Near the end of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus delivered the following words:
Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. 14 But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. (Matthew 7:13-4)
Typically pastors present this passage as a message about resisting culture. The wider, secular culture is the wide gate and broad road, whereas Jesus/Christianity/church is the small gate and narrow road. On some level this is true. The Gospel is always counter-cultural and requires a significant amount of swimming upstream against the whims and seductions of human culture. However, we often miss the more poignant point of the text for a simple reason: our roads are too good.
I live in Raleigh, NC, a place I often refer to as having “enough city but not too much.” The Raleigh metropolitan area is one of the fastest growing cities in the country, but as of 2014, Raleigh-Durham was still only the 24th largest media market in the country. Raleigh has a rapidly growing downtown, but if you drive 20 minutes in any direction, you can feel like you are in the country. And in between are a wide variety of urban and suburban landscapes.
What this means is, every day I drive on a variety of roads. To get to work I drive on two-lane roads lined by trees and on eight-lane highways with 70-mph speed limits. However, despite the differences in the size, these roads are seldom qualitatively different. They are all paved, relatively smooth, and safe. Despite slight variations, the driving experience is pretty uniform.
Jesus knew nothing of roads like this!
The adjective that Jesus uses here in the Greek, which the English translators have rendered “narrow,” is TETHLIMMENE. This is derived from the verb THLIBO, which means “to press upon, squeeze, pinch, or compress.” This is the verb the word for “bruise” was derived from, and it also carries a metaphorical meaning of, “to oppress, afflict, or distress.” This is the verb Paul used when he said, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8). Thus, when Jesus uses this to describe the road that leads to life, he means a road that presses in on you, a road that squeezes and bruises you, a road that is treacherous and distressing, a road upon which you needed to be on high-alert.
In Jesus’ world, thanks to Greco-Roman imperialism, there was a vast system of major roads used for international trade. These roads were wide, spacious, and flat. They were designed for transporting large convoys of goods and people and were usually “paved” with large stones or a layer of sand. However, especially in the rocky hill country of first century Judea and Galilee, there were also “roads” that were little more than footpaths, barely wide enough for people and animals to pass through (with great care) single file.
One such road was the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. In Luke 10:25-37, Jesus tells a story about a man who, while on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, was beaten, robbed, and left for dead. Both a Priest and a Levite “passed by on the other side” of the road offering no assistance, but a Samaritan helps the man, taking him to safety and bearing any costs for his care. The poignancy of this parable was, in part, derived from the fact that the road from Jerusalem to Jericho was an actual road upon which people were frequently assaulted by thieves.
In Jesus’ day, this road was known as the “Way of Blood.” The path was carved into the rocky hills creating countless places for robbers to hide, and it was so narrow at points that animals had to be led slowly through, making escape virtually impossible. (Jesus’ “other side of the road” comment would have been darkly funny, because there was no “other side of the road”!) One wrong step could send animal and owner falling to their deaths off the steep slope next to the road. In other words, the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, like many narrow, pressing, squeezing roads in the ancient world, was an 18-mile exercise in focus and concentration. In thinking, adapting, and being acutely aware of your surroundings.
To put all this another way, when Jesus tells his followers, “Broad is the road that leads to destruction… and narrow is road that leads to life,” the dichotomy Jesus is highlighting isn’t really about size or numbers. It’s about the amount of thinking, attention, and effort the two roads require. Probably a more accurate translation would be, “Easy (comfortable, convenient, simple) is the road that leads to destruction; Difficult (complex, demanding, intense) is the road that leads to life... And few find it.”
The wide road is the road you can take without thinking. It is the road you can navigate on autopilot. Even if your lack of attentiveness causes you to stumble and fall, no big deal. Tuck and roll, and continue on your journey. But the narrow road is not a road you can navigate mindlessly. If you’re not thinking, evaluating, and re-evaluating at all times you will break an ankle, fall to your death, or get smacked in the ear hole by a thief.
It appears that Jesus expected this Christianity thing to be a fairly intellectually rigorous enterprise. It seems he wanted us to be people that thought deeply about things, that never settled for mindless regurgitations of simplistic dogmas. Earlier in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus presents a series of “You heard it said” statements, all designed to challenge people to go one level deeper than the conventional thinking of their day. Later, the apostle Paul wrote to the church in Rome, “Do not conform to the pattern of this Age, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds” (Romans 12:2). Transformation requires the renewing of our minds. Paul also told the church in Thessalonica to “test everything; hold on to what is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:19-22).
