Among our tasks as witnesses to the love of Christ is that of giving a voice to the cry of the poor. – Pope Francis addressing, Justin, Archbishop of Canterbury

I get a lot of emails telling me how to be a better bishop, why I’m wrong about this or that issue, or how I’d be acceptable to the writer if I just did what they want. And then there are my favorite emails, ones beginning with something like: “How dare you…” If I followed each directive of my correspondents, then I’d be more of a mess than I am and I’d probably end up on the floor mumbling incoherently in a straight jacket.

I recently received some emails criticizing our Church’s work rebuilding our cathedral in Haiti, the one that was destroyed by the earthquake in January 2010. Some of these folks told me that with the deep poverty in Haiti, it was just wrong for us to raise millions of dollars to rebuild our cathedral there. Such money should go to poverty relief. Other emails came at it from a different direction: the Haitian people were corrupt and simply incapable of managing anything by themselves. They would just waste whatever we gave them and nothing would change.

These two criticisms might be characterized respectively as first a liberal one, and second, as a conservative one. What both of these criticisms have in common is that they approach their position first through a secular, socio-political lens. Sadly, I see this a lot from disciples of Jesus. For example, when I read Facebook postings from Christians, their critique of an issue often seems to come a priori from their socio-political outlook. Then they often try to find a way to fit in the Gospel to justify their position. Shouldn’t it be the other way around with our politics being shaped by the Gospel?

Whether it be the proper role of government in the U.S., or addressing the scandal of hungry children in our communities, or how best to help the Haitian people, we must begin with the lens of the Gospel of Jesus. At times that will make disciples of Jesus seem liberal and at other times it’ll make us look conservative to the larger world. And sometimes it’ll make us just appear crazy to those not shaped by the radical grace of the Good News of Jesus. Too many of us are hung up on trying to be consistently liberal or unswervingly conservative rather than constantly faithful to the teachings of Jesus. That means our politics shape our discipleship. And it should be the other way around.

This isn’t to suggest that there are clear programmatic answers found in the teachings of Jesus on how to alleviate poverty or the related issue of “income inequality.” But it’s to suggest that if we aren’t working hard to help the poor, then we’re plainly ignoring Jesus. Poor people should haunt every disciple of Jesus. I hear some Christians blame poor people for being poor as if it were some sort of “just dessert.” I hear others who think that if we just had the right government program, then it would absolve them from any direct responsibility. Both are shaping their respective responses through the wrong lens. We’re never going to get this completely right this side of heaven, but all our efforts should proceed directly from the grace incarnated in the Gospel of Jesus.

+Scott

 

I’m not much for New Year’s resolutions because I’ve never been able to keep any of those ones I’ve made. All they do is make me feel bad when I fail once again to do what I said I was going to do or what I think I should be doing. This begins a downward spiral that leads me to reach the conclusion that I’m a pretty sorry human being if I can’t even keep one, small resolution. About all these failed resolutions do for me is to prove the Gospel truth that I’m a sinner with inconsistent resolve. Not a news flash. No need for film at 11 p.m. I guess I could resolve never to make another New Year’s resolution, but then that would be a resolution and I’d probably not keep that one either.

Our lack of resolve (I assume you share it to some extent) is just one sign of our sinful human nature. And you and I live in a time where any sin gets amplified by the every present media, social and otherwise, as if human sin were somehow breaking news. Whether it be Phil Robertson from Duck Dynasty whose ignorant remarks about women and race have been written about ad nauseam or New Hampshire state Representative David Campbell who recently plowed down a group of ducks that he said didn’t move out of the way fast enough in front of his BMW, our response seems to be to fly into a morally superior outrage and utter something to the effect of “how dare he!”

This isn’t to suggest that we should support either Mr. Robertson’s or Mr. Campbell’s remarks or actions, but it’s to suggest that maybe we should check out the beam in our own eye a bit more often, especially if we’re going to base our outrage on our Christian faith. You see, central to the Christian faith is the Good News of Jesus, and not the good behavior of Christians. The Good News is while we remain sinners Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). But so much of Christianity today is less about that Good News and more about how Christians, especially prominent public ones, should be living blameless lives.

