Wake Up Call

Lately I have spent a lot of time thinking about the world. I don't know why, exactly, but it's been on my heart and I have been mulling it over a lot as I've been doing my personal reading and reflection. That led me to a startling thought a few weeks ago. That thought was this: America is a beautiful idea that no longer exists.

I know that might sound weird or harsh, but it's an idea I can't let go. The more I've reflected on it, the more I feel convicted that is true. That isn't to say, like some do, that I hate this country. I don't. And, on the whole, I think that America offers more opportunities and freedom than most. And in a world of imperfect systems of government, ours stacks up about as well as any.

But our system is broken, and it certainly isn't like the system imagined by our forefathers. Special interests, the sale of votes, in fighting, pork barrel spending, and the erosion of civil liberties offered by our current leaders are reminiscent of the kind of governmental and ideological oppression that led to the Declaration of Independence in the first place. And our land that was created with the noble idea of tolerance and freedom seems to have slowly eroded too. There's not a lot of tolerance to new ideas now. There is a certain kind of freedom of expression, but this isn't the open and inviting place we'd all like to believe it is.

We've often been called bullies lately. That's hard for me to accept, but the more I think about it the more I can see the validity in that statement. When I see films like "Sex in and the City 2" that celebrate America's life of excess while belittling other cultures, it's hard not to think that we've strayed far from the noble ideas and goals upon which this nation was founded.

So I say again, America is a beautiful idea that no longer exists. I think the sooner we realize that, the better we'll be equipped to do something about it.

And this isn't a new idea. Back in the late 1990s, near the end of Bill Clinton's term as President when he was mired in scandal, Jay Leno famously poked fun at America's lack of faith in government on "The Tonight Show." He said, "Finally Americans have a president they can believe in." On the screen behind him appeared a picture of actor Martin Sheen in his role as President Josiah Bartlett on "The West Wing."

Now I don't know how you feel about "The West Wing," but what I always loved about it was the idealized version of the American political structure that it offered. I'm not talking about political stances on issues. Quite often I was in opposition to the stated positions of the administration depicted, but what I loved was the honest, passionate way in which they governed. I was convinced then and remain firmly convinced now that if we had a politician like that, regardless of party affiliation, we would all be able to rally around them.

In fact, I think that was part of what made Obama fever so exciting in the summer of 2008. His whole rise to the nomination and run for office was eerily reminiscent of the final season of "The West Wing" when an upstart congressman decided to run for president to bring real change and leadership to the government. Obama seemed to offer hope — at least that's what his legion of supporters thought. And he talked about real, honest change in a way that seemed to ring true.

500 days into his administration, it hasn't turned out the way anyone hoped. I would wager it hasn't even turned out the way he hoped. But isn't that how it is in this country now? I mean, I live in California, which has one of the most dysfunctional state governments in the country. And there is little in the upcoming election that portends change.

I was watching the movie "City Hall" recently and I was struck by an idea. I love the movie and think it probably too closely mirrors our political woes today. The film, released in 1996, follows the Mayor of New York City, played by Al Pacino, and his bright eyed, optimistic deputy mayor, played by John Cusack. Cusack believes in Pacino, believes he is a great man, a great and noble leader, and believes he can do great things to make America great once again.

Soon, an incident happens in which a criminal and cop exchange gunfire on the streets, and a six-year-old boy is caught in the crossfire. It leads to scandal and investigation. And in the middle of it all, the Mayor bravely attends the boy's funeral and offers the kind of inspirational and stirring speech you'd hope any great leader of men could offer. The speech goes like this:

"I was warned not to come here. I was warned. They warned me, "Don't stand behind that coffin." But why should I heed such a warning, when a heartbeat is silent and a child lies dead? "Don't stand behind" this coffin. That boy was as pure and as innocent as the driven snow. But I must stand here, because I have not given you what you should have. Until we can walk abroad and recreate ourselves; until we can stroll along the streets like boulevards; congregate in parks free from fear, our families mingling, our children laughing, our hearts joined - until that day we have no city. You can label me a failure until that day. The first and perhaps only great mayor was Greek. He was Pericles of Athens, and he lived some 2500 years ago, and he said, "All things good on this Earth flow into the City, because of the City's greatness." Well, we were great once. Can we not be great again? Now, I put that question to James Bone, and there's only silence. Yet could not something pass from this sweet youth to me? Could he not empower me to find in myself the strength to have the knowledge to summon up the courage to accomplish this seemingly insurmountable task of making a city livable? Just livable. There was a palace that was a city. It was a PALACE! It was a PALACE and it CAN BE A PALACE AGAIN! A PALACE, in which there is no king or queen, or dukes or earls or princes, but subjects all: subjects beholden to each other, to make a better place to live. Is that too much to ask?"

Pacino, delivering lines in the kind of powerful way only he can do, ends his speech by saying he chooses to fight back, and exhorting all in attendance, and in the city to do the same. At that point in time you feel like you're seeing a real, honest leader, the kind of man we all want to follow and the kind of man who can bring about the change he talks about.

Cusack's character believes that too. He idolizes the mayor and believes wholeheartedly in the man and the mission. But as he continues to look into the boy's death, he uncovers a conspiracy that includes crime, payoffs, political capital and power. The more he investigates, the less optimistic he becomes about the nature of man, politics, and the power of good to overcome. Finally, he discovers that at the heart of this conspiracy, at the heart of the tragic set of circumstances that led to the boy's death, there sits the mayor. The same mayor that offered that inspirational speech was willing to sell his virtue to curry favor with men of power, as all our public officials seem to do these days.

