Author: vchininin

The God of Life Creates

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God is the Maker.  He delights in making things.  He spoke into existence oceans and waterfalls, mountains and valleys, trees and flowers, fish and birds, and land animals of all shapes and sizes.  He gave us color, texture, smell, and taste.  He made a banquet of fruits, vegetables, nuts, berries, roots, and more.  These were all of His first creations, but they were not His best.  Oh, no.  He saved the best for last.  He created man and woman in His own image, setting humans apart as the receivers and managers of this world bursting with good gifts – gifts from His loving hand.

“Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.  And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.'” -Genesis 1:26 (ESV)

 

Let’s Face It. We Are All Afraid.

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Victor Chininin Buele

Let’s face it.  We are all afraid.
Scared.
Terrified.
To different degrees.  In different ways.  About different things.
Will we be forever afraid?  Will we let people profit from our fears–economically or politically?

The honorable senator from Vermont and hero of many in our United States just subjected a nominee to a deputy government office to a religious test.  And I feel the weight of what just happened.  And I believe that the reaction that is expected of someone like me is absolute silence.  Either that or conversion.

It can cost too much–trashing my reputation, the loss of employment, unnecessary disagreements, misunderstandings, hurt feelings.

But I fear this one the most: That people won’t actually think about what just happened because emotions and overgeneralizations satisfy our pre-existing bias.  Please don’t stop reading.  You can call me whatever name you want by the end of this article.  I welcome that.  But our love for our neighbors demands that we be serious about this.  I am your neighbor.  I may be your friend.  And I write because I love you.

Silence does two things: (1) silence concedes the point, i.e., that religious tests are valid, and (2) that a Christian can’t and shouldn’t share the good news of Jesus’s gospel, something that is to be heralded — the best news we can give anyone.  News requires an open mouth.  Not a closed one.

Let’s clear the cloud before we begin.  This whole idea of the president’s travel ban has most of us in this country concerned.  These executive orders can certainly be interpreted as a ban that excludes people who are Muslims in a disproportionate way to others.  I can’t obviously comment on whether that is the intent of it or not, since my name is not Donald J. Trump, but we wouldn’t be talking about that if it didn’t quack like a duck.  The argument made in the public square and in the courts has been a simple one–no person should be subjected to a religious test to enter these United States.

Exactly.  And I affirm that.

Stepping into somebody else’s world always demands at minimum a momentary suspension of belief in our ruling assumptions.  I know it’s scary.  And we can’t always do it wholeheartedly.  It’s scary to go down the thinking path of people you disagree with. It’s a running joke that people may not really be able to tell what I believe in by looking at my library because there are just as many works on what I believe as on what I don’t believe.  It is just good epistemology to know both sides of a story.  It is good reasoning not to fight only with straw opponents but to truly get to know your neighbor and their thinking.  It’s all part of that Golden Rule that people like to quote, secularist or not.

The nominee had written something that the distinguished senator did not like.  That should be totally fine.  This country affords its citizens free speech.

It is also perfectly fine for the senator to disagree with that statement.  The senator has the right to think his own mind.

Tolerance means they both get to sit in the same room in Congress.  Both of them get to serve the people of these United States.  One asking questions and the other trying to answer them.  That’s a beautiful thing.  I love that about our country.  Don’t you?

But that’s where the wheels came off the bus.  It seemed like the only valid answer that the senator would accept is, “I don’t know what I was thinking, senator, I must have been insane.  I recant that statement.  Nobody stands condemned.  Ever.  Anywhere.  Let’s scrap the word condemnation from the dictionary.”  Perhaps that’s too much. But you get the point.

Here is the thing.  I believe what this man believes.

And I love Muslims.  A LOT.  Words fail me to describe the depth of my affections to you.

It is certainly possible, regardless of what you may have been told, to love a Muslim and to believe that their theology is deficient.  To love a Muslim and agonize with every fiber of your being for them to come to know Jesus and finally know love and peace.  Forever.  Joy everlasting.

And let’s face it.  You may believe my theology is deficient.  The senator most definitely believes my theology is deficient.

God has made my life cross paths with a very lovable Muslim.  He is so intelligent and creative, brilliant, hard-working, lovable and loving, generous and compassionate, the kind of guy you would want to be your next door neighbor.  When he was in the hospital, people traveled from afar and many, many people stormed that hospital with manifestations of affection and care.  When I come visit, he overflows the table with abundant generosity of delicious foods.  He loves my children.  My children love him and really enjoy when he plays with them and holds them.  No matter how fast I think I am in order to pay the check for our food, it is always paid for by the time I get to it.  I love this man.  My family loves this man.  We earnestly desire God’s best for him.  I love that he is a man of conviction, even though I disagree with the contents of such a conviction.  He is a man that stands for something.  I not only respect that but thank God every day for making our paths cross.  This is NOT Islamophobia.

