For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.

2 Corinthians 8:9

The Kingdom of God was never meant to be one of power. From the very beginning, God inhabited humbleness in his humanity. Born as a child, a helpless baby. Unable to feed Himself, clean Himself, or even go to the bathroom without needing to be changed by someone else’s hands.

And He did not choose to be born into power or privilege. Instead, Christ was born to the least ‘important’ tribe of Israel, to a woman whose reputation was besmirched. He was born an immigrant, homeless, shortly to become a refugee.

In his life and ministry, Jesus did not make a project of the empowered. The established church in Jerusalem was powerful. They held money and reputation and sway on the community. It would have been strategic to play politic, to win over the Pharisees and Sadducees, to get the endorsement of those who were educated, wealthy, well connected, estimable. Instead, those were the ones Jesus seemed to criticize the most. He mercilessly pulled at the strings of power, unravelling systems that benefitted them and showing the ways that power had corrupted the truth and authenticity of faith.

In America today, the church has power. Money, privilege, political sway. There is a certain brand of faith that has been endorsed as correct, and if you line up and support the official party line, there are rewards. Life is easy. You are a Good Person. You have Right Beliefs. Your people get elected, and you have the benefit of having a lot of very vocal people agreeing with you. It seems like it fits. But, when you look closely, you realize that there are some important elements missing from the picture. Where are the people that Jesus spent time with? Those individuals He chose to identify with? The refugees, the sinners, the rough and tumble, the not good enough? Where are those whose voices aren’t loud enough to matter? The poor and the oppressed? The voices that don’t agree with you or don’t share your set of beliefs? Jesus spent his time with tax collectors, fallen women, the sick and the poor, those from not around here and the widows and the grief stricken. His cabinet members were day laborers, not the elite. The story of Christ’s birth was not announced to the mayor of the town or the pastor of the megachurch, instead God summoned some third shift workers and some scientists of another faith and culture.

While Evangelical Christianity may be vocal and authoritative in our country right now, there is a growing group of believers who do not espouse their beliefs or strive for their power. Instead, this ragtag band of believers seek relational influence. They set out not to build a kingdom in the traditional sense through laws and money, but to inhabit the Kingdom of God. This group seeks to be defined by who they love and accept, instead of critiquing others on the basis of their decisions or sins. It’s a big table. Battered and scarred from years of family dinners, comfortable and a bit shabby, in the most warm and inviting way. Instead of a banquet hall (fellowship hall if you will), it is a kitchen table, unpretentious and homey. It’s steamy in the room and smells of baking bread and hints of memories of wine and nutmeg.

This is the brand of faith you find at marches for equality. You find its believers creating relationships with people who are different from them, not just turning them into projects or community initiatives. Its a place where you are welcome, whether you profess Jesus or not, because we all have value, divine spark, no matter where we are on our journey. It doesn’t matter if you love men or women, if you are white or brown or black. Most of the leaders, in fact, come from those whose lives have been marked by oppression. Voices of wisdom and experience, educated by loss and hardship. They do their best to listen, to witness, and to be changed. They don’t hold perfection as the ideal, because they recognize the pitfalls of pride and judgement. Instead, their identity is marked by grace, their lives defined by divine and ever patient Love. Disagreement isn’t a threat, it is an invitation to grow.

If you find yourself disillusioned by faith right now, may I hazard a guess that may in face be a disillusion with power? With a need to always be Right, to Not Sin, to Agree? Perhaps our faith should not be defined by how we live or who we judge, but instead by how big we love? This Advent, there is an invitation to come to the family table. To just relax and rest and not do so much. To be recognized and identified by who you are instead of what you do. Not to serve or to lead but instead be nourished. To let love and laughter and acceptance just as you are wash over you, and be able to give that grace to others. Wrap your hands around a warm mug and slide your spoon into a bowl of soup, thick with vegetables and heart. Just… be. Today, that is all that is asked of you.