A pleasant sunny, muggy Hawaiian morning that smelled of seawater and steel.
A miserable blustery, rainy Wyoming afternoon that smelled of snow and mud.
One caused the other. And it could happen again.
Two summers ago, my family visited Pearl Harbor, just west of Honolulu. We’ve all read about the infamous attack time and time again, and I knew a lot about Pearl Harbor. I could name all the battleships on Battlefield Row, knew the timelines, and understood the multipronged attack that lured the United States into World War II. When I stood on the USS Arizona Memorial, gazing at the ghostlike shell of a ship just below the water, when my 5-year-old daughter spotted oil rainbows in the water, I could, for a moment, hear the explosions and the planes and the screams of pain and death and smell the smoke and the blood. When the attack ended, 2,471 American servicemen and civilians had died, another 1,213 were wounded, and Pearl Harbor had become a national shrine for the American fallen of all our wars.
Then, this past October, I visited Heart Mountain Relocation Center, between Cody and Powell in northwestern Wyoming. Built in the months after Pearl Harbor, during the desperate first months of a war we were losing, Heart Mountain detained almost 14,000 Japanese Americans during its more than three years of operation. A shameful part of American history, these Americans weren’t given the option to relocate to Heart Mountain or the other relocation centers scattered across the western half of the country. They were forcibly moved. The centers provided some measure of home; students continued their education, a hospital offered medical care, and semblances of community such as a camp newspaper and dances were allowed. But the 650 barracks were abysmal, the camp prisonlike. The early winter weather the day I visited made it far too easy to imagine the Wyoming wind tearing through the cracks in the poorly built barracks far too easy. Residents had some freedom within the walls, but let there be no doubt: those residents were interred, held against their will.
Just as there’s not much of the devastation left at Pearl Harbor, there’s not much of Heart Mountain left, either. A guard tower stands near the highway turnoff, and there are a few old barracks, the hospital’s chimney, and a short footpath with plaques detailing life at the camp. When the camps closed in the months following the V-J Day, most Americans went on as though internment had never happened. Most of the Heart Mountain camp has been erased from existence, and I assure you I never learned about internment in history classes.
Pearl Harbor caused Heart Mountain.
And if we’re not careful, the ongoing persecution of Islamic Americans may yet cause another roundup of Americans who look different from those in power, who have beliefs different from the majority of Americans (or, more likely, a vocal minority) but who still share a belief in justice and equality and freedom. That another Heart Mountain could possibly occur, unthinkable not too long ago, is a horrifying shift in American politics. In these xenophobic times, it is our obligation as people of faith, as people urged to love the strangers among us, as people who follow Jesus who was a refugee as a child and oppressed and executed by a foreign empire, to keep that from happening again.
News outlets often describe the standoff between the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and Energy Transfer Partners, developers of the North Dakota Access Pipeline, as contest between the water rights of indigenous peoples and the energy needs of the nation. This is a false and misleading characterization of the conflict.
People of faith have understood from the beginning that for the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe the deeper issues are Native sovereignty, treaty rights, and religion. Religion for many Native peoples is land-based, and Native spirituality is bound to the land, making sacred places set aside for human remembrance such as burial grounds. For the Great Sioux Nation, to be a Sioux is to care for Mother Earth.
The centrality of land for Native spirituality was recognized by the United States with the enactment of the American Indian Religious Freedom Act of 1978. This law calls upon the government to “protect and preserve for Native Americans their inherent right to freedom of belief … and to worship through ceremonies and traditional sites.”
In October Churches Uniting in Christ, eleven denominations in covenantal relations, joined the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and other indigenous peoples to support tribal sovereignty, water, cultures, way of life, and sacred sites, citing the centrality of land to Native peoples and Native religious practices
On November 4, 524 clergy representing many denominations responded to a call put forth by Reverend John Floberg, an Episcopal priest who has been serving the Standing Rock Sioux people for 25 years, to come to Cannon Ball, North Dakota, for a time of prayer and to be in solidarity with the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe. The clergy who gathered used the occasion to ceremonially burn a copy of the Doctrine of Discovery, a policy used to justify the confiscation of Indian lands, the destruction of Indian cultures, and the taking of Indian lives.
