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Engaging Learning to Communicate

“There is a big fallacy in your train of thinking, sounds like it may have been learned at one of those institutions of ‘so-called’ higher learning!”

This is a deflective, cheap shot that I hear frequently. Interestingly, I never promote my education in conversations; one must look at my CV, LinkedIn profile, or Academic profile to obtain that information. 

However, this raises an interesting question that some have actually asked and others have skirted around. Why did I pursue advanced degrees, and why do I work at learning more about philosophy, theology, sociology, law, and history? My quest is prompted by three things that etched themselves into my imagination.

First, there is the model of Daniel, one of my favorite prophets. Having been captured in the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem in 486 BC, he was displaced and resettled, along with other intelligent young men, in Babylon to serve in the king’s palace. Daniel, it is noted, excelled in learning the literature and language of the Chaldean. God gave Daniel and his friends the ability to learn, assimilate, and apply knowledge while also giving Daniel insight into all visions and dreams.

Daniel, a scholar in “secular” knowledge, an uncompromised servant of God, and a spiritually gifted person, was able to relate to Chaldeans on their own terms, in their own language, referencing their own literature with insights from God. It’s all there in the Old Testament (the Tanakh) in the book that bears his name.

Second, there is a picture that intrigued me as a child, which I used to illustrate this post. According to Wikipedia, the original photograph was taken by Eric Enstrom in his studio in the early 1900s. While the photo itself is a studio illustration of piety that may not have accurately reflected the subject’s actual lifestyle, it has always spoken to me of the humility and trust that I strive to embody in my relationship with Christ and others. This picture speaks to me in ways that I find difficult to articulate fully; it hangs in my office over my bookshelves as a reminder of who I am.

Third, there are the people I have known over the years, individuals who have struggled deeply, tormented by their past or their family of origin, or imprisoned by their greed, facing the wreckage of their behavior. They have called me to lament and weep over their loss. Women who have been raped and physically abused, who have sat with me to question where God was in their pain. Men who, upon discovering the infidelity of their wives, felt crushed under the collapse of what they thought they had. Addicts who could not shake the chains of their addictions and were desperate to find a way out. A single mom who had just received word she had an inoperable form of cancer and three months to live. A university professor who confidently asserted what I believed was little more than myth and had the citations to provide a robust defense of his proposition, yet he admitted his own questions about life and death troubled him deeply. The truckers who cursed when I arrived at the truck stop to talk with the cook, who was one of my parishioners, and announced my arrival with the words, “Hey, everyone, this is my pastor, Ray.” I’ve never seen a diner empty faster. Or, the woman who fell at my feet, weeping because she felt so alone and unworthy, but looked for reassurance that Jesus did love her. Or, the woman who was miraculously healed of cancer, an event verified by her puzzled radiologist, and wanted to know how to live as a believer. Or the young female manager who broke down in a training session, weeping. When I pulled her aside to ask what the problem was, she related that she had been given the position as a bribe to avoid reporting sexual abuse. Or, the mom whose full-term, nine-pound stillborn boy I held in my arms as she and her husband wept over the loss of their child.

I could go on, but the point is that these faces from my pastoral experience and later my consulting experience are deeply ingrained in my mind. They asked disturbingly profound questions, the kind that are untouchable by platitudes and random Bible quotations.

I am committed to learning, listening, intercession, and works of grace. I hold to the concept of common grace, i.e., the universal and undeserved goodness of God toward sinners. By common grace, God restrains sin, evil, misery, and wrath in this fallen world, while conferring general, non-redemptive blessings on all people. I see scientific knowledge, insights, and breakthroughs as part of this grace. I see medicine and art as part of this grace. All discoveries that restrain evil, misery, and wrath in this world are part of God’s common grace. Oddly, some Christians can’t see this grace at work and assign it the pejorative title of secular knowledge. However, my experience shows that any knowledge, biblical or secular, can be used either to promote the welfare of others or to oppress, steal, and destroy others. Daniel used “secular” knowledge as a platform for communication with profound effect.

So, for those who have asked, here are my motives. I will continue to learn, explore, and apply all that I can for the welfare of the city I live in and of those I influence. My life verse, found in Paul’s letter to the Colossian church, is a fitting summary of my quest: We proclaim Him, admonishing every person and teaching every person with all wisdom, so that we may present every person complete in Christ. (Colossians 1:28)

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Unintended Consequences

Even the best approach to decision making can have unintended consequences, which run the risk of creating harm for constituents and stakeholders that was not foreseen. I’ve been involved in business, nonprofit, and social groups for over 50 years, and I’ve observed a correlation between the way decisions are made and the extent of damage caused by their unintended consequences. First, the degree to which key stakeholders have limited input directly corresponds to the intensity of damage and toxicity generated by the unintended consequences of a decision. Second, the more limited the input, the greater the damage done. Conversely, the broader the input, the less damage is generated.

