“Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.” Philippians . 2: 9-13

My father-in-law, who passed away at the age of 93 six years ago, lived with a global consciousness. He and his wife traveled to several continents out of an eagerness to experience new cultures, visited an Indigenous community in Canada’s far north to learn their story, and worked at cultivating relationships with people from all over the world in their home community. The long-term care home where he spent his final 6 years was staffed by folks from every tribe, people, nation and language, and he loved it. In his many conversations with staff, he regularly made comments that were kind, encouraging and politically incorrect.

I mentioned this to a CRC colleague, and he responded with, “I’m sure you can coach him toward becoming politically correct.” That was all he said.

I didn’t respond, but I was furious. In my view, he was judgmental, not curious. 

Years ago I was at a meeting with ten CRC folks from all over the US and Canada, reflecting on denominational ministry. A Latino pastor told this story: “I received a phone call from the CRC head office, and a staffer there offered me an all expenses paid trip to Washington DC to participate in an anti-racism rally. I was offended. My little church can’t pay its bills, has many families who use foodbanks every week and live in immigration limbo, and you’re offering me $2K to attend a rally?” 

Yes I know, both of these stories embody realities that are more complex than this short post can handle well. But they also embody a simple reality that, for me, becomes an elephant in the room. 

A pattern I have experienced from some Christian leaders passionate about social justice is something I will call “epistemological imperialism (EI).” It goes like this: “We have studied a great deal about justice, we learned paradigms and models that serve to analyze and correct injustice, we know what’s best and we will tell you what is best for you.” It’s a “top-down” model of seeking justice. I have a deep love for sound scholarship, but not for EI. 

The Philippians 2 passage excerpted above uses a very different approach. First, it asserts the primacy of Jesus Christ over every molecule in the universe. Perhaps you know the rest of this hymn, as it describes the Jesus pilgrimage from leaving the Father’s throne, becoming a slave who is obedient unto death, and then exalted above all. 

And then something utterly bizarre happens: you would think the one who is the most exalted figure in the entire universe would tell us what to do, and we would respond in humble obedience, thinking, “This is what top-down leadership truly looks like.”

But no! Just as he became a slave, so now Jesus has humbled himself again and lives within and among us, as if to say, “You work out the details. It’ll be scary but I am with you. Don’t rely on simple recipes and lists of rules. I, the Lord of the universe, work from the bottom up, so work with me in that posture. You are not alone.” It’s a posture of epistemological humility, and a posture that is thoroughly contextual. What I work out in my context will not be the same as what you work out in your context. 

That’s what my father-in-law did. And that’s my desire as well, as I stumble and stammer my way through the messes of injustice all around us. I pray for the grace and wisdom needed to keep on working it out with fear and trembling.