First, some anthropology, because, well, everyone’s an anthropologist, i.e., someone who studies or otherwise makes observations of οἱ ἄνθρωποι – humanity. It’s impossible to swim around in this sea of sentient bipedality without forming up a few thoughts about the nature of us.

As a kid, I was enraptured with people, convinced that we could do no wrong, with rare exception limited almost entirely to my little brother. In my young adult+ years it was tempting to see others as a stepping stone for personal gain, then into this twilight zone 50’s chapter where my anthropology is shifting again, back towards that of my enraptured youth. Regardless, like all of us, my soul is watching, unconsciously making observations about human beings that ultimately affect the way I understand everything else.

The Bible has some things to say about anthropology as well, but the way it pitches us is so rudimentary and archaic that it comes off as a little crazy: how it describes what we are doesn’t jive well with our contemporary, advanced, oh-so-lofty understanding of us.

Things get much more strange, if that’s possible, in the way that it talks about where we are, but a full understanding of this is fundamental to a deeper grasp of what Jesus believed we’re supposed to be up to.

To the Biblical authors, and some Christian thinkers over the millenia, humanity is one, interdependent, connected organism, like C.S. Lewis’ “complicated tree,” if you will; a view that gives much more weight to the Bible’s “one another” passages, elevating things like intimacy, justice, mercy, forgiveness, etc. above just about everything else. Jesus’ “Golden Rule” is also driven home – we’re supposed to treat others as we would ourselves because they are, in nearly every way imaginable, us.

From here, scripture takes a dive into the deep end, likening us the organism to an infant in utero.

Hang with me.

In his letter to the Roman Christians, St. Paul spoke of creation itself as if gathered around a pregnant loved one, groaning like a child at midnight on Christmas eve in expectation of the birth of humanity. Likewise, in his letter to the Gentile Christians in Ephesus, he talked about the “body’s” bones, ligaments, etc., in process of joining themselves together, as they do in the earliest parts of our formation.

“…in every respect we will grow into Him who is the head, that is, Christ. From him the whole body is being joined and knitted together, joint by joint, according to the measure of the expendended energy of each individual part, the growth of the body will result in the building up of itself in love .” ~ Ephesians 4:15-16

(It’s a bit hard to translate, so for you Greek nerds: αὐξήσωμεν εἰς αὐτὸν τὰ πάντα ὅς ἐστιν ἡ κεφαλή, Χριστός, ἐξ οὗ πᾶν τὸ σῶμα, συναρμολογούμενον καὶ συμβιβαζόμενον διὰ πάσης ἁφῆς τῆς ἐπιχορηγίας, κατ’ ἐνέργειαν ἐν μέτρῳ ἑνὸς ἑκάστου μέρους, τὴν αὔξησιν τοῦ σώματος ποιεῖται εἰς οἰκοδομὴν ἑαυτοῦ ἐν ἀγάπῃ).

In all of these, if you’ll allow some Biblical authority, and its attendant craziness, humanity is not yet formed, engulfed in a scene that approximates an occupied womb, awaiting a transition that’s not unlike the birth of a child.

This does violence to the drastically different view of humanity that us Western believers embrace, seeing ourselves as an independent, smart, capable, free-range, fully formed sort of proposition. If there’s an afterlife, it’ll be amazing, fun, holy, etc., but we the organism(s) won’t be too different beyond the idea that maybe we won’t sin so much. Barring the behavior issue, and maybe a few character tweaks, we’ve done all the changing we’re going to do. The idea that we’ll be spat out into a new scenario, under an entirely new contract with God, ourselves, others, and reality – like a shell-shocked newborn – is completely foreign, and somewhat insulting.

To us, scripture is a garment spun entirely for warriors, armed and commissioned to storm the cultural fields and wage war on God’s behalf – not as a helpless preborn floating about in the love of God, but as a spiritual Goliath, sent to steamroll just about anything we deem unholy. That’s one of the reasons we’ve become so politically angry – we can’t reconcile the way we view ourselves with the catastophic losses we’ve suffered. If we’re supposed to be the winners, why do we lose so much? Then comes the blaming and finger pointing, culminating in the election of the most vile human being our 20-year-ago selves could’ve ever imagined.

