Southwest Conference Blog

Getting Started with Our Whole Lives

by Karen Richter

Does your congregation have an Our Whole Lives program for children or adults? Have you thought about it but aren’t sure where to start?

Our Whole Lives (often abbreviated OWL) is a holistic, factual, and values-based set of human sexuality curricula designed and supported jointly by the Unitarian Universalist Association and the United Church of Christ. And OMG…it’s so awesome. Positive and affirming sexuality education is like the Gospel – it’s Good News!

As an Our Whole Lives facilitator and trainer, I see the bedrock of OWL like this: Sexuality is a gift from a loving Creator. Shadow Rock folks have heard me use this language: “When we say that God loves everybody, that means God loves Every Body!” Even when the program is presented as a secular educational opportunity, this life-giving mindset comes through.

Our Whole Lives “angel tree” helps Shadow Rockers feel connected to our OWL program and fills our cabinets with necessary supplies.

Want to think about this a bit more? Here are some places to start:

Karen’s Our Whole Lives YouTube playlist
These are not official Our Whole Lives videos, but they can help you start thinking in an OWL-ish kind of way.
Facilitator Training
You can see upcoming training on the UCC’s OWL pages.
Shadow Rock will host secondary level training (grades 7-9 and 10-12) in November. The training weekend is a great experience – intense and formative – even if you don’t have plans to lead the curriculum immediately.
Do some reading! For children, I recommend Robie Harris’s series and Corey Silverberg’s fantastically inclusive What Makes a Baby. For adults, check out Christopher Ryan’s Sex at Dawn: How We Mate, Why We Stray, and What It Means for Modern Relationships. My favorite read of 2018 so far is Sonya Renee Taylor’s The Body is Not an Apology.
Reflect a bit on your own sexuality education. What was good about it? What was missing? What are your hopes and dreams for your own children or for the children in your neighborhood and community?
Let’s talk! There are very few things that I am more enthusiastic about than Our Whole Lives. If you’re in central AZ, let’s have coffee. If you’re not, shoot me an email and let’s find a time to chat.

Our Whole Lives is a gift TO the United Church of Christ and a gift FROM the United Church of Christ. Let’s make the most of it!

Karen Richter serves on the Board of the Southwest Conference United Church of Christ and is an All-Levels Approved Our Whole Lives Trainer and Facilitator. You can get in touch with Karen via email karen@shadowrockucc.org.

Baby Wisdom

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

Our survival in this life is contingent on how we understand our basic needs. Living is the practice of meeting these needs. Our ability to meet those needs changes as we change. We complicate this extraordinarily well throughout our lives.

We have needs.
We come into this world, screaming and demanding .
Those cries from the newborn beckon us to help them survive.
Their cries beg for food, warmth and safety. And so it starts.

We seem to lose the understanding of our own needs as we grow older. We get conditioned in all sorts of ways as we live. The further we get away from the day we were born, the less we seem able to tolerate our own neediness. We judge it.

It hurts my heart when I witness someone embarrassed to admit that they have a need. We cast shame on people for needing and for expressing that need. Some even taunt others about it. “You don’t have to be such a big baby about it.”

In an effort to be “less of a baby” about it, we begin to push away the awareness that our own needs exist and forget that it’s crucial to have these needs met. We deny our needs and that usually comes out sideways in our living.

We work against our own survival at times because we don’t want to be vulnerable and we don’t want to be rejected. We do not want to have needs that we cannot meet on our own. We want self sufficiency and for others to view us as strong.

So we…
…starve ourselves.
…gamble away our security and safety.
… make choices that leave us out in the cold.

And we sprinkle all of that with a nice dose of shame and loneliness.

In our living, we often focus on the weight of need and it can be burdensome. If that’s where we are focused, we miss the true life-affirming part of need.

When we were babies, completely reliant on others, we learned something each time we had a need met: It’s not our needs alone that make us human, it’s the never being alone in our need that truly helps us live.

In our most vulnerable moments, we may desperately want to deny our needs even exist. We may want to hide the evidence of our humanity. I hope we do that less and less as we grow.

