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Vaccines and the Christian Call to Love One Another

What is the Christian duty?

Maybe you’re reading this and thinking, “I’m not even a Christian, who cares?” If you believe in acting morally and ethically toward others in society, you might also have an interest in this. I’m a Christian, so that’s where my ethics derive from, and what I write about today.

Christian duty is many things. When you boil it down, it is simply this: to love God and love others. There are a multitude of ways to do this, but one of the fundamental ways we achieve this is by putting others ahead of ourselves.

We live in a society where people vehemently demand their rights. But the call of Christ is that we recognize both our duty and privilege as Christians. We are sinners saved by undeserved grace, called to do what Jesus did; give up our rights in order to serve those around us.

Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.

You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.

Though he was God,
    he did not think of equality with God
    as something to cling to.
Instead, he gave up his divine privileges;
    he took the humble position of a slave
    and was born as a human being.
When he appeared in human form,
     he humbled himself in obedience to God
    and died a criminal’s death on a cross.

Philippians 2:3-8

This isn’t a post that’s been fun for me to write. I have many friends who continue to say no to vaccination. I’ve said before I can respect their decisions, but the truth is, I don’t respect it. I can respect and love someone as a person while thinking they have made a poor decision.

I’m not really one to get on a soapbox on social media, but something in me was convicted the other day in the shower. Yes, you read that right. Every day, I feel anxiety and concern for those I know who are unvaccinated and the people they come into contact with. I was praying about it. Instead of giving me peace, the Lord said, “Well, what have you done about it?” I am afraid I haven’t been very courageous in sharing my beliefs with those around me, and would like to remedy that.

As the COVID-19 vaccine debate kicked off last year, I knew I’d get my shot as soon as it became available. I know several doctors and medical practitioners who told me they were comfortable with the vaccine’s safety and efficacy. And I did my own research, reading different studies and about the risks and benefits.

After reading an article from a friend who was enrolled in the Johnson & Johnson trial in Orlando, I spoke with another friend who signed up for the J & J trial in New York. Asking her questions about it prompted me to enroll in the AstraZeneca trial here in Nashville, an experience I’ve written about for the Williamson Herald.

I’m still a participant in the trial, and since being unblinded, I found I’ve been fully vaccinated since the beginning of the year.

I’m typically very healthy, experiencing between 1-3 days of sickness each year. Since last February, I haven’t had a cough, fever, sore throat, or any remote experience of sickness. If I were to get sick with COVID, I’m not particularly concerned about my suffering, or even potential death (a very unlikely occurrence, based on statistics) but that instead, I might pass it along to someone with a less robust immune system. I have several close friends with weakened immune systems and who have recently overcome cancer.

Because I am rarely sick, I never chose to get vaccinated against the flu. Ever since a doctor friend explained the immunization could save someone else’s life, I’ve gotten the flu shot every year. I view the COVID vaccine in the same way.

Choosing to receive the vaccine isn’t really about me, or you. It’s about protecting others who cannot protect themselves from a deadly virus. There is a category of people who cannot get vaccinated, whether due to young age or pre-existing health conditions. As a people who profess to care about the most vulnerable in society, we ought to consider their health when we make a decision to not get vaccinated, not wear a mask, and behave in ways that negatively affect the lives of others.

In the gospel of Mark, Jesus answered a question posed to him by the disciples James and John, who wanted to know how they could be seated in positions of honor in heaven.

Jesus cautioned them, saying they didn’t know what kind of suffering they were asking for. The other disciples heard the conversation, and “were indignant.”

So Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers in this world lord it over their people, and officials flaunt their authority over those under them. But among you it will be different. Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must be the slave of everyone else.  For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Mark 10:41-45

I urge you to think deeply today: How have you answered the call to serve your neighbor during the pandemic? Have you spent time complaining about the interruption to your life, or the loss of your “rights”? Or have you sought to serve and put others ahead of yourself?

This post is not meant to be a tool of shame, but rather, self-examination. If you are feeling convicted, let me encourage you: it’s never too late to follow Jesus’ example and choose to serve others in the way we lead our lives.

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The Big One

This August, I’m beginning a new chapter: law school.

When I had to choose a school, moving away from Nashville presented no issue. I was confident no matter where I went, I’d make my way back to my beloved Franklin. I prepared my friends and family for reality: I was leaving.

But throughout the process, I’ve been plagued with indecision, fearful of not making the perfect decision.

I had set my mind on one school; they had all the right programs for what I wanted to study, and they were offering me the most scholarship money. The prospect of moving to this new and vibrant town excited me.

Still, something held me back from fully committing.

Since moving to my home in Franklin a year ago, I’ve felt mixed emotions. I sought to maintain an emotional distance from my two roommates. After all, who knew how long I’d live there? Over time, the walls I’ve built to block out any emotion that might leave me vulnerable have come crumbling down. The third roommate definitely helped with that, see below.

I recognize now how foolish and prideful I have been in discounting the love and support of my friends, especially my roommates. We have grown together, through frustrations and celebrations.