Strapped tightly to this socio-cultural bomb is the idea that winning is everything.

But we’ve been invited into a different narrative, onto a different stage; one that’s attended by just as much power and glory to be sure, but not our own, and one that drives us to much less anger, division, fear, victimhood, and general nonsense.

If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to live for a moment in this peculiar brand of anthropology, and mine some of its implications for our day-to-day life, as well as a deeper understanding of our calling as “children,” “servants,” and quite possibly, in the future, something more:

“I have said, ‘You are gods; you are all sons of the Most High.’ ~ Psalm 82:6

First, if the dumb, relatively inanimate created realm is all a-wriggle about this coming “birth,” how much more is God? And if He’s so excited about this singular day, how much more is He concerned with all the days leading up to it? How invested is He in this “baby’s” health, development, and general welfare?

Is it safe to conclude that this is His #1 priority – that all of His commandments about peace, generosity, forgiveness, intimacy, mercy, selflessness, humility, etc. are born from His desire to see this child come to term?

Second, and equally important, shouldn’t we be about the same thing? Should the care of one another be at the top of our to-do list?

Jesus seemed to think so, with His “do unto others” and “whatsoever you do to the least of these” types of thoughts. First and foremost in His economy is the proper care and feeding of us.

“Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: ‘Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?’ Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is just as great as the first: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Everything in the scriptures hangs on these two commandments.'” ~ Matthew 22:34-40

On the other hand, Western Christianity’s tendency to top-shelf secondary things like morality, Bible knowledge, “right” politics, and church attendance wouldn’t find much room. I agree that these are important, but calling them “the greatest” is not unlike a pregnant mother who’s altogether forgotten that she’s pregnant.

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices–mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law — justice, mercy, and trust. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former.” ~ Matthew 23:23

If we agree on the “what” and “where” of humanity, it naturally follows that God is overthrown, just as we would be if the baby was ours, which it is, while also being us, oddly enough, giving all possible weight to the idea that we should grind whatever grist the mill requires for it’s wellbeing.

The Endgame of Us

While the overall design at this stage seems to be that humanity would float about in the love of God, we frequently find ourselves surrounded by something else. Odd as it sounds, the seeds of hatred, envy, fear, and violence have somehow been sown into the womb.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field; but while the man slept, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and went his way. But when the grain had sprouted and produced a crop, then the weeds also appeared. So the servants of the owner came and said to him, ‘Sir, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then does it have weeds?’ He said to them, ‘An enemy has done this.’

The servants said to him, ‘Do you want us then to go and gather them up?’ But he said, ‘No, lest while you gather up the weeds you also uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest, and at the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, “First gather together the weeds and bind them in bundles to burn them, but gather the wheat into my barn.”

Suffice it to say that evil is so much a part of the “what” and “where” of humanity that it’s going to have to be left alone, for now. Like it or not, there are weeds here, and they have one purpose, to choke out everything, and, worm-canny as this is, possibly have some negative effect on humanity’s final expression.

So, God intervened.

When humany had developed just enough, God Himself entered the womb, as a human, or better, a vaccine of sorts, to introduce a plague of compassion, mercy, forgiveness, peace, life, and love that the world had never seen. Before he departed, He instructed His disciples to spread His plague as far as they were able, even to people groups that no self respecting Jewish would touch with a ten foot pole. He infected 12 people, they went and infected a bunch more, and so on to today where His funk has spread far beyond the original ragamuffins that started all of this.

At the time, God’s people believed that the greatest thing a person could do was “love God with all your heart, your, mind, and your soul.” In His time with us, God pointed out that loving God with everything we have can’t happen unless we’re also loving people with everything we have, and vice versa.

Just to drive it home, for them and for us, He made it clear that this summed up the entire collection of Holy writ.

In light of Jesus’ greatest commandment, and the situation we find ourselves in, the Christian’s job is fourfold.