And I sincerely hope we will be big babies about it.

Blessed are . . .

by Abigail Conley

Each year, we bless backpacks for kids headed back to school. We’ll pray over teachers’ bags and college students’ bags, and the bag of pretty much anyone who wants, but it starts with the kids. I make luggage tags for their backpacks, reminding them they are loved. Like the lectionary, I rotate on a three-year cycle, figuring it can work for more than one thing.

Overall, I think the Episcopalians and the Catholics do a better job of blessing than Congregationalists of most varieties. I could be wrong, but blessing just doesn’t hold the same prestige in our understanding of church. I am far more inclined to say that the ordinary is holy than to reserve a thing as purely holy; that inclination is a product of the churches that formed me.

Not surprisingly, the most ready notion of blessing for me is the Beatitudes. Along with the Lord’s Prayer, they were one of the texts memorized in fifth grade Sunday school if one wanted to graduate into youth group.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. (Matthew 5:3-12)

I most appreciate interpreting the Beatitudes as pronouncement. By speaking it, Jesus makes it true that these things are blessed.

For we who join in God’s work, this is why we bless backpacks. By speaking a word of blessing upon them, we make the work they represent holy. One of the gifts of the church is that we can discern this together.

While education is transformative, it is not easy. For children, it is not always good. My grandfather bribed me to go to kindergarten and not cry. I was barely old enough for kindergarten and the teacher’s whistle scared me. It took months to coax out that truth of why kindergarten was so hard. In the meantime, my grandfather paid me fifty cents a day to go to school, not to cry, and trusted me to tell him the truth. He paid me in quarters every weekend. The price was set at fifty cents because it was the cost of a can of soda at recess.

Later grades would bring other challenges. I had the same terrible teacher for second and third grades. My elementary school closed. Middle school is terrible for pretty much everyone. Then I wonder if high school is any better and mostly, I think about how hard it all was. It was hard for me, who got straight As, who had plenty of friends, who never got picked on. I can only imagine what it was like for other kids. School itself, even with saintly teachers, is far from holy. It is blessed because we choose for it to be. It is blessed because the Church has decided to bless it.

I wonder what things we’re missing. What aren’t we calling holy? What things need our blessing? What is waiting for a word of transformation?

Faithful Decision Making – Rising to the Challenge of the Times

by Karen Richter

When Scott and I were first married, we had a friend named Glenn who worked with Scott at Barnett Bank in Florida. Glenn told us one evening about watching a teller at the bank flipping through a large stack of bills… She touched each bill for a fraction of a second and maybe once in the stack she would pull a bill out and put it to the side. These were the bills that she suspected were counterfeit. Actually more than suspecting, she just KNEW – knew from the slight variations of the texture of the paper and ink under the edge of her thumb.

What does that story have to do with discernment? Discernment is not like that. We very seldom ‘just know.’ Over a person’s lifetime, they make millions of decisions of all shapes and sizes. Over a person’s lifetime, maybe for one of those decisions, they “just know.”

The traditional practice of discernment – faithful decision making – as spiritual discipline owes much to the Catholic Ignatian tradition and to Quaker practices. There’s a history there and much ancient wisdom… but that’s not today’s blog.

Discernment is a practice suited well to the times in which we live. So let’s take a minute to talk about how we might understand these times. So many of us have a gut feeling that there’s something special different unique going on in our churches and institutions. Is it just our imagination or are things truly changing more quickly and more profoundly than in times past? Church historian Phyllis Tickle writes about this idea: that every 500 years or so, the church has a “great rummage sale” in which ideas and notions of the role of the church get all shifty (The Great Emergence, Baker Books 2012). The Protestant Reformation was the most recent of these great transitions (Luther’s theses were posted on Halloween in 1517 – early Renaissance social media LOL). The Reformation was a time in which the authority of the church shifted in a profound way – from the Pope and the hierarchy of the church to the scriptures.

