The episode is a beautiful incarnation story and has repeatedly popped into my mind as I reflect on the current Occupy Wall Street protests (yes, this is the way my mind works). There is no precise correlation, but I couldn’t help but notice similarities. In our isolated attempts at living the American dream according to the rules the system imposed upon us we know there are problems, but there is a tendency to assume that some authority will somehow eventually fix our problem for us. So we wait patiently, abiding by the rules, taking comfort in our sweet but impotent religious rituals, dying slowly as we come to mistake the rat-race for reality. A few of us might get ahead, moved to the fast lane so to speak, which we take as a sign of hope that the system is working and that one day we might actually arrive. We might talk about freedom, and love, and justice, and mercy as if they are some ideal we can strive towards – a better world we can hope to someday arrive at – but they aren’t reflected in the shape of our everyday lives. That is consumed with inching forward in our individual existence.

So when something like Occupy Wall Street comes along it challenges the status quo. And if our hope is in the fulfillment of the status quo, a challenge to that makes us fearful. What if we lose our place? What if all the time we have spent was wasted? Shouldn’t we just wait for the people in charge to figure it all out and get us all running smoothly again? What is scary to some about the Occupy movement is that instead of giving comfort in the moment or hope in the continued status quo, it is calling for liberation. Perhaps that is not the message of every voice or even of the details, but the collective message is one calling people out to a different way. It is a message that the system is broken, we are hopelessly stuck, and we need to find a way out.

There might not be a TARDIS to incarnate the Doctor into our particular moment, but for the sake of liberation perhaps we are the one we have been waiting for. Liberation is the result of the event of love. Not a vague hope in the idea of love, but the event of love entering into and utterly transforming the tragedy of the status quo. As Jurgen Moltmann wrote about this love,

It is not the interpretation of love as an ideal, a heavenly power or as a commandment, but of love as an event in a loveless, legalistic world: the event of an unconditioned and boundless love which comes to meet man, which takes hold of those who are unloved and forsaken, unrighteous or outside the law, and gives them a new identity, liberates them from the norms of social identifications and from the guardians of social norms and idolatrous images. … [But] Just as the unconditional love of Jesus for the rejected made the Pharisees his enemies and brought him to the cross, so unconditional love also means enmity and persecution in a world in which the life of man is made dependent on particular social norms, conditions and achievements. A love which takes precedence and robs these conditions of their force is folly and scandal in this world.”

The impulse toward freedom, toward liberation, is slowly awakening across the nation. The doors have been thrown open; we now have to choose if we will drive out into the light. The protests are, of course, not perfect. There are the dangers of creating new constraining status quos, of corruption, or simply the re-iteration of the same status quos with new faces at the helm. These are the typical demons that prey upon those embracing the event of liberating love – demons that the guardians of the current status quo are sure to parade about in attempts to scare the timid away from joining the movement towards freedom. But love always involves risk. Freedom from the conditions and gridlock of this world is always tied to the ongoing event of love. Love – that unconditional event that liberates for the shalom of the whole – is not an ideal but that ongoing way of life. It takes work to live into a new identity – to figure out how to live differently. The call to occupy isn’t for a quick fix (which I sincerely hope it doesn’t settle for), but it is instead the call to usher in an entire new way of being that requires us all to drastically change as we enter into the difficult work of liberating love – despite obstacles, despite opposition.

It’s hard to speak of a different way in our world today. Perhaps all I’m doing is just reflecting on a good story here. But maybe it’s a parable, or better yet, a dream. And the world is waking up and sometimes dreams do come true.

We are creatures shaped by our world. Our culture, our community, our environment, our faith all have contributed to hewing out our present form. We can always grow and learn, interrogating our culture as we expand and diversify the influences in our lives, but we can never undo the fact that we have been shaped. Whether or not we accept or reject a God, or gods, or spiritual force that choice becomes a part of us. To pretend otherwise for the sake of maintaining a functional albeit shallow pluralism is to live in denial of who we are as people. Religion (in both its broad and specific senses) cannot be separated from politics because it is people, whole people not fragmented forcefully compartmentalized people, who are the ones doing politics.

