September 29, 2009: They Surfed The Tsunami
Last night I had dinner with an amazing missionary couple who are helping to supervise the translation of the Bible into several languages in Papua New Guinea.
Eleven years ago they were trying to get the Bible into just one language. Then a tsunami wiped out their village, killing many. (They weren’t there at the time, but their friends and co-translators were.) It seemed that their life’s work had come to an end.
If they were now atheists, you would probably point to the ’98 Tsunami as the trigger of their loss of faith. (See Pastor’s Pages January 4 and 9, 2005, for my responses to an Eric Zorn essay about the how the 2004 Great Tsunami confirmed his disbelief in God.) But John and Bonnie are still theists, still Christians, and are still putting the Bible in languages that don’t have it. They have even seen their work expand remarkably in recent years. The same God (there’s only one!) who destroyed their village and killed their friends has now led them to pioneer a technique for getting multiple translations done simultaneously. In fact, John has been asked to write a book whose working title is something like Waves of Change: How a Tsunami Furthered the Cause of Bible Translation. (My suggested title How We Help Jesus Speak Weird Languages is not being given serious consideration.)
After John and Bonnie left I told my wife that I didn’t feel worthy of them. I regard with humble awe those who, by God’s grace, turn adverse circumstances to ministerial advantage. I know that that is exactly what we servants of God are supposed to do – it’s in the manual for Christ’s sake (Philippians 1:12; James 1:2-3) - but that’s a lot harder to do than it sounds. When I was “tsunamied” by a loved one’s apostasy and desertion (on top of some other things), my outlook was less like that of St. Paul and St. James and St. John and St. Bonnie and more like that of prophetic mopes Elijah and Jonah. Look up 1 Kings 19:4 and Jonah 4:8 and you will see how those dispirited prophets basically prayed, “Lord, this isn’t working at all. What do you say you just take me home now.”
I thought about a friend who is enduring a personal tsunami. His daughter is handicapped, his wife has a disorder that leaves her unable to digest food properly and is profoundly depressed, and the economy has washed away most of his business. But he still looks to God, maker of heaven and earth, only source of comfort in life and in death. And I know that God will reward the faith he maintains even while “pinned and wriggling on the wall” like a bug in T. S. Eliot's poetic imagination. Perhaps in this life - certainly in the next – he will see how his daughter’s disability and his wife’s condition and his financial upheaval all uncovered hidden graces and resulted in ministries that would not otherwise have come about.
In 1787 John Rippon published “How Firm A Foundation”, a hymn that includes the words,
When through the deep waters I call thee to go
The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress
Not all tsunamis drown. Sometimes they lift you off your feet and tumble you end over end and deposit you miles away from the place you thought was going to be your permanent home. There – wet, bedraggled, shivering, surveying only a wasteland of destruction that stretches to the sea – you have finally arrived at the place where God has determined you can do the most good and bring him the most glory. And eventually (again, if not in this life, in the next) you will have joy.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
September 22, 2009: Nothing You Can Do Can Make God Love You More?
It is possible that I offended or disturbed some people last week by suggesting there was something we could do to “get on God’s good side”. (What I suggested was building up - rather than tearing down - the assembly of believers that is called the church, the bride of Christ.)
Whom did I offend? People who have been taught to believe that there is nothing you can do to get on God’s good side, that no action on your part can have any effect on God’s love for you. This doctrine is widespread and gathering steam in North American evangelical circles. I will call it the Yancey Doctrine in honor of its most eloquent proponent, Philip Yancey. In his bestseller What’s So Amazing About Grace, Yancey writes,
Grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us more... And grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us less... Grace means that God already loves us as much as an infinite God can possibly love.
I have heard this quote several times in sermons over the past few years, and have seen it in devotional writings. Sometimes it is edited to “Nothing you can do will make God love you more; nothing you can do will make God love you less.” But I have never seen the Yancey Doctrine attached to a Scripture reference. That is because there are no Bible verses that support it! In fact, the Bible teaches the opposite with such clarity that I’m tempted to consider it a sign of biblical illiteracy that so many evangelicals regard the Yancey Doctrine as a worthy characterization of the grace and love of God.
