Dreams Into Deeds

Murphy Davis preached the following sermon on April 26, 1992, on the occasion of Koinonia Partners' celebration of its 50th year. Held in Americus, Georgia, birthplace of Koinonia, the celebration was also a gathering of representatives from many faith communities, including Sojourners, who are kindred spirits to Koinonia and its founder, Clarence Jordan. - The Editors

As the Koinonia Community celebrates its 50th birthday, many of us who do not live at Koinonia join with those who do in celebrating the history and heritage of Koinonia. The witness of this community and the writings and teachings of Clarence Jordan have given birth to and nurtured many other communities and ventures in faith. Those of us who understand ourselves as children of the "Cotton Patch" vision join in the celebration of Koinonia's 50 years of life together and witness for the God movement on Earth as it is in heaven.

We've read from the Sermon on the Mount (with a smattering of James) because the sermon is what Clarence called the "platform" of the God movement. Its purpose, he said, was "not to evoke inspiration but perspiration."

You might notice that Clarence often used the word "maturity" in his Cotton Patch translations. Maturity seems like an appropriate topic for a 50th birthday party.

When we celebrate 50 years, maturity is an important issue: It's a time in the human journey to look back, to look forward, to make some clear (often hard) choices; a time to deepen roots, to sharpen focus, and enjoy the fruit of the freedom of being who we are with spontaneity and joy

What Clarence helps us to see with the Cotton Patch translations is that the gospels describe for us, and invite us into, a mature faith. And mature faith is a matter of focus, a matter of concreteness, a matter of action.

"Now faith," translated Clarence, "is the turning of dreams into deeds. It is betting your life on unseen realities. It is the activation of our aspirations. It is conviction translated into deeds. In short, it is the Word made flesh." Faith is "not a stubborn belief in spite of the evidence. It is a life in scorn of the consequences."

To mature is to deepen our roots in a focused faith; to set our hearts on the God movement. But we need to remember several things.

First, we don't find a whole lot of company, because it's a disciplined way. "Only a few," translates Clarence, "take this route." Going through the gate of discipline into the full life is hard, and the road is bumpy. There's hardly any need for traffic signals here, because there are just not a whole lot of folks on the road. Dorothy Day described it another way: "Those who can take it, take it. Those who can't, leave. And that makes room for more."

Second, maturing means becoming increasingly peculiar--resigning from the old order and joining the new order. If we love our enemies, if we see God in the poor and the outsider, we're peculiar; and that's just the polite way of putting it. As Clarence put it, "Don't even scalawags love their own kind?"

And third, maturity is rootedness, as in building a house on a rock, not on sand. It's building firm foundations. And the rains come down, and the floods come up, and the winds lash out, and they all beset the house and it does not fall. This rootedness means endurance to build the kind of foundation that keeps us hanging on through thick and thin.

So I want to talk about maturity, about keeping your eyes on the prize. Koinonia has just celebrated a mortgage burning with the homeowners of several houses built by Koinonia. Mildred Burton spoke for the homeowners of the gift of place and identity enhanced by having a home. She said, "I know where I come from, I know where I'm at now, and, thank God, I know where I'm goin'." It seems to me a good way to talk about maturity.

I Know Where I Come From

Where do we come from? In the South another way of asking that is, "Who your people?" James describes immature people as those who look in the mirror, then walk away and forget who they are. To be mature we have to know where we come from, who we are, and whose we are. A Cotton Patch approach might point us to the resurrection, the cloud of witnesses, and our particular history and call.

Clarence Jordan preached throughout his life that the resurrection is the key to our identity. Apart from the resurrection, fear is the only reasonable option and it overwhelms us and paralyzes us. Fear is "the polio of the soul which prevents our walking by faith," according to Clarence. But "the clue to triumph over fear lies in the power of the resurrection." The resurrection takes away the sting of death and leaves us with a painfully specific agenda. Clarence said:

The resurrection places Jesus on this side of the grave, here and now, in the midst of this life. The Good News of the resurrection is not that we shall die and go home with him, but that he is risen and comes home with us, bringing all his hungry, naked, thirsty, sick, prisoner sisters and brothers with him.