And I came to realize this: Maybe God doesn’t want me to sacrifice everything to move to another city. Maybe instead, He is calling me into deeper relationships with those I love. Maybe, He knows that for me, staying is scarier than leaving. This time, I’m not supposed to leave.

I wrote these words in my journal the other day:

“I can ignore it no longer: the people God has brought into my life have changed everything for the better. I am home.”

Understanding that made my choice easy: I’m staying here and will attend Belmont Law this fall.

So why law?

I first took the LSAT over three years ago, so it’s been a long time coming. Over the years, my motivation has shifted.

At first, I was interested in the legal system in the natural way any writer becomes. As I changed jobs and roles, I began to see my skills and interests pointing me in a different direction.

An avid fan of Pamela Colloff’s writing, I always hoped to become the kind of investigative journalist who pens accounts that change things. I soon understood the type of life required to make that vision true, and felt it an unrealistic path for me to pursue.

And yet, God planted a seed.

I’ve been on a journey of understanding my own salvation and what it means for my life. In that process, God has impressed upon me a specific purpose:

Learn to do right; seek justice.
Defend the oppressed.
Take up the cause of the fatherless;
plead the case of the widow.

Isaiah 1:17

I understand this biblical imperative in the active sense, and I am committed to making it my life’s work.

America’s justice system is broken on many levels. In our striated society, the most vulnerable are often left defenseless and used as scapegoats. Those who have committed crimes are punished disproportionately based on skin color and socioeconomic status. Little consideration for mental health and previous trauma is factored into sentencing. We lock people up and throw away the key, choosing to look past their humanity.

I’m a privileged white woman who has never gone hungry or without a roof over my head, but I know well what it is like to be spiritually poor. I know what it is like to make big mistakes and to be shown mercy. Every good thing I have received in life is a gift from God. Each day, I feel the Christian imperative to share the same grace.

For years, I’ve felt a tug not to just listen and share stories, but to become part of them as an advocate. That’s why I’m going to law school.

Recently, I spoke with a defense attorney who has worked on prominent cases for clients facing the death penalty.

I asked him what he enjoyed about the work, and he put it bluntly: “There’s a lot about the work I don’t enjoy. When you’re dealing with and fighting injustices, it’s not always enjoyable. It can be really discouraging and upsetting.”

Still, he left his job working for a large corporate firm because of something deeper: “I just saw there were so many injustices,” he said. “It became a calling.”

I, too, am choosing to follow my calling.

If you liked this post,
why not buy me a coffee?
I’m about to be an
exhausted law student!
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Do You Love Me?

As Easter approaches, I’ve been pondering the events surrounding Jesus’ death and the role played by the disciple Peter.

I’ve long been fascinated with Peter; many believers can relate to his bold passion for the Lord, as well as his anger, impatience and occasional foolishness. 🙋🏼‍♀️

During Holy Week, my thoughts have centered on Peter’s ultimate denial of Jesus as his beloved teacher was sentenced to death.

This is a man who, the night prior, initially rejected Jesus washing his feet, until Jesus said this:

“Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.'”

‘Then, Lord,’ Simon Peter replied, ‘not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!'”

John 13:8-9

I get a chuckle out of Peter’s response, but it demonstrates his zeal for being a follower of Christ.

Later that night, when Jesus predicts Peter’s denial, he responds vehemently:

“Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.”

Matthew 26:35

At first, he follows up on this statement. When the Roman guards and priests come to arrest Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, Peter uses his sword to cut off one of their servant’s ears.

Jesus rebukes Peter, reminding him of His own power and purpose:

“Put your sword back in its place,” Jesus said to him, “for all who draw the sword will die by the sword.”

Matthew 26:52

After Jesus’ arrest, the Bible says the disciples who were with him fled, except Peter and “another disciple,” probably John. They followed Jesus to the high priest’s courtyard, where they waited to hear news of his trial.

As Peter warmed himself beside a fire in the courtyard, he was asked three times if he knew Jesus, was a disciple, and was in the olive grove with Jesus when he was arrested. He strongly denied each of these.

“Immediately a rooster crowed. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: ‘Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.’ And he went outside and wept bitterly.”

Matthew 26:74

Peter was ready for a fight. He knew Jesus’ arrival meant revolution. What he failed to understand was the form that revolution would take: not the retaking of Israel by the sword, but retaking and renewing spirits lost without God.

When he realized his purpose for following Jesus didn’t totally align with Jesus’ mission, he probably felt angry and lost. Instead of leading the disciples to revolution, his teacher was brutally put to death. I wonder what Peter thought and felt in the days between Jesus’ arrest, death and ultimate resurrection.

–

The story doesn’t end there, though. We know Peter felt remorse for his actions and sought forgiveness. In his brokenness, he was rebuilt.

When the other disciples doubted the account of the women who found Jesus’ tomb empty, Peter rushed over to see for himself. He was also one of the first to encounter Jesus after his resurrection.

After Peter’s denial, Jesus’ death and resurrection, you can imagine that Peter’s faith was shaken. Jesus took special care to speak with him, forgive him, and let him know his work for the Kingdom of God was just beginning.

