Tag Archives: Bible

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What Traffic Can Teach Christians About Racism

So one of the problems I see in our political discourse, is that we often use the same words but mean different things.

And nowhere is that problem more vexing than in our discussions about race. It’s been a problem for a long time, of course, but ever since the election of Donald Trump, there have been a fresh round of arguments springing up on cable-news pundit panels, message boards and social media feeds. And the typical argument goes something like this:

 

Progressive: [Insert recent news story] is a clear example of racism! That [incident, action, statement or idea] is racist!

Conservative: No, it isn’t! Why do you make everything about race? That had nothing to do with race. [Insert person at the center of story] is not a racist!

Progressive: You don’t know what you’re talking about! Your denial of racism is racist!

Conservative: You don’t know what you’re talking about! Your accusation of racism makes you the real racist!

Rinse and repeat.

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Dear White People, I’mma Need You to See This Movie

DWP1One of the great ironies of Justin Simien’s masterful directorial debut, Dear White People, which released in theaters nationwide this last weekend, is that although it’s aimed at white people, it’s not about white people.

And just now as I was writing, I was tempted to use another, less weaponized-sounding verb, but truly, “aimed” is the right choice, because Dear White People is relentless in its depiction of white people as alternately clueless, ambivalent or calculatingly sinister regarding the racial issues on display at fictional ivy-league school Winchester University. And I mean that as a compliment.

In ways both obvious and subtle, it makes Big Important Pronouncements about race, and then uses those pronouncements both as occasional comedic sketch premises, but also as plot devices to flesh out the emotional development of its main characters, all of whom are either black or biracial. The combination of the two, the thematic heavy-handedness modulated by a playful tone of nimble vignettes with varying emotional intensity… it’s quite a balancing act to pull off, akin to performing surgery with a shotgun.

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We Belong

So for the past sixteen months or so, I’ve been serving as the interim worship director for a church plant just west of Portland, called Kaleo Covenant Church. How I ended up there is sort of a long story for another time, but it will suffice to say that it’s more than just a gig for me. The pastor there is Troy Hoppenrath, a man whom I enjoy serving alongside immensely, in no small measure because of his crazy stories, the manic energy that only a former youth pastor can bring to the pulpit, and what I perceive as a fearless willingness to take ministry risks (case in point: me).

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If A Tree Claps In A Forest And No One Actually Hears It, Is It OK for Sufjan Stevens to Write A Song About It?

So, on a lark, I decided to Google the phrase “the trees of the field will clap their hands” because of the tune “Ye Shall Go Out With Joy” that the ICC worship team pulled out for the 1st Sunday of Advent.

What I found was a Youtube video of a song by Sufjan Stevens, a song called “All the Trees Will Clap Their Hands.”

Now, I understand the Scripture reference (Isaiah 55). And I kind of understand the lyrics, a little. What I don’t understand is what’s happening in this video. Or, more to the point, the meaning behind it. What’s the drinking, and the shower, and water, have to do with trees and clapping?

Hmm… after reviewing that chapter of Isaiah again, I’m convinced that it has to do with water, and the Word. But I still think I’m missing something. Either that, or this video is just not that interesting.

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Jesus Was Gangsta, and Other Lessons from John Chapter 2

From time to time, I just like to share my thoughts on certain passages of the Bible.

Consider the gospel of John, chapter 2, the first part of which is the famous passage where Jesus turns water into wine.

(And by “consider” I mean read it. Go ahead and follow that link, and read the passage first. Even if you’ve already read it… read it again. Trust me… the rest of what I have to say will make more sense if you read the text first.)

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There are a few thoughts that strike me here.

Sometimes great things can come out of what looks like inconvenience.

Jesus’ response to his mother in verse four implies that He wasn’t just sitting around, waiting for a need to meet. He seems to bristle at his mother’s loaded statement, “they have no more wine.”

(Doesn’t that sound like a good Jewish mother? You can almost hear a gentle, yet goading, tone of voice. They’re out of wine, my son. I’m sure you can think of something.)

Meanwhile, Jesus is all, look, you’re jumping the gun here. Can’t I just relax and enjoy this wedding feast?

Yet despite his annoyance, Jesus has compassion on the hosts of the party, and does His thing. Which leads me to the next lesson.

When Jesus performs a miracle, he doesn’t always broadcast it.

