Jesus Wants Me For An Activist

Photo by Jody England Hansen.

My first memory of being involved in activism was when I was about 8. This was in the mid 1960s. A large and powerful company was using its influence and resources to get zoning changed in an area of Palo Alto that had many historic homes in it. This area was near a hospital, and the company wanted to expand the hospital into a large medical center which would cover quite a few blocks of this residential neighborhood, requiring all the homes to be torn down. It was not far from where we lived in our early 20^th century home, where I could earn extra money by scraping layers of old paint off the wood wainscoting as my parents worked to pull old carpet off the wood floors and restore the house to former beauty.

Mom and Dad held planning meetings in our home with other concerned neighbors and ward members. The efforts of many succeeded in getting this issue on the ballot, and there was a campaign to vote the zone change down. I remember how impressed I was when my dad was on T.V. during a segment on the local news where citizens can share information about opposing sides of an issue. Most days after school, Dad would drive me and my sister and younger brother to different neighborhoods, drop us off with an armful of information flyers, told us to tuck one in each mailbox and meet him at the other side of the neighborhood. Then he would take off to distribute flyers to other areas. I also took these flyers to school and asked my friends to give them to their parents, and their parents’ friends.

We anxiously watched for the results come in on election night, and were thrilled when the proposition in favor of the zone change was defeated. The next day, Mom and Dad loaded us in the station wagon, and slowly drove us through the neighborhood that was now safe from rezoning and demolition. This is where I visited friends who lived there, and where we rode our bikes, or walked on our way to church. As we drove past the houses, I saw that many of them had large handmade banners hanging from the porches or windows that said, “Thank you for saving our home.” Something really impressed me when I saw that.

I remember Dad telling us that we had helped make this happen. Even the few flyers we had placed in the mailboxes, or handed to friends, had made a difference.

I remember other issues that became the subject of meetings and actions. One time, a young woman who belonged to the tribal people who occupied Alcatraz Island for a time as they advocated for rights and recognition, she came to the house to share her personal experience with a group my parents had invited. Later, Dad asked us if we wanted to donate some of our chore money to support her cause.

I remember looking at articles in Life magazine, and asking Dad about the civil rights marches pictured in them. He pointed out some of his friends who were marching with Dr. Martin Luther King, and why they were marching. He let me see the horrible pictures of police dogs attacking demonstrators, and listened as I asked over and over why anyone would do that to someone – why anyone would let that happen.

Intertwined in all the conversations about marches, demonstrations, actions, and efforts to overcome injustice, was the desire to follow the example of Christ. The lesson for me that became inseparable from wanting to follow Jesus was this – If you see a need, an injustice, and there is something you can do about it, Jesus calls you to do it. The parable of the Good Samaritan became a familiar story for me. I didn’t want to be the one who turned away and crossed the road if there was someone who was hurt and needed help.

It was some years before I truly appreciated my childhood experience of being able to take on any practice of activism from a place of safety and privilege. Any sorrow or upset I felt back then about what I saw on the news, or the student demonstrations, I was experiencing this in a place of safety and comfort. And alongside other people from my ward who also felt called as followers of Christ to take actions against injustice.

It was some years before I had an appreciation for the complexities of that parable of the Good Samaritan, or before I was drawn to take on a deeper commitment to the more powerful parable of the Sheep and the Goats. For decades now, I see activist work as another type of vicarious work which is such an essential part of church activity. Anything I do for my fellow being, I do for God. Anything I don’t do for my fellow being, I don’t do for God. When I consider this, it is more possible for me to set aside any need for agreement or disagreement, or pressure to align with past prejudice and dogma, but rather for me to focus on a commitment to make a difference. A commitment to practice the kind of radical activism lived by Christ.

There have been recent talks and actions by some church leaders and members that have suggested they feel there are only a few cases where activism is appropriate, but that most of the time it is harmful to encourage people to activism. That any kind of activism that is directed toward any aspect of the church structure is satanic. That any concern expressed about the imperfections of church leaders, any disagreement with words or actions of church leaders is dangerous. And that it goes against the doctrine of Christ.

There have also been recent actions to remove people from employment at church schools who some might even perceive to support awareness or concern about social justice issues. And there is no transparency in these actions, no due process for those impacted.

I don’t know what doctrine of Christ is supported by these destructive actions, or harmed by those who speak against it. This is contradictory to everything Christ taught. It goes against everything we as members of the church say we are.