One month later, with protesters facing an order from the North Dakota governor to leave their encampment before the harsh winter sets in, more than 1,000 communities around the world joined an Interfaith Day of Prayer. People of many faiths came together to pray with and to pray for the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and the Water Protectors. That same day, the Army Corps of Engineers denied a key permit needed to finish construction, a major victory for the water protectors. Whether that victory will end the debate, rerouting the pipeline away from Standing Rock, time will tell.
These prayers and the ongoing vigilance of the faith community is greatly needed. North Dakota Governor Dalrymple called the Army Corps of Engineers decision “a serious mistake.” The Morton County Sheriff’s Department pledged to “continue to enforce the law.” Energy Transfer Partners has pledged to complete the present pipeline.
Christians from many denominations are showing strong support for the religious rights of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe. We must stand in deep solidarity now and in the coming year.
This summer I attended a trade show for Christian publishers and retailers. When I entered the display floor, I was amazed – and, frankly, appalled – at the size and expense of some of the displays. Convention floor space is never cheap, and displays are ridiculously expensive. Lots and lots of marketing dollars were being spent in that display hall on what struck me as frivolous, wasteful spending.
Then I realized: The big spenders were for-profit publishers trying to make money for investors. And the idea that people are making money off of other people’s faith turned my stomach a bit. I couldn’t help but think of Jesus and the moneychangers.
CBP/Chalice Press is different. We are a non-profit corporation, a charity, a ministry. Our revenues are reinvested into our company, our products, and our employees. We have no stockholders to satisfy.
Though we are affiliated with the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), we do not receive one copper penny of financial support from the denomination. We do not approach congregations, organizations, or individuals for donations. We make nearly all of our money from selling our products and services.
Today, Giving Tuesday, is the only time this year we will ask you to consider making a tax-deductible gift to support our ministry. Every dime you give goes directly to the development, publication, and distribution of resources that invite all people into deeper relationship with God, equip them as disciples of Jesus Christ, and send them into ministry as the Spirit calls them. We are careful and accountable stewards of financial resources in our care. You may find many details about our governance and management at guidestar.org.
More than that, we believe now more than ever that progressive Christians need to have a voice in society’s heated discussions on inclusion, privilege, race, gender identity, and multifaith cooperation. We want to proclaim the messages of 21st-century prophets to a broken world desperate for good news.
This ministry depends financially on the people and congregations who buy what we publish and the donors who believe in what we do. This work depends on you.
You can donate through ChalicePress.com, either directly or when you make a purchase. You can also choose to mail a donation to CBP/Chalice Press, 483 E Lockwood Avenue, Suite 100, St. Louis, MO 63119.
We are grateful for the work we do, the people we work with, and the customers we serve. Thank you for your support.
President and Publisher
We give our nation’s military service members the training they need to accomplish their missions during deployment, but what resources await them back home? Church congregations play a unique and vital role in the reentry and reintegration process post-deployment. Rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn… In all seasons of life and with all that life entails, our congregations have resources to engage challenges and make the most of opportunities. Post-deployment reentry and reintegration presents many challenges and opportunities. Will we answer the call to work along side our nation’s veterans and their families?
Here are 10 things to remember when ministering to our veterans:
- Reaching out to our nation’s veterans and their families is not charity.
- Ministry with veterans and their families is not about helping them; it’s about how we can help each other.
- The only way to know something about military service, is to know someone who has served.
- Military service can mean a lot of different things to a veteran, so ask.
- Veterans aren’t the only ones serving our nation; military families make sacrifices every day. Their courage and resilience too often go unnoticed and unacknowledged.
- Veterans deserve more than medical care, they deserve meaningful opportunities to continue to serve this nation at home.
- PTSD is sometimes called an invisible injury, but its impact on veterans and military families is evident to all those with the eyes to see.
- Being in trustworthy relationship with a veteran isn’t about knowing all about his/her problems, it’s about knowing yourself, and showing up authentically, compassionately, and persistently.
- Military deployments are stressful, but there is a lot of stress after deployments too.
- Your church doesn’t need to be a mental health clinic; your church needs to be church.
Rev. Dr. Zachary Moon, Ph.D., is the author of Coming Home: Ministry That Matters with Veterans and Military Families, available HERE.
Last Friday night, Terence Crutcher was shot and killed by a Tulsa police officer. On Sunday morning, we sat in worship. On Monday afternoon, there were press conferences and video. And questions, still: What if? Where was? Who should? Why don’t? When will?
