I grew up with a sister who was 3 years 4 months and 11 days older than me. When I was a boy there were two things I wanted more than anything else. One was to be an elephant. And the other was to be older than my sister. Maybe the two desires were really the same desire. It seemed in everything that mattered, like getting extra dessert and staying up late at weekends and becoming streetwise at primary school, I was always second. And there’s only so much coming second a man can take – especially a 7-year-old man.

What is it about siblings? We can’t live with them; we can’t live without them. If someone attacks them we’re first to step in, if they’re sick we can’t sleep for worry; but leave us alone in a room with them and in no time we find ourselves turning from wallflowers into fireworks. I once had Christmas dinner with a friend who had his 93-year-old and 91-year-old great aunts and his 89-year-old great uncle join us for the festive occasion. The great uncle said “Pass the roast potatoes, would you” – and proceeded to help himself to a generous portion. “Stop it – put those back” snapped his older sister, “Don’t be so greedy.” The younger sister pleaded, “But surely, it’s Christmas Day!” The older aunt was not to be deterred. Looking imperiously at her 89-year-old
brother, she said ‘He has to learn!”

This is the soil out of which the story of Cain and Abel becomes the story of everybody. A great many politicians and religious leaders talk about safeguarding or promoting or focusing on the family – but you wonder if these people have ever lived in one. The book of Genesis isn’t the slightest bit sentimental when it comes to the realities of growing up with a brother. Here are Cain and Abel; the first recorded sign of trouble and straightaway Abel’s blood is crying out from the ground.

Then a few chapters later we have Abraham and Lot, who were cousins but in one place are called brothers. We have this resonant sentence, “their possessions were so great that they could not live together.” Ouch. Feel the quality of that for a moment. “Their possessions were so great that they
could not live together.” My sister and I became the best of friends only when she went away to university. I didn’t realize we were living out the Abraham and Lot story.

And then there’s Isaac and Ishmael. Anyone here got a half brother? You going to tell me that’s a picnic? You’re the older one and you’re constantly told you should be nice to your little brother even though every time you look at him you think, “It was your mother that ruined my parents’ marriage.
How can I not hate you? Why should I love someone who’s taken away my dad’s attention that used to be all mine?” Or you’re the younger one and you think “I didn’t choose this domestic arrangement so why do I get blamed for it? What do I have to do to be taken seriously in this house and not treated as a toy?”

And we haven’t even spoken yet about Jacob and Esau, and what happens when one parent starts using a child in her maneuverings against the other. Boy does that make it yet more complicated, when you’re piggy in the middle between your parents! And finally there’s Joseph and his brothers, and it’s as if in that story that every element in all the previous stories comes together in a volcano of fratricide and parental favoritism and an over-inflated ego – and yet profound love. Kerboom. If there’s anyone here this morning who doesn’t recognize themselves in one of these stories I’d be mighty surprised. If your life is a chaos of thinly-veiled warfare, and a desperate struggle for recognition, and love you long for but daren’t ask for, and long-festering resentment, and freshly minted fury – welcome to Genesis. You’ll be quite at home.

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Many times over the years, my urban mentors have reminded me that the poor don’t need me. Rather, I need the poor.

I was reminded of this truth rather powerfully last week when none of the gringos (except for me) were able to come to the Spanish speaking bible study that meets at our house, so our group consisted of only myself and four of my undocumented Mexican friends. One of the families (Felipe and Monica) lives five blocks north of us and has been splitting time between Juarez (their home) and Denver. They were in Juarez in April when gunfire between warring drug lords broke out in front of their trailer. Everyone hit the deck and waited for the shooting to stop. When silence finally returned, they walked outside of their home to see five corpses, one of which was that of their 9 year old son. Another woman at the study was Ana, an undocumented mother of three who lives in an apartment a few blocks from us. The fourth person was an undocumented Mexican woman who now lives in Houston but was visiting for a couple weeks.

