“I sought for anyone among them who would deal with the human condition

and stand in the breach.”

Ezekiel 22:30

 

There was a person sent from God…who was a witness

to testify to the light…the true light, which enlightens everyone.

John 1:6-9

 

“You are witnesses of what I bring and give.”

Luke 24:48

 

 

 

            The bad news of the human condition is perceived, interpreted and thus reported diversely to reflect the surrounding context.  Such diversity then determines variable measures taken, if any, to address the human condition.  This is the fact even for Christians, which becomes an inconvenient truth for those not guided by the facts.  The facts of Jesus, however, are invariable, even though they are subject to denial and subjected to misinformed testimony by Christians.

            Christians in the U.S., as Christians, should be the most marginalized segment of the population. Yet, in reality, we collectively are the most assimilated into the American way of life. Christians in other countries could be marginalized just for their religious difference from the dominant sector, but not necessarily for their identity (being) and function distinguished as Christians. What should distinguish Christians in any country is being in likeness to the whole-ly Trinity—that is, being whole and uncommon in their identity and function in the common contexts of everyday life.

            In the most globally visible period of human history, we live in divisive, fragmented and broken contexts of everyday life. The challenge for all Christians is not about the thinking of how “good” we adapt to this human condition, but how well we change it. When we have the knowledge of what Jesus brings and the understanding of what he gives in his gospel, this urgent challenge shifts to accountability. The accountability for us is inescapable if we have claimed his gospel. At that point, our accountability focuses less on how do we change the human condition and more immediately on when do we change the existing human (our) condition evident at all levels of everyday life. That is, when do we (both individually and collectively) bring to everyday life the uncommon change Jesus brings, so that we can grow and mature the whole-ly justice and peace of his gospel?

            The invariable fact of what Jesus brings and gives to constitute his whole gospel makes unavoidable the existential reality of his sword of peace enacted in the arc of justice.  The scope of his gospel protest, therefore, holds Christians accountable ongoingly for (1) their view of sin composing the human condition, and (2) their related theological anthropology defining the identity and determining the function of their persons and the rest of humanity.  This accountability is also inescapable for those proclaiming to be “my witnesses,” who are often distinguished by a thin line separating them from those claiming to be ‘his witnesses’ without the relational significance of “my.”

 

 

The Irreversible Breach in Humanity

 

 

            The human condition reduces, fragments, controls and enslaves human life at all its levels: individual, collective, sociocultural, institutional and structural.  This condition is irreversible, causing a breach in humanity that is irreparable, which includes the breach in relation to God.  Does this constitute bad news or what?

            Any gospel that assumes that this condition will simply reverse itself when the good news is claimed, or that it will be repaired when the good news is proclaimed, is out of tune with the gospel embodied and enacted by Jesus to account for what he brings and gives.  Such a gospel is misinformed by the common of human life, and thereby it becomes commonized to skew its good news with a bias diminishing the bad news.  Thus, any proclamation of this gospel is a testimony by those who are competing with or contrary to the integrity of “my witnesses,” whereby they reflect, reinforce and sustain a weak view of sin underlying their human condition (cf. Mt 7:22-23).  Coupled with their incomplete theological anthropology lacking wholeness, their condition mirrors the human condition of their surrounding context; this certainly then biases their perception and understanding of any breach in that context, in particular, and in the broader human context in general.

            When the breaches in humanity are minimized or not even recognized, the need to proclaim the bad news has lost significance, or at least has become less urgent, perhaps unnecessary.  With this thinking, Jesus’ sword of peace enacted in the arc of justice is directly countered to neutralize what is assumed to be objectionable or inconvenient for the gospel.  That leaves the door open for the gospel to be proclaimed with only good news on a widely favorable path without the need to protest.  The most significant problem with the variable theology and practice of these so-called witnesses of the gospel is that it does not testify as “my witnesses.”

            “My witnesses” are accountable to “follow my whole person” and to be relationally involved “where I am” (Jn 12:26).  “Where I am” follows his sword of peace enacted in the arc of justice.  His early disciples struggled to be involved “where I am” or else they would have protested the Samaritan woman’s bad news together with his person (Jn 4:27).  Whether in his tender protest with the Samaritan woman or his intense protest cleaning out the temple, whether in the larger human context or the context among God’s people, Jesus’ whole person vulnerably countered these breaches in humanity with the justice of love, in order to bring the face-to-face justice of his gospel giving the relational outcome of just-nection. 