You’ll notice that Jesus never said: “Fine. I’ll just turn some water to wine, then.” He just told them to fill the water jars. This is part of the story that’s easy to miss.

But think about it for a moment. If the servants were in the wrong frame of mind, they might have completely missed what Jesus was doing. They might have thought that Jesus was just telling them to fill the huge stone water jars because, well, since we’re out of wine then folks oughta be able to drink something.

The text in verse nine says that the servants knew what happened, but it doesn’t tell us whether they found out after the master of the banquet had discovered the jars were full of wine, or whether or not they knew all along what Jesus was up to. We can only speculate.

But I’ll tell you what… if they were anything like me, they probably didn’t see it coming at all. Because many times I pray and ask God for things, but not having enough faith to believe that He’ll answer that prayer, I stop looking for the answer. And often times, it’s right in front of me.

Jesus, I really wish you could just go get some — hey, is this wine???

That moment of discovery, where your frustration disappears and all you can do is stand there dumbfounded… that’s the story of my life. God’s timing doesn’t match our own, but it’s always perfect.

The third lesson from this passage is related to the second:

Jesus never uses miracles to draw attention to Himself.

You’ll notice that the master of the banquet went to the bridegroom and remarked — I’m guessing in a congratulatory note — about how most of the time by this point in a feast, the host brings out the cheap stuff, but this time, he saved the best for last. Obviously he said this not knowing that Jesus had just transformed the water into wine.

Now at this point Jesus could’ve stepped in and taken credit.

I’m reminded of D.L. Hughley’s great line from The Original Kings of Comedy, where he’s imagining Jesus performing this miracle:

“‘You know, I don’t normally do this, but uh … [*blessing the water*] y’all keep the party going.'”

I mean, it’s not like He would’ve marched in, all proud and junk. I transformed this water into wine! I am God! Bow to me! Jesus, in my opinion, was far too cool a dude to do something that obnoxious.

But, he could’ve done that thing some of us do from time to time, where we want to take credit for something without looking like we’re taking credit for it. Like we want people to know what we did, but we don’t want to look like we’re glory-chasing attention hounds.

He could’ve said, “Yeah, I just figured the good people here appreciate good wine, y’know? So I just put a little something together, no big deal. It’s mostly water, anyway.”

A few self-deprecating jokes here, a few strategically-placed business cards there, and Jesus could’ve built a wine distribution network in no-time flat.

But He didn’t.

Instead, He allowed the bridegroom to get the credit.

When Jesus said to His disciples much later that they would do greater things than He did, it wasn’t so they could claim the authority that their reputation as His close associates would bring. Rather, it was so that they could continue to be a blessing to others, and in so doing, show His love to people who needed it.

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Heading into the second part of John 2, we read the account of another famous story, where Jesus clears the temple of merchants. Foreshadowing the exploits of Indiana Jones, Jesus grabs his whip and clears out everybody involved in buying and selling in the temple courts.

One of the most interesting parts of this passage is in verse 17. In this verse, it says the disciples remembered the scripture that says, “Zeal for your house will consume me.”

This is an odd thing to read, because it leaves so much out. Like many verses in the Bible, this one is open to quite a bit of interpretation. When did they remember this scripture? Was it, like in verse 22, much later when they made the connection between Jesus’ actions and that particular Davidic psalm?

Because of my own life and my own struggles in ministry, this is what I see.

I see that verse and I see a man on a mission. Driving the moneychangers out by force of whip is not the action of a nice man with a few spiritual directives. That’s the sign of a man burdened with a dogged, unrelenting passion to see evildoers brought to justice. In that moment, Jesus was like the Jason Bourne of Nazareth.

And I think the disciples saw it. I think in that moment, they got a picture of exactly what makes Jesus tick. They saw “a man possessed” — take that, Clay Bennett — by a need to defend His Father’s house and prevent others from cashing in on His glory.

And honestly, I think it might have scared them a little.

Because if you read the whole psalm, it’s not a nice picture. David is lamenting his plight. He’s talking about how he’s up to his neck in trouble. About how those who hate him outnumber the hairs on his head. He’s pleading desperately to God, hoping this his mistakes will not wreck God’s reputation among the people. And the line that is quoted in the second chapter of John, if you read it in its entirety, it reads as follows:

Zeal for your house consumes me, and the insults of those who insult you fall on me.

Many Christians today use the language of God consuming us, referring to God as an all-consuming fire, desiring God to remove our own desires and replace them with His.

