The Influencer Who Became Nothing

Posted on by Pam Engelbert

The Blog That Speaks: The Influencer Who Became Nothing

I heard a young voice crying out, “Daddy . . . Daddy . . . DADDY. . . Look at me!” 

Image by Stefan from Pixabay

I glanced up to observe a young girl under the age of five attempting to amuse herself on the community’s playground equipment. The little girl’s voice indicated increased desperation coupled with exasperation. She was lacking one thing to make her playtime complete: She needed to be seen by her father who was staring at his phone.

Many of us may identify with that little girl. We may recall moments during our childhood when we too cried out to someone, “Look at me!” But, now as adults, we are more developed. We evaluate such behavior in adults in a less favorable light, labeling it as a childish way to seek attention. Yet, this does not have to be the case.

Desiring attention is a basic, valid human need. It is in the same category as the human needs of recognition, acknowledgement, to be noticed, or to be seen.

And lest we assume that as adults that we have outgrown such a need, think again. The need to be seen remains, whether we are 5 or 105. Even as adults, we are still like that kid in the classroom who raises their hand for everything, shouting, “Me! Me! Pick me!” The difference is: adults have found more subtle, sophisticated means to meet the need to be seen. We may buy that super cute (but expensive) outfit with matching shoes or purchase that sporty vehicle with all the trimmings. Others use social media by posting a picture of their latest vacation or typing a witty comment. Some seek to accumulate more followers or choose to become influencers. And then there are those of us who write a blog. 

The significance of being seen must not be underrated. It requires the involvement of another person since the need cannot be met in isolation. At its very core is the necessity for relationality. The need to be seen carries substantial weight as it calls out to another human being for validation.

Our value, worth, and acceptability are communicated when we are seen. We know that we matter when we are seen by the other. 

To portray the significance of being seen, imagine with me a scenario in which there was someone that you knew, but over time the two of you drifted apart as you each chose a different path. Despite the current lack of contact, however, you have been able to keep track of said person. This individual has become quite visible, gaining much clout, respect, and notoriety with at least umpteen million followers.

More recently, you learned that an organization, of which you are member, has invited this individual from your past to be the featured speaker at the annual meeting, a meeting that you attend. Your interest is peaked. You initially think how nice it would be to connect with said individual again. Your mind envisions various scenarios depicting your first encounter after all these years. But then a different reality sets in, creating doubts that the once-known-to-you person will even remember you. Still, you keep a potential plan in the back of your mind of how your first conversation could unfold . . . just in case. It’s a good plan, but you need enough courage to implement it.

Unfortunately, the plan of how-to-approach-said-prominent person becomes a moot point when you are delayed, causing you to be late to the first session. As you slip into the crowded room, you find an empty seat in the back. Since you are late and far from the front, you begin to have an internal dialogue with yourself. You point out that in contrast to the speaker you are an unknown, living a pedestrian lifestyle, not unlike many others in attendance. You berate yourself about the so-called plan, underscoring solid reasons why you should not execute it. As self-doubt continues to overshadow your mind, you faintly hear your name in the distance. You glance around, only to realize that it is coming from the front of the room. You look and make eye contact with the once-known-but-now-prominent person. You realize that in that moment the person sees you. The person is greeting you by name in front of the entire group. A rush of emotions comes over you. Warm fuzzies explode all over your being. You experience feelings of surprise, pleasure, delight, and thrill. You have not been forgotten. You are seen! 

Before we leap to the conclusion as followers of Jesus Christ that the need to be seen is some selfish, psychological mumbo-jumbo, allow me to point out that the need to be seen is not foreign to Scripture. Consider the words of the psalmist David who captures the human need to be seen:

O LORD, you examine me and know me.

You know when I sit down and when I get up;

            even from far away you understand my motives.

You carefully observe me when I travel or when I lie down to rest;

            you are aware of everything I do.

Certainly my tongue does not frame a word

            without you, O LORD, being thoroughly aware of it.

You squeeze me in from behind and in front;

            you place your hand on me.