So in not believing in the separation of church and state, I mean that I think the very idea is impossible. Church and state are not abstract entities, but are functioning communities of people who cannot help but bring their whole selves into those particular relational spheres.

That said, there are of course drastically different ways of how this gets lives out. On the extremes are those that choose to reject either religion or politics. There are the religious people who while admitting to our identity as religious people, feel that religion is too offensive to ever force upon others even in the form of dialogue and so they advocate for remaining silent on anything having to do with religion. I understand the desire to care for the sensibilities of others, but if I didn’t believe in my faith enough to think that it should make a difference in the world then why bother with believing at all? At the opposite extreme are the religious folks who think culture and politics are too corrupt for religious people to participate in and so they advocate for complete withdraw from such things. They desire all people to be religious like they are religious, but cannot be bothered to work for the transformation of the world because then they might become tainted with the ways of this world. Like Jonah they just want to condemn the world never expecting that there is any real chance that the world can ever change.

But I’m not a fan of the extremes. I think God is at work in the world at all levels in all places. I cannot hide behind or withdraw into my localized tribe if I truly believe that God loves the world enough to reconcile all things to Godself. My beliefs shape my identity and therefore how I exist in the world – including how I am involved in culture and politics. But in doing such things the big question becomes whether I am letting my faith shape me and my actions or if I am using my faith to advance my selfish ends. When I involve myself wholly in politics and culture is my goal to let God use me to transform the world or to fight to control the things I personally care about. In other words, am I imposing my faith on others to gain power and prestige for myself at the expense of others, or am I accepting my place in the body of Christ and humbly loving and respecting the other members in the body.

To me that is the major difference between Dominionism and the Kingdom of God. Advocates of Dominionism are pushing their religious views for the sake of working for the supremacy of a very small group of people – often at the expense of all others. Although ostensibly Christian, it rejects the notion of love of neighbor and the call to in humility consider others better than ourselves in exchange for the opportunity to have one’s own philosophy be the one in control. It is this sort of self-serving imposition of religion that has sparked the need for people to attempt to separate church and state. When one religious view strives to dominate and silence all others, making it dangerous for outsiders to be their true selves, we are no longer functioning as one body with many parts. It is not God that is given dominion, but the name of God that is invoked as justification of individuals graspings of power.

Despite the presence of such manipulative uses of religion, I still think God is at work in the world and that I am called to serve God’s Kingdom. Doing so means letting my faith guide my interactions with culture and in politics as I believe that God cares about and can be served through all manifestations of human community. I believe in God’s Kingdom coming on earth as in heaven, just as I have to believe that all of humanity is created in God’s image and therefore to be treated with dignity and love. That core of my faith has to guide my every action in the world – from how I treat my kids to how I shop to how I involve myself in politics – if I am to say that it is truly my faith and not my selfish ambitions that is directing me. So even as I follow the way of Jesus and affirm that God reigns over all, to be working for the Kingdom of God means that I cannot exclude, oppress, or marginalize those who appear different than me. I am connected to them and am commissioned to work for their good – not because I have rejected religion but because I embrace my holistic identity as a religious person.

As the nation starts to cringe at a resurgence of the imposing of self-seeking religion upon others, it can be tempting to retreat into a renewed call for the separation of church and state. But to do so not only denies our identities as religious beings, asking us to attempt to suppress central aspects of who we are, but it fails to examine the motivating factors behind religious interactions with the Other. While I fully understand the fear religion elicits in some, as a religious person I also cannot trivialize my beliefs by restricting them to just the isolated private sphere of my life. I will not mock my faith in that way. But even as I live a public faith, I will try to let my life serve as a reminder that the Christian scriptures do not call us to destroy the identity of those who are different than us but to love them as we work for a better world, God’s Kingdom come, for all.