Additional corollaries must be taken into account. Decision makers must share the same data factors. I’ve seen executives, for example, pull managers together to present a business problem. The managers are not given all the data that the executives are privy to. When asked how the managers would address the challenge, they respond from their frame of reference, which is always more limited than that of the executives. The managers were then berated for their advice because it failed to address all the ramifications known to the executive team. Is this a management failure? No, it’s a leadership failure on the part of the executives who had no intention of entering into shared decision-making. Instead, they simply wanted to impress on the managers that the executive team had superior decision-making skills and should be trusted regardless of the unintended consequences of the decision.

The other correlation is the frame of reference. Every decision made has an impact on the organization structurally, politically, symbolically, and relationally (Human Resources). It makes sense to think about the impact of a decision using all four frames of reference. I once saw executives toss a challenge to managers for input. The managers responded from a relational perspective. I thought they had a clear understanding of the potential outcomes on employees’ experience and opinion of the company. The managers were dismissed for their failure to calculate the financial aspects of the decision. The interesting thing in this case was that the managerial assessment was spot on. When the “right-sizing,” “profit-enhancing” decision was implemented, employee engagement and productivity plummeted. The company followed up the decision with the three worst quarters it had experienced since it’s founding.

Knowledge, not just technical knowledge but social knowledge, i.e., the lived experience of stakeholders, is limited. Perspective is limited, and so all decisions are suspect; they are incomplete and cannot afford to be made within rigid or non-malleable conceptual models. This means decision makers are wise to hold their decisions with an open hand, to remain adaptable as new insights, often generated in unintended consequences, emerge.

I serve on two nonprofit boards of directors. One works in the healthcare space, the other works in the judicial system with abused and neglected children. Here is what I see in light of the changes the president and Congress have made in public policy by reducing benefits in social support services.

First, we are scrambling to fill the gaps in funding we have lost because of President Trump’s policies. Our loss of funding directly impacts our ability to fulfill our mission, i.e., provide healthcare in one instance and provide support services for abused and neglected children on the other. This has nothing to do with fraud or waste (as often touted by this administration’s budget-busting); both nonprofits I serve undergo annual audits and quarterly reviews. These funding gaps are directly due to cuts in congressionally approved budget expenditures and benefits.

Second, in the healthcare space we see a direct threat to being able to maintain core services on the one hand and anticipate both an increase in misapplied services (for example an increased use of our emergency room for what should be taken to primary care physicians) and a more frequent occurrence of uninsured public (I anticipate that the number of uninsured will increase, not among so called “deadbeats” but among the working poor, many of whom are young families).

I don’t mean to suggest that President Trump or the Republican Congress intends to rob children, young families, and the elderly of access to healthcare and the resources they need to survive the neglect and abuse that they are victims of, but that is the consequence of these decisions.

Wise leaders listen to the feedback of those who see the unintended consequences of leadership decisions. Fools, braggarts, and blowhards ignore those consequences and double down on their rhetoric. I’ll let you be the judge on whether we have wise or fatuous leaders in the president and Congress. What I won’t allow is the denial that these consequences are real. I am not citing a hypothetical; I am not repeating a partisan talking point. You may not see them yet. I am working off a data set to which you have no exposure. But, you will see these consequences, and when you do, two things will most likely be true. First, it will be much farther reaching than it is now. Second, you will experience those consequences personally, directly, or indirectly through extended family.

Please, think about the unintended consequences of your rhetoric of support or opposition. Don’t accept the malicious characterizations of people who have a different experience from your own. Exercise the care to consider more than a single course of action or decision-making by listening to, rather than immediately rejecting, the insights or observations of those with a different perspective. Exercise the humility (rather than avoidance or denial) needed to change your mind and actions as you see the unintended consequences of your voice. Thanks for taking a moment to read this. I welcome your help in answering the challenges I have outlined.

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Who Gets In? A Pastoral Reflection

I was asked recently, “Do you think horrendously evil people could get into heaven? You know, people like murderers, rapists, child molesters, and war criminals.”

“I think it’s the wrong question,” I answered.

“Why?” She sat looking surprised and puzzled by my response. She has listed an undeniably repulsive list of criminal actions.

“It seems to me that the criteria Jesus talked about most, what he looked for most in the people who came to him, was transparency about their condition,” I said. “Look,” I continued, “Jesus said he didn’t come for the healthy; he came for the sick. The healthy don’t need (or don’t think they need) a physician.”

In my pastoral work, I have sat listening to stories of all kinds of deep, horrific behaviors, failed relationships, scarring from parental abuse, wounds from the physical abuse of a spouse, along with stories of addictions to drugs, sex, and adrenaline. It never ceased to be surprising that when I either just repeated what I had heard or extrapolated the source of pain from the poorly veiled descriptions of the congregant, their mouths would drop open, and they’d exclaim, “How do you know that?”

I learned to respond gently, “You just told me.”

In reading through the history of our founding as a nation, the political observations of the Machiavellians, the records of congressional debate, or the policy debates of political operatives, either contemporary or historical—as well as the personal correspondence of religious figures, I have come to see that humans have a grasp of the damage we inflict on one another. We are inadvertently transparent with people we feel safe around when we have consumed enough alcohol or when we believe we have a guarantee of privacy. It is unsurprising to find our behavior and words mirrored by those we consider unimportant or inattentive.