As far as Satan goes, a core part of our narrative is that Satan supported a plan where we could not practice our agency, but we would be compelled to follow a specific path to salvation, no matter what. This sounds very much like a requirement for unquestioning loyalty to the men who hold church leadership positions, especially when the words and actions of those men are automatically equated with word and will of God.

Christ did not live a life devoted to building a church hierarchy. He sought and taught a path showing ways to see that the kingdom of God is within each of us. He called us to see that there is nothing more important for us to do in this life than to love one another, and that is how we would be known as His disciples, that we love one another. He practiced radical inclusion, showing mercy on a level that was incomprehensible even to his followers. He invited all, over and over again, to create an experience of heaven here and eternal life now, by learning to love and see each other as God loves and sees us. There was no line drawn in these words and actions at the edge of any church. He asked us each to carry this practice into all areas of our life. He was definitely an example of one who practiced and was shaped by the rituals and participations of church involvement, without falling into the temptation of idolizing church leaders or handing His agency over to them. He did not ignore the very human tendency for the leaders to become lazy leaders – ones who relied on their position and authority to wield influence and control, rather than doing the harder work of being examples of the Word. Christ reminded leaders of the scriptures they claimed to follow, and pointed it out when they weren’t.

And He asked us to follow Him.

Every aspect of of the church has been impacted by members who saw a need or had a concern, and then took action to address or communicate that concern to leaders and fellow members. Our history and current news is filled with accounts of how members impact the church and the world by following the inspiration and call of Christ to make a difference in the world, here and now. Our entire sacred works are full of accounts of members expressing concerns to leaders, and the ways those interactions shaped the church. I can’t imagine how the church would exist now if the priesthood ban had not been lifted in 1978. Our articles of faith call on us to be good citizens of the world and the church, and to seek all things honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all beings. This type of activism is needed in the world, and the church.

I do not practice activism in the same way in all areas of my life. My efforts in communicating concerns about issues to legislators are different from how I share personal experiences in church meetings. I am still trying to learn how to honor the spaces I am in, and constantly seeking inspiration and enlightenment in how to effectively participate in creating heaven here and eternal life now. I pray constantly for help in being willing to consider what I hadn’t considered before, to be open to new ways of seeing the world, and my fellow beings. I often fail, and try again. Never, in all my experience with activism, has God ever encouraged me to only advocate for those who are in need, or wounded, or cast out, or mourning, when it does not concern the church structure or church leaders. All of the needs that call me to activism are human needs, and the church is made of humans. My lifelong devotion to follow and practice living the Gospel of Christ in connection to the Church is deeply intertwined with what calls me to the activism that creates the experience of being seen, heard, loved, valued and included for all, especially the marginalized, as Christ did.

Jesus calls me, again and again, to be an activist. At all times and in all things and in all places.

And there are times when it just seems too hard. I can understand why so many will find any reason not to be involved. It still surprises me how quickly I am triggered to feel pain and betrayal from past actions by church leaders who seemed afraid that my activism made me unfit to serve and participate, and who abused their position to try to limit or control my service. At times, I am overwhelmed with doubt, wondering if anything is making a difference. And it is rare that a week goes by when I don’t hear someone question or criticize me for my continued activity within my church community, even when I honor any whose path is different. This is much like the criticism I hear from some concerning social and political actions, and from those who don’t see the point of being informed about issues, or why they should bother voting.

I recently saw this poem. It captures much of what calls me to stay engaged in my communities, trying to make a difference.

Voting As Fire Extinguisher

When the haunted house catches fire:
a moment of indecision.

The house was, after all, built on bones,
and blood, and bad intentions.

Everyone who enters the house feels
that overwhelming dread, the evil
that perhaps only fire can purge.

It’s tempting to just let it burn.

And then I remember:
there are children inside.

…by Kyle Tran Myhre

I keep thinking of children who are inside the communities which seem to be in flames. The communities of my country, my friends, my church. It is not clear to everyone that the house is on fire. Some are so afraid of fire, they refuse to see it, even as they do things that fan the flames. Even as those they claim to love are burning. After the horrible shooting in Colorado, I fear not only for the children inside who are burning, but also the children inside who are learning to set the fire.

Sometimes, I wonder if I am one of the children. And I just need to get away from the flames.

Often, Jesus is in the flames with me. Sometimes showing the way to help someone get out. Sometimes sitting with those of us who are hurting from the burns, listening to our pain, and sharing the burden of healing. And sometimes showing me how to quench the flames, and then create a new world from the ashes.

He calls me to follow Him into the holy work of activism.