St. Paul Confronts Stockholm Syndrome

In the counterterrorism training I received with Wycliffe Bible Translators we were told to be aware of Stockholm Syndrome in case we were ever held hostage. Stockholm Syndrome refers to the unaccountably warm feelings some people have for those who mistreat them from a position of strong control. The phrase comes from a bank robbery in Sweden in 1973 where criminals held hostages for six days. Incredibly, the victims showed signs of emotional attachment to their captors and even defended them afterwards. In America, Patty Hearst is regarded as the poster child for Stockholm Syndrome. She was kidnapped by the Symbionese Liberation Army in 1974 and became so attuned to her captors' ideals that, armed with a rifle, she helped them rob a bank.

In our training we were not told, "Look, Stockholm Syndrome is weird, and if you ever start feeling warm fuzzies toward your captors, just stop it." Rather, we were told that victims can turn this tendency into a useful resource. If you get along with the thugs who kidnapped you and even sympathize with them, your ordeal will be more tolerable and they will be less likely to kill you. The important thing is to be aware of your own mindset, and keep tabs on your psychological state. Don't let sympathetic feelings blind you to the fact that your kidnappers have done a bad thing. Don't excuse them or become like them.

Stockholm Syndrome is not limited to hostage situations. Elements of it can be seen in battered wives who remain devoted to their husbands and in college students who bond with upperclassmen despite merciless hazing. It's in churches too. It seems to me that some pastors have managed to Stockholm-Syndrome their pliant congregations, prompting outsiders to ask, "Why do they put up with that abuse?"

I think that the Apostle Paul confronted Stockholm Syndrome in the church he planted at Corinth. It drove him nuts. He could not understand why Corinthian Christians disregarded him while favoring leaders who exploited and abused them. How could they prefer such treatment to the care and respect he showed them? He vented his frustration in 2 Corinthians 11 and 12. An excerpt:

You put up with it when someone enslaves you, takes everything you have, takes advantage of you, takes control of everything, and slaps you in the face. I’m ashamed to say that we’ve been too 'weak' to do that!...How did I show you any less favor than to other churches - except that in your case, I never became a financial burden to you? Forgive me for this wrong!...Did I take advantage of you through any of those whom I sent to you? I urged Titus to go, and sent the brother with him. Did Titus take advantage of you? Did we not act in the same spirit? Did we not take the same steps? (2 Corinthians 11:20-21; 12:13,17-18)

You can hear exasperation in his words. "What's the matter with you, Corinth? I was good to you. Why do you dismiss me but submit to egomaniacs who stomp on you?"

No one knows how the Corinthians responded to that letter. I like to think that his plea woke up some of them and made them say, "You know, Paul has a point. He never exploited us. He cared more about us than he did about himself. Maybe we have been brainwashed a little. Maybe we should take a second look at these strong-willed teachers who trash Paul and line their pockets at our expense."

An awareness of Stockholm Syndrome has tempered my anger when, like my apostolic namesake, I have seethed over the injustice of some harsh or self-centered individual being preferred to me. (Am I delusional to maintain that I'm the one who has been kind and helpful?). But if I am treated with less affection than someone who has behaved badly, I'm certainly not alone. A beleaguered pastor friend once asked me, "Paul, why in the world are they doing this to me?" A conscientious parent broke down in tears of anger and anguish upon realizing that a child preferred the estranged and neglectful spouse. Forest Gump - if you will permit a fictional example - could only look on broken-hearted and bewildered as Jennie, for whom he would have given the world, got back on the bus and went home with the guy who hit her. Maybe Swedish cops who risked their lives to rescue hostages at the Stockholm bank saw them flee into the arms of their kidnappers. It happens. Don't take it personally.

Strange as Stockholm Syndrome might seem, I think there is a good reason why it forms part of the psychological makeup of some people. It is actually a gracious gift of God that can help us obey some difficult commandments. Jesus said, "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you" (Luke 6:27-28). He said if someone "sins against you seven times in a day, and turns to you seven times, saying, 'I repent,' you must forgive him" (Luke 17:4). St. Peter said, "Servants, be subject to your masters with all respect, not only to the good and gentle but also to the unjust" (1 Peter 2:18). How can anyone be that kind, that loving, that forgiving, that deferential? It's almost impossible. You need God's grace, and God's grace usually operates through means. As a Civil War soldier needed plenty of whiskey before a surgeon could cut off his gangrenous leg, so we may need a good hard dose of Stockholm Syndrome before we can be good to people who have been bad. Let us not be surprised if sometimes we do not get the dosage exactly right.

