Jesus is not a conservative

…or a liberal. Or a capitalist or a socialist.

He is not a card-carrying member of the Republican Party or the Democratic Party – or of the Conservative Party of Canada, the Liberal Party of Canada, the Bloc Québécois, or the New Democratic Party.

The One who rode into Jerusalem on a donkey and staggered out of the city carrying a cross is the King whose reign transcends any political affiliations or associations we may hold. The One who rose on Easter Sunday defeated sin and can destroy the barriers that strain the unity of believers who hold to different perspectives.

Believers – people with whom you and I will live for eternity face to face with Jesus in the new heaven and new earth – hold to different political, economic, and social opinions just like I can hold the February 2019 issue of Maclean’s in my hand. That month the editors of Canada’s current Maclean's February 2019 issue with its two coversevents magazine did an ingenious thing: They created two covers – a “tumble edition,” as they called it. One cover boldly asks, “What’s wrong with the Left?” But then you flip the magazine over and the other cover asks with equal audacity, “What’s wrong with the Right?” As Canada’s federal election looms, the editors’ objective was to “to raise the alarm. Both sides of the spectrum are spoiling for a fight to such an extent that nuance, irony, and reasoned debate are at risk.” Reading forward from both sides allowed me to respectfully listen to cogent arguments from the Right and the Left without flippantly or angrily dismissing them or attacking those “on the other side” with my words or actions. Is this not how Christ would have me behave?

But this goes beyond behavior.

While Christians will likely always identify as Right or Left (or perhaps Centrist), I believe this identification should not be my primary way of identifying or labeling myself. I am a follower of Jesus before I am a conservative or a liberal, before I am Canadian, Romanian, Cambodian, Mexican, Dutch, Liberian, or American. If by the way I think or act I make being a Canadian or anything else more central than being a Christian, I am committing idolatry.

I appreciate how my former teacher at Abbotsford Christian School, Trent De Jong, puts it in an article he wrote for Christian Courier earlier this year:

“…Many Christians believe that being Christian goes hand in hand with being conservative or being liberal. This is plain wrong. If we follow the Jesus of the Bible, we will find ourselves uncomfortable on either end of the spectrum.”

We’re uncomfortable at either pole because we realize that neither are sufficient to completely express who we are in Christ.

Frankly, sometimes my loyalty to Jesus puts me in the Right camp when, for example, it comes to recognizing the intrinsic value of individuals from the womb to the tomb (Psalm 139 and 1 Timothy 5 support this). But sometimes my loyalty to Jesus finds me walking alongside those on the Left who, for example, are often the ones advocating for the foreigner, widow, and orphan (Exodus 22 and Matthew 25 quickly come to mind). Similarly, I personally feel those with a more liberal outlook tend to have a better track record at being good stewards of creation and the environment (texts connecting with this include Genesis 1 as well as Mark 16 with its command for the Gospel to impact all creation) while those on the conservative side often seem to be better stewards of my tax dollar (I haven’t tried connecting specific Bible texts to this before but some suggest Leviticus 25 and 2 Thessalonians 3 imply small government and conservative fiscal policies). Overall, Jesus doesn’t let me pin Him down to any one particular political label; perhaps I should be cautious with such labels for myself and others, too.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t be conservative or liberal. I’m not saying you should switch sides or just sit in the middle. What I am humbly asking is that Christians remember that our primary identity is in Christ. Through Christ, God the Father adopts us into His family, makes us citizens of His eternal Kingdom, and fills us with His Holy Spirit. Christ is King ahead of any president or prime minister, ahead of any political, economic, or social philosophy.

I see White Memorial Presbyterian Church in Raleigh, North Carolina, White Memorial Presbyterian Church, Raleigh NCmodeling how to live into this. With a membership of around 4,000 in a city and a state that alternates between voting red and blue, White Memorial Church calls itself a “purple church.” Instead of taking the easy path of finding a church where they can worship only with people just like them, the members take the harder route of seeking community (and civility) within their diversity. And the media noticed.

This Spirit-enabled willingness to listen to and love those who are “other” than you and me demonstrates and strengthens our identity and unity in the crucified and risen Christ. This transcends political, economic, and social labels. It’s how Jesus calls you and me to live. And it’s appealing both for Jesus’ disciples and for people watching us from outside the church.

This piece from NPR gives practical tips about talking politics
with civility: “Keeping It Civil: How To Talk Politics
Without Letting Things Turn Ugly”

Fasting for Lent

Those of us getting tired of winter’s cold grip eagerly welcomed the official start of the season of spring last week. A couple weeks before that we entered the church season of Lent which spans from Ash Wednesday to Resurrection Sunday (a.k.a. Easter). Both seasons are about renewal: In springtime we anticipate longer days, birds returning, flowers coming up, the grass turning green, kids on the playground, and farmers getting in their fields – all reminders of new life. In Lent, we seek renewal and new life in our hearts.