And in between? Sitting there – at home, in worship, in my office – in between Friday and Monday, all I could think was: It’s really quiet.
And maybe it should be. Maybe … before we run the compassion gauntlet in an effort to be the first to speak, the definitive word, the declarative voice, the One Who Will Be Heard … maybe we should be quiet, at least for a minute.
Maybe, when it is not our experience, when we do not entirely know, when we cannot even imagine, maybe sitting and being quiet and listening to the voices that need to rise, that come in pain, that wail in agony, that cry out for understanding – from every direction and every place … maybe THAT is where God’s voice can be most clearly heard.
… something is very, very wrong: And if it’s wrong for one of us, then it’s wrong for all of us. – says the pastor
… This beautiful child just told me that he skips and smiles while he is walking home so that he will look less threatening to [white] people. – says the mother
… It hurts my heart more than yours when you accuse me of anything less than simply wanting to make sure my words are articulate, and accurate when using them. – says the officer
… There is simply no easy fix to be found here; there is just challenging and uncomfortable and deeply important work that we must engage in to build a better Tulsa for ourselves and for our children. I believe in Tulsa. – says the educator
And after Friday night, and Sunday morning, and Monday afternoon: On Wednesday evening, sitting in between colleagues and friends and strangers of every tradition, and neighborhood, and hue … maybe it was good to listen some more to the songs sung and prayers prayed and challenges issued and laments shouted and mourned. Sitting in between those hundreds of people, in the beautiful worship center at Metropolitan Baptist Church, it was not hard to hear: but it was terribly hard to listen. And painful to listen. And heartbreaking to listen. And for many, it has probably been heart-hardening to listen.
It is not, as some have suggested (particularly in comparison to Charlotte this week), that Tulsa is ‘better’ or ‘doing it right.” We are doing it how we do it. We build relationships in between so that when the time comes – even when the time comes too often, and far more often than we would like – when the time comes to sit and be together, we can sit and be together. We hate to have to keep showing up to mourn, but we are honored to keep showing up for our friends and our neighbors and our leaders and our children and our communities. To advocate for change; to commit again (and again and again and as many agains as we need) to be new and renewed in our hope; to mourn with those who mourn and to let that mourning come. Maybe that seems too little, but it can never be too late.
Maybe it is wise for us to practice the discipline of a Holy Saturday … that sitting, and waiting, in between the crucifixion and the resurrection. It is NOT inaction. It is active listening. It is intently considering what WE are NOT saying. Maybe it is in that silence … when we don’t know what to say, and when we shouldn’t be the ones saying it anyway … maybe that is where God is most readily heard: in the cries of God’s people, in the stones crying out: That we might hear, and listen, and THEN act, and be most faithful.
Twenty-something years ago I was a police and fire reporter. Fresh out of college, I worked for two Oklahoma newspapers: first in a mostly rural county of about 30,000 residents and then in Edmond, my upper-class suburban hometown. I spent mornings reading police and fire reports, talking to the police department spokesperson, occasionally calling the families of those who had died or who clung to life. I got to know the officers I met each morning, and we built a cordial, professional relationship. We never went out for drinks after work, but I never feared being pulled over by one of them during a traffic stop.
During my time in Edmond, I had the misfortune of covering two fatal shootings by police in the course of about a month. I forget which came first, but one involved two police officers in the woods firing 13 shots at a naked, intoxicated suspect. I think he was Hispanic. The other shooting resulted when a suspect, high on inhalants carrying a baseball bat, charged the officer. I think he was white. 1
After the second shooting, I had the so-called audacity to ask publicly if the police department had a shoot-first-ask-questions-later problem. In a time before tasers became standard-issue, I asked whether pepper spray should have been used instead. This challenge of authority didn’t sit well with the spokesperson I talked to each morning. He and the police chief thoroughly lectured me that the cardinal rule of use-of-force is to keep the upper hand on suspects. To an extent, I understand why police are trained to use necessary force before somebody uses it on them. When dealing with people consciously breaking the law or who are mentally ill or chemically altered, they are not making good decisions. Police officers, more than anyone else, know lives are on the line, especially theirs. We thank them for their courage, for doing what we cannot.
