When Monuments Come Down and We Realize Where Our Loyalties Lie

Written by Erin Richer

This morning, I woke up to the sound of quiet drips outside my window. Not fully conscious, my eyes still unopened, I already knew the gray filter of rain upon the day ahead. It’s Saturday so I got to slowly make my way into the day with a cup of coffee and relaxed conversation with my husband in the windowed corner of our living room. I turn briefly to confirm the mountains are cloaked by the clouds and find myself surprised by the joy the skyline of tall pine plumage still evokes. It’s a reminder that God is doing a work inside of me. One I’ve been praying for for over a month.

I thought the world broke around Covid-19’s burst onto the scene. But my individual world broke a little later with the film of Amy Cooper—the woman who weaponized the police against an innocent Black man in a park in New York City, intercultural capital of the world. Ever since, I’ve been wrestling, realizing I had way more identity and loyalty wrapped up in political ideologies and cultural constructs than I ever realized before. I’ve begun the shedding process and the sloughing is slow. But I can feel it happening; I’m becoming a new creation. 

Evidence surfaces as I observe the discourse surrounding monuments coming down and flags being changed. Four years ago, the arguments I made, the feelings I had were so different, so predictable. But my feelings and thoughts are changing quickly and drastically; it’s all been strangely unsettling. But…

I’ve been more immersed in Scripture than ever and I’m being changed by words—His Word—the way only a book that is alive can do. Almost every line on every page has been filled with reassurances that He’s doing a work in me. He’s re-centering me and my identity.

These final lines in Paul’s letter to his beloved believers have been resonating in me since our Dive group met last week. His words call to those of us in the midst of the cultural and political turmoil, because it’s an offering of peace.

He says: 

“The world has been crucified to me through the cross, and I to the world. For both circumcision and uncircumcision mean nothing; what matters instead is a new creation. May peace come to all those who follow this standard and mercy even to the Israel of God.”

To Paul’s audience, circumcision vs. uncircumcision was an outward manifestation of identification. It told the world which “camp” you staked your tent within. Today this can be easily translated into political, cultural, denominational, and familial identities. Paul asserts that all of that outward/physical identity was dead to him through the cross, and he to the world and its identities. Jesus’ crucifixion for the salvation of the world was his identity. Thus, Paul utters the blessing: “may peace come” to everyone who follows that standard, and mercy and kindness to the people of God. 

Peace comes when we follow this standard: devotion to Christ alone.

The world and all of its political, cultural, denominational, and familial identities must be crucified to us through the cross; and we must be crucified to those identities. All that matters is the new creation—the one who walks according to the Spirit, loving his neighbor as himself. These final words from Paul provide us a bearing. The degree of peace we feel in the midst of the world’s insanity is directly proportional to how much of our identity is wrapped up in Christ alone.

And so, these trees become more precious because God shows me how to use them as a touchstone. I’m now using them to remain centered in Him in the midst of news surrounding monuments made in the image of man. Our Bible reading plan this week brought me to the following passage in Isaiah 55:

“So you’ll go out in joy, you’ll be led into a whole and complete life. The mountains and hills will lead the parade, bursting with song. All the trees of the forest will join the procession, exuberant with applause. No more thistles, but giant sequoias, no more thorn bushes, but stately pines—Monuments to me, to God, living and lasting evidence of God.” (Isaiah 55:12-13 MSG)

As I look out my window this morning, clouds blocking my view from the mountains beyond, I remember this verse I read just two days ago. Each of those trees is a living and lasting monument to God—evidence of the everlasting God, and so I’m filled with peace. My identity—my devotion—is shifting to a singular and solid place and so my peace is growing. May peace come to all who follow this standard and mercy to all the people of God.

---