Family Picture Overload

Work is busy these days, but we're managing to do some fun family things too. Here's a peak.
We love our yard. These orchids are in full bloom right now.

 Some serious crafting.

I found this one morning last week and it made my heart smile. Justice had all of our toothbrushes ready when breakfast was over.

 Halloween. Justice wanted to be a Christmas Present. And Micah is happy in any dress-up clothes.

 Building Daddy's birthday present one slow day at a time.

 Target's 90% off post-halloween sale!

 Beach time. Justice is learning to swim and it is so beautiful.

 The hard work of cleaning the pack n play when you draw on it with a marker.

 A BEAUTIFUL sculpture we WON at a recent fundraising event we attended for The Pregnancy Center in Kona. The sculpture is called Keiki Honu, and it is easily the most beautiful non-living thing in our home.

 Lots of blocks these days, with both kiddos.

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Learning how to Talk about God

I had the opportunity, with a little help from family and friends, to join the Point Loma Center for Pastoral Leadership “Holy Conversations” event the last weekend of Oct. I was excited to interact with a few people I know – but have never met – and join a conversation that highlighted two things: generational perspectives on our place within the denomination (with an emphasis on the millennial generation); and our changing understanding of holiness and the church. And perhaps I will share a few thoughts from this event at another time.

But the story I want to share did not happen during this event, but rather on the way to it. I’ve been teaching a class on “Declaring the Gospel of God” for those called into ministry from our church. I’ve tried to teach this class with an eye toward the every day. The way we eat, practice justice, talk with our neighbors, show compassion, organize our daily routine, worship, and pray are all ways that Christians declare the Good News of God. In short, declaring the gospel of God is an everyday practice that involves the very mundane acts of life. And Christians practice these things publicly, for the world to see (what we call ‘witness’). But I should add, we share about God’s work in our life, putting words to our faith, not to persuade others, but because we can’t speak the truth of our own life without talking about God. As Thomas Long puts it:

At the most profound level, Christians talk about faith because it is a truly human act to want to tell the truth…Christians believe that we cannot tell the truth, not the whole truth, without talking about God, and if we cannot tell the whole truth, we cannot be fully alive as human beings.

Christians talk about God because we can’t talk about ourselves without talking about God. So here’s an example. I was staying at a hotel downtown and thought that I’d save money by taking the bus. Except my plans were disrupted from a missed flight in San Francisco which put me in my hotel room in San Diego just before 1am. I woke up at 4am Hawaii Time (7am in California) in order to get ready on time. I was tired, running late, and wasn’t interested in learning to navigate a new public transit system. So, I hailed a cab. 

A tall slender man welcomed me into his world. And while I couldn’t make out exactly where his accent was from, I knew it wasn’t from San Diego. So I asked where he was from, and he told me Ohio (I was also certain his original home was not Ohio). We made small talk. I told him I was a pastor visiting an event planned by Point Loma Nazarene. He said I looked too young to be a pastor (I get that a fair amount). And then we arrived at my destination. I hadn’t asked him his name yet. I was actually hoping to finish browsing through the morning's news and relevant Facebook posts on the cab ride; so I introduced myself, shook hands, and got his name: Kareem.

I figured I would end up meeting someone at the event who could come the next morning to pick me up. I assumed I would not meet Kareem again, but I was thankful that I was able to contribute to a local person and profession that often has a hard time making ends meet. 

Well, apparently no one lives close to downtown and my plans for a ride were thwarted. And when I checked out the next morning for the last day of the event, Kareem was sitting in his cab outside my hotel. So I waved, opened the door, and said, “Good Morning Kareem.” A smile slowly stretched across his face. He called me John. After re-introducing myself, we began a nice a little conversation about halloween. About halfway through our short cab ride, Kareem made a simple statement:

“World is full of problems, isn’t it?"