1517… hmmm. Well… TICK TOCK Y’ALL. We’re due for another great rummage sale, and it’s happening all around us. Tickle’s thesis is that the transition in which we’re living now is another change in our source of authority: from the Bible to the Spirit.

Assuming that she’s right*, it behooves us to learn the best ways to hear the voice of Spirit. And that’s what discernment is all about. Spiritual direction is a great setting in which to dive into personal and vocational discernment. I think of direction as a container in which discernment can unfold.

In that container (or in whatever setting we are discerning), there’s an atmosphere of trust.

We trust the deep desires of our heart. When we ask discernment questions, we trust that our hearts are already leaning the right way. We trust that God somehow has placed those desires in our hearts.
We trust the goodness of Life at a basic level. In this way, we are able to hold our decision lightly… to remain open and receptive to the Spirit’s movement, letting go of our own agenda even if just for a time.
We trust our imagination and intuition. We allow our emotions and physical sensations to inform our decision making. My spiritual direction mentor and supervisor Rev Teresa Blythe has this go-to question: ‘where do you feel this decision in your body?’ It took me a while sitting with this question to grasp what it means.
Finally, we trust our community. We lean on one another’s wisdom.

Discernment is entwined with the Cs of our faith journey– commandment, commission, and commitment – and interacts with those concepts around the question of HOW. Discernment is all about the HOW.

How do we respond to the commandment of love? What does our call to love look like on the ground, in real life?
How do we live into the task before us – our commission to embrace this life and embody grace and peace? What part of this work is ours to do? What tasks have my name on them?
How do we sustain the commitment that’s required to build the house of Wisdom?

These are the questions of discernment continually lying before us: as a faithful community, as individuals, as a culture, as a species. May we make decisions that are life-giving. Amen.

*☺ I’m not at all qualified to argue with Phyllis Tickle! Her ideas are given the briefest summary/mangle here. The Great Emergence is a fab overview of church history for lay persons.

When We Go Away

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

I have long thought that the strength of family and friend relationships rely solely on exchanges we all have when we are in the same space, hanging out, talking, being together.

I have come to realize, though, this is only part of sustaining connection. The other large, essential part of relationship happens when we are away from each other.

Loving relationship starts in the most tender parts of our being. Our ability to be authentic and present in relationship is quite reliant on the vulnerability we are brave enough to hold inside of ourselves. Vulnerability often calls on fear as a bodyguard. Fear is such a powerful barrier that locks us in and does nothing to help our precious selves find one another.

What we choose to think about, the offenses we sometimes pick up, the conversations we overthink, the way we perceive our own value to those we love, all determines so much of whether a relationship thrives or suffers. The stories we tell ourselves in the in-between times is what determines if love is cultivated or ruptured.

We rely on connection. We long to be with one another. That homesick ache is that very longing and has been with us from day one. It is the motivating part of our living. The plot twist, though, is that deep connection is not fortified with an “I love you” face to face. The deep, sustaining connection happens later when we are apart. It happens when I replay that “I love you” and choose to believe you meant it.

July 24, 2018

by Abigail Conley

I woke up early, sick to my stomach because I ate things I shouldn’t of the night before. I stayed up and wrote a sermon.

I ate a late breakfast, watched some TV, took a shower, and headed to Costco.

On Sunday, I’d received an email asking for goods to be donated to help families being reunified following separation under Trump’s zero tolerance immigration policy. On Sunday afternoon, I sent out an email to the congregation asking for water, pads, stuffed animals, snacks, backpacks and a few other things. We needed them all by Tuesday night. With the limited time frame, several people sent money instead of dropping off goods. I was headed to Costco to spend that money on what was needed.

I put giants boxes of Always brand pads in my cart, along with boxes of trail mix and boxes of granola bars. I went to the back of the store to get water, but settled on Gatorade instead. I don’t get stomach bugs often, so it was not too long ago that I found out that Gatorade can be a magical elixir. It seemed that people recently released from detention might need that magical elixir, even if it was much more expensive.