–

Earlier in the gospel of Matthew, after Peter declares Jesus to be the Messiah, the son of God, Jesus renamed him.

“And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.”

Matthew 16: 18

In Greek, the name comes from the word “Petros,” meaning “Rock,” as does its Aramaic counterpart, the name Cephas.

At the end of John’s gospel, Jesus challenges Peter three times: “Do you love me?”

There are various levels of significance this passage takes, with different kinds of love being referred to (you can read more in depth about that here).

Peter responds affirmatively to each of Jesus’ prompts: “Yes Lord, you know that I love you.”

Jesus then responds three separate times: “Feed my lambs; take care of my sheep; follow me.”

–

In his latest book, Pastor Tim Keller writes about a biblical pattern he calls “the Great Reversal.” This reversal is inherent in Jesus’ ministry: Instead of the Messiah people expected, who would come in power and glory, Jesus came to the world in humility and meekness, surprising his followers at every turn.

His ministry was not the political revolution the Jews hoped for, but one even more radical: a complete freeing of people from their sin. He lifted up people who were sick and poor. He healed those who were broken, both physically and spiritually. The ultimate reversal occurred when he conquered death and came back to life.

We can see the effects of this reversal demonstrated in Peter’s journey. Faced with his pride, he finally saw his weakness. Because of his true love for God, through recognition of sin and repentance, he was fully restored. Today, we see Peter’s ministry as vital to the founding of the early Christian church.

There is a message all believers can take from Peter’s life: those who love God will be tested. The world will break us, but God promises an ultimate restoration.

Like Peter, we have a choice: to acknowledge the sin we all carry, or to ignore it, letting it infest us with bitterness.

Once we see our sin, we open ourselves to the greatest gift of all: freedom into a good, everlasting life, bought through Jesus’ death on the cross.

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Bound in Brokenness

Do you see yourself as broken?

It’s an interesting question to ask people. Some will respond yes, explaining histories of trauma, while others say no, just as emphatically.

“Broken” is an adjective described in the dictionary as, “having been fractured or damaged and no longer in one piece or in working order.”

When I look at the world, I see everyone as broken.

I believe one of the deepest and most integral parts of Christianity is acknowledging brokenness, both in the world and oneself. For me, much of that recognition has come in the past year.

Throughout my life, I’ve always tried to maintain a sense of composure: emotionally, physically, and mentally. This is a reaction to my childhood, when everything felt broken.

As an adult, I want to present myself to others as solid, stable in my identity and my life. Someone who knows where she is going, and has learned from where she’s been. I have written about many of my struggles, hoping both to encourage others in their own journeys and to heal myself. But still I am broken.

I struggle to escape from regrets over the things I’ve done, even though I’ve asked for forgiveness and live differently.

In my heart of hearts, I know I have been forgiven. Yet often I wonder if I will ever get out from under the shame of the past. Will I allow myself to feel the worthiness I know God bestows upon us all as His children?

I tell myself this story: that I carry my shame with me as a reminder of where I have been and how God has redeemed me. Perhaps the truth is, I carry it like armor. I’m deeply afraid I don’t deserve good things or good relationships, that if people really knew me, they would reject me. I’m afraid if I lay down my shame, I’ll forget my sins and go back to them. So I keep them close.

There are two sides to salvation, though. First is understanding one’s sins and need for salvation, as Paul says to Timothy:

Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst.

1 Timothy 1:15

I have no problem acknowledging that: “I am the worst.” All our sins are equal in God’s eyes.

The flip side is harder for me to live out: God gives grace and blots out our sins once we repent of them.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death.

Romans 8:1-2

Lately, I’ve been peeling my armor off, bit by bit, if just for a while. I’m fortunate to have friends who listen to me without judgement, with open hearts and arms. They make me understand I am valued in spite of the worst things I’ve done.

Whether we acknowledge it or not, we all carry a heavy burden. We are bound in brokenness; it’s a component of humanity. Understanding it helps us gain empathy for ourselves and for others, and it helps us heal.

I encourage you to examine your life: where are your broken pieces? What do you hold onto as armor? Maybe it’s time you work on laying it down and stepping out of shame and into freedom.

There’s a song I love where the lyrics call God, “A rock of refuge where my pride is broken/ where we are built upon like living stone.”

I choose to think of my brokenness as a fissure, the heart of which God is using to rebuild me. He is at work carving and molding me into what He wants me to be. It’s painful, and it may take a lifetime, but I am confident of this: it will be worth the end result.

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May 7, 2020

In a world where everything is loud, where my brain screams, spins endlessly from the moment I awaken, nature is full of God’s peace.

But nature is not silent. Breezes ripple, leaves and twigs crackle as wildlife scurry about. Birds chirp, rivers bustle and roar.

Yet the sounds are made for reflection. Nothing artificial or contrived, they beg our bodies to stop and drink it in; feel the breeze chill our skin and sunshine cheer our smiles.

It is a powerful peace, one that separates us from the fears of the outside world. But if we can find that peace so close to home, why can’t we seem to keep it in our hearts?