Now, I’m not sure why he decided to say this. Maybe people intuit that pastors are especially aware of the world’s brokenness. Hopefully, people see how pastors draw close to people in times of suffering or grief. For whatever reason, Kareem decided to slightly steer the conversation in this direction.

“It sure is Kareem. Just this morning I read about an eight month old baby killed by the Israeli Defense Force by tear gas inhalation."

“Eight months old? That’s bad. That’s really bad. You know, in Islam we believe that God will bring judgment to this world."

And there it was. Simple. Everyday conversations can sometimes naturally flow in and out of a persons belief system. And that’s how it should be. Talking about God should be the easiest thing we do. But it should be noted, it’s not just Christians. Billions of people integrate a life of faith with life itself, where there exists no separation between one’s spiritual life and everything else. And, as a true Wesleyan, I believe God’s grace is present everywhere as we learn to be attuned to where God is already working. And when we learn to see God’s grace outside of the boundaries the church is notorious for constructing, sharing God’s life flows abundantly. 

“Kareem, Christians also believe that God’s judgment will come. For us, God grieves when people suffer – that suffering, pain, and hurt are not God’s will. And we see this as good news. There will come a day when God heals the world’s problems.” Kareem smiled a simple smile of recognition, perhaps even kinship. 

That’s all I said. We arrived at our destination. I asked him where he was from, and he told me Somalia. He asked if I had ever been to Africa. I was in Egypt five years ago. He knew that was close to the Egyptian Revolution and inquired about the timing of my visit and why I was there. So I was able to share that I was only there for a few days about 6 months before the Egyptian Revolution but I actually spent most my time in Palestine as a Christian peacemaker. 

I paid. We shook hands, and said goodbye. 

I like these holy conversations.

A New Reality, a Sad GoodBye

Many of you know that we moved to Kona two years ago after receiving a call from Pastor Ryan Fasani, a friend whom Eric had worked with in Nashville, TN. We didn't move to Kona for the Fasani's or apart from discerning God's direction for us, but knowing the Fasani family, their similar convictions as Christians, and our common hope for the church made moving a lot easier. Justice had instant friendships with Chenoah and Ahanu, and Eric had a theological dialogue partner and co-conspirator for living this radical thing we call the Gospel. We had anticipated this relationship to not only ground us in Kona for the long term, but also provide the germination of a community of disciples committed to one another in grace, love, and practice.

About three weeks before we left for furlough, Pastor Ryan resigned as Pastor of Kona Coast Nazarene. The Fasanis chose to leave Kona to focus on their health as a family, and we continue to pray for them and KCN even in their absence.

But their absence is difficult for us. We have given in at times to fits of anger, overwhelming sadness, spontaneous tears, and all out weeping. We are at times confused, and wrestle with guilt at whether we contributed at all to this outcome. In short, the past summer has been a summer of grief. We are grieving the loss of close family friends; grieving that Justice won't be able to celebrate birthdays with Chenoah; grieving that we can't surf with Katahdin or play soccer with Ahanu; grieving the loss of such a close theological brother, and certainly grieving what could have been with Mission Kona Coast under Ryan's leadership.

Many have asked whether we will step in as Pastors of Kona Coast Nazarene. This is a legitimate question, as both of us are ordained elders in the Church of the Nazarene and have intimate knowledge and experience of our Mission and Vision for our mission zone and the broader Kona Coast.

The short answer is, No. We do not currently feel God leading us to assume the full responsibilities of Pastor. We very much feel that God is using us in our current role as Missionaries, afforded us the freedom to follow and pursue relationships in the community, and continue the work we have already begun in training local leaders for the future of the church on the Big Island. While our work connects deeply with the life of KCN, it is not dependent upon the lead pastor. Our work and ministry will continue, with your continued prayers and support, in the Mission Zone of North Kona.

Many have also asked about the future of Mission: Kona Coast. The truth is that we just don't know. Our District Superintendent, alongside our board, is going through the process of calling a new pastor. We hope and pray that he/she will have the gifts and passions that fit well into our unique culture and mission here in Kona. We know that the transition will bring changes, but we also trust that the work and culture the Fasanis began will continue through the discernment process for a new pastor.