I think this is one of the reasons some people would just as soon stay home on Sundays and not join the Church for worship. Why would anyone want to come to a place of worship where they have no expectation of receiving Good News? They may suspect that if they do come for worship, then they’ll be judged because their lives don’t measure up. This is akin to the cartoon of Charlie Brown preparing to kick the football only to have Lucy yank it away at the last second. Grace is dangled for them like the football in front of Charlie Brown, but as they approach it, it’s swiftly removed by an insistence on moral performance. The Church then becomes less a community where sinners receive mercy and more a community where those gathered can pharisaicly thank God that they’re not like other people who clearly must be worse sinners than they are (see Luke 18:11).

Yes, the Church is, as the old saying goes, both a hospital for sinners and an academy for saints. But sinful saints are made only through the medicine of God’s grace and never through the performance evaluation of one another. In Jesus’ cross, we sinners are given the “balm” in Gilead, not the “bomb” of Gilead. If you’re going to make a New Year’s resolution, resolve to ask for God’s help in being quicker to show mercy, but slower to pronounce judgment on those who don’t measure up to your performance standard.

+Scott

 

America has had a civil religion for all of her history. It’s the religion that’s invoked at government functions such as city council meetings and at other public or sporting events. This civil religion is now so ingrained in our culture that many people can’t differentiate it from the particular claims of Christianity. While this civil religion lacks overt doctrinal convictions (it needs such lacking to be so widely accepted), it does, in a kind of passive-aggressive way, make claims about God and humanity. Our civil religion claims:

  • God created and continues to order the world.
  • God is absent from the particulars of daily life unless God is needed to solve problems, provide solace to the grieving, or to win a sporting event.
  • God wants all people to be good, kind, and happy and that’s our goal in life.
  • Good, kind, and happy people go to heaven when they die.

As this civil religion continues to grow in its approbation, it shouldn’t surprise any of us in the Church why people say that they don’t need to be part of a Church or other religious community to have a relationship with God. In such a belief system, who needs the Church or a religious community as an external authority of the Divine? Each person can have a relationship with God unmoored from any particular tradition or practice. This is the logical distortion of the understanding of the “Priesthood of All Believers.” Or, as John Prine sang so eloquently, they “can all find Jesus on their own.”

In his book, Habits of the Heart, Robert Bellah described a woman named Sheila who practiced a religion she called “Sheilaism,” which she described as being good as she could possibly be to herself. If she treated herself well, she’d do the same to others. In some ways “Sheilaism” is the quintessential civil religion. It’s a worldview of total liberation for the individual from any authority other than his/her own judgment. Since there’s no authority that’s outside people’s judgment to guide them on their search for meaning, purpose, and destiny in their lives, then the individual is left to his/her own devices. Searching for God’s desires for one’s life then becomes a de facto search for oneself and the “baptizing” of one’s own worldview.

For those outside of the Church this appears to be exactly how they understand their freedom, particularly their religious freedom. And they see this as a positive thing. But in truth, it’s just another form of bondage. They simply become slaves to their own desires and worldviews. Or, as George Bernard Shaw said: “Hell is where you have to do what you want to do.” Or maybe as John Prine sang: “Your flag decal won’t get you into Heaven anymore.”

This is our evangelistic challenge for this generation: to persuade others that the particular claims of the Gospel of Christ are the truth; that they aren’t synonymous with our civil religion; and, that a distorted understanding of religious freedom only brings greater bondage. This won’t be easy as we are facing a civil religion that has built up a head of steam for some time now. Nevertheless, go and make disciples.

+Scott

 

The Need for Insurgents in the Church (eCrozier #164)

Fred Kaplan’s new book entitled, The Insurgents, tells the story of how the American military changed its approach to the Iraqi war based on a counterinsurgency strategy. After much failure, the military acknowledged that it needed to engage in a different kind of warfare. In the first years of the Iraqi occupation the standard approach had been to go in with overwhelming force, bash down doors, and kill as many of the enemy as possible. Often this resulted in the killing of civilians and the complete destruction of people’s property. This made the population enraged and simply created more enemies. The counterinsurgency strategy, as Kaplan writes, was focused on cultural/religious sensitivity, earning the trust of the people, and being committed to their welfare and safety. The military called this: “winning the hearts and minds of the people.”

