Thoughts on What Love Looks Like? by Akele Parnell

I think Dr. Cornel West statement that “justice is what love looks like in public” is becoming a sort of manifesto for those who feel passionate about engaging in a sort of love for ones neighbor that acts on behalf of those in need. West has been quoted in places as diverse as TEDS Chapel, the movie Call and Response, and CNN. But, how do we know what love is? Theologians may continue to debate about what all love entails, yet, I think we have at least one clear and definitive statement as to what love looks like in public. In 1 John 3:11 we learn that, “By this we know love, that he (Christ) laid down his life for us.” It is at the cross of Christ that we find the clearest and most definitive statement of what love is and what it looks like in public. The event of Christ death for our sins is the clearest definition of what love is, and it is the lens through which we view all other deeds of love.

Yet, the writer does not end there, he goes on to conclude that as Christ “laid down his life for us, we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers.” I believe that all out-workings of love, compassion ministry, social justice, serving your community—being a neighbor to your neighbor, or whatever it is called in your context, flow from the transformative power of the cross of Christ. It is also my conviction that this has been the view of the Faithalive community from its inception. Further, this outworking, which shows radical love and compassion for ones neighbor, is one, if not the clearest sign we find in scripture that one is a follower of Jesus Christ, after the confession of faith in Christ. I could proof text this till I’m blue in the face to prove this point, but I think the concept is clear.

So how do we move from this definition of love, into actual acts of faith and love. This part is not always so simple, yet, we have somewhere to begin. We start, when in response to Christ death for us, we “lay down our lives for our brothers.” This will certainly take different forms in different situations but the underlying principle is always the same; we love because Christ first loved us. He poured out his life for us, and by the power of the Holy Spirit we are empowered to live as he lived and love as he loved. Moving from Christ love for us, evidenced and defined by his death on the cross, we proceed onto our love for others. From there into an engagement of issues we understand as related to social justice.

Unfortunately, the tendency for many is to bifurcate our expressions of love. It is my personal view, that the Bible does not allow us to bifurcate our concern for people’s souls and their physical bodies. We should understand the significance of each, however, to say that we care for the soul and show little to no concern for the body, would be to lie, and vice versa. A similar principle is communicated in 1 John 4:20 “for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen”—although this verse is not juxtaposing concern for ones eternal salvation with the physical body, it is describing a principle of lived love, in reaction to the “seen,” that is, the physical with the “unseen,” that is, the spiritual. Equally, we could mention that we should not “fear those who kill the body but can’t kill the soul”— although that verse is in the context of persecution and directed to the believer’s concern for his own life, not love for others—yet, the same principle applies. Nonetheless, it is my opinion that if a person does not care that a person who is going through hell, I find it difficult to believe they actually care whether or not the person is actually going to Hell. Often times, the lack of one is evidence of the absence of the other.

Many feel the balance between the spiritual and the physical may not always be kept in easy balance, to some extent this may be true, yet it may depend on the lessons you draw from history and how you understand history. My own personal view is that this view is more of a false dichotomy and the result of faulty, simplistic historicizing than the demonstration of a solid historical trend. Nonetheless, the fact that the conversation must be had, is evidence of some tension.

I am glad that we as a community can continue to be challenged, as we should be, to search the scriptures in order to be faithful to Christ and the Gospel. This is not always an easy task and it is often times uncomfortable, still, we must continue. Let us defend what is of first importance, as if all depended on it. At the same time, if we truly love that which is most important, all else will fall in line—or at least I like to think so. Yet, if it has not, we must humble ourselves, repent and go back to the message of the cross and pray that it would penetrate our hearts, not just our minds.

Race in the Heart of the Church by Heather Donald

“Empathy” and “integration” are the two words you’ll hear a thousand times if you’ve heard them once as a TEDS counseling student. I’d like to put both to use here.

This is, I believe the first time during Black History Month I’ve sat in a room where matters of race in America were engaged. In the last couple weeks I’ve had the privilege to hear folks speak on race and social justice and to talk with folks about race and social justice, and at this point, I feel the need to integrate.

The place I’d like to start is to ask us to observe where in passages like Isaiah 1 and 58, Matthew 25, James 1 and 2 the word “empathy” is found. Yeah, it’s not written there or anywhere else in Scripture, but I’d like to suggest it’s functionally used in Scripture just as prolifically as in counseling classes.

The common charge to the Church coming through these passages is to attend to, even advocate for the needs of those who are poor and oppressed. Discussions on race in America won’t run long before matters of poverty and oppression are raised, we’ll find across the board the people groups who have suffered the most oppression in this country (blacks and American Indians) are those who bear the greatest weight of the effects of poverty. That said, let’s integrate.

In a discussion this week on race in America a friend said she believes one can’t advocate for people one doesn’t love. Well, who of us would think we don’t love any person just because of race? Maybe we’re feeling like, “okay, passed that test”. Where I think we need to check ourselves is in the area of empathy.