I checked out and went on my way. As I was walking out of the doors, my phone rang. A colleague in Tucson was calling. Were we doing anything? They money donated for immediate needs. Could we get stuff there? I told her I would gladly turn around and buy more supplies if she told me how much. I hadn’t been able to find my Costco card before leaving home, so I went back for a temporary one a second time. I grabbed a cart a second time. I bought nuts instead of trail mix this time, but still pads, Gatorade, and granola bars. I loaded these items into my car.

I called my partner as I left the parking lot to tell him it was a good thing I’d gotten his car instead of my much smaller one. When I got to the church, I unloaded so that everything could be better reloaded later. I added to the stash of what was already waiting in the classroom.

Then, I called my contact at the social service agency to confirm a drop-off time and see if any needs had changed. The needs had, in fact, changed some. The families had requested Bibles in Spanish, men’s deodorant, a broader assortment of hygiene items, and shoelaces for kids and adults. Detention, after all, is a form of jail. Of course, the officers took everyone’s shoelaces, even the kids’.

I sat at my desk and cried. The horror settled in. My government, my neighbors see these kids and their parents as dangerous enough to lock them up, even taking away their shoelaces. I’d always assumed that when someone was released, whatever items were taken were returned to them. Apparently, this is not true. These kids and their parents need shoelaces.

Sometimes, we count atrocities in both humanizing and terrifying ways. I’ve never been able to shake the sight of the piles of shoes in the Holocaust Museum in D.C. Now, I’m wondering, where are there piles of shoelaces? Can they be counted? What is done with them? Who keeps them? Who notices the workboot laces and purple sparkles of children’s laces in the same bins? Where are all of those shoelaces now? Somewhere, there are thousands of shoelaces. Somewhere, there is this tangible record of this horror unfolding on our borders. I wonder who is bearing witness to these piles of shoelaces.

Time ran slowly for a while. I sat, shocked by the weight of the terrible. I know my horror pales in comparison to what my neighbors are going through. I cannot imagine what it is like to have your life fall apart so completely that you must ask neighbors for shoelaces.

I cannot forget those shoelaces. I imagine that from now on, every time I touch shoelaces, I will remember this day.

More friends and colleagues donated money that afternoon. I stopped to get food for myself at the grocery store because my packed lunch was insufficient. Deodorant was on sale, as were school supplies, so I gathered up backpacks and deodorant, $90 worth. When I got to the register, I stumbled into a sale, so it was only $65. I was in a hurry, needing to be back at work, so I didn’t go back for more.

Back at church, I unlocked the doors. Friends I had not seen in quite some time brought supplies. Another friend and I sorted through donations, getting them ready to go. At 7, I loaded my car. For some unknown reason, I reserved this task for myself, wanting to somehow count, know what was loaded.

Having money left from donations and some more thrown in over the course of the afternoon, I stopped at Target and bought every single pair of shoelaces I could find that might possibly be of use. They only had laces for men’s shoes, but I bought them. Workboot laces and sneaker laces and dress shoe laces. Seventeen pairs. The total was within 20¢ of the money I had left. I added the shoelaces to everything else and went home, so very tired.

Once upon a time, I would have said exhausted. That is not true. I was very tired. I was not exhausted. People who need shoelaces are exhausted, not me, who curled up in bed and watched a movie before drifting off to sleep, safe and secure in my own home.

May God have mercy on our neighbors who need shoelaces. I don’t know how to ask for God’s mercy for the rest of us.

Locking up Jesús

by Talitha Arnold

Once, a few centuries ago, two parents arrived with their child at the border of another country. They had fled their homeland because of the violence directed toward children like the infant they held in their arms. It had been a difficult journey across the desert, but the hope of safety for their child compelled them to keep walking.

There’s no record of what happened at the border, but the refugee family must have been welcomed, since they were able to stay in the new country until the terror in their homeland ended and it was safe for their child.

The parents were named Joseph and Mary (José y María, in Spanish). The toddler, of course, was Jesus, or Jesús in Spanish. Mary and Joseph were probably not the only parents who walked across the desert to find refuge in Egypt. King Herod’s reign of terror threatened every toddler boy under 2. Who wouldn’t flee such violence for the sake of their children?

