As I write, I am a chaperone on a school bus with the Covington Independent School District National Elementary Honor Society, and we are headed to the Johnson Space Center outside Houston. We stopped for lunch at a restaurant in College Station where the ceiling was covered with hundreds of chrome disks.

One of the fifth grade students asked, “Are those speakers?”

“No, those are hubcaps.”

We take for granted what we know. Knowing what we know, we assume everyone else knows it, too. Thinking we have a reservoir of shared knowledge, we roll through life wondering why so many around us look confused. How often do we allow their confusion to call attention to our assumptions?

One of our assumptions is thinking the things we know and the stuff of our experience will always be just as we knew and experienced them.

I remember as a boy watching one of my dad’s hubcaps roll down the road and off into the weeds after it popped off the wheel. I remember my dad stopping the car, running back to retrieve the hubcap, and popping that chrome disk back on the wheel with ease. He was not about to drive around with three hubcaps or be out the money for a new one, especially when it was so easy to retrieve and reinstall the one he had.

While children today still know what hubcaps are, while we still have some shared knowledge, something about those chrome disks covering the ceiling was unrecognizable to the children today. What I regarded with familiarity and fondness, they encountered as strange. How much else do we experience differently? More than we realize and want to accept.

As I begin the work of executive director and publisher of the Baptist Standard, I find myself looking at a box of chrome disks. Some people want to keep them all. Some want all of them displayed with care, even reverence. Some want only the American makes. Others want only the Ford or Chevrolet. While these groups argue (also read ‘discuss’) the virtues of their choices, another group simply wants someone to tell them what those chrome disks are.

“Are they speakers?”
“No, they’re hubcaps.”
“Oh. They seem very important to you.”
“They are. They remind us of good things.”

Is the Standard here to name hubcaps? Not any more than that restaurant exists to display them. The restaurant exists to feed people. The hubcaps are simply adjectives in the restaurant’s story. The Standard exists to feed people, too, using adjectives like ‘news,’ ‘commentary,’ and ‘opinion’ to tell the story of Jesus’ redemptive work in the world.

As we join together in telling the grand story of Jesus, you will appreciate some of what you read and will dislike other things you read. The Standard may revere some of your chrome disks while seeming to disrespect others, and we will have engaging conversations about which ones to display and how. All of that is fine as long as we keep the conversation in perspective so when we hear, “Are those speakers?” we can say: “Yes, we are, and those are hubcaps, and they remind us of something very good. Would you like to hear about it?”

A couple of things to remember:

1. Communicate as much as possible in your listener’s language, which means you will have to slow down and be more deliberate about seeking common understanding.

2. Be open to hearing the stories of others, even if what interests others does not make sense or seems unimportant to you. Listening with your full attention is an act of Christ-like love.

The time has come to say goodbye—or promise to keep looking for you while praying our paths cross again. After 18 years and seven months as editor of the Baptist Standard, this is my final editorial.

Marv KnoxTwenty-two years ago, a Baptist Standard search committee sought a successor to Editor Presnall Wood. The committee wisely chose Toby Druin, the Standard’s associate editor for almost two decades. Then Toby, a lifelong friend and mentor, asked me to come back home to Texas and to work for him. Three years later, the Standard’s board of directors asked me to succeed him, and I became the newspaper’s 13th editor Jan. 1, 1999.

So much change

By the way, it was a newspaper then. That was before digital media proliferated, back when Baptists received their denominational news on paper and ink. So much has happened, and so much has changed:

• Among Baptist newspapers, we pioneered in posting content on the Internet.

• We updated our printed edition—again and again.

• We launched a development program to help pay the bills, particularly since we’re the only Baptist news organization not subsidized by its affiliated convention.

• We led with the Enhanced Electronic Edition—an exact copy of our print edition. God bless you if you tried to read an entire paper on that creaky platform.

• We created New Voice Media, a partnership with Associated Baptist Press, Virginia’s Religious Herald and Missouri’s Word & Way. We teamed up to produce cover packages, operate a joint website platform and share design costs. Mostly, we provided collegiality and moral support.

• We built, launched, operated and eventually closed FaithVillage, a resources website for young adults. It touched tens of thousands of people a month. But we couldn’t cover the costs, and the board and staff previously agreed we would not allow FaithVillage to take down the Standard.

• We considered and eventually decided against merging with Baptist News Global, the news organization created by the merger of Associated Baptist Press and the Religious Herald.

• We made numerous difficult decisions—about selling our building in West Dallas and relocating our office, discontinuing the printed edition of the Standard, publishing only online, launching CommonCall magazine, and adjusting staff size and structure.

• We revamped our marketing program and digital media presence, added the “Texas Baptist Voices” and “Deep in the Hearts of Texans” columns, set our budget in the black and enjoyed an upward trend in readership.

• We redesigned the Standard’s logo and built a new, vastly improved website, both of which will premiere soon. (In a stroke of divine blessing, the staff will learn how to operate the new site the day after my last day on the job.)

“We” is a beautiful word

“We” is the operative word in the previous 10 paragraphs. All that has happened across the past two decades has been a labor of faith and passion that joined the hearts and talents of our board of directors and staff.

The great blessing of serving at the Standard has been the opportunity to walk alongside these women and men. They have been colleagues who became friends; friends who feel like family. Despite fractiousness in society and in the Baptist denomination, our board and staff always worked in harmony, seeking God’s plan for our ministry in a spirit of respect and love.

The other major blessing of this job has been communicating with Texas Baptists, the folks who nurtured me. As a child, I never dreamed a kid growing up in Texas Panhandle Baptist parsonages could become editor of the Baptist Standard. But you welcomed me into your home—and onto your phone and/or laptop—time and again.

And here’s the best part: You welcomed me even when we didn’t agree. Historically, that’s been one of Texas Baptists’ great virtues—the willingness to accept and respect one another despite disagreements and the ability to continue working alongside each other. The board of directors protected editorial freedom, and most readers tolerated it. So, I enjoyed an unparalleled opportunity to write about the most important cultural, moral and religious issues of our day, and readers exercised their right to respond in letters. We’re all better because of the free and faithful conversation.

Unexpected blessing

Late last year, a phone call delivered a bolt out of the blue—an invitation to talk to Suzii Paynter, executive coordinator of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, about launching a new network called Fellowship Southwest.

