A Fatal Flaw

 

The decline of the American Church has been a source of concern and study for decades — well over half of my professional career. Think tanks such as the Barna group have studied and reported it. Leaders, consultants, scholars, and megachurch pastors have offered their thinking as to what is causing it. Having diagnosed the cause of the symptoms, they offer prescriptions—suggestions for how to address the problem and reverse the decline. Megachurches offer annual “how to” workshops—a registration fee is required, of course. Conferences and dioceses promote new programs built around their proposed solutions, dedicating new money for and hiring new staff to lead this “key to reversing the decline.” Consultants and coaches are readily available to help pastors and congregations—again, for a fee

In spite of all the study, thinking, emphasis, effort, and money, most congregations are still experiencing decline. Across the board, the institutional church in America continues to decline.

In my last blog, I suggested an underlying, unidentified cause for the decline is the unwillingness of congregations to change. Congregations are emotional-relational systems that inherently resist change. They are made up of individuals who inherently resist anything that disrupts the comfort of their status quo. That unwillingness to change sabotages any effort to address what is contributing to the decline.

In addition to this unwillingness to change, a fatal flaw exists at the core of the American Church. This flaw fuels the decline and guarantees the death of the American institutional church.

This fatal flaw is located in its theology. It resides in the kind of thinking that lies at the heart of its institutional life. This theology, this thinking is reinforced every time the congregation gathers—in worship, in Bible study, in committee meetings, in mission groups. It is the congregation’s lifeblood.

This theology appeals to the ego.

This theology emphasizes right belief, right behavior, and right worship. It fosters either/or, black-and-white, right-and-wrong thinking. Such thinking inevitably produces us-them distinctions. Those who do not embrace our thinking or mimic our behavior (ethics) or adhere to our way of worship are viewed as “other.” They are viewed with suspicion and fear. They are excluded as we surround ourselves with those like us. Segregation is our pattern of relating. (This pattern explains why there are so many different denominations as well as so many different “independent” and Bible churches.)

This way of thinking and functioning appeals to the ego. It reinforces the sense that “I’m right” and "You’re wrong.” It subtly allows us to feel “better than” and superior to those other people. We can reassure ourselves knowing we are right, that we are not like those other people.

I use the word “fatal” to describe this way of thinking and functioning for two fundamental reasons.

First, this way of thinking and functioning—living out of this theology— is based on sameness. We segregate ourselves from those who are not like us and who do not think like us. We surround ourselves with those who are like us and think like us. Such relationships are fragile. This sameness-orientation sets the stage for conflict. A difference of opinion about some issue is inevitable. Polarization around that difference of opinion and that issue then develops, often leading to division. Once a split takes place, we once again associate with those who think like us and segregate ourselves from those who don’t. Our like-us, sameness orientation sets the stage for yet another conflict in the future over yet another difference of opinion that will inevitably surface. This pattern is ultimately self-destructive. As Jesus said, “If a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand” (Mark 3:25). The impending division of The UMC is an example of this pattern. It is a pattern that has been played out in numerous other denominations, as well.

This sameness-orientation is ego driven. It is the way of the world. It leads to death.

A second and primary reason this ego-centered theology is fatal is it is not the way of Jesus and the kingdom.

Jesus’s pattern was self-emptying, not self exalting. “Although he was in the form of God, (he) did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on the cross” (Philippians 2:6-8). The Apostle Paul called his readers, as the followers of Jesus, to take on the mind of Christ, that is, this self-emptying pattern (Philippians 2:5). Living out of this self-emptying pattern is the opposite of ego-centric living.

Jesus himself taught that to be his follower was to die to the ego-centric self. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mark 8:34). To deny self is to die to the ego-centric self, the self the world told us we had to be if we wanted to be accepted and valued. The cross was the method of execution the Romans reserved for insurrectionists—those who challenged their authority and their way of life. To take up our cross is to choose to live out of step with the ego-driven ways of the world. It is to die to the ego-centric self the world told me to be. It is to tie my identity to Christ rather than to the standards the world uses to define success—power, achievement, wealth, possessions.

