April 26: 2010: Courage in the Suburbs

The Bible says that cowardly people will be thrown into the fiery lake of burning sulfur (Revelation 21:8), and that gives me strong motivation not to be cowardly. Even if "the fiery lake of burning sulfur" is just a stark symbol for something that really isn't so bad; even if "the cowardly" only means the very very very cowardly; even if my cowardice is covered by the blood of Christ and only unbelieving cowards burn; even if I succeed in cushioning those hellish words with a thousand evangelical comforts, I still can't help seeing from them that God hates cowardice. (He hates other sins too, but today I'm only talking about this one.) God wants me to be brave.

Twelve years ago a friend gave me a T-shirt that said on the back in large letters, ABORTION IS MEAN. (He had others that said ABORTION IS HOMICIDE.) I thanked him, and planned to wear it, but I don't think I ever did so publicly except maybe once or twice. I always chose a different shirt from my dresser whenever I went to play basketball. Why? Because I didn't want to be polarizing. I didn't want to be seen as abrasive or angry. Christians are supposed to be likable, and you don't make friends by shouting moral judgments from your shirt.

But you may save a life that way. You may even save some poor soul from committing mortal sin.

A few days ago a woman told a group of us that her boyfriend got her pregnant when she was 18. Devastated, she went downtown to get an abortion. While there she looked up and saw a sign that read, "Abortion is Murder", and decided she couldn't go through with it. Her son, now 31, has a great story to tell those who toy with the idea of ending a life. Thank God for the brave souls who put up that sign. And, oh Lord, please forgive my cowardly reticence.

At a men's meeting a couple weeks ago the pastor showed movie clips of battle scenes to illustrate the theme of courage. He asked if any of us were veterans, and apparently none of us were. Somehow we all managed to come of age at a time when hardly any man is battle-tested unless he wants to be.

But tests of courage will still come, even to mild-mannered men living in the suburbs. When my father was in his mid 50s, the company he worked for was bought by corrupt men who tried to pressure him to defraud clients. He refused, and was fired. I wonder if, when ordered to be shady, Dad thought, "If I don't do what they say, and I lose my job, how will I provide for my family?" Surely he knew - as I know - that joblessness is a soul-crusher, an emasculator, a scarlet U. Some men would rather face enemy fire (as he did during WW II) than to see their wives have to keep answering the question, "Has Lowell found a job yet?"

But courage of the sort my Dad possessed in spades quietly goes about doing right even when faced with the prospect of pain or loss or shame or deprivation. I doubt he really had to think twice about whether keeping his job was worth compromising his integrity.

In recent weeks, I have had cause to ask myself "What Would Dad Do?" when faced with the old temptation - the need to be liked - that has often seduced me into hiding convictions that must be proclaimed. I'm in a confessional mood, so I will tell you the dirty little secret of the unemployed pastor: he must, he must, be highly thought of. No flock will seek his shepherding if it does not like him, and he knows it. So, among other ploys to win affection, he will soften the hard edges of biblical truth (like Revelation 21:8) - at least until he is safely tenured in a pulpit. God deliver me from such a carnal, God-dishonoring strategy.

I pass along to you the prayer request I submitted to my small group at church, from Ephesians 5:19-20: "Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel... Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should." Amen.