Whether we call them Mary, Joseph and Jesus or María, José y Jesús, the biblical refugee family’s story is at the heart of the Christian faith. It should also be in the heart of every person — including every political leader — who claims to be Christian. How we treat refugees, how we welcome the stranger, how we love and care for those in need — all of that is informed by the life of the one who himself was a refugee, who grew up as a stranger in a strange land, who knew what it was like to be in need of the kindness of others.

As a Christian pastor and a U.S. citizen, I am a firm believer in the First Amendment’s separation of church and state. However, when political leaders use religious texts to justify government policies — as both Attorney General Jeff Sessions and White House press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders did last week — then religious leaders need to respond. Hence this article.

Moreover, if either Sessions or Sanders really knew their Christianity, they would know that Jesus himself broke political and religious laws time and again in order to obey the greatest law of all — to love God and love neighbor. In fact, had either of them kept reading a bit further in Romans 13, they’d seen that Paul affirmed Jesus’ teaching. “All the commandments can be summed up in this word,” Paul wrote, “ ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to the neighbor, therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.”

If political leaders are going to quote Christian scripture, they need to get it right. The heart of the Christian faith is to have the heart of the One who taught us to love our neighbor and care for the stranger. The One who was a refugee and found welcome in a new land.

this article originally appeared as the lead editorial in the Santa Fe New Mexican on June 23, 2018

Hope of a Teddy Bear

by Abigail Conley

This week, I have wept. Before this, I’d held back tears about the children in cages in detention centers. Maybe that’s why it’s been so long since I’ve written, actually, unwilling to open the flood gates. The dumpster fire is raging after all.

But many times over the last two days, I have wept.

On Saturday, an agency reuniting families sent a request for donations of items. While families have been held, there was little to collect in the way that churches do. The list was not long and many of the things you would expect: water and Gatorade, backpacks, pads, and snacks. I cried over one item, though: small stuffed animals. It wasn’t the stuffed animals, but the descriptor given: “comfort items for the children.”

My heart broke, the flood gates opened, and they haven’t stopped.

It’s a clinical descriptor, one I’ve heard before in education about child development. However, the deep place that I know it from is The Giver. If you haven’t read the children’s book, go get it and read it. I guarantee your local library has it. Like many of my favorite books, it’s set in a dystopian time–future or past, I don’t know. It is a world of sameness, though, and familial bonds have intentionally been destroyed. Children are born in one place, birthed by women of sturdy stock, but placed with families deemed more functional. Among many things, love is not a concept or a practice. Read the book; I promise that it’s really good.

In that world, children are given specific clothes to mark transitions. Items come and go at specific times in development, as they do for all children in the community. One of those items is a comfort object. The main character’s sister, Lily, is near to losing hers because of her age. It is, indeed, called a comfort object. She doesn’t realize in other places, it would be called an elephant. She has had it since infancy and sleeps with it at night. After all, that’s what comfort objects are for.

There’s some horrible reality when this phrase from dystopian fiction comes barreling into requests from churches. Last night, I went to Target and bought ten small teddy bears as my family’s contribution to the drive. Comfort objects.

My own childhood comfort object is stashed away at home. I’ve had it for more than thirty years now, a gift from family friends for my third birthday. At least that’s what my family tells me. I don’t remember getting Flop, but I do remember him always being with me. He’s a pink rabbit, now faded to nearly gray. His eye and head were reattached by my grandmother, her stitches still visible. Like Flop’s origins, my family remembers nighttime searches for him so that I could sleep. There were trips back to grandparents’ houses to retrieve him and flashlights taken to the playhouse. He was necessary and loved. My mom still rolls her eyes when I mention him, remembering the many times she moved hell and high water to find him; she’d do it, again. He’s still in my home for a reason.