I started our time by asking how everyone was doing. Felipe and Monica said that it had been an exceptionally hard week, as the waves of grief around the loss of their son had been especially intense. They began to sob. Ana broke into a mini-sermon to remind them that God loves them and that he disciplines those he cares about. She sited both the life of Job and her own. I’ve known Ana for four years, but learned for the first time that her first child had died at 6 months of age. Ana talked about the extreme grief that she has known that comes with the loss of a child, but that for some reason God wants to take some of us home early, which she stated is what he had done with the son of Felipe and Monica. Felipe and Monica continued to weep; Ana continued to preach and comfort. We eventually laid hands on them and prayed. Afterwards, we opened our bibles to James 5:10-11 and moved forward with what we had previously planned to study:

Brothers and sisters, as an example of patience in the face of suffering, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. As you know, we count as blessed those who have persevered. You have heard of Job’s perseverance and have seen what the Lord finally brought about. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy.

 Felipe and Monica are homeless and – for the moment – living with Monica’s family. They are looking for a low-rent place to stay. As they were leaving they saw a For Rent sign in front of the apartment across the street. I explained that the reason it is for rent is that it was vacated the previous Saturday after an intruder broke into the neighboring house, tied up the man, and attempted to rape the woman. When she resisted, the intruder pistol whipped her and then shot (and missed) as she ran in terror from the house. We don’t have to worry, I explained, because the police ended up shooting and killing the intruder after a high-speed chase through our neighborhood. Ana replied that we don’t have to worry because God loves us and protects us. Felipe said at least this is a safer place than Juarez, which has the highest per capita murder rate in the world, higher even than Mogadishu, Somalia.

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I was invited to be the guest preacher one Sunday this summer at a church in a suburb of my city, Denver, Colorado. My text was Mark 2:13-17, which tells a story of Jesus offending religious leaders by dining with “sinners” in the home of Levi, a government tax agent.

I felt that I could not preach this passage with integrity without mentioning some of my own relationships that others might find offensive. Had I been to Levi’s house, myself? I was tempted to use “pseudo scandalous” examples, like maybe homeless kids or gang members who have been my friends over the years. But I knew that, rather than scandalizing my audience, these kinds of examples would actually elevate me as a ministry role model.

So I confessed instead that in our work with homeless families, Mile High Ministries has unmarried couples living in our facility. I knew this wouldn’t be particularly good news for many in this particular evangelical congregation, but I was just warming up. We also serve undocumented immigrants, knowing full well that they are in the country illegally. Not only that, but I’ve been politically active in supporting changes in America’s immigration laws, including speaking at a rally denouncing a new anti-immigrant law in Arizona. The room was now very quiet, so I encouraged everyone to exhale.

After my final story, about how much I enjoyed a birthday party for a loved-one at a lesbian bar, I was confident that people would have some words for me after church was over. Sure enough, some thanked me, because they too have a relationship with an undocumented person or a loved one who is gay. Others were chagrined that I could be so wrong on the critical issues of our day, or even that I had such poor judgment as to speak of such things in an audience where children were present.

One man promised to try to get our transitional housing facility shut down, and another told me that I was preaching from the wrong version of the Bible. A careful reading of the “authorized” text, he said, would clarify that Jesus had gone to Levi’s home precisely in order to preach repentance. I wonder why Pharisees would find that so offensive?

In accepting an invitation to dine with sinners at Levi’s home, Jesus risked taking-on the shame of those with whom he chose to share table fellowship. Indeed, he chose to be one of them, in the eyes of his community. As Greg Boyle says in his wonderful book, Tattoos on the Heart, Jesus was not a man for others, he was one of them.

For my part, I am a novice on this journey of being so closely identified with outcasts that I risk taking on their shame. But I have a feeling that if I continue to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, they’re going to lead me, more and more, toward the house of Levi.

