Fade Away
The impermanence of evil is a comfort
When I was writing my dissertation, one song stayed with me to the point that it ended up in my work.
We need seminaries to develop the abolitionists who can illustrate, and make plain, the clear connection between the exploitations of the powerful and what God says about such behavior. Prathia Hall once proclaimed that “sight to the blind is a disaster to those who exploit blindness.” We need abolitionists who are willing and able to present the words of Isaiah in a manner that speaks truth to power. We need abolitionists who are willing to lovingly rebuke Christian Nationalism as a heresy and participate in activism as a public rebuke of those who are loud and wrong.
I assume that it is a point of frustration for weary Christians and those less anchored in faith that much of our victory in Jesus looks like losing. Its power does not look like what we associate with power. The Apostle Paul writes in 1 Corinthians, “But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong,” yet there are clearly people who are dissatisfied and desire—maybe even need?—a religious practice that looks more like what they associate with strength.
My main question remains, why does this definition of strength have so much meanness? Why is this worldview, and its promise of dominance, so attached to fear? There are people who say that they hate insects. They see a spider and demand the spider to be killed because they “hate” spiders. And while their hatred is evident, it is a mask for their prime emotion. Fear is at the core of all hatred. But it is truly puzzling when you consider the resources, the privilege, the power. What is there to be afraid of?
Maybe the fear is an acknowledgment of the fragility. There is an insecurity because they know that they are not telling the truth. Actual strength does not need to act like this. Actual strength, as demonstrated by the life and witness of Jesus, is founded on love. Love is the perfect antidote to fear because it offers freedom and security. Love assures us that we do not need to worry while fear declares that worry is the only path to safety.
It is an odd time. As absurd as the Christian Nationalist agenda is, I refuse to be flippant about it because people are hurt when we remain indifferent. As it seeks to normalize evil, I remain resolute in publicly rebuking it as evil. This is not a time for hemming and hawing. It is a time for taking care of the margins and modeling love as strength to the mainstream. We must be confident that love is the better way and fear’s grip on power, much like its promises, are fading away.