Maybe I would not cry so much for these children if I didn’t have such an attachment for Flop. He represents a stability that every child deserves, from the bunny himself to the people who searched for him throughout my childhood. My parents still attend church with the people who bought him for me. There is so much stability wrapped up in that raggedy stuffed animal.

I am glad for these tears because we should mourn for these children who will never have that sort of stability in their lives. We should mourn for our complicity in their reality.

Strikingly, the best secular descriptor I have for the Reign of God also comes from The Giver. When the main character, Jonas, is realizing the gift he possesses, he catches a glimpse of red as he and his best friend are tossing an apple back and forth. In this world of sameness, most people do not see color. He only sees it occasionally and is never quite certain it was there and no one else sees it. When he does catch a glimpse, he wants to know more; it piques his curiosity. “Red” he learns later. “Red” describes this amazing thing.

I often think of that image. It’s Matthew’s “the kingdom of heaven is at hand” and all of the already and not yet of the Gospels. It’s the upside down of Luke that God would choose the poor over the rich, the child over the leader, and the simple over the complex. It’s beautiful and hopeful, even in the midst of threat.

As I write, people are dropping off the items needed. I have prayed over them many times today and will pray over them some more before handing them off. I hope they are at least a glimpse of something else. I don’t care at all if the people receiving would call it the reign of God. I hope they see a glimpse of a world where hungry people are fed, thirsty people are handed water, and children are comforted. I hope they see a glimpse of the fact that many of us would not choose their reality for any one. I hope it is a beautiful, wonderful glimpse of something, anything else.

Here’s hoping this little teddy bear does exceeds expectations in the Reign of God.

Please, Progressive Christian Blogosphere, Stop Telling People to Leave Their Church

by Karen Richter

Recently, I’ve heard increasing calls to justice-minded people of faith that sound like this: “If you don’t hear about (insert issue here) at church this Sunday, you should leave.”

Please stop.

Now I often agree with these folks on the issue at hand… immigration, racial justice, women’s equality, education. My problem is with leaving church as a protest or as part of the solution to the issue, and here’s why:

I’m loathe to tell anyone to leave their church as if I know best.

People stay in or leave relationships, including relationships with faith communities, for a wide variety of reasons. Do you know anyone who attends a church that doesn’t fully fit with their theology? I’ve been that person in a church before – always in tension between my friendships and my ideals and wondering when to speak up and when to just pray.

Plus there’s this uncomfortable truth. Church attendance continues to shrink. Let’s not be so quick to encourage people to leave.

Churches have a lot going on Sunday mornings and a lot of people to care for.

There was a season of grief a couple of years ago at Shadow Rock. We lost three beloved people from our congregation over about a month. During those few weeks, we didn’t have a lot of energy for the issues that we care about most. We wept; we held our friends close; we baked cookies for memorial services. The world with its beauties and horrors continued to spin, but we paused to grieve. Some times require an inward focus, a time of rest and healing, and self-care, even for our most activist, justice warrior congregations. Hear the call of the Spirit to be gentle with one another and hold one another in love.

Pastors/ministers/preacher creatures are not the only voices of faith in our churches.

You’re liable to get an earful from me on this point, friends! If your pastor is not speaking from the pulpit concerning an issue you’re passionate about, speak up! One of the glories of the United Church of Christ is our insistence that every level of the church is empowered to speak to every level of the church. Maybe we could say that we take very seriously (radically, even) the idea of the Priesthood of all Believers. If your church is silent on something that matters, maybe God is calling you to be a faithful voice in that place. Maybe your church leadership needs your encouragement. Maybe you need to get brave during Coffee Hour or adult education. Maybe what’s missing is YOU.

Perhaps (this is advanced citizenship in God’s realm!), we acknowledge to our friends and our pastors that sometimes we want to leave. We are genuine and honest about the push-pull of going and staying. It’s awkward! Yet painful conversation by painful conversation, we reveal to each other what we’re striving for and what keeps us awake in the wee hours.

Finally, religious consumerism is killing us slowly.

I tread carefully here. Of course I want people to love their churches. Of course I want people of faith to feel supported in faith communities. Of course I want churches to be strong forces of justice, peace, and grace – salt and light – all over the world.