            These breaches cannot be remedied or repaired as if to reverse them but require redemptive change, wherein the old condition needs to die so that the new condition can rise to replace it.  Nothing less and no substitutes are capable of changing the irreversible breaches in humanity.

            “My witnesses” are accountable to “follow my whole person” and be vulnerably involved face to face together in love in the breaches of humanity “where I am,” so that these breaches can indeed undergo redemptive change for humanity’s transformation.  Throughout human history, the word of the Lord God “sought for anyone among his people who would  deal with the human condition and stand in the breach before me” (Eze 22:30).  The Word of the Lord continues to seek among Christians for “my witnesses to stand in the breach along side of my person.”  Otherwise, who will deal with the human condition and what will bring about its redemptive change for humanity’s transformation?

 

 

The ARC of “My Witnesses”

 

 

            Transformation is a misleading assumption that Christians frequently make about salvation. Related, many Christians calling for justice and working for peace are misguided to assume that their theology and practice are not composed by whole-less justice and peace. Change is the common issue here that calls into question what is the underlying change claimed and proclaimed.

            The issue of change emerges distinctly from the gospel. If that change doesn’t encompass the human condition and get to the heart of human life, what significance does that gospel have? If that gospel encompasses this change but is not reflected in those who claim or proclaim it, what significance does that change have? Certainly, then, this significance revolves around the disjuncture between our gospel and his gospel, and the change that emerges from it. This disjuncture in our theology underlies the disjuncture in our practice between the wide gate-road and the narrow gate-road, which Jesus clarified to distinguish his difficult relational path from other easier ways (Mt 7:13-14). Following his person is more complex, involving complex subjects, while easier ways are simplified to render persons to simple objects—whom Jesus corrected as those he doesn’t know (7:21-23).

            The change Jesus brings is difficult and never easy. Yet, when our view of sin doesn’t encompass reductionism or ongoingly fight against it, the counter-workings of reductionism exerts its subtle process of simplification on our identity and function, on the gospel and its outcome. Hence, the simplification of change in our persons, churches, and other persons and contexts of human life neither gets to the depth of their heart nor down to the fragmentary heart of their human condition; and simply asking for forgiveness is insufficient.  The process to initiate the change that Jesus brings unavoidably begins with two essential steps:

 

1.     By the nature of the change Jesus brings, persons must start by making themselves vulnerable from inner out, so that the heart of their whole person comes heart to heart with their full human condition.  This vulnerability necessitates removing any veils that keep them from facing their true, unembellished condition.
 

2.     When faced with their reality, persons by necessity must not only face up to it but also own up to it.  Taking ownership of a person’s true condition keeps the door open to change, which being vulnerable with one’s whole person opened.

 

When Christians are vulnerably involved to experience in their whole person the change Jesus brings, their persons (individually and together) are transformed to be “my witnesses.”  Then, we are faced with another unavoidable reality of his gospel: If we do not speak out for the uncommon turn-around change Jesus brings, we are accountable for our complicity in their injustice (as in Eze 33:7-8).

            The subtle simplifying of change becomes more evident when we examine the function of our theological anthropology. Consider this:

 

When our identity is measured by what we do and have, there is unspoken pressure to produce, progress, have achievements, and succeed in the work we do. The subtle influence of such pressure can cause strain and stress when we don’t demonstrate progress, achievement or success—intensified in its persistent comparative process of measurement. Under such conditions, in situations or circumstances where change is difficult to accomplish and its prospect may not be on the horizon, we become susceptible to simplifying change for easier or quicker results—results critical also to our identity.^[1]

 

Our rationale for simplifying change may be that ‘any change is better than no change’, and understandably so given the difficulty. But, our underlying motivation for easier and quicker results often involves having something to show for our efforts that would affirm our identity and not be rendered less in the comparative process—perhaps be considered “the greatest” as Jesus’ early disciples pursued.