Start with John 14:21, where Jesus says, “He who loves me will be loved by my Father.” That flatly contradicts the Yancey Doctrine. Read it again. If you want God to love you, love Jesus.
Go to John 15:10, once more from Jesus: “If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love.” There is no subtlety in these words, no need to struggle hard to absorb a difficult thought. If you want to remain - stay, abide - in the love of Jesus, if you want him to keep loving you, and you don’t want him to love you any less than he does now, then obey his commands.
Now John 16:27: “The Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God.” The Yancey Doctrine crashes against this verse like a balsa wood plank against the rocks of Thunder Bay. To maintain the Yancey Doctrine you would have to edit this verse to read “The Father himself loves you regardless of whether you have loved me and have believed that I came from God.” But of course Jesus’ words must be allowed to stand as spoken. He was telling his disciples that they had indeed done something that made God love them: they had loved and believed in Jesus.
For a concrete example of a man who elicited Jesus’ love by something he did, go to Mark 10:17-22. There a rich man approached Jesus and asked how he could inherit eternal life. He said he had been obedient to the 10 commandments since he was a boy, but evidently he felt he needed to do more. (It turns out he was right.) Verse 21 says “Jesus looked at him and loved him.” Why did Jesus love him? A fair reading of the text suggests it was because he really was a pretty good man (at least by human standards), and was sincerely seeking the eternal favor of God. That is good - very good! - so good that it inspired the love of Jesus. Consider this: the Bible never says that Jesus looked at scheming murderers like Caiaphas or Herod and loved them. Now, if only that wealthy seeker had gone on to the next step and parted with his money (verses 21-22), Jesus would have loved him even more.
Can you really get God to love you more by being generous? Of course you can – the Bible teaches that when it says, in 2 Corinthians 9:7, “God loves a cheerful giver.” Those five words are impossible to reconcile with the Yancey Doctrine, which teaches that God loves you exactly the same whether you give cheerfully, or grudgingly, or not at all. What rubbish. In order for it to be true that “God loves a cheerful giver”, it is necessarily true that God loves cheerful givers more, or better, or to a higher degree, or with more intensity, than he loves cheerless stingy tightwads.
Bad doctrines have bad consequences. It seems to me that the Yancey Doctrine is not simply “wrong, though harmless” but “wrong and dangerous.” It is dangerous because of the way it stimulates moral license and hinders spiritual growth. We poor fallen sinners have a hard enough time doing the right thing without someone whispering in our ear, “You know, even if you succumb to that sin, God will still love you just as much as he does now.” Oh please. I don’t know about you, but I’m so weak I need every motivation possible to help me to be good. The prospect of receiving more of God’s love is a great incentive for me, even as the prospect of losing some of it provokes righteous fear. God knew that, which is why he filled his Word with admonitions that - contrary to the Yancey Doctrine - link our obedience to his love.
It is possible that I offended or disturbed some people last week by suggesting there was something we could do to “get on God’s good side”. (What I suggested was building up - rather than tearing down - the assembly of believers that is called the church, the bride of Christ.)
Whom did I offend? People who have been taught to believe that there is nothing you can do to get on God’s good side, that no action on your part can have any effect on God’s love for you. This doctrine is widespread and gathering steam in North American evangelical circles. I will call it the Yancey Doctrine in honor of its most eloquent proponent, Philip Yancey. In his bestseller What’s So Amazing About Grace, Yancey writes,
Grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us more... And grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us less... Grace means that God already loves us as much as an infinite God can possibly love.
I have heard this quote several times in sermons over the past few years, and have seen it in devotional writings. Sometimes it is edited to “Nothing you can do will make God love you more; nothing you can do will make God love you less.” But I have never seen the Yancey Doctrine attached to a Scripture reference. That is because there are no Bible verses that support it! In fact, the Bible teaches the opposite with such clarity that I’m tempted to consider it a sign of biblical illiteracy that so many evangelicals regard the Yancey Doctrine as a worthy characterization of the grace and love of God.