Please keep us and our church ohana in your prayers as we commit to the health of our community during this transition. Mahalo.

Home

We're home!

As Eric mentioned, furlough was hard. Many missionaries we know choose to have a longer "home assignment" of 5-6 months.  We have lived in Hawaii for two years, and this was our first trip back to the mainland as a family. Our trip was five weeks, and we packed that month full. We flew over 9,000 miles and drove another 4,000 miles. Our travel days were long (and frequent), and our two littlest travelers found it hard to be strapped to a seat day in and day out. They met more people than they wanted to (about week 2, Justice said, "I can't remember any more names") and missed home like crazy. We spoke to 20 groups and over a thousand people.

But furlough was good. Life-giving, restorative, and encouraging. We told stories of how God is working, where God is leading, and transformation we are witnessing. We met with other missionaries and church planters. We shared our struggles. We were honest about the work God is doing in our own home. We shared our hope for the future.

We were met with loving and caring individuals. People who are praying for us daily. People who can relate, and people who can't. People who have advice, and people who want to hear more. People who were encouraged to hear and see God's movement. People who were challenged by God's call in their present location. People who want to be a missionary-people in their communities. We are so encouraged by the conversations that began.

And in the midst of that, we visited with our families. We were blessed to see the relationships between our kids and our parents come to life. Relationships we've fostered over FaceTime and Skype, but didn't know what they would look like in person. We were grateful for our kids to play with their cousins, and their aunt/uncles. And we were giddy to hug our own brothers/sisters.

Furlough Update: Ministry Scholarships

Our family left Kona on June 23. We're now in our fifth week of traveling, sharing the Good News of what God is doing in Kona. And, in complete honesty, it's been so hard! This is our first trip back to the mainland since moving to Hawaii two years ago. Micah was born in Hawaii, and is only 18 months old. Justice is a child of routine and rhythms and does well if those lay undisturbed. Well, furlough disturbs every routine. And we are excited about returning to Kona next week. 

Furlough is a time for us to reconnect with family and friends, share our story with our supporters, and fundraise for years 3 and 4 of ministry. We've been sharing how God is raising up local leaders to lead the church in Hawaii. We believe that the work God is doing is going to be continued by those who have grown up in Hawaii, who can connect and guide other locals into God's story of redemption. We've been sharing about our work to re-imagine a culturally appropriate model of training local pastors in an oral culture and that we've started teaching classes this past January. We have 4 people from our congregation discerning a call into ministry. This is Good News!

But we are at a disadvantage because of our geographical isolation. All the pastor fellowships, continuing education, District retreats, and District Assemblies take place on a different island. These are valuable times of gathering for pastors to be inspired, to learn, to form needed relationships/friendships, and to stave off isolation. We want our ministry students to experience at least one of these gatherings each year as they work toward ordination.

This is why we are fundraising in part to offer 'scholarships' for each ministry student that would cover various resources and travel expenses to aid in their development and discipleship. We have 5 scholarships set at $370 a piece. If you are interested in sponsoring one (or more) of these scholarships, let us know! We'd love to talk to you and share a little bit more. Scholarships will still be funneled through the "North/Central Kona Mission" account fund at www.easytithe.com/kcn. Thank you for your continued support!

Polima Lopez's Testimony

Each month, I (Eric) gather with a group of people discerning a call into ministry to teach a course on "Declaring the Gospel of God." The class focuses on uniting Biblical story-telling with personal narrative; learning to share how our story falls into the scope of God’s story of redemption and communion. I must say, this is one of my favorite parts of the month. Never have I gathered with people who are so interested to learn, compelled to share, and eager to question. It's incredibly refreshing, and I am quite simply blessed to be leading this small cohort. 