While many from the left were outraged by the idea of associating these arch-conservatives, who stand against many of the things historical feminists have supported, with feminism, others supported the idea. Naomi Wolf, who seems to have a love/hate relationship with feminism, wrote that the problem some have with calling those women feminists is that we don’t understand the history of feminism. She argues (rightly in my opinion) that feminism has only become associated with leftist agendas since the 1960’s, but was, in its origins, more balanced and open to conservative values. But then she explains her reasoning why -

The core of feminism is individual choice and freedom, and it is these strains that are being sounded now more by the Tea Party movement than by the left. But, apart from these sound bites, there is a powerful constituency of right-wing women in Britain and Western Europe, as well as in America, who do not see their values reflected in collectivist social-policy prescriptions or gender quotas. They prefer what they see as the rugged individualism of free-market forces, a level capitalist playing field, and a weak state that does not impinge on their personal choices.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that there are many forms of feminism. And I’ll even admit that this rugged individualist strain made up of (as Sarah Palin described it) “gun-toting self-reliant women” is, in its own way, a form a feminism. But I am highly uncomfortable with people who, like Wolf, reduce feminism to simply being about “individual choice and freedom” (and I’m not the only one). This reduction is something I encounter in the church-world all the time. Feminist or liberation theology is labeled as merely being about individual rights, and since Jesus didn’t come talking about rights but about how we can live communally and eucharistically together as the body, such theologies must be dismissed as simply cultural and therefore unbiblical. Granted, such a dismissal usually allows for the powers that be to continue to assert their own individual preferences and ideas over those of everyone else in the guise of being biblical, but the conversation has already been shut down.

It’s like the people who mock or complain about so-called political correctness. They view having to be aware and sensitive to the feelings and situations of other people as infringing upon their rights (like their right to make fun of other people). It’s not about loving and respecting others, but about losing their right to oppress. Complaining about other people doing the very thing they’re already doing ensures that meaningful conversations that might lead to change never occur.

But, contrary to what those who fear their loss of power might assert, individual freedoms and rights has never been what feminism has been about for me. My affinity to feminism (or postcolonialism or liberationist thought) has always been based on that call to live faithfully as the body of Christ. Loving others as Christ loved us means loosing the bonds of oppression and setting captives free. It means treating people, all people, as image-bearers of God. If that means advocating for rights for some, and for the elite to relinquish some of their power in order to put an end to oppression, then so be it. If that means giving up personal comfort and choices so that I can respect, instead of mar, the image of God in others, then so be that as well. Rights for the marginalized are simply a by-product of the privileged finally attempting to live self-sacrificially as part of the body of Christ. Conversations about feminism or postcolonialism help me become aware of who the people are who need love and what ways I can make myself a living sacrifice in order to do so.

Holding so tight to privilege that one rejects discussions about helping others, or disdains collectivist social-policies that mirror the sort of eucharistic life Christ expects of us, is more in line with rugged individualism than the feminism I have known. Associating feminism with that selfish, individualist, and blatantly unchristian way of living that the far right preaches these days, hurts. Just as I often have to say in response of some far-right Christians’ attempts to harm the poor, destroy God’s creation, and keep people captive, that that sort of Christianity has little to do with the message of Jesus I find in the Bible, I guess I now have to start saying to the rugged individualist feminists that I am not that sort of feminist. Palin and Bachmann can have their “it’s all about me and my privilege” feminism, but, as a Christian, that has nothing to do with me.

Austin, Texas – The recent tragedy in Norway, the worst attack the country has experienced since WWII, shocked and pained the world. It has also forced us as a global community to look more closely at religion, identity, and how we see the “other” – as well as ourselves.

In the West, religion is often an uncomfortable topic of discussion, and the recent terror attacks in Norway have forced many of us, especially in the United States and Europe, to re-examine issues of religion and identity.

So, how do we talk about religion after Norway?

In the early responses to terror attacks, blame was quickly assigned to Muslims. Once it was revealed that the perpetrator, Anders Breivik, was actually an anti-Muslim right-wing extremist who self-identified as Christian, the proclivity to blame his actions on religious fundamentalism quickly vanished. It’s easy to point to the hypocrisy – to call people out on their inclination to assume Islam promotes violence while at the same time being quick to wash Christianity’s collective hands of any hint of wrongdoing.

Pointing fingers merely addresses the symptoms and not the actual problem of a worldview that chooses to view the other from a position of fear instead of love. And to address this problem, no matter how uncomfortable, religion must be part of the conversation.

