The Cross On Wheels Religion

PHOTO BY PATRICK T. FALLON/GETTY IMAGES

This photo is a perfect illustration of the civil religion that masquerades as Christianity in North America.

It uses Christian imagery and language.

It sings the songs and feels the feels. 

It makes converts to its cause.

It prays the prayers, it quotes the Bible. 

It draws crowds and calls it revival.

But it sacrifices little and makes it easier to follow Jesus by replacing his way with something much more palatable and practical. Like wheels on an instrument of torture and death. 

It will wear the cross as jewelry, but it cannot, will not, bear the burden of the cross in its totality.

The burden of loving enemies. Or neighbors, if they are too inconvenient.

It will seldom turn the other check. Likely never turn a sword into a plow and will, in fact, call you names for suggesting we do so.

It will not be critiqued and will call any pushback “persecution.”

It employs fear and scarcity to drive conformity.

It will not repent of bias and bigotry because it trades deep self-examination for shallow self-improvement.

It dismisses systemic change because it thrives in the system as is.

It will not tear down its idols because the idols all parrot the right words and promise power and privilege and position.

It has built itself in such a way that talking points and statements of belief matter more than flesh and blood humanity.

It offers wealth and upward mobility, 3 quick steps to breakthrough, and all the assurance that you’re one of the good guys.

And it confuses this nation (and the partisanship that comes with it) for the upside down, nationless Kingdom of God. 

The cross on wheels religion is a sham. Whether fully embraced or sprinkled in here and there, it distorts the Gospel and hinders the work of the Church. It has shown up time and again throughout history (and Scripture), but despite how often it invokes the name, it is a stranger to the God revealed in Jesus Christ. 

There is another way. A better way. It’s much less glamorous and the crowds are often smaller.

This way will require all of you. A change of mind and heart and allegiance. It will ask for more than a simple prayer or attendance at worship gatherings or social media posts like this one. It will ask you to lay down your life and embrace the stranger and insist that the last go first. It is not terribly pragmatic. 

But it is good. It is grace-filled and spacious and life giving. It is the way that follows after Jesus and bears fruit like kindness and gentleness and self-control. And joy and peace and love and patience. It is the way of mercy and justice and line erasing and deep, meaningful faithfulness in the face of all that has gone wrong.

There are many different ways to be a Christian in this world, but they don’t all look like Jesus of Nazareth. He is not a mascot or a means to an end. He isn’t a prop or commodity. He asks more than lip service and certainly more than faith interwoven with something as fallible as a nation state.

He is not seeking to hand us the American dream or whisk us away to some far-off afterlife. He is redeeming all creation. Making all things new. He invites us to stumble along the way with him as he repairs all that is broken in the us and the world. And as his cross – the one without the training wheels – testifies, there are no shortcuts to a better world.

Hosanna.

On Palm Sunday a lot of people wanted Jesus to save them. That’s what “hosanna” means – save us now.

The people wanted Jesus to save them from economic hardship, to save them from their political rivals, to save them from powerlessness. To restore them to the good old days. To conquer and vanquish their enemies. To make them great again.

But Jesus wasn’t interested in any of that. He wasn’t trying to establish a Christian nation. He wasn’t concerned with wealth or seats of political power or passing laws to enforce his worldview. Jesus wasn’t trying to build a holy version of empire.

He still isn’t.

By Friday he will be abandoned by all but a few, because who wants to follow a guy who won’t take up the sword against evil? Who wants to follow someone who would willingly surrender, turn the other cheek, lay down his rights? Who would rather die than kill?

Not very many. At least then.

Or perhaps now.

Perhaps we too have abandoned Jesus and his way, despite claiming we want him to save us.

And perhaps the thing we most need Jesus to save us from is our lack of imagination beyond the halls of power and bank account balances and the ability to control. We need saved from the lie that the only way to change the world is through violence or threats of it. Or the lie that clinging to our life is the only way to keep it. We need saved from a hunger for greatness that looks more like gilded palaces and less like the washing of feet.

Jesus is remaking the world through kindness and gentleness, peace and joy, service and selflessness. Through inclusion and community and healing and shared meals. Through the way of the cross and the holy love of God.

He redefines what it means to be strong and faithful and just. In the upside-down Kingdom of God the last are first and the small are mighty and the meek inherit the earth. Here the poor are our siblings and the lines we’ve drawn around ourselves or others are erased.

This is where salvation is found. This is where life conquers death. This is where all is made new.

The question is, do we believe it? Are our actions, attitudes, priorities, conversations, and everything else informed by this truth? Will they be moving forward? Come Friday will we look more like the faithful few at the foot of the cross or like those who would sooner insult, condemn, trample, or crucify any who get in the way?

Hosanna, indeed. God save us from ourselves and our lack of faith. God save us now.

No weapon formed against you.

“No weapon formed against you shall prosper.”

I keep seeing this Bible verse in response to the violent attempt against Donald Trump’s life.

I am glad he survived – and violence has no place in our politics – but this usage of Scripture is nonsense at best and idolatrous with ease.

This verse is from Isaiah 54, where the writer is speaking to Jerusalem, the city, the center of the Jewish faith. It is not about a person, then or now.

Neither Trump nor Biden are Jerusalem. They are not the center of faith – at least not any faith that isn’t blasphemous.

We cannot grab any ole verse out of context and apply it to our current situation.

Anyone quoting Isaiah 54 would likely be upset by someone else quoting Revelation 13, “One of the beast’s heads looked like it had sustained a mortal wound, but its fatal wound was healed. Rapt with amazement, the whole world followed the beast.”

Gross, right?

The Bible is not about Trump or Biden. Or the USA. Or any election.

God is not promising no harm will be done to your preferred political candidate (or pastor or modern nation state or pro athlete or you).

Even Jerusalem has suffered harm and violence after these words were originally spoken.

And what of Corey Comperatore, who lost his life to a bullet intended for the former president? Why do weapons formed against a politician not prosper, but weapons against fire fighters in the audience do? Or kids in classrooms?

For Christians, this is particularly perplexing because the guy we follow was crucified, died, and buried. Escaping death and harm is no where promised to us. We are people who believe in laying down our lives, not sanctified bubble wrap.

Ascribing God-ordained protections or callings to a modern political candidate is a dangerous game. These readings elevate people to a status that does not belong to them. They become deified, infallible, untouchable in ways that lead us astray. It keeps us from asking the questions we should be asking, pushing back where we should be pushing back, and marries our good God to these less than perfect people and platforms.

So, if you’d made it this far, reject violence and reject shallow readings of Scripture. Reject reading the Bible as an out of context magic 8 ball. Reject the idea that God can only use one person or that some people are above accountability or correction or even death because they are “anointed.”

We can do better than this.