be necessary, but they should never be the result of a rash decision or a minor disagreement. We should be sad to have rifts with our brothers and sisters in Christ instead of aggressively partitioning ourselves off as we so often do. And we should remember that even if we become estranged from some of our fellow Christians, we cannot unilaterally declare that they are no longer members of the family.

I don't think of Christianity as an institution or a collection of church buildings or synod/diocese assemblies. It's not a conglomeration of bishops or a network of people who worship together on Sundays and try to ignore each other the rest of the week. We're a family. And while it's true that we're closer to some family members than to others, we ought to value everyone in the family. The center of this family is love, and we should remember that what unites us is the fact that we believe in Jesus, who commanded all of us to love God and one another.

Ice Cream

My college roommate Elizabeth was a great person for me to live with. I tend to be a rather emotional individual, but Elizabeth was generally a very calm person. She didn't seem terribly perturbed by my occasional tears or my rants about the crazy things that were happening in my life. She was also a very thoughtful person who always tried hard to do and be her best. I was inspired by what a strong, confident person she seemed to be. I was frequently at war with myself, but Elizabeth seemed to be far more at peace with herself. I still wish I knew what her secret is.

Still, even the most steady people come up against roadblocks sometimes. There were a few occasions when Elizabeth couldn't figure out what to do. She would feel stuck or discouraged (rather like I felt most of the time). And when those times came, I would take her out for ice cream. "Ice cream solves everything," I would say, and we'd head off campus (a rather rare occurrence at our small college) and find some ice cream. Afterward, Elizabeth inevitably felt better, even if we hadn't managed to find a solution to her problem. After ice cream, the problems seemed more manageable, somehow. It worked every time.

So does ice cream really solve everything? Not for me, anyway—believe me, I've tried. But it wasn't the ice cream that was the point, really. It was the fact that I wanted to take her out and buy it for her. It was the act of friendship, the chance to stop worrying and feel happy for a little while, that made the difference for Elizabeth. Since she and I had a history of happy outings involving ice cream dating back to our freshman year, that was the best choice for me to make her feel happy. With a different friend it might have been something else, but with Elizabeth the magic cure was ice cream. (That, or the "possessed leg trick," a silly little spectacle that would probably still make her laugh every time if I could still get myself into a goofy enough mood to do it properly.)

I never had the power to solve Elizabeth's problems or to take away the fear or pain they might have caused her. Today I am still surrounded by people I care about whose lost loved ones I can't bring back, whose illnesses I can't cure, whose marriages I can't save, whose pain I can't take away. But taking away their pain isn't my job. As their friend, I'm supposed to give them joy and happiness to mix in with the pain so that its bite no longer feels so strong. I'm not supposed to solve their problems for them; I'm supposed to take them out for ice cream. Every bit of love I give makes a difference, even if the problems are still as large as ever. My friendship and support gives the people I love the strength to face their challenges, the will to keep going in spite of the pain.

I know that I am not the only person who feels helpless sometimes when I look into the tear-streaked face of someone I love, or I read the heart-wrenching words of someone who has lost something that she can never get back. All I can do is try to love and support that person in whatever way I can. I may never be able to make what happened to them OK, but I can help THEM feel OK about their lives in general, I can help them feel strong and happy enough to keep going in spite of it. I can let them know how special they are, how much their beautiful hearts transcend whatever dark thing has happened to them. I can take them out for ice cream. I can meet them for coffee and chocolate cake. I can hang out with them at their homes or write them a heartfelt letter or make them a present. I can take them to a movie or babysit their kids or bake them cookies. I can smile and tell them that I love them and that I care. I can be an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, a friend to laugh with.

It's easy to feel powerless when we think about the things that we can't do or change. But the truth is that we all have an amazing amount of power to improve the lives of the people we care about just by loving them. Something as seemingly insignificant as going out for ice cream can make all the difference to a friend in need.

How Do I Know For Sure?

Most of us are troubled at one point or another by the lack of proof behind our faith. Most of us haven't seen a big flashy miracle to prove to us that God is real. We haven't seen a vision of the risen Christ to convince us that he is risen and is offering us salvation. We have to trust our hearts, take it on faith. So the skeptics are asking, "How do we know God loves us? How do we know there's life after death?" The answer is that we don't. We just trust based on what evidence we do have.

It's not like religion is the only thing that demands faith without proof from us. We make huge choices with limited information throughout our lives. How do we know which career to pursue? Where to live? Who to befriend? What priorities to set for our lives? We can't know for sure how those things will turn out, whether we'll be happy, whether we've made the right decision. But we take the information we have and we trust our hearts and we make a decision. What else can we do?

When I married my husband, I was 21 years old. He was my first boyfriend. I had been with him for less than two years, although we had been friends for about a year and a half before that. I had just finished college, and I didn't know what it was to live on my own as an adult, much less to do it with someone else. I didn't know how Michael would manage priorities or what kind of father or husband he would be. We hadn't lived together yet, and I didn't know how his habits and mine would integrate. I felt in my heart that he was the person I was supposed to marry, but I had no proof. Was he the right one? Would we be happy? How could I know for sure? I didn't. I was shaking from nerves when I walked down that aisle.

