Sensational Headline: "Was Jesus really Married?"
Reality Underwriting Sensational Headline: A fragment of a document was discovered that dates to the 2nd-4th century and reports Jesus referring to His wife. (Click here for the story)
Dr. Karen King, a professor at Harvard Divinity School, recently released a report that the aforementioned document references Jesus' wife and her status in the Church. This wife is assumed to be Mary by those who believe that Christ was married.
A few things:
1) This document is at least two hundred years younger than any New Testament document (despite King's claim that the document is later 2nd century). Even if it is 2nd century, that dates later than the New Testament by at lest 80-90 years. Considering the timeframe of the earliest-latest writings in the NT is about a century, those years are significant. By the time this was written, theologians were already talking about the four canonical Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John).
2) This document lends itself to Gnosticism, an ancient religion which used Christianity as a foundation, but was heartily and widely rejected as contrary to the Gospel.
3) This document is terribly, terribly incomplete. The "wife" statement in it is an incomplete sentence. We actually can't pull any meaning out of the fragment.
4) And here's the big one... Christians, chill out. Please.
Church, we do not need to be governed by fear. It does us no good to attack the character of Dr. King, especially since she was contacted to translate this fragment by someone else. And I have seen enough attacks online regarding Dr. King and her research to know that we as the Church really need to chill out.
Church, we do not need to be governed by fear. We should be the first to embrace the translating of this ancient text. It gives us context to the rich tapestry of spirituality in the ancient world, and helps us understand the context of the Church's teaching. We also live in a rich tapestry of spirituality in the 21st century, and we are called to grapple with the teachings around us. It's bad enough that we (Christians) are considered anti-knowledge and anti-learning by the rest of the world. We do not need to make it worse by actually rejecting centuries-old documents as a modern liberal plot to destabilize evangelical Christianity.
Church, we can be governed by hope. I am so glad this document was released. It opens the conversation on our history, on the importance of understanding and appreciating our past, on the relationship of sexuality and gender to spirituality and other crucial topics. However, as long as we are governed by fear, there will continue to be an us-them/ally-enemy spirit in our assemblies. Developmental psychologists tell us that us-them thinking is critical to adolescence, but is meant to become nuanced in adulthood. Thus, I must request that we grow up. Let's talk, and more importantly, let's listen. Let's let the facts come out before we make judgments. Let's appreciatively hear what people are devoting their lives to, and then speak the truth in love in the midst of it all. The acts of lowering our reactivity and listening before speaking, both Biblical claims on our discipleship, may just grant us Gospel opportunities. Grace and peace be with you all.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
I Really Shouldn't Say Anything...
Some days it is hard to wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, and not say "Hypocrite." Seriously. Monday mornings are the worst.
You see, I'm a pastor. People pay me money to stand in front of them and tell the old, old story what it means to be a community of followers of Christ. Often, this means painting pictures of areas in which change or transformation is required. Let's face it- following Christ is not terribly simple. And so, week after week (and fill in the multiple conversations I have weekly on the same topic) I do this thing.
So where does the "hypocrite" come in? I give impassioned sermons on the importance of doing justice, loving mercy and walking humbly with God. Meanwhile, I participate (knowingly) in systems which perpetuate injustice, I prefer grudges to mercy and have been known to pass up time with God because the newest episode of Hell on Wheels is on Netflix.
It is too common in which I work on a sermon, and in the midst of working on it, I find out that I may be the person who needs the sermon the most. Frankly, this feeling gets old. I plan on being a pastor for a long, long time. I have a lot of sermons, and a lot of Monday mornings where I will see myself in the mirror, to go.
So what do I do? Should I stop saying things unless I have personally mastered them? Maybe, but my sermons would be limited to the freeing power of sarcasm and understanding the power of your voice. Good stuff, but not quite the full counsel of God.
Do I try to drop the title of hypocrite? I could. After all, I am pretty hard on myself. Maybe my standards are just too high. Maybe I bring them down and just accept that I am who I am. I've been there. It feels good... until I recognize that my low standards help me sleep at night but they feel empty.