BUT people aren’t perfect. Churches aren’t perfect. So when our communities disappoint us, when our leaders turn out to be clay-footed, when our church friends make bad or even terrible choices… we can go and try to find a better church or we can stay and try to make our church better. Both are valid. But when church people move on because of conflict or discomfort or fear, our communities suffer and our capacity to be the body of Christ in these troubling times suffers as well.

Please stay.

It’s Tough to be A Kid in This World

by Ryan Gear

I always want to be careful to investigate emotional stories before I comment. As we now know all too well, fake news is easy to produce and propagate through social media and cable news, and unsurprisingly, it turns out that we can’t believe everything we see on TV and the Internet. I don’t want to spread misinformation, so I want to be cautious about the stories I comment on.

Immigration has always been a controversial issue in the United States, and the emotional energy around immigration has now peaked again. Personally, I believe in smart immigration laws that protect our border and also offer opportunity to those who, like my Scots-Irish ancestors, wanted to build a better life in America. I believe that sensible laws can accomplish both. I don’t believe anyone, conservative or liberal, believes that our current situation is sensible, and as is often the case, it appears that children are the ones who are suffering the most.

When I saw the recent stories about asylum seeking children in the United States being separated from their parents at the border and kept in federal custody, I wanted to believe that it was sensationalism. The most dramatic story so far was told by a mother detained in Texas who claimed that her baby was taken from her while she was breastfeeding. Once these stories were picked up by multiple reputable news agencies, however, I decided to email my senators and urge them to act. If there is even a chance this has been happening during any presidential administration, whether Republican or Democrat, people of conscience simply cannot stand for this treatment of human beings.

On the June 14 edition of CBN news, Franklin Graham, a staunch evangelical supporter of the current president, called the policy “disgraceful” and deemed it a result of politicians kicking the can down the road for decades. No one with any moral compass can pretend that treatment of families is acceptable. The psychological trauma of such an event could affect these children for decades.

Even a cautious treatment of the situation reveals how morally warped it is. The left-leaning Washington Post wrote conservatively about the scene described by Senator Jeff Merkley that he saw that migrant children being kept in fenced-in spaces in McAllen, Texas. The article anemically argued over the semantics of whether or not the wire barriers surrounding the children could be called cages. Those urging compassion toward these families cite that the families are fleeing gang violence in Central America and should be welcomed as asylum seekers, not as prisoners.

The Toledo Blade reported on the recent ICE (Immigrant and Customs Enforcement) raid in Ohio in which 114 immigrants were detained, leaving 60 young children without at least one parent. Catholic Bishop Daniel E. Thomas said local parishes are working to help families affected by what he called ‘this extreme action.’

The most common defense I’ve heard from the roughly 30% of Americans who support this practice is that the parents broke the law. Asylum seekers are not breaking any laws. Even if they were, locking children in metal enclosures with no adult family members to care for them is not justifiable for any reason. This is not foster care. It is taking children away from their guardians and locking the children up. The president of the American Academy of Pediatrics, Dr. Colleen Kraft flatly stated, “It is a form of child abuse.” Again, I believe that immigration should be governed by laws, but is separating screaming children from their crying parents and placenta them in cells the way a moral society should conduct itself?

Immigration is a complex issue, but these children are not the only ones who are suffering. In the United States, 21% of all children live below the poverty level. Depending on the source, between 400 million and 600 million children live in extreme poverty worldwide, lacking basic necessities for a healthy life. Approximately 150 million children in the world are victims of forced child labor. Roughly 25% of adults report being abused as children. The Christian relief organization Compassion International reported that, “Globally in 2014, 1 billion children aged 2–17 years experienced physical, sexual, emotional or multiple types of violence.”

When I am faced with the plight of children in our world, I am personally convinced that more forward-thinking Christians like myself need to revisit the doctrine of sin. A realistic view of evil would open our eyes to the reality of our world and its causes and solutions.