In other words, people who claim to follow Jesus should be the most critically engaged, deeply thoughtful people around! Christians should be leading their cultures in intelligent, nuanced thinking. We should be the brave few who acknowledge the complexity of issues and consider all sides of discussions. Not to mention the fact that we should be holding all our ideas and opinions with great humility. As Ecclesiastes 5:2 says,
God is in heaven
and you are on earth,
so let your words be few.
Tragically, we seem to have done the complete opposite.
I often joke with friends that our society is simultaneously the smartest and dumbest society in the history of the world. We have more information at our fingertips than any previous generation could have dreamed of. We are capable of scientific and technological feats no previous society could have dreamed of. Yet we have become unthinking and recalcitrant. Everyone seems utterly convinced that they already know everything, which makes you incapable of learning, growth, or change!
Against this backdrop, the Christian church has, in many instances, been the worst perpetrator of this willful unintelligence. We have exchanged discipleship (a word that implies change) for certainty (a word that implies inertia), and we seldom think about, wrestle with, or question our beliefs and assumptions.
There is a quote by Catholic scholar Luke Timothy Johnson that has become a mantra of sorts at our church: “[The Church is to be] a sacrament of the world’s possibility, a sign of what the world can be.” The Church exists to show the world an alternate reality, a reality in which God’s kingdom (His way, His values, His Spirit) is on display.
I have come to believe that one of the first and primary ways the Church needs to be a sacrament of the world’s possibility, a sign of what it is capable of being, is in the way we think about and discuss culture and politics. At a time when America (and much of Europe) is paralyzed by arrogance, fear, and certainty, the world needs the Church to be a better version of itself. To speak with humility and love in all circumstances and to build bridges of understanding. To be the people who will reinvent and redefine the conversation, who will seek to see both sides of the discussion when others willfully misunderstand and manipulate, who will acknowledge the value and dignity of opposing perspectives and seek to bring respect and reconciliation between opposing parties.
The simple reality is this: there is no one else to do it. The political parties won’t do it. Their continued existence is dependent upon conflict with the other. Individuals politicians will likely not do it (at least not at the scale needed for legitimate change). Their continued relevance is dependent upon the system, which is dependent upon the parties, which are dependent on the conflicts.
No one else has reason to do it. If you have placed your primary identity and hopes in a political party or ideology, you have no choice but to fight to perpetuate the system that gives you legitimacy. Only a people who were committed to something that transcended politics and culture, could stand as the peacemakers and voices of reason. It is our job, and it is time we start doing it!!!
***********
Let’s think about this from another angle. Often we think of the human brain (if we think of it at all) as wholly unique in the animal kingdom. We assume that its structures and methods of functioning are completely different from all “lower” species. This is not true.
In reality, the human brain has unique highly evolved brain structures added “on top” of less evolved structures shared with other members of the animal kingdom. Two of the most prominent brain structures that illustrate this are the Prefrontal Cortex and the Amygdala. The Prefrontal Cortex is the area of the brain that is responsible for rational thought, whereas the Amygdala is a less evolved brain structure responsible for processing emotion, particularly fear.
The Amygdala is the part of the brain which is responsible for our fight or flight impulses. It responds virtually instantaneously to stimuli causing the release of adrenaline, increasing the heart rate, and enabling animals to respond to immediate threats. From an evolutionary perspective, the amygdala is obviously very important for survival, and this process is something we share with countless other animals.
In contrast, the prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for executive function and much more highly developed in humans than other animal species, processes information more slowly and systematically. This is why when you are called into your boss’s office or a police cruiser happens to maneuver behind you in traffic you have a moment of pure, unadulterated panic. Then you look at your speedometer or mentally review your recent work performance and realize you have nothing to worry about. The Amygdala fires creating a reactionary response. Then the prefrontal cortex has a rational conversation and talks your brain off the ledge.