Perhaps I need a third option. I'm not going to stop telling the ancient tale of a follower of Christ. I'm not going to stop painting a picture in which I am not currently living. I will probably continue to preach to myself for the rest of my career. And what I will do is be honest. I will tell the story of being a follower of Christ and wrestle alongside you to live into that day by day. I will rejoice with you when I choose justice over apathy, mercy over bitterness and humility over pride. And I will rejoice with you when you do the same.
I acknowledge that I am a hypocrite, but at least I am one in recovery... just like all of us. So what do you say, shall we wrestle together?
You see, I'm a pastor. People pay me money to stand in front of them and tell the old, old story what it means to be a community of followers of Christ. Often, this means painting pictures of areas in which change or transformation is required. Let's face it- following Christ is not terribly simple. And so, week after week (and fill in the multiple conversations I have weekly on the same topic) I do this thing.
So where does the "hypocrite" come in? I give impassioned sermons on the importance of doing justice, loving mercy and walking humbly with God. Meanwhile, I participate (knowingly) in systems which perpetuate injustice, I prefer grudges to mercy and have been known to pass up time with God because the newest episode of Hell on Wheels is on Netflix.
It is too common in which I work on a sermon, and in the midst of working on it, I find out that I may be the person who needs the sermon the most. Frankly, this feeling gets old. I plan on being a pastor for a long, long time. I have a lot of sermons, and a lot of Monday mornings where I will see myself in the mirror, to go.
So what do I do? Should I stop saying things unless I have personally mastered them? Maybe, but my sermons would be limited to the freeing power of sarcasm and understanding the power of your voice. Good stuff, but not quite the full counsel of God.
Do I try to drop the title of hypocrite? I could. After all, I am pretty hard on myself. Maybe my standards are just too high. Maybe I bring them down and just accept that I am who I am. I've been there. It feels good... until I recognize that my low standards help me sleep at night but they feel empty.
Perhaps I need a third option. I'm not going to stop telling the ancient tale of a follower of Christ. I'm not going to stop painting a picture in which I am not currently living. I will probably continue to preach to myself for the rest of my career. And what I will do is be honest. I will tell the story of being a follower of Christ and wrestle alongside you to live into that day by day. I will rejoice with you when I choose justice over apathy, mercy over bitterness and humility over pride. And I will rejoice with you when you do the same.
I acknowledge that I am a hypocrite, but at least I am one in recovery... just like all of us. So what do you say, shall we wrestle together?
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Lost in Translation
For one semester in college, my uninterrupted journey from high school to pastoring faced its first interruption. I was wooed by the romantic world of Bible translation. I was enthralled by the idea of going to faraway places and helping to deliver God's Word to them, particularly in languages that no one else knew. One group, a tribe in Northern Africa, only had 1500 people speaking their language. But that was 1500 people without the Bible, without the Gospel.
I also love languages. I love how they work. I love how they teach us about how human beings think and how societies are structured. Language and culture are two sides of the same coin, and the more we understand language, the more we understand a culture. I wanted to become a translator.
As I write this, I am not translating the Bible in a far off area. I am sitting in Northern MI in a pastor's office. But I still think I am a Bible translator.
We are all translators in one way or another. I am amazed at how quickly people translate words into full-blown concepts, irrationally holding onto the idea that one word has one meaning.
For example, I just read a great article by Tim Keller on Biblical justice. Some of the first comments were not about the article, but about how America is turning into a "welfare state" (government assistance was never mentioned in the article). Justice, it seems, translated to a particular government program. I wish someone told that to Amos before he promised that justice would come like a flowing stream.
Mis-translation shuts down conversation. It has the ability to keep people from truly communicating. Narrow translation creates an environment where I can dismiss you and figure out what you're going to say before you say it. And if you say the same thing I do, but a little bit differently, I have the power to still declare you ignorant and wrong.
Where mis-translation is one of the great sins of our society, proper translation is one of the greatest blessings. Proper translation is a hallmark of good listening. Proper translation is when I hear someone speak, and instead of putting it through all my fancy filters of "right and wrong," I simply let their idea hit the table so that we can all play with it. And I can summarize what you say without adding my own agree/disagree to it.
The capacity to listen and translate well, in my opinion, is one of the highest marks of spiritual maturity. I wonder what the impact would be if a few people in your church, your neighborhood or your town were able to listen well. I wonder what the world would look like if we had a few less commentators and a few more translators. Maybe it would look a little more like the Kingdom of God.