I have concluded that God will need to exert no more effort than repeating what we have said or rationalizing to exercise judgment against us. We find the idea of exposure and judgment appalling; whose standard can stand the test of objective judgment? It turns out that we routinely condemn ourselves by openly acknowledging that we know what we are doing is wrong, but because it works to our benefit, even if others are hurt, we do it anyway.

It turns out that humans are not that sophisticated or adept at hiding their errors. Well, at least until they are openly exposed to public scrutiny. Then, we become masters of gaslighting, red-herring arguments, and ad hominem justifications.

Families have secrets, nations have secrets, organizations have secrets, and businesses have secrets; what a silly game we play attempting to deny systemic bias, racism, economic inequity, social inequities, and legal manipulations at the root of our histories and our secrets.

Here is what makes the gospel of Jesus so revolutionary, unnerving, and revealing: Jesus asks us to admit what we attempt to conceal and, in that admission, to allow his love to begin a transformative work in us. Who gets in is simple, but it has little to do with creeds, formulas, or statements of belief. Will you open your secrets to the one who brings both exposure and healing through his resurrection from the dead? Will you exercise the humility needed to learn to walk through life with a different set of values, assumptions, and allegiances? You can’t pretend to be honest. You can pretend to be religious to everyone except those who know you best and have been impacted by your poor decisions.

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The American Ideal – A Disappointing Reality

What differentiates the United States from every other nation? I was taught American exceptionalism, the idea that the United States of America is a unique and even morally superior country for historical, ideological, and religious reasons. Proponents of American exceptionalism generally pair the belief with the claim that the United States is obligated to play a special role in global politics.

However, neither our history nor our current experience aligns with the ideal completely. Rather than making America great (or great again), we nurture a systemic dark side in our history that is no different than any other national system and might even be worse because we carry a self-inflicted imprisonment to the power paradox. As Dacher Keltner explains, “We rise in power and make a difference in the world due to what is best about human nature, but we fall from power due to what is worst. We gain a capacity to make a difference in the world by enhancing the lives of others, but the very experience of having power and privilege leads us to behave, in our worst moments, like impulsive, out-of-control sociopaths.”[1]

Wait, you say, we don’t oppress people, we don’t commit atrocities like genocide, and we don’t arbitrarily invade other countries and rob them of their natural resources and identity. Or do we? The truth is that such sociopathic behaviors weave through our American experience in varying degrees of intensity.

Our nation bears the shameful heritage of the African slave trade. That is terrible, but it is not the only example. American Policy under President Jackson pushed the Indian Removal Act through Congress in 1830. The U.S. government spent nearly 30 years forcing Indigenous peoples to move westward, beyond the Mississippi River.[2]  More than 15,000 members of the Cherokee tribe were forced to walk from their homes in the Southern states to a designated territory in present-day Oklahoma in 1838. Many died along the way.

The policies of President Jackson were not isolated; the United States has a consistent history of making and breaking treaties with Native Americans. Of the nearly 370 treaties negotiated between the U.S. and tribal leaders, Stacker has compiled a list of 15 broken treaties negotiated between 1777 and 1868.[3] 

The lofty words of the Declaration of Independence never quite became the reality of all people’s existence.[4] Its self-evident truths had a built-in paradox: neither women nor slaves were included. This paradox didn’t sneak up on us as a nation; it was understood and ignored from the start. Historian Joseph J. Ellis notes that Jefferson lived the twin American dilemmas of slavery and racism more poignantly than any of the other prominent members of the revolutionary generation. Two of his children were among his ninety-three slaves in 1800. Jefferson personified the coexistence of slavery and the creedal commitment to individual freedom.[5] All the founding fathers winked at this contradiction. The problem was that it set up not just the Civil War conflict but also a long history of policy and mindset that repressed and disadvantaged an entire people of the American story.

The sociopathic behaviors that amplified slavery didn’t stop with the Civil War; they metastasized into the economy. The Labor Movement and the Abolitionist movement emerged simultaneously, raising questions about the meaning of free labor.[6]

Labor leaders framed their case for free labor by pointing to the problem of wage slavery, where working for wages was tantamount to slavery in that it left workers impoverished, thus denying them the economic and political independence essential to republican citizenship.

Arguments against this parallel pointed out that all avenues of wealth are open to all – the US is an open society in which some achieve more and others less. The argument sounds meritocratic but belies the power paradox in economic affluence. The experience of Chinese immigrants illustrates the point further regarding unequal access to opportunity.

With the increase of Chinese immigrants in the 1880s, Chinese were viewed not only as an inferior and undesirable population but also as an actual threat to American culture, the American government, and even the Caucasian race. Chinese helped build the transnational railroad lines.[7] Their reward?

