Dual Citizenship Requires Maturity–and God’s Help

Note: This column was written on January 19, 2021.

Tomorrow is Inauguration Day. It’s a particularly good time to think about our citizenship, I think. And I think it’s a particularly good time for me to stay off of Facebook and other social media for at least a day or two. Even as I think social media companies’ increasing censorship of free speech is unwise, I think my increasing censorship of my own speech is a responsibility of my citizenship. Whatever rants from whatever blusterers (and I can be a blusterer) do show up on Facebook are posts I do well to scroll past on Facebook’s best day. And I doubt Inauguration Day will be its best day.

As a citizen of the United States, I desire to be neither “an unloving critic or an uncritical lover,” and I refuse to believe those are the only options open to me or to you. This is not the only nation justly worthy of her citizens’ love, but I am not a citizen of other nations; I am a citizen of this one. I see no more virtue in being willfully blind to her flaws than I do to being willfully blind to her virtues. This nation has both, but I cannot imagine how anyone could be so blind as to say that the world would have been better off had this nation not been born. The debt of gratitude that I owe this land of my birth is so deep as to be far beyond any sacrifice I could ever make.

That said, my baptism proclaims that my primary citizenship is in the kingdom of God, and my citizenship in any earthly kingdom is vastly beneath it. It must always be that first allegiance to the kingdom of God that colors and informs my citizenship in any nation of this world. My King has told His people that allegiance to Him must outweigh even family relationships, relationships with father, mother, husband, wife, and children. If I must choose, I must choose for Him. But loving Him most will usually mean loving them more wisely and better than I do now, not less. My King has told me in Scripture to pray for my earthly king, for leaders and authorities, and to obey them whenever possible. I suspect that loving Him most will usually mean that I must love them more wisely and better than I do now, not less.

When the Apostle Paul tells us, commands us, in 1 Timothy 2 to pray for “kings and those in authority” and the Apostle Peter tells us, commands us, in 1 Peter 2 to “submit” ourselves to “the king” and “honor” him, we do well to listen and obey. We do well to remember the poignant and pointed truth that the Emperor then was crazy and bloodthirsty Nero, the very man who would put both apostles to death. And I doubt that either apostle as he wrote would have been surprised by that or changed his words.

So the commands to “pray for,” “submit to,” and “honor” are not contingent upon our having voted for the “king” or feeling warmly kind, soft-hearted, and generous toward him. The Apostle Paul says specifically in 1 Timothy 2 that we are to pray for our governmental leaders “in order that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness” (2:2) and he says “this pleases God our Savior.”

I’ll go out on a limb here and say that, if I’m as serious about my heavenly citizenship as I should be, and if I’m serious about “pleasing God our Savior,” and if I’m listening to what two martyred apostles (and the Holy Spirit, I think) command us, Facebook rants on Inauguration Day are probably out of bounds for me. And if the Apostles Peter and Paul can urge citizens of God’s kingdom to pray even for Nero, I’m probably not going to get a pass if I refuse to pray for whoever is inaugurated on whatever Inauguration Day here whether it makes me happy or not.

Dual citizenship is hard. My citizenship in this earthly land should require me at least to try to act like an adult. But my citizenship in God’s kingdom requires me to try to act like His Son. I need His grace to try to do any of that.

You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2021 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

What Kind of Change Is Positive?

Change. I love it.

Yes, and I also love each morning to throw open the blinds immediately to retina-scorching sunlight and then to jump into pep-rally-volume conversation.

If you believe any of the wretched falsehoods above, you surely don’t know me at all. If you think I love “change” . . .

Evidently, to be a “progressive,” not a label I love, desire, trust, or in any way covet, one must accept the notion that change itself is always change for the better.

“What we need is change! Vote for change! CHANGE!”

Don’t folks realize that, by definition, change can go in two basic directions? When my appendix went bad, my body recorded a significant change, but I’d never happily vote for such.

And I would think that “progress,” as in “progressive,” implies change in a positive direction. How is change in a backwards direction progress? If it is, well, forgive me for referring yet again to my appendix, but, as I recall, the more progressive it became, the less I appreciated the change. The various members of my body soon voted unanimously that it be cast out to progress on its own as best it could.  