The class represents the beginning of an answer to prayer. Namely, we have been praying for God to call local leaders to guide the church into the future. For a church that has, in the last 40 years, never planted a church or had someone carry through to vocational ministry, and now to have 5 in the last year speak of their call to ministry points only to God's grace beginning to move. Praise God!

Once a month, we clear space for these students to share their Testimony. This past week, Polima Lopez, our worship minister and a second generation Samoan-American, shared her story during the sermon moment. I wanted to share a little of that story with you: 

The fact that I'm standing in front of you today should be testimony enough. I would not have been able to stand here three years ago, but only by the grace of God. Many of you already know some of my struggles. A couple of years ago I believed the convictions of what others said about me, but now I understand that I am a daughter of God. All of the stories growing up wanted to claim me. I didn't know who I was, and so I struggled with my identity. I am a Samoan who grew up in Hawaii. American culture conflicts with being Samoan. The way we talk, our customs, our food, our language is different. And on top of that, my Dad is a Pastor, and so you can throw in religion too. These cultures clash and I was confused. I didn't know how I was supposed to think or act. I grew up thinking I was wrong. But I stand before you now to say, like Paul in Ephesians, that the old is gone and the new has come. I've been through a lot, searching for who I am and I've come to know this: God's grace embraces me, and I'm now able to embrace it.

I think this is a beautiful testimony; It is Limah's story of how God's grace has connected with her – changed her. We all struggle with Identity. We are all shaped by a multiplicity of stories that shape us. I can't connect with being Samoan, but I can connect with the cultural clash between growing up in American culture and my identity as a Christian. I inherit a story from my family: I grew up in Richmond, VA, a middle child of two white conservative evangelical parents. In this simple sentence recounting my past, you can begin to understand a little bit of my story…There’s the story of political allegiance, my parents were conservative, attached to the Republican party. I grew up in the South, which produces pictures of tobacco and cotton fields, deciduous trees, and southern comfort food (sausage and gravy). And I inherited a particular religious story: an evangelical faith. Each of these are various stories that interact and play with one another to form a confusing and muddled story that is my life. I have begun to understand how each has shaped me, though I have struggled with which defines me.

Each of us at some point choose whether to trust these stories that shape who we are, or whether to trust a different story, a story marked by the cross and resurrection. When we choose to trust a different story, to allow our life, the stories we’ve inherited, to be shaped by the story of Jesus found in Scripture and the Church, we call it faith. And we believe that those stories are worth telling. 

This past Sunday was Pentecost Sunday. Pentecost is the day that the church remembers the gift of the Spirit that remains with us. It is the day that all the people of Jerusalem stood in confusion hearing their own language from Galileans. In a way, Christ's presence through the Spirit indeed confuses. It ought to confuse and confound our identity so that we may come to a posture that Limah has embraced, God's grace for us, a beloved of God. Emmanuel Katongole puts it like this:

"Christian faith is fundamentally about identity – who we are as embodied people. In Africa as in America, there is a multitude of powers and stories that try to define who we are: the color of our skin, the nation of our birth, the history of our culture, or the characteristics of our tribe. But when I baptize someone into the church of Jesus Christ, I see that God is making a claim on their bodies. Are they still black? Are they still white? Are they still Rwandan? Are they still American? Perhaps. But there is a real sense in which our identity gets confused (mixed up) with Christ's identity in baptism. Who we are becomes (or at least ought to become) confused and confusing to others." 

May the work of Spirit continue to un-confuse our past identity, placing us safely in the identity of Christ, so that Christ in us may continue to confuse all other identities. 

Parenting is Hard

We love the little bodies in our house. Our days are filled with so much laughter, questioning, repeat answers, and a few tears. We love the little boy Micah is becoming, and can't help but laugh when he tours the house looking for the best surface to hammer. He climbs, and falls, and races, and explores without abandon. We marvel at Justice's logic, her questioning, her observation of the world and how the pieces work together. She is so verbal. It's exciting, and so, so tiring.

