Down to Earth Love

Rachel

Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind.

(Philippians 2:1-2)

Thanksgiving at the Billups' household is an adventure. It's not unusual for us to be gathered with in-laws and out-laws, strangers and friends. With such a diverse group, conversation can get interesting. Because of a deep desire to enjoy our meal, I tend to steer the conversation away from anything that would create an argument — no political banter, zero comments about the current presidential administration, no discussion around the plight of refugees throughout the world, and we promise to refrain from talking about those not present. However, my efforts are not always successful.

Perhaps your family gatherings are not as conversationally exhausting as ours. Even at our house, though, in the midst of all the verbal gymnastics, one thing brings unity, one secret weapon of love: my mother's pie. Nobody argues about my mother's pie — it is her spiritual gift. The pie is always delicious, always baked to perfection. When the conversation gets to the point of no return, I speak these magic words, "Who wants pie?" and suddenly love fills the air. If only we lived in a world where we could negotiate all conflicts with pie.

Pies, Not Cups

I would like to believe that the church is that world. Perhaps you know some folk in your church who use food to negotiate conflicts. That could be the original purpose for the potluck dinner. But when I peer among the four walls of the church, I see the same conversational gymnastics or, worse, the disunity created by argument and debate. Unity may be a clear marker of the church we read about in the New Testament, but it appears that churches in the United States are so concerned with being right, with winning an argument, that the simplest of controversies can send us over the edge. And it would seem there is not enough pie in the world to fix it.

About a year ago my husband, Jon, the kids, and I were waiting outside a movie theater to watch Inside Out. As we waited, we did what every red-blooded American family does when waiting — we played on our smartphones. I was scrolling through Facebook when I noticed that my feed was bombarded with posts about Starbucks and its new red cup. According to some comments, the cup's new design was a slam on Christianity and how we, as followers of Jesus, celebrate Christmas.

I was confused and frustrated. I could feel the cynicism rising up inside of me. Questions began to pour out: "Is this real? What do snowflakes and reindeer even have to do with Jesus?" "Why are we arguing about something as silly as a red cup?" I wanted to set someone straight, to shout out loud, "Is Starbucks even a Christian company?" But I did not respond — and I did not need to, because plenty of folk responded for me. There were arguments for the red cup, against the red cup, and even those who criticized people on both sides.

Could it have been a flash-marketing scheme driven by Starbucks itself? Yes, but even if it was, we fell for it. Why? Because we love to be right. Followers of Jesus are capable of having some pretty heated debates with anyone and everyone who is willing to listen. I am all for a passionate conversation, but is that really what we are engaging in? Or in arguing about things such as red cups, sexual identity issues, who we voted for, and where refugees should go, are we allowing these issues to create dividing lines between us?

These divisions, these arguments, present a devilish distraction. When we think of each other as the enemy and talk at each other with hate, evil wins. At best these arguments present a distraction, and at worst they actually tear us apart. We allow our differences — theological and practical — to tear down the body of Christ.

I believe the world isn't looking for more hate that divides; it is looking for love (that delicious pie) that is approachable and accessible, love that lives right where we are, love that comes right down to earth.

In This Together

I do not know why you are interested in Christianity. You could be reading this book for all kinds of reasons. Perhaps you have grown up in the church your whole life. Perhaps you have been driven to faith in Jesus because of the guilt of bad choices. Maybe you have welcomed children into your household and believe you could use some holy help. Whatever the reason, we as followers of Jesus are in this together. We are following a Jesus who was messy when love came down to earth. Jesus spent his time with religious folk and nonreligious folk, saints and sinners. He loved people who were hard to love. Jesus sacrificed his life for the whole lump of them, for all of us. We are in this together.

At Advent, we step together into a season in the life of the church that is as terrifying and beautiful as waiting for your child to be born. Advent is a spiritual gestation — waiting, preparing, anticipating, at the same time knowing that right here, right now there is life — real life — growing inside of us. We aren't just waiting for an event; we are experiencing a spiritual awakening that has changed, can change, and will change the world forever. I am not asking any of us to pretend we understand everything there is to know about this faith we call Christianity, or to cover up the fact that people who follow Jesus do not always respond to life's challenges and other Jesus followers in civil ways. But Advent is a "down-to-earth" invitation to do a heart check and ask ourselves, "How can I discover and explore what it means to be a down-to-earth people? How can I live Jesus' down-to-earth kind of love?"

When we open the pages of the New Testament, we realize that even the first followers of Jesus argued about red cups. Okay, maybe it wasn't red cups, but early Christians did argue about whether the inside or outside of the cup needed to be clean, when to wash their hands, and whether people were made for the Sabbath or the Sabbath was made for people. They also created dividing lines among themselves. This is not a new temptation or struggle. But in Scripture, we are afforded a glimpse of Jesus' down-to-earth kind of love.

One of the most profound pictures of that love is found in Paul's letter to the Philippians. Philippians is not typically a book of the Bible that churches talk about during Advent and Christmas, but it works well here because this Scripture is all about Jesus coming down to earth. Paul was writing from prison to a group of Jesus followers in Philippi. The followers seemed to have a deep relationship with Paul. Earlier, it had been Paul who had helped this group say yes to following Jesus.

As we read through the letter, we discover that Paul was deeply concerned about how this fledging group of Jesus followers was faring. It seems...