Our religion, or lack thereof, shapes who each of us are and how we function in the world. When we believe in an idea, faith expression, or sacred text, these beliefs form our very identity – influencing everything from our politics to our relationships. For many, these beliefs are what give us hope that a better world is possible – a world where fear does not reign, and where compassion and service drive our actions instead.

Yet religious identity can also influence people to commit acts of violence and hatred. Common to fundamentalists of any religion are fear-based attempts at control. By insisting upon being right at all costs they reject the Christian discipline of trusting in God, or the Muslim call to submit to Him.

But for those who allow themselves to be formed in ways that respond to the other with love instead of fear, religion grants the means to build a better world. Orienting oneself around the needs of others strengthens the common good instead of selfish individual desires. Reclaiming love of neighbour as a religious and not merely a political mandate is therefore a necessary step in addressing the corruption of religion by fundamentalisms.

As a person of faith, I see this “lived out” faith looking like the response of Hege Dalen and her partner, Toril Hansen, to the attacks. When they heard screams and gunshots from their campsite opposite Utöyan Island, they immediately hopped in their boat and dodged bullets in order to save some 40 people. We can’t all be heroes, but choosing a life of helping those in need, no matter who they are, is the basis of any religion that would rather build than destroy. Speaking up about the religious values that motivate us to reach out, and being willing to listen to those who do the same but who come from other traditions can help change the way our cultures view religion.

Talking about religion after Norway means not letting fear define what faith is all about. Examining our own beliefs and living out our faith through selfless acts of love can move the conversation past the toxicity of fear.

Deliberate attempts to understand religion, uncomfortable as it may be, must be part of the path forward. Engage in conversation or read a book by someone who is “other” than yourself. Partner with people of other beliefs on relief or community development projects to understand how our different faiths motivate the same generous actions. And join in honest discussions about our differences to discover what we can learn from each other.

Living in secular societies does not mean ignoring our religion. Instead, we can choose to use that part of our identities to build a better world.

As these sorts of conversations go, we had to cover the topics of children and vocation. I told her a bit about my kids including my daughter’s struggle with being by far the smartest kid in her class. I was then informed by the stylist (who used to be a teacher) that I needed to avoid getting her into the Gifted and Talented programs at all costs because the kids in those programs aren’t actually smart they just ask a bunch of really annoying questions and make it difficult for anyone to learn anything. Then after admitting to her (not without reservation) that I was in seminary studying theology, I got to hear her go off on what she hates about church. Basically, she informed me that she can’t stand that churches focus so much on the Bible and studying theology and learning history. In her view all of that was pointless and if a church wasn’t there to help her figure out how God can solve her problems, then she didn’t see the point.

It was a sobering experience sitting in the chair listening to her talk. She’s great at what she does (I love my hair), but it was a still a needed reminder of the perspective of the average American church attendee these days. Just as education is about passing a test and not real learning, church is about getting that magic God-fix and not being wholly transformed. I know that there are all sorts of churches (especially here in Texas) that cater to that sort of mentality, some even perhaps hoping that with bait and switch tactics they can get people to actually follow Christ once they get them in the door. But, listening to her just had me wondering how the church can faithfully minister to people like her.

Is it possible to call people to be living sacrifices when they can’t even be bothered to know who it is they follow? It’s hard enough to talk about turning the other cheek when there are celebratory flash mobs in the streets because we finally killed our enemy. Or to call the church to love their neighbor when people see giving to others as an infringement on their entitlements. But this goes even deeper. It’s a mentality utterly at odds with the entire way of Christ and yet its adherents still claim to be Christian. I struggle with knowing how to respond. I know this issue is nothing new; it’s just difficult to be reminded of its extreme in such a blatant way. But I keep wondering how can the body of Christ ever be healthy when so many of its members are non-functioning?