The title of the book doesn’t refer to a group of Iraqis. It actually refers to American military leaders who had to overcome the entrenched mindset of the top generals by challenging the long-standing military dogma that only knew of one way that warfare worked. These military leaders approached the challenge as if they were fighting a land war in Europe with the old Soviet Union. The Insurgents were younger officers willing to question that approach and let real experience and the context on the ground guide their actions. They jettisoned the old, standard ways because they were not working and would never work in the new context of Iraq.

It occurs to me this is a lesson for the Church. In using the example of the Iraqi war, I don’t want to get sidetracked by debating its efficacy. That is not my point in using this example. My point rather is that we as a church need some of our own insurgents, people who are willing to question the assumptions about how we engage in mission. Conservatives believe that they can simply repackage their tactics, put a smile and a latte on their message of hellfire and damnation, and all will work out fine for the Church. Liberals do their own repackaging, desiring to water down the Gospel’s call to radically follow Jesus, thinking that will be less offensive, and hoping that will bring in more people to pay church bills.

Both, in my opinion, are still fighting the equivalent of a European land war with the Soviet Union. The Church must address the Gospel of Jesus to people’s lives as they truly are in this anxious and confusing culture. Scaring them with Hell or implying it does not matter how they live has not and will not produce any fruit. We need our own counterinsurgency, a new Christian way that calls everyone to the radical path of Jesus; one that unashamedly confesses that Jesus is both Savior and Lord, but one that speaks clearly and truthfully to the unchartered waters the people of our culture are now in.

The temptation will be to go back to what is known and comfortable. For conservatives that will mean just doubling down on the Ozzie & Harriett worldview that will never be again. For liberals, it will mean hoping people will be a bit nicer, more tolerant of others who differ, and more generous. No wonder fewer and fewer people are listening to either voice. They know in their hearts that neither one is compelling or truthful.

+Scott

 

The economy seems to be on everyone’s mind this fall as the election season burns on and candidates on all levels tell us what’s wrong with the economy and how, if we elect them, they will fix it to make us individually better off. This promise they make, that is, to make me as an individual “better off,” is, of course, an appeal to my self-interest, and to some extent, my selfishness. Because in the reptilian part of my brain, the lizard inside is telling me to protect what is mine and get just a bit more if I can. The candidates really do want me to ask: Am I “better off” now than I was four years ago?”

I noticed this in the recent town hall presidential debate. Both candidates addressed each questioner as if the candidate was a personal problem solver, and if elected, he would put in place such policies that would make them personally better off financially. I know the candidates have been advised by the legion who direct their every move to do this. These advisors have done the research and crunched the numbers. They know that candidates need to make such appeals to self-interest, maybe even selfishness, or the candidate in question won’t get elected. They are thus counting on us to selfishly vote our self-interest as if self-interest were not only primary, but also something simply deduced as what is economically best for me right now.

But, we must know, what is best for us cannot be reduced to such facile, empirical measurements as what puts more money in our pockets today. For example, what if there were a free market for human kidneys and applying the standard of what would make a person “better off” financially were applied? If a buyer and a seller could come to agreement on a price for the kidney, the deal clearly, under this rubric, makes both parties “better off.” The buyer gets a life-saving new organ and the seller gets enough money to make the sacrifice worthwhile. Both are “better off.” We must ask though: do we really want to live in a world where such an economic deal can be done?

Financial reasoning and moral reasoning are not the same. Pure financial self-interest cannot and must not be the plumb line for moral reasoning. In fact, I would say, as Christians, if our economic self-interest is the prime driver of our behavior and choices, then we need to do some serious soul-searching. Yet, as I observe many people who seek to follow Jesus as his disciples, they have cordoned off his teaching from their own economic understanding and practices. We all need to reconnect the Gospel of Jesus to how we think and act around what we understand to be our economic self-interest.

In this Sunday’s Gospel (Mark 10:35-45) Jesus teaches his disciples about how they need to be different from the standards of the world. His teaching there is principally about desiring power over other people and how it should not be so among those who follow him; they should seek to be servants. But his teaching has broader implications and is therefore related to issues of economic self-interest. James and John in the story wanted what they considered their due. In a sense, they wanted to be personally “better off.” But Jesus calls them out of their myopic self-interest to see their lives and their purpose in life quite differently. I pray we can do the same.

