Reconciling Places. Paul A. Hoffman

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      The Apostle Paul said that he saw through a mirror dimly (1 Cor 13:12). Those with wisdom recognize that there is only One who sees truth objectively. For the rest of us, our point of view is shaped by the point from which we view the world. Our context, where we stand geographically, sociologically, economically, biologically, and autobiographically, shapes how we view reality. In the parable of the sower the only variable is the location of the soil. The sower and seed are the same. The location of the soil determines the response. Likewise, the reigning ideology of where we live tends to hold us captive and in bondage to idolatry, which in turn leads to dehumanizing others. The ecology of our heart is not neutral; it is deeply shaped and often misshaped by socialization in a polarized world.

      The truth we seek is not found in ideology. It is found in a person, the great Reconciler of the world—Jesus Christ. Jesus destroyed the wall of hostility between those who have been divided by the socialization processes of this world (Eph 2:14–18). Jesus has taken the hostility, animosity, and suspicion between people who are captive to ideology, and through his death and resurrection, he has created one new humanity. Now together, as this one new humanity, we can seek first his kingdom and his righteousness (Matt 6:33).

      Ideology, like all idols, seeks full devotion from those it holds captive so that, in time, citizenship of country replaces discipleship to Christ, or submission to political correctness replaces our love for true freedom. Submission to ideology erects walls of hostility between people. Jesus was and is good at destroying walls and building bridges. In fact, Jesus became the ultimate bridge by his willingness to die for his friends and his enemies.

      Paul Hoffman, in Reconciling Places, captures the heart of the good news of Jesus by helping us to become bridge builders. One of the beautiful contributions that Hoffman makes in this book is how he tells the story of God. Instead of using the common story line of creation, fall, redemption, and consummation, he frames the story relationally. Drawing on the fact that in the beginning was community, Hoffman puts reconciliation at the center of what our triune God is doing in this world. He reminds us that the Creator of this good world is reconciling us not just to himself but to each other, within ourselves, and with all of creation. The good news that gives us hope in our polarized world is the recognition that Christ came “to reconcile all things to himself, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross” (Col 1:20). Our ultimate hope is in our triune God’s ability to bring about new creation. It is a hope that is based on the love of the Father, the faithfulness of the Son, and the power of the Holy Spirit.

      Hoffman is wise in reminding us that if we are to be bridge builders we must count the cost, as this work is not for the fainthearted. Seeking to be reconcilers is excruciating and demanding work. Hoffman, after recognizing the importance of the places we dwell, gives us the foundation and substructure of bridge building before diving into concrete reconciliation practices. He does this because he recognizes that if we are going to have endurance in our reconciliation practices, our practices must be constructed on a foundation that allows us to move forward with faith, hope, and love.

      I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know Paul, as we were simultaneously pursuing our PhDs at the University of Manchester (UK). When spending time with him, I quickly picked up that this theme of reconciliation flows from his heart. As you read this book, you will realize that Reconciling Places is not just a theoretical journey for Paul; it is a journey that he is living out. What makes this book come alive for me is getting a peek at how God was shaping this life message in Paul from the time he was young to this very day. My own heart has been encouraged in reading this book by seeing his pursuit of reconciliation in the concrete places he dwells. Seeing him step out in faith by bringing people and churches together to take a public stand against racism lifted my heart. I was encouraged by his realism and his willingness to share both his victories and defeats. For not only is the work of reconciliation costly; it is messy.

      The fact is that we are all a part of some narrative, and the story we live in shapes the script we write day-to-day. What story are you living in? How does that story shape your relationships with your family and friends, or even better, how does that story shape how you treat your enemies? Does the story you live in draw you to our triune God and his work of reconciliation in our world? Does the story in which you live help you experience constructive transformation in your life and in the lives of others? When you imagine the future, do you have a sense of hope or despair?

      As you start to read this book, you will soon see what gives Hoffman hope. The first chapter is devoted to place—the city and towns in which we live. This significance of place speaks to Hoffman’s understanding of incarnation. He doesn’t want us to see the places we live with just ordinary eyes. Within the first chapter, he gives us four lenses to broaden our view of place. Through these lenses we appreciate the beauty and brokenness of the built environment but we are also reminded of God’s commitment to new creation through the lens of eschatology. He threads this eschatological lens throughout the book. For as we reflect on God’s future, a renewed heaven and earth, and let it shape our sense of calling, we can live sacramentally in the neighborhoods to which God has sent us, writing a new future for our cities and for the world by anticipating his future in the present. In this way, we become people who live with a sustaining faith, a stubborn hope, and a sacrificial love. Ideology doesn’t produce this kind of life. But if we seek God first, and desire to see his kingdom and righteousness become more manifest in our neighborhoods, we will become peacemakers, demonstrating that we are children of God.

      J. R. Woodward

      Seattle, Washington

      Epiphany 2020

      Preface

      I was in the process of making the final edits for this book (which I started writing in February 2018) when a national powder keg exploded. On May 25, 2020, came the devastating news of the tragic and immoral death of George Floyd at the hands of four Minneapolis police officers. The nine agonizing minutes that officer Derek Chauvin pressed his knee into Mr. Floyd’s neck—effectively killing him—were caught on camera and have been viewed by millions of people across the world. When I watched the video, I experienced a soul-shattering grief and wept.

      Numerous plumes of righteous anger and angst have erupted from cities across the United States (and the globe), expressed in the form of protests (the vast majority being peaceful) along with some incidents of rioting, looting, and arson.

The death of Mr. Floyd has brought us to an undeniable inflection point. To be sure, our national crisis has been precipitated by multiple factors, including: a) as we approach a consequential presidential election (November 2020), you can feel the toxicity infusing our political-partisan environment intensifying, b) due to the COVID-19 pandemic, over 100,000 Americans have died and tens of millions are unemployed or underemployed, c) surveys indicate more than one-third of people are wrestling with anxiety and depression,1 and d) thousands of churches are struggling with the pressures and logistics related to regathering for live worship services.

      How did I respond? On June 1, I was invited to participate in a prayer vigil for racial justice in honor and memory of George Floyd at Liberty Square in Newport, Rhode Island, organized by the NAACP Newport (Rhode Island) Branch. Everything about the rally felt significant, unifying, and healing. Along with the rally organizers—including clergy and government officials—I shared my heart (testified) and led the crowd in prayer.

To me, this event beautifully captured the essence of the reconciling places model presented in this book. If you would like to gain a sense of what occurred, I strongly encourage you to watch the fifty-six-minute video of the rally,2 read the news coverage,3 and check out my personal reflections.4

      In the final analysis, while the reconciling work of the cross is finished, our work as God’s reconcilers is not yet done.

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