The end of the 19th century brought about increased violence and anti-Chinese riots, and many Chinese were simply driven out of their adopted communities. In some of the worst cases, like Rock Springs, Wyoming or Los Angeles, Chinese were attacked and lynched. In each city, over 20 Chinese were brutally murdered in killing sprees. Accompanying the physical violence were waves of anti-Chinese legislation passed both locally and federally. San Francisco, which had a large Chinese population, passed harsh city ordinances designed to harass Chinese workers. By 1882, Congress passed the Chinese Exclusion Act which explicitly banned Chinese laborers from entering the United States. The Chinese became the first ethnic group ever to be targeted for exclusion from immigration to the U.S. based on race.[8]

So even though Abolitionists argued, based on their voluntarist views, that slavery was wrong not because slaves lacked economic or political independence but because they were forced to work against their will. Freedom from slavery did not allow the slave to be his own master, rather than answering all his complaints upon entry into voluntary labor. What proponents like William Jay considered emancipation, the labor movement considered a condition of dependence—the slave moved from servitude to a person to servitude to capital.

As sociopathic behaviors metastasized into the economy, some argued that the problem was not the wage labor system itself but its abuse, i.e., wages were not proportional to the value of the labor performed.

Still, others asserted that wage laborers could easily improve their lot through self-denial, temperance, education, and moral and religious character.[9] As authors like Ta-Nehisi Coates point out, this is a favorite chorus of the oppressor to the marginalized and oppressed. It assumes equal opportunity, which never quite materializes.

Perceptive observers like George Fitzhugh argued that the only difference between southern slave owners and northern capitalists was that slavers took responsibility for their slaves, supporting them in sickness and old age. In contrast, northern capitalists took none for theirs.

I could go on; the genocide of Native Americans in the west in the nineteenth century, the ongoing racism and political oppression of voters, the scandal surrounding My Lai massacre in 1968, and the vilification of immigrants we see increasing under this administration all point to the unavoidable reality that America is not an exceptional force for good on the planet. The more I know of our history, the more humbled I am, and the more I recognize the need for other voices to help me see the whole picture of my existence. We (Americans) are not exceptional; we are unsurprisingly human, expressing the same glint of nobility and utter villainy exhibited in all humanity.  

It is often uncomfortable to face the miserable and poisonous parts of our history as a nation. But we cannot afford to cover it up as the present administration seems hellbent on doing.[10] We are a nation built on diversity that claims unanimity. It is not ok to whitewash our history, to ignore the various perspectives of our national identity, because it makes people like me uncomfortable to discover that the claim that all men are created equal has consistently been interpreted in action as applicable only to the privileged and powerful.  

I think about this as a pastoral theologian. As such, I reject the idea of American exceptionalism, not just on the evidence of our bipolar history regarding human rights and equality but also on the theological observation that all people fall short of the promise of their creation. In my own experience, it has been conversations with others that have shown me the implicit biases that have made me a culpable contributor to bipolar behavior so evident in our history, past and present. If we want to make America great again, we cannot do it by denying our worst behaviors only to double down in our attempts to justify ourselves or deny what is so apparent. If we want to be great, we are called upon to confess our failures and commit ourselves to the kind of service that achieves the self-evident, i.e., that all men are created equal. I hope for a metanoia moment in America. I wish for an honest reckoning with our points of arrogant failure and economic and social oppression. But repentance is a bitter pill to the pride of humankind; the privileged scoff at it as foolishness. The oppressed reject it as manipulative. But when repentance and confession are genuinely engaged, they become transformative and rejuvenating. What happens if we fail to engage the transforming work of repentance? Thomas Jefferson may have summed it up the best: “Indeed I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just; that his justice cannot sleep forever…The Almighty has no attributes which can take sides with us.”[11]

[1] Dacher Keltner. (2016) The Power Paradox: How We Gain and Lose Influence. New York: Penguins Books, 1-2.

[2] McNamara, Robert. “American Indian Removal Policy and the Trail of Tears.” ThoughtCo, Apr. 5, 2023, https://www.thoughtco.com/the-trail-of-tears-1773597; Accessed 10 April 2025.

[3] Source: https://stacker.com/stories/history/broken-us-indigenous-treaties-timeline; Accessed 10 April 2025.

[4] Source: https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/declaration-transcript; Accessed 10 April 2025.

[5] Joseph J. Ellis. (2018) American Dialogue: The Founders and Us. New York: Alfred A . Knopf, 1-14.

[6] Michael J. Sandel. (2022) Democracy’s Discontent: A New Edition For Our Perilous Times. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 64-106.

[7] Source: http://teachingresources.atlas.illinois.edu/chinese_exp/introduction04.html; Accessed 10 April 2025.

[8] Source: https://www.teachingforchange.org/exclusionact#:~:text=The%20end%20of%20the%2019th%20century%20brought%20about,or%20Los%20Angeles%2C%20Chinese%20were%20attacked%20and%20lynched.; Accessed 10 April 2025.

[9] Such pronouncements overlooked the reality of systemic racism, bias, and self-interests inherent in capitalism.

[10] See, for example, the president’s executive order regarding the Smithsonian. Source: https://www.whitehouse.gov/fact-sheets/2025/03/fact-sheet-president-donald-j-trump-restores-truth-and-sanity-to-american-history/. In his order, the phrase « divisive ideology » refers to nothing more than the diversity of cultural perspectives that make up the American experience. Some of these perspectives highlight the ways in which our bipolar commitment to equality has oppressed and destroyed fellow Americans.

[11] Ellis 2018:25.

