What To Pray For And Against (December 19, 2004)

Pray against sin.

I'm aware that people need help in knowing how to pray and what to pray for. Just a couple weeks ago a neighbor asked me for some written prayers that he could say with his son. He knew he was supposed to pray with him, but he didn’t know how. I bought him a couple books (you can get them at any Christian bookstore) filled with modern, simple prayers to be read aloud. I was happy to see him trying to find an answer to the question, "How should I pray?"

When the disciples asked Jesus how to pray, he gave them a prayer that was almost entirely spiritual in nature. There is only one physical request in the whole prayer: "Give us this day our daily bread." As for the rest:

"Hallowed be thy name." Hallowed is a verb form of the adjective "holy" expressed as a wish. We are not exactly saying "You are holy" or "I wish you were holy" but "I wish you to be regarded as holy." We are praying that sinners (including ourselves) would recognize the true nature of God.

"Thy kingdom come." The devil reigns now. See 2 Corinthians 4:4 where he is "the god of this age," and 1 John 5:19, which says that “the whole world is under the control of the evil one.” But we want God to reign. Ultimately of course, God reigns already, but so many people live their lives in defiance of his rule that it is clear that the devil still has too much power. Holiness defeats him and welcomes the reign of God. See 2 Peter 3:11-12: "You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming."

"Thy will be done." Though we rightly pray this prayer when submitting to God's sovereign will in areas that are painful to us (as Jesus did before he was crucified), it should be mentioned that the following words "on earth as it is in heaven" give this request a different flavor. The idea is that God's will (in the sense of his commandments) is perfectly obeyed in heaven by saints and angels - but here on earth he is disobeyed and his will is held in contempt. We must pray for ourselves and others to do his will - that is, to obey his commands.

"Lead us not into temptation." God's Spirit led Jesus into temptation (Matthew 4:1), but he was stronger than we and could not fail. We admit that we are failure-prone, and must pray as Jesus instructed his disciples: "Pray that you will not fall into temptation" (Luke 22:40).

"Deliver us from (the) evil (one)." God keep the devil away from all of us.

As you read through the New Testament, notice how nearly all the prayers and prayer requests are spiritual in nature. Paul, for example, prays that people's love would deepen (Philippians 1:9), and asks for prayer that he would not be a coward (Ephesians 6:19-20). I suppose he also prayed about things like Timothy's bad stomach, but when he brings up that matter he chooses to talk about medicine rather than prayer (1 Timothy 5:23).

So pray against sin, and pray for holiness. I'm sorry to say that you will never lack material for these prayers. Your newspaper will furnish you with endless accounts of crime and evil and depravity. The selfish, worldly behavior of your coworkers and relatives alone can probably keep you busy praying quite a while. But most of all, unless sin has so blinded you as to make self-perception impossible, you will find that your own heart manages to keep refilling its store of wickedness that, like the stubborn demon in Mark 9:29, can only come out by prayer. When you pray against sin, pray most fervently against your own.

When Other People Really Are Holier Than You (December 12, 2004)

We ought to be humble. As an aid to humility, compare yourself unfavorably to someone you know in an area where that person's virtue exceeds your own. This should be pretty easy. Unless you are either very holy or very undiscerning, you will constantly run into people who are much better than you are at doing something that pleases God.

I am a bit hacked off these days about my neighbor doing such a better job of neighboring than I. (We're as close geographically as neighbors can be: we share a wall in a duplex.) Let's see: he fixed the hood of my car by bending it back into shape after an accident. He brings over a couple dozen Rumanian cabbage rolls whenever he cooks a batch. He strings Christmas tree lights across the entire front of our shared property. He gets the paint for our wood trim and sealer coat for our common driveway. He won't take my money for anything - he doesn't cash my checks and he returns whatever cash I give him for his help and maintenance. And I think, "Rats. I'm the Christian evangelical pastor and the way this is supposed to work is that he's supposed to wonder why I'm such a great guy."

But rather than compounding my sin of neighborly indolence with neighborly envy, I suppose the right thing to do is be humbled and give thanks to both God and to my neighbor, and try to be like him.

I have always liked the self-aware humility shown by Judah in what he said about his daughter-in-law Tamar and in what Saul said to David: "She is/You are more righteous than I." (Genesis 38:26; 1 Samuel 24:17). Judah and Saul were deeply flawed men, but at least they had the decency to recognize that and acknowledge the righteousness of those who were somewhat less flawed. Elijah too, in 1 Kings 19:4, said, "I am no better than my fathers." He was discouraged when he said that, but that does not make his observation any less accurate. He probably really wasn't any better than his fathers. James goes as far as to say that "Elijah was a man just like us" (James 5:17).

Well, may not like all of us. Somehow I have a feeling he was still more righteous than I.

The Cab Test Of Good Character (December 5, 2004)

My sons were late getting ready for school yesterday, so as punishment I tuned the car radio to a Christian station and made them listen to a preacher they can't stand.

I can't stand this man's preaching either. He's orthodox, but shallow
and vapid and syrupy - and every time I hear him I wonder, "How can
anybody listen to this guy?" Yesterday, as he concluded a message by
wrapping emotional phrases around an endlessly repeated tagline, my
boys shouted, "Turn him OFF! PLEASE!"

I did, but as I pulled up into their school's parking lot I said, "OK,
he's not a good preacher, but he is a good man."

"How do you know?" Ben asked.

I explained that a friend of mine in seminary knew of this man's quiet
and honorable work behind the scenes. Also, a pastor I know once got
in a taxicab and the driver, hearing his vocation, talked about what a
great guy this preacher was. Apparently the cabbie did not even know
that the preacher was a radio personality - he just knew him as a
really friendly pastor who sometimes rode in his cab.

There it is - the cab test! It is a test of character that the world's
Martha Stewarts and Barry Bondses could not pass to save their tiny
little souls. The bigness of a man's heart can be gauged by the
accumulation of small graces he extends to cab drivers and waitresses
and barbers and bag boys and checkout clerks. Do well by them, and,
for what it is worth, you have my regard. Snub them and I won’t like
you.

Etched in my memory are a couple scenes from the Bogota Group House where I stayed briefly as a missionary about 13 years ago. One day a Colombian boy, face flushed and sweaty, brought in heavy bags of groceries and was placing them on the kitchen counter when by accident a jar of jelly fell out and broke open on the floor. A snappish lady missionary glared at him and cranked out mean words about him needing to be more careful. You have no idea how delighted I was a few days later when the exact same thing happened to her as she brought in the groceries. Plop, crash, and a mess of broken glass and gooey food on the floor. The only thing missing to complete the poetic circle of justice was a nearby superior to chew her out for it.

Be pleasant. This should not be that hard. Though certain accomplishments remain out of our reach (I'll never be organized; that radio preacher will probably never craft a compelling insight), I think anybody can learn to be gracious - or at least more gracious - if he puts his mind to it. Work hard to acquire the simple virtues of grace and good cheer. Even the cab drivers will notice.

A Foolproof Wish? (November 28, 2004)

I was intrigued by a question posed to Marilyn Vos Savant, columnist
for Parade magazine and holder of the Guinness record for "Highest IQ." A reader sent her the following poser: "In stories, a wish granted by a genie never turns out as expected. The request always backfires. Can you think of any wish that couldn't possibly go wrong?"

She responded: "One answer appears at the end of the column. But before you look at it, readers, exercise your mind and think of your own answers. The question isn't as easy as it seems. For example, you could wish for youth but find that it ruins your marriage. Or you could be granted a fortune only to see your children drop their career goals. What wish is foolproof?"

What do you think - is there such a thing as a foolproof wish?

I was surprised by Marilyn's answer - surprised, I mean, that she thought it was a good one. She said, "One could wish for happiness." This does not work at all. What if you are a serial killer, and your happiness consists of carrying out lethal desires and never getting caught? Or what if you are the kind of person who could be a perfectly contented slave trader, and the fulfillment of your wish plunged society into despicable 18th century practice with regard to Africans? You might be happy enough, but at the cost of being wicked, and at the cost of doing unspeakable harm to others.

Solomon got closer to a foolproof wish when he asked for wisdom. (The story is in 1 Kings 3:5-15.) The Lord was pleased with Solomon's request, because he had not asked for something selfish like long life or wealth or the death of his enemies (or, for that matter, happiness.) He wanted to benefit the nation that had made him king, and so asked for a gift that would help him rule well. The best wishes are like that: selfless, seeking the good of others, more concerned with how to bless than how to be blessed.

This focus on benefiting others is what guided the Apostle Paul's wish list. In 1 Corinthians 14, for example, he contrasts the gifts of tongues and prophecy and says, "I would rather have you prophesy" (verse 5). Why? Because "He who speaks in a tongue edifies himself, but he who prophesies edifies the church" (verse 4). Better to build up the church (or one's family, community or world) than oneself. Even when it came to the most delightful thing that Paul could think of - enjoying the presence of Jesus - he subordinated that wish for the good of the church. While facing possible execution, he wrote, "I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far" (Philippians 1:23). But he decided "it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith" (verses 24-25). He was telling his readers that he would do his best to stay alive strictly for their sakes!

No genie will ever grant you a wish, but God might grant you a few. Wish for the best things. Wish to benefit others. That is the closest you'll come to a wish you will never regret.

Invite A Friend. Do it. (November 21, 2004)

Have you invited anyone to church lately?

If you haven't, I encourage you to feel guilty about that, and let godly guilt spur you to ask someone to attend with you.