            The testimony of those who enact Jesus’ gospel protest in the breaches of humanity are vulnerably involved with love on a distinctly uncommon trajectory.  Beyond the common ways of evangelists, social activists or pacifists addressing the variable human condition, “my witnesses” will deal face to face with the polarizing effects of humanity being reduced, fragmented, broken and enslaved at all its levels of human life.  This uncommon trajectory traverses the arc of justice with the sword of peace to embody “my witnesses” unequivocally in the uncommon function agents of redemptive change, the ARC of “my witnesses.”

            Change is usually implied in any conversation for the common good; and change is always an explicit or implicit goal for those calling for justice and working for peace. Change, however, in the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel is neither optional or temporary for human life, nor merely remedial for everyday life. The significance of change cannot be just a moment in time or involve just a movement of action. In Jesus’ gospel, significant change is the transformation of life (and lives), which is constituted by the redemptive change of both the old (i.e. the reduced, fragmented, bad, wrong, unfair, unjust) being terminated and the new (i.e. the whole, good, right, fair, just) raised up for the experiential truth and reality of the heart of human life and its essential order for all persons and relationships. Anything less and any substitutes for redemptive change reduce such change to conventional change. At best, the significance of conventional change is (1) temporary for the human condition because it doesn’t get to its fragmentary heart, and (2) fleeting for everyday life because it doesn’t involve the qualitative-relational heart of human life.

            The uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel offers, involves and requires redemptive change of reduced ontology and function in all its variations and forms in everyday life and at all levels of human life (including institutional, systemic and structural). This redemptive change encompasses the ontological simulations and epistemological illusions that compose our default mode. When his disciples’ everyday practice made evident their reduced ontology and function centered on human distinctions from outer in (“the greatest,” Lk 9:46; 22:24), he told them the whole truth: “Unless you change from inner out like vulnerable children, you will never belong to my kingdom family” (Mt 18:3). His truth, however, was not about conventional change merely from the outer in; outer-in change is the metaschematizō that even Satan promotes (2 Cor 11:14-15). The inconvenient truth of his gospel is the “turn-around change” (strepho) signifying the redemptive change of transformation from inner out (metamorphoo). Metamorphoo is the relational outcome constituting the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel, which Paul, on the one hand, made conclusive (2 Cor 3:18; 5:17) and, on the other hand, made imperative as the ongoing change necessary in order to be distinguished from the common (Rom 12:2). And as Peter would testify about the good news, the uncommon good offers, involves and requires nothing less than redemptive change of reduced ontology and function, the condition he persisted in; and that no substitutes such as conventional change are sufficient or acceptable for redemptive change, such as Peter attempted until his transformation.

            The need for change is basic to the human condition since the primordial garden. We all, then, need change, whether we seek, want or even recognize it; this need is innate to our human condition. More complex is the type of change required to meet this need. Since the beginning, however, the means for change utilized in the human context for changing the human condition have complicated both what is significant change and what brings significant change (e.g. the misguided tower of Babel, Gen 11:1-4). The gospel’s uncommon good clarifies and corrects what is needed for the human condition.

            First, the terms are clarified to avoid confusion or conflation of terms. Conventional change is common change, and redemptive change is uncommon change. That which is common is distinct to the human context, human life and its persons. Uncommon (or holy) distinguishes God and God’s relational context and process unique to God. The common and the uncommon are mutually exclusive and thus should not be confused with each other. Moreover, the common and the uncommon are incompatible and therefore must not be conflated. Since conventional change is common change, the extent of this change does not and cannot exceed the common. While our desire for or pursuit of change may not go beyond the extent of conventional change, our hopes for change often exceed common change. Likewise, those working for justice and peace tend to pursue the limits of conventional change, while their hopes and expectations usually exceed common change—notably true for Christians. It is problematic for those needing, wanting or working for change either to not understand or to ignore the extent of that change; and it is disappointing, frustrating, angering or depressing when their hopes and expectations for change are not fulfilled. But, this process reflects how conventional change gets confused with redemptive change, and, more importantly, how uncommon change is conflated with common change to mislead those needing and wanting change, as well as to misguide those seeking and working for change.

            Jesus clarifies for us: The change we use will be the extent of change we get. When his clarification is listened to, then his correction can be received.