So, no; I’ve got some serious opinions about the kind of “change” I’d like to see. I just prefer real progress to the moonshine in the fruit juice being served by today’s self-styled “progressives.”

And I’ve long been wary of the kind of change/progress that proceeds from those bone-chilling words, “I’m from the government, and I’m here to help you.”

Politician X or Politician Y from Political Party A or Political Party B yells out a message: “I’ve got this great idea for change!” But what doesn’t seem to change these days is that whichever party wins, the country loses as we’re assailed with years of conspiracy theories and whining. It’s remarkable how similar whining always sounds. Have you noticed? When you’re trying to watch a movie and a baby is yowling, it’s awfully hard to tell whether the kid is a Democrat or a Republican.

“Change” in big business is rarely any more heartwarming. I’m always aware of a “hold onto your wallet and back away slowly” feeling when I get the letters we all get, fairly regularly, written in corporate-speak: “In our never-ending and tireless efforts to serve you better, . . .”

No. Please. I beg you. Go tirelessly serve somebody else. Just leave me alone.

My wife recently shared a quote from a book she was reading (by Alexander McCall Smith) in which a wise African man explains to his daughter: “That is the problem with governments these days. They want to do things all the time; they are always very busy thinking of what things they can do next. That is not what people want. People want to be left alone to look after their cattle.”

That reminds me of the prophet Micah’s description of God-brought peace—a time when “every man will sit under his own vine and under his own fig tree, and no one will make them afraid” (4:4).

That kind of change sounds like progress. We happily mind our own business. No one makes us afraid. And no one profits from making us afraid.

I suspect that the only way to vote for that kind of change is to trust the Changeless One. And we get to vote on that every day.

 You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2021 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

January 6, 2021: “A Date Which Will Live in Infamy”

I’m writing this column on Thursday, January 7, 2021.

That matters. I don’t know if henceforth all one will have to do is say “1/6” to bring forth images of a terrible assault on our nation; probably not, but I hope we never forget the assault and its lessons.

“December 7, 1941: a date which will live in infamy,” does that for many of us. For many more of us, “9/11” does the same thing.

I wasn’t alive in 1941, but I can imagine how Dec. 7 and 8 must have felt. I’ve seen videos of the USS Arizona in flames, and I’ve stood reverently at the spot.

I remember watching the images of the 9/11 assault on the Twin Towers, a despicable attack on America. I remember going to bed in shock and with deep sadness that evening in 2001 and waking up the next morning, still reeling but knowing instinctively that our world would never be exactly the same.

Yesterday and this morning, January 6-7, 2021, felt to me uncomfortably similar to September 11-12, 2001. Sadly indeed, and with no intent to diminish 9/11, I say that to me yesterday’s assault almost feels worse. Why? Because we did it to ourselves. Tears from self-induced pain are a very different sort.

Finding perspective takes time, and we are still very close to this self-defeat and its appalling images. But it seems to me that a mob is a mob is a mob, be they a percentage of far left protesters turned rioters (last summer) or a percentage of far right protesters turned rioters (yesterday). People who incite them, pour out gasoline and then play with matches, watch the fire, and act surprised at the burning are far from any moral high ground. 

The images of hoodlums scaling the walls and breaking into the halls of Congress are heartbreaking. One of the most revolting images of all (and that’s saying something) is the picture of a United States senator raising his clenched fist toward protestors in solidarity and affirmation. Granted, he did that before the scum had scaled the walls; the image is still revolting. Clenched fists are exactly what we cannot afford, whatever our political perspective.

“Make no mistake: this is not a matter of politics but of biblical morality!” So I once heard a preacher proclaiming from a pulpit just before he went on to preach a “far left” politically-charged sermon. Ironically, a preacher across the street, preaching a “far right” sermon could have used exactly the same introduction, word for word. And each one, sincerely believing every word he said, diminished the gospel of Christ to politics.