Jeff Johnsen
directs Mile High Ministries
listens to Miles and John Lee
looks (and sings) more like Willie Nelson

Over the last few months, we’ve been mobilizing evangelicals in Denver, Colorado, to raise a public voice on behalf of reforming the immigration system in the United States. Ours is a nation of immigrants and their descendants. But the system of laws that govern immigration into our country is complicated and unhelpful for immigrants, for businesses who would like to hire them, and for the cohesiveness of our communities. As a result nearly 12 million undocumented immigrants live in the shadows of American society. Many of these are my neighbors, and a handful are my friends.

There are followers of Jesus who have been advocating on behalf of immigrants for years – Roman Catholics, Quakers, and many others. But evangelicals, the Word-centered folks with whom I have fellowshipped for 30 years, have been mostly silent.
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As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve been reading Misoslav Volf’s book, Exclusion and Embrace in search of theological resources to help make sense of a series of contemporary crises in which followers of Jesus have become deeply divided along tribal (Kenya) or national lines (U.S., specifically the passion generated by the conversation about “illegal immigrants”). As a Croatian, Volf sets his book against the backdrop of another contemporary crisis of social identity – the ethnic hostilities between various groups within the former Yugoslavia. But he uses the stories of scripture, especially the cross of Christ, to shape his reflections.

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“What is the solution?”

That was the question posed by Geography of Grace commenter Mom Rose, in an offline email. Her honest questions and thoughtful interaction really touched me – I hope I am as focused on learning as she is! I am young and foolish and too often think I know something, but I think there might be a lesson in her life for me…

In terms of solutions, I really recommend the study done by the Cato Institute (here) as a starting point – they outline a very convincing argument.

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Why are we so compulsively obsessed with immigration?

It wasn’t long ago when we didn’t see immigration headlines daily in our newspapers, isolated violent incidents connected to immigrants in Italy and Arizona didn’t result in weeks of debate about the larger issue of immigrant criminality, and Lou Dobbs had something else to talk about. Why now? What has changed? What are we so mad about?

A law recently passed by the state of Oklahoma enforces federal immigration laws in a more draconian fashion than any other state to date. In short: it prohibits driver’s licensing, access to government benefits, deputizes local police to do immigration work, and most importantly, as a youth pastor working with many undocumented youth, it prohibits the sheltering and transporting of the undocumented. Sheltering and transporting are vague, ambiguous terms making any association with immigrants legally precarious.

Oklahoma church leaders from across the denominational spectrum have spoken out saying they will disobey this new legislation and continue on with their ministry as per usual.

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You’ve heard the statement: “I’m not opposed to immigration; I’m opposed to illegal immigration.”

That claim has never seemed honest to me, but I’ve struggled with explaining why. In the December 6, 2007 edition of Time Magazine, however, Michael Kinsley argues convincingly that the core issue here is opposition to immigration in general, not simply illegal immigration:

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No matter where you go, the debate continues. What do we do about immigration reform? There are an estimated ten to twelve million illegal immigrants in the United States and rising. People of faith in the North American church find themselves on varying ends of this political hurricane. Depending on perspectives, people pray for God to respond in different ways.

Although the immigration issue encompasses more than immigrants from Mexico, it is this population I mainly see in the spotlight. Among other things, I’ve noticed this debate conveyed as a threat to the American way of life, specifically with regard to language and culture. There are countless political terms one could toss around, such as human rights, economics, welfare, and national security. I could join in, and try to sound like a very well informed expert on the matter. I am no expert, and this is no call to action.

Instead, for this very personal post, I simply want to share with you a letter written by my ten year-old daughter Angel about her family.

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We need the poor.

This is a simple truth, but often forgotten or never discovered.

But it is a truth to which I am increasingly drawn.

We need to study the Scriptures with the poor because our life experiences inform our theology, and because we’ll never quite understand what a special place God has in his heart for the poor unless we hang with them. And we’re the ones who will be blessed.

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