Your eyes saw me when I was inside the womb. (Psalm 139:2-5, 16, NET)

In sum, God sees us. As the Hebrew Scriptures affirm, this is God’s character. Occurring many years prior to David writing the above Psalm, a runaway, foreign slave named Hagar encounters God in the desert. As a response to God’s act of ministry to her, she names Yahweh “the God who sees me” (Gen 16). 

In the Christian Scriptures, Jesus shares this characteristic since Christians hold that Jesus is fully God and fully human. Luke’s Gospel tells the story of a tax collector named Zacchaeus. Since he is a man of small stature, he climbs a tree to see Jesus as Jesus passes by him. However, Jesus looks up, sees Zacchaeus, and announces that he is joining Zacchaeus at his house that day. This encounter transforms Zacchaeus to become a man who gives to the poor (Luke 19). Could also it be that being seen is a reason that the prostitutes and other tax collectors—that is, sinners—sought to be with Jesus? 

People around the world celebrate Jesus’s birth during the Christmas season while Jesus the Christ, the Creator who holds all things, arrives on our planet with very little fanfare. One could say that he is almost unseen. He grows in the womb of Mary, who more than likely is an ill-experienced teenager having her first child. There is no gender reveal party. Jesus the King is not born into a family of wealth and status but a poor family. While angels proclaim his birth with much splendor, the audience who hears the angels’ message is not the shakers and movers of society but shepherds who are the shakers and movers of flocks of sheep. Besides the shepherds, few saw and knew of Jesus’s arrival. Thus, it may be more appropriate to say that it is God who saw the shepherds, informing them of the news that Jesus was born. Although Jesus’s birth is now celebrated around the world, it made an underwhelming impact on the earth that particular day.

Despite his mostly unseen entrance into the world, some may call Jesus the greatest influencer in all of history; however, he did not follow the rules of influence but of humility. When the devil offered the opportunity for accolades and praise by all the kingdoms of the world (talk about becoming a world-class influencer!), Jesus said no (Luke 4:5-7). Jesus’s own brothers, who did not believe in him, advised him to attend the Feast of Tabernacles if he is to make a better reputation for himself and show himself to the whole world (John 7:3-5). But again, Jesus resists. 

Jesus’s interest was not for his own glory. Philippians 2 informs us that Jesus gave that up and made himself nothing by becoming human. This very act of becoming human is what informs us that we are seen by God. When God became human, we realized that “God sees me.” When God became nothing, we join David, Hagar, and Zacchaeus in knowing that we are seen by God.

When Jesus became human, instead of grasping to his deity, he communicated to humanity, “I see you,” thereby declaring our worth. 

There is no question that opportunities to be seen abound in our culture. Anybody who is a nobody can become a somebody who is seen simply by selecting from any number of the available digital platforms from Facebook to Substack. By using such platforms, we scramble for a thumbs up, a laugh, a subscriber, or raves in order to be seen.

We simply want someone out there, amidst the eight billion plus people on the planet, to notice us.

But my invitation this Christmas is to join Christ’s ministry of seeing. May we say with Jesus to others, “I see you,” surrendering in that moment our need to say, “Look at me.” This may involve sending a card via snail mail. It could be in our sending a thoughtful text of gratitude. Seeing others may include buying someone flowers or letting someone know that you prayed for them today. 

This Christmas, as we remember perhaps the greatest influencer who made himself nothing, may we surrender our need to be seen in order to see the other. 

As the Apostle Paul writes:

in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,

did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;

rather, he made himself nothing. (Phil 2:3c-7, NIV)

WHEN PRESENCE IS THE PRESENT

Posted on by Pam Engelbert

The Blog That Speaks: When Presence Is the Present

One of my favorite movies that I watch each February is Lars and the Real Girl. [Spoiler Alert: this blog gives away the plot line].

