Health Care? Jesus Complicates It

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
Like most Americans, I’m trying to sort through the current health care debate. But for me, this issue is complicated by the fact I am not just an American consumer of health care; I am also Christian. So I don’t have the luxury of reducing the current debate to “What’s in it for me?” That question gets things in focus pretty quickly. But I have to ask the Jesus question as well: “What’s in it for my neighbor?” It was the Master after all, who said the essence of a godly life was to (1) love God and (2) love your neighbor as yourself.

Does that mean I’m about to lobby for a “big government” solution to the nation’s health care ills? A lot of people seem to make that leap: bring Jesus into the discussion and anybody who is sick should get whatever help they need at taxpayers’ expense. And yes, Jesus did challenge the entrenched interests of his day, stood by and with the poor, and taught us to pray, “Thy Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” But as to the public policy mechanisms for making that happen, Jesus’ teaching is mostly silent. No surprise in that. He lived under Roman occupation, not American democracy.

The one time Jesus was pressed on a hot button political issue--paying taxes to Caesar--he asked for a coin. “Whose picture is on it?,” asked Jesus. When told the emperor’s image was on the coin, Jesus said, “Then give unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God, the things that are God’s!” In my mind’s eye, Jesus then flips the coin back to his interrogators. He hasn’t so much answered their question, as deepened it. The answer is still theirs--and ours--to forge.

Do I believe Jesus cares about the health care plight of so many uninsured and under-insured Americans? Absolutely. And neighbor-love, which is at the heart of following him, requires that I care too. And more than “care,” that like the Good Samaritan, I do what I can to get sick and wounded people the help they need. But as to the exact shape of that moral obligation in the current health care debate, I have more questions than answers.

How can we be “wise as serpents and innocent as doves” in lobbying for needed changes in our nation’s health care system? How can we make sure children, the special objects of God’s compassion, are not penalized for being born into poor families without adequate medical care? How do we balance “neighbor love” with taking responsibility for oneself and one’s own family?

I know a lot of people have this all figured out. I don’t. But then most of the time, Jesus doesn’t simplify my life so much as he complicates it. That is why following him is so much more fulfilling--and infuriating--than following the Answer Man we keep wanting our Messiah to be.

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What's in a Name?

by Bob Setzer Jr.
With a last name like “Setzer,” I am familiar with having one’s name butchered by well-meaning if ill-informed people. My name has been variously mispronounced as Seltzer, Setzie, Settie, Setzler . . . the list goes on and on.

Given that, one would think I might be particularly sensitive to getting people’s name’s right. In fact, I am. I am also fallible. Despite my best intentions, sometimes the brain skips a track and I forget or misspeak a name.

It happened recently during a funeral. Following a fine eulogy by Mercer Law professor, Joseph Claxton, I began my remarks by referencing his. Unfortunately, I mispronounced his name not once but several times, calling him “Mr. Callaway.” Members of the First Church family in attendance who realized the error were appropriately mortified.

Later, after learning of my mistake, I sought out Professor Claxton and profusely apologized. He was more amused than annoyed. I explained I had a professor in seminary named Joseph Callaway. It was an honest mistake and Professor Claxton graciously waved it aside.

He then told me about being in boot camp, 40 years before, where the drill sergeant regularly called him “Clayton” rather “Claxton.” After enduring this indignity for some weeks--as wise recruits do--Mr. Claxon was finally fed up. As gingerly as possible, he informed the drill sergeant of the mispronunciation. The drill sergeant glared and growled, “C-L-A-Y-T-O-N, drop for twenty! You are C-L-A-Y-T-O-N as long as I say you are C-L-A-Y-T-O-N!”

Ten pushups into the prescribed punishment, the drill sergeant called Mr. Claxton by his proper name and told him to get up. That was as close to an apology as any self-respecting drill sergeant could get!

Sooner or later, if one’s name is more challenging than “Jones” or “Smith,” someone will likely mispronounce it. Even pastors and professors can unwittingly dole out such an injury. Thankfully, our Lord cannot. For the Bible contends again and again that God knows people by name, loves names, and never forgets a name.

God says to Moses, “I know you by name” (Ex 33:17). God says to Cyrus, “It is I, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name” (Isa 45:3). There are whole pages of the Bible with nothing but names. Take a look at 1 Chronicles chapters 1-8 for a sampling: names, names, and more names. In fact, there is precious little besides names on those pages.

Maybe it’s meant as a reminder: Someone remembers. Someone will forever value your mark upon the world. Someone knows--and will never forget--your name. Someone knows and will never forget, You.

I try to remember that vital truth when an ordinary mortal mispronounces my name. In a universe where Almighty God never forgets, it is an offense easily forgiven.

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God's Subversive Truth

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
I keep being amazed at how Bible stories and Bible truths keep showing up in real life. This shouldn’t be amazing, since it happens all the time. I must be a slow learner. Or maybe my confidence in the Bible is subtly eroded by a culture that seeks wisdom everywhere else.

A recent case in point of a Bible truth hidden behind the headlines: “Mortals look on the outward appearance but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). This subversive truth about God is sounded in the story of God selecting the shepherd boy, David, as king.

Meanwhile, on a porch in Cambridge, Massachusetts, this truth from the 11th century B. C. makes its presence felt in an ugly way. A prominent professor and an able, well-intentioned police officer erupt in an altercation because each thinks the worst of the other. And at the heart of the misunderstanding is the matter of appearances: one party to the dispute is black, the other white.

From the “black” perspective, people of color in general and black men in particular are sick and tired of having others assume the worst about them, simply because of the color of their skin. From the “white” perspective, you don’t erupt in angry, disrespectful behavior at a police officer trying to do his job, even if you are dog-tired and fuming at being questioned about “breaking into” your own house! There is, of course, a measure of truth in both those perspectives. But as to exactly what happened on that now infamous porch, only God knows: “For mortals look on the outward appearance but the Lord looks on the heart.”

Notice that vital Bible truth isn’t primarily a statement about how things ought to be but about how things are: we tend to think the best of people like ourselves and are most suspicious toward those who are different. This is especially true when we are under stress or even attack. Because of this, racially-fueled misunderstandings are not likely to disappear soon, if ever. Sadly, such a preference for “our own kind” may even be hard-wired into our DNA.

What then is our hope? Moral perfection? No, grace. Grace to listen to those who are different from ourselves. Grace to admit our mistakes and learn from them. Grace to yearn for and pray for and work toward a Kingdom where people are valued for who they are on the inside, not on the outside. Grace to be part of a community that while not color-blind is color-full, celebrating all the shades of God’s multi-complexioned family. In short, grace to be more like Jesus and less like our often defensive, fearful, and yes, racially-biased selves.

Granted, this is a high hope, but such is the call of the Gospel. I learned that from the Bible too.

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