Empathy is about putting yourself into another person’s shoes. When it comes to race and poverty and justice, you’re thinking about what it feels like to wear those boots with the bootstraps that you’re using to pull yourself up out of poverty, or you’re thinking about what it feels like to not have the money to buy the boots, or what it feels like to not be allowed into the boot store—maybe you’ve got to wait for boots to be handed out to you knowing you won’t be asked whether they fit…how’s that feel? How do you think about that?

Empathy is at the core of the heart we’re looking for behind our good deeds. Empathy is what we hear in God’s heart when He says in Matthew 12:20, “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out”—God gets where we’re at. If God’s heart is to bring His justice to the people of this world, and He wants to use us for that, our hearts for justice need to be hearts that draw near to people, close enough to get where they are at.

So, we can integrate social concern with Scripture, that seems to be a common point for discussion to revolve around. What’s next is integration in the Church. I’d like to suggest, with deep conviction, that the Church will not be a very useful tool for justice unless we get serious about empathy in matters of social concern. We need to seek out relationships that give us the opportunity to listen to where someone whose background is different is coming from. We need to be open to being challenged, offended, even unsure about what to do next. Americans, we have so much to be deeply proud of and thankful for, but we’re also feeling, living the effects, during Black History Month 2009, of atrocities we are slowly, too slowly gaining distance from.

Let’s listen, listen carefully, listen sacrificially to today’s stories as they’re being written into another chapter of history. We will hear through them God’s call to the Church today, echoing still from Isaiah, Matthew, James, a call to see, by God’s grace more justice written into this chapter than the one before. Let’s love our neighbors well enough to get where they’re at, and ask God for wisdom to see how love meets with justice, knowing this enables us to reflect the heart of our astoundingly merciful God alive in us.

“On Being Black at Trinity” by Damien Howard

Before Trinity:

Growing up in inner city Chicago, I could not go outside and play with the other neighborhood kids. I had to stay cooped up in a three-bedroom apartment, with six people, because my mom feared that I would get caught up in “mess.” Furthermore, my father was in and out of jail for twenty years, so my mother worked three jobs and was forced to be mom and dad. And yes, I heard gunshots and many police sirens late at night. I even had close friends die in gang warfare. Eventually, my mother moved me to the suburbs for equal access to the “American Dream.”

Due to space constraints, I am obliged to slide past the racism encountered in the suburbs, skip over commenting about the lust and drunkenness that I experienced in college (even as a “church boy”), press past the discomfort I felt all throughout college as the token representative of my race, and focus on the topic at hand.

At Trinity:

I admit I would not trade my TEDS experience for anything. Here at TEDS, I am truly learning how to be a scholar and I thank God immensely for it. The resources I have and continue to acquire, including academic tools and friendships, will be invaluable assets for the rest of my life. Relationships with Trinity staff persons have helped me persevere through academic, emotional, and spiritual “hard times.”

But more about these “hard times.” I sat in Hinkson Hall my first semester thinking, “Trinity is not the place for me.” I had just plowed through four years in a setting that I felt didn’t value me as a person, and I was starting to feel as if Trinity had a similar methodology (i.e. a “contextualized” education that only speaks to the “majority” group). Why did I feel like this? You read my story. Tell me, where in our curriculum are we unpacking how to minister to those hurting Damiens that don’t know daddy? Where is the theological and practical reflection for ministry in the “hood?” Even more frustrating, it seemed like when topics of interest emerged or when African American religious history was mentioned, the discussion was rushed and disturbingly short-lived. I have found and find myself thinking, “what about the pious African American Christian men and women who relied on faith to endure chattel slavery? Is their history less significant than the Edwards and Wesleys of American Religious History? Why don’t the speakers and the worship music in chapel reflect the diversity of the student body?”

With time, I became more equipped to wrestle with these difficulties. The open ears and loving gestures of my FaithAlive and BLT (Black and Latinos @ Trinity) family continue to be a tremendous blessing for me. However, I regret the fact that I know brothers and sisters, here on this campus, who have gone as far as to admit, “Trinity is spiritually depleting.” When I hear such things, my immediate impulse is that something has to change. Though I have been able to create a tight bond with people from all walks of life, here at Trinity I am often reminded, as Cornel West so poignantly articulates, “Race Matters.”

This is my Trinity experience (as an African American male), and often times, I walk around campus thinking about this. “How can we initiate changes to the curriculum, improvements in staffing, and transformation of chapel to better reflect the global church and the diversity represented on campus?” Maybe Trinity’s goal is to primarily minister to the majority population. That may be the case, but my fear is that we will leave campus with a lot of smarts but be totally ignorant to what’s really going on outside of the 2065 Half Day enclave.

The Future:

I pray that our “Beloved Community” will be spurred on to strategically initiate and continually engage in an efficacious change process. I envision Trinity as a true reflection of the diversity celestially celebrated at Pentecost and that will be eschatalogically represented in the “New Jerusalem.” I am excited about our future!