Start with John 14:21, where Jesus says, “He who loves me will be loved by my Father.” That flatly contradicts the Yancey Doctrine. Read it again. If you want God to love you, love Jesus.
Go to John 15:10, once more from Jesus: “If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love.” There is no subtlety in these words, no need to struggle hard to absorb a difficult thought. If you want to remain - stay, abide - in the love of Jesus, if you want him to keep loving you, and you don’t want him to love you any less than he does now, then obey his commands.
Now John 16:27: “The Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God.” The Yancey Doctrine crashes against this verse like a balsa wood plank against the rocks of Thunder Bay. To maintain the Yancey Doctrine you would have to edit this verse to read “The Father himself loves you regardless of whether you have loved me and have believed that I came from God.” But of course Jesus’ words must be allowed to stand as spoken. He was telling his disciples that they had indeed done something that made God love them: they had loved and believed in Jesus.
For a concrete example of a man who elicited Jesus’ love by something he did, go to Mark 10:17-22. There a rich man approached Jesus and asked how he could inherit eternal life. He said he had been obedient to the 10 commandments since he was a boy, but evidently he felt he needed to do more. (It turns out he was right.) Verse 21 says “Jesus looked at him and loved him.” Why did Jesus love him? A fair reading of the text suggests it was because he really was a pretty good man (at least by human standards), and was sincerely seeking the eternal favor of God. That is good - very good! - so good that it inspired the love of Jesus. Consider this: the Bible never says that Jesus looked at scheming murderers like Caiaphas or Herod and loved them. Now, if only that wealthy seeker had gone on to the next step and parted with his money (verses 21-22), Jesus would have loved him even more.
Can you really get God to love you more by being generous? Of course you can – the Bible teaches that when it says, in 2 Corinthians 9:7, “God loves a cheerful giver.” Those five words are impossible to reconcile with the Yancey Doctrine, which teaches that God loves you exactly the same whether you give cheerfully, or grudgingly, or not at all. What rubbish. In order for it to be true that “God loves a cheerful giver”, it is necessarily true that God loves cheerful givers more, or better, or to a higher degree, or with more intensity, than he loves cheerless stingy tightwads.
Bad doctrines have bad consequences. It seems to me that the Yancey Doctrine is not simply “wrong, though harmless” but “wrong and dangerous.” It is dangerous because of the way it stimulates moral license and hinders spiritual growth. We poor fallen sinners have a hard enough time doing the right thing without someone whispering in our ear, “You know, even if you succumb to that sin, God will still love you just as much as he does now.” Oh please. I don’t know about you, but I’m so weak I need every motivation possible to help me to be good. The prospect of receiving more of God’s love is a great incentive for me, even as the prospect of losing some of it provokes righteous fear. God knew that, which is why he filled his Word with admonitions that - contrary to the Yancey Doctrine - link our obedience to his love.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
September 15, 2009: How To Get On God’s Good Side
First let me tell you how to get on my good side.
You do that by being good to my wife. I have found that this works amazingly well. Ever since she and I got engaged I’ve had the repeated delight of learning about the people who have been kind to her over the years. I treasure these people like you would not believe. Lisa has often been tested with hard challenges and grievous sorrows, and everyone who stood by her, helped her and supported her will always know my lasting affection. I bet they’d be surprised to know the strength of my regard for them. I love them and can’t help loving them.
Of course it is a completely different story concerning those who have been mean to her, treated her shamefully, broken her heart, driven her to tears of anguish. Boy do I find it hard to be kindly disposed to such people. If you have been unkind to Lisa, you can’t be my friend. I’m not saying that it is right or wrong of me to feel this way – I’m just saying it is a fact about the way I am. All offenses against her are offenses against me. Halos hover around the heads of those who make her rejoice; clouds of foul stench arise from those who make her weep.