Good Old Fashioned Sin Management

In the interest of self-interest, the best course of action is to reject the siren call of bad choices, lashing ourselves instead to the cold, boring, splintery mast of self control. In avoiding evil, we don’t make things worse, spreading what we’ve perpetrated against ourselves into the lives of others.

We should stop here and reflect for a moment on something about personal evil that tends to get overlooked. Because we see ourselves as isolated, independent, disconnected organisms, we’ve come to believe that our individual evil doesn’t travel far beyond us. My sin is my sin. Maybe you’re affected if I steal from you, or betray you, or physically harm you, but that’s as far as it goes.

If, however, we’re connected as the Bible seems to think we are, our evil travels far beyond us, much like a rock tossed into a placid mountain lake; the whole thing is moved. My sin is our sin. When I sin against you, I sin against everyone else, and, ironically, against myself.

But be encouraged – the same holds true for our most meagre acts of love.

Of course, this is a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do sort of proposition. While I believe with all of my heart that I shouldn’t do bad things, all of my heart isn’t big enough to compel me to comply when the occasion presents itself. Sure, I can manage some obedience in fits and starts, but I’m still tempted, powerfully so, to do things that run counter to what I believe is right.

Good Old Fashioned Humanitarianism

Second, assuming that we’ve cleaned up our own mess(es, above), we’re to engage the brokenness that everyone else’s evil has caused. Poverty, injustice, war, revenge, entitlement, greed, etc., all come with a huge price tag, rippling far beyond their perpetrator, deep into the heart of everything that’s human. So we’re compelled to feed the poor, right the wrongs, heal the sick, stand up for the helpless and marginalized, etc.

That’s scary, expensive, and doesn’t happen without great personal sacrifice. People have died engaging this stuff. So we instead engage the “easy” battles, ones that require little more than a Sunday morning social media rant. In this, we engage the brokenness of our world, and it leaves us feeling like we’ve done something good, but we’ve contented ourselves with gnat-straining, while the camels are left free to ransack the tent.

“The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.” ~ G.K. Chesterton

But there are other reasons that we turn our noses up at the Gospel’s humanitarian aspects. Consider this brief history:

The “Bible Movement” was born sometime in the 70’s, gaining a full head of steam by the early 80’s. In general, it was a response to the purely humanitarian, not-so-spiritual expressions of Christianity that had been running the show for so much of America’s spiritual history. It was believed that humanitarian efforts, by themselves, could never change the world as deeply as a changed heart, so the focus turned inward, towards personal transformation, sound theology, and right living.

The Bible movement made good theology, ie “truth,” more important than the kind of theology that comes part and parcel to Jesus’ greatest commandment.

Unwittingly, this movement unwittingly vilified humanitarianism, seeing it as the enemy of personal transformation. The more social oriented expressions of Christianity, Catholicism at the head, became the Devil’s agenda, viewed by many as utterly non-Christian. Never before had there been such a rift between those who believed that we should transform the world around us, and those who believed that it was more important to transform ourselves.

While this trouble is alive and well today, it’s beginning to shrink a bit as American Christianity is getting itself “woke” to the idea that scripture calls us, clearly and with annoying frequency, to both.

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’ They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’ He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’”

“So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the entire Bible.” ~ Jesus in Matthew 7:12

Of course, none of this threatens the importance of personal transformation. St. Paul taught that Jesus wants to rewire our minds. King David begged that God would scour the insides of his heart, ridding him of anything that might get in the way of God’s rule in his life. St. John’s gospel reflects many times on the personal benefits of following Jesus.

The Bible is as full of this stuff as it is of the passages that call us to everything else.

Honestly, if I had to choose between humanitarianism without a changed heart, or a changed heart without humanitarianism, I’d choose the former as it results in poor people being fed, inequities engaged, etc., while the latter results not only in a lack of the former, it leaves Christians convinced that their highest calling is adherence to a few moral things and a good rant about abortion and Gay marriage on social media.

If it was up to me, I’d choose both. Someone who believes that God is a king who has the power to do anything He wants, loves unconditionally and without reservation, and who shows up personally with a measure of unimaginable peace and vision, who then believes that this king commands his subjects to step boldly into the brokenness and injustice of this world, to do violence to it, like a surgeon who’s discovered a cancer in his youngest child.