But do we really understand what that means?

Maybe we wouldn’t be so casual with that prayer if we substituted the word “consume” with the word “burn.”

Zeal for your house burns me.

Not just burns within me, but burns me. As in, I get so overloaded, I get such intense tunnel vision about God’s glory, that I get burned to a crisp, all smoky and blackened, like a Cajun entrée left on the grill too long.

Yeah, it’s devotion to God, but in the natural sense, it’s not very desirable.

Who wants to live burnt?

And for that matter, who wants to be insulted?

That the insults of God’s enemies can, would, or should fall on us, is a heavy idea, one that I blogged about just over three years ago.

Once you read the whole thing, that whole zeal consuming thing takes on a whole new light, doesn’t it?

This is what was Jesus was referring to at the end of Luke 14, when he talked about the cost of being a disciple.

He was saying, essentially, if you can’t forsake what you hold dear and follow me to the point of willing to be crucified, then just forget about it now. Don’t start out all gung-ho and then punk out later when things gets tough.

That’s what I think the disciples were seeing when they saw Jesus put the smack down on the charlatans in the temple. I think they were seeing Jesus in his rawest, Rasheed Wallace-like form, burning with rage and indignation.

(Valiant rage and indignation looks different to different people, by the way. Some people compare Jesus to William Wallace, but I see him more like Rasheed Wallace. Maybe Denzel’s John Creasy character from Man on Fire would be a nice compromise.)

So anyway, that whole recognition of Jesus in his rawest form had to have provoked both fear and admiration. That’s what I think happened in verse 17.

Which sets up the next part so beautifully. When the Jews come at Him wanting a sign to demonstrate his authority, he tells them that if you destroy this temple, he’ll rebuild it in three days.

And the Bible says that after He had been crucified and raised from the dead, then they understood what Jesus meant. He was referring to his own body, and not the physical temple building.

I always respect when someone can tell me something that doesn’t make sense at the time, but then later on their actions give enough context for me to get what they mean. Because often times they do so intentionally, hoping that your lack of understanding will get you to pay attention.

And I love the end of this chapter, verses 23 and 24:

Now while he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many people saw the miraculous signs he was doing and believed in his name.[c] 24But Jesus would not entrust himself to them, for he knew all men. 25He did not need man’s testimony about man, for he knew what was in a man.

That’s one of those archetypes that is always glorified in the movies. The loner hero who can look into someone’s eyes and know what they’re up to. Jesus would not allow himself to get too close to everybody who wanted a piece of Him, because He knew their hearts. He knew they would turn on Him in a New York minute.

He didn’t need to hear the stories, He just looked at them, and He knew.

And He refused to be played. When the time came for Him, nobody took His life from Him … He laid it down himself.

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It wasn’t until I finished digesting the whole chapter that the title for this post came to me.

Because seriously… when you imagine the two sides of Jesus on display here, the image begins to coalesce. On one side, Jesus is having a good time, and when the homies run out of wine, he’s right there to make everything legit. On the other side, you see fools encroaching on territory where they don’t belong, and as soon as Jesus rolls up He starts some stuff. Gettin’ all up in their business. Regulatin’ the situation.

And afterwards He sees His influence grow, to the point where everybody wants to be down with Him. Only, He can’t let them get too close, because He can’t let them interfere with His Father’s business.

If that’s not gangsta, I don’t know what is.

I’m Jelani Greenidge, and thanks for mixin’ it up with me.

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Context: Frame It, Then Name It

3 … 2… 1… Context.

You ever wondered about what context means? If you have, let me break down the etymology. You’ve got “con,” which is Spanish for “with,” and then you’ve got “text,” which is English for “text.”


Okay, you know what? Forget about the etymology part.


Context is reading between the lines. It’s looking past the foreground into the background, and then appreciating the whole picture. And when it comes to evaluating or understanding something, context is key. Without it, you don’t have the whole story. In other words, what you name it depends on how you frame it.

Love and Basketball

Ponder these words, if you will:

“Oh man, dude. You suck.”
“What?! Oh, come onnnnnnnnn…”
“Yea-yuh! And one!”
“Unhh! … that’s my dude right there.”
“Get off me!”
“Punk.”
“Get that outta my house.”

You might be wondering where these quotes are coming from. They sound like they could be catchphrases for the latest round of network sitcoms, or maybe things overheard at a local tavern. One would not, however, expect these to be words of love and endearment.

