The Advent of Revolution | The Revolution of Kindness Starts with You (and Me)

I believe that we are facing a crisis of hope both locally and globally. Eugene has the highest per-capita homelessness rate in the nation. Oregon schools are facing an unprecedented spike in behavior problems. American life expectancy has been declining since 2014. And the kids’ music video “Baby Shark” has been viewed on YouTube more than 4 billion times. (If you haven’t seen it...you’re really not missing anything).

Hope can be hard to come by. I feel overwhelmed when I think about some of the huge problems our world is facing. I’m distressed about the human rights crisis at our southern border, and the horrible living conditions in developing countries that are at the root of it. I am distressed by climate change, and the knowledge that it will only create more refugees.

I am also upset that the church isn’t doing more to address these issues. I am not pointing the finger at CitySalt or any individual church in particular. I am instead pointing the finger at the larger church body of American Christians — and even at myself.

In this Advent season, my heart turns to the story of the Holy Family, young parents who were forced to flee their homeland to escape political persecution. A young family of refugees. I am not attempting to make a political statement, but just this: that all people deserve kindness. Remember that Jesus himself was a refugee, and that He always stood with those who were most marginalized and outcast by society. I hope that when we think of refugees, street people, those experiencing disability, and other marginalized groups, we can remember that those are exactly the people that Jesus liked to spend time with.

Last year, during a church gathering at my house, I could hear my daughter loudly singing from the backyard, “The Revolution starts now in my own backyard, in my own hometown.” It was a song taught to her by her first-grade teacher, a gentle man who plays guitar and sings folk songs to the kids. He told the students that we needed a revolution of love and peace.

There’s a movement afoot in Eugene to become a City of Kindness. Coordinator Doug Carnine was quoted in The Register-Guard saying, “We want to uplift people through kindness.”

In the face of the massive-scale problems our world is facing, is kindness enough? How much difference can it make? Isn’t it just a drop in the bucket?

The mayor of Anaheim, California is a leader of the cities of kindness initiative. More than one million acts of kindness were reported over eight years in Anaheim, and the city has seen a reduction in homelessness, gang membership, bullying and violence in schools, and crime.

I believe that practicing kindness has the potential to make a bigger impact than we might think. Kindness is the practical expression of Jesus’ mandate to “love your neighbor as yourself,” as well as a powerful antidote to the hope crisis we are facing. One act of kindness may be a drop in the bucket, but many acts of kindness by many individuals can add up to something big. A bucket of kindness that overflows. We can embody the spirit of Christ by bringing His light into dark places. We can bring real change, resilience, and hope.

What are some practical ways to show kindness?

1. Pray for the person you have in mind. If you have a hard time feeling love for that person, pray that God would help you see them through God’s eyes.

2. Donate gently used items to St. Vincent’s or another favorite charity.

3. Donate money to your favorite nonprofit, such as Food for Lane County.

4. Help make burritos with CitySalt for homeless youth on December 10 at The Box.

5. Invite your neighbor over for dinner.

6. Write a note of appreciation.

7. Forgive someone.

What are your ideas for acts of kindness? Share in the comments section below.

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About the Author

Ursula and her husband Spencer have two young children, and their family enjoys playing hide-and-seek and dancing in the living room. She works as a communications and events coordinator with the University of Oregon.

You can read more from Ursula at motherbearblog.com.

Seeing the Other | Love Your Enemies

I don’t like people, until I meet them.

I’m not proud of this. I want to be a person who loves as Jesus loved, unconditionally and across all kinds of borders.

A decade in animal protection—watching videos of humans doing things to animals that will haunt my twilight thoughts until the day I die—taught me to be skeptical of the possibility of goodness in a person, to believe that everyone was capable of horrific violence and sadistic cruelty.

Well, that’s what I tell myself. But I think I’ve always been a little too sure of my own right-ness.

Social media and internet silos that are designed to show me more of what I like and agree with haven’t helped matters. I eat a bland digital diet of confirmation bias, gobbling up the videos and articles and memes that reinforce my existing opinions. I engage with online friends who echo my own existing views and, too often, quickly dismiss dissenting voices.