I also love languages. I love how they work. I love how they teach us about how human beings think and how societies are structured. Language and culture are two sides of the same coin, and the more we understand language, the more we understand a culture. I wanted to become a translator.
As I write this, I am not translating the Bible in a far off area. I am sitting in Northern MI in a pastor's office. But I still think I am a Bible translator.
We are all translators in one way or another. I am amazed at how quickly people translate words into full-blown concepts, irrationally holding onto the idea that one word has one meaning.
For example, I just read a great article by Tim Keller on Biblical justice. Some of the first comments were not about the article, but about how America is turning into a "welfare state" (government assistance was never mentioned in the article). Justice, it seems, translated to a particular government program. I wish someone told that to Amos before he promised that justice would come like a flowing stream.
Mis-translation shuts down conversation. It has the ability to keep people from truly communicating. Narrow translation creates an environment where I can dismiss you and figure out what you're going to say before you say it. And if you say the same thing I do, but a little bit differently, I have the power to still declare you ignorant and wrong.
Where mis-translation is one of the great sins of our society, proper translation is one of the greatest blessings. Proper translation is a hallmark of good listening. Proper translation is when I hear someone speak, and instead of putting it through all my fancy filters of "right and wrong," I simply let their idea hit the table so that we can all play with it. And I can summarize what you say without adding my own agree/disagree to it.
The capacity to listen and translate well, in my opinion, is one of the highest marks of spiritual maturity. I wonder what the impact would be if a few people in your church, your neighborhood or your town were able to listen well. I wonder what the world would look like if we had a few less commentators and a few more translators. Maybe it would look a little more like the Kingdom of God.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Will this end in bitterness?
Bitterness- what a word that evokes such despair! Bitterness is the deep hole dug by resentment and rage. Bitterness is the paralysis that comes when melancholy overcomes our energy to fight on. Bitterness makes me reactive, it shortens my fuse and makes me ready to fight.
In 2 Samuel 2, the followers of Saul and the followers of David meet for a fight. After the first group stab each other to death, the followers all jump into the fray. Asahel, a particularly fast runner, chases down Saul's former general Abner, who tries to ward off the young warrior. When it is clear that Asahel will not stop, Abner tries to stop him by thrusting the blunt end of his spear into Asahel's stomach. This attack should have left Asahel reeling but very well alive. However, Asahel is moving too fast and Abner is too strong. The spear kills Asahel. Many have already died, but Asahel's death sets David's followers off. They chase down Abner, who begs for mercy "Must the sword devour forever? Don’t you realize that this will end in bitterness? How long before you order your men to stop pursuing their fellow Israelites?"
Joab, David's general, gets his wits about him and orders an end to the battle. The deal is settled... or is it? Abner eventually leaves Saul's family and joins David. David gives him amnesty and declares his past sin's forgiven. But David wasn't there when Asahel died. Joab was, and stabs Abner in the belly. The sword continues to devour. Bitterness is the end.
What is frightening about this passage is just how real it is. You can picture the screenplay of this story, and can understand the rage and anger.
What is more frightening about this passage is that God is hardly mentioned. As long as God is absent, the bitterness continues and becomes murderous. It is no surprise that Jesus tells the crowd at the Sermon on the Mount that bitter anger is related to murder- unchecked rage becomes bitterness, and bitterness makes us violent (if not physically, certainly verbally).
I pray for healing to my bitterness, that God's grace will wash away my bitterness and enable me to be free from it.
In 2 Samuel 2, the followers of Saul and the followers of David meet for a fight. After the first group stab each other to death, the followers all jump into the fray. Asahel, a particularly fast runner, chases down Saul's former general Abner, who tries to ward off the young warrior. When it is clear that Asahel will not stop, Abner tries to stop him by thrusting the blunt end of his spear into Asahel's stomach. This attack should have left Asahel reeling but very well alive. However, Asahel is moving too fast and Abner is too strong. The spear kills Asahel. Many have already died, but Asahel's death sets David's followers off. They chase down Abner, who begs for mercy "Must the sword devour forever? Don’t you realize that this will end in bitterness? How long before you order your men to stop pursuing their fellow Israelites?"
