The world rushes on;
Much time spend in secret
With Jesus alone;
The life of William Dunn Longstaff, who wrote those lines, spanned most of the 19th century. His friends included Dwight L. Moody, who preached to overflow crowds in Longstaff's native England. When Longstaff heard Moody repeat a line from the I Peter: "Be holy because I am holy," he penned the poem that was sometime later set it to music, an oldie.
"We are called upon to emulate him in partaking of his divine nature and expressing his holiness (2 Peter 1:3-4)," or so the devotional accompanying the poem directs us. "The first stanza tells some of the things we can do to attain this holiness," it says. "We can spend time with the Lord is prayer, abide in his presence, feed on his word, fellowship with other Christians, and do good to others."
Sounds like old classic stuff, right? "Holiness," we read, "means to be separate from all that is common." I've heard that for years. So have you.
In Honduras, the Association for a Just Society (ASJ--they take their initials from their Spanish name) takes some liberties with that groundwork biblical principle, and does so, in part, because thinkers like Nicholas Wolterstorff make a convincing case when they say that when the Bible uses words like "holiness" and "righteousness," it is just as surely talking about what we think of as justice: "He leadeth me in paths of righteousness," says Psalm 23; but that line could just as easily be said this way: "He leadeth me in paths of justice."
And if that famous psalm did use justice, we'd likely read that famous line differently.
Instead of "be holy because I am holy," people like Wolterstorff claim we might say: "Be just because I am just," and harvest, thereby, meaning and intent different from the classic definition. Thus, "Holiness means to be completely separate from all that is common" doesn't work anymore, because justice doesn't walk away from all that is "common," instead, it embraces the ordinary.
Two years ago--and just before Covid--we were in Honduras, in great part to see, first-hand, the work of the AJS, which has become something of an industry there, dedicated researchers, journalists, and advocates who take forging a just society as a mission. We were deeply impressed and remain so.
Politics in Honduras recently took significant shift after the election that was something of an upset. The more conservative Nasry Asfura, whose National Party had been in power since ousting the previous government. Asfura was judged by many as corrupt. He went down in an a surprisingly spectacular loss.
The winner?--Xiomara Castro, the new President of Honduras, a woman, the first female President in the nation's history. Castro beat Asfura by landing 51 percent of the massive vote, to Asfura's 37.
People consider the election clear and convincing evidence of a new day dawning in Honduras.
At ASJ, the result was gratifying but a little scary. As a policy, AJS long ago determined to work with the government, no matter the government's leanings or even its record. They knew the new government could be wary of AJS because of what they might have been read as complicity with the corrupt National Party government.
But, one day after the election--just one day--ASJ received a call from the new government, who said the word on the street was out that ASJ had created a plan to reopen schools and thereby begin a return to normalcy after the long Covid siege. Would they be willing to talk for an hour or so with the new government?
That was an answer to prayer. AJS spent three hours the next day with the Libre people and were asked to return.
ASJ said they would love to return--and to help. Love to.
It's an amazing story, really, a miracle of hard and devoted work to be a witness in government, in politics, in the national life of the people of Honduras.
ASJ takes time to be holy all right, but it does so by way of justice, PTL.
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