Through what I consume, I train myself to pass judgement on vast swaths of the human population. Proponents of the political party that I don’t usually vote for? Dumb. Members of a religious order not my own? Probably brainwashed. People who view [fill in the blank hotbutton socio-political issue] differently than I do? They’ll see the light eventually. I really don’t like people…but then I meet them.

The generous, happy-go-lucky neighbor who holds views far from my own. He helped my husband identify a fulfilling business opportunity. The encouraging, patient gym coach who wears a different kind of #_____LivesMatter t-shirt than I do. She takes time after class to show me how I can improve my range of motion and strength. The old high school friend who predictably comments on every article about guns I post. He makes some valid points sometimes.

Shortly after football player Michael Vick was arrested for dog-fighting, I sat in a room with him for eight hours as he took a course on empathy for animals that I developed. We even did a Bible study together, since he identified as a Christian. I knew the terrible things he had been involved in, but was able to connect on a human level and felt no particular ill-will toward him.

Jesus understood the power of human connection. In the Sermon on the Mount, he is recorded as telling his listeners to go so far as to leave the altar if, in the middle of giving their gift, they realized they had an outstanding rift. Reconciliation and right relationship among the community was a higher priority that regulations or religious rituals.

“Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.” It’s an astonishing and impossible ask. And the instructions that precede it press into the need for relationship especially with people we are prone to hate. If someone strikes you, give them your other cheek. If someone sues you for your coat, give them your cloak, too. If someone forces you to carry their pack one mile, carry it for two. And give to everyone who begs from you. (Matthew 5:38-42). How many times have I breezily lied to men and women begging outside of Union Station, or Fred Meyer: “Sorry, I don’t carry cash!”

In his book, Engaging the Powers, Walter Wink suggests that in telling his followers to turn the other cheek, give our cloak, and walk the second mile, Jesus is discipling us in the way of nonviolent engagement. Turning the other cheek “robs the oppressor of the power to humiliate” and offers a chance at redemption. Giving our cloak shames a system that would allow a wealthy person to literally take the shirt off the back of the poor. And walking a second mile carrying the pack of a Roman soldier, brutal occupiers of Palestine, helps “oppressed people find a way to protest and neutralize an onerous practice.” Each of these methods of nonviolent resistance not only restores dignity to the one who is shamed or oppressed, but also offers an opportunity for the oppressor to regain their own humanity.

Ethicists Glen Stassen and David Gushee look at these same texts of Matthew in their book Kingdom Ethics and posit that Jesus’ commands here to turn the other cheek, give a creditor your cloak, and carry the pack a second mile are “transforming initiatives” that help Jesus followers break out of old paradigms. Rather than violent retaliation, or passivity, we’re to take nonviolent action to resist evil.  

So, where does that leave me, with my propensity for judgement and dismissal, for distance from the people and situations that make me angry or uncomfortable simply out of my own sense of self-righteousness? How do I resist the temptation to surround myself with the people and ideas that reinforce my ideas of justice? How do I even begin to break down these border walls between me and the people that I am so eager to “other”?

I am fortunate to work with people who are smarter and more compassionate than I am. One of them helped start The People’s Supper, a way of connecting across difference over a shared meal. Another helps lead tours to important Civil Rights historical sites, to help equip the church to live into our biblical call to be ambassadors of reconciliation. I learn a lot from them, mostly by listening. I need to do a lot of listening.

And I’m spending less time online and more time with flesh-and-blood people. Because I love everyone, once I meet them.

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About the Author

Sarah Withrow King is the author of Vegangelical: How Caring for Animals Can Shape Your Faith (Zondervan, 2016) and Animals Are Not Ours (No, Really, They’re Not): An Evangelical Animal Liberation Theology (Cascade Books, 2016). She spends her days working for Evangelicals for Social Action and CreatureKind, helping Christians put their faith into action. She lives in Eugene with her husband, son, and animal companions and enjoys action movies, black coffee, the daily crossword, and dreaming of her next international journey.