But they are.

You know why? Because of the context in which they are spoken.

These are the words that tend to pepper the air whenever my brother and I get together to play video game basketball. And every time we get together to “hit the sticks” (or whatever other euphemism we use to denote our testosterone-charged, button-mashing get-togethers), it’s great. It’s a form of bonding that we’ve shared for years, through adolescence and into adulthood. It’s something we love to do as often as we can.

Of course, if you were to walk in and not know that we were brothers and that this is part of our sacred male bonding time, you might think we were bitter enemies. Because we talk. We talk smack. We talk trash. We just talk. Or sometimes, during tense moments, we grunt and mutter. Occasionally, we might cuss. (I’m not proud of this, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t happen.)

Most importantly, we are obsessed with making the other person feel the bitter taste of defeat.

Yet, when the game is over, it’s all love.

Usually when we get together, my wife is somewhere else. This happens not by coincidence, but by design. Partially it happens because watching us duke it out on the XBOX is not Holly’s idea of a good time. But mostly it’s because she is a sensitive soul, and should not be exposed on a regular basis to the types of things that my brother and I yell at each other. Even though she knows my brother and I really do love each other and that video-game basketball has become a time-honored ritual, it’s probably still not the best idea for her to be present when Jomo and I are verbally dismembering each other. It’s just not very pleasant to be around.
Well, not for her, anyway. But for us, two brothers who naturally compete at anything recreational… it’s great.

What’s the lesson here? Context is everything.

* * *

Good Guys and Bad Guys

It’s an important lesson to learn, too.

Because sometimes you can miss out on layers of meaning when you don’t look at the whole equation. Sometimes things that look one way turn out to be quite another way. Sometimes good guys do bad things. Sometimes bad guys do good things. And most times, you can’t tell the difference at first glance.

That’s where context comes in. It helps you frame what you’re looking at, so you can tell what’s really going on.

Such was the case at U.S. Cellular Field on the South side of Chicago when the Chicago White Sox hosted the Chicago Cubs for a three game series of interleague baseball. During the game, Sox player A.J. Pierzynski got into an altercation with the Cubs’ Michael Barrett over a collision at home plate.

Well, “altercation” is a nice word for it. Basically, Barrett the catcher didn’t appreciate getting knocked over by Pierzynski the baserunner, especially since the outfielder’s throw to home was late. So after they both got up, Barrett socked Pierzynski in the mouth.

Now if that’s all you know about the situation, then it’s easy to call Barrett the bad guy and Pierzynski the good guy, especially since from the rulebook standpoint, Pierzynski’s play was legal. But that’s not all we know about the sitaution.

First, we know that A.J. Pierzynski has a history of getting into scrapes and altercations. He’s known for having somewhat of an abrasive attitude, which is part of the reason why he’s reviled in other towns and loved in Chicago. Also, we know that later in the game when he hit a home run off of Cubs pitcher Carlos Zambrano, Pierzynski tapped his heart and pointed to the sky, which is Zambrano’s signature move when he strikes out a batter. So basically he was trying to show up Zambrano by mimicking him.

We also know that tempers always flare during crosstown rivalries, and this one was even more intense because of the Cubs’ continued futility and the Sox having just won the World Series in 2005. So it’s possible that the Cubs were already on edge, because playing poorly in the same city where your bitter rivals are playing well… that’ll do a number on even the most docile of players. And, by the way, Barrett has his own history of bad behavior to contend with as well.

So you can call A.J. Pierzynski a bad guy if you want. Or you can call Michael Barrett a bad guy, since he was the one who threw the punch and started the bench-clearing brawl. But which way you go will depend largely on how you choose to frame the story. Text may tell the story, but context rules the ending.

Same type of thing happened during the first round of the NBA Playoffs, when the Los Angeles Lakers went up against the Phoenix Suns. Superstar baller Kobe Bryant was driving to the hoop when he was thrown to the ground by Suns defender Raja Bell. Bell was eventually suspended one game for the flagrant foul on Bryant.

End of story, right? Hardly.

During a press conference after the game, Raja Bell was asked by reporters why he fouled Bryant so hard, and Bell defended his actions by describing some of what he felt was overly physical play from Bryant. He was apologetic for letting down his teammates and taking inappropriate retaliation, but he said this about Bryant:

“I have no respect for him. I think he’s a pompous, arrogant individual.”