Change

Before Jesus departed, He promised that He would leave behind something that’s best translated as “helper,” or “comforter,” or both. The word ὁ παράκλητος is a bit difficult to translate, but according to NT guru Bill Mounce, it means “counselor, intercessor, helper, one who encourages and comforts; in the NT it refers exclusively to the Holy Spirit and to Jesus Christ.”

For those who have decided to damn the torpedos and follow Jesus into the most broken and scary parts of the womb, there’s hope, help, and a fair bit of power, televangelisty as that comes across.

The same holds true for those whom the world’s brokenness has seated itself comfortably at the kitchen table.

We’re never alone.

For me, I’ve experienced this many times as I walk a bit zombie-like through the world of PTSD. I can, at any time, stop what I’m doing, admit that I’m hurting, and/or about ready to do some real damage to the good things in my life, and ask for help.

I can’t think of a time when God’s failed to answer. For sure, I’ve refused to ask on occasion, mainly born from my epic authority issues, but all stupidity aside, this sh@t’s real.

I can also attest that I’m a much different person that I was 20 years ago. Apart from the help that God has provided over the years, I wouldn’t be married, much less the father of three adopted children. I’m not sure I’d be alive. My anxiety, insecurity, and general propensity towards stupidity have all taken a hit, rendering a man that never should’ve been.

God has called His people, literally, to “storm the gates of hell,” to engage with lethal force the broken, ugly, violent, unfair, hopeless places of this womb. They are legion, and frightening. We can’t walk into these impossible places without the tangible presence of God, and the peace, hope, and life that attend it.

Go, Therefore

Last, we’re to take this plague that’s come over us, and spread it as far as we possibly can. I know, I’m now peddling proselytization, but hang with me.

New Testament Christianity is unique from every other religion in one important aspect: God entered into humanity and did something that removed every barrier between us and Him. According to scripture, all of our sins have been forgotten, regardless of what religion we embrace. The only thing that now stands between us is the choice to live in this freedom that God as provided. Barriers now obliterated, If we’ll give our consent, He’ll enter into us, turn everything upside down, and inject a level of peace, hope, and life that, as I’ll again atest, changes everything.

In spreading Christianity (not the angry, benign, mindless knock-off version) we’re spreading peace, hope, and life – the kind every human on the planet is looking for.

Why would I then not try my best to spread this as far as I can?

A few years ago, a friend of mine sat crying at our kitchen counter, convinced that God had rejected her: she was raised in a fundamentalist Baptist household and was sure that God could never love a Gay person. I can’t describe the fire that burnt inside as I listened to her despair and watched the tears roll down her cheeks. What followed from me was a very clear, very passionate, somewhat loud dissertation on the unconditional love of God. I didn’t rip on her parents, or bring up some of the Bible passages that are commonly used to remind Gay people that they need to stop being Gay. I simply introduced her to a different God, one that she had become convinced didn’t exist, and invited her to step towards Him.

If you hail from the more benign, angry, cultural Christian persuasion, you’ll comment below that I should’ve instead launched into a passionate, clear dissertation on the morality of alternate sexual orientation. But that’s not what Jesus has called me to. As His child, unformed though I may be, Jesus sent me to invite people into a life of dependence upon, submission towards, and mutual love within the God who became human, who loves us without condition.

Un-p.c. as it sounds, you’ll find me in these conversations doing my best to direct people towards a view of God, an understanding of themselves, and way of life that I’ve come to believe changes everthing, and, again, infects our current situation with something that does great violence to the evil that’s trying it’s best to lead people into something completely different, at great expense to all of us.

Either way, as the Bible says, “this current world will pass away.” If you’ve stuck with me until this point, considering the idea that this world on some level is like a womb, it’s better to say that this world will be washed away, leaving behind only one thing that matters. As such, there’s only one thing that we should be investing our time, resources, and energy in, the only thing that will matter to God when the time comes for us to be spat out into a much fuller expression of everything.

“Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey all that I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, even to the end of this age.'” ~ Matthew 28:18-20