Please don't wait for a special event, or a religious holiday, or "Invite-a-Friend" Sunday. I think those are the worst times to invite a newcomer. It sends the message that a worship service is something you go to just when there is special music, or it's Christmas, or we've set aside a particular day for first- (and usually only-) time visitors. No, invite your friend for a Sunday when everything is ordinary - weekly prayer, Scripture, congregational singing, preaching of the Word. That way they'll know what to expect if they come back next week. Also, on a regular Sunday, they will be less likely to be lost in a crowd of other first-time visitors.

But do invite them. What have you lost if they say no? What might you gain if they say yes? Some people, whom you invite as a mere courtesy, or because you feel guilty, or just because your pastor asked you to, might shock you by actually showing up this Sunday. I read once that a high percentage (can't remember what) of unchurched people responded "Yes" to the poll question, "Would you visit a church if a friend invited you?" Of course, saying "Yes" to that question does not mean that they would follow through. But at least the majority did not say, "Are you kidding me?" And you never know what person has been so thoroughly prepped by the Holy Spirit that he responds with, "Funny you should ask! Just this week I was just thinking about going to church for the first time in years."

Non-Devotional Bible Reading (November 14, 2004)

As you read through the Bible, don't worry about whether you are getting anything out of it. Just keep reading.

It seems to me that some well-meaning preachers burden us unnecessarily when they insist that we discern God's special message to us in our daily Scripture reading. There may not be a special message for us - at least not right then and there. There is no need to get frustrated over that. Don't worry if the story of the Amalekites getting crushed has not touched your heart in a special way. Just read it, try to understand, and go on to the next chapter tomorrow.

I think daily Bible reading is kind of like physical exercise. If you keep exercising, it gradually transforms who you are (or maintains who you are, if you are already in good shape.) This happens even if the exercise session itself is neither ecstatic nor pleasant. I jog (believe it or not). I don't like to. But I like the long-term effects of lower blood pressure, lower heart rate, higher energy, etc. Now the thing to notice is that these effects take time to manifest, and they certainly are not part of the exercise experience. Your heart rate and blood pressure actually go up when you exercise, and your energy level goes down (way down, in my case, and fast). Does that mean that my jogging is a failure, that I'm doing something wrong? Of course not. The whole idea is to pant and feel miserable during exercise so that you won't pant and feel miserable when you're just walking up stairs.

Read the Bible, and if you feel that on any particular day you have learned nothing, accomplished nothing, drawn no closer to God, felt no touch of his Spirit - do not fret about that. And for heaven's sake don't let such feelings discourage you from regular study of the Word. Sometimes we can no more discern what God is teaching us than we can detect precisely that moment when diligent exercise has dissolved a bit of artery gludge. Ultimately, of course, we will learn if we read (as we will be healthier if we jog), but to expect that the process itself be uplifting and the payoff immediate is too much to hope for. Be released from that spiritual burden.

Ministering Out Of Weakness (November 7, 2004)

I saw a video clip the other day of an Oklahoma Sooners football player giving a loud and raucous pep talk to his teammates who were gathered in a tight circle around him. After he finished, the other players left but the camera stayed fixed on him as he stood alone for a few seconds. Then he began to wobble like a hypoglycemic who has stood up too fast. He collapsed in a faint so sudden I don't think he had time to buckle his legs.

It was pretty funny. It turned out he was all right, and he even went back into the game later and made a big play.

The fainting defensive tackle struck me as a metaphor of many good Christian servants. These saints do not always look like warriors animated by our Lord's holy energy. Sometimes they look more like sick goofs lying flat on their backs with their eyes rolling back in their heads.

I suppose John Wesley looked that way when a friend came to visit him and found the great evangelist's bad wife dragging him across the floor by his hair. Mother Theresa did not look so strong when she confided to her priest that she doubted her faith and felt no connection to God. In his youth, C. S. Lewis was subjected to impulses which, though not homoerotic, were clearly perverse. The two greatest preachers of the 19th century, Charles Spurgeon and Alexander Maclaren, trudged through crippling psychological depressions - Maclaren even had to leave the pulpit for a year.

My favorite pastor in Colombia was Hernando Cubillos, a quiet man of real depth and humble good cheer. Once when a guest speaker did not show up at church Hernando took the pulpit and spontaneously gave his testimony. He said that he had been fired from his missionary job some years before because he was scared and had not been getting anything done. His supervisor said, "He's useless! Get rid of him!" Hernando told us that that firing "todavia deja sus huellas" - it still leaves its marks (on me).

But, thanks be to God, Hernando was restored. Like the football player who fainted and returned to the game, Hernando came back to the ministry. His role model was John Mark, a missionary who was also fired for just cause (Acts 15:37-38; see 12:13) but who later proved useful to the very apostle who fired him (2 Timothy 4:11).

Listen, any of you who are discouraged. Let us say you are divorced. Or you've spent time in a psych ward. You thought you taught your children well but they treat you and your faith with contempt. The pep talk you gave that so encouraged others has had no such effect on yourself. Spiritually, psychologically or even physically you are lying flat on your back and feeling a mixture of shame, embarrassment and hopelessness.

You may need to lie there for a while to get your bearings. That happens to just about everybody who has tried something hard. But you will get up in due time and continue. Take as your own the great words of 16th century Scottish naval captain Sir Andrew Barton, immortalized in ballad:

"Fight on my men," says Sir Andrew Barton,
"I am hurt, but I am not slain;
I'll lay me down and bleed a while,
And then I'll rise and fight again."

Knowledge Is Good (October 24, 2004)

Learn things.

God built into our nature the thirst of inquiry and the joy of discovery. These instincts are generally to be encouraged - though, like any instinct, they can be indulged wrongly. Eve wanted to know what it would be like if she ate the wrong fruit, and Saul wanted to get military advice from a dead man's spirit. Those forays into forbidden knowledge were disasters. But the general rule remains: ask, seek, and knock, and you will receive, find out, and walk through open doors.

I believe that God deliberately created an insanely complex universe so that we could never get to the bottom of interesting things. We are his guppies, his goldfish, and I suppose he could have poured us into a featureless glass bowl with no place to go and not much to look at. But he dumped us in an ocean - an endless expanse of scientific, historical, philosophical and spiritual complexities that beckon us to swim around in them and marvel.

I confess I sometimes wish things were simpler. I wish there were an elegant formula that produced all and only the prime numbers. I wish I knew why head injuries affect morals. I'm so flummoxed by an exegetical/spiritual issue that I toyed with calling Pastor Cole on WMBI's Open Line this week (but what if people who know me recognized my voice? It would be so embarrassing).

Things aren't simple, and everywhere the mind looks it finds problems to wrestle with and puzzles to wrangle over. The good news is, some things are actually comprehendible. The search for wisdom does in fact yields results. In Luke 11, where Jesus is condemning people who have clogged their brains with hostility, he pauses to commemorate the example of Sheba, "Queen of the South," who came from the ends of the earth to learn from Solomon. 1 Kings 10 tells how she tested Solomon with hard questions, and came away saying (I paraphrase), "Wow! You're smart!" She made the effort to learn, and was rewarded.

Preachers have always liked pointing out that St. Paul, who knew he was about to die (see 2 Timothy 4:6) still asked Timothy to bring him his scrolls, especially the parchments (2 Timothy 4:13). The aged missionary on his deathbed still wanted to study!

You're busy, I know, but take time to learn stuff. Researchers are telling us that active learning can stave off the effects of age-induced senility, and they may be right. (You can't be sure because they seem to keep coming out with new studies that contradict the old ones.) Learn good stuff. As I tell my boys, it does not count if you can expertly recite the dialogue of a 1000 edgy cartoons. It does count if you can quote C. S. Lewis on a 1000 subjects because you've read everything he's written at least twice.

Brain-Damaged Believer (October 17, 2004)

Sam Kinison may have helped me solve a problem I've always had with Phineas Gage.

Kinison was a preacher-turned-comedian who flourished in the 1980s and was killed in a car accident in 1991. If you ever heard one of his stand-up routines, you would not believe that he had once been a minister. He was the most profane, vulgar, blasphemous comic of his (or maybe any) generation. He also drank, did drugs and cheated on his wife - deeds which all became grist for his comedy.

Until last week that was all I knew about Kinison. He was a creep (though a funny one) who fled the Lord and did ungodly things with manic energy. But then I saw a documentary which brought out some facts that made his life story very interesting. In the year before he died, Kinison started cleaning up his life, quitting the drugs and drinking and carrying on. A week before he died, he said to his best friend, Carl LaBove, "I don't know why I'm supposed to tell you this, but I feel I should tell you - get things right with God." LaBove answered, "Sam, if anybody needs to get it right with God, you do!" He agreed.

LaBove and Kinison's brother Bill were following Sam's car a few days later when it was involved in the head-on collision that took his life. When they raced to where Sam lay they heard him saying, "I don't want to die! Why now? Why? Why?" And he kept repeating, "Why? Why now?" Then, as Labove held him in his arms, Sam looked up and spoke as though to someone unseen. He said, "Oh. O.K...O.K...O.K," and, appearing to accept his fate peacefully, passed away. His brother said, "I don't think anybody could be there and not believe in an afterlife - not believe that he wasn't communicating with somebody." LaBove said, "Somebody said the right thing, and Sam heard it, and he left with them."

One more detail: when he was three years old Kinison had nearly been killed in another accident. A truck hit him, causing severe head trauma. He went into a coma and experienced grand mal seizures. His brother said that when they brought Sam home from the hospital, his personality had changed so much that he thought it was a different kid. Quiet, peaceful Sam suddenly became aggressive, impulsive and uncontrollable. He pretty much stayed that way for 35 years.