Resurrection life is not vaguely defined. It has to do with a very specific agenda. While on this Earth, Jesus Christ was a vagrant--a homeless wanderer who took up with an odd assortment of hookers, crooks, manual laborers, and petty government agents; the possessed, the addicted, the guilty, the rejected. These poor and despised knew that in this man, this teacher, they could find life, hope, and human dignity.

Then Jesus became a prisoner. He was on death row, prosecuted by the church and executed by the state. The resurrection leaves that journey with us. We are now to walk in the way of Jesus with the same sort of people, and with the very same hope in our hearts.

Our agenda is seeking justice in this broken world for those who are shut out, shut down, oppressed, and drained of human dignity. This solidarity is key to how God's Spirit empowers us to choose God over mammon, because a relationship with Jesus Christ in the flesh of the suffering and despised is a question not of theory but of daily life and people who have names. "Jesus is risen and comes home with us, bringing all his hungry, naked, thirsty, sick, prisoner sisters and brothers with him." The resurrection is key to knowing who and whose we are.

We learn whose we are by knowing our cloud of witnesses. (This gets us on down to the question: "Who your people?") And oh, Koinonia, what a tradition! What a cloud of witnesses! The Jordans, the Brownes, the Englands, the Johnsons, Witkampers, Mosleys, Melanie, Queenie, the Alexanders, Roger, Mary Ruth, on and on and on. There are so many from our shared past who by faith turned dreams into deeds--who bet their lives on unseen realities.

Remember Ora Browne? How can we begin to appreciate the courage of this woman who conceived the plan for the night watch when Koinonia was being shot at and burned? There was Ora, standing unarmed in the light on the road--waiting for whatever came: a witness, if ever there was one, of disarmed love, hospitality, faith, and courage. Thank you, Ora Browne.

They were spit on, locked up, beaten, ostracized, sent to the back of the bus, banned, tortured, boycotted, silenced, separated from their families, imprisoned, shot at, had their children taken from them, grieved as their children suffered. They were declared insane, locked away, fire bombed, shot down, burned out, machine gunned, voted out. All because they bet their lives on unseen realities. Because they dared to turn their dreams into deeds.

Because they dared to cry no! Enough! Stop the killing, repent of this racism, have mercy, we ain't gonna study war no more! Because they dared to follow the Prince of Peace. Because they dared to worship the God of life. Because they dared to let the Word be made flesh again to dwell in the world.

Because they dared to pray thy kingdom come--now, on Earth as it is in heaven--now! Because they dared to live their lives seeking God's justice and mercy and righteousness right now in scorn of the consequences. Because they kept their eyes on the prize, their hearts fixed on Jesus, and took up their own crosses and carried them, knowing that neither death nor life, nor powers nor principalities, nor things present nor things to come, could separate them from the love of God that is ours through Christ Jesus our Lord.

Because they knew that God's promises are good and rich and sure, and that God is pleased to give us the new order. What a gift--what a great cloud of witnesses, given to us--not to enjoy as a treasury of merit that excuses us from the hard road in the present because it was so hard here in the past. No, the cloud of witnesses is given to us so that we might grow up to be mature: focused, disciplined resurrection people, with our eyes on the prize as their eyes were on the prize, with our hearts set on the God movement as their hearts were set on the God movement. What a gift.

REMEMBERING THE PARTICULAR work and call of Koinonia becomes a resource for the maturity of the community. Yes, there is a call and a work peculiar to this place and these people. Koinonia was called from the beginning to live in Sumter County, Georgia, and from this place to stand on the front line of the battle for racial and economic justice.

Many things are different now and, yes, much of it thanks to the faithful witness of Koinonia. The boycott is over; there are no more bullets in the night; the Sumter County schools are integrated. There have been so many changes.

But let us not think for one minute that we have accomplished racial and economic justice here or anywhere. Our land is deeply scarred and torn by a deepening racial and class hatred and while some of our structures have changed, racism and class hatred are as insidious and death-dealing as ever.

I often remember my friend Jerome Bowden, a young African-American man who spent 10 years on Georgia's death row before he was executed. Jerome was clinically retarded, but he possessed a simple wisdom and clarity that often cut through the world's foolishness to get right to the heart of the matter.

