[Note: It's time once again for my annual Halloween/Jack-Chick-bashing post.]
Every autumn Christians throughout North America engage in hand-wringing disputes over what to do about Halloween. The discussions tend to reflect in microcosm how we interact with overtly secular aspects on a larger scale. Should we separate and stand apart, becoming a witness by or disengagement or do we participate and attempt to redeem the event by acts of hospitality and neighborly love?
Last year my friend Bonnie from Intellectuelle adds a thoughtful contribution to the discussion, one in which I must confess to be in almost total disagreement with. But one section in particular caught my attention:
I think it could be wishful thinking to say that we can "redeem" Halloween by trick-or-treating in good will. It may not be expressive of good will toward those who do not understand the truth of spiritual matters. Again, aren't we endorsing the holiday itself by participating in it? The only alternative to non-participation is to hand out leaflets containing the history of Halloween (with appropriate verses of Scripture, plus a candy bar) or tracts to trick-or-treaters...but whether or not that is neighborly is a debate in itself. [emphasis added]
Reading that sentence about handing "tracts to trick-or-treaters" sent chills down my spine and reminded me of the most frightful man ever to be associated with Halloween: Jack Chick.
While you may not recognize the name, if you've ever used the restroom of a truck stop then you've probably seen his work. Chick produces tracts and comics that look like work that R. Crumb would have produced had he attended Bob Jones University. For over twenty years the tracts have been used to spread such Christian messages as Catholics are going to hell and that the Holocaust was a Jesuit-led inquisition against the Jews.
To me, though, Chick is not just another anti-Catholic bigot. When I was a kid Jack Chick was the man who was responsible for more nightmares than the Twilight Zone and Kolchak: The Nightstalker combined. Chick not only scared the hell out of me, he made me afraid that hell was all around me.
While his comic books are less well known than his tracts, they were a primary source of literature around my fundamentalist church. In a typical display of twisted '70s fundie logic, our congregation believed that comics about Satan and the occult were more wholesome than reading about Spiderman or Archie and Jughead.
One comic that still gives me the creeps is "Exorcists", a tale of young boy who prays to Satan and becomes possessed after falling asleep. Being a Christian I knew that I didn't have to fear about demons taking over my body. But I wasn't so sure about some of my heathen friends. Anyone who was sleeping over my house was quickly sent home for so much as mentioning a Ouija board or humming Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven."
It's been twenty years since Chick tracts damaged my fragile psyche but it appears that some otherwise well-meaning Christians are willing to subject a whole new generation to this horror. The Chick Publications website even has a list of "unique ways you can use Chick tracts this Halloween" such as:
When Trick-or-Treaters parade to your door this Halloween, drop a couple of Chick tracts in their bag, along with some candy. Or, to really get them excited, stock a tray with several different Chick tracts. (See suggested tracts.) When children arrive, place the tray in front of them and let them pick any two tracts. (Be sure to give them candy too.) Kids love receiving unique gifts, like cartoon tracts. And they love picking the ones they want. Your home could be their favorite stop of the night. With Chick tracts, you can witness to every child who comes to your door. Plus, they'll take the tracts home, where their parents will read them too!
Having to take a evangelism track in order to get a bite-size Snickers bar normally wouldn't be such a bad tradeoff. But let's take a look at one of the "suggested tracks" and what is being offered to impressionable children.
Boo tells the story of students from Salem High who rent a cabin in the woods for their class Halloween party. Fortunately for them, thirteen people were murdered the previous Halloween so they get the place at a cheaper rate.
A surprise? A keg of beer? A couple of fifths of whiskey? Some bottles of cheap wine? Nah, it's not that kind of party. The kids at Salem High are into the newest trend:
...sacrificing animals to Satan! Oh, and the dude with the pumpkin and the snake on a rope? That's Lucifer himself. Why the devil needs a chainsaw, Chick never makes clear. I mean he's got a snake on a rope. Isn't that enough to do the trick?
It appears Satan found his chainsaw after all. So now we have a high school kid ready to sacrifice a kitty while a pumpkin-headed demon reenacts the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Let me just say that if anybody were to drop this tract into my kid's candy bag I'd be paying that house a return visit. And I'd be bringing my own snake on a rope.
The story takes a weird twist when Satan goes down to a village church. His chainsaw must have run out of gas because instead of trying to chop up a young kid, he simply "Yaaaaaah" at him.
Satan sure has some mouth on him, don't he? Anyway, the next day the kid asks his pastor about Halloween. Oddly enough he forgets to mention that he went toe-to-toe with Lucifer the night before. The preacher gives the kid a brief intro to demonology before explaining the origin of Halloween.
None of this, of course, is true. Halloween is the holiday equivalent of Wicca -- a 20th century invention that pretends to have ancient pagan roots. Halloween has nothing to do with Samhain, a Celtic agricultural festival that marked the beginning of winter. There is also no evidence that Samhain was a celebration devoted to the dead or to ancestor worship, much less to kidnapping, human sacrifice, playing with chainsaws, or walking with snakes on a rope.
I think it's safe to say that if the Lord hates Halloween then he must despise Chick tracts. When a well-intentioned but overzealous Christian gives these "comics" to a child it must be, as Chick would say, a "slap in the face." If you are the type of person who does this on Halloween I only have one word to say to you: repent.
Irrational fear is an overrated motivational tool, especially when you're trying to win the hearts and minds of children. Just look at my example. Twenty years later I'm still creeped out by the thought of the Chick comics. While they might have had the intended impact -- to scare the living hell out of me -- they did so by appealing to an unnecessary fear of Satan. If a Christian really wants to show a child the light of God's grace then they should do so by showing them God's love rather than by giving them the hateful, disgusting, and demonically-inspired work of Jack Chick.
"I believe in an Almighty God," said President Bush in an interview with Al Arabiya, "and I believe that all the world, whether they be Muslim, Christian, or any other religion, prays to the same God. That's what I believe."
The President's attempt to promote a monotheistic ecumenism among the world's religions is noble but misguided. Neither Muslims nor Christians (or as I hope to show, Jews) believe that we "pray to the same God."
At the risk of overcomplicating the issue, let's examine the claim by putting it into a logical structure. The Muslim's argument, based on the Qu'ran, can be put in the form of a (modus ponens) syllogism:
1. {If P then Q} If you believe that Jesus is the begotten son of God, then you do not believe in the one true God (See Note 1: Qu'ran (Sura 112))
2. {P} Christians believe that Jesus is the begotten son of God. (See Note 2: John 3:16)
3. {Q} Christians do not believe in the one true God.
Note 1: Qu'ran (Sura 112) -- "Say: He is God, The One and Only; God, the Eternal, Absolute; He begetteth not, Nor is He begotten; And there is none Like unto Him."
Note 2: John 3:16 (KJV) -- "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."
While I doubt the President was aware of this argument, I'm sure that he would agree this is a valid argument with true premises. He should also, therefore, agree that from the Muslim perspective, we do not all pray to the same God.
But the most that can be inferred by that conclusion is that Muslims do not believe Christians and Muslims worship the same God. A slightly more complex argument is needed to prove that Christians (at least those Christians, like evangelicals, who believe the Bible is authoritative) also should not subscribe to this view:
1. P -- The Gospels of Matthews and John make accurate claims about what Jesus said.
2. Q -- Everything Jesus said was true.
3. R -- Jesus said that he is the begotten son of God. {John 3:16, 1, 2}
4. S -- Jesus said that you can know the Father, if and only if you know him first. {John 8:19, Matt. 11:27 1, 2}*
5. T --> U -- If you deny that Jesus is the begotten son of God then you do not know Jesus. {Modus Ponens, 1, 2, 3}
6. U --> V -- If you do not know Jesus then you do not know the Father. {Modus Ponens, 4}
7. T --> V If you deny that Jesus is the begotten son of God then you do not know the Father. {Hypothetical syllogism, 5, 6}
8. W -- Muslims deny that Jesus is the begotten son of God. (Qu'ran (Sura 112) -- "Say: He is God, The One and Only; God, the Eternal, Absolute; He begetteth not, Nor is He begotten; And there is none Like unto Him.")
9. T & W -- You deny that Jesus is the begotten son of God and Muslims deny that Jesus is the begotten son of God. {Conjunction, 5, 8}
10. W --> V -- If Muslims deny that Jesus is the begotten son of God then Muslims do not know the Father. {Simplification, Modus Ponens, 7, 9}
If this argument is valid then it proves that Christians and Muslims do not pray and worship the "same" God. The problem is that agreeing with #6 implies that Jewish believers--at least since the time of Christ--also do not worship the "same" God.
This is precisely what I believe.
One of the basic axiomatic truths of Christianity is that God is Triune. While this is a difficult doctrine that no one fully comprehends, all orthodox Christians agree that Jesus is not merely a 'part' or 'attribute' of God but is one of the three persons and that all are God and all are one. A Christian cannot speak of 'God' without including both Christ and the Holy Spirit.
We also should not claim that, though Jews have an incomplete knowledge of God, they worship the "same" God as Christians. For it is not that Jews are unaware of Jesus; it is that they reject him. They believe it is blasphemous to claim that Christ is the same person as God. Christians, if we are consistent with our belief in the triune Godhead, will say that it is blasphemous to claim that that Jesus is not God.