Special thanks to blickpixel on Pixabay for the image

Lars (Ryan Gosling) is a 27-year-old introvert who purchases a life-size silicone doll named Bianca. Bianca is a real girl in Lars’s mind. Although marketed as a sex-doll, Lars suggests that their relationship is chaste when he requests for Bianca to stay with his brother Gus (Paul Schneider) and his wife Karin (Emily Mortimer), who live next door. For Lars, it is inappropriate for Bianca and him to sleep in the same place since they are young and single. Bianca’s life story, as invented by Lars, includes her being an orphan who was raised by nuns. This, in turn, led her to become a missionary, who is currently on sabbatical. Lars accommodates her inability to walk by maintaining that she is wheelchair bound. Consequently, caring for Bianca becomes a family affair since she is dependent on others to bathe and dress her.

Neither the characters nor the viewers are explicitly told the exact cause for the sudden emergence of Bianca in Lars’s life. Viewers, however, are presented with clues that indicate that Lars is both grieving a death and fearing a possible corresponding death. Lars’s grief involves his mother who died while giving birth to him, and he fears the possible death of Karin, who is currently several months along in her pregnancy. Discerning viewers will detect parallels between Lars’s story about Bianca and his own lived experience. For instance, Lars recounts that Bianca’s mother died while giving birth to her. He then inserts a significant detail: Bianca is unable to bear children, a telltale sign of his own defensive measures. While observers recognize that Bianca’s silicone quality preserves her, Lars protects himself from another death and grief through the story of her infertility. The introduction of Bianca and her accompanying story, then, appears to be compensating for the death (i.e., absence) of Lars’s mother and the potential death (i.e., absence) of his pregnant sister-in-law. These are the determining factors for the origination of Bianca in Lars’s life. Let it also be said that it is not abnormal for Lars to fear Karin’s death and seek to shield himself from loss as Karin’s due date quickly approaches. It is common for the bereaved to fear the deaths of those with whom they have a close relationship. 

Like Lars, people’s fears and anxieties surrounding the subject of death is potent.

Such anxiety may be evident when my husband, a retired hospice chaplain, and I, a facilitator of grief support groups, explain to others about our work. We frequently hear, “That’s hard. I could never do that.” Even now as I mention death, some of you are unconsciously marshalling all of your internal resources to resist thoughts of your own mortality while consciously denying your powerlessness against death or attempting to deflect the issue. Such efforts are called proximal defenses in that you are directly opposing thoughts of death through minimization.[1] You may be saying to yourself, “Well, I’m not planning on dying today” or “I eat right and exercise, so I’m in good shape.”

Another common method used to create distance from the reality of death is a Western preference for euphemisms for the word “died.” We commonly hear and use such phrases as “passed away,” “in a better place,” “bought the farm,” “no longer with us,” “gone to heaven,” or “with Jesus.” Perhaps anxieties about death and grief are the reasons I frequently hear from the bereaved of how friends now avoid them or tell them, “You should be over it by now” or “He/She wouldn’t want you to grieve like this.” 

Christians, when encountering a mourner, frequently focus on an event in the future rather than embracing their co-humanity with the mourner by being present to the bereaved’s sorrow and fear in the here and now. These would-be companions leap ahead to a time yet to come with the words, “Oh, you will see them again,” barricading themselves against the reality of a beloved person’s absence in the now. 

As it turns out, Lars is not the only community member to form nontypical coping mechanisms. The audience observes that a male co-worker of Lars is attached to plastic action figures while a female co-worker has bonded to a stuffed bear. Viewers hear about a church member’s cousin who dressed his cats in dresses and that a deceased member was a kleptomaniac, being buried with another church member’s earrings.

That is, we all have ways of coping with our pain and fears. Some are super cleaners. Others are perfectionists. There are those who binge, be it on television or junk food. Then there are the persons who are the shoppers.

When members of the community recognize their co-humanity with Lars (i.e., their creative ways to cope with their fear and anxiety in relation to grief, loss, death, and dying), they enter into Lars and Bianca’s world and treat Bianca as if she is real. They become present to Lars and his world. For instance, a church member presents Bianca with the church’s flower arrangement for that week following the Sunday service. This particular incident conveys an insight into Lars’s grief and fears about the death of others. As Lars pushes Bianca in her wheelchair away from the church, Lars tells Bianca, “Those are nice, huh? And they’re not real, so they’ll last forever.” As the community incorporates Bianca into the normalcy of their lives, they are joining Lars in his grief, fear, despair, and inability to stop death’s arrival. They are accompanying Lars into the absence of his mother and the potential absence of his sister-in-law.