I think that these feelings of love and antipathy for the heroes and villains in her life are an echo (a distant, faint and corrupted echo – but an echo nonetheless) of our Lord’s feelings about the people who affect his bride, the Church. When Saul of Tarsus went after the Church, Jesus went after him. He knocked Saul off his donkey (assuming he was riding one), blinded him like a mole and demanded “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” (Acts 9:4). Where did the word “me” in that question come from? Thousands of preachers in thousands of sermons ever since have noted that, technically, Saul had not been persecuting Jesus (he didn’t even think Jesus was alive!), just his followers. But Jesus took it personally. He defended his beloved Church, saying, in effect, “You mistreat them, you mistreat me.”
It works the other way too. Let me put it in really crude terms: if you treat the Church well, you will get on Jesus’ good side. The Bible teaches that. In Matthew 10:42 Jesus says, “If anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple [emphasis added], I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward." Jesus likes it when you refresh his followers. And in the famous Matthew 25 passage, where Jesus says “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink” (verse 35), note that he clarifies when people did that for him: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine [emphasis added again], you did for me” (verse 40). Though some think that “these brothers of mine” refer to anybody at all, if you look up the word “brother” in passages like Matthew 12:48-49, John 21:23, Acts 11:1 and Hebrews 2:11, you will see why scholarly commentators tend to say that the “brothers of Jesus” are his followers, the Church.
Hurt a church and it won’t go well for you. 1 Corinthians 3:16-17 teaches that when it says, “Don't you know that you yourselves are God's temple and that God's Spirit lives in you? If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him; for God's temple is sacred, and you are that temple.” In this passage, the temple of God’s Spirit is not the individual human body (that’s in 1 Corinthians 6:19! Different text!), but rather the local church. Paul is saying, “Wreck a church and God’ll wreck you.”
Lend your help (through attendance, tithe, prayer, participation – all that) to a local body of believers, and Jesus will like you even more than I like the people who have been good to my wife. Or sabotage a church (whether through passive neglect or active hindrance), and you will find yourself whimpering in the doghouse of the Lord. But remember, while there, that even dogs can be redeemed (see Matthew 15:26-28), and that God, in his grace, can take a church-devouring wolf like Saul and make him the greatest Church Father the world has ever known.
First let me tell you how to get on my good side.
You do that by being good to my wife. I have found that this works amazingly well. Ever since she and I got engaged I’ve had the repeated delight of learning about the people who have been kind to her over the years. I treasure these people like you would not believe. Lisa has often been tested with hard challenges and grievous sorrows, and everyone who stood by her, helped her and supported her will always know my lasting affection. I bet they’d be surprised to know the strength of my regard for them. I love them and can’t help loving them.
Of course it is a completely different story concerning those who have been mean to her, treated her shamefully, broken her heart, driven her to tears of anguish. Boy do I find it hard to be kindly disposed to such people. If you have been unkind to Lisa, you can’t be my friend. I’m not saying that it is right or wrong of me to feel this way – I’m just saying it is a fact about the way I am. All offenses against her are offenses against me. Halos hover around the heads of those who make her rejoice; clouds of foul stench arise from those who make her weep.
I think that these feelings of love and antipathy for the heroes and villains in her life are an echo (a distant, faint and corrupted echo – but an echo nonetheless) of our Lord’s feelings about the people who affect his bride, the Church. When Saul of Tarsus went after the Church, Jesus went after him. He knocked Saul off his donkey (assuming he was riding one), blinded him like a mole and demanded “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” (Acts 9:4). Where did the word “me” in that question come from? Thousands of preachers in thousands of sermons ever since have noted that, technically, Saul had not been persecuting Jesus (he didn’t even think Jesus was alive!), just his followers. But Jesus took it personally. He defended his beloved Church, saying, in effect, “You mistreat them, you mistreat me.”
It works the other way too. Let me put it in really crude terms: if you treat the Church well, you will get on Jesus’ good side. The Bible teaches that. In Matthew 10:42 Jesus says, “If anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple [emphasis added], I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward." Jesus likes it when you refresh his followers. And in the famous Matthew 25 passage, where Jesus says “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink” (verse 35), note that he clarifies when people did that for him: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine [emphasis added again], you did for me” (verse 40). Though some think that “these brothers of mine” refer to anybody at all, if you look up the word “brother” in passages like Matthew 12:48-49, John 21:23, Acts 11:1 and Hebrews 2:11, you will see why scholarly commentators tend to say that the “brothers of Jesus” are his followers, the Church.