Since its founding more than a quarter-century ago, I have admired CBF’s commitment to historic Baptist principles that resonate in the hearts of many Texas Baptists—the priesthood of all believers, local-church autonomy, religious liberty, and cooperative missions and ministry. Along the way, I have admired Suzii Paynter, a native Texan and one of Baptists’ great leaders. So, the Holy Spirit did not have to nudge me hard to convince me to say yes to her offer.

Beginning Aug. 1, I will work alongside existing CBF organizations in Oklahoma, Texas and the West. We will seek to advance missions and ministry, promote Baptist identity, and strengthen multicultural and ecumenical relationships. For me, this opportunity sounds like Frederick Buechner’s definition of calling: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

Meanwhile, I hope you’ll join me in praying for the Baptist Standard and its next editor. The board is wise and courageous, and the staff is talented and committed. We can expect the next editor to possess those characteristics. But she or he will need your support. So, maintain your subscription and keep reading. The best Baptist is an informed Baptist.

“I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel …, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:3-6).

Follow Marv on Twitter: @marvknox

Can you think of a time when Jesus failed to take the side of the underdog?

Marv Knox

From start to finish, Jesus focused his teaching and his ministry on the weak, the sick, the disadvantaged, the outsider, the shamed, the poor, the folks he called “the least of these.”

Early in his ministry, Jesus told people from his hometown the Spirit of the Lord had sent him “to preach the gospel to the poor, … to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord” (Luke 4:16-22).

Late in his ministry, Jesus declared all people eventually will be judged by whether they fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, took in the stranger, clothed the naked, looked after the sick and visited the prisoner (Matthew 25:31-46).

In-between …

In-between, Jesus spent significant time talking about how to treat the people others scorn and serve people others ignore. For example, he:

• Cast out demons. And more demons. Healed a demon-possessed man everyone else despised and feared. As well as freed a demon-possessed boy.

• Healed sick people. Raised a dead girl and healed a chronically ill woman. And another longtime ill woman. Later, a blind man.

• Touched the most dreaded outcast—a leper—and healed him. And later healed 10 other lepers.

• Healed a paralyzed man and, according to conventional wisdom, spoke blasphemy by forgiving his sins.

• Blessed the poor, the hungry, the weeping, the hated and the insulted, but cursed the rich, the well-fed, the laughing, the praised.

• Told his followers to love their enemies and give to them freely.

• Forbade his followers from judging and condemning and commanded them to forgive and give generously.

• Took pity on a widow, one of the least-powerful people in society.

• Told John the Baptist’s followers the best sign that he was the Messiah was how he treated the weak and vulnerable: “Go and report to John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have the gospel preached to them.”

• Allowed a “sinful woman” to anoint him—an extremely personal and touching act of compassion—and promised her salvation.

• Fed hungry people.

• Not once, but twice, told his followers to throw banquets for “the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind.”

• Defined as a “neighbor” an outsider most everyone else would have described as an enemy.

• Called a man a fool for gathering up and securing his possessions.

• Told his followers to sell their possessions and give to the poor.

• Strongly implied a rich man went to hell because he was greedy and a poor man went to heaven because he suffered on earth.

• Cared for little children.

• Told a law-abiding rich man, “Sell everything you have and give to the poor.”

• Commanded his followers, “Love your neighbor as yourself” and “treat people the same way you want them to treat you.”

Longstanding discussion

We’ve been conducting this discussion—about how Jesus treated the marginalized and how we’re to do the same—throughout the past two decades. In fact, I suppose reflections on how Jesus intended his followers to treat the underdogs have accounted for more editorials than any other topic across these years.

The poor always have been with us. And their plight is ever before us.

But despite Jesus’ repeated teachings and abundant examples, those editorials generated controversy. Maybe that shouldn’t be surprising, because Jesus’ attitudes and actions toward the poor kept getting him in trouble, too.

When you start quoting Jesus’ sermons and statements on serving the weak and vulnerable, you get the feeling he couldn’t get elected dogcatcher around here. Of course, he never got elected Citizen of the Year in Nazareth, either.

And yet the subject keeps coming up. Sure, the poor are with us, but that’s not the half of it. We’ve kept talking about the poor, and the sick, and the homeless, and the stranger because how we treat them gets at the heart of the gospel.

Baptists are all about salvation. We’re most comfortable talking about evangelism and leading people to faith in Jesus. That’s the main thing, of course—helping people develop a relationship with God in Christ. But …

But Jesus expressed concern for their lives in the here and now. He told us to care for people’s physical needs. He didn’t give us a pass to baptize them and treat their physical plight as a mess they made and for which they are responsible.

And meeting human need often provides the best path for evangelism. Once they know we care for their bodies, they’re more open to hearing about our care for their souls.

For two decades, I’ve been pestering Texas Baptists about how we treat the poor, the sick, the children and the elderly. This is my next-to-last editorial, so I’m going to plead once more: Take Jesus seriously, and do everything you can for those he loves, whose plight breaks his holy heart.

More of the gospel

If motivation to help others is not sufficient, then lean into eternal self-preservation. Over and over, Jesus said he would judge our fervency—the reality of our salvation—by how we treat people’s physical condition. He won’t ask us about our testimony, or how much Scripture we can recite, or exactly what we believe. He said he will judge us by how we look after hungry, thirsty, naked and sick people and how we comfort strangers and prisoners.

Texas Baptists are generous, and we care for many thousands of people through our churches and community organizations. Who among us has not beamed and/or wept when we’ve read stories of grace and compassion?

But that’s not enough. Not if we expect to fulfill Jesus’ commands to care for the myriad needy among and around us. To get that done, we must:

• Continue to serve them—operate food pantries and clothes closets, tutor children and mentor their parents, as well as offer community health clinics, jobs programs, marriage and parent training, and other ministries that tangibly touch lives.

• Steward our influence and persuasive goodwill to convince our fellow citizens to stem the tide of poverty and provide a durable safety net for the sick and those from damaged families. This means supporting legislation and programs that enable the larger society to serve the greater good, which particularly includes looking out for the most vulnerable. Jesus commanded his followers to be “salt and light”; surely that involves leveraging positive influence for the benefit of others.

This side of Glory, we can debate the size and effectiveness of government. We should strive to demand accountability and cooperation that makes government strong and effective.