I'm glad I trusted my heart and made the choice to marry Michael. We're approaching our sixth anniversary, and while I've had my doubts from time to time, I truly believe that our marriage was the right choice and that we'll make it long-term. I trust what I see. I trust my heart.

Why do I believe in God? Because I know deep down inside that the Bible is right. I've read it and I've seen signs of Scriptural truths in my own life. I don't have proof—but I don't need proof. I have faith. Life has taught me that some things—often the most important things—have to be taken on faith. We'll never have enough objective proof to make a perfectly reasoned decision, but we have to keep on living anyway. That's what faith is all about. We don't know for sure, but we trust anyway. And it feels really wonderful when that trust is rewarded.

With God All Things Are Possible

One of my favorite books is Pawn of Prophecy, the first installment in the five-book Belgariad series by David Eddings. It's a fantasy tale set in a fictional world in which a boy, Garion, is growing up in a country full of solid, practical, hardworking values, not knowing that there is magic all around him that will eventually become an integral part of his life. His idea of reality is challenged for the first time by an old storyteller who is more than he seems:

   "It's only a story," Garion said stubbornly, suddenly feeling very hardheaded and practical like any good Sendar. "It can't really be true. Why, Belgarath the Sorcerer would be—would be I don't know how old—and people don't live that long."
   "Seven thousand years," the old man said.
    "What?"
   "Belgarath the Sorcerer is seven thousand years old—perhaps a bit older."
   "That's impossible," Garion said.
   "Is it? How old are you?"
   "Nine—next Erastide."
   "And in nine years you've learned everything that's both possible and impossible? You're a remarkable boy, Garion."
Garion flushed. "Well," he said, somehow not quite so sure of himself, "the oldest man I ever heard of is old Weldrik over on Mildrin's farm. Durnik says he's over ninety, and that he's the oldest man in the district."
   "And it's a very big district, of course," the old man said solemnly.
   "How old are you?" Garion asked, not wanting to give up.
   "Old enough, boy," the old man said.
   "It's still only a story," Garion insisted.
   "Many good and solid men would say so," the old man told him, looking up at the stars, "—good men who'll live out their lives believing only in what they can see and touch. But there's a world beyond what we can see and touch, and that world lives by its own laws. What may be impossible in this very ordinary world is very possible there, and sometimes the boundaries between the two worlds disappear, and then who can say what's possible and impossible?"
   "I think I'd rather live in the ordinary world," Garion said. "The other one sounds too complicated."

Sometimes we are all a bit like Garion, stubbornly wanting to believe only in what we can see and touch because it's less complicated. But as Christians, we also claim to believe in another world—a world in which God acts directly through signs and miracles, in which the sick are healed and the dead are raised and each of us has a part of God—the Holy Spirit—living inside us. Still, we're terrified to say that anything can happen. We need rules, restrictions, laws of nature to make us feel safe. We need to be able to say what is and isn't possible. But unfortunately for us, God doesn't work that way because He has no limits.

How often have we heard Christians around us making definitive statements about what is or isn't possible in our faith? Some people say that there aren't prophets anymore, that God doesn't speak directly to people like He did to Moses at the burning bush. Some people believe that the stories in the Bible are fables—that Jesus didn't really walk on water or feed 5,000 people. Others argue that even if miracles happened in the Bible, the same sorts of things don't happen anymore. Some think that God is nothing more than some sort of universal cosmic force and that angels and demons and even Satan don't exist at all. That stuff sounds like it came straight out of a fantasy book like the one I quoted above. It can't be real, can it?

Jesus tells his disciples (Matthew 19:23–26) that we as humans cannot achieve the things he talks about. We can't save ourselves from death. We can't make the world perfect or work miracles with our own power. But God makes anything possible. God made the laws of gravity and can defy them if He chooses. God made things both visible and invisible—who are we to say there are no angels or demons when not so long ago we didn't even know about bacteria? Who are we to say that miracles can't happen while also professing that Christ died for us? The rules don't matter to God as much as they matter to us. He made them and He can break them if He chooses to. He is wiser and more powerful than we could ever comprehend. The limitations that we try to place on God and His creation for our own peace of mind mean nothing to Him. With God, all things are possible.

If we want to truly be a part of God's magnificent plan, then we need to be open to all the possibilities—even the ones we never could have imagined were possible. What if on the day I began this blog I had decided instead that I couldn't possibly be wise enough at age 25 to say anything useful? What if Mother Theresa had decided that one woman couldn't make a difference? What if the disciples had decided that their experiences with the risen Christ must have been delusions brought on by excessive grief or mental illness? What then? There is more in this universe than we can see or touch. There's more even than we can imagine. When God calls us, He gives us the power to do things that we shouldn't be able to do on our own. Throughout our lives we may find ourselves succeeding when the odds were against us, surviving when doctors said we ought to have died, experiencing things so strange and wonderful that we may even question our own sanity. But if we are truly filled with the Spirit, we will ultimately accept the things that come from God, even if we didn't believe they were possible before they came into our lives.