I was reminded of that encounter this week as I was reading Rowan Williams’ essay “On Being Creatures.” The essay argues that only a belief that God created the world ex nihilo allows us to embrace our full dependence on God as the source of our identity and therefore stop competitively asserting ourselves over and against other people and the environment in futile attempts to define and create our own identity. For Williams, it is only in rooting ourselves in God that we can be fully human and live responsibly in the world. What most intrigued me though were his conclusions regarding the practical implications of what it would mean for us to trust so fully in God. He writes –

Both the rhetoric and the practice of our defence policies often seem to offend against the acknowledgment of creatureliness – in two respects, at least. First, there is the offence against any notion of ‘creaturely solidarity’ implied by the threat not only to obliterate large numbers of the human race … but to unleash what is acknowledged to be an uncontrollable and incalculable process of devastation in our material environment, an uncontainable injury to the ecology of the planet. Second, there is the extent to which our deterrent policies have become bound to a particular kind of technological confidence: somewhere in the not-so-distant future, it might be possible to construct a defensive or aggressive military system which will provide a final security against attack, a final defence against the pressure of the ‘other’. If I may repeat some words written in 1987 about the problems posed by the Strategic Defence Initiative, the Christian is bound to ask, ‘How far is the search for impregnability a withdrawal from the risks of conflict and change? A longing to block out the possibility of political repentance, drastic social criticism and reconstruction?’

Not embracing our identity as dependant creations of a loving God puts us at odds with the rest of creation. When we assume that our identity is shaped by something other than God, like our own efforts and resourcefulness, we live in competition and not solidarity with others. Others become not fellow image-bearers similarly in dependant relationships with God, but entities competing with us for power and limited resources. Instead of loving others, we set up defenses (or offenses) against the pressure of the other – even to the point that we arrange our world so that we don’t even have to acknowledge that the other exists.

We don’t want to know about starving children, or trafficked women, or ravaged countries if hearing about such things might upset us and demand something of us. We’d rather pretend that people we dislike don’t exist than have to encounter them and see them as human. So people try to ban days like the National Day of Silence. They pass laws prohibiting the construction of mosques in their community. They, as like with what happened to a pastor friend in Wheaton, spray-paint “Go home N***” on a black family’s garage door when that family moves into a white neighborhood. Instead of trusting in God and embracing a ‘creaturely solidarity’ because of that trust, defenses against having to respond to the other are continually built up. And as Williams so rightly points out, when we refuse to even engage the other by building up ultimate defenses against them, we shut down any possibility of being convicted of our sins. If we don’t have to engage the other, then how our actions affect them are above critique. If we’d rather pretend that LGBT people do not exist then we won’t listen to (or even allow) any dialogue regarding how they are treated. But we can never fight against injustice if we refuse to admit that injustice even exists. Liberation and reconciliation will never happen in this world if we refuse to even acknowledge voices different than our own.

But this isn’t what creation is supposed to be. We do not live ultimately in a competitive world, but we live in a world where everything is a gift from God. It is only when we can acknowledge God as creator and therefore trust in God that we can stop asserting ourselves over others and refusing to responsibly and lovingly see them as part of the community of the imago-dei. I appreciated Williams’ essay for reminding me of this practical importance of our beliefs. Our theology of creation matters. Not for some silly science vs. faith debate, but because it defines our very identity and how we live communally as the body of Christ in this world.

My worldview of the time assumed that my faith was only in something yet to come, some final end and blessing (or punishment) that God would bring about some day. To that end I completely missed the message in both writers that there is a tangible significance to faith in the here and now – that God is already at work in the world and is inviting us to join in on that endeavor. My mistake was understandable as it is the same mistake that continues to be made over and over again in the church today. We as people are always tempted to the extremes and have difficulty grasping paradox and mystery. The idea that God’s Kingdom has come and is coming doesn’t fit into our nice and tidy systems, so we gravitate to one extreme or the other.

For some it is denying the supernatural consummation of all things by proclaiming that this world and our mission to do good in it is all that we as Christians are called to. Others of course go to the opposite extreme and are so heavenly (or hellishly) minded that they sometimes even refuse to care for the needs of today. We see this manifest in the recent debates stirred by Love Wins. I’ve found it most interesting that often those who are most insistent that God punishes people to everlasting torment after death are also the ones with the least inclination to do anything about the absolute hells on earth people currently experience. When confronted with extreme evils of oppression and injustice – like human trafficking, genocide, mass rapes, racism, and sexism the response (if any) is that one day (in heaven – if they can get in) God will wipe away every tear and then they will receive the release from oppression that Jesus said he came to fulfill. Either extreme denies God’s ability to be God. Either it claims that God isn’t the source of all things to which we will ultimately be reconciled to, or it claims that justice and love are not part of God’s essence. When God exists just for the now or just for the future we lose God.