Why do I connect Kinison with Phineas Gage? Because Gage is the world's best known head-injury case. He was working as a railroad foreman in 1848 when a tamping iron, nearly 4 feet long and over an inch in diameter, shot right through his head. It entered below his left cheekbone, came out the top of his skull and landed 25 yards away, having blasted out a chunk of his brain. Amazingly, he remained conscious and alert. He rested a few weeks and went back to work.

But, in the words of his coworkers, he was "no longer Gage." Though still strong and intelligent, his personality degraded. His doctor wrote, "He is fitful, irreverent, indulging in the grossest profanity (which was not previously his custom), manifesting but little deference for his fellows, impatient of restraint or advice when it conflicts with his desires."

So - a good man lost a piece of his brain and turned bad. What does my Christian faith have to say about that? I'll admit that this problem has long nagged at me. I'd prefer to think that any man's kind and steady disposition is due to the moral choices he makes, or, if he is a Christian, to the presence of the Holy Spirit within him. But doesn't Phineas Gage (and others like him) give the lie to spiritual explanations of goodness? Do responsible behavior and calm temper turn out to be nothing more than the products of a well-ordered brain? I myself do not cuss, cheat, make lewd comments or rage out of control. But hit me hard enough in the head and it looks like I might do just that for the rest of my life. I cannot deny that the thought unsettles me.

But Sam Kinison's story may shed a little light. Because I'd like to think that, for all Sam's iniquities, and whatever their source, God had mercy on his soul. God knew more precisely than we ever could what percentage of Sam's immoral behavior came from his choices and what came from a truck-battered cerebrum. I think God kept working with Sam. His brother said that even through all the years of careening profanely through life, Sam still considered himself a Christian. If God abandoned Sam, then why toward the end of his life did Sam come stumbling back to God as well as his warped and impulsive nature would permit him? And if Sam were irredeemably reprobate, why would the Lord comfort him during his final breaths? (Assuming we accept his friend's and brother's interpretation of what happened in those final moments. I do.)

The Bible says that God "knows how we are formed. He remembers that we are dust."(Psalm 103:14). I'm thankful for that. I will assume that God's perfect justice takes into account all the blows that pound and buffet the dust we are made of. At the same time, I'll not forget that some us are made of perfectly serviceable dust, and suffer no great hindrance to choosing good. In my case, I can't say that I'm aware of any bone chip pressing against my brain that inclines me toward evil. It would be nice to have that excuse, but I don't. So I would do well to remember that the same Bible that assures us of God's understanding and mercy also warns, "To whom much is given, much will be required." (Luke 12:48).

Humility And Success (October 10, 2004)

To fulfill a noble purpose you must first kill pride.

As I read Shelby Foote's classic history of the Civil War, I am amazed at how often grown men squabbled over petty differences as their nation teetered on the brink of ruin. With thousands of lives at stake, generals and statesmen (on the same side!) snapped at each other over insults and snubs and the issue of who would get glory or whose career would be advanced.

Much of Abraham Lincoln's greatness can be found in his ability to keep above that fray. One November night in 1861 he went to visit General George McClellan at his home in Washington. Informed by a servant that McClellan was at a wedding, Lincoln, along with Secretary of State William Seward and undersecretary John Hay, waited for him to get back. When the general returned, the servant told him that Lincoln was there to see him. McClellan walked right past the room where Lincoln and his associates sat. A half hour later, wondering about the delay, they sent the servant to fetch him and were told that he had gone to bed!

As the three trudged back to the White House, Hay angrily denounced McClellan's rudeness. But Lincoln, Foote writes, "quietly remarked that this was no time for concern over points of etiquette and personal dignity. 'I will hold McClellan's horse if he will only bring us success,' he said soon afterward."

You could almost say that Lincoln won the war right there. Lincoln had his priorities right. What mattered was winning, not worrying about little things like whether people treated him with respect. In
wartime, a leader must dismiss insults like an athlete dismissing minor injuries during a game. Stuff your ego. Take the pain. Play on.

(As it turns out, Lincoln was dead wrong about McClellan, whose ineptitude soon revealed him as maybe the worst general in the history of the United States. The vain fool couldn't win a game of tiddlywinks against children, much less secure victory for the Union. But no one knew that in 1861.)

In today's Chicago Tribune, I read that Joe Tinker and Johnny Evers, famed double-play infielders for the World Champion 1908 Chicago Cubs, hated each other. They had some falling out and didn't even speak to each other until the 1930s. But, as baseball historian Gabriel Schechter writes, "Their overriding desire to win overcame any personal problems." That “overriding desire to win” is exactly what basketball teammates Shaquille O'Neal and Kobe Bryant did not have this past season. The two best players in the game went down to defeat because neither could squelch personal pride for the sake of a higher purpose: another NBA championship.

Pastor Rick Warren has been reminding us all in recent years of the need to lead "purpose-driven" lives. Grab hold of a good purpose, like the glory of God, the evangelization of the lost, the edification of the church, or the pursuit of holiness - and don't let pride screw up your attainment of it. Be prepared, like Lincoln, to march right through the slings and arrows of outrageous offenses to your dignity. Don't let such piddly things deter you. You're big enough (that is, humble enough) to take it.

Heaven’s Citizen On Earth (October 3, 2004)

My sons' high school is in mourning today. A student, Roosevelt (Rosie) Jones, collapsed and died while playing a pickup basketball game Sunday evening.

I knew Rosie. Not well, but I had met him and talked with him a number of times while playing ball at the YMCA. I have been favorably impressed with all the Neuqua High players I've met over the past couple years - they’re really good kids - but none was more courteous,pleasant or joyful than Rosie. He was a 6'5" skinny black kid, simple-natured, with a huge smile and a high-five for everybody, even for a fat, 40-plus white guy like me who didn't belong on the same court. I remember his eyes widening with eagerness when he asked me, "You a coach?" No, just a fan - but, hey, thanks for thinking I might be a coach.

After talking basketball with him one time I came home and told my son Ben that Rosie was one of nicest kids I ever met. Ben confirmed that he was just the same way at school. I later found out that Rosie was so popular that, in blowout games where Neuqua's subs got to play, students in the stands would chant, "RoSIE, RoSIE" till the coach put him in.

What I didn't know was that Rosie was a Christian. This morning's Chicago Tribune says that Rosie's "passion for basketball was exceeded only by his Christian faith." He led the team prayers, was active in his church, and planned to go to a Christian college in order to be an evangelist some day. I'm not surprised.

May God grant that his example continue to speak to those who remember him. Rosie not only articulated his faith, he lived it. By age 17 he achieved what I have always longed for but stumbled short of attaining - the grace to project Christ through transcendent personality. The Apostle Paul calls it being the "fragrance of Christ" (2 Corinthians 2:15). An aroma like that can live in the memory, and I pray it will do just that for those who knew Rosie. May many of them be drawn to the Source of Rosie’s joy.

No Lies For Good Causes (September 26, 2004)

Value the truth. Cling to it more dearly than life itself.

A friend sent me a quote from 19th century Scottish novelist George MacDonald which read, "I would not favor a fiction to keep a whole world out of hell. The hell that a lie would keep a man out of is doubtless the very best place for him to go to. It is truth, yes, The Truth, that saves the world."

I researched that quote and found it came from a story where a minister meets a reclusive parishioner whose house is filled with books. The parishioner says that he has bound some of the books himself, and has done it so well that the minister would not be able to distinguish his bookbinding from that of a professional. He says, "I'll give you a guinea for the poor-box if you pick out three of my binding consecutively."

The minister goes to the shelves and actually does pick out three of the self-bound books. But when the bookworm, embarrassed, hands him the guinea, he refuses to take it on the grounds that his last selection was a random guess. Amazed and amused, the man rebukes his pastor: "Couldn't you swallow a small scruple like that for the sake
of the poor even?...You're not fit for your profession. You won't even tell a lie for God's sake...You won't even cheat a little for the sake of the poor!" That is when the minister responds by saying that he would not advocate a lie even to keep people out of hell.

Good for him. Once you compromise truth, you undermine all the good things (like helping poor people, or keeping sinners out of hell) that spring from truth. No good thing depends on a lie for its support, and no lie upholds some goodness that wouldn't be better off without it.

About the time I read that MacDonald quote, I came across a statement by Feodor Dostoevsky, author of The Brothers Karamazov and Crime and Punishment, that staked out an opposite claim. Philip Yancey writes that after 10 years in a Siberian gulag, Dostoevsky "emerged from prison with unshakable Christian convictions, as expressed in one famous passage, 'If anyone proved to me that Christ was outside the truth...then I would prefer to remain with Christ than with the truth.'"

Amazing - Dostoevsky would willingly build his faith on that which he knew to be a lie! I cannot agree with Yancey that this expresses "unshakable Christian conviction." All that it expresses is mind rot.

When you say that you would follow Christ even if he weren't true, you are saying that your faith is built on sand. Perhaps it is the sand of feeling, or expediency, or inner warmth, or social reform or who knows what else. Those things are all shifty, wind-blown mineral chaff. The only worthy anchor for conviction is truth. If you explicitly deny that your foundation needs to be true, then why should we believe anything you say?

A few years ago my niece went looking for a place to live and came across an older couple with an upstairs room to rent. While talking to them, she made a connection and realized that the man would know her grandfather (my father), who died in 1980. He said to her, "You're Lowell Lundquist's granddaughter?" He sat down in a chair and his eyes filled with tears. He said, "Lowell Lundquist was the most honest man I ever knew."

