Meet Me in Jericho...

In the wake of the catastrophic havoc wreaked by Hurricane Katrina, David Fleer, a wonderful colleague and friend, as well as one of the most imaginative and insightful preachers I know, suggested that the Churches of Christ in southeast Michigan found themselves traveling down the Jericho Road. There, beaten and dehumanized by the oppressive, thieving winds of natural disaster lay a Samaritan, desperate for help. Much like the gambler in Pascal’s wager, we were forced to decide how we would respond. We did not choose to be here, but now, staring in the face of great need, we were forced either to turn and walk away or to embrace the victims with the compassion of Christ.

Although it may seem as though there was nothing that could inhibit a swift and united response, the problems that we were facing us were replete. Churches of Christ in the metro Detroit area have been divided by race and faith for decades. Individual and institutional racism, as well as differences of doctrine and praxis, have been stacked upon one another, building a dividing wall that seemed too high to scale, too wide and strong to tear down. There were a few holes that remained in the wall, mere pockets in the mortar that provided just enough space for sound waves to creep through to the other side. But the great repairers of the wall, racism and the defenders of the faith, had nearly filled all of tiny gaps, thus ending the conversation and solidifying our separation into two fully distinct and separate groups. History was at stake. Doctrinal purity was at stake. Religion was at stake. But most importantly, the gospel was at stake.

The gospel has a strange way of surprising us. It has a life of its own, unwilling to submit to the shackles of our presuppositions, preconceptions, and preferences. The gospel creeps into the microscopic fissures of our most carefully constructed dividing walls and, like freezing water on Michigan’s roads, explodes, demolishing the things that divide the children of God. Somehow it continues to surprise us, simply by doing what gospel has always done, giving birth to a new creation in Christ, in which there is neither black nor white, neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, neither male and female.

We found ourselves on the Jericho Road, black and white together, staring into the distorted and malformed face of the victims of a powerful band of thieves, who stole life, homes, belongings, futures, and hope. With no choice but to respond or deny the gospel its power, we embraced, joined hands, linked arms and determined together to bandage the wounds of the broken and hurting. Nearly one thousand members from Churches of Christ in southeast Michigan gathered together to pray, give, and form united effort to help Katrina’s victims. But we could not simply leave this wounded victim to the care of the innkeeper….

Last Wednesday morning, we wandered back into Jericho. I sat around a table with 16 men and women, both black and white, as we talked together about how to stand as one body and help meet the needs of the displaced families who will soon become our new neighbors in the Detroit area. I must be honest, as my car pulled into the parking lot, as I stepped out into the mid-morning air, as I found my seat at the table, I was scared. Call it lack of faith or a healthy suspicion in the face of such a tall and wide dividing wall, I questioned what would really happen at the meeting table. Would we be able to find a common ground, a lost unity in our common desire to serve the needy together? Would find a lost key to a bolted door that locked the passage way to fellowship? Would the gospel really be able to do what the gospel promises it can and will accomplish?

Nearly a week later, as I look back on the conversation around that table, I still struggle to find the words to describe what happened. I guess that happens when your theology is being formed in the midst of real life. What I can say is that the gospel was at work, God was moving as only God can. We are on the verge of exciting and terrifying times here in Detroit. The time is ripe for people that have been sinfully divided for so many years to come together to find their koinonia, their “common life,” in the unifying power of the emerging kingdom of God. Of course, that also means that this could be the final nail in the coffin, closing the door to any hope of reconciliation in the future. The Spirit of God seems to be moving ahead of us in ways that we can neither explain nor understand fully. Our prayer now is that we may join God in God’s work, that the kingdom will break in through us, that the unifying power of the gospel will be perfected in our churches, that all people, every color dark or light, will be able to stand together and proclaim that the dividing wall has been broken, that the gospel is at work among us.