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When Dialogue Ceases

I awoke this morning to discover that my Facebook account had been permanently disabled. Apparently, in the night, a hacker first tried to reproduce my site and then did something to have my account permanently disabled.

I have been engaged in multiple discussions about what it means to be a follower of Christ in this Orwellian time. I found people who vehemently disagreed with me. I understand high emotions in times of disorienting change. I know that part of what we face in our everyday lives is not just a difference of perspective but a deliberate attempt to mask the realities of implicit bias that derail our ability to communicate to people who are different from us in their ethnic or sexual identities or political persuasions.

I have two commitments that drive my thinking. First is a commitment to Jesus as Lord. I use this first-century title because it seems to have recovered its subversive nature. To say Jesus is Lord in the first century was to boldly undermine Ceasar’s prominence and the Roman Imperial government’s demands. Early Christians understood they were part of something greater, a new humanity, a new community that relied on something far different than ethnic or political loyalties/identities. They were not revolutionaries; they were not attempting to overthrow Rome. Paul’s reminder to be subject to governing authorities reinforces this. But, it does not suggest a carte blanc approach to silently endorsing everything governing authorities do. Paul himself pointed to political hypocrisy and evil more than once. He did it respectfully. He also confronted religious authorities for the same.

Esau McCaulley, PhD, The Jonathan Blanchard Associate Professor of New Testament and Public Theology at Wheaton College, points out that Romans 13:1-2 discusses the problem of evil rulers. Paul’s words cannot be taken without qualification as there are ample illustrations of individuals challenging corrupt or evil systems and structures (including Paul). Instead, McCaulley sees this section as (1) a description of action that recognizes the limitation of our discernment of God’s action to address evil systems and (2) the limits God places on the treatment of citizens (the recognition of the reality of structural evil, i.e., it is not the enforcers but the system that directs them that Paul calls us to engage from the foundation of submission. So he writes,

“Paul’s words about submission to governing authorities must be read in light of four realities: (1) Paul’s use of Pharaoh in Romans as an example of God removing authorities through human agents shows that his prohibition against resistance is not absolute; (2) the wider Old Testament testifies to Gods use of human agents to take down corrupt governments; (3) in light of the first two propositions, we can affirm that God is active through human beings even when we can’t discern the exact role we play; (4) therefore, Paul’s words should be seen as more of a limit on our discernment than on Gods activities.”1

My Second commitment is to intellectual integrity and the concept of common grace. By intellectual integrity, I mean a search for reliable and verifiable facts. I avoid using secondary sources if I can, I check for accuracy in reporting by searching more than one source, and I use the actual words and speeches of public figures rather than the commentary or reinterpretation of spokespeople. By common grace, I mean God’s continuing care for his creation, his restraining human society from becoming altogether intolerable and ungovernable, making it possible for mankind to live together in a generally orderly and cooperative manner, and maintaining man’s conscious sense of fundamental right and wrong behavior. Advancements that come through medicine, technology, or other sciences that improve people’s lives are initiated by and outcomes of God’s common grace. I do not see science as an enemy but a benefit.

So, while I have lost one platform, I will continue to reflect on the times in which we live, the actions of our government, and the actions of the church in light of my two commitments and my desire to fulfill the gifts God has given me and the calling God has summoned me to as a pastor, teacher, and friend. I hope that my words bring hope, peace, and thought-provoking agitation toward new ways of seeing the world and being a friend of God and others. I hope dialogue, the only way we can see our world more clearly, does not end. I hope the dialogue continues to render for you and me a wondrously richer life.

  1. Esau McCaulley. (2020) Reading While Black: African American Biblical Interpretation as an exercise in hope. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 31. ↩︎
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God and DEI

I’m trying to understand the backlash to diversity, equity, and inclusion. Apart from feelings of a loss of control or a shift in social favoritism (privilege), is there a rationale that securing equal opportunities for a diverse group of marginalized people is a bad idea? To be clear, my perspective as a white male now retired may not reflect the wide diversity of marginalized groups, but it does reflect my experience.

Have I lost opportunities because of a commitment to DEI in organizations? The question is complex, so here’s why. Yes, I have lost job opportunities for which I studied to candidates representing greater diversity. But these candidates possessed better credentials than I did. Where I had completed a Master’s and Doctoral degree, they had completed several just to be considered. At one university, I was bumped out of a full-time professorship when it sought to become more diverse in its faculty. Diversity of perspectives, both academically and culturally, was a good idea for an educational institution that drew students from all around the globe.

But I was still disappointed. I still taught as an adjunct, and in that capacity, I was privileged to build friendships with those hired to pursue the University’s diversity goals. Eventually, they were a pleasure, encouragement, and enrichment to me. The obstacles they had overcome, their experiences in their fields, and the graciousness with which they related to others all modeled for me what the best of being human was all about. My choice to remain engaged rather than embittered helped me gain a deeper appreciation of the power of diversity.

I once worked in a company that regularly bid on government contracts. Our ownership and management team had to meet diversity standards. Did that diminish our skill, talent, and effectiveness? Nope, it increased them; we were better at meeting the needs of our diverse marketplace. We became better internal communicators as we had to work through differences in assumptions and values. No one lost opportunity; we all gained.