But goodness gracious, these are hard times to be a cop in America. Not only because American policing is so militarized. Not only because training is outdated. Not only because mental health services for police are insufficient for the demands of the job and using mental health services is scorned by an uber-tough culture. Not only because there are more guns on the streets. Not only because violence is gaining tacit, silent approval from the powers that be. Not only because racism is getting bolder and more aggressive in its violent manifestations. Not only because the income disparity makes the poor poorer and more willing to take desperate measures. Not only because politicians want to look tough on crime so they overprosecute the financially vulnerable to feed the prison-industrial complex. Not only because politicians knowingly drive wedges between races and classes as a way to mobilize their base.
I can’t help but think that in 2016, the hardest factor for any socially conscious police officer has to be how race figures into law enforcement – and the worst-case scenario of having to fire shots. Over the past two years, since the deaths of Eric Garner in Staten Island and Michael Brown in Ferguson, the relationship between police and people of color is under tremendous scrutiny – as it should be.
Let’s be perfectly clear here: People of color in this country are living – and dying – under undeclared martial law.
People of color – not whites like me – are living and dying under undeclared martial law. I know it’s highly unlikely that I, a middle-aged suburban white guy, will have to deal with a police officer drawing a gun on me, due only to the fact that I’m a middle-aged suburban white guy. White privilege is on full display right here.
Cops know that people of color are justifiably angry. Keith Lamont Scott, Terence Crutcher, Philando Castile, Alton Sterling, Sandra Bland, Walter Scott, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, a million other injustices – who can blame people of color for being scared of law enforcement? The lack of trust makes both the officer and the citizen even edgier when engaged in a law-enforcement situation. The odds of an altercation rise immediately.
Our Wild West mentality toward guns only makes it worse for both the cop and for people of color when their paths cross. Loosening gun laws means police are now far more likely to assume people are carrying guns (and they probably are) and instinctively react based on that assumption. Lawmakers do police officers no favors by loosening gun laws despite opposition from the law enforcement community. If politicians support law and order, why are they betraying the people entrusted by our society to carry it out?
How do we break this horrific cycle? How do we reduce violence, build trust, and find common ground?
Fact of the matter is, fewer and fewer people know how to do it – and the so-called leaders in American society don’t appear to give a damn. That means politicians, and that means the voices of faith as well. Across the political and theological spectrum, the increasing polarization of American society portrays compromise as a vice, and listening to the opinions of others a weakness. That trickles down into the way we treat each other each day. We don’t listen to each other, our relationships crumble, we hurt each other and ourselves. We allow the love for our fellow humans and the world around us to decay. We quit thinking, we shut down emotionally, and we live hollow lives. Yes, we are physically safer for it, but are we morally or ethically better for our isolation and emptiness?
Clearly there is not an easy answer. But it is our duty as followers of Christ, of a man who called for us to reconcile a broken world, to turn the other cheek, to seek justice, to represent the oppressed – it is our God-given duty to try. We are called to be reconcilers, to hear others, to facilitate the exchange of ideas, and then to put the best ideas to the test. And if we have to try one hundred thousand different ways, and all but one of them fails, it will have been worth the effort.
Where shall we start?
Introducing a 25-part series on how to reduce police brutality following the deaths of Alton Sterling and Philander Castile by Shaun King, New York Daily News
Pre-Post-Racial America: Spiritual Stories from the Front Lines by Sandhya Rani Jha
Ferguson and Faith: Sparking Leadership and Awakening Community by Leah Gunning Francis
Forward Together: A Moral Message for the Nation by William J. Barber II and Barbara Zelter
Towards the “Other America”: Anti-Racist Resources for White People Taking Action for Black Lives Matter by Chris Crass
Reconciliation Ministry of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
1 The articles I wrote for the Edmond Sun are no longer online, so forgive me if I misremember a specific detail.
Brad Lyons’ opinions are not necessarily those of the Christian Board of Publication, its imprints, authors, or other affiliates.
I urge Christians and all people of good will to stand in deep solidarity with the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, their First Nation allies, and the many others who have joined them in their effort to permanently block the North Dakota Access Pipeline. The decision of the Departments of Justice, Army, and Interior to temporarily stop construction is a direct result of the actions of these “stewards of the earth” who have taken a courageous stand to protect the sovereignty of Native Americans and our environment.