In other words, we have, in a sense, a human brain wrapped around an animal brain. All the chemicals, impulses, and brain structures that have allowed animals to survive for millions of years are implanted in us as well. They are just tempered and counterbalanced (or perhaps transcended) by the added gifts of higher level reasoning.
Now, the utterly fascinating aspect of this is that philosophical and religious traditions posited ideas like this long ago. Plato, in his dialogue Phaedrus, described the human soul as two winged horses pulling a chariot. One horse is black, representing humanity’s hedonistic impulses; the other is white, representing humanity’s more noble impulses. The two horses, in essence, represent the emotional, intuitive side of the soul. Over and against these is the charioteer who represents Reason. His goal is to tame, overcome, and direct these two “lower” levels of the human soul toward truth.
Perhaps more pertinent to our conversation is the Jewish tradition of the animal soul. According to Jewish Kaballah, humans have two souls: an animal soul (Nephesh haBehamit) and a divine soul (Nephesh haElokis). The animal soul is not necessarily evil. It is simply animalistic. The animal soul generates the desire for food, sex, pleasure, etc., all of which have their place. However, when left to it’s own devices, the animal soul will wreak havoc and destruction.
On the other hand, the divine soul transcends, balances, and seeks to control the animal soul. When the desires of the animal soul make a person want to transgress a mitzvah (commandment), the divine soul steps in, using reason, faith, and self-control to fulfill the mitzvot. And significantly, according to this wisdom tradition, the “victory” of the Nephesh haElokis is not automatic but is developed through discipline and repetition. In fact, when one desires and works for the strengthening of the Nephesh haElokis, it can even reshape the Nephesh haBehamit so that their desires correspond.
Given that the Bible tells us that humans are created in God’s image, it is not an absurd leap to associate the Nephesh haElokis (the divine aspect of our being) with our uniquely human rational faculties. It is also not a leap to suggest that modern neuroscience, ancient Greek philosophy, and modern Judaism are all describing the same reality. There is a part of the human psyche that is animalistic and a part that is more than that, higher, transcendent.
Now, here is why this matters and is pertinent to our discussion. Taking all this into account, I think you can make a strong case that when we are reactive, when we are operating out of fear and anger, we are being less than human!
The animal portion of our brain is quick to react. It has been embedded with a fear instinct that immediately ignites a fight or flight reaction, anger or withdrawal. It is fundamentally reactive and dualistic. (An antelope can’t assess all the nuances of its situation when a lion appears in the grass. It is all or nothing. Run or die.) This is a level of thinking and reacting that is shared across the animal kingdom and has little to do with what makes us uniquely human.
On the other hand, the part of our brain/soul/psyche that distinguishes us from all other animals is our slow-moving, cool-headed prefrontal cortex (among other things). Neurologically and spiritually speaking, the thing that makes us human (divine-animal hybrids) is the ability of a higher level of thinking to win over the Amygdala. It is our ability to interrogate that initial emotional reaction, disarm it, and apply a higher more nuanced level of thinking to our lives and problems.
When we are tearing each other apart... when we are on the attack (or the withdrawal)... when we are thinking dualistically, superimposing simplistic either/or equations onto the world... We are, simply put, acting like animals. We are forsaking the image of God and living out of our animal souls.
Brothers and sisters, when I read the news these days, it feels like we’ve all indeed become animals. We look more like lizards with language than we do beings animated by the Divine! Fear and anger rule the day. It feels like we are living a collective survival instinct, millions of rabid animals backed into corners with their hair raised and teeth bared.
This can’t be what God wanted for us and from us!
To bring these two discussions together… the wide road is the animal soul. It is where we go when we’re not trying. It’s where we go when we are not actively trying to be something better.
I do not want to fight or flee! I do not want to add my voice to the vitriol (even though things often make me mad), and I do not want to retreat into apathy (even though what we’ve created often makes me want to run off and live in the woods). I want to be something better. I want to be a peacemaker and a problem solver. I want to use my prefrontal cortex and honor the image of God within me. And I want this for my whole generation!
I want our country and our cancerous political system to be redeemed and transformed. But, as Paul said long ago, I am convinced this transformation must begin with a renewal of our minds, a willingness to think and humbly wrestle with nuance and complexity.
We must, first and foremost, become thinkers again. After all, animals have never created a successful government!
Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. 14 But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. (Matthew 7:13-4)
Typically pastors present this passage as a message about resisting culture. The wider, secular culture is the wide gate and broad road, whereas Jesus/Christianity/church is the small gate and narrow road. On some level this is true. The Gospel is always counter-cultural and requires a significant amount of swimming upstream against the whims and seductions of human culture. However, we often miss the more poignant point of the text for a simple reason: our roads are too good.
I live in Raleigh, NC, a place I often refer to as having “enough city but not too much.” The Raleigh metropolitan area is one of the fastest growing cities in the country, but as of 2014, Raleigh-Durham was still only the 24th largest media market in the country. Raleigh has a rapidly growing downtown, but if you drive 20 minutes in any direction, you can feel like you are in the country. And in between are a wide variety of urban and suburban landscapes.
What this means is, every day I drive on a variety of roads. To get to work I drive on two-lane roads lined by trees and on eight-lane highways with 70-mph speed limits. However, despite the differences in the size, these roads are seldom qualitatively different. They are all paved, relatively smooth, and safe. Despite slight variations, the driving experience is pretty uniform.
Jesus knew nothing of roads like this!
The adjective that Jesus uses here in the Greek, which the English translators have rendered “narrow,” is TETHLIMMENE. This is derived from the verb THLIBO, which means “to press upon, squeeze, pinch, or compress.” This is the verb the word for “bruise” was derived from, and it also carries a metaphorical meaning of, “to oppress, afflict, or distress.” This is the verb Paul used when he said, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8). Thus, when Jesus uses this to describe the road that leads to life, he means a road that presses in on you, a road that squeezes and bruises you, a road that is treacherous and distressing, a road upon which you needed to be on high-alert.
In Jesus’ world, thanks to Greco-Roman imperialism, there was a vast system of major roads used for international trade. These roads were wide, spacious, and flat. They were designed for transporting large convoys of goods and people and were usually “paved” with large stones or a layer of sand. However, especially in the rocky hill country of first century Judea and Galilee, there were also “roads” that were little more than footpaths, barely wide enough for people and animals to pass through (with great care) single file.
One such road was the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. In Luke 10:25-37, Jesus tells a story about a man who, while on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, was beaten, robbed, and left for dead. Both a Priest and a Levite “passed by on the other side” of the road offering no assistance, but a Samaritan helps the man, taking him to safety and bearing any costs for his care. The poignancy of this parable was, in part, derived from the fact that the road from Jerusalem to Jericho was an actual road upon which people were frequently assaulted by thieves.
In Jesus’ day, this road was known as the “Way of Blood.” The path was carved into the rocky hills creating countless places for robbers to hide, and it was so narrow at points that animals had to be led slowly through, making escape virtually impossible. (Jesus’ “other side of the road” comment would have been darkly funny, because there was no “other side of the road”!) One wrong step could send animal and owner falling to their deaths off the steep slope next to the road. In other words, the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, like many narrow, pressing, squeezing roads in the ancient world, was an 18-mile exercise in focus and concentration. In thinking, adapting, and being acutely aware of your surroundings.
To put all this another way, when Jesus tells his followers, “Broad is the road that leads to destruction… and narrow is road that leads to life,” the dichotomy Jesus is highlighting isn’t really about size or numbers. It’s about the amount of thinking, attention, and effort the two roads require. Probably a more accurate translation would be, “Easy (comfortable, convenient, simple) is the road that leads to destruction; Difficult (complex, demanding, intense) is the road that leads to life... And few find it.”
The wide road is the road you can take without thinking. It is the road you can navigate on autopilot. Even if your lack of attentiveness causes you to stumble and fall, no big deal. Tuck and roll, and continue on your journey. But the narrow road is not a road you can navigate mindlessly. If you’re not thinking, evaluating, and re-evaluating at all times you will break an ankle, fall to your death, or get smacked in the ear hole by a thief.
It appears that Jesus expected this Christianity thing to be a fairly intellectually rigorous enterprise. It seems he wanted us to be people that thought deeply about things, that never settled for mindless regurgitations of simplistic dogmas. Earlier in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus presents a series of “You heard it said” statements, all designed to challenge people to go one level deeper than the conventional thinking of their day. Later, the apostle Paul wrote to the church in Rome, “Do not conform to the pattern of this Age, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds” (Romans 12:2). Transformation requires the renewing of our minds. Paul also told the church in Thessalonica to “test everything; hold on to what is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:19-22).