+Scott

 

We all have things we are sheepish about, particularly those things we know are sort of silly, but we like them anyway. Some call them “guilty pleasures.” I, like you, have them. So, I have a confession about my guilty pleasure: I like Superman – the comic books, the TV shows, the movies – all of them. I like Superman because, whatever trouble Lois Lane or Jimmy Olson ever got into, Superman could get them out. Whether they were in a car heading for a cliff or in a plane crashing to the ground, he would always rescue them “faster than a speeding bullet.”

I used to see Jesus as a Superman, only it wasn’t Lois and Jimmy in trouble, it was the disciples. In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus and his disciples are in a boat crossing the Sea of Galilee. A raging storm comes upon the sea, so Jesus steps up and says: “Peace! Be still!” and the storm calms and everyone is safe. But in the Book of Job, God isn’t described as Superman, but rather as a mother who gave birth to the sea and who wrapped the clouds in diapers. This calls to mind that old Gospel: “Jesus, Savior, Pilot me,” where it says “as a mother stills her child thou canst hush the ocean wild.” So, maybe Jesus, rather than shouting at the storm, is actually singing a lullaby to it? “Peace, be still.”

I know from experience that you can’t calm a crying child playing Superman. I’ve tried it. I’ve thrown out my chest and yelled: “Hush!” It doesn’t work. Superman would be as helpless as I was with a crying child. He could force the child into silence by his strength, but a mother who calms a crying child does so using a different kind of power: the power of love. When a mother hears her child cry, she goes to the child and holds it securely. It’s not superhuman strength that calms the child, but rather it’s the loving arms of the mother and her closeness that gives her the power to calm her child.

I believe Jesus stills the storm like a mother calms her crying child. That means we should take the Gospel to others in lullabies, not shouts. We should hold others in the arms of love the way a mother holds a child. We should share the Good News the way a mother pleads with her child and not in the way that Superman dispatches evil ones. The Superman way isn’t the way of the cross. We need less high-testosterone evangelism and more maternal evangelism. I’m not suggesting some weak proclamation of the Gospel. We should never associate maternal love with weakness. I don’t know about your momma, but there’s nothing weak about my momma. She’s always been a force to be reckoned with.

No one will truly come to Jesus through high-powered force. And, even if they did, it wouldn’t be true to the mind of Christ. God’s love for us is more powerful than anything we could ever imagine, but it’s conveyed to us in a way that’s the exact opposite from how the world defines power. We live in a world that is crying out for God’s love, but does not know it. Our families and communities need it. The bitter partisanship we see across our nation should tell us that our nation needs it. Being true to heart of God, can we give up the “Muscular Christianity” we see being so ham-handedly displayed these days and simply learn to love one another with a motherly tenacity?

+Scott

 

Good Friday Meditation (eCrozier #130)

We have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. (Hebrews 10:10)

Conventional wisdom says: “Don’t let things go to your head.” That usually refers to people who, because of their circumstances, might think of themselves more highly than they ought to think. It’s a way to keep one grounded with one’s ego in check. Yet, we should let some things “go to our heads,” for we remember Jesus, not sentimentally to eulogize the great deeds of his life or gruesomely to have a morbid fascination with the mechanics of crucifixion. Rather, we remember Jesus’ work on the cross. Jesus’ cross reminds us that we’re a “sanctified” people. We have been made holy in God’s eyes. Note this is in the passive mood. We have not made ourselves holy. That’s not our realm of competency or authority. God has done this for us without our permission and foreknowledge.

I imagine we don’t often think of ourselves as especially holy people. If we did it might “go to our heads.” Well, it ought to go to our heads, not so we can feel superior to others, but so we can live into God’s love and desire for us. God has made us a holy people for a reason. Our holiness isn’t a badge of honor we wear in order to exclude others, but rather it’s a way of life we receive and adopt so we can invite others to live into God’s love and desire for them. Being made holy means being so humbled by God’s love on the cross that we humbly invite others to join us in this holy life. We’re merely “beggars showing other beggars where to find food.” We should let that go to our heads.