Many Protestant denominations have apologized to Native Americans for their participation in the long history of our nation’s efforts to assimilate or exterminate Indigenous Peoples. Some denominations have renounced the Doctrine of Discovery—a legal fiction couched in quasi-religious sentiments that gave European kings a right to conquer foreign lands and is now the basis for U.S. control of Native lands. Most denominations have called for an end to the public use of images and logos that demean and degrade tribal people. Now is the time to take the next step and stand with the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe.
David Archambault II, Standing Rock Sioux Chairman, addressed a letter to “all Native American Tribes in the U.S. and to all Indigenous Peoples of the world,” on August 25, 2016, in which he wrote: “We all have a responsibility to speak for a vision of the future that is safe and productive for our grandchildren.” In this same letter he quoted Chief Sitting Bull of the Hunkpapa Lakota, who once said: “Let us put our minds together and see what life we can make for our children.” When President Obama spoke to the 20th Annual Environmental Summit on August 31, 2016, he quoted a Washoe tribal leader: “What happens to the land also happens to the people.” The president has invited tribes to a formal government-to-government consultation on infrastructure.
If completed, the proposed 1,172-mile pipeline will carry nearly a half million barrels of crude oil from the Bakken fields in North Dakota through South Dakota and Iowa to Patoka, Illinois, where it will be linked to another pipeline. Proponents of the pipeline promise that during the construction phase it will create 8,000 to 12,000 jobs. Craig Stevens, a spokesperson for MAIN Coalition, a group supporting the pipeline, is quoted as saying that a delay in construction could have “a long-lasting and chilling effect on private infrastructure development in the United States.” Other advocates for the pipeline suggest that the actions of the Obama administration are a “temporary halt” to the project, which may be completed under a new administration.
The National Congress of American Indians put the development of the Dakota Access Pipeline in a historical context when they called it “another chapter in a long history of constructing hazardous pipeline routes through tribal lands without respecting tribal sovereignty.”
The immediate concern for the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe is protection of Lake Oahe, a primary source of water for the tribe and people and communities downstream who rely on the Missouri River. The larger but no less important concern is respect of the rights and sovereignty of Native Peoples. Deep solidarity, a phrase coined by Joerg Rieger, is rooted in an understanding that we are all in the same boat. We share the same earth and water. Given that many Protestant denominations have already renounced past efforts to assimilate or exterminate Native Peoples and repudiated the Doctrine of Discovery, it is time for us to stand in deep solidarity with the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe. “Let us put our minds together and see what life we can make for our children.”
We’re in publishing. We believe in words. By basis of location, we are an American publisher, and we believe freedom of speech is a fundamental right. By basis of mission, we are also a Christian publisher. Our mission is to invite all people into deeper relationship with God. We want to allow people to comment on our social media posts, but lately some of those post have been personal attacks more than constructive criticism or reasoned arguments.
Last week, in the wake of the horrific shootings in Baton Rouge, St. Paul, and Dallas, we posted a link to an interview with one of our authors who helped organize the Dallas protest. Suddenly we saw comments like we’d never seen before—angry, accusatory words that attacked the author and Chalice Press. We’ve had pushback, criticism, and even a little hate before, but these comments seemed incendiary.
Censorship is not our style. We publish provocative works—works to stir and maybe make the reader uncomfortable with their current mindset—that we believe will fulfill the great commission. “And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” We are careful with our editing because we don’t want to censor the writer’s voice.
So what does an American, Christian publisher do about divisive, angry comments on its Facebook page or Twitter feed? We have a bottom line. We need to sell books in order to continue our ministry. It would be easy to assuage those folks by allowing their comments to remain, to assure them their comments are valid and that we’ve heard/read them. To “save the sale,” as it were.
But our ministry is publishing books to call people to greater knowledge of God, which we believe to be bringing justice and peace to all God’s children. We would not publish a book with the vitriol and hatred espoused in some of the comments on our posts. Why allow it on our social media feeds?
One of our upcoming books is Better: Waking Up to Who We Could Be, by Melvin Bray. Better’s premise is, what if we could change the world by telling better stories? That is what Better, and Executing God, and Available Hope, and Unified We Are a Force, and (we believe) all our books are attempting to do—to change the world by telling stories of faith to create a more just world for all of God’s creation. They are provocative and progressive and prophetic.