Jesus’s way is the way of the servant. “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:42-25). The way of the Gentiles, i.e., the way of the world, is an ego-driven way. It values power and position, status and standing, affluence and wealth. It fosters competition with others as we compare ourselves — our power and position, status and standing, affluence and wealth — to them. Being a servant is not possible until we die to the ego-centric way of the world and the ego-centric identity we created using its values. As long as we are concerned about our status and standing, our power and position, our affluence and resources, we cannot embrace the posture and position of a servant. As long as we live out of this ego-driven thinking, we cannot live out of a servant spirit.

A theology that appeals to and nurtures the ego is the opposite of the mind of Christ. As such, it cannot produce the transformation of heart and mind that are fundamental to being a disciple. It cannot produce a self-giving, servant spirit marked by humility. It can only duplicate the ways of the world, producing what the world produces —polarization, division, and self-destruction.

A theology that appeals to and nurtures the ego is the fatal flaw that will ultimately destroy the institutional church of America. Its poison is evident in the polarization, division, and decline that we are witnessing with our own eyes.

 

The Underlying Cause of Church Decline

 It is an alarming reality: the Church is dying! At least, that’s what some people say. But that fact is not true. The Church is not dying and will not die. What is true is the institutional church in America is dying. This expression of the Church is in decline — in numbers (membership, attendance) and in influence — and has been since the middle of the last century. The 1950’s were the heyday of the institutional church in the U.S. Since that time, the statistical records of every denomination and of most congregations reflect decline.

In every congregation I served in Methodist life, with one exception, two issues dominated the thinking of the leadership: (1) how to reverse the decline — that is, how to grow — and (2) how to stay afloat financially in the midst of the decline. Those same two issues dominated the thinking of the bishops, cabinet, and leadership of the Conference in which I was a member for nearly thirty years. A pastor’s effectiveness in the Conference was judged by one criterion: did the church grow numerically under his/her leadership.

The inescapable reality of decline leads to an obvious question: why? Why is the church dying? The assumption is if we can answer the question “why?”, then we can address the causes and reverse the decline.

Causes coupled with suggested remedies abound: a lack of hospitality — not knowing how to welcome the nonmember; a lack of passionate, uplifting worship that connects us with God; a lack of life-transforming discipleship; a lack of community-engaging, transformative mission; a lack of generosity as a way of life. (These five causes are identified in Robert Schnase’s Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations. The book has been used throughout The United Methodist Church in an effort to address the growing decline.)

Each of these five causes is a factor contributing to the decline that congregations are experiencing. In my mind, however, there is another factor — one that sabotages any effort to address any of these other five. This sabotaging factor has to do with purpose.

Most congregations do not function out of a clear, compelling sense of purpose that shapes their identity. Without a clearly stated, compelling sense of purpose, the unstated purpose that governs the congregation is the comfort and enjoyment of the members, i.e., tradition. This unstated purpose produces an unwillingness to change.

“We’ve never done it that way before” is the mantra of a dying church.

This unwillingness to change overrides our concern about the decline. We are concerned about the decline, afraid that we are dying. What we are currently doing has not reversed the decline. In fact, what we are currently doing — and have always done — contributes to the decline. Continuing to do what we are currently doing can only produce what it is now producing, which is decline. Clearly, if we want a different outcome, we have to do something different. We have to change.

Given the choice between changing and declining, most congregations unconsciously choose to continue the decline — while bemoaning it every step of the way.

These congregations are good at avoiding this underlying reality. They deceive themselves. They talk about wanting to grow while resisting the very things that are needed for growth to occur. They believe the solution is the right pastor — particularly a younger pastor who would attract younger people. This focus on “the right pastor” allows them to avoid looking at themselves, identifying what they are contributing to the decline, and making the necessary changes.  

The unwillingness to change is a (the?) underlying factor in the decline of the institutional church today.

Making Peace with Being Human

It is something we all deal with – this thing of being human. And it is something we cannot escape. We’re stuck with being human. We don’t have any other option. The only choice we have is in how we deal with our humanness.

Being human is a mixed bag.