But Jesus warned us that, on the other side, we will be judged by how we cared for the poor. Jesus won’t be talking politics or debating tax structures, either. He’ll be judging our hearts—and our actions.

Follow Marv on Twitter: @marvknox

Ironically, the world premiere of Hood, a swashbuckling musical retelling of the Robin Hood myth, opened in Dallas a little more than a week before the Texas Legislature opens its special session.

Marv Knox

In case you’ve forgotten your childhood folklore: In medieval England, greedy royals murdered Robin’s father and burned down the family home. Robin sought refuge in Sherwood Forest, where he gathered his “band of merry men”—similarly victimized by ruthless power-brokers. Enacting their own justice in a land of lawlessness, they robbed from the rich to support the poor.

In case you’ve missed your political news lately: In 21st century Texas, our government leaders, most notably Gov. Greg Abbott and Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick, are attempting to inflict upon our state a reverse-Robin Hood—take from the poor and give to the rich. Enmeshed in the governor’s legislative agenda is another run at providing private-school vouchers at the expense of public education.

Torqued process, dead bills

During the regular session of the Legislature, the House, led by Speaker Joe Straus, passed a $1.6 billion plan to overhaul the state’s public education finance system. Then the Senate, led by Lt. Gov. Patrick, torqued the process, proposing a voucher plan that would result in transferring public education funds to private, mostly parochial, schools. When the chambers couldn’t reconcile their bills, both plans died.

But now Gov. Abbott has placed the issue on the agenda for the Legislature’s special session, which begins July 18. Pray Straus and his colleagues in the House will prevail against Patrick and his allies in the Senate.

Opponents of school vouchers can recite a litany of reasons why vouchers are a horrible idea. Let’s discuss two that should appeal to responsible people of faith.

Protect the weak & vulnerable

First, vouchers violate the mandates of Jesus—and similar admonitions by the Hebrew prophets and teachings of other world religions—that call upon both individuals and societies to care for and protect the weakest and most vulnerable among them.

Aside from making certain poor people don’t starve, providing quality public education is the primary method by which a state cares for its people. If a generation receives education, it becomes capable of caring for itself, strengthening its society, and passing on an even-better future for its children. Conversely, a failure to educate dooms the rising generation, as well as the generations that follow, to poverty, dependency and hopelessness.

As a state, we should have no higher priority than giving our children a stellar education that prepares them for productivity and leadership across the coming decades. This makes sense morally; a bedrock Golden Rule principle is educating all children at the level we want our own offspring educated. This makes sense economically; even the small proportion of Texas children who might receive the finest education will live in a backwater if their peers are not taught well enough to hold down good jobs and thrive in a 21st century marketplace that will demand increasing levels of technical expertise.

Voucher advocates claim they will enable poor children to attend private schools. Those who can say that with straight faces deserve a reward. An Oscar. Even if voucher funds completely cover private-school tuition, the related costs of attending those schools—such as uniforms, transportation, technology, etc.—are beyond the reach of most poor families.

So, let’s call vouchers what they are: Educational subsidies for middle-class and rich families. They’re also a boon to private schools, which can recruit even more middle-class and rich kids to leave public schools for education in their enclaves.

Violated principles

Second, vouchers will violate reasonable principles of church-state separation or bedrock fundamentals of good, responsible government.

If voucher funds are handled responsibly, then their provision will introduce new levels of government involvement in private/parochial education. If the government provides funds—either directly or, more likely, as a pass-through from government to family to school—then it appropriately monitors and regulates those funds. On the other hand, if the government transfers voucher funds to schools without accountability, then it fails taxpayers and creates unprecedented opportunities for graft and corruption.

Either option should be reprehensible to Texans of both political parties, who historically have championed both religious liberty and responsible government.

So, what’s a God-fearing, compassionate, responsible Texan to do?

Most importantly, contact your state senator and representative—in-person or with a hand-written note, or at least with a phone call—and urge them to oppose vouchers.

If you want more background, the Texas Baptist Christian Life Commission and Pastors for Texas Children, which was launched by the CLC four years ago, can provide chapter and verse on why vouchers violate these two biblical truths of moral justice and responsibility.

Tell your senator and representative you’ll be watching the voucher debate and votes. Tell them you’ll hold them responsible for their actions. Lawmakers who fail to act in the best interests of our state don’t deserve to remain in office.

Follow Marv on Twitter: @marvknox

While you were thinking about Independence Day, the president of the United States was thinking about Christmas.

Marv Knox

Donald Trump celebrated Christmas in July during the Celebrate Freedom rally in Washington’s Kennedy Center three days before the Fourth. The gala was intended to honor the military, but the president reprised some of hits from the campaign trail.

“Our religious liberty is enshrined in the very first amendment in the Bill of Rights,” he said. “The American founders invoked our Creator four times in the Declaration of Independence. Benjamin Franklin reminded his colleague at the Constitutional Convention to begin by bowing their heads in prayer. I remind you that we’re going to start saying ‘Merry Christmas’ again.”

Dopy in December; juvenile in July

If you think cranking up the Christmas wars in July seems a little odd, that’s because it is. Fighting over whether people say “Merry Christmas” is dopey in December, and it’s just plain juvenile in July.

Let’s think about this from Jesus’ standpoint. We don’t know what he really thinks about people celebrating his birthday. Most mature people get over making a big deal of their birthdays somewhere in early adulthood, and the Lord has had a couple thousand of them. Also, even the folks who like to keep on celebrating their birthdays only really expect their family to make a big deal. So, why would Jesus be any different?

But more to the point: Assuming Jesus cares about how people celebrate his birthday, don’t you think he wants them to do so it advances his kingdom?

What Jesus said …

The First and Second Commandments tell us: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind,” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.” The Great Commission instructs us: “Go, and make disciples of all nations … .”

If Christians intend to come anywhere near demonstrating we love our neighbors and seeing any success in making disciples, then our mandated approach should be to love them and lead them into a saving relationship with Jesus. Since all they know of Jesus is what they see of him in us, how can we expect them to think of Jesus as loving if they don’t know we’re loving?

Unfortunately, Christians who get all high and mighty about whether others say “Merry Christmas” come off as hateful jerks rather than loving soul winners. Ramping up on “Merry Christmas” may be a productive political ploy, but it’s atrocious evangelism.

