The opening paragraphs of “Communities of Care and Concern” by Rev. Dr. Nick Peterson, an assistant professor of Homiletics and Worship at Christian Theological Seminary in Indy. As a practical theologian, Nick interrogates how intentional and unintentional practices shape Christian identities and configure worldviews. Click on The Political Theology Network here to read it in its entirety.

Oppression overwhelms. Its incessant dehumanizing and dishonoring practices work together to undermine human dignity and quench the spark of hope that dreams of otherwise possibilities. Surviving and overcoming oppression require what Mother Ruby Sales has coined “spiritual genius.” This genius represents a determined refusal to surrender one’s value and worth to the deformed imagination of the oppressor.

Sales describes this genius as conscience-making work, where the fundamental narratives that make life meaningful affirm self-love without requiring hatred of others. For Sales, spiritual genius requires intimacy with the Creator and the ability to never let hate take root in the heart.

Similarly, Martin Luther King Jr., whose birthday is on the 15^th,  said in his final book, Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community?,

“The worth of an individual does not lie in the measure of [their] intellect, [their] racial origin or [their] social position. Human worth lies in relatedness to God.”

The ultimate problem with oppression is its intention to profane – to render the oppressed beyond divine relationality – to violently desacralize the human subject.

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By Rev. Dr. Nick Peterson, Professor of Homiletics and Worship at Christian Theological Seminary in Indianapolis. In his work, Nick explores how black faith engenders intramural care practices, which he calls “black-on-black care” – a transformative care that contends with and sometimes exceeds the constraints of antiblackness. Rev. Dr. Peterson offered this up to celebrate the 10-year anniversary of RadicalDiscipleship.net.

I traffic in primarily liberal Protestant circles where discipleship often gets a bad rap, largely due to its association with evangelical circles whose theologies frequently oppose liberation and inclusion. Still, I think it’s important not to abandon the idea or concept to its popular usage, but rather to recognize its potential to sow the seeds of God’s will on earth as it is in heaven.

We all know that Jesus called and chose his disciples—like any good rabbi, he wanted to select people who could carry forward his teachings and his orientation toward life and God’s purpose in the world. The thing is, Jesus didn’t seem particularly selective about whom he chose, or at least that’s how the gospels tell it. He was simply walking along and called men as he encountered them, and, across the board, they stopped what they were doing to follow him. These were not generally men trained in the specifics of Jewish law or religious practice. They were not of noble birth or high standing, with few exceptions. Still, Jesus chose to give the best of himself to a group of ordinary, everyday people.

Jesus calls disciples who will follow. And that’s the challenge, because following Jesus doesn’t necessarily make the path any clearer. The road of discipleship does not lead to easy living; in fact, it leads to a radical disposition. This disposition confronts suffering, pain, neglect, and oppression with truth, words of hope, and life itself. The discipline of discipleship is less about having the right answers or being a superb apologist, and more about being willing to witness pain that we’d rather not see—and remaining bold enough to believe and wait for God to show up in it.

The radical call of discipleship remains a daunting proposition because Jesus ultimately chose to show his greatest power by entering into death and waiting with it until even death surrendered to God’s purposes. The world we inhabit is death-dealing as well, because of the evil born of human hands. From our children killing each other at school and at play, to our dollars funding the bombing of children thousands of miles away—death has become a universal currency. And in the face of this, God calls a remnant, raises a witness in the world, to remind us that this is not how we are meant to live.

The ubiquity of violence and death can be so overwhelming that it may feel like our labor and waiting are meaningless. This feeling is amplified by the pressure to make a large impact, to equate witness with notoriety or platform. But God’s call has never been about winning on the world’s terms or even on our own terms. God does not call disciples to play and win the game of domination. God calls disciples to lavish love on the world until Love wins. God calls disciples to pour out mercy and grace on the neglected and the maligned, like water on thirsty ground. God calls disciples to a steadfastness that does not confuse urgency with anxiety or inclusion with passivity. The radical call of God is like the wind of the Spirit, moving where it will, connecting inspired breaths across time and space.

For the gift of the invitation to follow, we give thanks. For those whose footprints reveal new paths in this journey, we give thanks. Thank you, radical disciples, for nurturing this oasis in a dry land.

This is an excerpt from the beginning of Rev. Dr. Nick Peterson’s Pentecost Sunday sermon “I Got Issues” (preached to Mr. Carmel Christian Church in Indianapolis on May 19, 2024) on Luke 8:1-3, 42b-48. Watch the whole thing here (jump ahead to 58:53).

I got Issues, you got issues, they got issues, we all got issues.

I’m unsure when that phrase became popular, but its broad and continued use functions as a diagnostic.  It is a confession that you have observed a problem.  To confess that I have issues is to acknowledge that inside me, my head, my heart, and or my body, there is something askew, something that ain’t quite how it should be, that something is not in its ideal ordering, and the dis-order is mine to contend with.  It is also the case that when we say you, or he, or she, got issues, we are again confessing that we have determined that somewhere in your corporeal schema, in your person or personality – something ain’t up to snuff, something is off kilter. 

Whether its you or me, he, she, it, or they – to have issues is to confess that the math ain’t mathing, the sense ain’t sensing, the health ain’t healthing, and the mind ain’t minding.  I got issues, you got issues, we all got issues.  And while our issues are different, and our conditions particular to our life’s circumstances – it is a shared phenomenon to live knowing that we got problems – recognizing that there are some things in our lives that are not how they ought to be or how we want them to be and as issues they trouble us and flow out from us to the world around us. 

Continue reading “I Got Issues” →

Note: This is part of a series of short posts, in the lead-up to the election, from leaders reflecting on hope and/or resistance.

By Rev. Nick Peterson

Hope, for me, owes nothing to politics. The extent to which we think hope alongside and within the American political apparatus is discouraging at best and soul-killing at worst. At present, the religious right imagines American politics as the right site to enact a near-theocratic rule of law. Holding fast to an American exceptionalism established by the puritans, the right’s religious imagination appeals to a moral yesteryear that never was. Meanwhile, the left opts for a liberal humanism that, on the one hand, narrates inclusion and acceptance as an American God-given birthright. While on the other, liberals insist that the unceasing acts of anti-black violence are not reflections of who we are. On both sides, hope is a means to America.

Continue reading “Hope as an Intervention upon America’s Antiblackness” →