Some parts of our humanness are amazing: the ability to think, to learn, to grow — the ability to choose and, thereby, partially shape our own destiny — the ability to plan, design, create, and produce — the capacity to experience and appreciate the beauty of creation in all its diversity — the amazing design of our physical bodies — the uniqueness of our individual personalities — the richness of living in meaningful relationship with another, knowing and being known — the joy of love and loving — the capacity to participate in the depths of the spiritual realm.

Certainly, we are more than just another animal. We are indeed created in the image of God. We have the capacity to live in relationship with God, participate in God’s quality of life, and possess God’s character of self-giving love as our own. God’s fingerprints are on every part of who we are. As the psalmist wrote, we are “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14).

Other parts of our humanness are not so wonderful.

Being human always involves being in process. We are never fully grown or mature. Some part of us will always be incomplete — not yet fully developed — immature. These still-in-process places in our lives are where our knowledge and abilities are not adequate. As a result, what we can do is not good enough. It doesn’t measure up. We can’t get it right. We fail — while others get it right and succeed!

Being human means living with limitations. We are not all powerful or all knowing, i.e., God. All of our energies — physical, emotional, intellectual, spiritual — are limited. We do not have an unlimited amount of love or patience or compassion or strength or energy or knowledge. These limitations translate into needs — physical needs, emotional needs, relational needs, spiritual needs. Life is an on-going process of getting our needs met. Even when our needs are met and we are satisfied, the sense of contentment is fleeting. The needs return and have to be addressed again.

Being human involves living in a world full of challenge. Life involves difficulty, struggle, and pain. When the challenges of life bump up against those still-in-process, not-yet-adequate places in our lives, we can feel overwhelmed.

Being human means having relationships that are less than what we want — relationships in which the other fails us and we fail them — relationships laced with conflict or with a lack of honesty (pretense) and emotional distance in an effort to avoid the conflict — relationships that cause us and others pain — relationships that fail — relationships that end, leaving us to live with grief.

How do we deal with these not-so-wonderful aspects of being human?

Most of us struggle with them. We frequently fight them. Some of us go so far as to hate them. Certainly, all of us have known the desire to escape them. We long for life free from struggle and pain — for life where our needs are met, we are content, and we live in peace — for relationships where we feel safe and loved. We long for the life we knew in the Garden before . . . well, before we knew what we know now . . . when we still lived with the innocence of young children before their innocence is lost. We long for Eden.

Beneath our struggle are feelings of guilt and shame compounded by the fear of condemnation and judgement. These feelings are the product of viewing the still-in-process, not-yet-adequate aspects of our lives through the lens of merit-based thinking.

How do we make peace with being human, particularly with these not-so-wonderful aspects of being human?

One would think the Church would help us answer these questions. Sadly, in my thinking, the Church has too often added to our struggle.

The Church has historically dealt with our humanness through the lens of sin. Theologians and church leaders of all stripes are quick to quote the Apostle Paul, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).

The Church’s obsession (can I use that word?) with sin reinforces our feelings of guilt and shame, the fear of condemnation and judgment. The condemnation of sin fuels our resolve to try harder, to do better, to get it right next time. Our resolve is genuine, but our ability to “do the good I want” (Romans 7:19) falls short. We inevitably fail . . . yet again. As Paul said, “I can will what is right, but I cannot do it” (Romans 7:18).

Repeated failure to “do the good I want” produces a variety of outcomes — none of them healthy or beneficial. Some of us get trapped in the life-depleting cycle of confession and repentance, resolve, trying harder to do better, failing yet again, leading back to confession and repentance that starts the cycle all over again. Some of us give up, resigning ourselves to the mediocrity of “as best I can.” Our spiritual lives become little more than involvement in the life of the institutional church. Others of us punish ourselves with self-condemnation, shame, self-hate, and depression. We live spiritually defeated lives devoid of joy and peace. Others of us go the opposite direction. We ignore sin. We don’t talk about sin. We avoid the concept. In our personal lives, this avoidance leads us to focus on the right things we do — beliefs, church involvement, moral living, etc. We avoid dealing with any sense of personal failure or wrongdoing. This avoidance of personal wrongdoing inevitably leads us to focus on what others do wrong — how they fail to measure up. We criticize and judge. We select someone or some group to be the target of our anger — a scapegoat. (Our anger at the scapegoat is the anger we feel towards ourselves but have disowned, pushing it down into the subconscious.) Our condemnation of the other feeds our sense of being better than them. We live with the certainty that we are “right” and okay just the way we are. We are blind to the condition of our heart.