To do otherwise is to either deny the validity of our belief in Christ or dismiss the Jewish belief that he is not divine. In essence we are claiming either that Jews are ignorant concerning the person they claim to worship or that it is possible to worship God and exclude Christ. In my opinion, both of these options are unacceptable.
Most Jews (and Muslims) are aware of the person of Jesus Christ, aware of the claims made about him in the New Testament, and have concluded that the claim concerning his deity are false. While I disagree with their conclusion, I trust that they have justified reasons, at least in their own minds, for why they reject him as Lord. We do all believers a disservice, when like President Bush, we resort to a "bait and switch" theology-- claiming that we all worship the same God and yet adding an element on which the other religions find abhorrent.
Religious liberty is a divinely permitted freedom. As Christians it is our duty to speak the truth in love and to deal maturely with genuine disagreements. The ideal of religious tolerance is not to agree to the lowest common beliefs but rather to show respect due to fellow humans made in the image of God. By glossing over our theology with a layer of politically correct ecumenical agreement we are being 'intolerant' of both Islam and Judaism.
During the week I get so busy that I never find the time to be alone with God. So I've decided to dedicate this evening to prayer, solitude and study.
But before I get started I should check my e-mail so that I won't have any unwanted distractions. Thirty-two new messages? My inbox was already overflowing so I should probably reply to at least a few of these right now.
Six emails — no, wait, I really need to answer that one too — OK, seven emails down. Ah, I just got some invitations from Facebook. Those are easy to clear out so let me click through to accept those and I'm, hmm, I didn't realize I had more notifications.
Looks like Stacy finally launched a blog; I'll just click through really quickly to check it out. A lot of posts on here already, some great stuff. I really should add her blog to my RSS reader before I forget. I don't know how I ever read blogs before Google Reader came along and, what, "More than 100+ items?" Didn’t I just check this yesterday? I know this is prayer time, but I should really whittle these down a bit before it gets worse.
Here I was about to focus on prayer and Bible study and what do I find? My favorite theology-blogger has an excellent post on spiritual disciples. I have to share that with my own blog readers. That's a topic that's really on my heart today — and since I'll be praying and studying in just a few more minutes anyway — I'll go ahead and crank out a quick post.
And ... send. There that should be ... hmm, looks like some comments are hung up in my spam filter again. Ah, it's always that same guy — and, oh man, there he goes again misrepresenting what I wrote. Well, I can't let that go unchallenged. Fortunately it will only take a few more minutes to write a rebuttal.
OK, now its time to finally buckle down and practice some solitude. Let me check the time on my Blackberry — no way, it's been four hours? — and who are these voicemails from? I better check them in case its someone from work calling, which would be really rude since this is Sunday, and I told everyone that I now devote Sunday to church and prayer and Bible Study and — no, it wasn't work, it was my buddy asking if I got his e-mail. All right, that's it. I really need to spend some quality time with the Lord.
But before I get started I should check my e-mail....
Read the rest here.
"For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes..." -- Romans 1:16
Dr. Russell Moore, Dean of the School of Theology at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, answers the the question, “What is the Gospel?”
(HT: Dean's Class)
"Of making many books there is no end," moaned the Preacher. Soon their will be one more tome to add to that lamentation. Yesterday John Coleman and I officially agreed to a contract with Crossway Books to publish our book, How to Argue Like Jesus. The book examines communications, persuasion, and rhetoric using Christ as the exemplary model.
First, I should say that it's a great honor for us novice authors to share the same publisher as Francis Schaeffer, R.C. Sproul, and John Piper (not to mention Tim Challies, Andrew Jackson, and Mark D. Roberts). Crossway was my first choice when I considered a publisher so it is thrilling to have them make such an offer. John and I are extremely grateful to everyone who gave us this incredible opportunity.
Second, I want to thank John for bringing this project to fruition. Back in January I mentioned to him that I had an idea for a book but that I lacked the discipline to write it on my own. John offered to help me out and I eventually suckered him in to being a co-author. (A tip for aspiring writers: If you're a procrastinator with limited writing ability, it helps to partner with someone smart, sharp, and disciplined. It certainly worked for me.) Even though he had a full-time job at McKinsey and Co., the world's most famous consulting firm, and was preparing to move to Boston to attend Harvard Business School(!), John found the time to write, edit, fix my sloppy contributions, and shape it all into a publishable work. I'm deeply grateful for his help.
Third, I want to say how much I appreciate those of you who unknowingly contributed to this book (you'll see your name in the acknowledgments).
Fourth, and most importantly, I want to thank God for being with me throughout this process. Even if no one else is edified by our work, it forced me to delve deeper into Scripture. My appreciation for Christ is magnified greatly by focusing on his genius.
We're polishing up the final draft so it shouldn’t affect my blogging as much as it has the past few months. I'll keep everyone posted on the details as I move forward on this exciting new venture.
Last week Dr. John Mark Reynolds and the group L.O.S.E. (Lovingly Opposed to Sin and Evil) gave us "Ten Commandments for Evangelical Leaders in Politics" and the position paper God is not a Republican or a Democrat from the group L.O.S.E. (Lovingly Opposed to Sin and Evil). This week he's back with L.O.S.E's second position paper, "A National Apology for Our Existence":
The worst thing about non-academics is their desire to make simplistic judgments about blame.
Non-academics think that if a Christian does a good thing because of the teachings of Jesus, that Christianity should get credit for it. Think of the result!
Thousands of years of hospitals, the rising tide of civil and political rights, the development of modern science, the creation of the university system, most of the foundations of Western art and literature: all of this would have to be credited to Christianity.
Think of the chances for pride.
Secularism, on the other hand, has not done much.
Think of their chances for humility. Wouldn’t you rather be a secularist without the temptations of our vast cultural accomplishments?
There is good news. We can destroy this temptation to false happiness in “what God has done” by passing credit for it to secularists!
[Note: Since other writing projects took up my time today, I've decided to repost this entry from last November. Its one of the few entries that I've written that I consider to be worth rereading (and reimplementing).]
This post contains a four step process that could transform your life by, quite literally, changing your mind.
After reading the entire post the vast majority of readers will snicker at such a hyperbolic claim and never implement the method I outline. A smaller number will consider the advice intriguing, my assertion only a slight exaggeration, and will also never implement the method. A tiny minority, however, will recognize the genius behind the recommendation and apply it to their own life. This group will later say that my claim was an understatement.
This post is written for those people.
In late August I stumbled across a variation of the four steps in a blog post by Fred Sanders. I implemented his recommendation that day and have followed the process almost daily since then. Last month I had the pleasure of meeting Sanders in person and telling him how his post had transformed my life. My hope is that at least one other person will follow this advice and experience the same transformative affect.
Before I reveal the four steps I want to reiterate that while the advice could transform your life, it most likely will not. As with most life-altering advice, it is simple, easy to implement, and even easier to ignore. Statistically speaking, the odds are great that you’ll ignore this advice. Therefore I encourage you to stop reading now; you’ll only be wasting your time reading further.
For the one or two people who will find this useful, the four steps that will transform your worldview are:
1. Choose a book of the Bible.
2. Read it in its entirety.
3. Repeat #2 twenty times.
4. Repeat this process for all 66 books of the Bible.
Christians often talk about having a Biblical worldview yet most have only a rudimentary knowledge of the Bible. They attempt to build a framework without first gathering the lumber and cement needed to create a solid foundation. The benefits of following this process should therefore be obvious. By fully immersing yourself into the text you’ll come to truly know the text. You’ll deepen your knowledge of the Bible as a whole and be able to put each book into context.
Since this method is adapted from a book by James M. Gray (1851-1935), “How to Master the English Bible” I’ll let him explain in his own words:
The first practical help I ever received in the mastery of the English Bible was from a layman. We were fellow-attendants at a certain Christian conference or convention and thrown together a good deal for several days, and I saw something in his Christian life to which I was a comparative stranger –a peace, a rest, a joy, a kind of spiritual poise I knew little about. One day I ventured to ask him how he had become possessed of the experience, when he replied, “By reading the epistle to the Ephesians.” I was surprised, for I had read it without such results, and therefore asked him to explain the manner of his reading, when he related the following: He had gone into the country to spend the Sabbath with his family on one occasion, taking with him a pocket copy of Ephesians, and in the afternoon, going out into the woods and lying down under a tree, he began to read it; he read it through at a single reading, and finding his interest aroused, read it through again in the same way, and, his interest increasing, again and again. I think he added that he read it some twelve or fifteen times, “and when I arose to go into the house,” said he, “I was in possession of Ephesians, or better yet, it was in possession of me, and I had been ‘lifted up to sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus’ in an experimental sense in which that had not been true in me before, and will never cease to be true in me again.”
I confess that as I listened to this simple recital my heart was going up in thanksgiving to God for answered prayer, the prayer really of months, if not years, that I might come to know how to master His Word. And yet, side by side with the thanksgiving was humiliation that I had not discovered so simple a principle before, which a boy of ten or twelve might have known. And to think that an “ordained” minister must sit at the feet of a layman to learn the most important secret of his trade!