The problem with extremes is that we start to assume that only the extremes exist. I’ve discovered in speaking to groups that depending on what sort of group I’m speaking to I get accused of being too evangelical if I mention how our acts of faithfulness matter in regards to God one day reconciling all things. Or I get accused of being too liberal if I speak about serving the needs of real people in the here and now because all I should be caring about is what happens when they die or alternately about moving beyond the constraints of the now and reflecting the pure goodness of God rightly. In this view, it has to be already or not yet. Apparently embracing a theology that translates the divine drama and the hope of consummation with God as an act of ongoing mission to the world that demands our self-sacrificial participation isn’t a valid position in the world of extremes. Third ways that promote a both/and approach are a lot messier and harder to navigate and so therefore are not merely rejected but simply ignored. It is easier to promote simple theologies that place how God works into nice and tidy boxes than live in the tension of trying to understand and respond to a paradoxical already and not yet.

The thing is I don’t have the patience to deal with theologies that pretend that God doesn’t have a larger plan of hope or that don’t bother to work for God’s tangible kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. Theologies that are so inward focused that all they seem to care to do it draw lines of who gets saved, or who’s a heretic, or who is too modern or liberal or whatever. God is bigger than such pettiness. I appreciate Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza’s comment that in her view, “the*logy is best understood… not as a system but as a rhetorical practice that does not conceive of language as clear transmission of meaning, but rather as a form of action and power that affects actual people and situation.” Theology is about the already and not yet of God working in the world. It is action and how we live into our understanding of God matters just as much (or actually more) than the words we say about God. We proclaim a deep belief in hope and an eschatological vision not by merely saying words but my enacting that hope in the world. It is that sort of faith that I can put my energy towards; I truly don’t have time for anything else.

Whether it was a brilliant marketing strategy or just a sad reflection of the charged atmosphere of Christian dialogue these days, one cannot deny that Rob Bell’s latest book Love Wins has stirred up a load of controversy before it has even hit the shelves. As a book claiming the daunting task of being “A Book about Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived,” the uproar was understandable although disappointingly cruel at times. For some reason many Christians hold to the notion that where we go when we die is the most important aspect of our faith and thus get rather up in arms when people even dare to open that topic up for conversation. Bell deftly addresses the need to re-prioritize what is central to our faith, but more on that in a moment. Let me first get the controversial stuff out of the way.

Does Bell believe in hell? Yes. Does Bell believe in heaven? Yes. Is Bell firmly rooted in Christian Orthodoxy? Yes. Does Bell think that Jesus is the way? Yes. Is Bell a universalist? If by that we mean that God is reconciling all creation to himself and that we shouldn’t assume that God will fail at this, then yes, Bell is a universalist. If that’s all you want to know so that you can judge, label, dismiss or whatever, then you can stop reading now. But if you are curious about what the book is really about and the hope-filled message of transformation it contains, then I invite you to keep reading.

At the most basic level, Love Wins is a typical Rob Bell book. Which is to say that he writes like he speaks and so what the reader encounters is an easy to read yet powerful narrative that speaks straight to the heart. Bell’s gift is to take tremendously complex theological concepts and translate them so that they are not just understandable to all but also blessedly practical. People can complain that he is too popular or over-marketed, but it is this gift that makes him resonate with so many people. At the same time, those who are versed in history and theology can clearly see the conversations of Christians through the centuries behind the ideas Bell expresses. He is not espousing anything new in this book, simply making accessible the rich tradition of Christian thought for believers today.

And what he is saying is powerful. Bell gets at the heart of what Christians believe about God and isn’t afraid to challenge the implicit assumptions about God that are at the core of some Christians’ belief systems. Central to that message is the suggestion that our relationship with the God of the universe is a dynamic and not static reality. Jesus’ work on the cross isn’t just an historical event, but an ongoing narrative of redemption and reconciliation. Our faith isn’t just about going to heaven when we die, but about entering into a relationship and partnership with God now and for eternity. Heaven and hell are real for Bell, but are not simply places we go when we die. They are connected to who we are in Christ now. We are called to accept the gift of a transformative life that can endure even death. This life is a gift from a God who truly desires life on earth to be like it is in heaven, both now and for eternity, and who lets us serve as partners in this work of reconciling a world that God loves and will never give up on.