*  *  *  *

The Christmas season is normally an occasion to remember Jesus’s birth, a joyous event. Bright lights adorn our homes. Aromas of delicious baked foods fill the air. Bright wrapping paper with bows and ribbons decorate packages. We sing of angels proclaiming a message that produces a celebratory response. We include a remembering of the Magi from the East who brought gifts to the young King Jesus. Yet, underneath all the glitter, shadows linger. Darkness is juxtaposed with the coming of the Light in the darkness (John 1:5), reminding us that we know light because of darkness. 

The darkness, of which I speak, is found in the fact that Jesus is fully human, and humans die.

I am not denying that Jesus is fully divine, but I am centering on his humanity. As Karoline Lewis asserts “that which is human must die.”[2] The Gospels do not evade the fact of his death, even when proclaiming a joyous announcement of Jesus’s arrival. In the same chapter that describes Jesus’s birth, Luke writes:

“Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, ‘Listen carefully: This child is destined to be the cause of the falling and rising of many in Israel and to be a sign that will be rejected. Indeed, as a result of him the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed —and a sword will pierce your own soul as well!’” (2:34-35). 

The Gospel of John, which does not include a description of Jesus’s birth, also has a theme of Jesus’s death from beginning to end. For example, an implication of death appears from the start in John’s Prologue (1:1-18) when John informs the audience that no one has seen God. Accordingly, this points toward the Hebrew Scriptures’ assertion that those who see God die (Ex 33:18; Isa 6:5);[3] yet, according to the Fourth Gospel, in seeing the incarnate God, it is not humans who die but God. This truth is heightened by the repeated words or phrases that signal Jesus’s death in John. The first of these is a Greek word that is translated hour or time (e.g., 2:4; 7:30; 8:20; 12:23, 27; 13:1; and 17:1) and refers to the occasion of Jesus’s crucifixion and his return to the Father. An additional repeated phrase is “lifted-up” (3:14; 8:28; and 12:31-32), and like hour or time, it, too, signifies Jesus’s crucifixion and his ascension. Thus, while persons in late-modernity use proximal defenses to attempt to dispose of any thoughts of death, Jesus speaks frequently of his death in John. Jesus Christ joins in humanity’s death by becoming human. In the face of his death, he is simultaneously turning towards the other, embracing his death to safeguard our lives.

The fact that Jesus is born and dies suggests that Jesus is fully present to humanity in birth, life, and death.

Being present validates our humanity.

Being present to humans communicates our worth.

Being present heals humanity.

*  *  *  *

As the community in Lars and the Real Girl walks alongside Lars and his relationship with Bianca, evidence of Lars’s healing is demonstrated as Bianca is eventually laid to rest. Lars and the Real Girl, then, becomes a reminder of the power of presence amidst grief and fear. It powerfully communicates the healing that may transpire when a community is present to someone’s pain, grief, and fears. As followers of Jesus, the way of Jesus is to enter into the bereaved’s sorrow and death. The one called the Resurrection and the Life entered sorrow and death. He defied death by speaking of it.[4] Hence, it is because of Jesus’s resurrection that we, as followers of Jesus, are able to enter into the other’s sorrow in the absence (death) of a person.

During the holiday season, many mourners wonder how to forge ahead in the absence of someone who has died. Some are tempted to ignore the holidays, climb into bed, and wait for it to be over. Some naively believe they must do things as normal: decorate a tree, put up Christmas lights, attend holiday parties, send out holiday cards, organize normal family gatherings, and bake and bake and bake some more. It is what friends and culture expect, right? But nothing is normal. No amount of wishing will return to us the life that we knew prior to the death of someone significant to us.

The chair at the table will still be empty. 