The fact that I need to justify myself should speak volumes of the horrible cultural climate we have all created today.

I was highly amazed by the degree of respect and composure and submission shown by the nominee when facing the senator’s questions.  His last attempt to answer the question went like this, “Thank you for probing on that question. As a Christian, I believe that all individuals are made in the image of God and are worthy of dignity and respect regardless of their religious beliefs. I believe that as a Christian that’s how I should treat all individuals.”  He was not allowed to finish.  I think he was trying to make the following argument before he was interrupted:

All individuals are made in the image of God
As bearers of the image of God, ALL people are worthy of dignity and respect
REGARDLESS of whether you are a secularist, a Muslim, a Christian
Christians love and respect ALL individuals regardless of their beliefs
Yet, Christians agonize for their neighbors who don’t believe in Jesus

Because if we are right, our neighbors are perishing.  Every day closer and closer to eternal condemnation.

You may not like that, but we would do anything to keep you from facing that future. Love demands we do the most loving thing for you.  To share with you the gift of eternal joy.

Even the notable atheist and gifted man Penn Jillette says, “How much do you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible and not tell them that?” as he refuses to hear this himself.  But he acknowledges that for a Christian not to share the message is inconsistent with the storyline of Christianity.

Christianity is exclusive.  There is only one way to God through Jesus Christ.  Period.

So is Islam.  There is no God but Allah and Muhammad is God’s prophet.

So is Secularism.  If you don’t think the way the senator likes, then in the words of the respectable senator, you are not respectful of others, or worse, you are “really not someone who this country is supposed to be about.”

Those are all exclusive beliefs.  

But only one thing can break the barrier–true love.

Christianity is all about love.  You may have been told otherwise by proponents of modern-day ideologies.  God is a Trinitarian being–in perfect community of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit from before all time until now and on to eternity.  A perfect fellowship of loving beings who are Love that overflows in the creation of all things.

The Christian, as I have argued in other places, will always, as an overflow of this Trinitarian love, both welcome the Muslim neighbor and be called to go to the Muslim world.  We do have the only news that will bring everlasting joy to them after all.  And this is a scary thing to do.  But it is done out of love.  A Christian does not fear a Muslim.

America is all supposed to be about tolerance and respect.  Neighbors living together for the common good.  Not shoving their beliefs down each other’s throats.  A Christian can’t convert anyone.  We don’t seek the “Godification” of the U.S. legal code.  We can’t make anyone listen. Christianity is not arrogant.  But it is exclusive.  And that is not a contradiction.

You think I’m wrong.  Great! Let’s talk about it.
I think you are wrong.  Let me grill you a steak.  We don’t even have to talk about it.
When somebody you love dies, I will be by your side.
When somebody uses a vehicle to run over our neighbors going to work, I will stand by your side.
As you face the consequences of your actions, I will bring you encouragement.
As you see me lose my livelihood for standing up for others, I pray you are there with me.
As others try to force me to believe in things I don’t, I pray you speak up for me.
As I stand for the life of the unborn, even if you hate what I do, I pray you understand my love for those children and their mothers.

We are all worshipers: the senator, the nominee, my Muslim friend, and I.

We all live in these United States of America.

I shouldn’t be afraid to be a Christian.
You shouldn’t be afraid to be a Muslim.
You shouldn’t be afraid of being a secularist.

Nobody should be afraid of punishment, violence, or retaliation in these United States for being a Christian, a Muslim, or a secularist.

We are all worshipers.  And since we worship contradicting gods, we must all be intellectually honest and sincere in understanding that disagreement will exist. Disagreement is not, however, an excuse for punishing others, being violent towards them, or for being disrespectful to others.  We are not God.  And the federal government is not God either.

Please stop believing the lie that I hate you, that I’m afraid of you, and that I don’t have the right to share good news with you.  You don’t have to hear.  You may even tell me not to speak to you.  That’s all good.  We are free.

People have died for us to be free.  We must be free to persuade others.  Or not.  We must be free to have our beliefs challenged.  Constructive criticism demands this high form of respect that has always been a part of America.

Let’s not throw it all in the trash requiring Muslims to jump through a religious test to come into this country and asking Christians to recant their faith to be appointed to a sub-cabinet position in our beloved capital.