On the day before he was scheduled to die in June 1986, Jerome was reflecting on some particular meanness of a guard toward a prisoner and he stopped with a puzzled expression and said, "You know, peoples was not made to dog around. Peoples was made to be respected."

But don't we know the sad litany of statistics of hunger, homelessness, infant mortality. Our institutions are crushing, controlling, and degrading human beings--"doggin' people around"--especially people of color. And in so doing they insult and diminish the hope and human dignity of us all.

In 1942, Clarence Jordan and Martin England sent a brochure to 500 folks to begin to raise the resources for the Koinonia Farm. In it they said: "Koinonia Farm hopes to make a contribution to the lives of all those who suffer and are oppressed; who are bound by ignorance and sin; and who are desperately searching for a way in the wilderness...."

The work of Koinonia is unfinished. Your particular call is active. The world so desperately needs you.

Thank God, I Know Where I'm Goin'

THE TASK OF MATURING means knowing where we're going. There are two things here that for us are really one thing, because our movement does not have space for the separation of ends and means. In other words, "where I'm goin'" necessarily has a whole lot to do with "where I'm at now."

Koinonia is traveling toward the Beloved Community--a just, loving, merciful society; the new order on Earth as it is in heaven. At the same time, Koinonia is a demonstration plot nowhere for the values of the new order. The connection between ends and means is well expressed in the Fellowship of Reconciliation slogan, "There is no way to peace. Peace is the way."

Community is the end. Community is the means. Living as a witness to justice, living on the front line. Standing in active solidarity with the poor and oppressed; the Vagrant Christ is our witness.

But we can count on the fact that people won't like it. You can hear a lot of folks look back and say, "Koinonia was so helpful in the '50s and '60s because their witness forced everybody to choose sides and take a stand." Well, it's real nice to hear that now, but at the time the people of Koinonia were pretty much alone. The main response they got for their witness was bullets through their homes and cars--past the children's heads and all around. It was doggone hard.

And the hostility from without does not come without an interior cost. Yes, the unity can be broken: It was, has been, is, will be. And oh, how the critics dance and giggle with glee when we fall out with each other. But the power of resurrection forgiveness, the power of love, the power and goodness of the promise of justice, generates energy and hope for community, and the cloud of witnesses helps us along the journey as we struggle to keep our eyes on the prize.

1985 was the all-time low point of our life at The Open Door Community. The community was all but dead. A number of people had left in anger. Those of us who were left were all mad at and disappointed in each other. In those days my husband, Ed Loring, called it The Open Sore Community, and the criticism was so hard and so heavy. Ed and I were burdened by it and weighed down.

One weekend we were down here staying in the guest apartment in the Jordan house talking with one of the Koinonia partners who had been particularly helpful to us at that point. Ed and I were griping and complaining about how unfair this, that, and the other person were being to us. (Clarence translated James to say, "The tongue is hell's blow torch.")

Ron let us talk but finally he stopped us and said, "Why are you so worried about what other people think and say about you? You're letting the criticism and hostility control you. My impression is that when the bullets were flying at Koinonia, Clarence just ignored them and went on."

It stopped us. It was exactly what we needed to get our bearings again, to get our eyes back on the prize. This brother called on the cloud of witnesses to call us back to the vision, and we're forever grateful.

I Know Where I'm At Now

FINALLY, TO GROW UP to be mature in the faith, to keep our eyes on the prize, we've got to know where we are now. Part of being mature and focused is being ready here and now to believe, to act, and to take the consequences. "Faith," as Clarence would say, "is life in scorn of the consequences."

Dallas Lee wrote in The Cotton Patch Evidence:

The ultimate level of maturity reflected in the conversion process was the ability to suffer all manner of harassment and persecution. Clarence often remarked: "I don't think [any Christians are] worth their salt who have not been called Communist today. Trying to refute that epithet is about like running for your birth certificate when someone calls you an s.o.b."

But when we start talking about conflict and enemies the sisters and brothers get sweaty palms. Don't we? We get real nervous. Rather than loving our enemies we concentrate on not having any enemies. We'd much rather avoid the conflict and the criticism. We'd rather choose the route of good manners, a lukewarm "be nice to one another," so that we avoid the scandal of having an enemy and the difficulty of loving the enemy.