I cannot tell you how much it means to me, how privileged I feel, to have been raised by a man no less honest than the minister in George MacDonald's story. Be like that. For God's sake, never lie. Never cling to a known falsehood, no matter how much good you think might come from it.

The Misunderstood Hero (September 19, 2004)

One of the more compelling themes in literature is that of the misunderstood hero. In Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, for example, the slandered Darcy is despised by the woman he loves, yet his integrity and good will force him to conceal from her his integrity and good will. You can find another long-suffering hero in the film The Terminal, where Tom Hanks' character is loudly and publicly berated by a janitor friend - yet he cannot tell the janitor how, at terrible cost to himself, he has just saved him from prison.

When the "misunderstood hero" theme is told well in a good story, it creates in the reader or viewer a desire for the rest of the characters to know the truth. You want to jump in and tell them, "No! He's a good man! You don't know what really happened!" You hope that the author will treat you (and the characters) kindly by making everything plain in due time. The hero must be vindicated before things get tragic. It is not enough for him to be good - he must be known to be good. The saddest thing is to come to the end of the story and the truth remains unknown: the good man is still hated and the people are still deceived. That is how the film Arlington Road ends, with worthy victim Jeff Bridges branded falsely, and forever, as a
mass-murdering terrorist.

I have always loved C. S. Lewis' idea in Myth Become Fact that story themes planted deep within our cultures are preludes to great truths. I believe that the "misunderstood hero" theme is one such myth-become-fact. In our story - reality - God is the misunderstood hero. People think miserably wrong things about him - that he does not exist, or that he is capricious, uncaring, impossible to please, indulgent of evil, or some other such falsehood. And given our world's fallenness, and our own, it is not surprising that these slanders against God are propagated and believed. But we who know the truth want to shout to a deceived world, "No! You don't understand! He is good! He is filled to overflowing with more goodness than you can possibly imagine. You must learn to know him as the God who is good, and you must love him as such."

Though we must believe the truth about God for truth's own sake, and love him simply because it is wrong not to, it cannot be denied that in so doing we will also reap a benefit of joy. It is not only just and right that Elizabeth should come to understand Darcy's true character - there is also delight for her when she does so, and joy unspeakable when she accepts a marriage proposal from this, the worthiest man in England. When the misunderstood hero is at last comprehended - his goodness valued and his grace received - pleasures multiply for the one who is blessed to know the truth about him.

Maybe Your Influence Will Take A While (September 12, 2004)

Last night I received a pleasant surprise.

I checked back with a friend who had called me a week ago about a conflict he was stuck arbitrating. Two women at his church (I'll call them "Euodia" and "Synteche" - Philippians 4:2) were in a disagreement that threatened to engulf the congregation. I talked to Euodia, who I felt was mostly in the right but who nevertheless needed to let the matter go and not seek confrontation. I told her my reasons for that, and she listened politely and told me thank you but she would still proceed with the disciplinary protocol of Matthew 18. I felt that was a big mistake, but what could I do? I had made the best case I could. She just didn't want to follow my advice.

But when I called my friend last night to find out how badly things had blown up, he said that Euodia had decided not to press the matter, and that she and Synteche had apologized to one another and were even praying for each other! Glory to God. I cannot say that I influenced Euodia (it sure did not seem like it when I talked to her), but at least I will allow myself to be glad that what I counseled and what she did happened to coincide.

For those of you who try to teach or persuade or counsel - and yet meet with discouraging resistance - be aware that sometimes your words just need to stew for a while (and mix with other influences) before they yield a result. A young couple with Wycliffe Bible Translators once told me about their discouragement when they presented the work of Wycliffe at Christian campuses and got no response from the students. I told them, "But I was one of those who never responded!" A visiting missionary would present his work, and I wouldn't stay or ask questions or sign interest cards. I'd file out quietly - but go back to my room and wonder whether the Lord was calling me to be a missionary. My "yes" to mission service was preceded by a thousand blank-faced "no's." Nobody knew they were influencing me.

Years ago my mother tried to influence my interpretation of a set of Bible passages. She was not successful - we just disagreed. I wonder if that discouraged her. Her son was going to be a pastor and he had the wrong view about something! But in later years I came to see that she was absolutely, 100 percent right. It still amazes me that I now echo a line of hers that I once so hotly debated.

In Matthew 21:28-31, Jesus told the parable of a father who tells his two sons to go work in the vineyard. One says no and the other says yes. But the one who said yes didn't go, and the one who said no changed his mind and went. Jesus asked, "Which of the two did what his father wanted?" Clearly the one who initially said no.

Don't get too discouraged over a “no.” Sometimes there is a quiet “yes” lurking beneath the surface that persistent good influence will some day push to the top.

Be Fruitful And Multiply (September 5, 2004)

Christians should have more children.

A couple days ago I was pleased to meet the Cassidys, who have 14 children, 90 grandchildren and 75 great-grandchildren. I told them they were blessed by God, quoting from Psalm 127:3-5: "Children are a heritage from the Lord...and blessed is the man who has his quiver full of them." Not surprisingly, they both knew the passage well.

Many years ago, inspired by that verse, my father made a plaque with the word "QUIVER" and attached it to the tent-trailer that we used to haul on our summer vacations. It still amazes me that that we could jam our large family into those tiny sleeping quarters. But we managed. With ingenuity a small quiver can hold many arrows.

There can be good reasons for limiting family size, but the older I get the more I think that selfishness and materialism are the real reasons that we don’t want to admit. I don't accept the excuse many couples give that they "can't afford" children. What they can't afford is a lifestyle more opulent than they need. When Linda was pregnant with our firstborn, a couple told us that they were delaying starting a family until they were financially ready - though their income was at least triple ours. To them, "ready' was a house with a yard and who knows what else. Well, Linda and I went ahead recklessly and had Ben and he did not starve. Neither did Peter, though I never grossed more than $20,000 a year until he was well into grade school. Are my kids malnourished? Have they had to scrounge for scraps in a homeless shelter? Nah. They're fine.

I never felt deprived growing up, though I shared a 10- by 12-foot bedroom with two brothers and slept in a triple bunk bed with coffin-like head clearance. And even if I had felt deprived and crowded - so what? That is no price to pay for the joy of having two brothers whom I love like, well, brothers.

Children aren't a burden. They're a blessing. As God grants you the opportunity, be fruitful and multiply.

Honoring Vows (August 29, 2004)

Reflecting upon Rosita's faithful care of her incapacitated husband from his stroke in 1993 until his death last week has called to mind some thoughts about wedding vows.

I was startled by the words of the pastor who conducted the wedding for my friends Doug and Linda. He talked about their vows with a forthrightness you seldom hear. He said, "You are committed to one another 'for richer or poorer, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health.' Doug, there may come a time when Linda gets very sick. You must care for her. Linda, there may come a time when Doug is worse as a person than he is now. You must remain with him."

Thankfully that pastor's words have not proven prophetic - Linda has stayed healthy and Doug has only gotten more Christlike. But the pastor put his finger on something that young people in the thrall of love seldom think about. Things can get worse in unpredictable ways. Your beautiful wife may succumb to Multiple Sclerosis, or Parkinson's, or dementia, or become a quadriplegic - and you will become her caretaker. Your devoted husband may turn into an irritable, contemptuous, self-absorbed jerk - and you'll be stuck with an unhappiness that no counseling can alleviate. But it is just for cases like these that we recite vows in the first place, promising before God and witnesses to keep loving each other till death parts us. No one would need to promise that if love always remained easy.

The pastor who spoke those compelling words to Doug and Linda got divorced sometime later. So did the Reverend who married my Linda and me. I don't know why - never heard the details of either case. I do know that some terrible sin must have been committed, because either adultery or abandonment led to a biblically warranted divorce (Matthew 19:9 and 1 Corinthians 7:15), or because someone dissolved the marriage in contempt of the God before whom they recited their vows. There is no such thing as a no-fault divorce. Divorce always involves sin. That is not to say that those who get divorced have sinned. I like to say that divorce is sin just as murder is sin. A killer and his victim are both "involved in" a murder, but they do not share equal blame. Same thing with rape - it is a gross cruelty to lump together those who commit such a crime with those who are victims of it. It is wrong to assume that all divorcees are marital sinners. Remember that but for an angel's intervention, the most blessed woman who ever lived would have been a divorcee (Matthew 1:19).

You cannot control what your spouse does, becomes, or falls victim to. You can control what promises you make and whether you will fulfill them. If you are single, then do not take wedding vows unless you plan to abide by them. Look around at failed marriages, and determine that "as far as it depends on you" (Romans 12:18), you will not fail. Consider those who became sick and could not (or bad and would not) respond to their spouse's love. If you are ever on the painful side of such deprivation, will you still love? If not, then marry not.

And if you are already married, then "take note of those who live according to the pattern we gave you" (Philippians 3:17) and imitate them. Imitate Rosita's steadfast devotion whenever it is your turn to do so. God bless your marriage. God bless the faithful fulfillment of all your vows.

When You Are Tired Of Doing Good (August 22, 2004)

A prayer I like to say for people who are serving the Lord is that they "not grow weary in doing good" (Galatians 6:9).

Many a servant of God has grown weary and cynical - just plain sick and tired of seeing his good efforts come to naught. Or sometimes worse than naught. "Naught" means zero, but sometimes our labors actually seem to result in a net loss. When the kind-hearted soul sees a bad result springing from his good deed he is tempted to say, "Why did I bother? It would have been better if I had done nothing!"

