The Christian Tradition of the Unconventional
One of the things I love most about Jesus, and there is much to draw from on this issue, is His approach to choice-making. Let’s be honest. Nearly every choice He made flew in the face of conventional wisdom – beginning with the decision to become human and thus take on our various disfigurements. The infinite, immortal and invisible God choosing to become one of us is akin to Bill Gates shedding all privilege, prestige and economic power, moving into a cardboard box in the slums of India in hopes to advance the cause of Microsoft – it makes no sense.
Choosing a mostly uneducated, rough and unimpressive group of working class men as the ambassadors of your newly launched international movement – makes no sense. Choosing to offend the powerful and empower the weak – makes no sense. Choosing to avoid the elite and yet invite the bum – makes no sense. Choosing to embrace the leper and confront the lawyer – makes no sense. Choosing your greatest persecutor as the leader of your missionary movement– makes no sense. At every turn he surprises us. At every turn he confounds us. At every turn he offends us.
This is partly why followers of Jesus, when we really are following Jesus, are called fools. When we launch something in the name of Jesus, not only should it look different from every other human initiative, it should naturally offend our innate sense of conventional wisdom and better judgment. His ways are clearly not ours.
When, for instance, in our modern day church, do we embrace HIV patients because they value both their falleness and ours? When do we make recovering alcoholics elders over our people because of their unique perspective on grace? How often do we establish former prostitutes or strippers as leaders over our women’s ministries because of their recovered capacity for true intimacy? When do we target for ministry the most offensive, beguiled and socially outcast and then ascribe to them the labels of light of the world and salt of the earth, much less invite them to our churches? Yet this is precisely what Jesus did. That is His tradition.
But then Jesus’ finest offense was the cross. When He elevated himself in utter humiliation for our sake, he confounds us. Yes, I know the cross is the emblem and banner of our movement. We cover it with carets of gold and wear it around our necks. But it was among the most despicable scenes in human history – and rarely as a principle is it imitated – not even in our circles. In its essence it is redemptive and beautiful. In its self-sacrificing essence it also offends our gross tendency toward self-absorption. In its meekness and gentle willingness to suffer it offends our instinctive need for self-preservation and self-defense.
This is why we should not seek to run our ministries or churches on proven business strategies or principles, or other worldly frames of reference. I don’t mean here that money should be managed inefficiently out from under professional accountability. And I don’t mean that ministries have nothing to learn from the business community. I only mean to suggest that the choices we make should be guided more by the unique frame of reference that directed Jesus’ choice-making. I don’t blame Christian businessmen for running their businesses on established workable theories of management. But I do warn them against establishing those principles as the appropriate philosophy of Christ’s church or mission. Frankly, the underpinnings of business and that of the church are not altogether the same.
More than anything else, the choice that Christ made which confounds me the most is this: His choice of me. Why? Why, after so many offenses, after so many failures, after so many painfully present personal flaws, would Christ choose me?
Of all the biblical figures I relate to the most, the leper seems most befitting. There are times when I would serve the public best by wearing a bell around my neck announcing my coming. Ring, ring…here comes a man who wounds…ring, ring…here comes a man with issues…ring, ring…here comes a man who offends…ring, ring…here comes a complicated man…ring, ring…here comes a dangerously difficult man…ring, ring…ring, ring…ring.
Or there are times when the tax collector in the tree is the better analogy. No, I’m not good with numbers like he is, but why in the crowd of so many, would Christ choose someone who has made a living on personal demands, manipulations and exploitations? Why would he come to our home? And dine at our table? And laugh at our jokes? And passionately love when the only thing we do well is imperfection.
Or maybe the former prostitute, Mary Magdalene is more analogous. I, like her, have reasons to be despised, reasons to be debunked, reasons to be defaced, reasons to be disgraced. And yet here He is, before me, receiving my tears, fears and twisted affections. Or maybe I’m like Paul, the chief of sinners. Or like Peter, the consummate foot in the mouth disciple. Or like Thomas, doubting. There are many other comparisons that could be made, and with them all there are 2 things we share in common – (1) our total depravity and (2) against all conventional wisdom, His choice. Against all conventional wisdom, He chose me and also the likes of me!
And so pray for me that in response I might follow in His tradition and make choices which are utterly unconventional. Pray for me that I too might be a fool. Pray that I might offend, as He did.
That’d be Jesus
Mo Leverett
November 7, 2006
Who from lofty sacred throne
Came as humble and alone
To the poor to give increase
To the slave to grant release?
Where to seek when all we crave
is an escort from the grave
Who gives life when death consumes
who gives rebirth in the tomb?
That’d be Jesus
Who has shared his holy seat
With the orphan from the street
Who has made deliverance free
And offers it eternally?
Who makes homeless sons a place
wounded children sacred space
Who puts rebels in a trance
Granting them their second chance?
That’d be Jesus
Who can satisfy the thirst
Of beggars then and make them first
Who can take the child recoiled
And give him bread that never spoils?
Who was here before the winds
and to broken souls attends
Who for pleasure does pursue
The likes of those like me and you?
That’d be Jesus!
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