Joab, David's general, gets his wits about him and orders an end to the battle. The deal is settled... or is it? Abner eventually leaves Saul's family and joins David. David gives him amnesty and declares his past sin's forgiven. But David wasn't there when Asahel died. Joab was, and stabs Abner in the belly. The sword continues to devour. Bitterness is the end.
What is frightening about this passage is just how real it is. You can picture the screenplay of this story, and can understand the rage and anger.
What is more frightening about this passage is that God is hardly mentioned. As long as God is absent, the bitterness continues and becomes murderous. It is no surprise that Jesus tells the crowd at the Sermon on the Mount that bitter anger is related to murder- unchecked rage becomes bitterness, and bitterness makes us violent (if not physically, certainly verbally).
I pray for healing to my bitterness, that God's grace will wash away my bitterness and enable me to be free from it.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Up at Night
I love asking good questions. I love questions that provoke the truth, questions which leave the Holy Spirit plenty of room to bring some level of insight. One question came from a pastor friend of mine... "What keeps you up at night?"
What a great question! And I yearn to ask that question to people. That question says so much about what we value, where our broken edges rub raw our tender souls and where lies confront reality with our minds as the battleground. What keeps you up at night?
Then someone asked me that question. And I had a pretty sweet response cooked up, derived from Alan Hirsch's "Faith of Leap." I was going to say "The fact that Christ gave us a mission 2000 years ago and we are far from completing it," or "We are supposed to care for the orphan and widow, and both groups are still yearning."
But none of those things keep me awake at night. I sleep quite comfortably most nights, actually. And so I didn't give my ideal answer... because it wasn't true. That might be what ought to keep me up, what I want to keep me up, but it isn't what keeps me up at night.
What keeps me awake at night are details that are out of my control. I get so worried about how people will respond to stuff that isn't even my responsibility. I get worried that to be known precludes being loved. I worry that my past actions will erase a Godly future. In other words, I stay awake at night because of me.
Psalm 6 gives us a glimpse of David in an "up at night" moment: "I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow; they fail because of all my foes."
Psalm 6 is a cry for deliverance from enemies, as well as a cry for forgiveness. It opens with David dealing with his own brokenness, then realizing that there is a very true danger out there (once he gets his "baggage" out of the way).
When I think about it, I want to be up at night. I want a pillow soaked with tears and a heart that yearns for shalom where there only seems to be disorder. What I don't want is to have my heart so burdened with imaginary fears and unchecked anxiety that I can't think about Christ's mission of reconciliation to the world.
What does this mean? As for me, it means that I want my prayer life to be an arena for my absurdities, my guilt and my shame to go toe-to-toe with the cross of Jesus, where they will be handily defeated. From there, God and I can get down to business and talk about a suffering world that needs hope. I don't know, that might keep me up all night.
What keeps you up at night?
What a great question! And I yearn to ask that question to people. That question says so much about what we value, where our broken edges rub raw our tender souls and where lies confront reality with our minds as the battleground. What keeps you up at night?
Then someone asked me that question. And I had a pretty sweet response cooked up, derived from Alan Hirsch's "Faith of Leap." I was going to say "The fact that Christ gave us a mission 2000 years ago and we are far from completing it," or "We are supposed to care for the orphan and widow, and both groups are still yearning."
But none of those things keep me awake at night. I sleep quite comfortably most nights, actually. And so I didn't give my ideal answer... because it wasn't true. That might be what ought to keep me up, what I want to keep me up, but it isn't what keeps me up at night.
What keeps me awake at night are details that are out of my control. I get so worried about how people will respond to stuff that isn't even my responsibility. I get worried that to be known precludes being loved. I worry that my past actions will erase a Godly future. In other words, I stay awake at night because of me.
Psalm 6 gives us a glimpse of David in an "up at night" moment: "I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow; they fail because of all my foes."
Psalm 6 is a cry for deliverance from enemies, as well as a cry for forgiveness. It opens with David dealing with his own brokenness, then realizing that there is a very true danger out there (once he gets his "baggage" out of the way).
When I think about it, I want to be up at night. I want a pillow soaked with tears and a heart that yearns for shalom where there only seems to be disorder. What I don't want is to have my heart so burdened with imaginary fears and unchecked anxiety that I can't think about Christ's mission of reconciliation to the world.