“With liberty and justice for all.”  So help us, God.

Perilously Personally Pro-Life

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Angela Chininin Buele

Time and again I’m disturbed by a voice:
“I’d not abort, but all have their own choice.”

For land or the vote, I’d stand up and fight,
But killing a child’s not equal or right.

Deceit and lies have long been Satan’s game.
Will to end life’s murder just the same.

So what of the “neutral” who advocate?
Is apathy love and resistance hate?

They know blood is shed, and thus I suspect,
They think “healthcare” a defense God accepts.

When will come with the end of logic-gone-wild
And stop pitting mother against her child?

“Go Home, Deplorable”–Notes on Why Am I, Then, An American Citizen?

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Victor Chininin Buele

We were driving down one of the main streets in St. Louis the other day with my wife and children.  I will tell you later more about the circumstances surrounding what happened. But for now I just want to say that somebody shouted at my wife.  This older lady yelled at my wife with all the passion she could find within her.  She said to her, “Go home, deplorable.”  So, I started having what I’m calling my buyer’s remorse about being a United States citizen.  I found myself earlier this week high above Chicago at the Federal Building applying for my U.S. passport, and as I overlooked the most important city in my state, the question kept bothering me, “Why am I, then, an American citizen?”

There are so many things to be thankful for.  A while back, my pastor asked us to be more thankful.  So, I start our meals at home asking the children and my wife a simple question–what are you thankful for?  So, I ask myself the same question now in light of my bigger question.

I am thankful for a grandmother who sold the work of her old age after being left destitute to give me the money to start my adventure in the United States.  You probably don’t have a context to understand this, but this most honorable woman did work most of us would never do to urbanize a section of Loja so that many people could have a place to live.  She never got to build anything in that land.  Years of backbreaking labor.  She sold it.  For me. And that’s just the icing on the cake.  If I were to tell you all she has done, this would be a whole book.

I am thankful for a grandfather who taught me to read and to think even now that I don’t remember much about him.  He died when I was only five.  But somehow it’s as if he has always been there.

I am thankful for a father who always cared that I would know how to think and that I would know what the Ecuadorians and the Americans and the Soviets were thinking.  He didn’t want me to just swallow what others said.  He wanted me to know. I’m thankful for the many times he carried me in his shoulders home when I should have been walking. I’m thankful for the times he took me out to play soccer while still wearing his black dress shoes.  I’m thankful for how he would train me to go to the army school.  I still remember the first time I ran 2 kilometers in preparation for the admission test.  Instead of discouraging me for being like 30 minutes past the required time, he never stopped encouraging me.  I remember seeing his face when we went downtown Loja to call Monterrey asking for the cost of a life-saving surgery for my sister.  I remember seeing in his face both the desperation of knowing we could never pay for it and the courage to say that one way or another we would make it happen.

I am thankful for a mother who nourished me into life in the midst of great difficulty and sorrow.  I am thankful for the way she has bravely cared for and protected me.  I am thankful for how she taught me to never take no for an answer. I am thankful for how she let me come to the United States without a big speech about all the dangers that I could have easily fallen for.  She just let me go.  When I see the pictures of the Ecuadorian mothers letting their children go out of the country in the late 1990’s, I see what my mother must have hid in her heart from my eyes–that deep sorrow of the surrender of a son to the unknown.  Unless the seed falls into the ground and dies, it can bear no fruit. I am thankful for the watch she bought me–which I still wear–back in 1991 with six months of her work.  She worked a special project at the university, and she took me to the corner of Bolívar and Colón St. and bought me that watch, the watch that has been with me ever since through the shameful moments in army training, through life in America, my adventures for work in the Americas and Asia.

I am thankful for an aunt who bore so much of the care and responsibilities of my childhood.  I am thankful for the little car and the little cat toys, for the Smurfs outfit to turn around a sad birthday long ago.  I am thankful for the ways she taught me I shouldn’t be careless in speaking in public.  I am thankful for the way she would tell me that we could do much more than we dared to think or imagine as we would walk on Quito Street from the hospital to our rented apartment.  I am thankful that she never let me drown in the sinking sand of obstacles–she always encouraged me to find a better way.  Upon defeat she would encourage me to remember that it is about endurance, not about speed. Little did we know how important that lesson would be for life in the Kingdom.

