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The Politics of Jesus

The Politics of Jesus

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The Politics of Jesus

201 pagine
4 ore
Oct 18, 2016


Was Jesus a politician of His time? His disciples desired Him to be. Instead, Jesus shattered the glass ceiling on politics to display a focus on a kingdom that was not of this world.

In the The Politics of Jesus, author Charles Tuttle offers a fresh perspective on politics by contrasting Jesus’ political outlook with America’s hot button issues surrounding party affiliation, immigration, marriage, discrimination and identity politics.

Unique in this political book, The Politics of Jesus provides a political composite of the twelve disciples and modern American Christianity leading to a full understanding on how to objectively think through political issues and scriptural conflicts.

Challenge your convictions and begin political conversations by reading The Politics of Jesus.

Oct 18, 2016

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The Politics of Jesus - Charles Tuttle


Chapter 1


WHEN OUR THREE children were young, we watched many animated movies. One of my favorite scenes comes from the 2007 Disney Pixar movie, Ratatouille. The setting is France, and the story features a rat named Remy and a chef named Linguini, who cooks sauces and soups at Gusteau’s Restaurant.

Remy has a big dream, and that dream is to be a chef. Remy has only one problem. He’s a rat, and rats are not allowed in restaurant kitchens. Linguini also has a big dream of owning his own restaurant. There is only one problem: Linguini is a terrible chef and is all thumbs in the kitchen. He’s never cooked much of anything. He is very uncomfortable in the kitchen. However, Remy the rat gives Linguini the ability to cook by directing him from atop his chef hat.

Because of Remy, Linguini is becoming a renowned Paris chef, famed for his incredible soup and dishes. This cartooned adventure only gets more tense as Ego, the renowned Parisian food critic, walks into Gusteau’s for a bite to eat and a culinary review. Ego is one of the main villains in the movie. He is the most austere food critic in Paris. His reviews cause restaurants to either flourish or fail. Now, on a night when nothing seems to be going right in the kitchen, Ego steps inside Gusteau’s Restaurant.

Mustafa, the waiter, recognizes Ego as he is seated. The scene begins with Mustafa gathering his courage to speak with Ego. Mustafa is nervous and experiences an immediate loss of confidence. Mustafa knows the kitchen is struggling. He tries to hide his nervousness as he draws a deep breath, gathering courage to approach Ego’s table.

Mustafa walks up and greets Ego. Ego’s head is buried in the menu. When Mustafa inquires as to what Ego would like to order, Ego replies with an apparent tone of condescension that he is craving a little perspective.

Mustafa is confused. Ego then snaps the menu closed and, sounding more definite this time, requests some well-seasoned perspective. Mustafa remains baffled. He timidly inquires again about Ego’s menu selection. Ego’s response is still focused on perspective. Mustafa is looking bewildered, trying to determine what dish on the menu Ego is wanting.

So Ego replies something like this, If you’ll provide the food; I’ll provide the perspective.

This is by far one of my all-time favorite moments in any movie, whether animated or, as my kids used to say, Made with real people. This exchange captures a great value in life: that value is perspective. Perspective brings accuracy to life. In the absence of perspective, the future can become very deceptive. In our modern era, one of the traits most lacking in our culture is accurate perspective.

So, if you as the reader will permit, let’s begin with a good dose of perspective. As you read this chapter, you may see the last four decades very differently or perhaps somewhat similarly. Obviously, my perspective is only that, and it’s somewhat personal. Your perspective may be completely different, which is fine.

The goal is to give a childhood to adulthood perspectives on culture shifts. Let’s look at cultural shifts like race relations, political correctness, voter identity, social engineering, re-gendering, modern social-justice theology, and a few other issues. Turn the pages and join me on a journey that has been half a century in the making.


Sometimes, I miss being a kid. The world of my childhood was comfortable, uncomplicated, and predictable. Boundaries were clear, and violations were obvious.

As children, we didn’t deal with racism, income equality, transgender issues, the underserved, situational ethics, the environment, or a host of other current political issues and ideologies. Even though these things may have existed in the adult world, we were just kids. In our world, we had words like white people, black people, rich people, poor people, bullies, goof-offs, weirdo’s, freaks, hippies, girlie-boys, teacher’s pet, yes sir, no ma’am, and it depends.

Mostly, we had rules and structure. We didn’t have time-outs for contemplation; our parents did not count from one to three before moving toward us to administer discipline. They usually moved as quickly as we did, and if by chance, we did get away, we received spankings, groundings, or both when they caught us! Discipline was administered with an expectation of immediate behavioral and attitude change!

In our world, there was no such thing as tolerance. Anytime we said a word that was offensive or crude, Mom was there to wash our mouths out with soap. Kids in the neighborhood didn’t care about skin color, origin, race, or ethnicity. We had no clue about the existence of things like prejudice, racial tension, white privilege, discrimination, micro-aggressions, sex education, or feminism. We cared about the deeper values of life like catching a ball, running faster, swinging a bat, riding skateboards, racing bikes, throwing snowballs, or building a fort. We grew up thinking it was pretty normal for Anglos, African-Americans, and Hispanics to play together because that was our life.

We had gender-specific games, roles, and toys. Girls played with dolls or make-believe kitchen appliances; boys played sports or with toy guns. As boys, we would shoot each other with imaginary bullets and make real-life sound effects ourselves; we’d pow, pow, pow, and then fall dramatically to the ground as if we were meeting our Maker. After a few dramatic fake deaths, we’d take a gun battle break to drink Kool-Aid® and down a cupcake. We played dead; we played army; we played cops, robbers, and zombies. We played rock music, competing in outrageous air-guitar and air-drum battle contests. Candy cigarettes were cool, and baseball cards were better than money. Yep, sometimes I miss those days.

At recess, we played hard. After school, we played even harder. We didn’t have video games, hand-held devices, social media, selfies, or Instagram. We had bus-stop challenges and dares. At school, we had real playground equipment that required physical activity, imagination, and competence. Monkey bars and slides were the stuff legends were made of.

The school cafeteria served ice cream, and we could bring a can of soda in our own cartoon-covered lunch box. Individually wrapped candy or gum was traded undercover at recess or passed under the desks in the classroom, like some made-for-TV movie drug deal. There was no food patrol, nutrition czar, or sugar-police.

We were just kids growing up, having fun and stirring up trouble. We made paper airplanes, paper footballs, and paper finger-folders that had mystery words written on the inside of each fold. The holder of the finger-folder counted through a numerical code, a rhythm, or recited a poem that caused a mystery word to appear. Most everyone believed in a silly kind of way that whatever word was written on the finger-folder would definitely come true. Boys were called boys, and girls were called names because they carried cooties. Honestly, we never saw a cootie or even knew what one looked liked; we just knew girls had them, and boys didn’t. At times, I sort of miss those

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