Rather than wasting time attempting to defend the wisdom of applying this method, I’ll simply close with a few practical suggestions for putting it into practice:
1. Choose shorter books and work up to longer ones. Since you'll be reading an entire book of the Bible and not just a chapter or two, you'll want to work your way up to more extensive readings. When beginning this program you may want to start with a short book that has only a few chapters that can be read several times in one sitting. This will not only give you a sense of accomplishment but will give you an idea of how quickly you can “master” the material. For example, a short book like John or Jude can be read four or five times in one sitting allowing you to finish the entire twenty readings in less than a week. [NT books, shortest to longest: 3 John, 2 John, Phlm, Jude, Titus, 2Thess, Rev, 2 Peter, 2 Tim, 1Thess, Col, 1 Tim, Phil, 1 Peter, James, 1 John, Gal, Eph, 2 Cor, Heb, 1 Cor, Rom, Mark, John, Matt, Acts, Luke; OT books, shortest to longest: See this chart.]
2. Read at your normal pace. Treating the material reverently does not require reading at a slower than normal speed. Read for comprehension, ignoring the division of chapters and verses and treating each book as one coherent unit.
3. Skip the commentaries. Don’t get bogged down by referring to commentaries or other outside sources. Commentaries are for your Bible study, rather than for this “synthetic reading.” Read the book in its entirety and then attempt to summarize in your own words the book’s theme and major points.
4. Stick with the process. After the eighth or ninth reading you’ll hit a wall that is similar to what runners face in marathons. The text will become dry and lose its flavor. You’ll want to move on to the next book or abandon the program altogether. Stick with it. Persevere and you’ll discover the treasures that repeated readings can provide. Keep in mind that not every book will be equally rewarding. It doesn’t mean that you’re a heretic if during one of your readings you find 2 John a bit redundant or Jude just plain boring. Keep in mind the words of 2 Timothy 3:16-17: “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, 17 that the man of God may be competent, equipped for every good work.” Stick with it and you'll fully understand the truth of that verse.
5. Choose an appropriate version. As much as I love The Message, a modern language paraphrase is not an appropriate version for synthetic reading. Likewise, the familiar rhythms and cadences of the KJV can, upon repeated readings, get in the way of comprehension. I personally recommend the ESV, though the NIV can be a suitable alternative.
6. Pray. Ask God to open your heart to his Word. Trust the Holy Spirit to illuminate the text and provide guidance and understanding.
7. Begin today. Don’t put it off another day. Don’t say you’ll start tomorrow, or next week, or after New Year’s. You won’t. Start with the only time that you are guaranteed – now. If you have time to waste reading this blog then you have time to start this program. Start now and then tomorrow, next week, or after New Year’s--after your mind has become saturated with God's Holy Word--you can tell me my claim was an understatement.
[Note: Since other writing projects took up my time today, I've decided to repost this entry from December 2005.]
Over the past thirty-eight years I've been, at one time or another, a pre/post/a-millennialist, dispensational-covenantal, semi-charismatic, Reformed-Arminian, Wesleyan-Calvinist attending a Southern/Independent/Fundamentalist Baptist/Free-Methodist/Free-Evangelical/Presbyterian (USA and PCA)/Pentecostal/Assembly of God/Bible/non-denominational church.
I've sipped grape juice from glass thimbles and red wine from gold-plated goblets while eating pieces of saltine crackers and chips of unleavened bread, I've had "dinner on the ground" with a pew's worth of believers and shared feasts with a stadium full of megachurch patrons. I've listened to seminary-educated pastors parse Greek verbs and heard semi-illiterate Mexican preachers deliver sermons in Spanish.
Over three dozen churches still have me on the roles as a "member."
With my experience I can talk to any fellow Christian about doctrine and scripture and within ten minutes can tell you a dozen things wrong with their theology. Given another ten minutes I can explain to them in graphic detail where they err. Whether the topic is baptism ("...you gotta dunk 'em down real good to wash away all this sin"), the emergent church ("...let me tell ya what's wrong with that McLaren guy..."), eschatology ("Rapture? The Bible don't say nothin' about no..."), or any other issues that has ever caused a Protestant to start their own denomination, I can jump in with my well-formed, incontrovertible opinion. I'm always willing to look past the mote in my own eye to help a brother get that speck out of his own. That's just the kind of guy I am.
At least I used to be. I find that I just don't have the stomach for those old arguments anymore. I'm still willing to discuss doctrinal differences. But now I'm less sure that I'm standing on the right side of scripture. Is the view heretical or likely to lead someone away from salvation? Then I'll fight it tooth-and-nail. If not, then I'll probably just sit this one out. I no longer have an interest in being what Anthony Bradley calls a "wife beater":
I actually know guys who are primarily concerned with wearing wife beaters not to beat their wives but to beat up on the bride of Jesus: the church. Seriously, I know men, many men, who focus almost exclusively on fighting battles within the church and Christianity. These sick freaks think its fun to fight with other Christians about theology, church practice, etc., just to fight. That's pretty much all they care about. This is the Enemy's strategy to keep many gifted men out of the Great Battle. Ever read C.S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters?
Hold on, dear contrarians, as I know your fingers are twitching to respond with venom, exceptions, and "yeah, but. . .," this does not mean that some men should not be working hard to keep the church pure in it's doctrine and practice. Paul does commend us to "watch our doctrine closely" and SOME guys are called to this but MOST are not.
"This is slap boxing," adds Bradley, "The guys fighting in the Great Battle spend their time warring for the hearts of real people trapped in brokenness, sin, misguided thinking, destructive habits." Like Bradley, I'm disturbed by the number of Christian men--and it's almost always men --who waste their intellectual gifts fighting with fellow believers. Perhaps we need to have lengthy critical examinations of such issues as paedobaptism or predestination. But how many people truly believe God intends for them to spend a large bulk of their time, energy, and intellect correcting other Christians who might take a different view?
Jonathan Barlow believes that the problem stems from the "critique-culture" within evangelical circles:
We [evangelicals] rarely do anything positive, and when we do, positive just doesn't sell. I don't have a good answer for a way forward, but I think a good first step is trying to lay off of brothers in other Christian traditions for the most part, especially those who hold to Nicene orthodoxy. Secondly, when our bright students are interested in a thinker outside of our circles, we teachers and pastors should model a kind of engagement that praises where it can, and suggests alternatives where it cannot.
There was a time when the issues was merely about the correct doctrine, the acceptable teachers, and the denominationally-approved books. The advent of the blogosphere, though, has not only expanded the reach of the critique-culture but has added new ways in which we can criticize each other's activities. I can't think of a single blogging initiative involving Christians that hasn't been roundly criticized by our own brothers and sisters. This is not to say that any venture should be immune from criticism. But there comes a point when the knee-jerk critiques simply lead to paralysis.
Is there anything that Christians do that will not earn them criticism by other Christians? We complain about both church growth initiatives and stagnation in the pews. We whine about both the conformity of mainstream evangelicalism and the dangers of the emergent church movement. We warn against both the church being too involved in politics and against the church not doing enough prevent state-sanctioned injustice. We even have Calvinists being criticized by Hyper-Calvinists for not holding closely enough to the strictures of Calvinism -- while never having bothered to actually read the works of John Calvin!
Where does it end? When will we stop being wife beaters of Christ's bride? And when will we finally heed the exhortation of Titus to, "Avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and arguments and quarrels about the law, because these are unprofitable and useless."
"If we have no idea what Jesus looked like, how should he be portrayed?"
It's not often that I disagree with John Piper. But on this question Dr. Piper and I are on opposite sides. Andy Jackson recently pointed to a brief excerpt from one of Dr. Piper's sermons titled "What do you think of pictures of Jesus?". I've transcribed the text from the audio:
I'm a little hesitant about portraits of Jesus at all. There's that argument about whether that's breaking the first Commandment -- don't make any graven images, don't have pictures of Jesus in your house. The reason I'm not a stickler on that is because Jesus became incarnate, therefore we know he had a face. God the father didn't have a face, except insofar as He and the Son are one.
Jesus had a face and even though we don't know what it looked like I think renderings of it to show various things are okay. And if we're going to do that, they should be real diverse. I think they should be real diverse because you lock in on that famous one--I don't know what it's called, the one with the long hair, kind of the idyllic face and the blue eyes---that's absolutely absurd.
But I think they should probably be black portrayals of Jesus, and white portrayals of Jesus, and Chinese portrayals of Jesus. And everybody knows that they're not accurate. There isn't one that's accurate. That's why it's legitimate to do lots of inaccurate works. Because you just say we all know that we don't know what he looked like so what we want to say with our inaccurate Jesus is something true about Jesus. Namely, he's there for everybody.
There are three points in this statement in which I agree. I agree that such images do not break the first Commandment and I agree that Warner Sallman's "Head of Christ" is "absolutely absurd." I also agree that Jesus is there for everyone. Unfortunately, the rest of the passage seems to me to be confused and illogical.
For example, Piper says that the images should be "real diverse." But how much diversity is acceptable? Would he approve of portrayals of Jesus as an elderly man? What about as a woman?
The fact that no particular rendition can be completely accurate does not make it "legitimate to do lots of inaccurate works." Unless the work is intentionally abstract, then a degree of realism is to be expected from the artwork. By offering a portrayal that intentionally veers from the Biblical portrait of Christ, the artist is using Jesus to further a particular racial, ethnic, or political agenda.