(Parenthetically, I just have to say that this is why I love the NBA. It’s reality TV and soap opera, all rolled into one.)

So later, after reporters told Kobe what Raja said about him, Kobe unleashed this piece of commentary:

“Do I know this guy? I don’t know this guy. I might have said one word to this guy. I think he overreacts to stuff. … I don’t think about him. … I don’t know this kid. I don’t need to know this kid. I don’t want to. We go out there and play the game and leave it at that. Maybe he wasn’t hugged enough as a kid. I look at him a little bit and he gets a little insecure about something.

At first, it sounds like Kobe’s trying to take the high road. No harm, no foul, let’s just move on. But that’s what Kobe wants you to think, because for the last two years he’s been desperate to rehabilitate his ailing public persona. You know, the one that was tarnished by rape allegations in Colorado.

Also, NBA fans know that Kobe is lying when he says he doesn’t know Raja Bell. The fact of the matter is Bell guarded Bryant extensively during the NBA Finals in 2001, when Bell played for the Philadelphia 76ers. And if that wasn’t enough, Bell has played in the Western conference for four years now, which means he probably had to guard Bryant every time his Phoenix Suns played Bryant’s Lakers, which happened several times a year.

In addition, Kobe Bryant called Raja Bell a kid, even though Bryant himself is a year younger. Add to that the not-enough-hugs line, and you can see the venom lurking under the surface. While his demeanor at the press conference might have been placid, Kobe wasn’t trying to bury the hatchet as much as he was trying to bury his opponent. Much like his coach Phil Jackson used to do, Kobe tried to pull a mindgame on Raja. He wanted not only to defeat him not only on the basketball court, but the court of public opinion.

Now Kobe Bryant is the ultimate competitor, one of the many reasons why he has repeatedly been compared to Michael Jordan. So his ultra-competitve nature is probably to blame for such vicious invective in the press. The bitter irony, though, is that it didn’t work. Phoenix went on to defeat L.A. in seven games. To add insult to defeat, Raja Bell’s mom got in the act. As Kobe walked from the court back to the locker room, she called out, “Kobe, need a hug?”

Now if the Lakers would have won the series, Bryant would have been heralded as a mastermind. Folks would’ve pointed to that press conference and said, See? Kobe is so good, he was able to get into their heads and affect their confidence. But that ain’t how it went. Raja Bell earned himself a suspension for his play against Kobe Bryant, but his team ultimately won the series. As Rasheed Wallace likes to say, the ball don’t lie. And in the context of wins and losses, Bryant came off looking like a chump.

These are two examples, but the list goes on in sports. Some people see two floppy-haired old friends in a restaurant eating dinner together; others see two-time NBA MVP Steve Nash eating with All-Star Dirk Nowitzki, each of them fraternizing with “the enemy” while their respective fan-bases howl in protest. Some see former Tennessee Titan quarterback Steve McNair and former Boston Red Sox center fielder Johnny Damon as traitors for signing with their division rivals (the Baltimore Ravens and New York Yankees, respectively). Others see jilted veterans just wanting to end up someplace where their skills are appreciated and properly compensated. It’s all in how you frame the story.

Sequels: Supremacy vs. Suckiness

What’s true in sports is also true in entertainment.

Specifically with films, context is key. To both filmmakers and critics alike, context helps to dictate the relative quality and enjoyability of a film. Particularly for pop-culture film franchises, movies are compared not only to what else may be playing at the time, but to earlier or later films in the series. If they can stand up to the comparison, then they are successful. If not, they tend to suck. It’s often as simple as that.

A great example of this is all of the Batman movies that have been made in the last two decades. The first two, Batman (1989) and Batman Returns (1992) were directed by Tim Burton and starred Michael Keaton as the eponymous superhero. Dark and brooding in tone, they were successful in resurrecting the Frank Miller character to the forefront of American pop culture. While a vocal minority of critics and parent advocacy groups thought the films were too nihilistic (read: violent and scary), their box-office success — and cumulative DVD rental revenue – have left the Burton/Keaton Batman legacy intact. As most hardcore fans will attest, these first two films were successful because they were true to the tone and feel of the original comic-book Batman character. The Burton / Keaton Batman resonated in the context of the original Batman.