Remember the boy who handed his lunch to Jesus and saw him multiply it to feed a crowd of thousands? I like to think that that event inspired him to be generous for the rest of his life. See what miracles happen when you give! But suppose the next time he gave his lunch he watched bullies use it as ammunition in a food fight. After an experience like that he might decide afterward to hold his lunch bag a little tighter and say, "This is mine. Go get your own."

It is important to draw a distinction here. A bad result to a kind deed may indicate that the good intentions were not wisely channeled. For example, if a man finds that his efforts to evangelize the lost are alienating people, it may be because he has been disobeying Jesus' command to move on when rejected (Luke 9:5), and he has not been following Jesus' example to leave uninterested people alone (Luke 8:37). A generous giver finds that he has been funding laziness because he was not making the poor work for it (Leviticus 19:9--10), and was not taking their worthiness into account (1 Timothy 5:9-10). A faithful wife winds up with a sexually transmitted disease and an abused daughter because she mistakenly forgave her pervert husband without insisting first on his repentance as a condition of reconciliation. (Luke 17:3). In all such cases, the foolish saint must learn from his mistakes and others'. Many disasters result from good intentions feeding unwise practice.

But sometimes the practice is wise and the intention is holy and the result is still bad. This is when the best of men can "grow weary in doing good" - just too spiritually tired to keep doing the right thing. Have you never known a servant of the Lord who got burned in a ministry, or in a marriage, or in a profession, or in a church - and then just gave up trying? I have. I myself have borne the burden of soul-weariness more than once, and will regret till the Lord wipes my memory clean the sin of not having tried again, or tried harder.

I take courage in the example of a heroine of mine, my sister Grace Washburn. A couple weeks ago, at my niece's funeral, my nephew David said that he had wondered why, in 1988, his parents adopted yet another child after all that they had suffered with previous adoptees and foster children. Grace and her husband Ron specialized in taking in abused and abandoned kids, wards of the state. Many of these proved to be "black holes" of love, unable or unwilling to give back any of the kindness shown them. Some committed crimes - against the Washburns and others - and wound up in prison. David asked, "After all the love that my parents gave to them and they threw it all away, why would they do it again?"

They did it again because God called them to care for needy children, and they would do so without growing weary until God said stop. Sixteen years ago, their efforts were rewarded with little Annie, a sick, Down Syndrome girl whose skin was as black as coal but whose spirit was bright as a fireworks display. Annie received love, and gave it back, and we were all privileged to watch love multiply around her like the fish and loaves that multiplied around Jesus. Annie is with the Lord now - her heart finally gave out. But her life and the love that surrounded her stand as a testimony to the value of refusing to grow weary in doing good. The rest of Galatians 6:9 reads, "Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."

Never give up doing what you know to be right.

The Godly Duty Of Inducing Guilt (August 15, 2004)

It is necessary that sinners feel miserable in the presence of God and his saints.

In his book, What's So Amazing About Grace? Philip Yancey writes about a prostitute who came to visit a friend of his who works with down-and-outers in Chicago. The woman was "unable to buy food" for her two-year-old daughter. Through tears she explained that she had been renting out her toddler by the hour for kinky sex with perverts in order to get money for drugs. (She couldn't buy food, but she could sell her daughter to get high.) When Yancey's friend asked if she ever thought of going to church, she said, "Church! Why would I ever go there? I was already feeling terrible about myself. They'd just make me feel worse."

Yancey believes this woman's avoidance of church is an indictment of it. He writes, "What struck me about my friend's story is that women much like this prostitute fled toward Jesus, not away from him. The worse a person felt about herself, the more likely she saw Jesus as a refuge. Has the church lost that gift?"

What? Now wait just a minute. First of all, is it really accurate to say that "women much like this prostitute fled toward Jesus"? Maybe a few exceptional ones did, but it is likely that the vast majority kept plying their trade, steering well clear of the Preacher who was so stern about sexual sin that he would equate mere lust with adultery. The woman caught in the act in John 8 did not "flee toward Jesus" - she was dragged unwillingly before him. (And - a point often missed - he never said it was wrong to stone her. That is, after all, what God had commanded. The problem, as Jesus pointed out, was that all the judges had disqualified themselves.) The five-husbanded fornicator in John 4 never fled toward Jesus - she only talked to him because he happened to strike up a conversation with her (a conversation where he quickly dug up the root of her iniquity). I think it is fair to say that the only prostitutes who fled toward Jesus were the ones who were willing to feel terrible in his presence, like the sinful woman in Luke 7 who cried enough tears on his feet to wash them clean.

Secondly, just what is wrong about "being made to feel worse" in church? The apostle Paul speaks of this not as a danger to be avoided but as a goal to be pursued! 1 Corinthians 14:24-25: "If an unbeliever or someone who does not understand comes in while everybody is prophesying, he will be convinced by all that he is a sinner and will be judged by all, and the secrets of his heart will be laid bare. So he will fall down and worship God, exclaiming, "God is really among you!" This is a good thing. A sinner in church should not feel warmed and blessed, but convicted and ashamed. In 2 Corinthians 7:8-9 Paul speaks of his joy over the results of his efforts to induce this shame: "Even if I caused you sorrow by my letter, I do not regret it. Though I did regret it - I see that my letter hurt you, but only for a little while - yet now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us."

Sorrow as God intended does no harm. Our problem today is not that prostitutes might feel bad in our churches, but that sinners in general feel so good in them. When Isaiah (presumably a decent man by our standards) came into the presence of God, he cried, "Woe is me!" When righteous Job heard God, he said, "I despise myself." When Peter saw Jesus' power, he said, "Depart from me, I am a sinful man." When the tax collector approached the temple he said, "God be merciful to me, the sinner." When Paul the Persecutor saw Jesus, he refused food and water for three days.

But today we who speak for God wring our hands before the sinner and say, "I’m so sorry! Did I make you feel bad?"

I cannot for the life of me see how the Church in North America has "lost the gift" of attracting evildoers. What it has lost, rather, is the will to confront them, and the gracious courage to stir up godly guilt in them. God have mercy on us if unrepentant souls leave our worship services saying, "That was great! I just felt so uplifted today."

Which Sins Do You Choose To Confront? (July 25, 2004)

Last week I said that some sins are worse than others. This week I'm wondering why we are more willing to confront some sins than others. Is it because they are truly worse in the eyes of God, or because for some reason they rankle us more? Or perhaps because they are easier targets?

Leadership Journal records the responses of four evangelical pastors to the question, "What's the most important thing you want to say, pastorally, to a homosexual couple?" Disturbingly, none of the four even addressed the question, much less gave what I thought was the obvious answer: "Repent." I imagined these pastors standing with John the Baptist and shaking their heads in dismay as John tells Herod, "You cannot have your brother's wife." (How alienating! Now Herod will be offended! He’ll regard us as adulterophobes. How will he ever come to know how kind and loving and joyful we are if we tell him he has to repent? And who are we to judge a man who clearly was born with a promiscuous orientation?)

It interests me that we evangelical pastors are not nearly so wishy-washy about challenging sinners when the issue is dear to us and less politically sensitive. My favorite example is the oft-cited passage in the book Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire, where Pastor Jim Cymbala savages the sin of gossip. He tells new members:

I charge you that if you ever hear another member speak an unkind word of criticism or slander against anyone - myself, an usher, a choir member, or anyone else - that you stop that person in mid-sentence and say, "Excuse me - who hurt you? Who ignored you? Who slighted you? Was it Pastor Cymbala? Let's go to his office right now. He'll apologize to you, and then we'll pray together so God can restore peace to this body." But we won't let you talk critically about people who aren't present to defend themselves.

I'm serious about this. I want to help you resolve this kind of thing immediately. And know this: If you are ever the one doing the loose talking, we'll confront you.

I was deeply impressed with this quote when I first read it, and used it in a sermon. But now I'm wondering, does Cymbala take the same approach with other grave sins? (Maybe he does! Please understand I am not criticizing him at all. I’m just wondering.) If the sin were fornication rather than slander, would he urge members to confront the sinner on the spot? Imagine a pastor telling new members, "I charge you, if you ever hear another member say, 'I'm living with my fiancé,' you stop that person in mid-sentence and say, 'Excuse me? You're living in sin? Let's go to the pastor's office right now so you can repent.' I want you to resolve this thing immediately. And know this: If you are ever the one doing the cohabiting, we'll confront you."

Maybe that is exactly what he would say, and if so, I applaud his consistency. But what I'd like to know is just what is the set of sins concerning which it is our duty to stop the sinner cold and insist on immediate repentance. Abusing drugs? Having an abortion? Viewing pornography? Refusing to tithe? Getting drunk? Using a racial epithet?

Just wondering.

Are All Sins Equally Bad? (July 18, 2004)

I think one of the devil's favorite games is to get people to obliterate moral distinctions and lump unlike things together.

What spurred this thought is a comment I heard on WMBI by a Christian counselor who said, "We have many fat preachers condemning gays, but no gay preachers condemning gluttons." It's a line designed to get a laugh and provoke reflection over how shameful it is that we treat some sins as more damnworthy than others. Who are we to condemn homosexual sin while giving ourselves a free pass on overeating? The Bible says gluttony is wrong, but many of us are afflicted with this weakness, and so, like gays, we are all sinners in need of God's grace and his unconditional love that meets us where we are blah blah blah blah blah blah.