The gospel Jesus entrusted to the Church helps us deal with our sin differently. It also helps us make peace with being human. When the Church proclaims the gospel rather than our sin, it helps us with our struggle with being human.

The heart of the good news is how God deals with our sin. God deals with our sin with grace and forgiveness. God does not react to our sin with condemnation or allow it to be a barrier in his relationship with us. God relates to us out of God’s character of steadfast, faithful love — a love that never wavers, a love that never gives up on us or abandons us. Living out of this steadfast, faithful love, God reaches out to us in our sin. Through the incarnation in Jesus and the indwelling presence of the Spirit, God walks alongside us, helping us deal with our sin and move beyond it.

God’s grace and forgiveness set us free from the fear of condemnation and judgment. It cleanses our hearts of guilt and shame. Trusting God’s grace and forgiveness, we can honestly face how we fail so we can learn from it. Our sin and failure become occasions for learning and growth as the Spirit leads us to recognize the deep-seated issues that give birth to the wrongdoing. The experience of sin and failure is redeemed. Transformation and cleansing take place on a deep level. As a result, we move beyond our sin.

The gospel also helps us make peace with being human.

Our sin does not lie in being human. We are human with all of its not-so-wonderful, still-in-process, not-yet-adequate aspects. In addition, we are sinful. The two, however, are not the same thing. The Church’s preoccupation with sin often leads us to confuse the two. Paul’s use of the term flesh — or rather, our interpretation of his term — also contributes to this misconception.

Our humanness is what it means to be human as described above. Our Sin (with a capital S) is a spiritual condition that controls our lives and impacts our relationship with God. Paul described this condition as being held “captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members (Romans 7:23). Sin (with a capital S) produces sins (lower s, plural). Sin is the disease; sins are the symptoms. Sin is the spiritual condition; sins are behavior produced by that condition. See again Paul’s description in Romans 7:14-25.

As long as we view our humanness as sinful, we cannot make peace with being human. We fight against our basic human nature. We learn to hate it rather than accepting it as normal. We never learn how to honor our humanness or live within its limitations. We get stuck in our struggle, never making progress with either our humanness or our sin nature.

The gospel teaches us to view our humanness through the lens of grace rather than the merit-based thinking that is our default. Grace allows us to embrace our still-in-process, not-yet-perfect nature without reverting back into guilt and shame or into fear of condemnation and judgment or into self-condemnation and self-hate. Grace teaches us to focus on learning and growing as we bump up against the still-in-process places of our lives. Grace allows us to embrace our failures as learning opportunities that teach us something we could not learn any other way. Grace teaches us to graciously receive what others have to give when dealing with our needs. Grace teaches us to live in glad dependency upon the Spirit in those times when we are inadequate and incapable of measuring up. Grace teaches us to accept our limitations, allowing us to practice good self-care. Grace teaches us to make peace with being human.

Only when we make peace with being human will we be able to live fully into who God created us to be.

Remember Your Baptism

All four gospels record the baptism of Jesus by John, identifying it as the beginning point of Jesus’s public ministry. But there was more to the event than just the starting line of his ministry.

Jesus’s baptism spoke to core issues we all face. Who am I (identity)? Why am I here (purpose)? How will I live out my calling? These questions drive our lives — consciously or unconsciously. Until we answer them, we live with a nebulous inner dis-ease which robs us of peace and blocks any sense of fulfillment. When we answer them, we live out of a deeply centered sense of self and purpose that functions like an internal guidance system directing us in the challenges of life.

In his baptism, Jesus had a vision and heard a voice. Both spoke to these core issues. They suggest Jesus had been consciously dealing with these issues.