We end our days grateful, certainly blessed, and always exhausted. This little boy likes to throw things, and break things, and run into the street to get a better look at the construction trucks. He sticks his hands straight into a pile of manure, and then throws it.

And this sweet girl. She challenges us. She tests the boundaries and negotiates further. She is a giant ball of emotion; of gladness and excitement, of disappointment and anger. She loves nature. She loves creation. She loves people.

Parenting is hard. But also rewarding. And definitely messy.

Our First Trip to the Mainland!

The last couple of months, we have been trying to confirm and plan our first Furlough trip for this summer. We are in a unique situation as missionaries on the Kona Coast. While we are bi-vocational, and receive a housing allowance from the church, it is still absolutely necessary to raise support (like most missionaries) in order to do the work God has called us to do in one of the highest cost of living locations in the country. We are so grateful for every one who has connected to our story and work, and furlough is a great opportunity for us to share (in person) all that God is doing and continues to do in Kona. Needless to say, we're really excited to see you and wanted to share where we will be speaking.

Furlough Schedule

June 27-28: Chicago/Bourbonnais area (Place TBD)

July 4-5: Southside Church of the Nazarene; Richmond, VA

July 12: First Church of the Nazarene; Nashville, TN

July 19: Hasting Church of the Nazarene; Hastings, MI


While we have scheduled several churches for Sunday mornings, we are hoping to gather with several smaller groups during the week or weekends for more personal engagements for us to share our story with you; and also to celebrate what God is doing in your life and the life of your community. If this is something you're interested in hosting, please let us know!

We'll be sharing more in the near future – both about furlough and ministry updates/stories – but for now, we are excited that furlough will be a time for us to connect with you, perhaps rest a bit, and see family (some of whom have never met Micah). See you soon!

Ordination Testimony

Joy and I just returned from District Assembly where I (Eric) was ordained as an Elder in the Nazarene Church. I was blessed to have Joy kneeling with me and Pastor Ryan Fasani praying a blessing over me. I was asked to write a brief, one page, testimony for the ordination service this past Wednesday night. It was not used during the service, so I thought I would post it here for anyone interested. Enjoy!

Ordination Testimony

Eric Paul

April 8, 2015

I received a call to ministry at a young age. My grandparents were Missionaries on a Navajo Reservation in New Mexico. Grandpa was a giant in the community, not only standing taller than most, but respected as one who had, for years, given himself away wholeheartedly to the people and community who desperately needed life and hope. It's amazing the kind of work that can be done when you step out of the way for the sake of another. He died when I was ten years old. A month later, my call to be a missionary was confirmed and I was baptized. 

While the direction of my life was known, I had no clue how this story would be told; where I would serve or even in what role. Pastor? Missionary? Teacher? Something altogether different? While in school I became convinced that God's call is always a call to discipleship first. Like Peter at the water's edge, Jesus calls and because it is Jesus and no one else, I follow. All of life is directed toward this person and is formed by that life. The life of a disciple is a life on the way to discovering the Kingdom of God all around us. To walk and pray Heaven on earth. And Jesus' path seemed to always point toward the edge of society, to the fringes, to the poor and powerless, to those abused, left-out, and forgotten. Jesus' life tells us that the Kingdom of God is found there and with those people. And so, I understood a part of my call would be a constant seeking of the Kingdom of God on the margins. 

Phineas Bresee understood this downward movement of the disciple when he said, "Our church is a missionary church. It knows no difference between home and foreign fields- for all fields are near." And when I read these words from our founder Bresee, I knew that there still might be a place for me within the Nazarene Church: "The Gospel comes to a multitude without money and without price, and the poorest of the poor are entitled to a front seat at the Church of the Nazarene." 