We might not expect President Trump to understand that. After all, one of his leading evangelical boosters called him a “baby Christian,” and he hasn’t demonstrated significant biblical knowledge. But we should know better; we should celebrate Christmas so that we attract others to our Savior.

Christmas is coming

Since the president brought it up now, we’ve got about five months to get ready before the Christmas season hits full stride. Instead of waging the Christmas wars this year, let’s engage a strategy of spreading divine love, which compelled Jesus to come to Earth in the first place.

Let’s truly love our neighbors as ourselves. If we take the Parable of the Good Samaritan seriously, we know our neighbors include Muslims, Sikhs, Hindus, Buddhists, people of lesser-known faiths and no faith. If we take Jesus’ teachings seriously, we know that means feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, taking in the stranger, clothing the naked, healing the sick and visiting the prisoner.

Treating all people as our neighbor and showing divine love and care for “the least” among us are the kinds of gifts Jesus would love for his birthday. Christmas will be here before you know it, so get ready.

Better yet, the president has declared Christmas in July. So, start now.

Follow Marv on Twitter: @marvknox

This Independence Day, let’s save the word “patriotism” from people who ply it for political purposes.

Marv KnoxIt’s time for U.S. Christians to launch a revolution to restore the true meaning of patriotism—and then live out that definition for the good of the country.

For generations, Americans thought of a patriot as someone who placed country ahead of self. A patriot was a soldier who risked life for the liberty of others. Or a public servant who toiled tirelessly so other citizens could reap the benefits of democracy. Or people in myriad occupations who spent their careers making decisions based on the best interests of others, not what they would get out of it.

Now, when we hear “patriot” in any context other than professional football, it unfortunately conveys political connotations. A “patriot” now means someone who claims to love America more than others do, while also denigrating every other American who does not think like he or she does. It’s someone who pretends to love the Constitution while undermining constitutional guarantees for people who are “different.”

Turning “patriot” upside-down

“Patriot” now is used to imply the speaker is better or “more American” than others who look, sound, worship or think differently.

So, ironically, many Americans who claim the title today would draw the ire, if not outright condemnation, of the nation’s Founders, the original patriots.

Through the clear hindsight of history, we see their flaws. They established a country where one person could own another person. They did not allow half the population the right to vote. They contended viciously with one another. And yet they believed in country ahead of self. They believed in the absolute right to freedom. And they established the constitutional provisions that enabled their young country eventually to carry freedom beyond the horizon of their own vision—so that African Americans could enjoy all the rights and privileges of freedom; so that women could vote and hold public office alongside men.

Ennobling idea

For generations, the idea of patriotism has ennobled the essential American character. For patriotism, Americans:

• Sacrificed their lives.

• Voted against self-interest in order to lift others up.

• Gladly paid taxes to benefit people across this land and beyond the sea, investments never directly returned.

• Defended the right of others to speak ideas they deplored.

• Applauded the success of others, even during their own lean times.

Undermining freedom

More recently, the words “patriot” and “patriotism” have turned common meaning on its head and undermined individual freedom and the greater good. Claiming patriotism, people have:

• Denied the essential role of government to serve all people and called it the enemy.

• Placed themselves and people who look and think like them ahead of others.

• Curtailed historic constitutional freedoms to people who believe differently.

• Justified unjust systems—commercial, judicial and political—that provide advantage to their tribe while punishing all others.

• Lied and undermined truth, upending civil discourse and preventing others from finding middle ground from which to alleviate problems and better the country.

Time to revolt

It’s time for Christians of goodwill to stage a revolt. It’s time to refuse to say the words “patriot” and “patriotism” except when they point to their classic meanings, which advocate placing others over self and advancing the greater good.

It’s also time to stand down people who use the terms to advance corrupt, self-serving agendas.

Christians, of all people, should understand and advocate for true patriotism. The idea of placing others ahead of self for the greater good is embedded in Jesus’ admonitions:

• “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31).

• “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you” (Luke 6:27-31).

• “So, the last will be first, and the first will be last” (Matthew 20:16).

• “… whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave” (Matthew 20:26-27).

• “‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’… ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me’” (Matthew 25:40, 45).

Sadly, many U.S. Christians have adopted the prevailing culture’s worldview, which values self ahead of others and always seeks advantage. But if Christians take Jesus seriously, we will behave contrary to culture and embody the kind of love for others that shapes the essence of true patriotism.

Follow Marv on Twitter: @marvknox

One of the more interesting religion stories of the young summer has been Tim Farron’s decision to step down as leader of Britain’s Liberal Democrat party, succumbing to the challenge of reconciling his Christian faith with his political leadership.

Marv Knox

The Liberal Democrats took a unique stand in Britain’s recent snap elections. Theirs was the only party with national reach that offered Britons another referendum on leaving the European Union. But they failed to gain support, and their campaign staggered under questions about Farron’s faith and political fitness.

“From the very first day of my leadership, I have faced questions about my Christian faith,” particularly regarding homosexuality, Farron said in a Reuter’s news article. “I’ve tried to answer with grace and patience. Sometimes, my answers could have been wiser.”

No answers

Ultimately, he couldn’t provide answers to assuage the left wing of his left-leaning party.

“Farron … concluded that it was impossible for him to stay as leader of a progressive, liberal party and live as a committed Christian, despite not seeking to impose his views on others,” Reuters reported.

Farron’s departure has left Christians in Britain wondering if they have a place in their nation’s politics. “His resignation reflects the fact that we live in a society that is still illiberal in many ways and is intolerant of political leaders having a faith,” explained Sarah Latham, director of the Liberal Democrat Christian Forum. “This urgently needs to change. It will change only if Christians step up and get involved in all areas of life and change the rhetoric.”

Of course, both politics and cultural responses to religion are different in Great Britain and the United States. Farron’s departure scenario would not necessarily play out in the U.S. political system. Still, this situation points to the necessity of robust, active faith involvement in both American political parties.

Vacuum will be filled

If people of faith abandon our national public square, the vacuum will be filled. Most certainly, it will be filled by partisans whose political, economic and social values do not reflect standards of faith. Quite likely, it will be filled by those who claim religious people have no right to assert their opinions about the public good.

This would represent an epic loss, not simply for people of faith, but for the nation as a whole.