To those posting comments which are really personal attacks: We know you believe you walk in the righteous path. Freedom of speech makes that righteous path wide and varied. Freedom of religion — as well as Jesus’ words as a call to love our God and our neighbors — means we work to ensure there is room for everyone on that path, and that we are all welcome to join in the journey.
K.J. Reynolds is the Marketing and Public Relations Coordinator for Chalice Press.
“This book is an invitation for us to listen, with God, to the cries of those who labor.” —Shane Claiborne, Author and Activist
Few of us are fans of unbridled uncertainty.
Oh sure, there are exceptions. Game Seven. Jon Snow: Dead or alive?¹ Tonight’s winning numbers.² But the impact of those gambles on our own lives are generally quite limited. Whether a team wins or loses, whether a fictional character lives or dies, most likely won’t impact the next days. It’s manageable chaos. Most of us appreciate having our affairs in order, know how the day will probably turn out, and look forward to that bit of manageable chaos with our kids’ sports or binge-watching.
Chaos, uncertainty, and I have had a rough relationship over the last few years, and this week was marked by an hour of horrific uncertainty. At 10:50 Wednesday morning, my cellphone rang with a call from the school district my kids attend. It was a robocall, but it was flagged as an emergency phone call. They were informing us the high school was in lockdown and that the other schools had locked the doors and weren’t letting anybody in. That was all they could tell us. Uncertainty.
I quickly texted my sophomore son, “You guys are on lockdown?” An uncomfortable amount of time passed before he responded, “Yup.” I read that as nonchalant. I read that as “can’t say much right now.” I read that in the mindset of a parent in the post-Columbine days, and my pulse shot up. Uncertainty.
Once a journalist, always a journalist. I understood why the school district couldn’t tell us more — they believed they had an active threat and were working the problem, and sometimes too much information can be problematic in an investigation. But I immediately jumped on social media to see what the scuttlebutt was, knowing full well that the information had a high chance of being unreliable. What was true? Unknowable.
Damn the uncertainty.
For an hour I sat at my desk, reloading the district’s social media feeds, looking at local news websites, hoping for the best. Two more calls came from the district telling us they didn’t have much to tell us. Finally, almost an hour later, they tweeted that the lockdown was over and that the school day was resuming as usual. I exhaled, a bit, relieved that whatever had triggered the lockdown hadn’t come to a violent manifestations. My son and I talked about it that evening, and his biggest complaint was the boredom of being in a dark classroom for an hour. May he never feel the anxiety I felt this morning.
The uncertainty in life. It kills us slowly sometimes, and we want it to end as quickly as possible. Rip off the bandage. Tell me the bad news first. Text me when you get there so I know you’re OK. A terrible side effect of the Information Age is when we find ourselves cut off from information. We are alone, abandoned, forgotten.
Here’s the catch: As a Progressive Christian, my faith lives in the uncertainty. Living this life means accepting ambiguity, appreciating the gray patches that fills our lives, and frequently admitting to ourselves and those with the courage to ask that we don’t know the answer — and that we may never know the answer.
Yet despite which choice we make, there’s always somebody saying there’s only one way to read scripture. Funny how that person usually disagrees with us, isn’t it? Chaos versus order, ambiguity versus certain, my way or the highway.
Must be nice, having the answers to the quiz. Except there’s not necessarily one answer.
At Chalice Press, we get our fair share of criticism from the conservative side of the church. Despite our feisty tendencies, usually we let it roll off our backs, chuckle amongst ourselves “he didn’t read our Company Profile,” and move on. But we approach our books and our ministry this way: We strive to ask the right question, then to give our response an option, a suggestion — but not an answer. We don’t dare claim we speak for God.
We Progressive Christians look at scripture and read between the lines, discovering the layers of interpretations in the words translated over the centuries and presented to us in the writing style we find most engaging. We see the morals established by Jesus and try to apply those to our own lives and our own society. We try to live out those morals even when there is a tremendous amount of ambiguity. God is very good most of the time at not giving us any firm signs whether we’re making the right choice or the wrong choice, at letting us make our own decisions and deal with the consequences.
Sometimes, uncertainty is the correct choice. Sometimes, it’s the only choice.
¹ Re Jon Snow: Be honest — we knew all along what the answer would be, right?
² Re the lottery: Be honest — we knew all along what the answer would be, right?