Lent graphic found with Google

To help experience this renewal, Christians often choose to fast during Lent. For some, that means skipping a meal each day; others abstain from a particular food, such as chocolate. I’ve also heard of people choosing to disconnect from social media or turn off the radio in the car. (One of my children volunteered to fast from doing homework, but I don’t think that’s quite the right idea.) Each time you miss the thing from which you are fasting, you choose to focus on God instead. So instead of scrolling through your Facebook feed or hanging out on Snapchat, you choose to read the Bible instead. You treat each growl of your stomach as a call to prayer.

Reading from the prophesy of Isaiah the other day, I was reminded of another kind of fasting, a kind of fasting to which God called his people when their abstaining from food had devolved into an empty ritual, something to just check off the To Do list. Here are some ways I’m being challenged to rethink fasting this season:

“You fast, but at the same time you bicker and fight. You fast, but you swing a mean fist. The kind of fasting you do won’t get your prayers off the ground… This is the kind of fast day I’m after: to break the chains of injustice, get rid of exploitation in the workplace, free the oppressed, cancel debts. What I’m interested in seeing you do is: sharing your food with the hungry, inviting the homeless poor into your homes, putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad, being available to your own families. Do this and the lights will turn on, and your lives will turn around at once.”  Isaiah 58:4, 6-8, Message paraphrase

These sorts of things make skipping a meal suddenly sound a lot easier than before! But when I choose to “fast” in these kinds of ways, I suspect my walk with God will grow closer. It’s not that fasting from food, social media, unjust practices, or a stingy attitude will impress God and save me. It’s more that this sort of fasting will make me more attentive to his presence and plans for me. And that will create a very welcomed kind of renewal in me during Lent that will have an impact long after the season is over.

These reflections appear in today’s Rock Valley Bee.

Make me your manger

Christmas Manger

And she gave birth to her firstborn, a son.
She wrapped him in cloths and placed Him in a manger…
This will be a sign to you:
you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger…
So [the shepherds] hurried off and found Mary and Joseph,
and the baby, who was lying in the manger.

— Luke 2:7, 12, 16


Come, Lord Jesus, make me a place
where you can rest.

Make me a place where others will see you
and find peace and joy.

Make me a place where the empty
will be fed by your presence.

Make me a place where the unimportant
will find their significance as they gaze at you.

Make me a place where lost people
will see the light of your face.

Make me a place where the hardened
will be softened by your tenderness.

Make me a place where the helpless
will find help through your seeming helplessness.

Make me a place that people will forget when they leave,
caught up in the joy of the One who makes his residence in me.

Make me a manger—
of your grace,
your mercy,
and your life.


Thou didst leave thy throne and thy kingly crown
when thou camest to earth for me;
but in Bethlehem’s home was there found no room
for thy holy nativity.
O come to my heart, Lord Jesus—
there is room in my heart for thee.

Heaven’s arches rang when the angels sang,
proclaiming thy royal degree;
but of lowly birth didst thou come to earth,
and in great humility.
O come to my heart, Lord Jesus—
there is room in my heart for thee.
— from Emily E.S. Elliot’s hymn, “Thou Didst Leave Thy Throne”


This was Dale Vander Veen’s daily e-devotional for 21 Dec 2018
which he gracious welcomed me to share with you.
Email dalevanderveen@sbcglobal.net
to receive his daily e-devotions yourself.

It’s ok to cry at Christmas

The story of King Herod killing the baby boys in Bethlehem in his unsuccessful attempt to destroy the newborn King of the Jews might be in the same chapter as the Christmas story in Matthew’s Gospel, but it is rarely told at Christmastime. I’m pretty sure I’ve never sung about it in a Christmas carol nor received a Christmas card with a reference to it. Yet, try as we might to ignore it, there it is told together with the story of the magi (a.k.a. the wise men or “We Three Kings” of whom we like to sing).

Why is such a ghastly story included in the Bible, let alone in our beloved Christmas story? Well, if nothing else, this tragedy illustrates how badly our world needed (and needs) a Messiah. In the pain surrounding death, we need someone to bring life. In the face of arrogance, we need someone to model humility. In the destruction wrought by violence, we need someone to restore peace.

Interestingly, Matthew does not immediately explain why the tragedy in Bethlehem happens. Instead, he provides a lament, quoting the Old Testament prophet Jeremiah: “A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning…” Hearing this cry of pain suggests to me that it’s ok to cry at Christmastime.

Christmas sadness graphic found at verywellhealth.com


It’s not a holly, jolly Christmas for everyone. For some, there’s an empty chair at the table. For others, the battle with depression clouds even the happiest days. In some homes there’s no holiday from the spiteful fighting or cold hostilities between family members or roommates. Countless 20- and 30-somethings dread being asked in yet another social gathering why they aren’t married or don’t have children as though there’s something wrong with them. Around the world, people live in fear even at Christmastime because of corrupt tyrants, food scarcity, or gang warfare. For all of these kinds of people (yourself included perhaps), the Christmas story includes a paragraph with tears. The tragedy in Matthew’s Christmas story gives us permission to tell the truth about the hurt in our lives and in the world. The tragedy in the Christmas story also gives us permission to lament (like Matthew) the pain in our lives and in the world. And in that we begin to find some comfort, healing, and maybe even joy.