Believe it or not—and partisans from the poles of the political parties do not—some Americans affiliate with both the Republican and Democratic parties precisely because of their faith.

This is most obvious with the Republicans, whose political base has been bolstered by evangelical Christians and conservative Catholics more than four decades. As even casual observers know, many of these voters are motivated by two faith-fueled positions—eliminating abortion and opposing same-sex marriage. These are the headline issues that grab national attention as they galvanize a huge cohort of voters.

Some Republicans likewise vote as they do because their small-government political philosophy reflects their religious views regarding thrift, stewardship and individual responsibility.

Likewise, a significant number of Democrats follow their spiritual consciences into the voting booth. They champion support for the poor, the disadvantaged and the otherwise marginalized because they believe Jesus and the prophets commanded them to look out for “the least” among society.

Some Democrats also vote as they do because they believe Jesus commanded them to be “salt” and “light,” and so they should use their influence—on the ballot and on the public square—to encourage society to care for the underdogs.

Needed voices

A significant number of Christian Republicans can’t believe a pro-choice Democrat who affirms same-sex marriage can be a Christian. And some Christian Democrats have a hard time understanding how a Republican who supports laws and policies that hurt poor people, children, the elderly and the chronically ill can be a Christian, either.

The truth is Christian Republicans and Democrats vote exactly as they do precisely because of how they read the Bible. To the consternation of the other, both parties need them—not for their voting power, but for their conscience.

Even when they disagree—perhaps especially when they disagree—people of faith bring a badly needed perspective to their political parties. They remind their colleagues politics is not simply about power, economics, philosophy and elections. Their presence speaks to the transcendence of moral principle, of speaking up for values.

This is true, even though it is paradoxical. Principled conservative and liberal people of faith bring value to their political parties. Sometimes, they yield to the temptation to put party ahead of principle. But across the longer arc of time, they point beyond expediency to virtue.

America needs people of robust faith involved in politics. If either party throws them out—and don’t kid yourself; it could happen in both parties—their voices will not be heard in the public square, calling for transcendent values.

Follow Marv on Twitter, @marvknoxbs

My face ain’t what it used to be.

“Compared to what?” you may ask. Fair question. Compared to everything it’s ever been.

Faces are inordinately subjective, aren’t they? When we look at others, we see beautiful and handsome faces, ordinary and interesting faces, happy and sad faces, compelling and threatening faces, faces we’ll always remember and faces we’ll forget the second we look away.

But they’re just faces. Other people’s faces. They’re useful for identifying friends, family, acquaintances and famous people. All the other faces are pretty much wallpaper, which we rarely notice.

Our faces

Then there are our faces. Your face and mine. We pay attention to our own faces. This helps explain why the U.S. cosmetics industry took in almost $62.5 billion last year. I don’t even know if that includes shaving cream and razors. Human nature compels most of us to pay close attention to our faces—the most recognizable representation of our selves.

I’ve been thinking about my own face. A lot. More about why in a moment.

The first time I recall even considering my face was the first time something bad happened to it. When I was in fourth grade—50 years ago last month—I got hit in the head with a baseball bat. My face resembled a raccoon’s. And I received my first facial scar, a tiny crater above my left temple.

A few years later, the onset of puberty delivered acne, and the number of scars multiplied to a number too traumatic to count. For the first time, acne made me ashamed of my face. But acne also made me resilient and funnier. If you can’t change your looks, you’ve got to compensate somehow.

For a couple of decades, my face changed peripherally—hairstyles, glasses, evolving moustache and beard and goatee.

A toll taken

Then, of course, came middle age, when gravity, genetics and exposure took their toll in approximately this sequence:

• Hair thinning

• Crow’s feet, which I prefer to call “laugh lines”

• Gray hair

• Jowls

• More hair thinning, which ultimately must be acknowledged as baldness

• Ear hair, to add insult to follicle injury

• A scar in the middle of my forehead, thanks to my dermatologist

• A little turkey-gobbler thingy

The word is “character”

So, by this time, my face already had plenty of “character,” which is what people who want to deny they’re getting older call the definite signs of getting older.

Then my face changed almost imperceptibly. A slight lump rose up on the top of my right jaw. I’ve told you about it before. Late last year, a surgeon saved my life by removing the lump, an acinic cell carcinoma—a tumor in my salivary gland. Two weeks later, another surgeon compensated for nerve damage from the first surgery by putting a weight in my right eyelid, so I can close that eye. And then a radiologist, working to secure my longevity, ran me through six weeks of radiation.

My ol’ face took quite a beating. On the up side, since I can’t raise one paralyzed eyebrow, I also can raise only one eyebrow. This is really cool; a mark of a true comedian. But now I’ve got a fading scar across my right temple, down the side of my ear and into my neck. The corners of my right eye have been cinched down to help that little weight close that eye. The shekinah glow of radiation has faded, and most of my hair has grown back. The right side of my face sags a bit, so people still ask if I’ve got Bell’s palsy. Two kinds of plastic surgeons have said, “Just wait,” for which I’m simultaneously deeply grateful and a little disappointed.

As you might imagine, I don’t like my face all that much right now. Sure, I’ve always known I look more like a hockey player than a movie star. But my mug was more or less symmetrical. I could eat a sandwich without contortions. And the name Quasimodo never crossed my mind when I looked in the mirror.

A good thing; really

Besides all that, I have to tell you getting this face is one of the best things that ever happened to me.

Unlike so many cancer patients, I never had to confront my near-term mortality. The first thing my surgeon, Dr. Steckler, told Joanna was, “Your husband is not going to die of this.” We trusted his experience and leaned into his comfort.

Still, we knew this was big and bad, although we could not comprehend how big or how bad. Two surgeries and 30 radiation treatments offered an ordeal. And frankly, I’ve never felt so bad and also so close to the Lord. Jo remained faithful and steadfast throughout the journey, and we felt the presence of the Holy Spirit and the prayers of family, friends and strangers every day.

I can hold this paradox without question: I never would choose cancer, but I wouldn’t trade this experience. The richness of God’s infusion into our lives more than compensated for the agony.