Christ's love meets us all uniquely. I struggled with the church for many years, even as a Pastoral Ministry major at Olivet. In a way, all pastors should. There's a marked difference between what God desires for us to be and do and the modern state of the church. I walked through church doors, looked around, and didn't see Jesus. When I saw the church, I couldn't tell the difference between Christians and the rest of the world. It seemed self serving, existing for its own sake rather than for God's mission in world. We were just as violent, power hungry, and greedy; only we hid under an umbrella of grace while not allowing that grace to teach us a different way. 

And yet, Christ's love would meet me. It would meet me in the steadfast commitment of my wife, who ironically was on staff at a church. And soon after, Christ's love would meet in the face of the poor of Nashville, who I witnessed struggle for life and yet taught me so much about faith and dependence. Christ's nonviolent love met me in the streets of Palestine, where I saw Palestinian Christians opposing racism and violence in midst of state oppression. And in all these places, there was a steadfast commitment to the church. It seems to me that God created the church to be different, to be holy, to show the world a different way to live altogether. And then I realized that Jesus' proclamation of the Kingdom of God doesn't make sense without a people who gather around that message. And it's these people, the gathered we call the church, who are participating to bring about something entirely and utterly new to our communities. And I want to be a part of that newness.

Ordination is my commitment to the pursuit of the Kingdom of God through the Church of the Nazarene. It is the answering to a call, and it is not everyone's call. But it is mine. So, I'm thrilled that my story has brought me to this moment, and under the recognition and affirmation of my calling and gifts in and for the community. So, I ask for your continued prayers and support as we all learn to give ourselves away to those around us.

Lessons in Culture and Discrimination

I (Eric) participate every month in a gathering of social service agencies and community members to discuss community relationships and needs. It's a cooperative group that intends to communicate openly about community issues and work together for a more healthy Kona. This video was passed on to all members, and we thought it appropriate to post it to the blog. We think this conveys well the kind of discrimination that takes place on the islands toward a particular minority group. I work every Wednesday in a gardening project with friends from the Marshall Islands. We know there is some foul language, but the point of the video is important enough to post.

Renovating Holiness Essay

Last year, Pastor Ryan and I submitted an essay for the new book Renovating Holiness that explores a younger generation's understanding and experience with holiness and sanctification. Below is the essay that was published. It is at times more theologically driven this most of our blog posts. You can check out the book here.

“Holiness Now: Resurrection and Shalom on the Big Island”

Ryan Fasani and Eric Paul

Hanu (hah-noo), an unwed mother of two young children, is a ‘local’ here—she’s of Polynesian descent, grew up in Hawaii, and considers the culture of the Big Island normative. Hanu conceived her first child as a teenager.  Under the pressures of motherhood, part-time employment, living in a multigenerational home, and being single, she chose to complete a GED rather than high school. Her current boyfriend (and father of her second child) works for a hotel when not serving scheduled, three-month stints in jail. Cost of living here is beyond their means and they suffer from health complications and family dysfunction. We have found Hanu’s story very common.  As pastors on the Big Island of Hawaii, we ask: What does holiness look like for Hanu?  

The doctrine of holiness is the church's articulation of Christ’s life being enacted, through the power of grace, in the world.  The life of holiness is the embodiment of that truth.  However, our observation is that the doctrine has largely ignored the Christ who came preaching the Shalom Community as the Kingdom of God, and thus has not been helpful for realizing embodied holiness.  We contend that holiness is the embodiment of Shalom in a particular place with particular people—where Christ’s life has become our own.  Consequently, holiness is both contextual (to a particular place) and communal (to a particular people).  We find it helpful to use the biblical vision of the Shalom Community (Micah 4) to understand embodied holiness, which is to say that the biblical vision of a particularly placed people will help us better understand how we ought to envision holiness for Hanu here and now—in our community. 