Everything we do structurally/organizationally to correct wrongs is imperfect. That is why leadership calls for a keen ear and a humble attitude. We make changes; then we see the unintended consequences of those changes. Were the initiatives bad at the start? Sometimes, they were. In others, the initiative was good, and experience refined it.

In hanging around God, the Christian God, the incarnate one, I have learned to brace myself for diverse experiences. God invites everyone, regardless of culture, social status, gender, or political persuasion, into an upside-down Kingdom that calls us to serve one another. The way Jesus framed the work of God is unsettling to every existing power structure, religious, political, social, or personal. Even a quick perusal of the sermon on the mount reveals that Jesus’ calling to us is not only radically different from what we are accustomed to, it is also radically transforming. The disciples wrestled with the diversity of Jesus’ work. They questioned his conversation with the Samaritan woman – she had two strikes against her; she was a woman and a cultural outsider. They questioned Jesus’ time with tax collectors (they were traitors and unpatriotic) – Jesus refocused them on the purpose of his ministry. They shunned the ministry of those outside their group – Jesus rebuked them. They argued about who would be the greatest among themselves – revealing their zero-sum approach to life – Jesus embarrassed them by pointing out that they had to become like little children (not immature but adventurous, accepting, and learners).  

I am not suspicious of DEI initiatives; they reflect, however imperfectly, the diversity of the ecclesia. Considering this, the church should applaud DEI efforts and hold those who seek to diminish, remove, and castigate such efforts in an embrace of loving confrontation. Can we do better? Yes, but starting with declarations that DEI is just another form of racism smacks of the kind of fear, suspicion, and bias that makes initiatives like DEI essential to keep. The question I constantly have to ask myself is, do I reflect the upside-down kingdom of God or just my own cultural biases and upbringing that I find is often an impediment to God’s working.?

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Church and State – A Model Relationship

During the 2024 Presidential election campaign season, an acquaintance asked me what my problem was with Mr. Trump. I explained that my difficulty wasn’t with Mr. Trump, I could vote for someone else, my difficulty was with Evangelical leaders’ unqualified support of Mr. Trump’s candidacy for the presidency. I explained that what I found surprising in the support offered by the Evangelical world for Mr. Trump was a distinct lack of coaching in the faith they said he professed in Jesus as Lord. The President’s rhetoric and some of his values stand in opposition to faith in Christ.

Yet rather than offer an instructive and challenging voice, Evangelicals seemed to double down on their claim that Mr. Trump was God’s solution for the nation’s challenges. A parade of false equivalences usually attended such claims, e.g., David was anointed yet imperfect, Moses was a murderer yet called to save a nation, etc. I say false equivalencies because these two examples were men who admitted their weaknesses and failures and asked God for forgiveness. They had a track record of helping the weak, the oppressed, the outcast, and the nation. Mr. Trump has engaged policies that help specific categories of the downtrodden, namely the unborn, while simultaneously using rhetoric that demeans, dehumanizes, and vilifies others. These weren’t the only examples of course, The President has also been compared to the Persian king, Cyrus who granted permission for Jewish exiles in Babylon to return to Israel and rebuild Jerusalem and the Temple.

Public policy is complex; for every solution, there are unexpected consequences. Governance is imperfect, so we have a system that limits power, encourages debate, and continuously aims to refine our perspectives toward a more perfect union.

Given this imperfect form of governance and the Church’s identity as a pilgrim and stranger on this planet, I would expect that Christian leaders would have wise and discerning coaching insights and reminders for political leaders, especially those who have made a public declaration that they are God’s answer to social problems. As President Trump said in his inaugural address, “I felt then — and believe even more so now — that my life was saved for a reason I was saved by God to make America great again.”[1] That President Trump has reflected on what God may be doing to save him from assassination is encouraging. Where are the Christian leaders instructing and confronting him instead of acting like sycophants?

I was encouraged to hear Bishop Marianne Budde’s homily at the National Prayer Service.  At the National Prayer Service on Tuesday (21 January) at the National Cathedral in Washington, Bishop Budde publicly asked the president to have mercy on LGBT+ children and to understand that immigrants are not all criminals and that many are afraid of what he might do to them.[2] Her tone was respectful and filled with grace. Praise God for leaders who respect their calling and the political servants around them enough to encourage them to think in God’s terms.

I am disappointed to hear the President’s response to Bishop Budde. Rather than applaud her encouragement to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly before God. Writing on Truth Social after midnight on Wednesday, Trump called the bishop “very ungracious” and “not very good at her job.”[3]  Back to false equivalencies for a moment, when David was confronted by those around him he didn’t fire back with insults, he listened then he responded to God. I pray that the President would learn from others. I understand that the President doesn’t support the LGBTQ+ community. Differences in value and policies have always coexisted in the United States. But, regardless of the policy differences, the heart of the gospel still rests on mercy.