The vision was of a dove — representing the Spirit — descending on him from heaven. In the Hebrew Scriptures, the Spirit was given to select individuals — prophets, kings, leaders — to empower them for the task to which they were called. The Spirit was poured out on Jesus to empower him for his ministry. The vision confirmed Jesus’ thinking about who he was: he was the Messiah — the Anointed One — the chosen one of God.

The voice was “from heaven,” Mark 1:11, meaning it was the voice of God. What God said to him also confirmed his identity as the messiah. It specifically confirmed his understanding of the messiah’s role, i.e., his purpose.  

What Jesus heard — “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased,” Mark 1:11 —was a combination of two different lines, each from a hymn found in the Hebrew Scriptures. The first line — “You are my Son, the Beloved” — was from Psalm 2, the coronation psalm. This psalm — sung at the coronation of the king — proclaimed the special relationship the king had with God. The king was God’s son. This line confirmed that Jesus was the Messiah, the messianic king. The second line — “with you I am well pleased” — was from Isaiah 42:1. That song is from one of four poems found in Isaiah 40-55 about the Servant of the Lord. In each poem, the servant experienced suffering, with his suffering increasing in each successive song — hence, the title the Suffering Servant. In the final song (Isaiah 52:13-53:12), the servant suffers and dies on behalf of the people.

The combination of these two lines — one about the Messiah, one about the Suffering Servant — reflects Jesus’s understanding of the messianic role. The Messiah — the son of God — was the Suffering Servant of the Lord, not a conquering Davidic king. Jesus was the first to put these two great figures together as one and the same.

In his baptism, Jesus experienced a vision and heard a voice that confirmed his identity as the Messiah and his purpose as the Servant of the Lord who suffers on behalf of the people of God. This self-understanding guided Jesus as he lived out his ministry.

His experience of baptism also addressed the third core issue: how will I live out my calling? The Spirit descended on Jesus to empower him to live out his calling. Jesus lived in conscious relationship with God, depending on God for the strength to do what he was called to do. We see this spirit of dependency in the Garden of Gethsemane just before his arrest that would lead to his death. As he wrestled with what he knew was coming, he turned to God in prayer. Withdrawing to pray was a pattern in his ministry (Luke 5:16).

Jesus’s sense of who he was (identity) came from God. His sense of calling and vocation (purpose) came from God. His strength to live out his calling came from God.

Our baptism offers us these same gifts. It proclaims who we are — our true identity — who God says we are. We are the beloved children of God, claimed by God’s grace in Christ Jesus, gifted and empowered by the Spirit to be a blessing in the world. It proclaims our purpose. Our baptism marks us as the followers of Jesus, called to live the ways of God he taught. And it proclaims the gift of the Spirit poured out on us to empower us to live the ways of the kingdom.

Jesus’s sense of identity, purpose, and power were rooted in God. His experience reminds us to look to God for our own sense of identity, purpose, and power.

A God-shaped sense of our identity, purpose, and power are vital to our lives. Otherwise, the world in which we grew up will tell us who we are and dictate what is expected of us. It ties our sense of identity to what we do (a role) and to what we accomplish (achievements) and to some group with which we associate. The world in which we grew up gave us messages about who we are that continue to play in our heads — flawed, not good enough, unlovable, less than, underserving. It told us what we had to do if we wanted to belong and be valued. We were accepted and valued if … when. And it demanded that we meet its expectations through self-effort and self-reliance. The world in which we grew up set us on a path of constant striving, of comparing and competing, of always pursuing more. The way it trained us to live is the source of that dis-ease we can’t quite put our finger on at the core of our being.

Every year at this time, the liturgical calendar revisits Jesus’s baptism. And on Baptism of the Lord Sunday, we are called to remember our baptism. To remember our baptism is to remember our true identity, our divine purpose, and the power that is ours through the Spirit. We are the beloved children of God, claimed by God’s grace, called to live as the followers of Jesus who live the ways of God he taught, gifted and empowered by the Spirit to be a blessing to the world. Remembering our baptism reconnects us with our core, God-given identity. It reminds us of our purpose and power. It reorients us and how we live.

Remember your baptism! And be grateful!

