Back in 1955, during the Cold War, an actress known as “the Queen of the Cowgirls,” composed a simple little song recommending qualities the church has long described with the lofty term: “The Theological Virtues.” Dale Evans’s song said, “Have faith, hope, and charity.
That's the way to live successfully. How do I know? The Bible tells me so.”
It’s not a deep song. It doesn’t even define living “successfully.” Though from a subsequent verse we might infer successful living means pleasing God; nothing suggests it means getting rich, having the latest gadget, getting a long-sought promotion. Despite her show business successes, Evans, best known as Roy Rogers’s wife (if you have to look him up, you’re really young), had not escaped pain and loss, yet that didn’t keep her from seeing what is important. But, lest I digress, I’ll move on to a more relevant analysis of this bit of poetry, written when poems still rhymed.
Relevant because it talks about virtues we could well use today.
FAITH.
Our faith seems to be at a low ebb. We’ve lost faith in our leaders, lost faith in our institutions; and some, it seems, have even lost faith in God. I get it. Over the past few years, I have been disheartened over the number of pastors and church leaders who have fawned over a man whose attitudes and behaviors would have once inspired jeremiads. Some even argued that opposing this man was as good as being in league with Satan!
Then I think about Elijah, the Old Testament prophet who also tried to communicate with people committed to a leader whose morals had long been jettisoned. Elijah preached to people who didn’t listen, people who had forgotten their own history and heritage. Perhaps he hadn’t lost his faith, but he seemed ready to turn in his notice as a prophet. Frustrated and convinced he alone had remained faithful; Elijah saw no reason to go on living. At this point, God said to Elijah, “Just a minute there, Sunshine, there are lots of good folks who haven’t gone over to the dark side.” (Ok, that’s a bit of a paraphrase.)
If your faith is wavering, maybe you need to broaden your social horizon. Maybe you need to listen to other people than those who continually sing songs of doom and gloom. Maybe you have Facebook “friends” you need to block for thirty days—maybe indefinitely. Maybe you need to expand your reading habits. Read a biography about some man or woman who triumphed over tough times. If you’ve decided it’s safe to go back to church, take a serious listen to what the pulpit is saying—do the sermons build your faith or do they inspire despair? (This is not an invitation to criticize your pastor; it’s just a reminder that pastors, too, are subject to the general malaise so prevalent right now.) In time, some of us may have to make hard decision about the kind of churches we will support. (Again, I digress.) The point is, nourish your faith; don’t starve it.
Above all perform the exercise that builds faith: Reflect on the blessings God has bestowed on your life and those you know, even as the pandemic impacts our lives.
HOPE.
Hope also seems to be in short supply. It absence may be heard in the words of those who simply say, “I don’t think we will ever get back to normal.” Or in the weary observation of the one who nervously comments, “I’m afraid we are on the verge of another civil war.” And, I can’t help but wonder if some who insist the 2020 election was “stolen” take that position because they saw one man—flawed though he might be—as the key to the future they long for, a future where their beliefs are not mocked, their moral sensibilities are not assaulted, their nation is still respected around the world. In short, this man was their hope.
Rather than put our hope in those who demand our attention by their bluster, maybe we should look for hope in incidents that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. My friend Tom called my attention to a group of Marine “body bearers” (a unit assigned to help during funerals at Arlington cemetery) who, after serving at four funerals, took a moment to help a woman whose car was stranded in flood waters in Washington, D.C. The incident prompted Tom to say, “There’s hope.” When interviewed about their actions, one of the marines, Cpl. Jered Tosher, insisted what they had done was nothing special. Instead, he hoped such actions might become part of a cycle, saying, "And if people [who benefited from a good deed] just reciprocate that, and do good unto others, I think our country is headed in a good direction."
Of course, our eternal hope—a hope untouched by the challenges of this life—is in Jesus Christ. Without getting into the intricacies of Christian theology, Christians believe who Jesus is and what he did makes possible real hope. The hope we have for the future changes how we see the present. That hope reminds us that justice will triumph, wrongs will be righted, life will prevail over death. As Tim Keller says, "Our Christian hope is that we are going to live with Christ in a new earth, where there is not only no more death, but where life is what it was always meant to be."
LOVE.
Wait, what happened to “charity?” The English language happened to “charity.” While the translation was fine in the early 17th century, most modern translations prefer translating “agapē” as “love.” This is the love that seeks the best for others. Older evangelical theologians called it “disinterested benevolence,” doing good for others with no thought of being repaid or rewarded. It is a love that does not first ask, “What’s in it for me?”
Just consider the fuss over masks. Most of those who complain seem immune to the suggestion they might wear a mask for someone else’s benefit. While many of the anti-vax arguments are spurious (Magnetized. Really?), some might be granted a degree of plausibility; yet the anti-mask arguments seem 98% self-centered. “I can’t breathe when I wear a mask,” some say; this, while millions around the world breathe just fine while wearing a mask.
We know 2020-21 will be remembered for the pandemic and the continuing election fury. Perhaps I should add the “Karen phenomenon.” You’ve seen her in action, usually marked by an explosion of self-centeredness ignited by a conviction of privilege.
Wouldn’t you enjoy waking to stories about some “Teresa” (such women need a generic name, too) who has committed an unbridled act of kindness while seeking nothing in return, an act that affirms rather than demeans?
With so many voices, on the left and the right, promoting division, outbursts of love are needed in every corner of our world. We need “Teresas” (and “Nicks,” for that matter) to counteract hate and indifference. As with “Karens” (and whoever their male counterparts may be), these purveyors of love can come from every part of society, from millionaires who build social centers in blighted neighborhoods to high schoolers who mow a disabled neighbor’s yard.
Of course, the great inspiration of this love is Jesus. Look again at the New Testament for illustrations of his love—manifested in acts of benevolence and grace. Throughout the Christian centuries, mystics, sages, theologians, and ordinary believers have understood that close contemplation of Jesus’s love will change how we treat one another. Philip Yancey explains, “One who has been touched by grace will no longer look on those who stray as ‘those evil people’ or ‘those poor people who need our help.’ Nor must we search for signs of ‘loveworthiness.’ Grace teaches us that God loves because of who God is, not because of who we are.”
One promise of the new birth is that as we continue our pilgrimage our love will become much more like God’s love because of what God’s love is making us.