Dorothy Day so often reminded us that love in dreams is beautiful but love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing. If we really believe and live a resurrection faith, the scriptures guarantee that we will be hated--we will have enemies. And they will lie about us just like they lied about our foremothers and fathers. In the midst of the worst violence--shootings, bombings, threats, and curses--Koinonia was always blamed as the cause of the violence and discord.

When you are real people of peace--this is the way it is. Koinonians were actually accused of shooting at themselves and beating themselves up to gain public sympathy. That's why Jesus says, "Blessed are you. You are God's people when others call you names, and harass you, and tell all kinds of false tales on you just because you follow me. Be cheerful and good-humored, because your spiritual advantage is great. For that's the way they treated people of conscience in the past."

In the mid-'70s, Earl Charles lived for three-and-a-half years under a death sentence in the Chatham County Jail, a stinking, rat-infested dungeon, for a murder he did not commit. When he was finally proven innocent and got out of jail, I said, "Earl, how did you make it? What did you do to survive?" And Earl said quietly, "I would get up every morning, wash my face, get dressed, look in the mirror, and say, "Today might be the day of my freedom, the day I go home."

That's the way we have to live--ready for whatever comes. "God is not in heaven and all's well on the Earth. God is on this Earth and all hell's broke loose." The way Bob Dylan puts it is, "Anybody not busy being born is busy dying." Isn't that what this celebration is about? To help us keep on being born?

Shortly before he died, Clarence said: "I just have the feeling we are standing on the brink of discovery of gigantic forces, and we are afraid of them. We are at a banquet table laden with bounties and we are doodlebugging around trying to decide if we want cream of wheat or cold cereal."

Happy Birthday, Koinonia. The banquet table is spread, so celebrate the birth. Celebrate the beginnings. Remember the stories with laughter and tears.

Let the memory dig deep wells of hope in our hearts and in the very heart of Koinonia, and then let's get busy being born.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares we have already come. 'Tis grace has brought us safe thus far.

And grace will lead us home.

Murphy Davis was director of the Southern Prison Ministry and a member of the Open Door Community in Atlanta, Georgia when this article appeared. Visit Koinonia Partners online at www.koinoniapartners.org.

Cotton Patch Scripture

When Jesus saw the large crowd, he went up the hill and sat down. His students gathered around him, and he began teaching them, and this is what he said:

The spiritually humble are God's people, for they will see their ideas become reality. They who are gentle are God's people, for they will be God's partners across the land.

They who have an unsatisfied appetite for the right are God's people, for they will be given plenty to chew on. The generous are God's people, for they will be treated generously.

They whose motives are pure are God's people, for they will have spiritual insight. People of peace and good will are God's folks, for they will be known throughout the land as God's children. They who have endured much for what's right are God's people; they are citizens of God's New Order.

You all are God's people when others call you names, and harass you, and tell all kinds of false tales on you just because you follow me. Be cheerful and good-humored, because your spiritual advantage is great. For that's the way they treated people of conscience in the past.

You all are the earth's salt. But now if you just sit there and don't salt, how will the world ever get salted? You'll be so worthless that you will be thrown out and trampled on by the rest of society.

You all are the world's light; you are a city on a hill that cannot be hid. Have you ever heard of anybody turning on a light and then covering it up? Don't you fix it so that it will light up the whole room? Well, then, since you are God's light which God has turned on, go ahead and shine so clearly that when your conduct is observed it will plainly be the work of your Creator.--Matthew 5:1-16

Be doers of the word. Don't kid yourselves by being listeners only, because if people listen to the word and don't act on it, they are like folks looking at themselves in a mirror--they look themselves over, walk away, and then forget what they looked like.

But when somebody takes a good look at the mature idea of freedom and hangs on through thick and thin, not being a wishy-washy hearer but a person of action, such a person will be really happy in their work.--James 1:22-25

From Cotton Patch Version of Matthew and John and Cotton Patch Version of Hebrews and the General Epistles, by Clarence Jordan (New Century Press, 1970, 1973).