Radical Love

Christianity is about love. People who say that it's about judgment, righteousness, morality, belief, or even grace have all named aspects of the religion but not its heart. Christianity has judgment tempered by love, righteousness and morality fueled by love, belief that leads to love, and grace that comes from love. Without love, none of the rest of it makes sense. Jesus himself told us that the whole thing boils down to two commandments: 1. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind; and 2. Love your neighbor as yourself. The wonderful thing about these commandments is that they support each other. The more we love God, the more we want to love people because God loves them. The more we devote ourselves to loving each other, the more we understand and appreciate the God who loves us.

There is nothing more important in a Christian life than love. Nothing should take precedence over it. But if we look around us, we see all kinds of things coming between us and love. Cultural values like privacy, independence, self-sufficiency, pride (or self-respect as we call it), and even some standards of propriety become walls between us and our neighbors that limit how we interact with them. We hold people at arm's length because we are afraid of so many things. We don't want others to see our innermost thoughts and feelings because they might judge us. We don't want to ask for help or be asked to give more than we think we have to give. We're afraid of wasting time or energy. We're afraid of getting hurt or letting someone else down. We're afraid that getting close to someone will upset our social structure or community. We're afraid of being seen as presumptuous or nosy. We don't want to interfere or do something that could be perceived as inappropriate. We don't want to risk devoting ourselves to people who might not reciprocate. And I'm not saying that those fears aren't valid or important—but I am saying that they are less important than the absolute necessity of love.

Loving, intimate, and personal relationships with other people teach us about healthy spirituality and being in relationship with God. We learn to trust and to accept and to work together. We learn to give and to take, to admit when we need help and to ask for it. We stop being so afraid when we know we have a network of close friends to support us. We become more generous. We're more willing to take risks and to grow. That's what Christian living is about. Christian love is not the kind of love that pats you on the head and tells you you're perfect just the way you are. It's the kind of love that challenges you to keep striving towards the best possible version of yourself both for your sake and the sake of the people whose lives you touch; it's the kind of love that says "It's going to be hard and it might hurt, but you'll be better for it, and I'll be there to hold your hand and support you every single step of the way." It's the kind of love that doesn't let us sit in our pews thinking about how lucky we are to be saved—instead it sends us out into the world to discover that the treasure we've been given is even greater than we had imagined.

When Jesus came into this world, he was considered by his society to be a radical. Although his message was based on Scriptural themes people were already familiar with, he was taking them to a whole new level. Today's American Christians are used to being mainstream, and it's time for us to remember what it means to be radicals. There's a hymn I love whose refrain proclaims "they'll know we are Christians by our love." Will they? If we want to stand out from all the rest of the mainstream "decent" people, we need to love more passionately, more radically than basic morality demands. We can't just stop at the boundaries of social convention—we need to be willing to break the rules if they get in our way. Right now the only Christian radicals people are talking about are the ones who are screaming about how people are going to Hell because God hates them for their sins. That's not what our religion is really about: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." (John 3:16) That's the real point. That's what we need to be radical about. God loves us, and He wants us to love each other.

What does this mean? It means that we should be actively working to have more close friends and to be more open and honest with them. It means that we should be finding ways to go out of our way to be kind and helpful to other people. It means that we should be actively supporting our fellow Christians in their faith. It means we should be trying to get to know the people around us on a more personal level and taking more opportunities to tell them how special and beloved they are. It means that we should take the same loyalty we feel to our blood relatives and apply it to every person who reaches out to us. It means we should be thinking more actively and consciously about what's most important in our lives and going beyond what feels comfortable. We should be asking people to help us and offering to help others, including with very personal things. We should volunteer to comfort those who are mourning, celebrate with those who are happy, and support those who are working hard for God. We should be working together with one another to ensure that no one in our community feels alone or unsupported. Be a friend. Be a neighbor. Be a brother or sister in Christ.

If this is starting to sound like a lecture, it's only because I'm excited. The truth is that what I've written here is a message of hope. I am here to tell you that more is possible than we ever imagined. Relationships that we don't yet dare to have could one day be more rewarding than we could ever have predicted. Connections and growth that our cynical minds deem improbable are possible with the help of God. We have not even dreamed the wonders that God has in store for us, the marvelous experiences He is offering for the nourishment of our souls. God wants us to love each other because He knows we will benefit from it. He knows that love will make us happier and wiser and stronger. He will bless our love and make it fruitful in all the corners of our life. We needn't limit ourselves for the sake of fear or social conventions. When we break the rules for the sake of love, for the sake of God, God will support us and carry us far beyond the derision of the world. Don't settle for "good enough". Don't give up. Don't be afraid. There's more. I promise.