In other words, people who claim to follow Jesus should be the most critically engaged, deeply thoughtful people around! Christians should be leading their cultures in intelligent, nuanced thinking. We should be the brave few who acknowledge the complexity of issues and consider all sides of discussions. Not to mention the fact that we should be holding all our ideas and opinions with great humility. As Ecclesiastes 5:2 says,
God is in heaven
and you are on earth,
so let your words be few.
Tragically, we seem to have done the complete opposite.
I often joke with friends that our society is simultaneously the smartest and dumbest society in the history of the world. We have more information at our fingertips than any previous generation could have dreamed of. We are capable of scientific and technological feats no previous society could have dreamed of. Yet we have become unthinking and recalcitrant. Everyone seems utterly convinced that they already know everything, which makes you incapable of learning, growth, or change!
Against this backdrop, the Christian church has, in many instances, been the worst perpetrator of this willful unintelligence. We have exchanged discipleship (a word that implies change) for certainty (a word that implies inertia), and we seldom think about, wrestle with, or question our beliefs and assumptions.
There is a quote by Catholic scholar Luke Timothy Johnson that has become a mantra of sorts at our church: “[The Church is to be] a sacrament of the world’s possibility, a sign of what the world can be.” The Church exists to show the world an alternate reality, a reality in which God’s kingdom (His way, His values, His Spirit) is on display.
I have come to believe that one of the first and primary ways the Church needs to be a sacrament of the world’s possibility, a sign of what it is capable of being, is in the way we think about and discuss culture and politics. At a time when America (and much of Europe) is paralyzed by arrogance, fear, and certainty, the world needs the Church to be a better version of itself. To speak with humility and love in all circumstances and to build bridges of understanding. To be the people who will reinvent and redefine the conversation, who will seek to see both sides of the discussion when others willfully misunderstand and manipulate, who will acknowledge the value and dignity of opposing perspectives and seek to bring respect and reconciliation between opposing parties.
The simple reality is this: there is no one else to do it. The political parties won’t do it. Their continued existence is dependent upon conflict with the other. Individuals politicians will likely not do it (at least not at the scale needed for legitimate change). Their continued relevance is dependent upon the system, which is dependent upon the parties, which are dependent on the conflicts.
No one else has reason to do it. If you have placed your primary identity and hopes in a political party or ideology, you have no choice but to fight to perpetuate the system that gives you legitimacy. Only a people who were committed to something that transcended politics and culture, could stand as the peacemakers and voices of reason. It is our job, and it is time we start doing it!!!
***********
Let’s think about this from another angle. Often we think of the human brain (if we think of it at all) as wholly unique in the animal kingdom. We assume that its structures and methods of functioning are completely different from all “lower” species. This is not true.
In reality, the human brain has unique highly evolved brain structures added “on top” of less evolved structures shared with other members of the animal kingdom. Two of the most prominent brain structures that illustrate this are the Prefrontal Cortex and the Amygdala. The Prefrontal Cortex is the area of the brain that is responsible for rational thought, whereas the Amygdala is a less evolved brain structure responsible for processing emotion, particularly fear.
The Amygdala is the part of the brain which is responsible for our fight or flight impulses. It responds virtually instantaneously to stimuli causing the release of adrenaline, increasing the heart rate, and enabling animals to respond to immediate threats. From an evolutionary perspective, the amygdala is obviously very important for survival, and this process is something we share with countless other animals.
In contrast, the prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for executive function and much more highly developed in humans than other animal species, processes information more slowly and systematically. This is why when you are called into your boss’s office or a police cruiser happens to maneuver behind you in traffic you have a moment of pure, unadulterated panic. Then you look at your speedometer or mentally review your recent work performance and realize you have nothing to worry about. The Amygdala fires creating a reactionary response. Then the prefrontal cortex has a rational conversation and talks your brain off the ledge.