The President sets a tone for the country. His rhetorical crassness bears unfortunate fruit as evidenced in statements like that of Rep. Mike Collins (R-Ga.) whose response to Biship Budde was, “The person giving this sermon should be added to the deportation list.” Collins wrote in a post on the social platform X, alongside a clip of Budde’s comments.[4]

I am not proposing that Christian leaders moralize every flaw they see. I am proposing that actions like that of Bishop Budde are appropriate reminders of an agenda that transcends partisanship. As servants of the living God, we need to run the risk of confronting power when power has lost sight of the common good, which in this case includes the 50.2% of the popular vote that did not vote for Mr. Trump.[5]

[1] Source: https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/261667/at-inauguration-president-trump-vows-new-golden-age-i-was-saved-by-god-to-make-america-great-again; Accessed 22 Jan 2025.

[2] Source: https://www.aol.com/bishop-mariann-budde-explains-why-173324927.html; Accessed 22 Jan 2025.

[3] Source: https://www.newsweek.com/trump-responds-bishop-confronted-him-very-ungracious-2018704; Accessed 22 Jan 2025.

[4] Source: https://thehill.com/homenews/house/5098959-gop-member-wants-bishop-added-to-deportation-list-after-trump-prayer-service/; Accessed 22 Jan 2025.

[5] Source: https://www.cfr.org/article/2024-election-numbers; Accessed 22 Jan 2025.

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Happy New Year – Lessons Learned


When I saw the picture of this coffee mug on social media, it caused me to reflect on those times in 2024 when those around me challenged my behavior. What caught my attention about the mug is the sense of shock it portrays that we may well be the author of consequences we face that are too easy to blame on others. Responding effectively when confronted about your behavior is a significant leadership skill and a vital interpersonal skill. Staying calm, open, and thoughtful is a deliberate choice when exposed to our biases, misconceptions, or contradictory behavior. I practiced these skills in 2024 with a mixed record of success. So, as I travel into 2025, fully intending to be a blessing and acknowledging that I will continue to find the need to admit error and grow in understanding and grace, I offer these reminders.

Stay Calm and Composed. When challenged, avoid reacting defensively or emotionally. Take a deep breath and take a moment to process what is being said. Christians are familiar with conviction, i.e., the state of being convinced of error or compelled to admit the truth. In this sense, being convicted is not a road to shame but an opportunity to learn. While shame may raise its head, it doesn’t need to derail learning.  

Listen Actively. Pay attention to the person’s concerns without interruption.  There is something profoundly healing in listening empathetically to another person. Of course, that is the challenge when one is the subject of another person’s complaint. Show that you listen through nods or simple acknowledgments like, “I see” or “I understand.”

Acknowledge Their Perspective. Even if you disagree, recognize their feelings with a response such as, “I see how this upset you.” Avoid dismissing their concerns, especially through gaslighting statements like, “You shouldn’t feel that way” or “You have completely misread my intention.”

Take Responsibility. If their concerns are valid, admit your mistake: “You’re right; I could have handled that better.” Throughout my life, I have made plenty of blunders and have been appropriately challenged about the consequences. I never cease to be amazed at how simply admitting my errors deescalates the emotional tension of such encounters.

If you are unsure of the concern’s validity, you might try responding, “I need to think about this more, but I appreciate you bringing it up.”

Clarify and Ask Questions. If something is unclear, ask for specifics: “Can you help me understand what specifically bothered you?”  Asking this question has given me much deeper insight into the impact of my assumptions, sometimes embarrassingly so. But it also opened the door to deeper self-understanding and transformation.

On another occasion, asking questions led me to discover that what bothered an individual wasn’t my behavior directly but an association with a prior experience of the other person. One person on my team with whom I had a regular conflict and was ready to fire over it one day admitted that I had a facial expression that mirrored that of her abusive father. She was triggered and acted out before she could identify the reason. Not only did this create strife between us, but it also often left me completely baffled. We talked about her experience enough to design a safe word that only she and I understood. When I experienced her triggered behavior, I said the safe word to alert her to her reactive responses.

Share Your Perspective (if appropriate). I often engage in difficult conversations with people I know and respect. There are times when it is appropriate for me to share my perspective. However, when doing so, avoid blaming or justifying; instead, explain calmly: “I didn’t realize how it came across. That wasn’t my intention.”  However, here is the challenge: our intentions don’t always come across in our behaviors. There may be times when our intentions are more idealized than actuated. When this is the case, behavior speaks louder than words. So, stay attentive when sharing your perspective and acknowledge quickly if you realize your actions did contradict your intentions and/or your core values.

Apologize if Needed.  A sincere apology can go a long way: “I’m sorry for how my actions affected you. I’ll work on this.” I like to follow up on the apology with a request for forgiveness, knowing that depending on the depth of the offense, forgiveness may not be immediately forthcoming. It may take time for the offended party to extend forgiveness. Then, it may or may not mean that we can reconcile. Remember, forgiveness and reconciliation are not the same thing. They will work in tandem in an ideal world, but we live in a broken world.

Commit to Improvement. Showing that you are willing to make changes verifies your apology and request for forgiveness. Without this commitment, your words are little more than an attempt to mask your behavior. Say: “I’ll be more mindful of this in the future.”