Counting blessings

And then there’s my face. Sure, it aggravates me. I don’t expect to look like George Clooney, but sometimes I’d like to look like I did before my first surgery. Now, those scars, and that divot beside my ear, and that droop on the right side of my face remind me of my blessings:

• A wife who loves me more than her next breath and really meant it when she said, “… until death do us part” almost four decades ago. She says she sees “the real” me, beyond the scars and contortion.

• Children and grandchildren who love me no matter what I look like and who—most of the time—think I’m funny.

• Parents and brother who have seen me in every phase of my life and know me so well they don’t even think about my appearance.

• My “little brother” whom I mentor, who never blinked or backed up, even when I looked more like Frankenstein than myself.

• Friends who love me and laugh with me and don’t give my face a second thought.

• A job in which I can get by with “a face for radio.”

• Honorable work, good books, wonderful music and deep breathing, all of which provided plenty of distraction when the pain was the worst.

• And most of all, a God who formed me and shaped every iteration of my life—this face included—who loves me beyond comprehension and who will go on loving me when I lay aside this earthly shell, face and all.

The contours of my face have provided me with a metaphor for God’s grace. Now I can’t—as if I ever could—be pretty enough to make my friends like me; they just do. And I can’t be whole enough, smart enough, hard-working enough, wise enough to make God love me; God just does.

Amen.

Follow Marv on Twitter, @marvknoxbs

What force exerts the greatest influence on your congregation and the Christians you know? Are they shaped more by the gospel of Jesus Christ or by the culture around them?

Of course, the “Sunday school answer” always is Jesus. Christians pattern our lives after the teaching and example of Jesus. But is that the true answer? To what degree are our thoughts and actions formed by Jesus? And to what degree are they dictated by customs, actions and philosophies that have nothing to do with Jesus?

Two answers

Two answers quickly come to mind—“some of both” and “yeah, but … .”

“Some of both” is an accurate response, isn’t it? We try to follow the Golden Rule, the Great Commandment and the Great Commission, as well as all Jesus’ teachings about ministering to “the least of these.” But we acknowledge we’re influenced by modernity—from air conditioning, to musical instruments, to organizational charts, mission statements and goal-setting.

But the question is: What force exerts the greatest influence? It means only one answer will do. And it implies a deeper level of influence than the contemporary trappings of church facilities or management principles.

That’s where the “yeah, but …” answer comes into play. If we take the question seriously, and we start thinking about more than cosmetic influences, we’re tempted to respond, “Yeah, but we’re not influenced by culture as much as the church down the street.” And thus begins the finger-pointing.

Split arguments

Typically, at this point, the argument splits along—what else?—cultural divisions. Easy answers come to mind: “Yeah, but liberals are even more shaped by culture; just look at how they’ve responded to sexual issues.” “Yeah, but conservatives are even more shaped by culture; just look at how they’ve cozied up to the right-wing politicians.”

The “yeah, but …” response isn’t helpful, because it ignores the advice your parents gave you when you started learning to make excuses: Don’t worry about the other person. Pay attention to yourself. Decide for yourself to do the right thing.

In this case, that advice means taking a long, hard, honest look at yourself and your church in light of the gospels and culture. Then, give your loyalty to Jesus and the Gospels.

This decision can influence many areas of personal and congregational activity, but here are a few to get us thinking about it:

Finances

This may come as a shock, but Jesus didn’t found the church on capitalism. The church in the West exists in a capitalistic society, so we can’t escape the gears and mechanisms of our economic structure. But we ought to be able to think beyond the cultural materialism that surrounds us and sometimes suffocates us.

Confronting this truth shapes our churches—how we make decisions about buildings and staff and programming and other ways we spend our tithes and offerings. A seminary professor once said, “Show me your church’s budget, and I’ll show you your priorities.” He was right.

The same thing goes for us as individuals and families. Are we more influenced by the lifestyle of our neighbors or by what Jesus said about helping the poor? What do we need, and what do we simply want? How much more effectively could we advance Jesus’ agenda if we back down from consumerist culture?

Worship

Holding the line on worship influenced by Christ or culture is a huge congregational challenge. If you love hymns and pipe organs, don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back. That, too, is cultural influence—broad cultural influence of a bygone era that still resonates with a strong church subculture. And if you love praise bands and contemporary choruses, don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back, either. We all know praise music tracks popular music culture.

The broader truth is this: Fighting about worship is cultural influence. It’s the influence of wanting to please ourselves and have our own way.

We’ll never worship exactly as the early church worshipped, and we shouldn’t. It would be so foreign to us that we’d be distracted away from worship. But we make too much of the style of worship. The purpose of the style is to facilitate turning hearts toward God. I first typed that sentence, “… turning our hearts toward God,” but it’s not about us. It’s about everybody within the reach of our congregation.

A composer friend observed a church could offer “polka worship,” and it could be wonderful if it were designed to help people worship the Lord and if it were done with excellence as an offering to the Lord.

We can worship in a variety of styles. We effectively fend off culture, not in the style of worship we choose, but in the attitude of our hearts as we choose to worship.

Relationships

How do our relationships reflect culture? We tend to gravitate toward people whose lifestyle, race and ethnicity, attitudes and interests, and even politics make us comfortable.

But we counter culture when we befriend people vastly different than ourselves. We’ll never reach most of our communities unless we take the counter-cultural approach, unless we befriend the “others” who are different.

Our church’s mission statement is “inviting diverse and disconnected people to passionately follow Jesus together.” It’s a challenging, frightening, invigorating, stimulating statement. Our community is home to people from many backgrounds, nationalities, languages, societies and faiths. We know we’ll never reach them if we don’t invite them into our circles of friendship and care. So, to reach the culture that sets the context for our church, we must transcend our white, middle-class WASPy comfortable culture to influence them—and ourselves—with the gospel.

How about you and your church? Which influences you the most—gospel or culture?

Follow Marv on Twitter: @marvknox

Even though he died more than a decade ago, one of the great teachers of all time still provides instruction for dealing with the terror and violence that bombard our world.

Marv Knox

Fred Rogers, host of “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” from 1968 to 2001, made an appearance on CBS Television last Sunday morning, offering reassurance in the wake of the terrorist attack that shook Manchester, England, and rocked the world.

He surfaced through the memory of Anthony Breznican, a senior writer for Entertainment Weekly, who recounted how the American icon helped him when he was long past the target age for the legendary children’s television program.