I had a sobering thought this time I saw the film though, and it is this: We are all John Cusack. The problem is we are all at different points along the path. Once we get to the end, we can either become jaded and indifferent, or we can think about ways we can make a difference. Cusack was disappointed, but that one incident didn't break his spirit.

I think we get the government and culture we deserve. Now that's not to say we deserve corruption and that should be our lot in life, by that I mean that if we don't stand up and say no, if we don't demand better then we end up with what we get.

But it starts at a more fundamental level than that. I have been reading a book by Donald Miller, and I continue to be moved and inspired by the way he thinks and writes about life and faith. In a chapter I was reading, he was talking about attending a political rally and realizing that there was something deeper that had to be addressed before any kind of rally could bring about change. The change starts from within. I think that hits the nail on the head.

We live in one of the most consumer driven cultures of all time. In the 1987 film "Wall Street" Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas) says, "he point is, ladies and gentleman, that greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right, greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Greed, in all of its forms; greed for life, for money, for love, knowledge has marked the upward surge of mankind."

It was meant to be a shocking representation of the consumer driven culture of greed that pervaded our country in the 1980s. People reacted to it as such, and you wouldn't probably hear someone today say "Greed is Good." But did we really change the underlying principles that spawned that statement? I don't think we did. We've just replaced the word greed with the idea of security, comfort, and meeting our needs. But is it really needs we're seeking to meet, or the wants that culture says we need? I think it's some of both.

We live in a time when the buying power of the average American has never been lower. Yet we're a society built on acquiring as much as we can as quickly as we can. That's the "American Dream" that seems to be being passed on to us today. Consider this — we are in the midst of one of the lowest economic periods in recent memory, yet we had a film released in 2009 ("Avatar") that made $2.7 billion at the Box Office. That doesn't happen because people went once, it happens because people went back a half dozen times.

It used to be that a film that made $100 million at the Box Office was a smash. Now, $100 is OK, but might not even make its money back. In California, we're in the midst of one of the worst economic climates ever, yet more than $100 million was spent on the primary campaign for Governor alone.

People crawl over each other to get the latest technical gadget, while non-profits struggle to keep up. Where are our priorities? And I say our because even though I've been thinking about this a lot lately I don't have any easy answers and I can't pretend to be better than anyone else.

I was recently thinking about Jesus interaction with the Rich Young Ruler. In Luke 18:18-23, the young man approaches Jesus and asks what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus talks about the commands, which the man claims to have kept. But Jesus knows he isn't yet there in his heart. He tells him, "You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." The man went away "sad" because he had great wealth. In other words, he wasn't ready to leave everything to follow Jesus.

I wonder, if Jesus were here today and posed that question to any of us, if we wouldn't react the same way. I remember my dad talking about packing up all of his stuff in his car and heading to college. Though I live alone, I'm pretty sure I would need a full-sized moving truck if I was going to take my stuff with me.

But it's even simpler than that. I started thinking about what my one most favorite possession is. I have a lot of things I like, but what is the one that I would grab if I could only save one thing. I realized it had to be my laptop. I've had it for a little over two years and it has become as big an extension of my person as my hand. I use it every day, it has all my important thoughts and writing and I can't imagine my life without it.

Then I thought about what Jesus said the Rich Young Ruler, and I put myself in his position and thought about giving up my computer to follow Jesus. That made the whole idea of consumerism and our faith more real to me. It was a sobering thought, and it's an exercise that I bet would do the same for most people.

Now I don't say that to shame anyone. I don't think that's the point. I think the point is that we all have work to do and God's grace is bigger than any of us can fathom. But I think it's also a subtle reminder that our consumer driven culture is effecting all our lives, and all aspects of our lives, whether we realize it or not.

I think this speaks volumes about the church in America. As I've been reflecting on faith, I've had some tough thoughts. I think the church has become far too inwardly focused. We've forgotten that Jesus spent most of his Earthly ministry reaching out to the lost, and there are plenty of lost out there today.

This hit home for me, again, while reading Miller. He talked about a friend who shared her conversion story. She said she had always felt that Christianity wasn't for her. She felt if Christianity were a person, he or she wouldn't like her very much because she was flawed. Then someone suggested she read the Book of Matthew. When she read it and read about Jesus' life, she was blown away. She liked Jesus and, more surprising to her, she thought that if Jesus met her he would like her too. That's when she realized that giving her life to Jesus was different than what she thought based on the Christians she had met. It was beautiful and heartbreaking to read at the same time.

I was kind of blown away recently when I read about countries like China, where Christianity is exploding, training missionaries to come reach the lost in America. It seemed weird, but then the more I thought about it the more I realized there is a HUGE need here. The gulf between the rich and poor has never been larger, and there are huge segments of the American population that have been disenfranchised. They are searching for answers and meaning, and that's the kind of soul nourishing that can only be found in Jesus Christ. We just have to find a way of getting the message to them.

I don't know what the answer is, but I know we need to be asking the question. It can be hard because the world's problems seem so vast, but I think the work really begins by looking at one heart at a time. When we all work on letting Christ's light shine through our own lives, then we can start lighting the flames of others. Imagine what we could do then.