In other words, we have, in a sense, a human brain wrapped around an animal brain. All the chemicals, impulses, and brain structures that have allowed animals to survive for millions of years are implanted in us as well. They are just tempered and counterbalanced (or perhaps transcended) by the added gifts of higher level reasoning.
Now, the utterly fascinating aspect of this is that philosophical and religious traditions posited ideas like this long ago. Plato, in his dialogue Phaedrus, described the human soul as two winged horses pulling a chariot. One horse is black, representing humanity’s hedonistic impulses; the other is white, representing humanity’s more noble impulses. The two horses, in essence, represent the emotional, intuitive side of the soul. Over and against these is the charioteer who represents Reason. His goal is to tame, overcome, and direct these two “lower” levels of the human soul toward truth.
Perhaps more pertinent to our conversation is the Jewish tradition of the animal soul. According to Jewish Kaballah, humans have two souls: an animal soul (Nephesh haBehamit) and a divine soul (Nephesh haElokis). The animal soul is not necessarily evil. It is simply animalistic. The animal soul generates the desire for food, sex, pleasure, etc., all of which have their place. However, when left to it’s own devices, the animal soul will wreak havoc and destruction.
On the other hand, the divine soul transcends, balances, and seeks to control the animal soul. When the desires of the animal soul make a person want to transgress a mitzvah (commandment), the divine soul steps in, using reason, faith, and self-control to fulfill the mitzvot. And significantly, according to this wisdom tradition, the “victory” of the Nephesh haElokis is not automatic but is developed through discipline and repetition. In fact, when one desires and works for the strengthening of the Nephesh haElokis, it can even reshape the Nephesh haBehamit so that their desires correspond.
Given that the Bible tells us that humans are created in God’s image, it is not an absurd leap to associate the Nephesh haElokis (the divine aspect of our being) with our uniquely human rational faculties. It is also not a leap to suggest that modern neuroscience, ancient Greek philosophy, and modern Judaism are all describing the same reality. There is a part of the human psyche that is animalistic and a part that is more than that, higher, transcendent.
Now, here is why this matters and is pertinent to our discussion. Taking all this into account, I think you can make a strong case that when we are reactive, when we are operating out of fear and anger, we are being less than human!
The animal portion of our brain is quick to react. It has been embedded with a fear instinct that immediately ignites a fight or flight reaction, anger or withdrawal. It is fundamentally reactive and dualistic. (An antelope can’t assess all the nuances of its situation when a lion appears in the grass. It is all or nothing. Run or die.) This is a level of thinking and reacting that is shared across the animal kingdom and has little to do with what makes us uniquely human.
On the other hand, the part of our brain/soul/psyche that distinguishes us from all other animals is our slow-moving, cool-headed prefrontal cortex (among other things). Neurologically and spiritually speaking, the thing that makes us human (divine-animal hybrids) is the ability of a higher level of thinking to win over the Amygdala. It is our ability to interrogate that initial emotional reaction, disarm it, and apply a higher more nuanced level of thinking to our lives and problems.
When we are tearing each other apart... when we are on the attack (or the withdrawal)... when we are thinking dualistically, superimposing simplistic either/or equations onto the world... We are, simply put, acting like animals. We are forsaking the image of God and living out of our animal souls.
Brothers and sisters, when I read the news these days, it feels like we’ve all indeed become animals. We look more like lizards with language than we do beings animated by the Divine! Fear and anger rule the day. It feels like we are living a collective survival instinct, millions of rabid animals backed into corners with their hair raised and teeth bared.
This can’t be what God wanted for us and from us!
To bring these two discussions together… the wide road is the animal soul. It is where we go when we’re not trying. It’s where we go when we are not actively trying to be something better.
I do not want to fight or flee! I do not want to add my voice to the vitriol (even though things often make me mad), and I do not want to retreat into apathy (even though what we’ve created often makes me want to run off and live in the woods). I want to be something better. I want to be a peacemaker and a problem solver. I want to use my prefrontal cortex and honor the image of God within me. And I want this for my whole generation!
I want our country and our cancerous political system to be redeemed and transformed. But, as Paul said long ago, I am convinced this transformation must begin with a renewal of our minds, a willingness to think and humbly wrestle with nuance and complexity.
We must, first and foremost, become thinkers again. After all, animals have never created a successful government!
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