            This critical clarification and correction were initiated by God in Babylonia, where God deconstructed the tower of Babel for the corrective purpose to expose the false hope of a common good and to dispel the illusion of its expected outcome from common change (Gen 11:5-9). God’s purpose wasn’t only to clarify and correct but also to prepare the way for the uncommon good to be received; and further integrated in God’s purpose, to enact the uncommon change necessary for this relational outcome to be whole and uncommon (whole-ly) as the experiential truth and reality in human life and its order for all persons and relationships.

            The tower of Babel predates the hopeful change that has evolved in two prime examples of recent history. One example counters what Jesus brings and the other example contradicts what Jesus gives, both of which compete with uncommon change and its uncommon good. The first prime example has a conflict approach to change, which could be confused with the sword Jesus brought. This is the Marxist ideology and its dialectic (thesis-antithesis-synthesis), which communism has implemented under the assumption that it will result in the synthesis for the greater good of the people. On the one hand, a conflict approach to change is warranted because significant change requires the old to be terminated for the new to emerge—which is the unequivocal purpose of Jesus’ sword. On the other hand, a Marxist-Hegelian dialectic does not merit affirmation of the means used for its end to bring about a synthesis. Its common thinking, explicitly or implicitly, is that the end justifies the use of its means, even if the means are wrong or unjust.

            The systemic use of power relations to enforce change formally breaks just-nection and officially legitimizes its injustice. This common thinking about “good and evil” relativizes what is right, and thereby promotes, reinforces and/or sustains the disabling of justice while enabling injustice. Therefore, the conflict approach to change of Marxist ideology (and all its variations) cannot be confused with the sword of uncommon change that Jesus brings:

 

The common’s conflict approach to change works variably to disable justice and to enable injustice, while the uncommon’s redemptive change serves invariably for the just-nection of all persons and relationships in wholeness; the former works under the assumption of serving the common good, while the latter serves only the reality of the uncommon good and thus works for the only good that distinguishes justice by Jesus’ gospel.

 

            The verdict on the Marxist-Hegelian dialectic has not been concluded because the jury on communist history is still in session. But, the synthesis for a new human order has had no indications of being nothing more than a false hope—not only in falling short of utopian expectations but with its dystopian consequences such as evolves from its forms of tyranny. Nevertheless, the anticipated victory for this hoped-for result has not stopped many from continuing to pursue this common change, likely in the absence of real hope for significant change. Variations of a conflict approach have adapted into many forms of protest (political, social, economic, religious, and the like) that have been aggressive (in both macro- and micro-aggression) and thus violent (even implicitly as Jesus defined in God’s rule of law, Mt 5:21-22). Even knowingly in their common thinking, their approach to change has adopted the principle of the end justifies the use of its means. These varying conflict approaches to change—which includes the adaptation of the Marxist dialectic in liberation theology—are still simply common change that should not be confused with the uncommon change Jesus brings.

            At the same time, this is not to say that the approach to change should be nonviolent. What does need to be said, however, is that when viewed through the lens of uncommon terms, the approach of nonviolence is an oversimplified notion of change, as difficult as this approach is to embrace and enact. Such change is unable to deal with the existing depth of the old even though it may address and confront the old, thus it merely acts as common change working for the common good. Consider this sensitive example, which various persons could have misgivings accepting. Though Martin Luther King’s nonviolent approach to change eventually included the global injustice of the Vietnam War, it never encompassed the sexism within the Civil Rights Movement to change the gender inequality existing among themselves—notably those proclaiming and working for the common good. In other words, change became selective and likely protective for those who didn’t want to be vulnerable from inner out.

            This makes evident the fact that Christians who advocate for nonviolent change distort what Jesus brings with his sword, either by common-ly idealizing it or by simply ignoring it. The consequence has been that the redemptive change needed, for example, to clean out God’s house has been absent, which has left the relational orphans populating churches without just-nection—leaving the church in the simulation of its practice and the illusion of its relationships together. This relational condition is not the uncommon good that Jesus’ gospel brings. The sword of Jesus signifies the intensity (not the violence) with which the battle against reductionism (the full scope of sin) must be fought. Thus, Jesus’ sword is the relational extension of God’s wrath in the OT. Contrary to common perception and thinking about God’s wrath, this intensity expressed the heart of God’s grief in relational response to the scope of sin as reductionism, which reduced persons and relationships from their wholeness created in the image and likeness of the Trinity. The heart of God’s grief first responded intensely to this reductionism with the flood, and only because of Noah’s wholeness (tamiym) was he saved from God’s intense battle against reductionism (Gen 6:1-9).  This unfolds the trajectory of “my witnesses’ from ‘the ark to the ARC’.