Hurt a church and it won’t go well for you. 1 Corinthians 3:16-17 teaches that when it says, “Don't you know that you yourselves are God's temple and that God's Spirit lives in you? If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him; for God's temple is sacred, and you are that temple.” In this passage, the temple of God’s Spirit is not the individual human body (that’s in 1 Corinthians 6:19! Different text!), but rather the local church. Paul is saying, “Wreck a church and God’ll wreck you.”
Lend your help (through attendance, tithe, prayer, participation – all that) to a local body of believers, and Jesus will like you even more than I like the people who have been good to my wife. Or sabotage a church (whether through passive neglect or active hindrance), and you will find yourself whimpering in the doghouse of the Lord. But remember, while there, that even dogs can be redeemed (see Matthew 15:26-28), and that God, in his grace, can take a church-devouring wolf like Saul and make him the greatest Church Father the world has ever known.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
September 8, 2009: What If Christianity Doesn’t Help You?
I was listening to WMBI’s Midday Connection last week and a woman described the effect that unemployment had on her husband. For the first 3-6 months he was optimistic, confident that his abilities and experience would land him a good position quickly. But after 18 months of no work, she said, he was so discouraged he was wondering whether God existed.
I find it instructive to ponder reasons why people believe, keep believing, doubt, or cease believing in God. What - in your own mind - leads you to believe or disbelieve?
What I’d like to challenge is what I call “as long as” Christian faith. By that I mean the faith of people who would say - if they articulated their beliefs - “I will believe in Jesus Christ as long as I keep my job, and my house never goes into foreclosure.” Or perhaps, “I believe in Jesus as long as my spouse is not terminally ill.” Or, “I’ll be a Christian as long as my son does not commit suicide.” Or, “I’ll trust Christ as long as my daughter is not brutally murdered.” ”But ,” continues the “as-long-as” believer, “If any of those things happen to me, I’ll regard them as perfectly legitimate counterarguments to the faith I now hold dearly.”
I think it goes without saying that “as-long-as” faith is not worthy of the Christ it claims to adore, and that we who call ourselves followers of Jesus should beware lest we be found guilty of owning a faith so shallow. I also think that the temptation to adopt "as-long-as” faith should make us think hard about how we present the good news of Jesus Christ.
When I preach the gospel I am careful to discipline myself to urge people to believe Christianity because it is true. Not because it is pleasant or helpful or inspiring (though it may well be), but simply because it corresponds to the way reality is. The doctrines of orthodox Christianity are true regardless of how you feel about them. They are true when your life is sunny and pleasant; they are true when your life is dark and despairing. The circumstances of your life and the emotions of your heart have no more influence on the truth of Christianity than they do on the fact that the circumference of a circle divided by its diameter is 3.14. Do you remember your high school geometry? The value of pi does not change when you lose your job, or your spouse leaves you, or your friends betray you, or your son slashes his wrists. I know I am putting this crudely, but God is like pi. He is who he is, and our feelings about him – whether of doubt, confidence, affection or hatred – neither cause him to pass in and out of existence nor change his character in the least.
The other day I was discussing with a friend whether true conversion could only come about through a deep feeling of brokenness. I flatly deny this. No doubt many people do bow the knee to Jesus for the first time when they are passing through a season of loss, guilt, anxiety or pain. And I think God mercifully allows those things in our lives precisely so that we will be driven to him. But I also think that a crisis of brokenness is, by itself, an inadequate basis for long-term faith, and, for many people, it is not even necessary. A conviction of the truth of the gospel is, however, absolutely necessary. Many, rushing to Jesus in a moment of distress, dump him as soon as the emergency passes. Others dump him when the crisis that brought them to him is not resolved. Others dump him when a crisis of guilt has passed but a new one of, say, discouragement has arrived.
