Holding Out for the Heroes…
Today, I began repenting of my cynicism while I folded a gigantic mountain of clothes.
I was listening to a conversation between Diana Butler-Bass, Dan Koch and Tripp Fuller about an upcoming Lenten series about little known saints (you can listen to it here).
They cover a lot of ground, but the part that stood out to me the most was their exploration of what stories will actually compel a culture that is in many ways, iconoclastic (tending toward the critique or even attack of institutions, beliefs, and heroes).
We have a good deal of mistrust of heroes and saints. With good reason in some cases. Whether it’s Jean Vanier from L’Arche, John Howard Yoder in the Mennonite church, principals or celebrities, fraudulent scientists or storytellers, Mars Hill falling or shocking scandals, it’s heart-breaking and horrifying and justifiably deal-breaking in many cases.
And yet, something within us dies when these are the only stories we have (or share) about the community of faith if we continue to participate in it.
And still, the broader culture is holding out for heroes, those with “moral beauty” as Butler-Bass calls it, to stir imaginations and hearts against despair.
One of my favorite shops in town sells tongue-in-cheek candle wraps for modern day “saints.” There are politicians, celebrities, artists, and sit-com stars as the maker of the stickers says, “because sometimes we need to summon remarkable humans to come cheer on us when doing courageous work.”
Now, I understand these are borderline heretical, but what has fascinated me is that they show how the human heart still longs for mystics, makers, and martyrs to remind us of what we could be. And without the church collecting, remembering, retelling, and reenacting the stories of these individuals, Jesus first and foremost but also his risen Body, it will be hard to make a case for faithful living to continue.
Lent is a season of repentance, a season of remembering we are dust and turning our eyes toward the suffering of Christ who came in solidarity. It’s good and right to reflect and lament ways we as humans have strayed from his Way and built institutions and systems that cause so much harm.
I also think, the challenge for me at least, during Lent is the challenge from the podcast conversation: to not just tear down old monuments but then dream what will go up in their places. Who are the heroes I want my children to know and emulate? Who give glimpses of the seeds that can grow when dust becomes good soil?
In no particular order, here is a kaleidoscope of heroes who compel me to keep on following Christ into the wilderness, that cause me to hang on to the beauty of the Christian tradition despite its flaws. They are those whose lives I can’t fully understand but yet cause awe in me. Do I agree with 100% of what each of them shares or believes? No. But I invite you to suspend cynicism long enough with me to marvel at the ways God is still at work in the world.
I’ll share 40 (four groups of ten) because that seems like the Lenten thing to do…
It’s the mothers and grandmothers who marched around Plaza de Mayo during the Dirty War in Argentina, praying and protesting until the world heard what was happening to their sons in the 70s (and who still advocate for their missing grandchildren today)
It’s folks from projects like The Porter’s Gate and The Soil and the Seed Project who are writing new songs and liturgies, blending artistic excellence with communal art making and grounded worship
It’s my friend Sara who has opened her home to two foster boys and who goes to visits and dentist appointments and specialists and loves them with all of her creativity and grit
It’s my friends from college, Matt and Laurie, who share vulnerably about Jesus, suffering, their “impossible marriage” and loving their LGBTQ+ friends
It’s my friend Holly sitting with me in the ER psych hall when I was hysterical with exhaustion from insomnia and anxiety, playing worship music and sitting quietly while I slept a few hours
It’s Dorothy Day laboring ““against a social order which made so much charity in the present sense of the word necessary” and following Jesus’ call to love our enemies
It’s my mentor Kelly Ellis who ministers in Grand Rapids (with whom I did my work study in college) discipling urban youth. I still remember them recite their motto, “I believe God has a plan for my life. I am not an accident, a mistake or unwanted. I am valuable, gifted and talented. God's love for me never ends. I am a child of God .I am a kid of destiny!”