And so, my invitation for those who have friends and family members who are experiencing the absence of a significant someone during this holiday season is to give the present of presence in absence. Join in their sorrow and fears amidst the death of their person. Participate in Christ’s ministry of presence by joining Christ in his ministry of healing presence. As Christ’s healing presence to humanity is available every day, so too the present of presence is a healing gift that may be given throughout the year.

[1] Spee Kosloff, Gabrial Anderson, Alexandra Nottbohm, and Brandon Hoshiko, “Proximal and Distal Terror Management Defenses: A Systematic Review and Analysis,” in Handbook of Terror Management Theory, eds. Clay Routledge and Matthew Vess (London, UK: Academic Press, 2019), 33. 

[2] Karoline Lewis, “The Calling of the Disciples, the First Sign, and the Temple Incident (John 1:19—2:25),” John: Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2014), 29,  https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt9m0w2g.9.

[3] Lewis writes, “To see God will incur the fate of death (Exod. 33:18; Isa. 6:5).” Lewis, “Introduction,” John: Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Press, 2014), 21, https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt9m0w2g.7.

[4] Root writes, “To speak of death is to defy it, to refuse its claim to paralyze.” Andrew Root, The Promise of Despair: The Way of the Cross as the Way of the Church (Nashville: Abingdon, 2010), Kindle Edition, 92-93.

THE DAY THE SHOT RANG OUT

Posted on by Pam Engelbert

The Blog That Speaks: The Day the Shot Rang Out

The two young men, Emil and Quinton, were best buddies.[1] They were neighbors whose families were part of the same local church.

Image by Ulf Åkesson from Pixabay

Being approximately eight months apart in age, they had earned a reputation for causing mischief, such as lighting cherry bombs at a local Bible camp. The two friends shared a love for motorcycles. They were seen by the neighbors riding their Indian motorcycles, giving them a reputation for being quite the daredevils. 

But then Quinton joined the Marines and fought in the Korean War while Emil remained home to work the family farm. 

When Quinton returned from Korea, he had changed. He was described as less congenial and more aggressive and competitive. Unfortunately, the change ruptured the bond between the two friends.

Both of the young men enjoyed trapping for mink in local creeks or streams and for fox in open fields near animal carcasses. Unfortunately, it was also common that other trappers stole traps, and if there was an animal in the trap, that, too, was taken. In hopes of curbing such thievery, many trappers had their initials etched in their metal traps, but such safeguards did little to stop the thefts. 

As a man with deep feelings, Emil was infuriated that someone was stealing his traps. These thefts were a personal violation. And his prime suspect was Quinton. Wanting to verify his suspicions, he encroached on Quinton’s land to see if his former buddy had indeed been taking what was rightfully his. But Emil got caught by Quinton. If there had been any hope of mending their previous bond, it evaporated on that day.

Quinton was irascible. His hot-temper flared as he saw Emil trespassing. Quinton grabbed his rifle and fired a shot at his former best buddy. It is not known if the ex-Marine’s aim failed or if he had simply issued a warning shot. As he approached Emil with his rifle in hand, he gave it to an associate who was with him, telling the associate to return it to the pick-up. The two former friends exchanged heated words, but the argument turned physical. Quinton kicked Emil in the leg, causing it to break. He then left Emil to crawl back on his own to his pick-up and drive home. 

The two friends had become enemies.

But the suspicion, anger, and dislike did not end there. Emil passed it to his children via story. As the story of theft was repeatedly told, his children learned to distrust Quinton. Emil’s children heard again and again that Quinton was a liar and a thief, and they learned about Quinton harming their father. Thus, all actions of Quinton became suspect. Quinton was a pilot who was hired to spray crops for neighboring farmers. If Quinton was spraying in a nearby field, the children were told that Quinton had purposely spooked Emil’s cattle or that he had deliberately sprayed the family’s garden. Having impressionable minds as children do, the children learned to believe that Quinton was evil and to be feared. 

In the minds of Emil’s family, Quinton moved from being a neighbor to being sub-human. He was no longer viewed as a human being with similar feelings, needs, likes, and dislikes. Instead, he was more closely akin to the devil incarnate.

Enemy images had emerged.

