Theological Thought for Thursday

Bishop Will Willimon keeps a blog and a podcast. For a major leader in a denomination that is trying to win the hearts and minds of a new generation this is wildly important.

One of his podcasts was entitled, "The best little whore house in Jericho." He told the story of Rahab (Joshua Chapters 2&6). Rahab was a prostitute. This would be enough information to eject her from any pew in America, but the story continues. Rahab lied to help the enemies of her country gain access to the walled city. This would never recieve a Bush pardon. But God spared Rahab's life and the lives of her whole family and God blessed them.

Bishop Willimon used this text for a sermon on All Saints' day. This prostitute does little to conjure up the images we hold most dear of "saint." We sometimes jokingly refer to my mother as "Saint Debbie the Meek," because she fits the bill of sainthood. Dorothy Day once said, " Don't call me a saint. I don't want to be dismissed so easily."

I am not a saint. No one has confused me for a saint in at least three years. I cuss; I enjoy good food, good friends, and a good time more than I should; and I laugh a little too loud for polite conversation. I hold no trappings of sainthood and yet I love God with all of my heart. I pray, and read my Bible, and hold others accountable. I love God and love people fiercely and publicly confess and claim my sins. I make friends with nobodies and encourage those who could change the world to change their lives.

I once thought that being a good Christian meant smiling a lot. When I went to Russia, I realized that in Moscow smiling a lot meant you were an idiot. My whole concept of the Christian faith had to change to survive. Five Iron Frenzy sang, "I don't listen well, don't smile enough." There is more to Christianity.

I don't want others to see Christ in me because of my T-shirt, my bumpersticker, or my absence of social faux-pas. I don't want nice church ladies to say I'm a good Christian because I have all the right friends and proper clothes. I want my alcoholic friend to tell me that I'm different. That Christ would shine through my actions, my words, my mistakes, and my life. That no one would ever confuse me with a good little church boy, but that others may see Christ's love in my life.