What does this mean? As for me, it means that I want my prayer life to be an arena for my absurdities, my guilt and my shame to go toe-to-toe with the cross of Jesus, where they will be handily defeated. From there, God and I can get down to business and talk about a suffering world that needs hope. I don't know, that might keep me up all night.
What keeps you up at night?
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Who Wrote the Rules?
Does anyone else have outrage fatigue? I'm honestly tired of being upset. It's hard to get my outrage meter above empty nowadays. Every day seems to bring its own outrage. The outrage de jour is Chick-fil-A. If you are for LGBTQ rights, then you are supposed to be outraged at Chick-fil-A. If you aren't, then you are supposed to be outraged at people who are outraged at Chick-fil-A. Or maybe you want to go back to Aurora, CO, where the gun control debate fired up on all cylinders before the victims of the shooting were even buried. The rush to judgment was faster than Missy Franklin's record-breaking swim at the Olympic Games this year. And so... I have outrage fatigue. Which is too bad, really.
There is much more to be outraged at. I continue to bump up against the reality of hurting and suffering people. Friends of mine are bearing the weight of incredibly hard circumstances. Other friends of mine struggle to find meaning in a world that increasingly denies meaning. Yet other friends of mine woke up this morning to find that their bodies have deteriorated, their memories have dulled, and their homes will see only loneliness today.
Somewhere, a friend of mine is going to be made fun of, in particulars or generalities, because of his sexual orientation. Somewhere, someone is going to laugh off people of my generation because "we don't care." Somewhere, someone in my generation is going to blow off the wisdom of an elder because "they are irrelevant." Somewhere a friend of mine is going to curse his failing body because it keeps him from feeling productive in a society that demands men to be productive and busy until the moment they die. Somewhere a friend of mine is going to stare at a wedding ring that doesn't hold the same delight it once did, wondering where it all went wrong.
If I have learned anything in my short ministerial career (and I have... lots, in fact), it's that the struggle for God's justice on earth will not be won by my irritation at the news. It won't be won with me posting articles or even this blog post. It will be won when I set the laptop down and sit before the Lord in prayer. It will be won when I tell my neighbor that "gay" is not a synonym for "unfortunate." It will be won when my outrage fuels my compassion.
Outrage is a powerful force. Powerful enough to pick up a cross, powerful enough to stand in the gaps, powerful enough to spark a holy fire to seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.
There is much more to be outraged at. I continue to bump up against the reality of hurting and suffering people. Friends of mine are bearing the weight of incredibly hard circumstances. Other friends of mine struggle to find meaning in a world that increasingly denies meaning. Yet other friends of mine woke up this morning to find that their bodies have deteriorated, their memories have dulled, and their homes will see only loneliness today.
Somewhere, a friend of mine is going to be made fun of, in particulars or generalities, because of his sexual orientation. Somewhere, someone is going to laugh off people of my generation because "we don't care." Somewhere, someone in my generation is going to blow off the wisdom of an elder because "they are irrelevant." Somewhere a friend of mine is going to curse his failing body because it keeps him from feeling productive in a society that demands men to be productive and busy until the moment they die. Somewhere a friend of mine is going to stare at a wedding ring that doesn't hold the same delight it once did, wondering where it all went wrong.
If I have learned anything in my short ministerial career (and I have... lots, in fact), it's that the struggle for God's justice on earth will not be won by my irritation at the news. It won't be won with me posting articles or even this blog post. It will be won when I set the laptop down and sit before the Lord in prayer. It will be won when I tell my neighbor that "gay" is not a synonym for "unfortunate." It will be won when my outrage fuels my compassion.
Outrage is a powerful force. Powerful enough to pick up a cross, powerful enough to stand in the gaps, powerful enough to spark a holy fire to seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.
Friday, July 27, 2012
It's a Conspiracy!
I have a confession to make. I love conspiracy theories. I believe very few of them, but I love a good conspiracy. And in times of war, economic distress and social disorder, conspiracy theories are easy to come by. In many ways, I envy conspiracy theorists. If anything, conspiracy theories make everything make sense. There are a handful of villains controlling everything, and it is their involvement in world affairs that have led us to this point. And I love to read them, watch movies about them, even check out the History Channel specials about them. It just seems so simple!