            God’s wrath and Jesus’ sword express the heart of the Trinity’s grief (as in Lk 13:34; 19:41-42) in the relational response necessary to bring the uncommon change for transforming the human condition and its fragmentary relational order. Therefore, the unavoidable reality facing Christian leaders and activists is this: The old is not eliminated without conflict and this conflict does not terminate without Jesus’ sword of uncommon change for only the uncommon good. Accordingly, even nonviolent approaches to change should not be confused with the uncommon change required for the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel (not our variations of the gospel).

            All the above approaches signify common change, which in one conventional way or another disable justice and enable injustice by reinforcing and sustaining the reduced ontology and function of the human condition. Moreover, any form of power relations at any level becomes an enabler of injustice and a disabler of justice (cf. Lk 22:24-26). Whether intentionally or inadvertently, these approaches counter what Jesus brings. The redemptive change brought by Jesus is the only good news to have integrally the whole and uncommon relational outcome for human ontology and function, and this whole-ly relational outcome is the uncommon good that Jesus gives.

            Secondly, contradicting the uncommon good that Jesus gives is the second prime example in recent history: globalization, as it has evolved from colonialism and been adapted from the Enlightenment. Countering the uncommon good brought by Jesus and contradicting this reality that he gave are not mutually exclusive but interrelated in critical ways. They are both problematic in their underlying reductionism that promotes and generates results different from Jesus’ gospel. Yet, it is one issue for conflict approaches to counter what Jesus brings by using a misleading or misguided hope, and a deeper, more complicated issue to contradict the uncommon good he gives by using a false hope.

            Analogous to the global effort by Babylonia to “build ourselves a global community” (Gen 11:4), political globalization evolved in human history to “make a name for ourselves.” The construction of this “name for ourselves” required (1) competing with the kingdom of God to rule the world, and (2) imposing its rule over others under the dominance of its sovereignty. This global process formed the dynamic of colonialism (or imperialism), which has been the prime political example that has disabled justice and enabled injustice—a dynamic generated often by the myth of the common good. As a subtle extension of the Roman Empire, Constantine (in the 4^th century) justified this dynamic with a false hope of building Christendom; and the U.S. has intensified the colonial dynamic by common thinking that amplifies the myth of Manifest Destiny and/or the false hope of democratic ideology—both illusions having justified the enabling of injustice that contradicts the uncommon good given by Jesus. Many Christians in the U.S. would either disagree with this assessment or feel very uncomfortable accepting it. But, then, they have to answer to the type of change they advocate and be accountable for its effects on their own lives, the church, this nation and the world. And the change they use and get from it have to be measured by the uncommon change for the uncommon good of the gospel that Jesus brings and gives.

            From political globalization has evolved economic globalization. The modern development of the economy distinctly adapted from the Enlightenment (around the 18^th century), which promoted two movements for human progress:

 

1.     The reliance on rationalized thinking to supposedly enlighten human 

     perception and action, which, on the one hand, would challenge human

     development beyond tradition but, on the other hand, would compete with

     the uncommon change that Jesus brings by substituting a secular worldview

     (secularism) to contradict the uncommon good Jesus gives.
 

2.     The emergence of modern science, which challenged traditional beliefs and

     the limits of their conclusions (e.g. the order of the universe) to both (a)

     justify secularism for human development and (b) prioritize the development

     of technology for human progress—the primacy of which has pervaded

     modern life and preoccupies (even dominates) persons over the primacy of

     relationships together.

