By Jimi Calhoun.
This entry is the eleventh post in a series of bridge-building, theological-cultural reflections by Jimi Calhoun, Pastor of “Bridging Austin,” in Austin, Texas.
Not long ago, New Wine colleague John Morehead posted a picture of the book Our Tribal Future by David R. Samson on his Facebook page. It caught my eye because several leadership books once used the “tribal nature” concept to encourage organizational loyalty. This particular book argues that tribalism is fundamental to who we are and that the path towards a more conflict-free society is creating conditions that unite, not divide. Reading the book, I learned that a tribe’s identity and ethos aren’t accidents: they were forged over time and across place. We arrive at many of our religious and political views in the same way.
My work centers on bringing people together across differences of race, religion, ability, and culture. My ethical and societal critiques align with many liberal positions (race relations, inclusion, community support), yet I am your typical evangelical minister. Additionally, I am an ethicist, not a partisan political observer or commentator, which allows me to hold a moral and cultural worldview that is somewhat liberal while remaining theologically conservative. Out of necessity I work very hard to keep the internal bridge connecting the two congestion-free, allowing for travel in both directions.
Keeping It Real
There is another bridge that could use some decongesting: the one between time and place, which is the theme of this post. We often hear people quote Jesus in today’s political debates. That’s understandable, but at Bridging Austin, we think context matters deeply. Jesus spoke to real people in a real place at a real moment in history, and understanding that world should change how we hear his message. I cannot recreate that time and place, but I can help you connect Jesus’ worldview to your own life so you can better follow him today.
One example of what I am talking about can be found in Bridging Austin’s philosophy of ministry. We see everything we do each day as ministry. That can mean even the little choices made throughout a normal day, like smiling at a grocery store cashier who is overwhelmed by impatient shoppers while serving a long line. That’s ministry. Another example would be to become open to the proposition that God is more brokenhearted over a needy person’s circumstances than angered by their faulty decisions. Tough as it may seem, you can absolutely make that attitude become second nature in how you see those we call “the homeless.” To get there, let’s cross the bridge and travel back to Jesus’ time and place.
Sacred Land, Struggling People
Many historians, like John Dominic Crossan, among others, have noted that most Jewish people in Jesus’ day weren’t living comfortable, stable lives. They estimate that 85-90% were desperately poor and completely shut out of political power. Their experience had far more in common with today’s marginalized communities worldwide than with American middle-class Christians.
Here’s the problem: when we view ancient Christianity mainly through a Western lens and assume it’s universal, we miss something crucial. Christianity took root in African and Middle Eastern soil before heading northward. At Bridging Austin, we aspire to reflect Christ’s historical, unconditional love for the entire world, as he did; therefore, we strive not to distort that story.
Liberation Was Their Tribal Story
Let us take a step back and think about how first-century Christians perceived their faith. Much of the Jewish tradition that provided the launchpad for early Christianity centered on freedom and rescue—from slavery in Egypt to a hope that God would lift the Roman yoke. The Exodus shaped how the tribe of Israel understood God. So when Jesus talked about God’s kingdom arriving, his listeners heard echoes of that ancient liberation story.
That was the world Jesus lived in, and this is how he confronted its realities. He ministered among a tribe oppressed by a foreign power, speaking of peace, drawing on a prophetic tradition of hope and justice. His listeners understood what it meant to be powerless, unheard, and trapped by circumstances beyond their control. In response, he healed the overlooked, offered comfort, and shared meals with people in need. He stood up for those whom the powerful pressed down.
What That Means For Us
At Bridging Austin, we believe that prophetic ministry doesn’t come from positions of power—it comes from standing with those in pain, creating hope through love as a form of resistance to the endless wave of cultural pressure to see success and individual well-being as the natural outcome of a relationship with God.
Two thousand years separate us from Jesus’ time. Thousands of miles separate us from his place of birth, yet the parallels are striking. Poverty is everywhere around us, though sometimes hidden. Poor people are ignored by a culture obsessed with self-interest. We believe we can’t just sit by and watch people suffer while remaining silent.
This year will mark a turning point in how our community cares for those who struggle, as we join several global partners to raise awareness of the many unmet needs worldwide. We firmly believe that the ripples of what we start today will reach farther than we can imagine. That is why, for this calendar year, we are resolved to be full of hope: we’ll do everything we can to change thisrealityfor the sake of heaven. That’s what it means to bridge Jesus’ time and place with our own.
You may contact Jimi Calhoun at Jimi@Bridgingaustin.org.