It was probably in the cards from early on that I would wind up a twentysomething social justice lovin' progressive with a full blown case of the righteous anger blues. One of the most common phrases out of little Kevin's mouth was "But that's not fair!" It always bothered me to no end when something didn't seem fair...and a whole lot just never seemed fair.
Of course, little Kevin grew into slightly bigger Kevin and entered the awkward middle school age range, and two episodes come to mind as proleptic foretastes of the proverbial feast to come. In 5th grade, we had to keep assignment books and get them signed every day. One day, when we had an early dismissal and no homework, several of us in the class assumed that meant there was no need to get the assignment book signed...and so, the next day, we wound up having to sit out recess for our crime against good classroom order. I wasn't having any of that, so I wound up organizing a (rather strongly worded) petition drive to stick it to the proverbial man over the lack of any sort of flexibility with the assignment book rule, as well as the lack of our having any say in the classroom's ways of operating. Our school counselor's solution was to organize a show trial in which our classmates got to decide our punishment. I still get pissed off when I think about the whole affair.
Meanwhile, in 6th grade, my teacher hung a sign up on her wall that said: "Rule 1 - The teacher is always right. Rule 2 - If the teacher is wrong, see Rule 1." I wasn't a big fan of that, either; I only challenged it once (when she was blatantly, factually wrong about something), and then referred back to the rule, I shut up and sulked the rest of the day. Junior high and high school occasionally organized a few attempts at bucking the system, and I always patted myself on the back for my infrequent attempts at being subversive.
And then, I became an adult...and I discovered that the Christ I follow is a subversive, subversive kind of guy. Jesus never left the status quo alone - the Gospels tell a story of the living God dwelling among us, and shaking the cages of everyone who thinks that the social order of the day is the best of all possible worlds. We're not given permission to blithely pledge our allegiance to an American dream of white picket fences and comfortably numb middle class pleasure - the cross we are called to take up in our following after Christ is the burden of having lost the right to demand comfort and ease...and the loss of our right to keep our mouths shut in the face of injustice. After all, how do you die to yourself more than in yielding the the privilege (which we pretend is a right) of being comfortable and "happy" in that fake, plastic sense of the word that we've embraced as a society?
And so, as I start the second quarter century of my life, my prayer is this: God, you call me to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with you. Help me never to turn a blind eye to injustice, help me share the abundant grace and love you've shown me with all people everywhere, and help me have a heart and mind that know that my identity rests in you and you and alone. Amen.
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