This message that God loves his creation so much that God refuses to give up on us, forms the core of Bell’s book. Bell points out, that since the early church fathers, Christians have held that since God’s central essence is love, it is reconciliation and not eternal suffering that brings God the most glory. What we believe and how we act are vitally important, but in the end upholding and glorifying the essence of God is most important. And when we insist that people who think differently than us, or who haven’t had the same revelation as us, or who said a different prayer than us will be eternally separate from a God the scriptures say works for and longs for the redemption of all things, we are stripping God of his power and denying him glory.

At the same time, Bell doesn’t deny that love involves freedom. We are free to deny God and to refuse to live the ways of God’s kingdom. God cannot abide injustice or greed or hatred – such things have no place in the world to come and have significant consequences in the world now. Suffering exists and God cares about those in pain, yet God loves us enough to allow us to continue to live in the hell of our own choosing. Hell is real, but it is a place we create for ourselves as we reject the gift of life God offers to us. But in the scriptures judgment is always connected to restoration. God essence is love and that essence can never change. The gates of heaven never shut, for even as God will not abide injustice and sin in his realm he by nature is always desiring the reconciliation and restoration of all things. God can never stop being God which means that in the end, love has to win.

Love Wins is not a book about who is in or out. That sort of talk is too small. It is a book that invites people to remember the life God is offering them and that encourages them to thrive as they joyously participate in that life. Bell challenges theologies that seem to have forgotten what it means to live this life and moves the conversation back to a placed where Christians have the freedom to say yes to the gift God continually offers. Christianity isn’t about being right or wrong, it’s about living joyously and transformativly for Jesus – and that is a message we can all benefit from being reminded of.

If you're networked online at all I am sure at some point in recent weeks you have been tagged with the Facebook "25 Things" list. And I'm sure you've also heard your fair share of people complaining about it. Now I understand the "I just don't have time to participate" complaints, but then there are those that are slightly more disturbing. Some asked why anyone would bother reading such spam from their imaginary playgroup. Others asked why they should care about boring random facts about their "friends." Finding out the details of others' lives and sharing the details of their own just seemed like too much of a waste of time. I found it interesting that people were willing to network with others, but not interested in actually getting to know them. But sometimes it is hard to get beyond our self. We want people to know us (love us, respect us…), but we aren't willing to deal with the spam of their thoughts, struggles, and mundane life details.

It reminded me of what former Vice-President Dick Cheney said in an interview this past week -

“When we get people who are more concerned about reading the rights to an al Qaeda terrorist than they are with protecting the United States against people who are absolutely committed to do anything they can to kill Americans, then I worry,” Cheney said.

Protecting the country’s security is “a tough, mean, dirty, nasty business,” he said. “These are evil people. And we’re not going to win this fight by turning the other cheek.”

Ignoring Facebook friends and promoting terrorism might seem like a strange connection, but hear me out. Both attitudes are based on the same self-centered attitude. It is our status and our sphere that we are trying to protect. With Facebook we can simple decide to keep the Other as Other – view their input as spam to be ignored, their lives inconsequential to our existence. On the national scale that "me and mine" focus moves beyond simple brushing others aside to a stance that encourages the destruction of that which is different. Either way the idea of loving our neighbor (or enemy) is ignored in favor of protecting our own interests.

As Cheney pointed out, following the Christian principles of turning the other cheek and respecting the image of God in others cannot be adhered to if we place our own interests first. He of course sees that as a good thing and continues to call for the preemptive destruction of those different than himself. I agree with Cheney that national self-centeredness and Christian principles by nature contradict each other, but I prefer to go with the Christian principle side. Instead of our self-centeredness insisting that others love and respect us while we either ignore or destroy them, we can perhaps start to respond with that very love and respect. Not in a passive way that destroys our own self, but with strong active engagement that preserves the image of God in both ourself and the Other.

And even if we aren't quite ready to obey Christ and love the terrorist, we can maybe reach out and actually connect with Facebook friends.