I am thankful for two sisters.  Analí was the gift of God that changed our lives forever, and I am ever so thankful for her.  I am thankful for the way she is living proof of joy in the midst of unbelievable suffering, living proof that God works wonders, marvelous wonders, in the things we as humans really do deem impossible.  I am thankful for every day of her life–a living testimony that what is impossible for man is really not all that impossible in light of greater things.  Anita is not really my sister as you know, but we have said so many times that she is, that she is.  She really is.  She has been by my side one way or another since the moment she was born.  She has been the victim of my get-rich-quick childhood money schemes, my official-sounding fake FIFA soccer rules always to my favor, and my not-so-honest bigger half schemes.

And then we get to America.  I remember running through the Houston airport, desperately looking for gate C-15, lost as I could be, unable to really communicate.  I remember getting to Kansas City International Airport in the middle of the summer heat wearing a flannel long sleeve shirt and black, wool pants.

I am thankful for the generosity of so many.  Space will fail me to recognize them all. People who had no opportunity to profit from interacting with me gladly and abundantly overflowed my life with kindness, smiles, food, money, places to stay, encouragement, wisdom, direction (and directions), recommendation letters, English lessons, life lessons, American slang and cultural crash courses, enchiladas (thinking that would make me feel more welcome).

I am thankful for those two special band teachers.  Those who didn’t see a kid way over his head without a home but opened their basement room to me.  Those who emptied their little girl’s dresser drawers so that I may have a place to put my clothes on.  Those who fed me when I had no possible way to repay them.  He who wrote to the school board fighting for me.  He who faced teachers for me.  She who learned to be very patient with me.  She who did everything for me even when her plate was so full not just of things to do but also of difficulty and heartbreak.  They gave me the honor and the privilege of calling them my mom and dad.  And so they became.  And so they are.  I rode the bicycle they provided for me.  I still sit on the couch they gave to me.  I am ever so thankful for him pushing me to read that Harry Potter book.  You see, I was so ashamed that I couldn’t read and type as fast as I did in Spanish.  I’m thankful that they let me sit in their basement for hours using the old typewriter sending applications for admission and scholarships to anyone who would take them.  And I gained the most wonderful sister–who was the first one to publicly point out that I do have a big nose–and the two brothers I never had.  I’m thankful for what God has allowed me to see in their lives and the lives of our extended family.  I became an Ecuadorian man with Iowa and Nebraska roots.  A lover of apple pie.

And I could go on and on.

I am thankful for the man who wrote a business case that would ultimately give me the opportunity of my life.

I am thankful for the tall man who taught me what tolerance and freedom are.  That he let me put my idols on display and follow my foolish heart.  But he who also spoke with great kindness and power the message that transformed my life and made me truly rich.

You see, I came to America to become rich.  I came to America to overcome so much.

But I am not rich.  At least not the way Donald J. is.  Or appears to be.

Yet I am far richer than I ever dreamed of.  I am a citizen of heaven.  I get the joy of working with people from all over the work every day from my little corner of the world in Southern Illinois.  I get the joy of traveling to distant places to bless them through my work, to show them the works Jesus prepared for me to do.  I get the joy of pastoring a church and living life with those under my care–the joys and the sorrows, the pain and the struggle, the conflict and the peace.  All in Jesus.

So, how can I have buyer’s remorse?  I had asked the question looking out of the window. And the next thing I read in my book was part of the story of Tom Carson, a pastor in Quebec.  His son had asked him why he was staying in a place where he was seeing so little fruit.  His response was simple.  “I stay because I believe God has many people in this place.”

So even as somebody who does not know me or my wife and calls her a deplorable, I choose to stay.

I choose to stay because a fellow American born in Somalia invited me for lunch after knowing me only for 15 minutes while waiting at the passport office.  I choose to stay because when we choose to put flesh to our ideas things can only get better.  I choose to stay because the message of the gospel is the only hope and the only truth that can truly revitalize and revolutionize our nation.  I choose to stay because though I may be thought as the dumbest and most ignorant, I know that if you would love me and allow me to love you, you would get to see the love of Jesus, even in my moments of sin or anger, frustration or backsliding.  And I know that God has many people in this place.  So many of them welcomed me, the stranger, with open arms and open wallets.  I have slept in places where the only payment the host would expect is that payment of the Hospitable One saying to them one day yet in the future, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

You see, we are living in the most exciting time in American life.  We could either go down the cliff at an accelerated speed towards our own collective stupidity.  Or we could run to the cross and see the power of God set a light burning through our country and its people.

The story of the gospel is after all the story of what America has been to me–the outsider is brought in, adopted, despite being without merits of his own and without any hope of being able to afford the payment for the sheer goodness dumped on him.  Lavish grace.

