As some of you may be aware, I recently started a second Substack, called Liturgical Threads. LT is a project where I am crafting original worship materials every week, based on the Revised Common Lectionary. It’s still very much a work in progress, but I wanted to share here the mini-sermon I wrote this week, which is crafted for the second Sunday in Lent. Enjoy, and consider subscribing to Liturgical Threads if this kind of thing appeals to you. You can find more info about the project by reading the About page.
Not too show my age too much, but let’s think about that 90’s Christian kid meme: WWJD. If you were in church youth groups, you likely had something with those letters on it, whether it was a friendship bracelet or t-shirt or handwritten on the inside cover of your NIV Teen study Bible. “What would Jesus do?” This was the question posed to millions of gen x-ers and millennials, a question that shaped their socially-oriented approach to the faith, something that peaked with the emergent church and the ex-vangelicals in the 2010s.
Christians have always grappled with this question, because it is what sets our faith apart from other religions. When assessing our ethical imperatives, we have the concrete example of a flesh-and-blood God, who lived and breathed and acted. We have four gospels worth of what it is Jesus would do, and yet despite this, we still struggle to answer the question. What would Jesus do with the illegal immigrant? What would He do with the teen mom who needs an abortion? What would he do in the face of MAGA America?
Paul grappled with this question, throughout all of his letters. The imitation of Christ - couched so often in the language of participation - is central for the instructions Paul gives his churches. What would Jesus do with meat sacrificed to an idol? With the divergent backgrounds and worldviews of Jews and Gentiles worshipping next to one another? With itinerants appropriating His name to promote a divergent Gospel?
In this Epistle reading today, Paul tries to ease the burden of WWJD, by commending his own example as a place to look for imitation. In the face of a world tempting them with the fruits of gluttony and avarice and greed, Paul implores his people to stand firm in the way of God, to continue their imitation of Christ, and of Paul himself, if the example of Christ proves too daunting.
This question vexes us today. Some Christians think that the things Jesus would do look a lot like popular American masculinity, embodied in America in 2025 by big trucks and bravado and swagger and a casual indifference to women and minorities. Yet, right here in the Gospel of Luke, we see a very different kind of Jesus to imitate: Jesus the mother hen, drawing her chicks under wing and weeping for them, the mothering love of God centered in our conception of Her and Her power.
Maybe the mothering God isn’t our vibe. That’s ok; Scripture contains a multitude of images of God, enough so that we can find that which speaks to us. And yet, we must remember to always keep Jesus in sight; our imitation is of Christ, because Christ shows us most clearly what God looks like, and thus how we should live. This means any form of discipleship that rejects justice, compassion, mercy, nonviolence, or grace, is the wrong answer to WWJD. Those false visions of the life of discipleship require us to question and push back against them, just as Abram was willing to push back against God. If Abram can do that, then we can all find moments to challenge MAGA Christianity whenever it rears its ugly, nationalist and hypermasculine head.
WWJD? Love, mostly, like a mother does. May we all be so strong.