9th Day of Christmas, 2021 - The Message of the Magi Story

They are a part of every Christmas pageant even though — according to the Biblical narrative — they arrived in Bethlehem well after the birth of Jesus — maybe as much as two years after his birth (Matthew 2:16). Regardless of when they arrived, their story is a vital part of the Christmas story. It proclaims a message that lies at the heart of the Christmas (i.e., gospel) story.

The story of the magi is found in the Gospel of Matthew — the gospel written for a Jewish audience (Jewish Christians after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 C.E.) with a distinctively Jewish message. The gospel presents Jesus as the long-awaited Jewish messiah, the son of David (Matthew 1:1) … the fulfillment of the Mosaic Law (Matthew 5:17) … one who was greater than Moses … the one to whom all authority on heaven and earth has been given (Matthew 28:19) — which makes the story of the magi so unusual. It is a story about Gentiles — foreigners from a distant land.

While the story is about Gentiles, it is a distinctively Jewish story. It reflects a major theme in the promise of the messiah. The gospel writer included the story of the magi in his gospel because it reflected the fulfillment of that messianic expectation.

This particular messianic expectation was that the Gentiles would be drawn to the LORD. They would come, seeking to learn the ways of the LORD. As a result, all of the earth would be “full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea,” Isaiah 11:9. Forsaking their old ways of thinking and living, the peoples of the world would embrace the ways of God. The kingdom of God would come on earth as it is in heaven. This God-shaped world would be filled with shalom — peace and abundance. (This vision of what-will-be is a part of the final vision in Revelation. See Revelation 21:22-24; 22:5.)

This expectation is expressed clearly and repeatedly in the book of Isaiah.

·         I will give you as a light to the nations,

that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth Isaiah, 49:6.

·         On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples;

the nations shall inquire of him …

He will raise a signal for the nations, Isaiah 11:10, 12.

·         In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains,

and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. 

³Many peoples shall come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,

to the house of the God of Jacob;

that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.”

For out of Zion shall go forth instruction,

and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. 

⁴He shall judge between the nations,

and shall arbitrate for many peoples;

they shall beat their swords into plowshares,

and their spears into pruning hooks;

nation shall not lift up sword against nation,

neither shall they learn war any more, Isaiah 2:2-4 and Micah 4:1-4.

The inclusion of the Gentiles was a vital — yet commonly overlooked — part of the messianic expectations. The gospel writer used the story of the magi to foreshadow its fulfillment in the life and ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus.

This understanding was at the heart of Paul’s message and missionary work among the Gentiles. He called it a mystery, previously hidden but now revealed by the Spirit: “the Gentiles have become fellow heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel,” Ephesians 3:1-6. (Also see Ephesians 2:11-22 and 1 Peter 2:4-10.)

The story of the magi proclaims the heart of the gospel: “outsiders are included!” God’s love extends to and embraces everyone. The old us-them paradigm of the world has been exposed as false … set aside as life-depleting. “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus,” Galatians 3:28. In the kingdom, everyone belongs! Everyone is valued! Everyone has a place! All are welcome!

The Christmas story of the magi calls us to set aside our identity as “outsider” … “other” … “unlovable.” It invites us to stop living as an outsider to God’s love and grace. It calls us to accept God’s love for ourselves. It calls us to claim our place in God’s family. It calls us to embrace our identity as a beloved child of God.

But the story of the magi also calls us to move beyond the us-them, better than-less than thinking and relating that is an inherent part of our human condition. Peace on earth is not possible as along as we view those who are different from us through the lens of anxiety, fear, and scarcity. Viewing another as “other,” thinking we are better than them only contributes to the brokenness and alienation of our world. (Of course, we deny that we are better than another but our attitudes toward them refute our denial. The arrogance associated with thinking we are better than another is subtle, lying outside our conscious awareness. This kind of us-them, better than-less than thinking is an indication that we have not fully claimed our identity as a beloved child of God and don't yet know how to live out of that reality.) The story of the magi calls us again to embrace the ways of God that views and values, accepts and embraces every person as a beloved child of God … even when they don’t act like it. 

The magi represent all the peoples of the earth who make their way to Jerusalem, seeking to learn the ways of the LORD. May we be one of them!