This is accomplished “through the offering of the body of Christ.” Jesus in his life and death doesn’t offer us mere words of wisdom or secrets for successful living. Jesus offers up his body. In Dickens’ The Tale of Two Cities, Charles Darnay ends up on the gallows saying: “it is a far, far better thing I do now than I have ever done before.” Jesus will have none of that. He’s there to offer up his body as a sacrifice for our sin. Modern people are often put off by the bodily image of Jesus on the cross. But offering his body showed the depth of God’s love for us. Jesus wasn’t concerned about putting his reputation on the line. His concern was for us and he offered his body to prove it. In our discipleship as a people made holy by God, we need to be less concerned with our reputations, less captivated by our words. We should let that go to our heads as well.

And this is “once for all.” As people made holy by Jesus’ cross, we still can find ourselves in despair of our sin. No matter where we are or who we are, sin lies close at hand. We should take that reality seriously, but we shouldn’t take ourselves too seriously in that reality. Jesus died for the sins of the world, “once for all.” He doesn’t need to die again each time we sin. That’s giving sin way too much power in our lives. We must be bold enough to live like our sins have been forgiven, that the death Jesus died, he died, once for all. In the words of that old Gospel hymn “It’s been done.” That’s why our sin should never lead us to despair. And that’s why we’re liberated so we can dare to be holy people. Jesus died for our sins once for all. We should let that go to our heads as well.

+Scott

 

eCrozier #126

St Paul writes in Romans: “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” Even though we sin against God and defy God, God still loves us. But why? People who don’t think about that question probably haven’t given much attention to their sinfulness. If we think that we’re basically OK, that we’ve done nothing to draw us away from God, then it wouldn’t make any sense to wonder why God loves us. We’d conclude that God should love us because we deserve nothing less – we’re that lovable.

So, our question wouldn’t be “why?” but rather “why not?” For this question to gnaw at us, we must know ourselves to be separated from God by our sin. I fall into this category. Like the writer, Frederick Buechner, I see the Gospel of Jesus as bad news before I see it as Good News. Buechner writes: “The Gospel is the bad news that we are sinners; that we are evil in the imagination of our hearts; that when I look in the mirror each morning what I see, at least in part, is a chicken, a phony, and a slob. That’s the bad news.”

I don’t share this so some people might have the satisfaction of saying: “I just knew bishops were like that.” No, I share it because it’s the truth. But I also share it with some concern because we live in a culture where people have lost the capacity to hear such truth. People love to hear celebrities talk about how awful they were, how addicted they were, etc. There’s a certain voyeurism in our obsession with other people’s sin. But that’s not the real problem. The real problem is that there’s no repentance in such talk. It’s merely a way for people to say: “Isn’t that just awful.”

So, when I agree with Frederick Buechner that I too am “a chicken, a phony, and a slob” you might be tempted to say: “Isn’t that nice, I saw someone like that on Oprah once.” But it’s not the same. That’s why I’m concerned with letting you know what I see when I look in the mirror. Not because you’d discover I was a sinner – good Lord, that’s not news – but because I run the risk of placing my bad news (and yours) in the wrong context, namely Oprah and not the Bible.

We must place our bad news in the proper context: The Gospel of Jesus and not our culture. The Gospel can only be good news after we first face the bad news. As Buechner writes: “The Gospel of Jesus Christ is the news that we are loved anyway, in spite of our sin – that we’re cherished by God, forgiven, bleeding to be sure, but also bled for.”

But why does God love us anyway? The Bible never says why. It’s as if that’s a ridiculous question even to ask. The Bible assumes that it’s simply God’s very nature to love us.

In the middle of the 20th century, the great theologian, Karl Barth, was taking questions from a group of seminarians in Chicago. One seminarian wanting to show off asked Barth to tell them the greatest truth of the Christian faith. Barth smiled and said, “Jesus loves me this I know, cause the Bible tells me so.”

+Scott

 

As a Church, we face many external challenges from an increasingly post-Christian culture. Those challenges include, but are not limited to, a growing ignorance of just what the Christian Gospel means. A generation ago, if someone referred to another as a “Prodigal Son,” then many people would’ve known that term referenced Jesus’ parable about a father who forgave his son. I don’t think we’re there anymore as a culture. I believe, however, our internal challenges are even greater.  It’s also more pressing that we address them. Besides, we have very little influence over the larger culture. And we can deal with how the Gospel is taught and lived out in our Church.