Do not fret if you find masochistic traces of Stockholm Syndrome within yourself. Give thanks, and let that tendency do its work in helping you to forgive the unforgivable, love the unlovable, and do good to those who do little good themselves. Just beware that, in your charity toward evildoers, you do no injustice to people who have actually been good to you.

And if you are ever on the bitter receiving end of someone else's Stockholm Syndrome that has run amok - like St. Paul, or Forest Gump, or a Swedish SWAT team - be patient and rational, and try to sympathize even though it galls you. At the right time you may be able to vent your feelings like Paul did to the Corinthians, and you may be heard, and heeded, by those who are at last ready to listen to reason. Even Patty Hearst eventually came around.

How To Honor Bernard of Clairvaux

A Catholic woman at work mentioned to me that she was looking forward to "Weekend at Bernie's", a festival that her church was putting on. They would have food and drink and live bands and activities for the kids.

"Weekend at Bernie's?" I asked. I knew that was the title of a comedy from the late 80's about two guys who prop up a dead man at a party so that everyone will think he's alive. Hilarity ensues. It did not strike me as a felicitous allusion for a church to want to appropriate! But she explained that her church was named St. Bernard's. I asked if that was in honor of Bernard of Clairvaux, and she said yes.

Bernard of Clairvaux was a 12th century abbot that even Protestants like. Luther and Calvin spoke highly of him, ranking him with Augustine and Pope Gregory the Great. He is the only medieval poet I can think of offhand whose hymns of adoration we still sing today - or should still sing today.

I can actually remember two occasions when I first became acquainted with his hymns. The first was from family devotions when I was about 10. Every night we'd gather as a family and my parents would read a Scripture passage, and we would say the Lord's Prayer together, and then one of us would close in prayer with particular requests. One night my brother Dave, home from college, added a wrinkle. He suggested we sing a hymn too. So we fetched a hymnal and he selected "Jesus, The Very Thought Of Thee".

Jesus, the very thought of Thee with sweetness fills my breast
But greater far Thy face to see, and in thy presence rest

O Hope of every contrite heart, O Joy of all the meek
To those who fall, how kind thou art; how good to those who seek!

But what to those who find? Ah this, no tongue nor pen can show;
The love of Jesus, what it is, none but his loved ones know

Savior our only joy be Thou, as Thou our crown shalt be
Be Thou O Lord our glory now, and through eternity

I was probably too young to appreciate the value of that devotional poetry, especially since it had the word "breast" in it. But later this hymn of Bernard's became one of my favorites.

I have no idea when I first heard Bernard's "O Sacred Head Now Wounded," but I have loved it for as long as I can remember:

O Sacred Head now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down
Now scornfully surrounded, with thorns thine only crown
O Sacred Head, what glory, what bliss till now was thine!
Yet though despised and gory, I joy to call thee mine

What Thou, O Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners' gain
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain
Lo, here I fall my Savior, 'tis I deserve thy place
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, Dearest Friend
For this, Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
Oh make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord let me never, never, outlive my love to Thee

When I was 18 I took a philosophy class with professor C. Stephen Evans, and one morning he said, "Let's open by singing together 'Jesus Thou Joy Of Loving Hearts'." We all looked at each other. Though it was a Christian college and most of us were from Christian backgrounds, none of us 80 students knew the hymn! Poor Dr. Evans looked crestfallen. (What are they teaching kids at church these days?) It was a sunny day, so somebody suggested we sing "Heavenly Sunshine", and we did:

Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine,
Flooding my soul with glory divine
Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine,
Hallelujah! Jesus is mine!

What can you say? Bernard of Clairvaux it isn't.

Later though I found and learned the Clairvaux hymn that Evans wanted us to sing, and have used it in private worship many times since. This is a great hymn to sing at holy communion too:

Jesus Thou joy of loving hearts; Thou fount of life, Thou light of men
From fullest bliss that earth imparts, we turn unfilled to Thee again

Our restless spirits yearn for Thee where'er our changeful lot is cast
Glad that Thy gracious smile we see, blest that our faith can hold Thee fast

Thy truth unchanged hath ever stood, Thou savest those that on Thee call
To them that seek Thee Thou art good; To them that find Thee: all in all

We taste Thee O Thou Living Bread, and long to feast upon Thee still
We drink of Thee, the Fountainhead, and thirst our souls from Thee to fill

O Jesus ever with us stay; make all our moments calm and bright
Chase the dark night of sin away; shed o'er the world Thy holy light