It does not surprise me that religious folks can be sucked into conspiratorial thinking. Consider the power of the Left Behind series to take conspiracy theories and attribute them to Satan or antichrist (including RFID chips and the like). Conspiratorial thinking requires us to believe in unseen power and to believe that there is an agenda going on. Theology proper requires us to believe in unseen power and to believe that God has an agenda going on. This is why the prophecies of the Old Testament and Revelation become fodder for modern-day conspiracy theorists.
If there is one thing that conspiracy theorists get right is that they generally understand the nature of power. They understand that human beings seek power over others (a condition leading back to Genesis 3), and that power is a corrupting force. Very few conspiracy theories believe that "they" (the people really in power) are benevolent. The psalms even decry this reality- "Why do the nations conspire and the peoples plot in vain?" (Psalm 2:1). Psalm 2 was even appropriated by the Church to describe the adversarial relationship the disciples had with the religious leadership of the day (Acts 4:23-30).
The power of a conspiracy theory is simple- it causes fear. Conspiracy theories cause us to be afraid of the secret few running the world, the growth in power, the devil using democracy or whatever the theory is based on. And people's decisions can be easily managed by fear- our culture's response to fear is usually to buy distracting things.
But Isaiah 8 speaks into our tough reality with some warning words: "Do not call conspiracy everything this people calls a conspiracy; do not fear what they fear, and do not dread it" (Isaiah 8:12). Okay, so don't be afraid. Why not? Isaiah continues, "The LORD Almighty is the one you are to regard as holy, he is the one you are to fear, he is the one you are to dread" (Isaiah 8:13). I don't think that this means we should walk around looking up to heaven, scared of the day God will strike us down. I think that this means that God is the One who is ultimately in control. Jesus is Lord, ultimately, and it is Christ on the throne. The power that is guiding the world toward shalom (peace) is a benevolent one indeed, and one who subverts our human attempts at power and shows a different way- a way of service, of love, of compassion. It is no surprise that power structures have typically resisted the Kingdom of God- it operates differently. And so may we operate differently in our lives and resist fear.
It does not surprise me that religious folks can be sucked into conspiratorial thinking. Consider the power of the Left Behind series to take conspiracy theories and attribute them to Satan or antichrist (including RFID chips and the like). Conspiratorial thinking requires us to believe in unseen power and to believe that there is an agenda going on. Theology proper requires us to believe in unseen power and to believe that God has an agenda going on. This is why the prophecies of the Old Testament and Revelation become fodder for modern-day conspiracy theorists.
If there is one thing that conspiracy theorists get right is that they generally understand the nature of power. They understand that human beings seek power over others (a condition leading back to Genesis 3), and that power is a corrupting force. Very few conspiracy theories believe that "they" (the people really in power) are benevolent. The psalms even decry this reality- "Why do the nations conspire and the peoples plot in vain?" (Psalm 2:1). Psalm 2 was even appropriated by the Church to describe the adversarial relationship the disciples had with the religious leadership of the day (Acts 4:23-30).
The power of a conspiracy theory is simple- it causes fear. Conspiracy theories cause us to be afraid of the secret few running the world, the growth in power, the devil using democracy or whatever the theory is based on. And people's decisions can be easily managed by fear- our culture's response to fear is usually to buy distracting things.
But Isaiah 8 speaks into our tough reality with some warning words: "Do not call conspiracy everything this people calls a conspiracy; do not fear what they fear, and do not dread it" (Isaiah 8:12). Okay, so don't be afraid. Why not? Isaiah continues, "The LORD Almighty is the one you are to regard as holy, he is the one you are to fear, he is the one you are to dread" (Isaiah 8:13). I don't think that this means we should walk around looking up to heaven, scared of the day God will strike us down. I think that this means that God is the One who is ultimately in control. Jesus is Lord, ultimately, and it is Christ on the throne. The power that is guiding the world toward shalom (peace) is a benevolent one indeed, and one who subverts our human attempts at power and shows a different way- a way of service, of love, of compassion. It is no surprise that power structures have typically resisted the Kingdom of God- it operates differently. And so may we operate differently in our lives and resist fear.
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