The story of the gospel is after all the story of what this nation is supposed to embody – E Pluribus Unum, out of many one.  If you ever question whether the New Heavens and the New Earth will be glorious, I invite you to go to the passport office.  We are not all alike. We are so different.  Yet we are one.  That’s a Trinitarian reflection.  And it would make no sense without God.

The story of the gospel is after all the story of surrender and death.  Death of self so that others may live.

The story of the gospel is after all the story of God’s sovereign grace–He who called us is faithful.  He will surely do it.

I am an American citizen because this is also my home.  And I want to seek its welfare. And I want to bless as I have been blessed.  And I want to give as much as been given to me. To whom much is given, of him MUCH is expected.

Undeniable

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A crowd is formed and a deception born
Beholden to gods all pleasing to self
Saving the whales as the humans are torn
Overdosing with what’s found on the shelf
Lying, dishonored, unquenchable lust
Utter denial of the caused sorrow
Thinking themselves wise and God a disgust
Evolved today, but dust by tomorrow

Timeless authority, unmoved by fads
Refusing to cower, argue, or bend
Unwavering Love’s promise ironclad
Taken face value beginning to end
His Word alone is sufficient to mend

-Angela Chininin Buele

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

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Victor Chininin Buele

A very dear and good friend and colleague wrote something on Facebook about the President’s admission ban to the citizens of seven countries. Seeing his words gave me an opportunity to collect my thoughts on the subject and stop delaying this article. It has been bothering me for the better part of fifteen years. The world did change after 9/11. And I have felt it to the core.

This is an expansion of my already long comment left on my friend’s Facebook wall.

Historical Survey

Two quick points on this:

  1.  John Calvin welcomed a significant number of persecuted refugees to Geneva.  He helped them get established and gave them work to do in transforming the culture and reforming the church. You are entitled to your opinion about this colorful Christian. But he was indeed a Christian who loved Jesus. For more information on this, I refer you to the book Calvin and Commerce by David Hall.
  2. The Israelites of the Old Testament were given what we would call today visas by the Egyptians. The archeological evidence for this is presented in James Hoffmeier’s The Immigration Crisis. And besides that, the Old Testament is full of references to aliens and sojourners.

The Immigrant Story

It is going to be fifteen and a half years since I came to the United States on the day of my oath of citizenship ceremony. I know what it feels like to be humiliated by consular and USCIS interviews from diligent officers protecting the border and the homeland.  I know what it feels like to be assumed guilty unless proven innocent. When is the last time you went to Aruba on vacation and needed to think about taking with you a pay stub, an employment letter, and whatever else you can foresee an immigration officer ask you to let you back in?  I know what it is to have your grandmother, who sold the work of her life to pay for part of your education, be denied a visa to attend your graduation. I know what it is to beg until she was given a fifteen day visa, lest she were to overstay. I know what it is like to have your beloved sister be denied admission and not attend your wedding even though the consular officer knew that a legally-admitted immigrant and his U.S. citizen fiancée would be hosting and responsible for her.

And as sad and mopey as this may sound, this does not even come close to what my persecuted Christian brothers and sisters face today at the hands of oppressors, what was faced by fellow legal permanent residents at airports yesterday.

The Goal of Terrorism

The goal of terrorism is to disturb the balance of all normal life—it is for “us” to fear everyone, everywhere, all the time. The next sleeper cell could be your next door neighbor. White, middle-class, seemingly honest for decades. At your own child’s birthday party.

There is no foolproof way to search inside the human heart and iSadie a label “terrorist” or not. Only God is sovereign like that. No immigration system will ever be able to fully discover and eradicate evil.

A balance between protection and open generosity is required. Every government is to protect its people–to reward what is good and to deal with what is evil.  I don’t propose that welcoming refugees and immigrants would require any government to be foolish with open doors policies without any vetting, but this consequence of the fall of our world is also not to be used as an excuse for illogically, irrationally, uncharitably express fear-producing division. From whom much is given much is expected. A legal permanent resident should never be detained without having committed a crime. Period. Love your neighbor is the cry of your soul whether you believe the carpenter of Nazareth is a figment of my imagination or the Lord of All.

The Goal of Christianity

The whole point of the Christian faith is that the redeemed citizens of heaven are sojourners, legal aliens, so to speak, of this world today and a part of its cultural transformation. Mike Bull summarizes what must be our balance between this world and the next as follows–“We must not be so heavenly-minded that we retreat from this world nor so earthly-minded that we are disqualified from God’s blessing.”  We are indeed citizens of two worlds, looking forward to the new world and seeing that as motivation to work without ceasing in the renewal of all things today.