I am tired of these false moral equivalencies that trivialize perversion. It is true that everyone is a sinner and in need of God's grace. It is also true that a saint like Mother Theresa and a beast like David Berkowitz (Son of Sam killer) must both receive forgiveness through faith in Christ. But it is not true that all sins are the same. Gluttony and sodomy are not comparable, and it is not equally valid for a glutton to rebuke a sodomite as the other way around.

More times than I can count I have heard evangelicals utter the careless statement that "All sins are equally bad in God's eyes." No they aren't. Jesus explicitly denies this in his statement to Pontius Pilate, "He who delivered me over to you has the greater sin" (John 19:11). Only if sins differ in severity can one be regarded as "greater" than another. Likewise, when Jesus says that it will be "more tolerable" for Tyre and Sidon on judgment day than for Korazin and Bethsaida (Matthew 11:21-22), it is hard to see why Tyre and Sidon should get off easier unless somehow their sins were not as bad as those of the other cities.

With regard to gluttony and homosexual practice, it doesn’t take an Einstein to see from the Bible which sin is worse. The Old Testament does not prescribe the death penalty for eating too much, but it does for gay sex (Leviticus 20:13). The New Testament does not use pigging out as an example of a sin to which the wicked are "handed over," but it does so for homosexual indulgence (Romans 1:24-27). I don't see gluttony listed among the sins that keep people out of the kingdom of heaven. But gay practice listed there (1 Corinthians 6:9-10).

And as for the social cost - my goodness. I have never met a woman who did not want to go on living just because her husband had gotten thick around the midsection. But just about any pastor can relate stories of poor, distraught, near-suicidal women who did not know what to do after their husbands had left them and the kids for another man. And though a fat guy may give himself a coronary before his time, at least he's not spewing a virus that has taken, and continues to take, tens of millions of lives.

Wisdom requires us to assign degrees of value to what is good and degrees of opprobrium to what it evil. To lump together all sin into one indistinguishable mass is intellectually lazy and biblically dishonest. A careless refusal to distinguish greater from lesser sin tends to mask true outrages, and gives false comfort to evildoers who ruin others' lives and imperil their own souls.

Some gifts are greater than others (1 Corinthians 12:31). Some expressions of love are greater than others (John 15:13). And yes, some sins are greater than others too.

Does Goodness Unite? (July 11, 2004)

Goodness is the great divider.

I thought about this theme when my son asked prayer for a friend whose parents are on the brink of separation. It is one of those cases where one partner is good and the other is evil. Here the husband is pleasant, mature and courteous, and the wife is foul-mouthed, hostile and (I think) under-medicated. She is insisting that he get out and leave her all the money.

Their troubled relationship illustrates what I have long regarded as a massive flaw in the marriage counseling industry: the assumption that, if you become a better husband or wife, it will make your spouse a kinder and better person too. This is not true. What is true (generally) is that if your spouse is already good, your goodness will delight him and make him better. If he is bad, your goodness will anger him and make him worse.

An under-appreciated teaching of Jesus is that his holy presence would generate discord rather than unity. He said, "Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law - a man's enemies will be the members of his own household" (Matthew 10:34-36). This division was not purposeful, but a simple matter of fact. People's inclinations toward good or evil would snowball in opposite directions as they met Christ. His goodness would divide them.

Rather than acknowledge this painful truth, it seems to me that much of the Christian community chooses instead to fear that others will disapprove of them. “If they don't like us, we must be doing something wrong. Worse, if they don't like us, they won't become Christians!” That may be so, but don't worry about it. Do what is right, do what is pleasing to God, and let people respond this way or that however they may. Certainly it is good to be loved, but the goal of inspiring other people's love must never be allowed to trump the goal of doing right. Nazis and pedophiles and terrorists (and even some spouses) will never like us no matter what we do - or they may offer to keep us in their good graces only if we sacrifice the holiness that they find displeasing. We can't do that. We must simply remember that goodness divides, and ever will divide, and we must never regret any goodness that has met with either cool indifference or hostile opposition.

Martyred missionary Jim Elliot said it well when he wrote in one of his journals, "Let me not be a milepost on a single road: make me a fork, that men must turn one way or another on facing Christ in me."

If You Loved (July 4, 2004)

In the movie Critical Care, a comatose old man is kept alive by artificial means as his daughters argue about disconnecting him. As the story develops and involves doctors, lawyers and hospital administrators, we see that this (possibly) brain-dead old man is a pawn in a game where millions of dollars are at stake.

He cannot communicate, and the only visible sign of life is that his fingers constantly tap the bars on the side of his bed. This activity is ascribed to random neural firing. But an aide, knowing that the man had served in the navy, wonders if he might be tapping out Morse code. Indeed, when he translates the taps into dots and dashes they signal, over and over again, the words, "If you love me."

The movie never tells us whether the message is a coincidence or the man's deliberate attempt to communicate. Most likely it is neither, but rather a message from God to all those involved the case. The movie makes the point that the actual decision whether or not to disconnect matters less than what is motivating the decision. “If you love me,“ and the sentence hangs there for others to complete. Let us assume that there is no money involved, no career at stake, no selfish emotions to indulge, no policy to follow. If you loved me - and that was the only thing you had to consider - well, then, what would you do? Disconnect or leave connected? If the answer is obvious, then do that.

In Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis writes, "The rule for all of us is perfectly simple. Do not waste time bothering about whether you 'love' your neighbor; act as if you did." When you "act as if you did" you not only do the right thing, you find also (maybe) that your good work has pulled some affection along behind it. Lewis continues, "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."

Play this game with yourself. Pretend that you loved someone, and were motivated so purely by love that all your natural self-interest was magically snatched away. What would you do?

Let Us Help One Another To See Excellence (June 27, 2004)

If you ever rent the movie Amadeus, watch for the scenes where Salieri describes Mozart’s music. At one point Salieri tells a priest about a time when he looked at some sheet music Mozart had written. As the aged composer replays the notes in his head, he speaks with increasing rapture about the effect the music had on him. He says,

On the page it looked...nothing. The beginning: simple, almost comic. Just a pulse - bassoons, basset horns. Like a rusty squeeze box. And then, suddenly, high above it, an oboe. A single note, hanging there, unwavering. Until...a clarinet took it over. Sweetened it into a phrase of such delight. This was no composition by a "performing monkey." This was a music I had never heard. Filled with such longing. Such unfulfillable longing. It seemed to me I was hearing the voice of God.

What makes the scene so effective is that we hear the music as Salieri is describing it, and so we get to share his wonder. Without Salieri's commentary, we (or at least I) could not fully appreciate the glory of the music. But when he speaks of the oboe's unwavering note, and the clarinet's "sweetened phrase of such delight," we ourselves feel just how they convey that unfulfillable longing, and we agree that Mozart, despite himself, was inspired by God.

Praise excellence, especially when you have the gift of seeing it where others do not. When you give voice to your appreciation, you increase others' joy by enlarging their experience of what is good. My own experience of what is good has been enhanced by Bob Costas when he describes the brilliance of a Willie Mays' catch, or by Gary Wills when he traces the power of Lincoln’s phrasing in the Gettysburg Address, or by Michael Behe when he explains the complex design of a bacterial flagellum.

We ought to tell one another the things that we love, and why we love them, and how they fill us with wonder. Excellencies can lead the mind to contemplate God, for he is Father to all that is good and right and beautiful and sweet. Salieri was right: through Mozart's music we hear the voice of God. We can hear his voice in other things too, but need one another's help to detect it.

The Number 1 Rule For Being A Good Father (June 20, 2004)

Father's Day has just passed, and I ignored it in the pulpit - just as I ignore Mother's Day, Labor Day, Independence Day, Memorial Day, etc. in all my sermons. (It's a policy.) But I'm not against Father's Day, and I want to take this opportunity to tell you the number one rule for being a good father.

It is this: Love your wife. Be faithful, gracious and affectionate toward the mother of your children. Do all you can to provide your children with the most stable home environment possible. If you can't do that, then don't tell me how much you love your kids. Loving your kids demands sacrifice, and for many men the greatest sacrifice they will ever make is that of treating their wives with constant, faithful affection - especially those wives who are evil, bitter, cruel and dishonest.

I'm fed up with hearing of men who, though they have treated their wives shamefully, are nonetheless extolled as "good fathers." Some of these men even to presume to lecture us on fatherhood! A few days ago, I heard Pastor Gordon MacDonald on WMBI's Midday Connection responding to callers' questions about how to nurture their kids. MacDonald, as some of you know, cheated on his wife and had to resign his pastorate and the presidency of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. Before the story of his adultery broke, when I was at Wheaton College, MacDonald bragged to a group of us pastors-in-training about how well he treated his wife and kids. (This was in September of ’81.) Now I see he still manages to refer favorably to his own parental example. Boy do I wish the evangelical community would tell him to shut up!

Two days ago I saw Jesse Jackson at a Southside Chicago Barbeque that celebrated fatherhood in the African-American community. How can he even show his face there, having sired a bastard himself just a few years ago?

This morning's newspapers relate sordid details from Senatorial candidate Jack Ryan's divorce proceedings. Ryan had sought to keep the records sealed "out of concern for his son." Baloney. What Ryan was trying to protect was his political career. Someone needs to tell Ryan that if he really loved his son, he would not have subjected the boy's mother to the degrading shame of sex club tours.