I like how John Witvliet, a professor a Calvin College, puts it: “There is no grace in Herod’s heinous act. But there is grace in Matthew’s truth-telling. Matthew is telling us there is no reason why we should avoid the whole story. We tell it as a candid account of what Jesus came to resolve. We tell it to testify that even this terror cannot ultimately thwart God’s purposes.” May God give you grace this Christmas season to both acknowledge the pain in your life and in the world as well as press on to receive the Good News that Jesus’ arrival at Christmas changes everything, making things new and whole while he lovingly holds on tight to you even in – or perhaps especially in – your pain.

These reflections appear in today’s Rock Valley Bee.
They are a summary of what I talked about
at Trinity CRC’s Blue Christmas service last week.

A different sort of king

Palm Sunday cross graphic found via Google

Probably to the surprise of some, Jesus does not arrive in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday riding on a stallion with guns blazing as people might have expected a king to do. Rather, as the church remembers this weekend, he enters on a colt. And his eyes are filled with tears, knowing the trial and death that awaits him. Jesus is a different sort of king than the people are expecting.

Jesus had sent his disciples ahead to fetch the colt and bring it to him. If anyone asked what they were doing with the animal, he instructed them to say the Lord needed it and would return it shortly. In those days kings would not have asked to borrow an animal; a powerful ruler would simply have taken it and added it to his stable. But Jesus is a different sort of king.

As Jesus rides the donkey into Jerusalem, a crowd gathers – ordinary citizens with their children waving palm branches and shouting “Hosanna!” It’s a word that means “Save us!” The crowds probably mean to say “Save us from the Romans occupying our land!” Jesus, however, has his eyes on a bigger enemy than Rome: He is entering Jerusalem to battle sin and death itself. Jesus is indeed a different sort of king.

Looking at the pieces of this story, I can’t help but wonder about the owner of the colt. Did they have any idea who the animal’s rider would be when they loaned it to the disciples?

It reminds me of a 19th century Sunday school teacher in Boston named Kimball who introduced a shoe clerk named Dwight L. Moody to Jesus Christ. Dwight L. Moody became a famous evangelist who influenced someone named Frederick B. Meyer to preach on college campuses. Meyer led someone named J. Wilbur Chapman to the Lord. Chapman, while working with the YMCA, arranged for Billy Sunday to come to Charlotte, North Carolina to attend revival meetings. This led to community leaders in Charlotte scheduling a second revival with someone named Mordecai Hamm. Under Hamm’s preaching, a young man named William gave his heart to Jesus Christ. You knew this man as Billy Graham, who preached to more people than anyone in history. I am certain that that 19th century Sunday School teacher in Boston had no idea what would happen from leading a shoe clerk to Christ.

It’s amazing what can happen when you and I welcome the Lord to work through our lives. I might think I’m just letting someone borrow a colt or that you’re just having a nice conversation with a shoe clerk. But don’t underestimate Jesus’ ability to take little things in life and use them for great purposes. He is ruler over all, yet he knows, loves, and guides you and me individually. What’s more, he had you and me in mind that day as he entered Jerusalem to conquer sin and death. Do you know any other rulers who relate to you like that?

As I said, Jesus is a different sort of king. He’s one worth worshiping this Palm Sunday.

I shared these thoughts in this week’s Rock Valley Bee.

The Infant King

I don’t think I’ve ever associated Psalm 2 with Christmas before. It’s the one where God, enthroned in heaven, scoffs at sinful humanity’s futile attempts to dethrone Him.

This time of year we celebrate the arrival of King Jesus, a King greater than the Herod of His day or any other power or authority back then or since. Countless monarchs and empires have come and gone; things I have enthroned in my heart instead of Jesus have crumbled (or will crumble) into the dust. However, as God’s Son, one with Father, Jesus’ Kingship is secure. He is the ultimate fulfillment of the promise God makes in Psalm 2 to install His King on earth.

King graphic found at rescuehousechurch.org

A poem I read this week in a book of Advent meditations reminds me of all this. Attributed to Daithi Mac Iomaire, it’s simply titled “The Infant King.” It leads me to worship the newborn King – the true King of kings and Lord of lords – this Christmas season.

And in the corridors of power
and in the palaces of hate,
the despot and his lords conspire
this holy threat to liquidate;
yet all the kings that e’re there were
and all the princes of this earth
with all their wealth beyond compare
could not eclipse this infant’s birth.
A million monarchs since have reigned,
but vanquished now their empires vain;
two thousand years, and still we bring
our tributes to the Infant King.