Hard time; healing visit

Breznican endured a hard time in college and one day walked past a TV playing an episode of “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” He stopped to watch and felt comforted by the warmth, familiarity and simple-yet-profound life lessons Rogers offered.

A few days later, Breznican stepped onto an elevator and found himself standing next to Rogers. Reading the young man’s body language and expression, Rogers asked, “Did you used to be one of my neighbors?” and Breznican said he did. Then Breznican went on to describe his much-more-recent encounter with Rogers’ neighborhood.

Rogers asked Breznican, “Would you like to tell me what was upsetting you?” And when the elevator stopped, they got off and talked. Rogers’ empathy set Breznican on a new course.

“I felt like his trolley car: I fell off the track. He put me back on, and that was all I needed,” he explained.

Breznican and CBS correspondent Steve Hartman connected the dots—from “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood,” to Fred Rogers’ concern for a struggling college student, to a world reeling with grief amidst reverberations from the latest terror attack.

“Look for the helpers”

They cited one of Rogers’ most famous quotes: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me: ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

Breznican recalled finding a neighbor on an elevator, who helped him. Over video of rescue workers and grieving mourners, Hartman talked about people who reached out with protection and comfort to victims of the Manchester bombing.

“Look for the helpers. …” It’s great advice, particularly when you’re shell-shocked and scared. “You will always find people who are helping.” That’s a reassuring promise, especially when you feel alone.

Rogers’ mother’s words of wisdom echo divine wisdom cited by many Christians since Henry Blackaby and Claude King wrote Experiencing God decades ago: “God is always at work around you” and “God invites you to become involved with him in his work.”

The overlapping truth of Rogers’ quote and Experiencing God’s insight is the recognition of those places where God is at work in the world, and that work is clear to see through the lives of God’s people who are helping others.

“People who are helping”

We see “people who are helping” when Texas Baptist Men disaster relievers show up in the wake of floods and tornadoes. We see people helping when counselors walk the halls of schools after shootings. We see them helping when chaplains walk alongside people beaten down by the world’s stress. We see them when pastors show up in hospital emergency rooms. We see them when Christians, Jews, Muslims and others meet to pray for their community. We see them when strangers on a train stand up to a xenophobic bully.

But we also see “people who are helping” less dramatically. We see people helping when they show up with a casserole after a miscarriage. We see them when they mow the lawn of an elderly neighbor. We see them when they take a struggling friend out for coffee or sit down to talk to a lonely coworker. We see them when they provide respite for a weary caregiver or babysit for free to give strapped parents a break. We see them practically wherever we look.

The motivations for “people who are helping” are compassion, kindness, empathy and Christian love. They’re qualities and values desperately needed today. They particularly stand out, because they contrast with selfishness, greed and a willingness to label and malign others.

Catalyst for restoration

We all know we live in a polarized society. The spreading, divisive forces of politics, class, race and ethnicity are fragmenting our culture in ways and to degrees we haven’t seen for several decades. This is scary, even more for thoughtful observers than for small children.

Still, if we stand up and become “the people who are helping,” perhaps we can provide the catalyst for restoration. That sounds naïve, doesn’t it? In this age of raw-knuckle politics, kind folks seem to get mowed down.

But love—sacrificial love, love that demands the greater good, love that places other above self—isn’t just our strongest weapon in a world of hate. It’s our only weapon.

Mrs. Rogers told her son the truth. Today, we should take her advice a step further. Sure, look for the helpers. And be the helper, too.

Follow Marv on Twitter: @marvknoxbs

The next few years could be a grand time for Christians who think the church alone should meet people’s needs, without any help from government.

Marv Knox

President Trump’s new budget proposal would slash the federal government’s safety net programs by $1 trillion across the next decade. So, congregations could have the opportunity of a generation to prove their gracious generosity is sufficient.

But the stakes are high, of course.

Evangelical Christians provide the core of the president’s base, and people will identify them with the results of the Trump presidency. Consequently, when people free-fall after the president removes their safety net, if the evangelicals who propelled him to office don’t help out, people who only know Christians by their actions will give God the blame.

Three scenarios

Christians who touted their faith as a reason for backing Trump’s “Make America Great Again” campaign have put God on trial, with two ways to win and one way to lose.

• Win Scenario 1: Trump is correct, and his budget works.

His plan doesn’t merely balance the budget, but also wildly stimulates the economy, brings coal back in vogue, reopens industrial jobs and ensures near-zero unemployment with good-paying jobs. People don’t need a safety net, because they’re getting by on their own.

Beyond that, they feel better about themselves—“great,” even—because they’re working and making their way. Christians helped Trump win; life is good; God is great.

• Win Scenario 2: Trump is not correct, but the church saves the day.

The federal safety net shreds, but the church shows up on time. Christian benevolences of all kinds flourish. The church feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, houses the homeless. Christians provide so much money to their hospitals and health clinics, even people who cannot afford insurance can receive highly specialized and expensive cancer treatment, surgery and every other medical need.

Christians sacrificed to take care of others, who thrived because of their loving benevolence. God gets the glory for their gracious spirits. America experiences a revival it has not seen in many generations.

• Lose Scenario 1: Trump is not correct, and the church fails to show up.

The federal safety shreds, just as the president has planned. Meals on Wheels collapses. Parents can’t find work, and so they not only can’t bring home a paycheck, but they can’t meet the president’s stringent requirements for supplemental assistance. Their children go hungry. Their older cousins can’t continue their education because they can’t get student loans. Other calamity ensues.

Meanwhile, the church continues its current course. Less than 20 percent of members tithe, and congregations spend most of the money they take in on themselves, particularly buildings and staff. Food pantries and clothes closets can’t keep up with burgeoning need. Health clinics meet only a fraction of the demand. Expensive care from hospitals is out of the question.

Hurting people—the chronically ill, children, the elderly, even veterans—suffer without alleviation, either from the government or from the church. They can do math, and they realize 81 percent of evangelicals put the president in office. And now their safety net is gone. They can see the landscape, and they don’t see nearly enough congregations even trying to knit a new one. You can understand why they blame God. Either way they look at it—politically or religiously—Christian people did them in.

Churches & safety nets

So, God’s reputation is at stake. And just in case the president’s new budget doesn’t do the trick and stimulate the economy so nobody needs a safety net, Christians better get busy building a bunch of them.