Follow Through. Actions speak louder than words. Make an effort to adjust your behavior moving forward and check in with the person who pointed out your deficiency in the first place to see how you are doing. Follow-through requires you to reflect on the feedback you have received. Make your reflection in prayer and in your mind. Allow the Holy Spirit to deepen the insights you have. This can help you grow personally and improve your relationships.

If 2024 taught me one specific lesson, it was that remaining respectful and self-aware makes a significant difference in resolving interpersonal conflict constructively. Now, to take these lessons into a new year.

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Election 2024 – Picking Up the Pieces

Commentary about the 2024 presidential election focuses a lot on the polarization in American politics. But what were the common themes, even between widely divergent extremes?

Michael J. Sandel’s synopsis of issues identifies two themes of discontent: the fear that, individually and collectively, we are losing control of the forces that govern our lives and the fear that the moral fabric of community is unraveling around us.[i]

What drives our shared sense of lost control and unraveling moral fabric? Pew Research noted that a majority say special interests dominate the political process, which is flooded with campaign cash and mired in partisan warfare. Elected officials are widely viewed as self-serving and ineffective.[ii]

  • Members of Congress are widely seen as mixing financial interests with their work. About eight-in-ten Americans (81%) say members of Congress do a very or somewhat bad job of “keeping their personal financial interests separate from their work in Congress.”
  • Americans feel major donors have too much influence. Large majorities say big campaign donors (80%) and lobbyists and special interests (73%) have too much influence on decisions made by members of Congress.
  • Most say the cost of campaigns keeps good candidates from running. An overwhelming majority (85%) holds the view that “the cost of political campaigns makes it hard for good people to run for office.”

How do we address our shared sense of loss? The question is particularly difficult because behind any attempt to discuss policy or the assumptions behind policy are the deeply negative views of those on the other side of politics.  If we cannot accept the humanity and good intentions of those who differ from us on how we define or address the problem, then the hope of constructive conversation evaporates. This was my experience in the pre-election, where my questions and concerns were rejected as invalid or worse.

So, are we at an impasse? Will we simply devolve into another oligarchy, or endure a long decaying democratic death spiral? Where does faith play a role in all this? Faith has found expression, though not always helpful because – I speak to Christian voices in particular – we cannot agree on a starting point.

What is the appropriate starting point? Here, Jewish scholar and rabbi Shai Held offers an interesting perspective in his discussion of the role of lament. He begins with a conviction that I find shared by all parties of the Christian social engagement.

Side by side with gratitude lives protest, a deep and unabashed conviction that the world as it is is a very far cry from the world as it should be, and a demand that the gap between them begin to be closed.[iii] 

This conviction that the world and the US form of democracy are broken is the shared view. So, where does protest find its voice? The political protest we witnessed by Republicans and Democrats in this election cycle, each accusing the other of being the destroyers of democracy, is clearly ineffectual. Mutual accusation only feeds the fire of polarization.

What struck me in reading Held’s thoughts was that lament is a protest against the status quo. Using the events of the Exodus as a model, Held pointed out that the publicly processed pain of Israel’s suffering under Egyptian enslavement unleashed a new social imagination—declaring their situation to be intolerable and unsustainable planted the seeds of a different kind of society.

It seems we could agree to practice lament. Why start with lament rather than the more evangelical starting point of repentance? I am not sure we understand our role in our current situation. The mutual denigration engaged by the right about the left and vice versa suggests that we should start by expressing our fear, loss, and grief over the situation we find ourselves in. In lament, we can engage God in the unexpected ways God seems to show up historically. We can share lament and, in sharing lament, find the vulnerability and exposure before God we need to engage in repentance. Lament can plant the seeds of a different kind of faith community.

Held offers additional insight that seems pertinent to that part of the church I am most familiar. He writes:

If faith is about life – about real life, and not some spiritualized ideal thereof – then there has to be room for anguish. As long as life contains both joy and sadness, weal and woe, liturgy must continue both praise and lament. If all we are ever allowed to do is praise, then what do we do with our sorrows, our hurts, and our disappointments? If all we do with our pain is silence it, then we run the very real risk that our religion will depend on developing a “false self,” one that does not mean what it says and is afraid to say what it means. It’s vital that we grasp this point: being honest with God, even when life hurts, is not a rebellion against faith but a manifestation of it.[iv]

So, let’s be honest with God about our fears, our anxieties, our hurts. Let’s voice this lament and its inherent protest of the status quo together. Let’s see what God’s intervention looks like and be humble enough to accept the change deliverance invites us toward.

[i] Michael J. Sandel. (2022) Democracy’s Discontent: A New Edition for Our Perilous Times. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 10.

[ii] Source: https://www.pewresearch.org/politics/2023/09/19/americans-dismal-views-of-the-nations-politics; Accessed 12 Dec 2024.

[iii] Shai Held. (2024) Judaism is About Love: Recovering the Heart of Jewish Life. New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 50.

[iv] Held, 68.

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A Different Kind of Community

Janice and I recently heard a message that spoke to some of the issues believers face in being like Jesus in a context that has often confused cultural norms for being a disciple, and Christian nationalism for faithfulness. It was refreshing to hear this pastor cut through the noise with a call to something different. This will encourage you.