As is the case with Emil, the stories that we tell influence us. The narrative that Emil told not only impacted him but also his family. They believed the worst about Quinton. Although Quinton never confessed to deliberately spooking Emil’s cattle or spraying the family garden, these were interpretations that were being made due the narrative of Quinton being a thief, a liar, and a combatant. As a result, he became seen as a threat. The family assumed that Quinton’s actions were hostile toward them. In the eyes of Emil’s family, Quinton was guilty; Emil was innocent. Quinton was bad; Emil was good. Quinton was the enemy of all that was right and just while Emil bore the image of virtue and fairness. Thus, the repeating of the narrative birthed enemy images of Quinton. 

When enemy images are constructed, any altruism carried out by the other side is deemed suspect and/or discounted. Even attempts toward peace by the so-called enemy are regarded suspiciously. If Quinton had tried to heal the broken bond, Emil may have been cynical of Quinton’s intentions, believing Quinton was being forced to make peace either by the church or his wife. Furthermore, Quinton’s motives to make peace probably would have been seen as a concealment of his hostility toward Emil. It may have been interpreted as a ruse to cause Emil to drop his guard. In short, none of Quinton’s actions were to be trusted.[2] He was viewed as a threat to their very way of life and existence. Nothing about Quinton was seen as similar to Emil. If Quinton and Emil would have experienced corresponding hardship, the fact that Quinton was also suffering would have to be ignored lest he be seen as human. (For more on enemy images, see When Enemy Images Emerge.)

As seen in the above account, narratives influence us. The stories we tell about situations, persons, groups, experiences, ourselves, etc., shape us. If I am teaching a class and I see a student with her eyes closed, I may say to myself, “She is sleeping. I must not be very interesting.” Or I may say, “She is sleeping. She is an unmotivated student.” These are the possible narratives I may tell myself based on my interpretation of the student’s action. Thus, I end up harshly judging either myself or her based on the narrative I tell. Yet, new information and new experiences may change our perspectives about those same situations, persons, groups, experiences, ourselves, etc., both in the past and/or in the present. If I learn that my student had a headache and was closing her eyes because the light bothered her, it changes the narrative that I told about myself or about her. In that case, new information and a new way of thinking alters my perspective. 

Like Emil’s family, our nation has become quite familiar with the narratives of hostility—enemy images.

We have watched in more recent years as the antagonistic political rhetoric has heightened between the Left and the Right. Each side sees the other as a threat. It is reported that threats on the lives of politicians have continued to rise. In this year alone, both sides have experienced the loss of life and attempts to take lives. In June, shots rang out as Melissa Hortman, the Democratic speaker of the Minnesota House of Representatives, and her husband were assassinated, and Minnesota State Senator John Hoffman and his wife Yvette were shot. Three months later, political conservative activist Charlie Kirk was gunned down. Add to that the act of arson at the residence of Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro in April. This does not include two assassination attempts on Donald Trump’s life while he was campaigning in 2024. And now, words declaring war have been uttered in our nation. The Right blames the Left, and the Left blames the Right.

Enemy images have been formed, and anxiety rises.

The increased anxiety reveals our pre-occupation with our own nation and our own selves. Anxiety is a closed system. We become consumed with our fear, which, as Maggie Ross writes, “locks us in time instead of gesturing toward eternity.”[3] Anxiety does not have faith in the unseen of God’s kingdom. It fears what it cannot control. Anxiety sets its sights on the immanent, not the Transcendent One, since it is consumed with self. It does not see and/or trust God or place hope in God. It emerges as I become consumed about me and my experience, but it is quieted as I center on God and God’s kingdom. Anxiety neglects to recognize that as a follower of Christ, I am a participant in Christ’s ministry in the world. It fails to remember that I am partaker in God’s story as it loses sight of the reality that I am not the beginning and the ending of the narrative of God. I am a mortal who is a participant in the story of God.