Piper is also just flat out wrong in saying that "everybody knows that they're not accurate." Hitler claimed that Jesus was probably Gallic and that "it's certain that Jesus was not a Jew." The view that Jesus has Nordic features is still held today by white supremacists. Similarly, the view that Jesus was black is espoused by syncretic religions, such as Santeria or Voodoo, where African gods were merged with saints of the Roman Catholic Church. The Black Hebrew Israelites (a group that can be found preaching on street corners in our Nation's capital) also claims that since black people are descended from Israelites, Jesus had to be black.
The antisemitism that motivates and inspires most of these images is reason enough to condemn such revisionist art. Christians should stand firm against this vicious ideology by refusing to budge on the truth that our Lord and Savior took the incarnate form of a Jew.
But even when the motives are noble, we should reject such this faux diversity. Instead, we should express our humility by honoring the choices that God made in taking human form. We are created to reflect the image of our Lord; we shouldn’t try to recreate his image to reflect our own.
UPDATE: Abraham Piper adds more some additional thoughts on the Desiring God blog. He adds an interesting point about the metaphorical uses of imagery in order to say something true:
If the goal of art is to strictly represent reality, then, yes, Jesus should always be portrayed as a first-century Jew. But if the goal of art is to interpret reality in order to draw out something particularly true or beautiful, then precise realism is not always required. For example, certain attributes of Christ are highlighted when he is called a lion and others are highlighted when he is called a lamb. Needless to say, neither of these images is "accurate." He is neither a lion nor a lamb; he is a first-century Jew. But beautiful, true things about him become clearer to us when we picture him in these "inaccurate" forms.
I completely agree with his point, yet disagree with the applicability in this situation. Portrayals of Jesus as a lion or a lamb are unmistakably metaphorical. They are also completely Biblical.
The same can't be said for "black Jesus" or "Chinese Jesus." A metaphor is when an image is used that is not literally applicable in order to suggest a resemblance. What would the metaphor of a "black Jesus" mean? That while Jesus is not black he is like black people? While that would technically qualify as a metaphor, it is an insulting one. It is also unnecessarily devisive to images of Jesus with various racial traits is necessary to convince people that he is their Savior too.
Using metaphors in religious art is entirely justifiable. But are these types of images really metaphorical or are they simply revisionist?
My buddy Steve Dilliard recently launched Catholics Against Rudy, a website created to "empower faithful Catholics at the local level to educate their fellow parishoners about Rudy Giuliani’s abysmal record on non-negotiable “Culture of Life” issues (e.g., abortion, embryonic stem cell research) and traditional marriage."
Steve's main focus will be on Rudy's policy positions, though he acknowledges that the mayor's character is not off limits for criticism. Most importantly, he encourages "all Catholics to pray for Mayor Giuliani on a daily basis; specifically, that he will confess the error of his ways, fully embrace the teachings of the Catholic Church, and return to full communion with the Church."
Although I can only pray for that first part, count me in with the "Protestants who support Catholics Against Rudy" camp.
Although I don't subscribe to the Left Behind-style theology of this video (at least not anymore), I thought I'd post this for my pre-mill dispensationalist friends.
Stick with it until the end and you'll either find this awesome in a scary way or scary in a funny way. (I found it to be both.)
In almost every one of my relationships there comes a point when the other person—whether acquaintance, friend, or coworker—realizes that I’m kind of a jerk.
It often comes as an epiphany, a sudden realization that, now that they think about it, I was a jerk all this time---they just never realized it before. Perhaps they had chalked up my standoffishness to introversion or my critical nature to an analytic mind. Maybe my gruffness was because I was in the Marines or that my social skills atrophied because of disuse. However they had previously excused my behavior, they now realized that, nice guy that I might appear on the exterior, I am a barely tolerable jerk.
Generally, they are too polite to acknowledge this openly; mostly I just recognize it in their eyes. However it happens, it is unmistakable and the moment brings me both relief and distress. It's like publicly removing a man girdle that has been holding in an excess of gut and love handles. Although I can finally breathe easier, everyone else is looking at me with disgust.
How is this possible? How can I be a Christian for over three decades (since the age of six) and still be such a jerk? The only response I can give is that if I wasn't a Christian I'd be much, much worse. As Evelyn Waugh--another Christian who recognized he was a nasty chap--once said, "If not for my faith I would be barely human."
While true, that answer seems a bit of a cop-out. I don't like being a jerk and I don't like making excuses for my nasty behavior. So I attempt to be nicer, more likable. I pretend to be genial and gregarious in the hope that I'll eventually become less of a jerk.
But it doesn't work. The more I pose and pretend that I'm something I'm not, the more I appear to be a hypocritical jerk.
The main problem is that I go about it all wrong. Instead of trying to be more likable I should focus on being more loving. As C.S. Lewis once noted, "Christian Love (or Charity) for our neighbors is quite a different thing from liking or affection."
[T]hough natural likings should normally be encouraged, it would be quite wrong to think that the way to become charitable is to sit trying to manufacture affectionate feelings. Some people are 'cold' by temperament; that may be a misfortune for them, but it is no more a sin than having a bad digestion is a sin; and it does not cut them out from the chance, or excuse them from the duty, of learning charity. The rule for all of us is perfectly simple. Do not waste time bothering whether you 'love' your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him. If you injure someone you dislike, you will find yourself disliking him more. If you do him a good turn, you will find yourself disliking him less. …
Consequently, though Christian charity sounds a very cold thing to people whose heads are full of sentimentality, and though it is quite distinct from affection, yet it leads to affection. The difference between a Christian and a worldly man is not that the worldly man has only affections or 'likings' and the Christian has only 'charity'. The worldly man treats certain people kindly because he 'likes' them: the Christian, trying to treat every one kindly, finds himself liking more and more people as he goes on — including people he could not even have imagined himself liking at the beginning.
Lewis has touched on one of the reasons I appear so unregenerate. For thirty years the Holy Spirit has been leading me to hate sin and I have responded, albeit modestly. As theologian R.C Sproul says, "Sin is cosmic treason. Sin is treason against a perfectly pure Sovereign. It is an act of supreme ingratitude toward the One to whom we owe everything, to the One who has given us life itself."
For me, gratitude comes easy, which is why it is easy to hate sin since it is rejection of ingratitude. What is more difficult is grace. Grace does not come naturally, which makes it easier for me to ignore the promptings of the Spirit in that direction.
We Christians often say we should, "Love the sinner, hate the sin." I've certainly made headway on half that cliché. For the sanctification of this jerk to progress, though, I need to start acting on the other half.
After reading this weekend's Blog Against Theocracy blogswarm, I scoured Bartlett's and other sources to help me find the best way to describe this event. Though Shakespeare and Samuel Johnson are keen observers of human nature, their words seemed too lofty, too dignified to be used for such a banal purpose. So instead I turned to one of my favorite cultural critics. Although the reference is to The Matrix, it's an apt description of the experience I had reading these posts:
[It's] like watching a retarded bear in the circus. It's painful and annoying and just frustrating because you just wish there was something you could do. But you don't really want to watch it. No one really wants to see that.
Indeed, it is painful, frustrating, and annoying to read such ignorant drivel. In the past I've written numerous posts on the "theocracy canard" in a futile attempt to address this misconception. But for the radical fringe of the secular left--the Chomskyites, the 9/11 conspiracy theorists, Rosie O'Donnell--reason and logic are like kryptonite. Because they live on emotion what they feel is what is true, regardless of facts and reality.
The theophobes, however, are a bit unique in that they embrace an infantile brand of libertarian socialism.* Like other leftists, they tend to advocate for collectivist government solutions. But their support ends when government interferes with their "rights" to do as they please. This is why they hate--and hate is not too strong a word--people who refuse to keep their religious beliefs in the closet. Christians, in particular, are considered a group that is always trying to impose their bourgeois standard of morality on society despite how it makes some people feel.
To get a sense of what I mean, all you have to do is read the introduction to the blogswarm:
The post will be against theocracy, in favor of our Constitutional guarantee of separation of church and state. But there are a LOT of issues tied to this, as is pointed out in the First Freedom First website:
No religious discrimination.
PRO End-of-Life Care (no more Terri Schiavo travesties)
Reproductive health decisions made by individuals, not religious "majorities"
Democracy not Theocracy
Academic Integrity (like, a rock is as old as it is, not as old as the Bible says)
Sound Science (good bye so-called "intelligent" design)
Respect for ALL families (based on love, not sexual orientation. Hellooooo.)
And finally,
The right to worship, OR NOT.
Let's take a closer look at these claims:
The post will be against theocracy, in favor of our Constitutional guarantee of separation of church and state.
Whenever someone starts talking about the "Constitutional guarantee of separation of church and state" you can be sure that they've never bothered to actually read the Constitution. Even when Founding Fathers like Jefferson and Madison used that term in their private writings there is no evidence that the intended it to mean anything as extreme as the dogma proposed by radical secularists. Most of the founders were deists, which contrary to popular belief, was quite moralistic and opposed to atheism. The secularists would have hated the Founding Fathers with a passion that they now reserve for Jerry Falwell and James Dobson.
No religious discrimination.