An honest view of sin would also provide further moral grounding and righteous fuel for justice work. Some of my progressive friends are moved by the injustice in our world but at the same time would rather believe that humans are basically good. I agree that we are created to be good, but I don’t ignore the fall and more importantly the daily reality of our world that Genesis chapter 3 attempts to explain.

As much as I would like to agree with them, I simply see too much suffering caused by human beings to believe such a claim. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote in his sermon “Man’s Sin and God’s Grace,” “There is something wrong with human nature, something basically and fundamentally wrong. A recognition of this fact stands as one of the basic assumptions of our Christian faith.”

Yes, many heart-warming good deeds go unreported by the nightly news, but when compared to the evil committed against the vulnerable of our world, they seem like a band-aid on a hemorrhaging wound. Helping an old lady cross the street is good and needed, but it does not address the hideousness of children being taken from their parents and kept in cages while they scream for their mommies and daddies.

Gandhi’s famous quote: “The true measure of any society can be found in how it treats its most vulnerable members” is an indictment on the whole world. As illustrated by children being kept in cells near our southern border, an honest look at our world reveals that it is fundamentally unjust and evil, and every human being participating in this world bears responsibility.

Some of us deny that we have any role to play, while some of us feel excused by our own indifference. As the great rock band Rush point out in their song “Freewill, “If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.” Living insulated lives in suburban America does not exempt us from seeing what is really happening to children on this planet.

Decrying the injustice he saw within his culture, the prophet Jeremiah proclaimed in Jeremiah 17:9-10:

The heart is deceitful above all things
and beyond cure.
Who can understand it?

“I the Lord search the heart
and examine the mind,
to reward each person according to their conduct,
according to what their deeds deserve.”

In a separatist religious culture that believed its food choices religiously defiled them, Jesus taught his disciples in Mark 7:21-23:

“’For it is from within, out of a person’s heart, that evil thoughts come—sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and defile a person.’”

My sweet little two-year old son loves the Disney movie Moana and watches it over and over, so I’ve probably seen snippets of it at least 75 times. As Moana’s grandmother tells the children in the opening scene, the moment the demigod Maui stole the heart of the fiti, darkness began spreading throughout the world. This is a picture of how the evil within the human heart works its way throughout society, discoloring all human relationships- self-serving politics, economic inequality, racism, war, harassment and rape, child abuse, exploitation, and on and on.

Those of us who are Christians must ask ourselves, “What does Jesus think about the most vulnerable of our society being mistreated?”

Speaking specifically about evil committed against children, in Matthew 18:1:7, we have probably the most hard-hitting words spoken by Jesus in the Gospels:

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.

“If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea. Woe to the world because of the things that cause people to stumble! Such things must come, but woe to the person through whom they come!”

Tying a rock around someone’s neck and throwing him into the ocean sounds like a mob hit, and for those who mistreat children, Jesus says this would be preferable to facing God’s wrath in the age to come. He makes it crystal clear that God will deal severely with those who harm the most vulnerable in society. With the pain the children of this world are forced to endure, there are an awful lot of people who would be better off looking for millstones.

To “become like little children,” in Jesus’ words, probably means to humble ourselves and embrace learning and news ways of seeing the world, namely God’s way. As a dad, I am painfully aware that children are like little sponges. Their developing brains absorb every word and action they see in their parents, whether we want them to or not. Like a little child, we can choose to absorb God’s concern scriptural concern for justice and righteousness.

Jesus’ instruction to become like little children was given in the context of His disciples wondering who would be greatest in the coming age of God’s kingdom. They wanted status, power, and position. In contrast, Jesus urges them to humble themselves, learn, understand, and serve others instead of jockeying for a superior position.

Jesus’ teaching here is the beginning of addressing the evil in our world. What is required is a change within the human heart, that, like restoring the heart of te fiti, works its way throughout society, shining light where there was darkness and giving life where there was decay. That humbleness and willingness to serve is the only way that the most vulnerable in our world can be relieved of the evil treatment they suffer now.

The more we all become like little children, the easier it will become to be a kid.