What we’re seeing is a matter for tears; it’s a time for silence, repentance, and reflection, and not a time for self-righteousness or “virtue-signaling.”

The Apostle Paul warned warring Christians, “If you keep on biting and devouring each other, watch out or you may be destroyed by each other” (Galatians 5:15). When hate-filled beasts who were once human die with their fangs locked in each other’s bodies, neither wins and both become corpses, decaying and abhorrent.

I wonder if Christians will step up? The One we claim as Lord has told us that loving those who look just like us is not impressive: “Even the pagans do that.” But unclenching our fists and, in the name of Christ, hugging someone whose politics or lifestyle we find disgusting and never plan to condone, is, well, Christlike and impressive indeed.

Of course, zealots (from whatever perspective) with clenched fists will try to portray such as a spineless betrayal and lack of conviction. They will never understand; they’ll just run for more gas cans and matches. They always have; they always will.

But the Savior who refused to play power games by the world’s rules and died with forgiveness on his lips? He will understand.

Oh, yes, Christ will understand.

 You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2021 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

An Old Hymn Brings New Comfort

Years ago, when my oldest brother and his wife left for almost 20 years of mission work in Malawi, Africa, I was barely a pup. I was too small then to remember now much of the early time of their service there, but I well remember that then and always, whenever our family gathered, we sang. (I know. Tell that to most modern families and you might as well tell them you grew up on Mars.)

I learned many good, and even great, songs at church as I was growing up. Many were beautiful and rich with meaning. Some were pretty but of questionable musical/theological quality. Some were toe-tappers with great alto and bass “leads.” Those were fun to sing but even then (once I matured a bit) I thought they were better suited to a Sunday afternoon “singing” than worship. (A “singing” is another Martian thing we did on some Sunday afternoons instead of practicing playing with various shapes of balls.)

But I actually learned the most beautiful hymns of the Christian faith not at church but at home singing with my family. I remember thinking of that as, years ago, I was watching on TV the funeral service at the National Cathedral for President Gerald Ford. What a beautiful service! What magnificent hymns! I listened to one of the Ford family’s favorite hymns, “O God, Our Help in Ages Past” and the beautiful “God of Our Fathers” and realized that those were among my own family’s favorite hymns, sung often at home. (Oh, and what a statesman that man was! He had character and integrity to spare and a kind of selfless love for our country that should make the majority of our loudest modern politicians, both sides of the aisle, blush with shame, were their small and shriveled souls capable of such lofty emotion. There’s not much room in a tiny universe bounded north, south, east, and west by self, certainly no room for shame.)

I also learned early that our family had so many favorite hymns that if we were singing and you wanted some hope of getting your favorite song in the line-up, you’d best not be timid about calling out the song number really quickly.

One of our family’s best-loved hymns was “Father and Friend, Thy Light, Thy Love” [lyrics, John Bowring (1792-1872); music, Henry Baker (1835-1910)]. Once my brother and sister-in-law had gone to Africa, it became especially dear. Short but full of meaning, it particularly captured our hope and our prayer as we were separated from loved ones by an ocean and half a world:

(Vs. 1) Father and Friend, Thy light, Thy love, / Beaming thro’ all Thy works we see; / Thy glory gilds the heav’ns above, / And all the earth is full of Thee.

(Vs. 2) Thy voice we hear, Thy presence feel, / While Thou too pure for mortal sight, / Enwrapped in clouds, invisible, / Reignest the Lord of life and light.

(Vs. 3) Thy children shall not faint nor fear, / Sustained by this delightful thought; / Since Thou, their God, art ev’rywhere, / They cannot be where Thou art not.

I love it still and think of it often. It came reassuringly to mind as, years ago, sons of my own were “across the pond” doing mission work. I realize also, and this is itself genuine comfort, that some distances between people can be more difficult to bridge than oceans and miles. When our loved ones are apart from us for any reason and the gap seems large and frightening, this song’s truth is strong and real and a great blessing.

Wherever God’s children are—around the world, hard to reach across the table, or even having passed beyond this world—we can praise our Father: “They cannot be where Thou art not.”

    You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2021 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.