It is harder to dump him though if you have been persuaded of the truth that God omnipotent lives and reigns, and that Jesus his Son died for sinners and rose again on the third day. That I believe, and know, and preach, and, yes, even try to prove. I have noticed that when the apostles preached the gospel, they were always appealing to reason, always seeking to engage the mind. See for example:
Acts 9:22: Yet Saul grew more and more powerful… proving that Jesus is the Christ.
Acts 17:2-3: Paul…reasoned with them from the Scriptures, explaining and proving that the Christ had to suffer and rise from the dead.
Acts 18:28: [Apollos] vigorously refuted the Jews in public debate, proving from the Scriptures that Jesus was the Christ.
What the apostles never do is tell you that the Christian faith can give you the peace of mind you always lacked, and make you a happier, more well-rounded person. I think that perceptive people have always known that present happiness is not Christianity's "selling point" (again, putting it crudely). As C. S. Lewis said, “I didn’t go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.” Right. With Lewis, I only recommend Christianity because it is true. No other benefits would compel my devotion if I thought it were false; no hardships may be allowed to weaken my allegiance now that I have received it as true.
The other day I passed by a church that had put posters on its lawn asking me if life’s circumstances left my stomach tied in knots, and if I wanted to learn how to “fly above the turbulence.” And I thought, “Oh no. I sure hope they’re not preaching Jesus as a cure for anxiety.” I’ve heard that kind of preaching all my life, and have really come to despise it. Not only does it strike me as unbiblical, it also seems to set people up for crises of faith when, after 18 months of unemployment (for example), they find themselves just as anxious as ever. (“And I thought Christianity was supposed to cure this! Maybe this faith isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”)
Look, I have no idea if you come to Jesus whether you’ll be less anxious or more happy or better off or anything like that. Maybe you will, but it’s quite beside the point. And I don’t know if Jesus will “heal your brokenness.” What I do know is that he will forgive your sins. I do not know if he will give you a deep sense of purpose and fulfillment – but I do know that he will give you eternal life.
Here is truth: Turn from your sin and believe in Jesus Christ, and some day you will see God. No circumstances can ever change that, and nothing you experience should ever give you cause to doubt it.
I was listening to WMBI’s Midday Connection last week and a woman described the effect that unemployment had on her husband. For the first 3-6 months he was optimistic, confident that his abilities and experience would land him a good position quickly. But after 18 months of no work, she said, he was so discouraged he was wondering whether God existed.
I find it instructive to ponder reasons why people believe, keep believing, doubt, or cease believing in God. What - in your own mind - leads you to believe or disbelieve?
What I’d like to challenge is what I call “as long as” Christian faith. By that I mean the faith of people who would say - if they articulated their beliefs - “I will believe in Jesus Christ as long as I keep my job, and my house never goes into foreclosure.” Or perhaps, “I believe in Jesus as long as my spouse is not terminally ill.” Or, “I’ll be a Christian as long as my son does not commit suicide.” Or, “I’ll trust Christ as long as my daughter is not brutally murdered.” ”But ,” continues the “as-long-as” believer, “If any of those things happen to me, I’ll regard them as perfectly legitimate counterarguments to the faith I now hold dearly.”
I think it goes without saying that “as-long-as” faith is not worthy of the Christ it claims to adore, and that we who call ourselves followers of Jesus should beware lest we be found guilty of owning a faith so shallow. I also think that the temptation to adopt "as-long-as” faith should make us think hard about how we present the good news of Jesus Christ.
When I preach the gospel I am careful to discipline myself to urge people to believe Christianity because it is true. Not because it is pleasant or helpful or inspiring (though it may well be), but simply because it corresponds to the way reality is. The doctrines of orthodox Christianity are true regardless of how you feel about them. They are true when your life is sunny and pleasant; they are true when your life is dark and despairing. The circumstances of your life and the emotions of your heart have no more influence on the truth of Christianity than they do on the fact that the circumference of a circle divided by its diameter is 3.14. Do you remember your high school geometry? The value of pi does not change when you lose your job, or your spouse leaves you, or your friends betray you, or your son slashes his wrists. I know I am putting this crudely, but God is like pi. He is who he is, and our feelings about him – whether of doubt, confidence, affection or hatred – neither cause him to pass in and out of existence nor change his character in the least.