We add to our anxiety when we spend much of our time attempting to restore what existed previously. This may be seen in our nation (e.g., Let us make America great again) or in our churches (e.g., Let us be like the New Testament church). This places the onus on us. It is dependent on our effort to re-enact what used to be. It is up to us to return to what was. We are attempting to copy the past while also trying to assure ourselves and others that any repeat of the past will be authentic. This increases our anxiety as our eyes are on that which is immanent, not the Transcendent One.

That is, our focus is on the agency of the self, not the agency of the divine.

However, if we profess to be followers of Jesus Christ, there is a different narrative to which are invited to live out. That narrative is of a future with a new heaven and a new earth, a time when God will be all in all (1 Cor 15:28). Scriptures describe this time as when predator and prey will no longer exist. A wolf will be beside a lamb, and the cow and the bear will graze together (Isaiah 11). No longer will there be a patriarchy, and neither will there be racism or tribalism (Gal 3:28). This means that a new world is coming, but it is not out of our own initiative. Instead, we are participants in this movement toward the healing of our world. The Holy Spirit is moving throughout the world, and as a human being, I am being invited to join in that healing movement. I am being beckoned to join the dance of the Triune Godhead of healing ministry in the world. 

I believe that the Apostle Paul understood this. The first letter to the church in Corinth reveals problems that the church was having. Much like our nation and the church today, the church in Corinth was full of competitiveness, dissension, divisions, fighting, aggressiveness, bickering, and the like. They demonstrated arrogance as members claimed that their favorite biblical teacher was better than yours. They revealed divisions as the wealthy ate the best food at the church’s potlucks before the poor (the working class) had even arrived. They displayed competitiveness as members asserted, “I am more important because my spiritual gift is more visible.” In short, their attention was on the self. 

However, Paul attempts to center their eyes elsewhere: the eschaton. With each issue, Paul seeks to correct their attitudes and behavior by trying to turn their sight to the time when God is all in all. That is, there exists an eschatological thread that is visible throughout 1 Corinthians. For Paul, the future, in which God is all in all, is to dictate a Christian’s behavior in the present, the now-but-not-yet. We are to envision the new heaven and the new earth and live that out today by emptying ourselves. When Paul connects the Corinthians’ present problems with eschatology, Paul is calling for the Corinthians to live out their future—the coming revelation of Jesus Christ—in the present.

To apply this to our contemporary setting, we are to pre-enact the future by participating in what the Spirit is already doing instead of trying to re-enact the past through our own abilities.[4]

This pre-enacting of our future is characterized by the Apostle’s words in chapter 13. We are to be patient and kind rather than bragging or being puffed up, which mirrors the philosophy of American-can-doism. Pre-enacting our future is not self-serving, like those who participate in self-aggrandizement, and neither is it rude by degrading others on social media. Love is displayed with attitudes of mutuality and equality within a community by suffering and rejoicing with one another, no matter if one is rich/poor, baptized/not baptized, immigrant/native, Black/White, male/female, Conservative/Liberal, or healed/hurting. Drawing from James K. A. Smith, pre-enacting our future is a practice of “a theology of public life, the life we share in common in the meantime.”[5]

[1] While the story is true, the names have been changed.

[2] Psychologists for Social Responsibility, “Section II: Effects of Enemy Images: Theory & Example,” Enemy Images: A Resource Manual on Reducing Enmity, edited by Steve Fabrick, under heading “Cognitive Biases: Selective Perception and Memory, Cognitive Dissonance, and Causal Attribution, https://pamengelbert.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/09/b1231-enemyimagesmanual.pdf.pdf

[3] Maggie Ross, Writing the Icon of the Heart: In Silence Beholding (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2013), 8.

[4] I want to thank Joseph Dutko for this insight on re-enactment vs. pre-enactment. See Joseph Dutko, The Pentecostal Gender Paradox: Eschatology and the Search for Equality (London: T&T Clark, 2024).

[5] James K. A. Smith, How to Inhabit Time: Understanding the Past, Facing the Future, Living Faithfully Now (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2022), 155, Kindle edition. Please note that parts of this last section on 1 Corinthians may be found in Pamela F. Engelbert, See My Body See Me: A Pentecostal Perspective on Healing from Sexual Violence (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2024).