Isn't it odd how people who typically favor discrimination (i.e., affirmative action for hiring) can be so selective in its application? Of course when they say they favor "no religious discrimination" what they really mean is "no religious discrimination…unless…" and then proceed to fill in the blanks. In this they are no different from most religious believers. What they mean by that term is precisely the type of "church-state separation" that I favor: People are free to make life choices consistent with these beliefs as long as they do not violate the public good or infringe on the rights of others. Our disagreement is not over whether we should allow discrimination (we all agree on that point) but how and where it should be applied.
PRO End-of-Life Care (no more Terri Schiavo travesties)
While most people would think that "PRO End-of-Life Care" means favoring pain management and hospice care, this group believes it means the "right to kill the lebensunwerten lebens, people who are unworthy of life."
And to invoke Terri Schiavo as an example of "PRO End-of-Life Care" shows a contemptible level of cluelessness. Are they aware that Terri was denied medical tests that would have confirmed her condition? Or that her husband had previously testified under oath that Terri did not want to be taken off life-supporting treatment? Are they aware of the fact that Terri wasn't even dying? Apparently, their definition of "end-of-life care" includes starving a woman to death.
Reproductive health decisions made by individuals, not religious "majorities"
Again, the group's pro-death bias is apparent. By "reproductive health decisions" they mean the right to end a life in the womb. Does this mean that they favor health decisions such as partial birth abortions for any cause? If not, why place such restrictions on an individual's decision? And why should such decisions stop after birth? After all, it was "religious majorities" who determined that infanticide was a moral evil. What non-religious argument would they have for opposing infanticide? They've already shown their desire to kill "human non-persons", which as Peter Singer points out, includes infants. Do they have the courage to be consistent?
Democracy not Theocracy
Remember when this group opposed the U.S.-led establishment of a theocracy in Afghanistan? Yeah, me neither.
This is why they opposed the Academic Integrity (like, a rock is as old as it is, not as old as the Bible says) Sound Science (good bye so-called "intelligent" design)Isn't it "religious discrimination" to oppose the teaching of views that clash with some people's beliefs? Again, their choices of what is acceptable just happen--quite coincidentally--to align with the agenda of the secular left.
And what's up with this blanket rejection of intelligent design. I realize that they think they are aligning with the "brights" on this one but they don't seem to have given it much independent thought. Odd, that for a group that respects Enlightenment thinking on church-state matters that they reject the Enlightenment thinking on atheism and intelligent design. To quote Voltaire from the Philosophical Dictionary, the bible of Enlightenment thought:
We are intelligent beings: intelligent beings cannot have been formed by a crude, blind, insensible being: there is certainly some difference between the ideas of Newton and the dung of a mule. Newton's intelligence, therefore, came from another intelligence.
And my favorite quip from the old deist:
Atheism is the vice of a few intelligent persons, and superstition is the vice of fools. But rogues! what are they? rogues.
In rejecting the beliefs of both the world's religions and the "secular" Enlightenment they've carved out a bizarre anti-intellectual niche for themselves.
Respect for ALL families (based on love, not sexual orientation. Hellooooo.)
Why did they leave out polygamy? Surely if they believe the love is all that matters then they should be pro-polygamy, right?
And finally, The right to worship, OR NOT.
Who disagrees with that? I've never met a Christian that doesn’t believe a person has a right to worship--or not--as they choose. I've never even heard the dominionists (the people who actually do advocate theocracy) say otherwise. This is why it is impossible to take these people seriously. Their crack-pot conspiracy theories rarely bear any resemblance to reality. Do they seriously think that a country with a thriving abortion industry, a pornified pop culture, and where even speaking ill of homosexuality is considered déclassé is in danger of becoming a theocracy? Are they really that stupid or is the hyperventilating hyperbole just for effect? And if it's just an act, who do they intend to convince? Even retarded circus bears have more sense than to believe such nonsense.
*It does a disservice to respectable people (like Ed Brayton) when we treat these radical libertarian socialists as representative of secularists in general. While I disagree with secularism, both in its incarnations on the right and left, it is not inherently disreputable as is the theophobic wingnut wing of secularism.
(HT: Prosthesis)
Update: I found a prime example of the type of tin-foil hat wearing paranoia that leads people to denude terms of all relevant denotation. In reference to a post I wrote, a blogger wrote:
The theocracy in those statements is soft, but its certainly there. Joe Carter is not arguing in favor of personal conscience. He's arguing something much stronger, that there is a divine law, that governments should be run with reference to that law and, more importantly, that everyone who disagrees is wrong.
Joe's belief that he's cornered the market on divine Truth, and his willingness use the machinery of government to administer said Truth, makes him a theocrat.
Anyone who claims to have a direct line to The Almighty, to know eir mind and wishes, and who expresses a willingness to use the coercive power of government to force others to conform, is a theocrat.
So yes, Ed is right, we shouldn't go around reflexively accusing the people at the Discovery Institute of being dominionists. At the same time, however, we should feel free to call a spade a spade. Persons who believe the business of governance should conform to a particular set of religious precepts are theocrats, pure and simple.
And we should feel free to call a moron a moron. Anyone who thinks that I am a theocrat is, pure and simple, a moron.
This month marks two years since I left the Marine Corps. Although I love being a Marine I can honestly say that I don't miss it active duty all that much. In fifteen years of service I sat on the sidelines during three separate wars and like most Marines, being away from the action drove me insane. Sometimes being on the supporting end back in the U.S. is even more frustrating than being in a combat zone. This post, which I originally wrote three years ago, is for all the soldiers and Marines who wish they were spending Easter with their buddies in Iraq.
When a Marine is killed or seriously wounded, the duty of notifying the next of kin falls upon the Casualty Assistance Calls Officer (CACO). Normally the tasks of the CACO team (comprised of a senior NCO, a commissioned officer, and a chaplain) are carried out by the same people. But the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan have increased the need for more CACO teams and so I’ve been added to the roster of those assigned the morbid duty. Since my unit is one of the few active duty commands in the state, we’ve been assigned a large swath of Texas and are responsible for notifications over an area that spans hundreds of miles. Normally a command can expect to make one or two “casualty calls" a year; we made that many this week.
Marines are, of course, no strangers to death. While we would rather see the enemy be the one to “die for his country" we realize what sacrifices we may be called to make and stoically accept of our fate. But though we may be able to face our own mortality, nothing prepares us for the chore of carrying such news to the family of a fallen comrade.
No training can adequately prepare us for all the factors that can go wrong as we carry out the mission. For example, my unit was recently forced to call upon a mother who, upon seeing a trio of Marines in dress uniform standing on her porch, began to break down sobbing. When the officer asked the woman’s name he found it didn’t match the next of kin for the deceased. There had been a mix-up in the addresses and after a few frantic phone calls it was confirmed that this mother's son was still alive, the correct address was a home across town. After profuse apologies the Marines left, leaving the woman to be alone with the guilty relief that somebody other than her would be grieving the loss of their child.
Such tales are shared by CACO members like war stories passed on to new troops in a combat zone. We listen somberly and secretly hope that we'll be spared the unenviable responsiblity. After a month of dread, my turn on the two-day watch finally began today. The assignment requires nothing more than to wait for bad news that may never come.
I look for signs. I watch CNN to monitor the situation, wondering if an uprising in Sadr City or Fallujah will lead to the death of another one of my brothers. I sit by the phone hoping that when it rings its just another telemarketer rather than from headquarters. I pray that I’ll be able to make it through the day without seeing the tears of a mother or the pained expression of a father trying to appear strong.
Then I remember it’s Good Friday and I begin to wonder who told Jesus’ family and friends that he had been killed. Since many of his disciples had fled the night before, they were likely still in hiding until it was too late. Who told them they had lost their teacher? Or what about James, who was probably just returning home from work when he heard the news. Did he see the tortured expression on Mary’s face and realize he had lost his brother? And how long until the report reached Jericho, where a reformed tax collecter named Zacchae'us would grieve over the loss of the man who had changed his life?
Over 2000 years ago, the greatest “casualty call" in history spread throughout a small Roman province in the Middle East. The news that the truest friend, the most beloved son, the gentlest teacher anyone had ever known had been crucified must have spread like wildfire through the land, sparking the most profound grief our universe has ever known. From this side of the calendar we can’t begin to comprehend the magnitude of loss that must have weighed on the hearts of Christ’s followers, family, and friends. We look backward on Good Friday, seeing it from the perspective of the glory that came on Sunday morning. But they saw only the darkness and pain, the loss of hope and bewilderment; they saw nothing but heartbreak.
My phone may ring later this evening. I may have to don my uniform and put on a stoic front. I may have to drive for hours only to take the longer journey up someone’s front steps. I may have to knock on the door and see the melting expression of a parent’s dawning realization of why I’m standing on their porch. I may have to face the grief and pain and sorrow of a family that has lost someone they loved.
But I can offer them hope and take comfort in knowing that the heartbreak won’t last. After all, I know how the story ends. It may only be Friday. But I know that Sunday’s coming soon.
Given my personality, you probably won’t be surprised to hear that I’ve been referred to by a number of insulting titles. Every cuss word you can think of—and a few you probably couldn’t imagine—has been hurled at me over the years. If the label is filthy, vile, disgusting, hurtful, or profane, then someone, somewhere, at sometime has attributed it to me.
Fortunately, I have a fairly thick skin. I'm able to absorb most invectives with bemusement. However, there is one particular four-letter word that always gets under my skin. One insult that I find most offensive and shocking to my sensibilities is when I'm called a "liar."