The other day I was discussing with a friend whether true conversion could only come about through a deep feeling of brokenness. I flatly deny this. No doubt many people do bow the knee to Jesus for the first time when they are passing through a season of loss, guilt, anxiety or pain. And I think God mercifully allows those things in our lives precisely so that we will be driven to him. But I also think that a crisis of brokenness is, by itself, an inadequate basis for long-term faith, and, for many people, it is not even necessary. A conviction of the truth of the gospel is, however, absolutely necessary. Many, rushing to Jesus in a moment of distress, dump him as soon as the emergency passes. Others dump him when the crisis that brought them to him is not resolved. Others dump him when a crisis of guilt has passed but a new one of, say, discouragement has arrived.
It is harder to dump him though if you have been persuaded of the truth that God omnipotent lives and reigns, and that Jesus his Son died for sinners and rose again on the third day. That I believe, and know, and preach, and, yes, even try to prove. I have noticed that when the apostles preached the gospel, they were always appealing to reason, always seeking to engage the mind. See for example:
Acts 9:22: Yet Saul grew more and more powerful… proving that Jesus is the Christ.
Acts 17:2-3: Paul…reasoned with them from the Scriptures, explaining and proving that the Christ had to suffer and rise from the dead.
Acts 18:28: [Apollos] vigorously refuted the Jews in public debate, proving from the Scriptures that Jesus was the Christ.
What the apostles never do is tell you that the Christian faith can give you the peace of mind you always lacked, and make you a happier, more well-rounded person. I think that perceptive people have always known that present happiness is not Christianity's "selling point" (again, putting it crudely). As C. S. Lewis said, “I didn’t go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.” Right. With Lewis, I only recommend Christianity because it is true. No other benefits would compel my devotion if I thought it were false; no hardships may be allowed to weaken my allegiance now that I have received it as true.
The other day I passed by a church that had put posters on its lawn asking me if life’s circumstances left my stomach tied in knots, and if I wanted to learn how to “fly above the turbulence.” And I thought, “Oh no. I sure hope they’re not preaching Jesus as a cure for anxiety.” I’ve heard that kind of preaching all my life, and have really come to despise it. Not only does it strike me as unbiblical, it also seems to set people up for crises of faith when, after 18 months of unemployment (for example), they find themselves just as anxious as ever. (“And I thought Christianity was supposed to cure this! Maybe this faith isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”)
Look, I have no idea if you come to Jesus whether you’ll be less anxious or more happy or better off or anything like that. Maybe you will, but it’s quite beside the point. And I don’t know if Jesus will “heal your brokenness.” What I do know is that he will forgive your sins. I do not know if he will give you a deep sense of purpose and fulfillment – but I do know that he will give you eternal life.
Here is truth: Turn from your sin and believe in Jesus Christ, and some day you will see God. No circumstances can ever change that, and nothing you experience should ever give you cause to doubt it.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
September 1, 2009: God Bless You Please, Mrs. Lundquist
One afternoon about 20 years ago I was having a discussion with my mother about the proper etiquette for addressing names on an envelope. At one point she said, “Here’s how I like to be addressed,” and she grabbed a pen and wrote “Mrs. Lowell Lundquist”. Lowell was my dad’s name. He had died 10 years earlier. But for the remainder of Mom’s life, she honored his memory and counted it a privilege to bear the name she took on her wedding day. From that day forward whenever I wrote my mother (from Colombia where I was living) I addressed the envelope to “Mrs. Lowell Lundquist”. By that simple gesture I remembered with her the love that she felt for my father, and the joy she experienced in being known by his name.
I like to tell that story whenever I conduct a wedding where the bride takes her husband’s name. I offer a prayer for Miss Jones that it will always be a joy for her to say “I am Mrs. Smith.” And I admonish the groom, Smith, telling him that his behavior must be so noble, so exemplary, so loving, that his wife will never have cause to despise the name she bears. Let that name be to her a source of righteous pride, I tell him.