 

By adapting in this evolutionary process, the economy underwent pivotal change with the Industrial Revolution (starting from the late 18^th century) and has since progressed (i.e. evolved) as energized by the natural (common) selection of the economy’s fittest components to survive. The economy’s survival of the fittest generates the economic colonialism necessary to empower the progress of the global economy, even over the objections of tribes and nations. Like political globalization, of course, this defining dynamic of economic globalization also contradicts the uncommon good that Jesus gives.^[2]

            Economic globalization, however, doesn’t survive by colonialism alone. The survival of its fittest has a much more subtle basis. Earlier, Jesus alerted his followers to what contradicts what he gives (the scope of Mt 6:19-32). What he defined is the mentality and lifestyle of consumers. Consumerism drives the common everyday life and practice that fuels economic growth; and the subtle the-more-the-better mentality and the explicit lifestyle of greed intensify consumer drive as mere objects manipulated and forged by economic promotion (as Paul alluded to, Eph 2:3). Economic globalization survives only by the consumption of its common goods, which it multiplies by creating the subtle need for convenience and efficiency. These human-shaped needs consume consumers—even at the expense of fulfilling their inherent human need basic to all persons—which economic globalization has now substituted as the prevailing source for

the good life. Moreover, discordant clouds are forming over the expanding scenario of the global economy, darkening its optimistic basis (1) on the misguided assumption that the earth’s natural resources can support unlimited economic growth, and (2) on the misleading assumption that all human labor benefits from capitalist development.

           Therefore, Christians need to awaken to the consuming reality enveloping our everyday life. The priority given to consumption, plus the pursuit of convenience and the search for efficiency, all reinforce and sustain economic globalization, and thereby also enable the injustice of its colonial practices and disable the justice needed for the care of all creation. Since we are all consumers in one way or another, wanting convenience and desiring efficiency to varying extent, the priority we give to these, even if not excessive, will determine whether or not we also contradict the uncommon good Jesus gives—as well as also counter the uncommon change he brings.

           Given these two prime examples of hopeful change and related variations of them on the personal or collective level, we are always faced with the significance of the change we use. This change is especially important for the goal of those calling for justice and working for peace. Significant change, however, is neither just a moment in time nor involving just a movement of action. How we think, see and act regarding change have to be challenged ongoingly by the distinction between common-conventional change and uncommon-redemptive change. All the issues about change converge in the vital difference between metaschematizō (outer-in change) and metamorphoo (inner-out change, as distinguished by Paul); and this critical distinction between the outer in and inner out cannot be confused with each other or conflated together, because they signify the incompatibility of human identity and function in either reduced terms or whole terms. The former involves common change and nothing more, and the latter involves uncommon change and nothing less.

            It should be evident in how we think, see and act that the type of change is crucial for the outcome desired, hoped for and expected. The self-evident reality is:

 

The change we use will be the extent of change and related outcome we get—which either at best serves only a common good variably defined, or at the least works for the uncommon good of all persons and relationships in wholeness.

 

Metamorphoo distinguishes the uncommon change necessary by its nature (not by duty or obligation) for the whole (not partial or fragmentary) relational outcome of the uncommon good that Jesus brings and gives (as in 2 Cor 3:18). Only inner-out change unequivocally distinguishes the uncommon from the common (as in Rom 12:2), and thereby constitutes the uncommon-redemptive change of the gospel (as in 2 Cor 5:16-17)—which common-conventional change is unable to bring and give, yet may try to simulate (as reductionism does, 2 Cor 11:13-15) or create illusions about (as Peter attempted, Gal 2:11-14).

            The agency of Christians has given witness to the world of an ambiguous gospel, a confusing faith and a suspect practice in everyday life.  How much of this supports the reality of Christians reflecting, reinforcing, sustaining, or at least being complicit with the human condition is a fact yet to be acknowledged, much less embraced.  Jesus, however, provides no room for negotiation of the trajectory of “my witnesses.”  Even stating being ‘his witnesses’ does not confirm being in the trajectory of “my witnesses.”  Only those enacting Jesus’ gospel protest in the breaches of humanity (including among God’s people), who deepen their involvement of love for humanity by functioning as agents of redemptive change, and who persevere through to its relational outcome of the redemptive reconciliation of just-nection, only these persons are vulnerably involved in reciprocal relationship together with Jesus’ person, thereby bringing justice to victory in the new relationships together of wholeness constituted by only “my uncommon peace I give to you” (Jn 14:27).