There are two reasons why that term bothers me more than any other. The first is that it isn’t true; I strive to be honest and forthright. The second reason is because it is true; I have a history of lying, particularly to keep myself out of trouble. The word is offensive because I strive mightily to be a person of integrity and it shocks my sensibilities because it reminds me that I too often fall short of that ideal.
There is another word, equally applicable, that I wish carried the same stinging rebuke: sinner.
Somehow I have become too comfortable identifying myself as a sinner. I consider it purely descriptive, like saying that I have blue eyes or brown hair. I rarely find it shameful. In fact, call me a sinner to my face and I am apt to say that “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.”
Unlike, St. Paul, though, I don’t really comprehend what I’m saying. While I can regurgitate doctrinal statements about Original Sin and Atonement, Paul understood in his bones what it means to be a sinner and the price our Lord had to pay. Compared to him I am but a third-string sinner.
However, like Paul, I have been born again. I have put off the rotting skin of the dead man that I was and put on the new life in Christ. Yet I still find myself turning my gaze from the Cross to lick the sores of my old maggoty corpse. As a dog returns to his vomit, I return to my wicked ways. Worst of all, I am not horrified when I look upon my sins. I’m not shocked when I glance back and see how few steps I’ve taken on the road to sanctification. I simply shrug: What can I say? I’m a sinner.
Although I won’t shake that label until I shed “this mortal coil”, I don’t have to wear it as a badge of honor. I was a sinner, am a sinner, and will be a sinner until I die. But Jesus has saved, is saving, and will save me from the wages I owe because of my sin. The price is paid in full. I have been set free.
I know this and yet do not live it. I treat such priceless grace from my Creator as if it were a polite favor from an acquaintance. But Jesus died. On a Cross. For me. Knowing that doesn’t fill me with guilt and make me want to wear a hairshirt. But it does make me want to be less comfortable wearing the label “sinner.”
As I was contemplating what to write about for Christmas, I stumbled across this article by my friend and co-worker, Suzanne Bowdey. Since it was far superior to anything I could have said I asked Suzanne, the Senior Writer and Editor at Family Research Council, for permission to reprint it here on EO:
In Baghdad, the blackened cars outside churches and abandoned houses where people once worshiped point to an even greater emptiness in Iraq. Since the war, Christians have faced great persecution and hardship, all signaling a new era in a country that was once the cradle of their faith. While it may be home to the ancient cities of Ninevah and Babylon, Ur and the Garden of Eden, families of God are fleeing Iraq—afraid for their lives and the daily threat of terrorism. Frightened by a future where they would be hunted or outcast, thousands of Christians have fled for safe havens.In the past few years, the fragile peace between the country’s Christians and Muslims has been shattered. God-fearing Iraqis have watched helplessly as their brothers and sisters in Christ fall victim to bombings, assassinations, kidnappings, and intimidation. In the face of great suffering, the shrinking population still searches for asylum. By record numbers, nearly half of what was once considered the world’s oldest Christian body has disappeared. As one religious leader said, “The situation that is in the country will not allow us to practice our services freely. It is not safe to go [out] from home. We are meeting every Sabbath, but it is very difficult. We expect an explosion at any time during the day.” Like every Iraqi, he prays for a better tomorrow. “We hope that things will change,” he said. “But no one knows except God.”
Two thousand years ago, the fate of the world hung by a similar thread. A virgin birth. The innocent manger. A promise of salvation. All were endangered by a Middle Eastern tyrant who slaughtered millions in hopes of killing the rightful King, Jesus Christ.
‘…After Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we have observed his star and have come to pay him homage.’ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened… Then Herod secretly called for the wise men… and sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage… When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising… When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. They saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage… And having been warned by a dream… they left for their country by another road… Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Get up and take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt… for Herod is about to search for the child and destroy him.’ (Matthew 2:2-3, 9-13)Just as the Savior is born every year within the hearts and minds of His people, so too are the modern Herods, armed with angry troops and deadly weapons. But I am grateful for this side of the nativity story, because we learn that in the face of evil and corruption, the Messiah still finds His way.
Though suicide bombers threaten and war tears many apart, the faithful have clung to the Light in a world that seeks to destroy it. While the course is difficult, and fear and darkness often cover our path, history tells us that somewhere behind these horrors are the stirrings of peace and goodwill. On the other side of this manger is the Kingdom of Heaven. We celebrate with the poet T.S. Eliot, who wrote of the Magi, We returned to our places / But no longer at ease here / in the old dispensation / with an alien people clutching their gods / I should be glad of another death. This season, may the world be grateful “of another death” that brings new life in Christ.
Merry Christmas to all my friends and readers. May you experience the stirrings of peace and goodwill that can only be found by resting in our Savior and Lord Jesus Christ.
In the beginning God made man in his image...and ever since we've been returning the favor. Occasionally mankind has stooped to worshiping graven images like the golden calf. But mostly we prefer to worship something even more rare and valuable – ourselves. We just don't talk about it much. Murder, theft, and adultery get all the press while idolatry has become the sin that dares not speak it name. Violations of the first commandment, however, are by far our most pervasive sin. In fact, it is often the root of sin. What sin cannot be traced back to our desire to put ourselves in God’s place, allowing us to rebel against our Creator with impunity?
Still, it is rather shocking to hear someone be unabashedly open about their idolatry as Bart Campolo, son of Tony Campolo, is in a recent article for The Journal of Student Ministries*:
Some might say I would be wise to swallow my misgivings about such stuff [like God's sovereignty, wrath, hell, etc.], remain orthodox, and thereby secure my place with God in eternity. But that is precisely my point: If those things are true, then God might as well send me to Hell. For better or worse, I simply am not interested in any God but a completely good, entirely loving, and perfectly forgiving One who is powerful enough to utterly triumph over evil. Such a God may not exist, but I will die seeking such a God, and I will pledge my allegiance to no other possibility because, quite frankly, anything less is not worthy of my worship.
Please, don’t get me wrong. I am well aware that I don’t get to decide who God is. What I do get to decide, however, is to whom I pledge my allegiance. I am a free agent, after all, and I have standards for my God, the first of which is this: I will not worship any God who is not at least as compassionate as I am.
Hubris and heresy from someone named Campolo probably shouldn’t be that surprising. But it is an extreme example of an all too common problem, even among non-heretics: failing to recognize the holiness of God.
Contra Campolo, God is indeed completely good, entirely loving, and perfectly forgiving. But He is also holy – pure, wholly perfect, transcendent. Holiness demands that we tremble in God's presence; instead, we rebel. Justice demands that we we pay for our impunity; instead, we are allowed to continue living.
Theologian R.C Sproul, in one of the most enlightening passages ever written on the subject, explains how God’s holiness relates to his justice:
Sin is cosmic treason. Sin is treason against a perfectly pure Sovereign. It is an act of supreme ingratitude toward the One to whom we owe everything, to the One who has given us life itself. Have you ever considered the deeper implications of the slightest sin, of the most minute peccadillo? What are we saying of our Creator when we disobey Him at the slightest point? We are saying no the righteousness of God. We are saying, “God, Your law is not good. My judgment is better than Yours. Your authority does not apply to me. I am above and beyond Your jurisdiction. I have the right to do what I want to do, not what You command me to do.”
The slightest sin is an act of defiance against cosmic authority. It is a revolutionary act, a rebellious act in which we are setting ourselves in opposition to the One to whom we owe everything. It is an insult to His holiness. We became false witnesses to God. When we sin as the image bearers of God, we are saying to the whole creation, to all of nature under our dominion, to the birds of the air and the beasts of the field: “This is how God is. This is how your Creator behaves. Look in the mirror; look at us, and you will see the character of God Almighty.” We say to the world, “God is covetous, God is ruthless; God is bitter; God is a murderer, a thief, a slanderer, an adulterer. God is all of these things that we are doing.” [R.C. Sproul, The Holiness of God (p. 116)]
The question that we should be asking is not, as Campolo claims, “God is a cruel bastard. How can we trust him?” but rather, “God is a Holy Sovereign. How can he tolerate my rebellion?” Rather than complaining that God doesn’t save everyone we should be asking why does God save anyone. All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. Nobody deserves to go to heaven; everyone does to go to hell. As Sproul adds, “God never owes mercy….God is not obligated to treat all people equally.”
What is truly amazing is how patient and forbearing God has been throughout history in light of our continued betrayal. Look, for example, at the examples in the Old Testament. Those who refuse to recognize God’s holiness often complain that Jehovah is cruel and vindictive. In truth, God’s dealings with humanity in the OT are an example of a God who is maddeningly patient and merciful.
The punishment for sin is death—complete physical and spiritual death. Yet over and over God foregos enacting his righteous judgment (justice) and treats mankind with mercy (nonjustice). It is a sign of our skewed perspective that we are shocked when we read about God slaying the wicked. What should surprise us is that God isn’t infinitely just, continually slaying all wicked sinners.
Not all of us will, like Campolo, spit on the Cross and turn away from our righteous Sovereign in order to worship a weak imaginary god. But such heresy should serve as a reminder that we often treat the living Triune God as if he were some patsy, a divine chump. Even now as I rail against idolatry I know that in my heart I’m a Benedict Arnold, a Judas, who continually betrays my Lord. I treat Him as if he were weak-willed instead of bafflingly patient. How thankful I am that God is not always just, for His amazing grace has saved a cosmic traitor like me.