The point of the gospel breaks when we give in to fear that everyone who looks different than us will kill us. Christian, this is nothing else but a denial of God’s sovereignty and justice and power and love. This is also a denial that the gospel has changed hearts throughout history and will continue to change hearts. God has promised so, and so it shall come to pass.

The Bible is full of “Fear not!” statements. If you are afraid, know that Jesus will never leave you nor forsake you. Turn to Him, rely on Him, work heartily knowing He runs over all.

Therefore, anyone who openly and kindly and generously shares the gospel of Jesus Christ with his neighbor–refugee, immigrant or not– outdoing others, including the government, in showing hospitality, care, food, and the good news of His death and resurrection, can actually be an instrument of radical transformation in the life of a human being. It’s such shortsightedness to think otherwise!

The gospel calls the Christian to go to all the world, but when He brings the world to us, people lack the faith to believe that Jesus can change the heart of even an ISIS fighter ready to pull a trigger. That Love can’t melt the heart of stone.  

And if you say that this doesn’t make sense because “their” goal is to secretly infiltrate all things and then blow us up, let me assure you that I am aware of that counter argument.  But, do you believe in a more powerful gospel than even that extreme?  Or have you not realized that this was precisely Jesus’s point?  We love the phrase “Good Samaritan.” Go think about what’s behind that phrase. Go and be a neighbor. An excellent one. Tell people about the one who told us that the gospel of the kingdom will be like leaven that will take over the world and restore it to what it was always intended to be.  No more ISIS. No more humiliation. No more persecution. No more tears. No more sorrow. Jesus reigns and shall reign.

And YOU, my dear Christian reader, are the frontline of Homeland Security. Your neighbor needs to be radically loved by you.  Have you welcomed him and told him the good news?

A Woman’s Choice

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Angela Chininin Buele

Wonder personified—
The touch, the look, the wit
Glory, fascination
Heart and body did fit

A new life has begun
Made from her and from him
Yet formed by Another
Not by chance or a whim

Divine stroke—and now three,
Made all in same fashion
A single voice cried out
Supremacy, its passion

The claim—a threat was made
To life, joy, position
The offender, now silenced
In fragile condition

The rebel Court of man
Has already spoken
Four decades of silenced
Testimony unbroken

The choice unnatural
To let live or make die
The Authority stolen,
The True Maker denied

March for all to have life
Call for weeping and prayer
For no law of mankind
Can grow love in fields bare

The One who fills with breath
Sight must give to blind eyes
To receive and rejoice
At this gift of small size

The Choice of the Father,
Christ, gave all to save man
Did He not choose mothers
To love the child unplanned?

Facing the Fight Ahead

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Angela Chininin Buele

The presidential campaign of 2016 was a no-holds-barred down and dirty battle.  Then there were public outrage, organized protests, a wide range of threats, public appeals for upsetting the Electoral College, and just today vandalism in the streets of D.C. in protest of Donald Trump’s inauguration.

So who really won?  Maybe no one.  Those who believed that Democrats would offer hope might be disillusioned by the new makeup in the Executive and Legislative Branches.  Those who believed that Republicans (or Donald Trump specifically) would offer hope are seeing that these changes have already caused lots of conflict and complication.

I didn’t champion either of the final candidates in the race, and I imagine that the new administration will seek to accomplish some goals of which I approve and others of which I would not.  The good news is that my hope has never been tied to political leaders or action.  I know that the King of Kings is the Creator and rightful ruler of the whole world, not just this country, and He is coming to set all things right.

Though I am but one person, I have been convicted of my important role in this next political cycle.  I pledge to faithfully pray for the Lord God to plant His Word and His will deep in the hearts of both Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton.

I also want to make a specific impact on the general population.  I have come to see that the fog of social media has had an unsavory effect on our public use of free speech.  I want to commit to the standard of Ephesians 4:29, which says, “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.”  So when the fight gets feisty, I will refuse to pick up the weapon of insult and instead reach for the edifying tool of the Word and speak (or write) it in love.  Some still might not like it, but my goal will be to make sure you know that the Enemy against whom I fight is Satan, the one telling the lies, not the people who believe them.

You are all my neighbors, and I want my words to point you toward the One who is worthy of worship.  Because the way that God can truly bless America is by giving us the gift of Jesus’ victory over sin, not the victory of any movement of the moment.