 

 

The Narrow Way of “My Witnesses”

 

 

            Reconciliation is a prominent term in Christian vocabulary.  It’s heard especially in the language of ministry, since Paul made definitive that we have been given the ministry of reconciliation by God through Christ (2 Cor 5:18-19).  These ministries typically have served merely to bring people together or get them back together; this assumes that that would reconcile people, implying thereby that God reconciled us by just getting us back together.  What is often underemphasized or overlooked, perhaps idealized as a heavenly outcome, however, is that the way of this ministry only unfolds when “the old has passed away and the new has come into being” (5:17).  That is, only on the narrow path of redemption does the way of reconciliation unfold to constitute the relational outcome of redemptive reconciliation.  Therefore, don’t be misinformed or misled on a wider path.

            Since the old precedes the new in the transformation process to reconciliation, the old has primary priority for the new to emerge.  This narrows down the course available for redemptive change, limiting the options.  With this sharpened view, our perception, thinking and understanding get focused on the primary. Then, the old of our human condition is the bad news of Jesus’ gospel that requires protest in order for any and all old in us to be redeemed and thus changed for the new to unfold in its narrow way.

            On the primary basis of his gospel’s narrow way, protesting the bad news is never optional but always  upends the bad news, so that the good news will be able to take effect from inner out, make a difference in the whole person and prevail in their relationships.  Thus, protesting itself is nonnegotiable in its function but is accountable to be enacted in face-to-face justice for the just-nection of persons in reconciled relationships both equalized (thus redeemed from distinctions) and intimate together in the wholeness of relationships constituted by the peace Jesus gives integrally with God’s definitive blessing.  Accordingly, “my witnesses” can only fulfill their purpose on the narrow way in their function as the ARC.

            In this relational context, on these relational terms and with this relational process, the integrity of proclaiming the gospel, Jesus’ whole gospel, is embodied and enacted in likeness by “my witnesses” vulnerably involved with their whole person in reciprocal relationship together. 

            At his ascension, Jesus communicated to his shepherds and sentinels that “you will be my witnesses…to the ends of the earth”—that is, “when the Holy Spirit’s person is relationally involved with you” (Acts 1:8). His witness (martys) is more than a common witness who has information or knowledge to confirm something. “My witnesses” possess the experiential Truth and relational reality of his face-to-face relational involvement with them in the primacy of relationship together that constitutes their just-nection. If this witness is limited to knowledge and constrained to referential information, such a witness has lost its substantive relational significance “just as I have loved you.” To prevent that relational loss, the Spirit’s person is present and involved in reciprocal relationship, in order to maintain, deepen and consummate the relational connection of Jesus’ witnesses to have the substantive relational significance to be distinguished by the likeness of his love in all parts of the world, at all levels of human life.

 

            Creation, the human condition, his gospel and salvation converge for just one and only one outcome. When they are fully understood, they integrate into the whole constituted by the Trinity. This integral picture of God’s whole is unmistakably distinguished from the common, in order to compose unequivocally without comparison the uncommon wholeness of all human life and its human order in the whole-ly Trinity’s image and likeness. This radical relational dynamic gets to the roots of life to embrace the heart of human life and encompass the fragmentary heart of the human condition in protest of its bad news.  Only that which is radical gets to these vital roots. Yet, because of its nature, those who are radical can only be uncommon, and this is problematic for most Christians who follow an easier path than Jesus’ intrusive relational path enacting the sword of peace in the arc of face-to-face justice. Since nothing less and no substitutes compose the inconvenient Word proclaiming the bad news-good news for human life and its order, the identity and function of “my witnesses” can only be distinguished by nothing less and no substitutes. The relational terms of his gospel are irreducible and nonnegotiable, even subtly with good intentions by ‘his witnesses’.

 

 

            Given that nothing less and no substitutes embodies and enacts Jesus’ whole gospel, as well as claims it and proclaims it, who among us today will stand in the breach as “my witnesses”?

            Jesus waits for our response—whether waiting to anoint our whole person (as promised in Acts 1:8) or to protest the fragmentary condition of our bad news.