Justus would be a great baby name, occurred to me on my first read of this Sunday’s lectionary passage from Acts. Then I considered the poor kid’s lineage: being traced to the one nominated, but not chosen. Forever the groomsman, never the groom. Who wants that for their kid? Acts 1:15-17, 21-26 settles in the pocket of time between Jesus’ ascension and the Holy Spirit’s arrival at Pentecost, an interesting and anxious space to dwell. What will God’s people do without direct divine guidance? Who will they choose to replace Judas? How will they choose? When the 120 believers were considering candidates, the driving question seemed to be, “Who do we know?” Justus and Matthias were nominated because they’d been with Jesus from the day of his baptism. The text says nothing of their leadership qualities, their public speaking or people skills, nothing even about them looking like leaders — tall, good posture, thick head of hair, and a well-kept beard, I imagine, because this is the ancient Middle East. All we know is that they were nominated because they were known. Oftentimes, this is the driving question of all our nominating processes. Who do we know? we ask, quickly shrinking the pool of candidates to our personal circles. One of my goals as the editor of the Outlook is to diversify our contributors and recruit new writers. To achieve this, I need to look beyond my personal circle of writers, pastors, biblical and theological scholars. Instead of asking, “Who do I know?” I try asking, “Who don’t I know?” Who is out there with gifts of which I am unaware? Who would contribute something worthwhile, who has yet to be asked? Whose talents has the Outlook left untapped? ... Read the rest of the commentary on the website. | 
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