Let's get this straight: Men, just as your first duty to your wife is to love God, so your first duty to your children is to love your wife. Yes, I know there are extreme cases where it's impossible - I know three men who had to whisk their children away from demon wives just to protect the poor kids from abuse. But those are exceptions. The general rule is laid out in 1 Peter 3:7: "Husbands, in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives, and treat them with respect as the weaker partner and as heirs with you of the precious gift of life, so that nothing will hinder your prayers."

Not only your prayers will be hindered if you are inconsiderate to your wife. Your standing as a father will be diminished too. No man gains greater stature in the eyes of worthy children than he who, year after year, treats his children's mother with respect, courtesy, affection, and unfailing love.

The Good Fruit Of Matheson’s Dark Despair (May 30, 2004)

George Matheson's great hymn, "O Love That Will Not Let Me Go," came to mind while I was preparing a message on Jesus' response to the despair of John the Baptist. As he waited in prison, John sank so low in discouragement that he sent word to Jesus asking, "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?" (Luke 7:19). Matheson likewise reached a place of darkness so severe that he came to doubt his faith - and this on the eve of entering the ministry! The elders of his church gave him time to collect himself, and he recovered his faith and went on to become one of Scotland's great preachers of the latter 19th century.

Matheson's darkness was literal - in his youth his vision was poor and he became completely blind by the age of 20. But his mind was a marvel, and he could memorize whatever was read aloud to him. His sermons - including all Scripture texts - he recited with such fluidity that visitors to his church often did not realize he was blind.

Extraordinary minds often dwell on extraordinary difficulties, and Mattheson was the sort who would probe answerless questions to the point of anguish. On the night of June 6, 1882, he experienced a "most severe mental suffering," the source of which he never revealed. The hymn that he then sat down to write he called "the fruit of that suffering." He wrote it in five minutes, as though taking dictation, and never again wrote another hymn as easily or as easily remembered. Here are the words - may they bless you.

O Love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine's blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life's glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

Baptismal Commitments, Part 2 (May 23, 2004)

Last week I wrote about the first of five commitments that I give young people to consider before I baptize them, namely, "I will be a Christian all my life." Here are the remaining four commitments:

2) I will attend church and worship God regularly all my life.

I think it used to be more generally understood that it was a Christian's duty to meet with other believers, at least weekly, to worship God. But nowadays it doesn't seem that enough people get this. A pastor friend alerted me to a statistic that even "highly committed" Christians attend church only about 35 times a year. The other 17 Sundays they find something else to do.

This is a scandal, and reflects a distressing trend that, I fear, will shortly lead us to Western-European decadence where churches are mostly empty and less than five percent of the population attend them at all. Nearly everyone in Western Europe, even those who claim to be Christians, "find something else to do" on Sunday mornings. Even here, I see that fewer and fewer Christian homes resemble the one in which I was raised, where church attendance was a given - neither a virtue, nor a sacrifice, but a simple fact of life. On rare occasions my father had to take care of an emergency at work (he fixed two-way radios for ambulances and police cars), but other than that he was in the house of the Lord with the rest of us.

Nowadays just about anything keeps people away from church, and so the message needs to be made explicit and unmistakable: Christians worship God together with his people. They pray, praise, give thanks, receive instruction, participate in holy communion and offer their gifts. They do not look for reasons to stay away. They do not hold God in contempt by denying him their part of the worship that is his due. If a person wants to be baptized as a follower of Christ, I make it clear that we'll expect to see him in church regularly, worshiping the Lord, till death or the Second Coming.

Commitments #3 and #4 have to do with our communication with God: (3) I will talk to God by praying to him, and (4) I will listen to God by learning from the Bible.

I purposely leave out details about the timing, duration and frequency of prayer and Bible study. I don't time my own prayers, believing that that practice ministers more to pride than it does to discipline. I also say "learning from" rather than "reading" the Bible to allow leeway for believers who are illiterate, or poor readers, or who benefit more from listening than from reading.

But the general point is this: Christians have a devotional life in which they talk to God and listen to him. By talking to God I mean prayer - giving thanks and praise, confessing sin and offering requests. By listening to him I don't mean dreaming up a dialogue in our heads and labeling one of the voices "God" (a baneful practice that results in some of the most ridiculous things I have ever heard Christians say). I mean simply listening to his voice in Scripture. He speaks through that. Christians study the Bible to understand the will and ways of God.

Finally, #5: If I get married, I will only marry another Christian.

I like to get this point in early, to middle school students if I can, before they are even thinking of marriage - before any serious, marriage-tending relationships start. Plant the seed early, so that the disobedient act of marrying an unbeliever becomes unthinkable before it ever becomes a temptation. 2 Corinthians 6:14 insists that we not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. Finding oneself unequally yoked is never a reason to terminate a marriage (see 1 Corinthians 7:12-13), but a single believer must never knowingly enter into such a marriage.

Our relationship with Christ supersedes all other relationships. Fewer repudiations of this union are clearer than the decision to commit to a life-long, intimate union with someone who rejects him. Don't get baptized in the name of Jesus if you plan to, or think you could, be yoked to someone whose unbelief might drag you away from the Lord.

Baptismal Commitments, Part 1 (May 16, 2004)

A couple weeks ago I wrote about the tension between the biblical practice of baptizing people immediately - as soon as they're converted - and the similarly biblical practice of warning people to "count the cost" before committing to Christ. Today and next week I would like to tell you some of the "counting-the-cost" details as I teach them to middle school students in a baptism class. I give baptismal candidates a sheet with these five statements on it:

1) I will be a Christian all my life.
2) I will attend church and worship God regularly all my life.
3) I will talk to God by praying to him.
4) I will listen to God by learning from the Bible.
5) If I get married, I will only marry another Christian.

I don't make the young people sign anything or raise their hands or take an oath - I just want them to think carefully and soberly about what they are doing. Here are some reasons why I make these commitments explicit:

1) "I will be a Christian all my life." There is a cloud of sorrow that hangs over my life, and it is the fact that I personally know people who "used to be" Christians. I am not saying anything about the doctrine of eternal security - I'm just saying that I have known lots of people who once said they were Christians, and acted like it, and gave good evidence that they were sincere; but now give no sign whatsoever that they love, serve, or even believe in Jesus. I can't understand it. What were they thinking when they became Christians in the first place - that they would "give it a shot" for a few years and then dump the Lord as soon as the mood struck them? How did Jesus fail them? Did he rescind his sacrifice on the cross? Did he stop ruling the universe? Did he cease to be the one whose face they will see after their death, and to whom they will render account? For the life of me I don't know how anyone could walk away from the Lord. But people do, and I have seen it, and I don't know how to stop it.

But I can at least warn people in advance, and I feel it is a duty to warn converts as they approach the act of publicly sealing their commitment to Jesus in baptism. This commitment is forever. A marriage covenant must last a lifetime merely, but our covenant with Christ is eternal. In baptism, we say that we belong to Jesus Christ now and for all time. He will never forsake us - God forbid that we should ever forsake him. It is better not to get baptized at all than, having been baptized, to abandon the faith we once expressed.

The remaining four commitments, Lord willing, I will discuss next week.

Sunday-School Goodness In The Arena Of War (May 9, 2004)

I am a big fan of the late Stephen Ambrose's books on World War II - D Day, Band of Brothers, and Citizen Soldiers. In one of his books (can't remember which) he talked about the difficulty of trying to gauge the likelihood that a young man would act heroically in battle. Sometimes the macho, strong, tough guy in boot camp would turn into a whimpering coward under fire, while the quiet, nervous fellow morphed into a Medal of Honor recipient. One pattern that emerged, Ambrose noted, was that the heroes tended to come from peaceful Christian homes where the children all went to Sunday School. Contrary to stereotype, the guy you wanted in your foxhole was the soft-spoken, clean-cut Bible reader - not the tattooed, foul-mouthed dispenser of venereal disease.

The need for a devout Christian presence in our military has been heightened in recent days by the release of all those sick photos depicting the abuse and humiliation of Iraqi prisoners at the Abu Ghraib prison. A question that crossed my mind in seeing those pictures was, "Weren't there any Christians guarding those Iraqis?" Apparently not. I like to think that a simple, Bible-believing Christian would have acted to prevent the abuse. Even if he could not stop it, a humble Christian would intervene as best he could, rebuking the perpetrators and reporting the matter to his superiors. The real Christian knows that he must always do the right thing no matter what, because, ultimately, he is answerable to God.

On October 8, 1918, a Christian sergeant named Alvin York did the right thing by heroically firing bullets into the heads of 28 German combatants. He and his small squad of eight men captured 132 soldiers that day, all of whom meekly surrendered rather than face the wrath of God's little warrior. But York was no bloodthirsty sadist. He was a kind-hearted Christian man who labored mightily in prayer before he overcame his reluctance to kill.

York was the kind of hero we needed in that Iraqi prison, because the Christ-centered man who is strong in battle is also humane in victory. A hero is a hero whether he is vigorously killing the enemy or conscientiously sheltering prisoners of war. Likewise, a creep is a creep whether he is running from battle or forcing the vanquished into positions of homoerotic barbarity.

As I have followed the Abu Ghraib scandal, I have seen all the usual excuses for our soldiers’ bad behavior, like "They were just following orders." Oh no, not that again. There is never a good reason to followa bad order. As I discussed this matter with my son Peter, I explained that the Holocaust resulted from ordinary people following bad orders. He responded (showing how well he understood) that Hitler did not personally stuff six million Jews into ovens. Right. Atrocities happen when cowards numbly carry out the dictates of villains, and not enough good people object.