It’s Kelly Latimore creating new icons that feature refugees and Mr. Rogers, James Cone and Christ’s mother
It’s Katie Davis Majors whose book, Kisses from Katie, astounded me, who is a mom of 15 and leader of a wholistic ministry in Uganda
It’s my friend’s Steve and Bethany, a gifted musician and a trained fine-artist and thinker, who instead of pursuing these avenues (for now!), slog through homeschool and visas and life in rural Thailand because they find God’s work among the nations to be beautiful and God’s church worthwhile
It’s Lucy Simms teaching 1,800 people over three generations, faithfully leading in our community and changing countless lives with education amidst segregation and inequality
It’s psychologists like Dr. Allison Cook and Dr. Kimberly Miller who combine science and faith and invite Jesus into the world of our minds and emotions
It’s Mary Oliver writing poems to remind us not to stop seeing glimpses of God and glory in every blade of grass, to never stop being astonished
It’s Kayla Craig writing modern liturgies for parents, raising kids with medical and educational needs, advocating for Jesus’ upside-down kingdom
It’s the educators I know who keep coming to school, who pray over every single seat in their classrooms, who anoint their doorframes with oil and who come to games and Kids Clubs and funerals
It’s Latasha Morrison and her organization Be the Bridge, challenging the church to be racial bridge builders in a polarized world
It’s the folks at Conflict Kitchen making foods from countries the U.S. is in active conflict with, creating spaces for conversations about peacemaking and diversity
It’s the writer of Every Moment Holy writing prayers for bonfires and bedside vigils, giving words to what usually isn’t mentioned in church, both good and bad
It’s North Park Theological Seminary School of Restorative Arts that allows free and incarcerated students to study trauma, Bible, history, and restorative justice together
It’s my Eritrean Orthodox neighbors who have endured decades of conflicts and displacement and who still fast for forty days for Lent and Advent and who have cared for our family after new babies, pandemic separation and seasons of fear
It’s SLAQ in Harrisonburg, an initiative to raise up a diverse community of young people who learn about leadership and the way of Jesus through adventure, service, and crucial conversations
It’s Fred Rogers choosing to be a pastor to a generation of children through the medium of television (this documentary about his life made us weep)
It’s Abigail in the Bible, saving her household and preventing bloodshed with her quick thinking, prophetic words, hospitality, and wile
It’s peacemaking and relief agencies like Preemptive Love Coalition and Mennonite Central Committee doing unbelievably hard work in conflict zones and wakes of disasters
It’s Christians transforming the corners of dying cities in creative and practical ways
Leaders like Eugene Cho who bring us titles like Thou Shalt Not Be a Jerk: A Christian’s Guide to Engaging Politics (2020) and Overrated: Are We More in Love with the Idea of Changing the World Than Actually Changing the World? (2014)
It’s our sister Bonnie who passed away this year. Bonnie who shared with us at Immanuel each week, despite long years of physical and health challenges, that God was and is good
It’s my friend Anton on Zoom with Bible study friends from his home country of Ukraine, encouraging each other across miles and conflict zones
It’s podcasters like The Bible for Normal People and You Have Permission who engage in conversations about faith, science, culture, and doubt, making room for serious inquiry, curiosity and honest conversations
It’s my aunt Gledy who has prayed for her siblings for years and who has tried to understand God and be as faithful as she can be in her corner of the world
It’s young families living in what I’d consider unlivable places, loving their neighbors in cross cultural, transformative ways, fueled by the Holy Spirit
It’s the ones I know who aren’t sure about what they believe any more or if anything good can come from church who still come on Sundays and wrestle for the sake of their children and communities
It’s people who believe that children can be formed by faith and parenting in ways that don’t cause lasting damage (Connected Families and Meredith Anne Miller are two I have learned from gratefully)
It’s my children’s simple belief that they are beloved and created by God, their quick forgiveness of my wrongs, their love for others and surprising reflections on the Bible and theology
It’s publications like Ekstasis or writers like Wendell Berry, Madeleine L’Engle, Marilynne Robinson, Luci Shaw and countless more…mystics that explore worlds—and the Divine—with their words
It’s churches who are caring for urban forests and gardens and creation
It’s chaplains in long voting lines praying at polls in the face of intimidation and polarization
It’s the teaching I received from We are 3DM that gave me language for understanding and explaining God in simple, clear ways
It’s my friend going through chemo who has his Bible next to the bed where he lays after his treatments and who prays over his sons and daughter and wife
It’s the humble and human community that gathers at Immanuel on Kelley Street, artists and students and teachers and nurses and kids and grandparents and everyone in between. It’s our brother Watkins who remembers the birthdays of all of his family members, Hannah who insists we connect by linking our hands with another’s when we shake hers. It’s Phoebe acting a monologue, Shanta sharing her heart, Noah playing his guitar, Violeta grabbing the mic her daddy uses to sing. It’s neighborhood kids kicking soccer balls and asking questions about Jesus and residents who’ve lived in our neighborhood for decades and worship together down the street
This Lenten season, what if we fasted not only from chocolate and social media but from the consumption of only the dark side of what Christians and our heroes have been and can be? What if we lamented the ways the church has caused harm while simultaneously and stubbornly looking for ways it has limped forward in hope? Who would be on your list? I’d love to know which stories make you stay close to the one who entered our story so long ago.