Great Again

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Victor Chininin Buele

I could use your time to parse the speech.  I could tell you why an America First ideology has great dangers, and why it is the opposite of the message of the carpenter of Nazareth, the Lord of All.  I could tell you why the voiceless matter.  I could tell you why it’s one thing to protest and another thing to break windows and hide your face and throw things at the police. I could tell you why boasting on either side is not appropriate today.

But instead of that, let’s cut through the distractions.

We all want something to be great again.

The phrase is nothing but pregnant with the kind of rhetoric that makes the mind wonder and go to that place where the psychologists want you to go when they make you close your eyes and think of the beach on a sunny day away from all of your sorrows, away from the rebellious children, the low paying job, the ungrateful spouse.  President Trump appropriated it from another time.  From a scary time in world history.  And while it makes a part of the population increasingly scared, it makes the other section of the population increasingly optimistic. And your perception of how large each population group is ends up depending on what you want it to be.

I would like to argue that everyone wants something to be great again:

President Obama and Mrs. Obama most likely want to see a continuation of President Obama’s work and ideas.  They would be longing for progress, for restoration.

President Trump claims to want to see America restored to a former glory, a time of children having a world-class education, manufacturing jobs abounding, a middle-class nirvana.

The man with the Bikers for Trump gear most likely wants to see his life restored to a former glory, the one he had when he didn’t have to be in debt and without meaningful and well-paying employment.  He longs for restoration.  He longs for opportunity.

The woman who fears the Supreme Court overturning Roe v. Wade and who opposes the defunding of Planned Parenthood claims to long for women to have a future and good healthcare, for sex to be fun and free.

The teacher protesting the nomination of Betsy DeVos longs for education to be great. Setting aside whether this teacher is numbed silly by having to teach students how to pass a state test in order for her school district to be accredited and for her to have a job, she longs in her heart to give another human being hope of a good future.  After all, why else would she choose a life that pays little for having to deal with people’s messes–buy school supplies while parents buy drugs, comfort children torn apart by divorce and bullying.

The nuclear scientist protesting the potential replacement of a genius running the Department of Energy with the Honorable Rick Perry is longing for a time where the person running an organization actually knows and understand what it is that is being placed under their care.

We all long for something to be great again.

But that something is most definitely not America.

“For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.  And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies” (Romans 8:22-23)

We long for the garden.  We want all to be great again.

We long for a righteous ruler, just, loving, and fair.  Justice Himself.  Love Himself.  Mercy Himself.  Peace Himself.

We long for human beings to overcome the curse and be transformed into the image of Jesus–working fully and happily, feasting with the fruit of their labor, delighting in the fruit of their love, and knowing all is for the best cause in the world.  No fears or tensions.

We long for a time where the bonds of debt and poverty are no more.  Where we really live the world President Obama pointed to in The Audacity of Hope, an America, and a world without hyphens.  But that as we tragically saw still eludes us for we are without peace.

We long for a time where “every pleasure will be godly and all godliness will be pleasurable” as my pastor likes to say.  A time where sex and childbearing are truly enjoyable, godly, and free.

We long for not just our children but for ourselves to really have a challenging and fulfilling education and true enjoyment and excitement about knowing more and more and more.  A time where the wisdom of God fills the earth and everyone outdoes one another in applying the marvelous knowledge of the glory of God to all disciplines to bring about true fruitfulness.  You may not use those words.  But you do long for this.

We long for a time where we keep and tend the garden, as we once were created to do.  And so that nothing filthy or unrighteous would ever enter it.

Despite the fall of humanity, our world and our humanity can still be somewhat fruitful and beautiful and hopeful.  Multiplication is inescapable.  But it is hard because the world is also fallen and broken and filthy.  Multiplication is painful. So we groan together in pain, eagerly waiting for redemption.  As popular book on education is titled, we are Waiting for Superman.

Think about it.  If Trump disgusts you, that’s a great kindness of God to you, to remind you that you do long for the garden.  You long for restoration.

If Trump doesn’t disgust you, be careful, for a serial adulterer and immoral man is now the President.  And with all the respect due to the office and to his humanity, he is not Jesus. And all the ways in which he falls short must remind us that we also long for restoration.

And the only way to restoration, if Paul was right when writing to the Romans (which he is), is through adoption as sons.

Come, and welcome to Jesus Christ.

He paid the debt.  He calls you to be free.  He calls you to be great again.

Truly great again.

Every day.  One degree of glory to the next.  Into the image of Jesus Christ.

And I doubt it comes with a red or a blue hat, a pink shirt or a silent majority sticker.  Just saying.