Another excuse I've been hearing is that our abusers had received no training in the handling of prisoners. Granted, they should have been trained, but I'm still left wondering, as I look at the goofy grins of American soldiers humiliating their charges, "Didn't anyone ever train you how to be a minimally decent human being? Did you really need to take a class in that?" Maybe they should have gone to Sunday School.

“Forgiving Yourself” Is A Bunch Of Nonsense (May 2, 2004)

I would like to speak against the doctrine that we must forgive ourselves.

I do not know how this doctrine got started. It is not in the Bible. As far as I can tell, it is not in the writings of any church father, pastor, theologian or evangelist before the latter part of the 20th century. I would be happy to stand corrected on this, and will welcome any quotes on self-forgiveness from before, say, 1960. My gut tells me that you won't find Augustine or Luther or Edwards or Wesley or Spurgeon or any giants of the past talking about our need to forgive ourselves.

Today, though, self-forgiveness is preached as a duty such that the failure to do it is considered a sin against God. Here for example are some quotes from influential pastors whose congregations number in the thousands:

"The past is over! God has forgiven you! Forgive yourself!" Ron Lee Davis.

"The bottom line is this: Not forgiving ourselves is wrong and dishonoring to God." R. T. Kendall.

"When we say that we cannot forgive ourselves, we depreciate the value of Christ's sacrifice." Erwin Lutzer.

I differ from these sentiments with a zeal that borders on outrage. Forgiving yourself neither honors God nor depreciates the sacrifice of Christ. Quite the opposite: it is an abomination, because it usurps the role of God.

One thing I have noticed in my research on forgiveness is that when Christian writers advocate forgiving ourselves, they never quote Scripture to support their point. The reason they don't is because they can't. There are no such Scriptures. In the Bible, when it comes to pardoning sins, God is the one who does all the forgiving, and we are the recipients of his grace. The Pharisees understood this when they objected to Jesus telling a paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven," for they thought, "Who can forgive sins but God alone?" They were right. All the sins that the paralytic had committed, or that anyone has ever committed, are crimes against God. God alone has jurisdiction over them. He alone determines what to punish and what to forgive. Therefore, claiming to forgive sins (except for that small subset of sins committed against us) is a claim to be God. Jesus' pronouncement of forgiveness was a none-too-subtle claim to deity.

We mere human beings simply don't have jurisdiction over our sins. We have committed them against God and others, and must beg their forgiveness and be grateful for their mercy. It is absolutely ridiculous - a sickening arrogance, to forgive ourselves. The best we can do is recognize that we have been forgiven. But that is as far removed from "forgiving ourselves" as "recognizing that we are saved" is from "saving ourselves." This distinction is not trivial, it is not a matter of semantic pickiness. Grace, like salvation, must never be regarded as reflexive or self-generated. It is all one way, from God to us.

I am willing to grant that when Lutzer and Lewis Smedes and others tell us to forgive ourselves, they don't really mean it. They are not guilty so much of advocating a monstrous usurpation of God’s prerogative as they are of using the word "forgive" a little carelessly. Even so - even granting that point - I still disagree with what these Christian writers seem to be saying when they urge us to self-forgive.

As best I can make out, they are saying, "Stop beating yourself up over past wrongs. It is time to move on. Forget the past." In the words of Ron Lee Davis, "If you have been unable to forgive yourself for some sin in your past,...then [the Apostle] Paul would say to you, 'The past is over. Forget what is behind. Move out into the future with your eyes fixed on God and His love.'"

That is garbage. The Apostle Paul would say nothing of the kind. It is abundantly clear from his writings that the one thing he never forgot was what a terrible sinner he was. Some 30 years after his conversion, toward the end of his life, he wrote to Timothy saying, "I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man," and, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners - of whom I am the worst." He dutifully revisited this truth to the very end - and rightfully so, because the memory of his great sin was a constant reminder of God's great grace.

The most recent issue of Christianity Today tells the story of John Newton, author of "Amazing Grace." Newton had been a captain of a slave-trading vessel, and, even as a converted Christian, continued for years ferrying slaves across the Atlantic. He would read the Bible and commune with God in his cabin while up to a third of his "cargo" lay dying in the hull below. Later, Newton gave up the slave trade and became an abolitionist. God forgave his slave-dealing, but Newton never forgave himself. Professor Mark McMinn writes, "As Newton's eyes opened more fully with each passing year, he became horrified at his sin. One of his friends later recalled that he never spent 30 minutes with Newton without hearing the former captain's remorse for trading slaves. It was always on his mind, nagging his conscience while reminding him of his utter dependence on God's forgiving grace."

That is as it should be. We don't forgive our sins, and we don't forget them. Let them serve, as long as we live, as reminders of God's grace and as spurs to provoke gratitude for his love.

Baptism Quick And Biblical (April 25, 2004)

I like to point out that it is biblical to baptize very quickly. On the day of Pentecost 3,000 people were baptized moments after they heard the first gospel sermon ever preached (Acts 2:41). The family of the Philippian jailer heard the name of Jesus for the first time just after midnight, and were all baptized by dawn (Acts 16:25-35). The Ethiopian Eunuch heard the gospel and then minutes (at most, hours) later was baptized in ditch water by the side of the road (Acts 8:36-38). And after hearing the word of the Lord from Ananias, Paul got baptized before he broke an absolute fast that he had observed for three days! (Acts 9:9, 18-19).

A seminary professor of mine once warned us to delay baptizing people until we were sure they were ready. Then later another professor said, "I understand there are those who believe we should wait and exercise caution as to whom we should baptize. I say that the New Testament knows no such caution." As I studied the matter it became clear that the second professor had all the Scriptures on his side, and the first professor had none. In the Bible, no one has to wait to prove his sincerity before an apostle will baptize him! Simon the Sorcerer, for example, was baptized in Acts 8:13, though he quickly proved how unworthy he was by trying to buy the ability to give away the Holy Spirit. Peter told him to go to hell (Acts 8:20).

So I baptize at the drop of a hat, and, frankly, in so doing, I have probably baptized people who were no more "ready for it" than Simon the Sorcerer. One case in particular sticks in my craw. I once baptized a young woman who left the worship service with her family immediately afterward. They didn't even bother sticking around for the sermon. She never returned to church.

Now, though I never refuse baptism to an individual who, as a believer in Christ, requests it, I have learned to warn people about the seriousness of the commitment they are making. Jesus himself warned potential disciples that following him was a life-changing (even life-sacrificing) decision. He said, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me" (Luke 9:23). See Luke 9:57-62 and John 6:53-66 for instances in which Jesus' strong words seemed almost determined to drive away those who were less than whole-hearted in their decision to follow him and obey his commands.

Baptismal candidates should be baptized quickly, but not without being warned of the seriousness of sealing forever their decision to follow Christ.

Worshipping For The Fun Of It (April 18, 2004)

I'm feeling guilty over having recommended a couple weeks ago to sing louder because it was "more fun" - as though the goal of fun should motivate praise. Should it?

Probably not. Not that there is anything wrong with fun. Like sex, fun is a gift of God, but also like sex it is a dangerous thing when pursued for its own sake and in the wrong way. Just as we must channel sexual appetite into the confines of marriage, so also we must channel the yearning for fun into those areas best designed for it. A person who indulges sexual impulses indiscriminately becomes a rapist, a pervert, an adulterer. A person who seeks fun without regard for appropriate channels or restraint becomes a rude buffoon at best, a psychopath at worst.

The rush to locate "fun" at the heart of worship is a disease plaguing our churches, and I never fail to be alarmed by efforts to attract people to our houses of worship on the basis of how much fun they'll have. I have before me three letters mass-mailed to me by local churches, and all three feature the word "fun" either in boldface or all caps. Example: "At Westbrook Church you'll find friendly, accepting people and a comfortable place to ask questions - and you might just discover that church can be a lot of fun!"

So I'll have fun if I attend, but is there any chance that I, an unchurched visitor, will be convicted of sin and discover my soul's peril apart from God? When the Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthian church, he instructed them to conduct their worship with such powerful and reverent prophetic utterance that a first-time visitor would be "convinced by all that he is a sinner and will be judged by all, and the secrets of his heart will be laid bare. So he will fall down and worship God, exclaiming, 'God is really among you!'" (1 Corinthians 14:24-25). It is hard to imagine such conviction of sin occurring in a church that has labored to show its visitors that "church can be a lot of fun!" As C. S. Lewis said, "Repentance is no fun at all."

More than 100 years ago, in a message titled "Finding Sheep or Amusing Goats?", Charles Spurgeon wrote the following:

[P]roviding amusement for the people is nowhere spoken of in the Scriptures as a function of the church. If it is a Christian work why did not Christ speak of it? "Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature." That is clear enough. So it would have been if He has added, "and provide amusement for those who do not relish the gospel." No such words, however, are to be found. It did not seem to occur to Him...I do not hear Him say, "Run after these people, Peter, and tell them we will have a different style of service tomorrow, something short and attractive and with little preaching. We will have a pleasant evening for the people. Tell them they will be sure to enjoy it. Be quick, Peter, we must get the people somehow!" Jesus pitied sinners, sighed and wept over them, but never sought to amuse them.

Offering up our hearts in worship and proclaiming the gospel of Jesus are not occasions in which we should seek to amuse ourselves or others. If singing to the Lord is fun - as it was for King David (2 Samuel 6:14-15)- then wonderful! Praise God. But to proceed from that truth to the thought, "We could make this a lot more fun if we do such-and-such" is to take the first step away from the goal of glorifying God and toward the goal of indulging our desire for a good time. That selfish path leads to corruption and sin.