This is what many Christians have said they will do. For years, they have responded to pleas for support for government safety nets with a consistent reply: “It’s the church’s job.”

So, now we’ll see if the church is sufficient to the challenge. To this point, no one has documented even one congregation that has been able to do its share to meet the needs of its community in place of government aid. To this point, the debate has been relatively hypothetical. But now we have a president who wants to shred the safety net to the tune of $1 trillion.

Two options

The church faces two options:

First, live up to the promise of Jesus’ admonition about ministering to “the least” as recorded in Matthew 25. Prepare to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, take in the stranger, clothe the naked, heal the sick, look after the prisoner. The president—along with many governors and legislators—don’t want to do it. So, it’s the church’s chance. Business as usual won’t get it done. Meeting the mammoth need will require individual sacrifice of First Century proportions.

But think of the possibilities: Out of such calamity could come the greatest opportunity for evangelism in centuries. If government says, “Not my job,” and Christians say, “We’re more than happy to do it in Jesus’ name,” then that name will be glorified.

Second, the church also can take seriously Jesus’ mandate to be “salt and light.” In addition to what we do on our own, we can be advocates in our culture for the greater good. We can demand our society as a whole care for the most vulnerable among us. We can both model and set a high bar of expectation for compassion. And we also can do that in Jesus’ name, and he will get the glory.

The president has proposed a budget. What’s next?

Follow Marv on Twitter: @marvknox

Recent conversations have burned poignant impressions onto my spirit. They reflect an issue we’d rather not acknowledge: People who walk away from faith—or at least from the faithful—late in life.

Marv Knox

American Christians have made a huge fuss over the increasing proportion of our population called Nones, who claim no religious affiliation or faith identification. But my conversations focused on friends more accurately considered Dones, who followed Jesus most of their lives but now are done with Christ, or at least his church.

That final distinction is important, because I’m not so sure my friends are as jaundiced about Jesus as they are fed up with his followers.

In one case, my friend still maintains a relationship with Christ but, for the most part, is repelled by Christians and their churches. In the other case, my friend has just about dropped out of church completely and is “not so sure about the Jesus thing,” but still seems interested in an authentic community of Jesus’ followers, if only she could find one.

New twist on ongoing trend

The mid- to late-life trend away from church has been going on at least as long as Baby Boomers have been reaching mid- to late-life. Ever the consumers, many thousands of Boomers used the church to help them raise their kids. Churches that emphasized excellent facilities and programming for children and youth reaped great rewards.

But when the final teen graduated from high school, Mom and Dad graduated from church. Free from ongoing parental constraints, they began traveling on weekends. Maybe it started with a quick getaway, or perhaps a trip to see the kids in college. Soon, they lost the habit of participating in church. Besides, they already got what they thought they needed.

That’s a practical, utilitarian loss. The parents traded regular attendance, and maybe even decent investment and supportive leadership in the church, in return for getting Bubba and Missy through high school in relatively decent shape. Transaction over.

Deeper, tragic

What I’m concerned about is deeper, and it feels more tragic. This is the loss of faithful, thoughtful people whose Christian faith, at least at one time, centered their lives—such as my friends. Now, they may be conflicted about Jesus, but they’re certain they don’t want to be constrained by Christians.

While I would be sad if this only happened to my friends, I wouldn’t be broadly concerned. But it’s more widespread. Many pastors can name the formerly faithful who just walked away. They decided not to be part of the fellowship anymore. Maybe they still care about a relationship with Jesus; maybe they don’t. (For the record, this does not include homebound who would attend if only they were able.)

Taking a toll

Why this happens is as unique and individualized and, frankly, as random as the former believers themselves. So, generalizations may not help much, but here are some observations ….

First, the effects of aging accumulate, whether it happens to cars or people. The dents, dings, scratches, and wear and tear add up. For vehicles, those literally are dents, dings, scratches, and wear and tear. For people, they are heartaches, disappointments, tragedies, illnesses and shortcomings. They take their toll—physically, emotionally and, eventually, spiritually.

Some people see God working through all the challenges and obstacles of life. For them, setbacks lead to perseverance, which refines and strengthens their faith. But other people sense God’s absence during such episodes. And so every incident of devastation deepens their level of doubt. Eventually, they’re so far down a spiritual hole, they can’t see any light.

Similarly, some folks can’t get over other people. Often, it’s easy to confuse Jesus with his followers. We talk about the church being the Body of Christ. We talk about being the presence of Christ in the world. But even though we’re redeemed, Christians still are people. Human, fallible, weak, sinful people. We mess up, and when we do, we hurt people. And some see this as God hurting people, God letting people down.

Hypocrisy is an example of this. But so is heartlessness. Rigidity and rule-following for rule’s sake. Sanctimony and overt piety. And the simpler, but no less cruel, slights of ignorance, selfishness, guile, gossip and cold standoffishness.

Lousy contrast

Also, people walk away when the church contrasts poorly with the rest of the world. This bumps up against social issues that dominate discussion these days. Quite often, the church plays the hard-hearted older brother to the world’s prodigal son. No sense of empathy, just judgmentalism. No expression of joy, only disdain.

So, sensitive Christians who have been part of church and immersed in its culture for decades find themselves embarrassed and ashamed—for and by their fellow Christians. They get tired and ask why they want to be associated with such an outfit anymore. And they walk away.

This tragedy does not lend itself to simple solutions. We could hope a lifetime of Christianity would provide all of Jesus’ followers with the resources to withstand onslaughts to faith. But we live in a broken world, and that’s not always the case.

Loss of faith late in life should remind us not to take one another for granted. We need each other, and we need to walk alongside each other, especially in the hard, dispiriting times.

We need to look out for the lonely and alone, even in our midst. We must pray for eyes to see, because looking past them is easier than seeing them. To use a biblical image, the sheep who get separated from the flock are most susceptible to getting lost or being attacked by predators.

We must labor to live our faith authentically and to insist on integrity and transparency from one another. Putting a cosmetic cover over faulty faith to show a pretty face to the world is dishonest. But it also does irreparable harm to those inside the church, who see behind the façade and grow to doubt the authenticity of any manifestation of faith.

Mostly, we must practice compassion and care for one another. We all need the love of faithful, tender hearts, the care of Christians who put others before self.

Follow Marv on Twitter, @marvknoxbs