Ann Tyler, in her book, Saint Maybe, tells the story of Ian Bedloe, who as a 17 year-old mistakenly tells his older brother that his brother’s wife is having an affair. His brother angrily drives away recklessly in his car. Soon after, Ian learns that his brother has died in a car wreck, apparently from being so distraught over the accusation. His brother’s widow is shattered by the loss and a few years later, consumed by the grief, she dies leaving three young children. Ian is racked with guilt over what he seemingly caused. Seeking forgiveness for his sins, he visits a storefront church called the “Church of the Second Chance.” There he learns there’s no such thing as cheap forgiveness. He must do something particular about the lives he has devastated. The church’s pastor counsels him to take responsibility for raising his dead brother’s three children.

Ian does this. The story comes to an end when he’s middle-aged and all three children are grown. As he reflects on how his life turned out, he wonders if he’ll ever experience forgiveness and absolution for what he did. As a young man, he sacrificed his own dreams in order to raise his brother’s children. In an apocalyptic moment, he realizes he hadn’t been doing penance all along. Having the privilege of raising the children into fine adults was a gift he never could’ve expected. As this comes to him, he experiences the forgiveness he has longed for. It was in the actual practice of the Christian faith that Ian discovered the truth of what he was taught at the “Church of the Second Chance.”

Tyler’s book calls into question some of the misguided assumptions many people have about forgiveness, grace, and what it means to live the Christian life. And that continues to be an internal challenge for us as a Church. The Church needs to be abundantly clear about Jesus’ Gospel of forgiveness and grace and then preach and teach it consistently. Jesus’ Gospel demands a response from us not passive assent or thoughtful intent.

Many people in the Church today want to be tended and serviced, not served and led. We don’t lead and serve them truthfully if we somehow convey to them that being a disciple of Jesus can be reduced to church attendance, a few bucks in the offering plate, and just saying we’re sorry when we sin. Discipleship must engage our whole being. It’s who we are, what we do, all the time, even when no one else is looking. Internally in the Church, we must teach people that. Rather than bemoan what our culture has become or seek to use it as an excuse for passive resignation, let’s get clear on what the Gospel demands of us and then let’s respond.

+Scott

 

eCrozier #91

Recent research reported in the Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin analyzed personal choice in the distance between people when they sat together (the link is here: http://psp.sagepub.com/content/early/2011/04/05/0146167211402094.abstract

The researchers discovered people tend to sit closer to others who look like them or have similar traits. For example, people who wear glasses often choose to sit closer to others who are wearing glasses. Likewise, people with longer hair tend to sit closer to other people with similar length in hair. The researchers postulated that people who were in the research group assumed that others with similar physical traits would also share their attitudes and so they could more comfortably sit closer to them. Drawing this conclusion out, we might say we assume that we’re more likely to be accepted by people like us.

A lot of church growth strategy picks up on this. Such strategies direct us to discover who is already in our churches and then target growth by reaching out to folks who look like us, share our traits, and have similar attitudes. The thinking here goes something like this: when people visit our churches they want to see people who look like them so they will be more comfortable and will be more likely to stay as members (and maybe sit close to us, but not too close to us, in the pew). This has been the central strategy of the mega-church movement, particularly in the small groups they form to build up the church. That is why it is not uncommon to find such groups comprised, for example, of divorced fathers in their late thirties each with two children.

In some ways, this is just common sense. It stands to reason that people would be more comfortable around people that looked like them, shared a similar dress code and appearance, and had similar attitudes and convictions about the world. In such places, we get confirmation for how we are, who we have made ourselves into, and what we have chosen to display to others. We get affirmed by who we are and the outward stance we have adopted to the rest of the world.

If this research accurately describes our human condition, then the Gospel of Jesus is even more counter-cultural than we might have previously thought. For the Gospel is the radical message that all people, no matter what they’ve become or how they’ve chosen to be in the world, have been loved and forgiven by God through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ on the cross. The cultural overlay of appearance does not matter to God, “for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus (Galatians 3:26-28).

So then to bring it home to our own day, whether we are “clothed” in glasses or long hair, whether we are “clothed” with black skin or white skin, whether we are “clothed” in a Brooks Brothers suit or something off the rack at Wal-Mart, none of that matters to God. And, here is where it hits home to our own stuff, it better not matter to us.

+Scott