Hanu and the Holiness of Our Past

Holiness has been taught as a moment of entire sanctification rendered by the grace of God in an individual's heart.  Nazarene understanding of where sanctification occurs is indicative of where we locate sin: in the heart of the individual. This is why the adage “justification is what God does for us, sanctification is what God does in us” is so fitting. Sin is rooted in the human heart, and therefore, sanctification also takes root in the human heart. Unfortunately, with this understanding, holiness can only be understood in contrast to an individual’s (non-communal) breech of (non-contextualized) faithfulness.

In this way, the Nazarene church has focused on Hanu and her boyfriend’s litany of personal sins: premarital intercourse, criminal activity, poor financial stewardship. The Good News for Hanu, from this perspective, is that God forgives and can do a sanctifying work in her.  The bad news is that it leaves unaddressed a majority of Hanu’s life and therefore a majority of the healing God desires.

The scriptures are clear that God alone is a holy, self-giving God, and desires to sanctify Hanu's whole realm of existence (Colossians 1). Locating sin and sanctification in the heart of the individual certainly offers the potential for a narrow “inner cleansing” but it ignores the totality of God’s desire for reconciliation, which includes the breeding ground of Hanu’s sin. We simply cannot separate the experience of holiness from all that is implicated in the holy self-giving of God.  We contend that this self-giving and the Kingdom preached by Christ are all-encompassing—implicating the complex web of relationships and influences in Hanu’s life. Where Hanu lives, her social and familial network, and the cultural structures that govern her life are all environments of influence and sinfulness.  Sanctification, then, must be dislodged from the very limited locale of the heart so that it can be realized as broadly as God desires.

But Hanu’s life (and sinfulness) is unlike anyone else’s. So too should sanctification be unique to her experience.  Sanctification must be conceived broadly enough to included Hanu’s whole sphere experience and particular enough to be realized in her immediate, unique context. Hanu’s story teaches us that holiness is necessarily both communal and contextual.

The Shalom Community of Micah 4

Holiness, far from only being the state of a believer’s heart, is God’s move to restore the intricate web of relationships—personal, social, political, economic, etc.—in which we all participate. But if God is actively restoring these relationships, then we must be able to speak in terms of restoring concrete interpersonal, socio-political and even economic relationships. Inversely, we must speak of the brokenness-needing-healing in each of those relational arenas. We must speak of communal brokenness, and the communal context of restoration.  Scripture is ripe with such articulation.  Take for example Micah 4:

In days to come…

²   many nations shall come and say:

‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,

   to the house of the God of Jacob;

that he may teach us his ways

   and that we may walk in his paths...’

³ He shall judge between many peoples,

   and shall arbitrate between strong nations far away;

they shall beat their swords into ploughshares,

   and their spears into pruning-hooks;

nation shall not lift up sword against nation,

   neither shall they learn war any more; 

⁴ but they shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees,

   and no one shall make them afraid;

   for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken. (Micah 4).

In general, the prophets proclaim words of disaster and optimism, grief and comfort, apocalyptic end and future hope. But they refuse to divorce “spiritual health” from the totality of health in communities. When we read and engage prophetic literature, we must read it through a totalizing “lens of life”: no aspect of the human experience is excluded from the blessings and ultimate judgment of God.  As such, three important aspects of Shalom are apparent in this prophetic vision.

First, this is a religious text.  God, judgment, and a divine voice along with particular references to “the God of Jacob” and “Lord of hosts” are all clear references to a religious tradition known as Israel.  But the vision itself is hardly “religious,” as if religion were a sector of life distinct from economy or politics.  Instead, God’s restoration is concrete and practical, a matter of worship and work.

Second, Micah gives us a broad picture of what the Kingdom will look like and it’s not only the restoration of individuals.  The restoration encompasses individual estrangement from creation, poverty, starvation, and violence.  God’s sanctifying power reaches into every facet of communal existence.