Things are different of course for older couples when they marry. My bride and I are in our 40s. At that age a woman’s professional identity may be bound to the name she has been using. None of us would know who “Joni Tada” is, but we all know Joni Eareckson Tada as that stunningly gracious and productive quadriplegic who makes us glorify God and wonder why we have not done more with our lives. And Elizabeth will always be Elliot, even though she married a couple times after Mr. Elliot gave his life to bring Jesus to the Aucas.
An older woman may also have children who share her name, and would like to keep it that way when she remarries. That makes sense too. I like the fact that my sons and I share a name, and would not want to deny that pleasure to the widowed mother of three who took my hand in marriage.
So when Lisa and I got engaged I told her to feel free to do whatever she wanted with her surname. She was happy about that, because all her job-related paperwork was in her old name, and she still had a daughter in school bearing that name. But then she said to me, “But I want to be Mrs. Lundquist!” So she worked out a compromise where she hyphenates, and now - solely for my sake, because she loves me - she endures the inconvenience of a 6-syllabled, 23-lettered name that runs off the end of the page.
I like the other name we both go by, “Christian”. It is good and short and powerful, and I’ve always preferred it to the longer and less wieldy “Protestant” or “Evangelical”. It’s an eternal name too, one that no change of status can ever alter or compromise. A mere ring can be taken off, and a tattoo removed, but “Christian” is stamped indelibly on our souls and will remain long after our mortal flesh has decayed and we are safe in the presence of God. And who could ever be ashamed of that name?
One afternoon about 20 years ago I was having a discussion with my mother about the proper etiquette for addressing names on an envelope. At one point she said, “Here’s how I like to be addressed,” and she grabbed a pen and wrote “Mrs. Lowell Lundquist”. Lowell was my dad’s name. He had died 10 years earlier. But for the remainder of Mom’s life, she honored his memory and counted it a privilege to bear the name she took on her wedding day. From that day forward whenever I wrote my mother (from Colombia where I was living) I addressed the envelope to “Mrs. Lowell Lundquist”. By that simple gesture I remembered with her the love that she felt for my father, and the joy she experienced in being known by his name.
I like to tell that story whenever I conduct a wedding where the bride takes her husband’s name. I offer a prayer for Miss Jones that it will always be a joy for her to say “I am Mrs. Smith.” And I admonish the groom, Smith, telling him that his behavior must be so noble, so exemplary, so loving, that his wife will never have cause to despise the name she bears. Let that name be to her a source of righteous pride, I tell him.
Things are different of course for older couples when they marry. My bride and I are in our 40s. At that age a woman’s professional identity may be bound to the name she has been using. None of us would know who “Joni Tada” is, but we all know Joni Eareckson Tada as that stunningly gracious and productive quadriplegic who makes us glorify God and wonder why we have not done more with our lives. And Elizabeth will always be Elliot, even though she married a couple times after Mr. Elliot gave his life to bring Jesus to the Aucas.
An older woman may also have children who share her name, and would like to keep it that way when she remarries. That makes sense too. I like the fact that my sons and I share a name, and would not want to deny that pleasure to the widowed mother of three who took my hand in marriage.
So when Lisa and I got engaged I told her to feel free to do whatever she wanted with her surname. She was happy about that, because all her job-related paperwork was in her old name, and she still had a daughter in school bearing that name. But then she said to me, “But I want to be Mrs. Lundquist!” So she worked out a compromise where she hyphenates, and now - solely for my sake, because she loves me - she endures the inconvenience of a 6-syllabled, 23-lettered name that runs off the end of the page.
I like the other name we both go by, “Christian”. It is good and short and powerful, and I’ve always preferred it to the longer and less wieldy “Protestant” or “Evangelical”. It’s an eternal name too, one that no change of status can ever alter or compromise. A mere ring can be taken off, and a tattoo removed, but “Christian” is stamped indelibly on our souls and will remain long after our mortal flesh has decayed and we are safe in the presence of God. And who could ever be ashamed of that name?
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