Testamento

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Victor Chininin Buele

Como es tradición en la bella patria natal y del corazón, el Año Viejo, ya de avanzada edad, está a punto de fenecer.  Y antes de irse, este caballero ilustre quiere dejarnos su testamento.

A todas y todos,

Ya se acerca la hora fatídica de mi casi odiada existencia.  Pero les dejo un segundo extra. Para que se acuerden de mi generosidad.  Cuidado estar asustándose y pensando que la tierra dejará de rotar algún día lejano.  Aquél que la sostiene nunca duerme ni se muere como yo.  Y científicamente hablando todo se relaciona con la adopción del UTC.  Al que tenga oídos que escuche.  Y queridos programadores, no estarán sufriendo si los equipos se dañan debido al segundo adicional.  Den gracias porque hay trabajito.

Y hablando de trabajito, muchos me hechan la culpa de todo lo que les ha pasado este año. Yo ya viejito ni oigo bien.  Pero esto sí recuerdo–que el Soberano del mundo es más sabio que yo.

Les dejo una exhortación–No importa si sea Lasso, Moreno, la Cynthia, o el queridísimo Donald J., sus corazones, queridos amigos seguirán siendo los mismos.  Protestarán a quien no haga lo que ustedes quieran y adorarán a quien aparente hacer lo que ustedes quieran.  Recuerden que todos somos políticos.  Todos tenemos nuestra agenda personal. La dificultad siempre será cuando ustedes se consideren a ustedes mismos como más importantes que los demás.  Recuerden el respeto mutuo y tengan compasión de los demás.  A mi me hechan la culpa de todo, hasta de la muerte de la “Princesa Leia”. Si ustedes piensan que el año ha sido duro para ustedes imagínense cómo me he sentido sin ser culpable de todo lo que me dicen que he hecho.  Por eso le tengo compasión al Mashi.  Y como diría él, no sean sufridores.

Les dejo unos dolaritos para que vayan a un curso del arte de la persuasión.  Es importante aprender que nuestros objetivos no van a vencer siempre y que debemos aprender a cómo persuadir a otros de los méritos de nuestras causas sin ponernos a pelear, a insultar, o a sentirnos como víctimas cuando nuestra opinión no prevalece.  Yo he tratado y tratado de persuadir pero seguían pasando cosas y nadie me quería escuchar.  Hasta el comandante Fidel se fue.

Les dejo también un pequeño regaño–dejen de creer todo lo que leen y ven en Internet. La sabiduría incluye el discernimiento lógico y aquella destreza aprendida en la calle que nos permite reconocer cuando alguien nos quiere tomar el pelo.  Entonces, por favor… poner atención.  Escucharán.

Les dejo también una botella del tamaño de esas grandotas que venden por ahí en esos lugarcitos de interesante reputación.  Una botella llena de optimismo y esperanza.  Una botella llena de alegría profunda.  Aquel optimismo que les dejo es profundo y no fallece (como yo) cuando la adversidad llega, cuando Aleppo se vuelve polvo, cuando la inestabilidad mundial se vuelve obvia, cuando la enfermedad nos llega, o cuando el sueldo no sube.  Beban en abundancia de la fuente de agua viva con la humildad de aquella mujer cuyas profundas convicciones fueron inundadas por la gracia de aquella Agua.

Al que tenga oídos que escuche.

A la familia del Chininín le dejo un abrazo muy lleno de amor, de ese amor que se hace más dulce con el tiempo y a pesar de la distancia.  Y la sonrisa de la Analí para recordar que hay certeza de que la alegría es posible y que el Arquitecto de todas las cosas no abandona jamás.  Y a Tomy que por favor sea educado y que no se coma a la Princesita Sofía.

Y aunque piensen que no me gusta la diversión, también les he dado cosas de qué reír. A Tiko Tiko, nuestro asambleísta de los sueños, le pido que por favor actualice su canción del Sistema Solar.  Plutón ya no es planeta.  ¡Ponte serio, Tiko, Tiko!  Han podido jugar los niños al equilibrismo y gimnasia en las calles de la regeneración urbana. Gracias Chato.  Y ahora sí buenos escenarios para las artes.  A la susodicha jueza pues, que por favor, ya deje a la gente que se ría y se asombre de su situación pero que sepa que es mejor en esas situaciones estar callada y cambiar.  Ya que se hizo algo, pues allí queda.  Lo que sí podemos cambiar es el futuro.

Y el futuro es aun brillante.  Bienvenido pequeño 2017.  Paz.  Es posible hallarla.

Dios, Patria y Libertad,
El Año Viejo