(HT: Justin Taylor)
*Update: To their credit, The Journal of Student Ministries took down the article. A cached version can be found here
This post contains a four step process that could transform your life by, quite literally, changing your mind.
After reading the entire post the vast majority of readers will snicker at such a hyperbolic claim and never implement the method I outline. A smaller number will consider the advice intriguing, my assertion only a slight exaggeration, and will also never implement the method. A tiny minority, however, will recognize the genius behind the recommendation and apply it to their own life. This group will later say that my claim was an understatement.
This post is written for those people.
In late August I stumbled across a variation of the four steps in a blog post by Fred Sanders. I implemented his recommendation that day and have followed the process almost daily since then. Last month I had the pleasure of meeting Sanders in person and telling him how his post had transformed my life. My hope is that at least one other person will follow this advice and experience the same transformative affect.
Before I reveal the four steps I want to reiterate that while the advice could transform your life, it most likely will not. As with most life-altering advice, it is simple, easy to implement, and even easier to ignore. Statistically speaking, the odds are great that you’ll ignore this advice. Therefore I encourage you to stop reading now; you’ll only be wasting your time reading further.
For the one or two people who will find this useful, the four steps that will transform your worldview are:
1. Choose a book of the Bible.
2. Read it in its entirety.
3. Repeat #2 twenty times.
4. Repeat this process for all 66 books of the Bible.
Christians often talk about having a Biblical worldview yet most have only a rudimentary knowledge of the Bible. They attempt to build a framework without first gathering the lumber and cement needed to create a solid foundation. The benefits of following this process should therefore be obvious. By fully immersing yourself into the text you’ll come to truly know the text. You’ll deepen your knowledge of the Bible as a whole and be able to put each book into context.
Since this method is adapted from a book by James M. Gray (1851-1935), “How to Master the English Bible” I’ll let him explain in his own words:
The first practical help I ever received in the mastery of the English Bible was from a layman. We were fellow-attendants at a certain Christian conference or convention and thrown together a good deal for several days, and I saw something in his Christian life to which I was a comparative stranger –a peace, a rest, a joy, a kind of spiritual poise I knew little about. One day I ventured to ask him how he had become possessed of the experience, when he replied, “By reading the epistle to the Ephesians.” I was surprised, for I had read it without such results, and therefore asked him to explain the manner of his reading, when he related the following: He had gone into the country to spend the Sabbath with his family on one occasion, taking with him a pocket copy of Ephesians, and in the afternoon, going out into the woods and lying down under a tree, he began to read it; he read it through at a single reading, and finding his interest aroused, read it through again in the same way, and, his interest increasing, again and again. I think he added that he read it some twelve or fifteen times, “and when I arose to go into the house,” said he, “I was in possession of Ephesians, or better yet, it was in possession of me, and I had been ‘lifted up to sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus’ in an experimental sense in which that had not been true in me before, and will never cease to be true in me again.”
I confess that as I listened to this simple recital my heart was going up in thanksgiving to God for answered prayer, the prayer really of months, if not years, that I might come to know how to master His Word. And yet, side by side with the thanksgiving was humiliation that I had not discovered so simple a principle before, which a boy of ten or twelve might have known. And to think that an “ordained” minister must sit at the feet of a layman to learn the most important secret of his trade!
Rather than wasting time attempting to defend the wisdom of applying this method, I’ll simply close with a few practical suggestions for putting it into practice:
1. Choose shorter books and work up to longer ones. Since you'll be reading an entire book of the Bible and not just a chapter or two, you'll want to work your way up to more extensive readings. When beginning this program you may want to start with a short book that has only a few chapters that can be read several times in one sitting. This will not only give you a sense of accomplishment but will give you an idea of how quickly you can “master” the material. For example, a short book like John or Jude can be read four or five times in one sitting allowing you to finish the entire twenty readings in less than a week. [NT books, shortest to longest: 3 John, 2 John, Phlm, Jude, Titus, 2Thess, Rev, 2 Peter, 2 Tim, 1Thess, Col, 1 Tim, Phil, 1 Peter, James, 1 John, Gal, Eph, 2 Cor, Heb, 1 Cor, Rom, Mark, John, Matt, Acts, Luke; OT books, shortest to longest: See this chart.]
2. Read at your normal pace. Treating the material reverently does not require reading at a slower than normal speed. Read for comprehension, ignoring the division of chapters and verses and treating each book as one coherent unit.
3. Skip the commentaries. Don’t get bogged down by referring to commentaries or other outside sources. Commentaries are for your Bible study, rather than for this “synthetic reading.” Read the book in its entirety and then attempt to summarize in your own words the book’s theme and major points.
4. Stick with the process. After the eighth or ninth reading you’ll hit a wall that is similar to what runners face in marathons. The text will become dry and lose its flavor. You’ll want to move on to the next book or abandon the program altogether. Stick with it. Persevere and you’ll discover the treasures that repeated readings can provide. Keep in mind that not every book will be equally rewarding. It doesn’t mean that you’re a heretic if during one of your readings you find 2 John a bit redundant or Jude just plain boring. Keep in mind the words of 2 Timothy 3:16-17: “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, 17 that the man of God may be competent, equipped for every good work.” Stick with it and you'll fully understand the truth of that verse.
5. Choose an appropriate version. As much as I love The Message, a modern language paraphrase is not an appropriate version for synthetic reading. Likewise, the familiar rhythms and cadences of the KJV can, upon repeated readings, get in the way of comprehension. I personally recommend the ESV, though the NIV can be a suitable alternative.
6. Pray. Ask God to open your heart to his Word. Trust the Holy Spirit to illuminate the text and provide guidance and understanding.
7. Begin today. Don’t put it off another day. Don’t say you’ll start tomorrow, or next week, or after New Year’s. You won’t. Start with the only time that you are guaranteed – now. If you have time to waste reading this blog then you have time to start this program. Start now and then tomorrow, next week, or after New Year’s--after your mind has become saturated with God's Holy Word--you can tell me my claim was an understatement.
Although I dont often write confessional posts, there is an issue that has been weighing on my heart. Certain discussions throughout the evangelical wing of the blogosphere have led me to finally speak up about an issue that Ive tended to keep to myself. The problem concerns my faith: I am plagued by certainty.
Its no secret that I have a high opinion of my own opinion; a confidence in their correctness that borders on the obnoxious. Like Ivan Turgenev, "I share no mans opinions; I have my own." But while I may embrace and defend my opinions with firmness, it is a humble form of certitude in which I have to acknowledge that there is a statistical likelihood -- whether trivial or significant -- that I could be wrong.
Not so, however, when it comes to matters of faith.
I dont doubt that God exists or that the Bible is his Word. I dont doubt that Jesus was born of a virgin, that he died and was buried, or that he rose again after three days in the tomb. I dont doubt that he died for me, a truly wretched sinner, or that I will spend eternity in His presence. I would find it easier to doubt my own existence than to doubt the Nicene Creed. Maybe Im delusional (though I doubt that) but I have few doubts about my faith.
My certitude is admittedly personal. I believe I have justification and warrant for my beliefs and that if pressed, I could attempt to provide proof and evidence for these claims. The level of proof I could give, though, would not provide the same level of certitude that I have. Proof is rather limited in that regard. I couldnt prove that Joe Carter exists much less prove that he likes the color blue, that he had a crush on Christie Cozart in the 7th grade, or that he hates referring to himself in the third person.
While I cant prove those things beyond a shadow of a doubt, I dont doubt them at all. Similarly, my certainty in my faith isnt based on what I can prove to other people or even, for that matter, what I can prove to myself.
Perhaps I was born too late, for prior to the 1630s my view wouldnt have been out of the ordinary. But the Catholic philosopher Rene Descartes changed everything when he set out on his inner quest to find certitude. He realized that the one thing he could be certain about was the fact of his doubting. Doubting is a form of thinking and thinking requires a thinker. The existence of the I that was doing the doubting, therefore, could not itself be doubted. Descartes declared Cogito ergo sum - I think, therefore I ambut what he should have said was Dubito ergo sum --I doubt, therefore I am.
Today, doubt not only confirms existence, it confirms humility. To lack doubt is to be pretentious, perhaps even un-Christian. Ive heard some people claim that doubt is necessary catalyst for faith! In the Gospels, though, the word doubt consistently carries a negative connotation since Jesus character and abilities are almost always the object of doubt (see: Matt. 12:38-42, 14:31; Luke 24:38; John 20:27). James even calls the doubting man double-minded and compares him to a person who is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. Yet while Scripture may have a low regard for it, many Christians consider anyone lacking in doubt to be pretentious, arrogant, or dishonest.
Lest you think Im being facetious, let me assure you that Im quite serious about the matter. This inability to express doubt has even caused tensions in my marriage. My wife has debilitating panic attacks brought on by a still, small voice that whispers, Youre going to die someday. Although shes a believer, the thought of dying traumatizes her both physically and emotionally. Seeing her in such a state is heartbreaking.