But like Tom Cruise in Cocktail taught us, everything in life ends badly… or else it wouldn’t end. In the case of the Batman franchise, Warner Bros. was angling for a bigger piece of the pie. So for the third and fourth films they dumped director Tim Burton in favor of Joel Schumacher, who presided over the average Batman Forever and the horrid Batman and Robin. Critics almost unanimously agreed that these films were bad, in part, because they reverted to the cartoonish nature of the ’60s era Batman TV series.

Ironically, if the first two films had never been made, Schumacher’s adaptations of the Batman franchise might have been more widely appreciated. Played up for laughs and zaniness in the same vein as The Austin Powers movies, Batman and Robin might have been a critical successs. And then the ad blurb ‘splayed across the DVD cover would’ve been, “A JOYFUL ROMP!!!” rather than what it probably reads now, which is something along the lines of, “All the fun of a root canal for half the price!”

This problem of movie sequels not living up to their predecessors is widespread. It’s the same problem that most fans had with the Wachowski brothers’ sequels, The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions. Time and space do not permit me to fully digest all of the controversy that these films swirled up, but most fans who were disappointed with the movies won’t tell you that they were terrible films, but that they weren’t as good as the first one. And that’s because they couldn’t be as good as the first one. The law of diminishing returns proves that after you come up with anything as hot and crazy and visceral as The Matrix, the more times you go back into that arena the less enjoyable it’ll be. The novelty will eventually wear off.

So whereas in the first film, when you saw Neo doing all the crazy kung-fu machine gun acrobatics, it was like, ohh dude, that’s AWESOME. But the second time around you see the same type of scene and you’re like, hmm… that’s nice. Not quite the same experience. Larry and Andy tried to make up for this by contorting the plot into a series of philosophical brain-twisters, but for a lot of folks it didn’t work.

So as individual films, the Matrix sequels were technically laudable, and thus, good. But as sequels, not so good. Context strikes again.

Public Policy? Preposterous

This idea of context is useful when you’re dealing in the low-stakes realms of sports and entertainment. Because after all, regardless of which teams win their respective championships or which movie studios make the most money with their films, the lives of regular folk like us won’t be affected a whole lot.

But when you’re dealing with public policy and politics, context becomes even more meaningful, because now you’re talking about stuff that affects everybody. Jobs, money, safety, schools… these are universals that just about everyone has a stake in.

So when you read the paper or you turn on the news, you need to have an awareness of what’s really going on. To do so, you need to look beyond the spin of what The Man wants you to think to get to where the truth actually lives.

This is where context comes in quite handily.

Take, for example, taxes. Oliver Wendell Holmes said that taxes are the price we pay for living in a civilized society. The idea here is that as citizens of the state, we choose to relinquish part of our income in order to benefit from public benefits like roads, schools, homeland security, etc. In theory, this is all well and good. Our acceptance of this model tends to hinge on our belief in the integrity and prudence of government spending. We’ll put up with taxes as long as we think that money is being spent wisely.

But how do we know if it is, in fact, being spent wisely? Or, more to the point, how can we tell what wise spending looks like? Governments often try to address this problem by drafting tax plans to address specific problems. Many states in the U.S., for example, tax cigarettes very heavily. They do so under the understanding that the money they’re getting by taxing the tobacco industry should be spent on helping to fix the overall health and wellness of the populace, many of whom are smokers. Big tobacco has made money by making people sick, the idea goes, so we should recoup some of that money by helping them to get well.

The state of Oregon, where I now reside, has such an arrangement in place. But John A. Charles of the Cascade Policy Institute takes issue with the way the state is spending this money.

However, each state is free to spend the money any way it wants, and many legislators are treating the fund as a cash cow. For example, on April 17 tobacco makers turned over $66.3 million to Oregon. More than 88 percent of that money will be spent for debt service on bonds that have nothing to do with public health, while less than 12 percent will go to the Oregon Health Plan. None of the funds will be spent on tobacco cessation programs, even though cigarette smokers are the ones paying for the settlement.

Charles recently appeared on The Georgene Rice Show to make this same point — which is, essentially, that the taxation of cigarettes by the state of Oregon becomes grossly immoral when the state doesn’t use that money to help people stop smoking and live better lives. Not only that, but Charles goes further, alleging that the state’s use of “sin taxes” (also called “vice taxes”) on things like alcohol, cigarettes and lottery tickets do more to encourage those behaviors than discourage them, because the state ends up counting on the revenues they bring in.

So basically, the state justifies taking money from its citizens by promising to use it to help pay for health care, but then uses that money for other purposes. On the surface it seems like a good policy, but in the context of the state’s overall spending patterns, it turns rotten.