Third, the prophetic vision is a universal hope but not a universal reference.  In other words, the particularities of a this-world, communal context are evident.  Though there are references to “nations far away” and “many peoples”, the peaceful community envisioned is not like every community—it is a particularly placed people.  They are familiar with an agrarian lifestyle (“ploughshares”), which is to say they are not nomadic and make a living through cultivating soil.  They have a history of combat and wield a particular arsenal of weapons (“swords and spears”).  Among them are orchardists (requiring “pruning-forks”) and vintners or winemakers (“sitting under their vines”).  They may have a history of being the underdog, likely a reference to their small size (“strong nations far away….make[ing] them afraid”).  We get the image of an agrarian community with a non-aggressive foreign policy or expansion tactic, relieved to finally put up their weapons to more fully invest in peaceful and satisfying pursuits of stewarding creation.  

The holiness vision of Micah 4 is not limited to God’s sanctification of the human heart; instead it is a holy restoration of all the complex facets of a particular community, in and between the concrete lives of neighbors in a particular place.  Holiness is communal. Holiness is contextual.   

Holiness Now

So how does Micah 4 help us understand sanctification for Hanu? Micah clearly understood the distinctions of the envisioned community.  In order to envision redemption and sanctification, we need to know that which is broken (needing healing) and unholy (needing to be sanctified).  We can start, then, by better understanding unique brokenness and sin in Hanu’s context.   

Many of Hanu’s relationships are strained or broken, creating immense stress, anxiety, and fear.  The consistency necessary for marital health is abruptly interrupted every few months when her husband is in jail—vacillating between single parenthood and dual parenthood.  Her living environment is not conducive to conflict resolution because of the proximity to multiple adult family members. Discussions often turn to arguments, arguments to abuse.  And each sphere of relationship is negatively affected by her material poverty. 

She also suffers from multiple socio-political systems in Hawaii that have failed: a food system that promotes disease and unhealthy bodies, a punitive criminal system that dismembers families, an education system that cannot accommodate unique family needs, an economic system that exacerbates poverty, a governmental aid system that serves as a disincentive to gainful employment, and a cultural system that is often ethnically oppressive.

As we learn more about the complexity of Hanu’s brokenness, we begin to see multiple interlocking spheres.  When one sphere is stressed or broken, the pain (or sin) reverberates into all other spheres. We believe that God cares and longs to restore the brokenness in each of these interrelated spheres so that Life and sanctification may be fully expressed.

The question of holiness could be posed thusly: what if these relationships could be healed?  We contend that this is the abundant, shalom life that God desires.  When we abandon the belief that sanctification addresses the sinful heart alone and begin to believe that the self-giving holy God that we worship desires the complexity of our existence to heal and be made new, then we begin to harness the imagination of Micah and the Shalom Community.  Sin, we believe, is a “heart issue” and a “systems issue” and a “relationship issue” (Ephesians 2), thereby making sanctification holistically relevant and necessary.  

For years, the local church created specific programs to heal suffering in each sphere (i.e. food pantry or ESL classes).  But, in Hanu’s case, her experience and suffering from sin is unique to her context, rendering generic programs partially effective at best.  Because Hanu’s sin is both internal and systemic, she suffers from a web of brokenness, rendering charitable, one-dimensional solutions too narrow and mostly unhelpful.  The only “solution” we can imagine for Hanu’s convolution of sin is the slow and gentle inclusion into a worshipping body that takes seriously God’s call to Life and holiness in every facet of existence. 

As is the case in Micah 4, only a self-giving community bent toward holiness can envision and ultimately realize holiness for Hanu’s broken context.  Only a community of shalom can realize a radically different (set apart, holy) way of life together—from the way we consume and clothe ourselves to how we interact with the broader market economy, from the way we nurse our babies to the way we adopt unwanted children, from the way we embrace a diversity of cultures to the way we worship one God, from the way we use our ploughshares for farming to the refusal to bear arms. These are part of the Shalom Community—these are all part of Hanu’s sanctification. We find that we can not talk of Hanu’s holiness apart from the holiness of the community in which she lives. Imagining and enacting such a community contextualizes Hanu’s life while caring for both individual and communal growth in Christ.