She often asks me why I dont have a fear of dying. I want desperately to empathize and say that I do, but I cannot bring myself to tell that lie. Instead I explain that I believe in eternal life. I tell here that eternal life is not something that begins in the future but something has already begun. My lifemy entry into eternal life-- began the day I surrendered to Christ and will continue, though with some considerable changes, forever.
I might as well be speaking in Swahili, though, for she finds my words incomprehensible. For her this life--the in-the-flesh, day-to-day existenceis certain, while the future glorified existence can bedoubted. The fact that I cant comprehend such a distinction divides us and prevents us from communicating.
As Jude exhorts, be merciful to those who doubt and I truly do try to be compassionate and understanding, recognizing that my sense of certainty is a gift from God. Without it Id probably allow doubts about my faith to become an excuse for even greater depths of navel-gazing. An extra dose of certitude is probably needed just to bring me up to a level of basic normality.
Yet while I recognize that theological certainty does not make me a special brand of saint, it also doesnt make me some perverse freak of faith. I shouldnt feel a need to hang my head in shame because I dont question the existence of God. I shouldnt be asked to dismiss the experiences Ive had with the Lord as if there is a possibility that they are not real. I shouldnt have to lie and say that I understand when people say that are not sure that there is life after death.
I also dont expect you to be ashamed if you feel differently. I wont dismiss your questions or your hesitations. I wont ask you to say you understand my faith if you dont. Ill respect your doubts and in return all I ask is that you be merciful to those of us who are certain.
When the famed German physicist Wolfgang Pauli would criticize the theories of his colleagues, he would often declare them to be ganz falsch, utterly false. But on one occasion Pauli was shown the paper of a young physicist and remarked, It is not even wrong. By this he meant that the work contained such erroneous thinking that it could not even be considered ganz falsch.
When I heard that the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) had developed an educational resource that recommended referring to the Trinity as "Mother, Child, and Womb", I had a similiar reaction: I thought the idea was not only wrong, but utterly wrong. However, after reading the document, The Trinity: Gods Love Overflowing (PDF), I've changed my opinion. The concept is, as Pauli might say, not even wrong. But not necessarily for the reasons I first thought.
Based solely on media reports, it would appear that this document had been produced by church leaders who adhered more to the writings of Dan Brown than to Holy Scripture. But that impression is unfair. In many ways the document is not only orthodox but evangelical in reaffirming the centrality of the doctrine of the Trinity. The members of the task force treat the doctrine with due reverence and seriousness: The doctrine of the Trinity is a summary of the gospel of Jesus Christ--it cannot be understood apart from the gospel, and the gospel cannot be fully understood apart from the doctrine of the Trinity.
They lose their theological footing, however, when they attempt to speak of God in historically faithful yet freshly imaginative ways. True, almost all the analogies that they use come directly from scripture. But when linked in groups of three they form conceptual metaphors that can be misleading and muddle our understanding of an already mysterious doctrine.
The document presents eleven triads, eight of which use analogies taken directly from scripture. Some of them are better than others. For the sake of brevity, though, Ill focus solely on the most controversial one: the triune God is Compassionate Mother, Beloved Child, and Life-Giving Womb (Isa 49:15, Mt. 3:17; Isa 46:3).
This triad is a conceptual metaphor which consists of a source domain and a target domain. For example, in the metaphor Life is a highway the target domain (the part we are trying to understand) is life while the source domain (the part which we draw upon from our own experience) is highway. Because we understand not only what a highway is (a manmade path) but also what occurs on it (travel, adventure, discovery, etc.) we are able to create a conceptual map of the source-target pairing in a way that increases our understanding of the target.
Taken by themselves, each of the source domains (mother, child, womb) increases our understanding of the target domain (God). The problem arises when we try to combine the three source domains into one metaphor. One of the guidelines the panel set was that in each case the terms must have an inner relationship. Severe difficulties arise when trying to resolve the incongruity between these inner relationships and the relationship of the Godhead.
In using these metaphors we not only create a map between the target and domain (God is like a mother) but we create a map between the target and target (the relationship of a mother to her womb). Because the triad form mimics the names of Father/Son/Holy Spirit, we create yet another conceptual map (God/Mother; Son/Child; Womb/Holy Spirit).
The mother, child, womb metaphor then becomes a jumble where we draw illegitimate concepts about the Trinity. For example, the metaphor causes us to draw the analogy Jesus is to the Holy Spirit as a child is to a womb. Adding to the confusion is the fact that the Bible already contains a more fitting relationship of mother/child/womb: the virgin Mary, who sheltered the Christ-child, in her womb (Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. Luke 1:42 KJV).
We must also keep in mind that when we say Jesus is the Son it appears as if we are using a metaphor that helps us understand God by reference to a human relationship. While in some respects this is true, we must keep in mind that the human father-son pattern is merely a metaphor for the eternally existing father-son relationship in the Godhead.
When we try to find a triad that matches Father/Son/Holy Spirit we risk turning these terms into metaphors, rather than names for members of the Godhead. Although well-intentioned, attempting to develop freshly imaginative ways of speaking of the triune God is fraught with peril. Instead of creating clever ways in which we might speak of the Trinity we might consider spending our time reflecting on this magnificent doctrine in holy silence.
(HT: BHT and Alex Arnold, who helped me see that there was more to the PC (USA) document than I would have imagined.)
The Way of the Fathers has a great post on youth ministry in the Patristic-era:
Now, dont jump to conclusions. I havent uncovered any evidence that St. Ambrose led teens on ski trips in the nearby Alps. Nor is there anything to suggest that St. Basil sponsored junior-high dances in Pontus. (Theres not even a hint of a pizza party.) In fact, if you check all the documentary evidence from all the ancient patriarchates of the East and the West, you wont find a single bulletin announcement for a single parish youth group.
Yet the Fathers had enormous success in youth and young-adult ministry. Many of the early martyrs were teens, as were many of the Christians who took to the desert for the solitary life. Theres ample evidence that a disproportionate number of conversions, too, came from the young and youngish age groups.
How did the Fathers do it?
They made wild promises.
They promised young people great things, like persecution, lower social status, public ridicule, severely limited employment opportunities, frequent fasting, a high risk of jail and torture, and maybe, just maybe, an early, violent death at the hands of their pagan rulers.
You know, that sounds a lot like what I used to offer as a Marine Corps recruiter. Perhaps I could apply the skills I learned on recruiting duty in a ministry setting. Any megachurches out there want to hire me to implement the Patristic-driven youth ministry in their suburban church?
(HT: Disert Paths)
Whenever I reflect on ecclesiologythe study of the nature and function of the churchIm overcome with deep dread, a sense of eschatological angst brought about by a disturbing sense of doubt: What if, contrary to all that Ive ever been taught, I get to heaven and find that God has a preference for Methodists?
This uncertainty, combined with the reality that there are over 33,000 Christian denominations in the world, prevents me from becoming overly dogmatic about denominational distinctions. I still cling to my Southern Baptist heritage, but I dont hold on too tightly. I may love a good argument but I have no interest in debating church polity with Presbyterians or infant baptism with Lutherans.
Instead I prefer to rest in the shade of the broad categories that can be preceded by the qualifying adjective mere: orthodox, reformed, evangelical, Christian. Doctrinal fences are needed to clarify important divides (i.e., the Catholic/Protestant split) or to prevent believers from slipping off into heresy. But I find that creating too tight of a boundary around my faith can hinder my fellowship with my brothers and sisters in Christ.
I believe my friend Tim Challies has inadvertently created just such an arbitrary and unnecessary division between believers. Following the reasoning he outlines in a recent post, for example, he would have no legitimate warrant for considering me to be a Christian.
In his post, Tim uses my remark about Andrew Sullivan being a brother in Christ as the catalyst for working out what he believes on the issue of whether we have an obligation to assume that someone is a Christian. Tim is a sharp thinker and while I dont always agree with him, Im invariably impressed by his attempts to think critically about matters of theology. Unlike my posts, which meander and stumble from premise to conclusion, Tims essays tend to be systematic and move directly to the point.
This precision, though, can make it easy to overlook the deeper, hidden implications of his arguments. For example, I was initially bothered by the fact that his conclusion left us with no obligation to assume that any Catholic is a Christian. Only later did I realize that his conclusion left us with no obligation to assume that any Southern Baptist is a Christian either.
The central premise is found in his claim that:
in order to assume that a profession of faith is genuine, the person must attach himself to a "true" church. How we define a true and false church has been the source of much dialogue and disagreement in the centuries since the Reformation, but I am inclined to agree with the three marks proposed during the Reformation and which are summarized in the Belgic Confession, Article 29, which says "The marks by with the true Church is known are these: If the pure doctrine of the gospel is preaching therein; if she maintains the pure administration of the sacraments as instituted by Christ; if church discipline is exercised in punishing of sin; in short, if all things are managed according to the pure Word of God, all things contrary thereto rejected, and Jesus Christ acknowledged as the only Head of the Church."
Tim concludes that When a person has made a profession of faith and is a member in good standing of a true church, as defined by these three marks: the preaching of the Gospel, the administration of the sacraments and the exercise of church discipline, I believe that we are under an obligation to assume that this person's faith is genuine.
While I consider the Belgic Confession to be a magnificent creed and a beautiful exposition of doctrine, I also believe it to be significantly flawed. In order to understand the requirement for pure administration of the s