Now don’t get me wrong here. I’m not a shill for the Republican party. I can’t stand cigarette smoke. I think it’s gross, and I generally don’t like hanging around with people who smoke on a regular basis. I’ve watched The Insider several times, and I think the tobacco industry should pay for duping the American public into thinking its product wasn’t addictive when they know good and well that it was.

Having said that, it’s unconscionable for the state of Oregon to latch onto a group of socially-acceptable scapegoats (smokers) and hide behind a shield of altruism in order to continue its pattern of bloated spending — especially when that spending doesn’t go toward helping its citizens stop smoking. Talk about mixed messages. That one ranks up there with my favorite billboard slogan, “SAVE THE ENVIRONMENT. WEAR FURS.”


Read The Word. In Context.

So now that you’ve learned about the power of context in sports, entertainment, and public policy, turn your attention to the place where it is most critical — The Word of God.
For Christians, the Bible should be the foundation of our understanding. It should shape what we think about everything. But too often we misunderstand the Scripture when we don’t read it holistically, with understanding about the context.

The underrated emcee Flame does a song about this on his sophomore album, Rewind. It’s called, appropriately, “Context”:

With this skill, it’ll keep you from heresy / And keep you from going through theological therapy, yup / The Words of God’ll change your life / if you keep these texts in context.

The song is pretty light-hearted, and gets pretty good mileage out of old seminary punchlines (“‘Icy Jesus?!’ Naw, I said eisegesis, fam”). But the message is undeniable, and one that needs to be learned by all Christians. Unless you know and understand each Scripture in its context, you don’t know the Word of God.

Consider the popular refrigerator-magnet favorite Philippians 4:13.

It reads in the New King James Version as, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Sounds good, doesn’t it? Sounds like something Tony Robbins would quote, as he’s trying to get you to visualize success. That verse has been quoted ad nauseam, by a variety of Christians, in a variety of ways, usually in the vein of: Go-get-em, tiger! You can do it! You can do anything you set your mind to! You can be a star! You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you!

There’s only one problem here. That interpretation isn’t exactly consistent with the context. Read the whole passage (this time in the NIV for clarity):

I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you have been concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.

What the Apostle Paul is talking about here is not achievement, but humility. In his letter to the church at Philippi (you know, the Philippians, hence the name) he is speaking about the generosity of the church members who had helped him pay for his living expenses while he was there ministering to them. What he was saying was that he’s okay regardless of how much money he has.

Now there are many miraculous stories in the Bible, and many verses of Scripture that speak of God’s awesome power and miraculous deeds. But Philippians 4:13 isn’t really one of them. And when we choose to read our own ideas into the text rather than letting the whole text speak for itself, then we miss out on the wisdom therein.

Especially concerning this verse. Because lets face it, you can take voice lessons, sing in the church choir, and watch “American Idol” until your face turns blue, but that won’t necessarily turn you into a top-quality vocalist. The point of Phil 4:13 is NOT that you can do anything you set your mind to. But many Christians believe that is the point, and often sidetrack their lives trying to pursue goals that are not what God has called them to do.

The real lesson in Phil 4:13 is that God can help us walk through whatever situation we’re in, and we can be grateful either way. If money is short, then God can teach us lessons on frugality and valuing people over money. On the other hand, if we have plenty and our refrigerators are stocked and there’s plenty in the bank, then we have an opportunity to be a blessing to others. So either way, if we’re walking with God, we’re gonna be okay.

That can be a hard message to swallow, because most of us would rather be on the cover of People than on the brink of starvation. That’s just human nature. But humility is something that each of us can attain. It’s not just for super-spiritual people like Mother Teresa. Yet you’ll never unlock that beautiful truth if you’re stuck trying to become rich and famous.

What Does It All Mean?

The point of this whole essay is to convince you of the importance of getting the whole story. Everyone has their version of the truth, but not everyone knows the Truth. Mastering the learning of context is getting a balanced perspective on a matter. It means you measure a public statement not only on whether or not it sounds good or makes sense, but also by who said it and what that person has done or said in the past. Is that person trustworthy? Do they have a history of being correct? Can they admit when they’re wrong?

If you can successfully answer those types of questions, then you’ll have more than just something to read.

You’ll have something to say.

I’m G*Natural; thanks for mixin’ it up with me.