A good way to honor the worthy name of Bernard is to sing his songs. When my Catholic co-worker told me about "Weekend at Bernie's" I have to admit it jolted me a little - maybe along the lines of calling the Abraham Lincoln Memorial "Dear Abby's Place" or Mother Teresa's Calcutta mission "Momma Teri's Wonder Emporium". So I quoted some of Bernard's lyrics to her and decided to make a bold suggestion. "I can make available to you some of Bernard's hymns. What do you think about going to your priest and saying, 'Since our church is named for Bernard of Clairvaux, could we sing some of his hymns sometime?'" Who knows, maybe, just maybe - slight chance! - there will be in church that day some 10-year-old who, decades from now, will remember fondly how he first began to associate the name "Bernard" with noble words that directed heartfelt devotion and worship to the Lord Jesus Christ.

"Who Would Want That Rose?" - A Response To Matt Chandler

I write to call to task the increasingly popular "Jesus wants the rose!" meme of megachurch pastor Matt Chandler.

Chandler tells of the time a preacher urged his young audience to maintain premarital virginity. The preacher tossed out a rose and told people to smell it and touch it and pass it around. Then he preached about purity and warned about things like venereal disease. At the end the preacher asked for his rose back. Having passed through many hands it was now shabby and wilted, the stem was broken, and petals were missing. The preacher held up the miserable flower and asked, "Now who would want a rose like that?"

Chandler, sitting in the audience, says that he could barely contain his outrage. "I remember feeling anger - like real, legitimate, 'I-want-to-hurt-him' anger, and it was all I could do not to scream out, 'JESUS WANTS THE ROSE!' That's the point of the gospel! That JESUS wants the rose!" Chandler goes on to quote Bible verses about Jesus dying to save sinners. If you watch the video you'll see Chandler get emotional and teary as he rages against the preacher for "not even teaching the basics of our faith!"

But there are two problems with Chandler's response. The first is that it fails to understand biblical teaching about what Jesus wants. It substitutes an applause line, "Jesus wants the rose!" for patient reflection on the metaphors and parables that the Bible regularly uses to explain where we stand before God.

Suppose the preacher that Chandler wanted to maim had used a different illustration. Suppose instead of a shabby rose he showed a steaming cup of Kona coffee, a tall glass of iced tea with lemon, and a cup of water at 85 degrees Fahrenheit. The preacher says, "Now who would want to drink this lukewarm water?" Would Chandler still want to scream, "JESUS WANTS THAT LUKEWARM WATER"? The Bible says he doesn't, actually. Useless water like that makes him want to vomit. In Revelation 3:15-16 Jesus says to the church at Laodicea, "I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth."

Or suppose the preacher held up two baskets of fish - one with fresh salmon, swordfish and mahi mahi and the other with smelly, moldy, disease-ridden carp. The preacher says, "Now who would want this basket of rotten fish?" Would Chandler shout, "JESUS WANTS THOSE BAD FISH"? Because again, the Bible says he doesn't. Matthew 13:47-48: "The kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake and caught all kinds of fish. When it was full, the fishermen pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away."

Or suppose the preacher put out two plants, one full of red ripe strawberries and the other a mess of thorny weeds. "Who would want this weed patch?" the preacher asks. "JESUS WANTS THE WEED PATCH!" is the indignant response. But again, no. In Matthew 13:24-30 Jesus explains that weeds will get burned up while the good harvest is taken safely home.

Time would fail me to recount all the stories in the Bible that make the same point. Would Jesus close the door and turn aside people whose behavior indicated that they were not ready for his arrival? Well, yes, as a matter of fact he would - that's exactly what Matthew 25:1-13 teaches. I wonder if on judgment day there will be people shut out of the marriage feast like the five foolish maidens in that story, and they will protest, "But I was told that Jesus WANTED shoddy roses!" No, you heard wrong. Jesus said things like, "Blessed are the pure in heart," not, "Blessed are those who screw around." He said, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness," not, "Blessed are those who indulge themselves and party like frat boys."

The Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthian church saying, "I am jealous for you with a godly jealousy. I promised you to one husband, to Christ, so that I might present you as a pure virgin to him." (2 Corinthians 11:2). Imagine that! "A pure virgin." The image is clearly metaphorical and symbol-laden, but it is not hard to understand. Jesus wants a pure bride, not a filthy whore - a sweet rose, not a befouled one. So, if you are impure - a weed, a bad fish, a lukewarm cup, a nasty rose - REPENT. Call out for God's mercy, and, by his grace through Jesus Christ, stop being evil. Repent while there is still time.

Chandler's misguided rhetoric might be understood as a failure to complete a sentence. It is not accurate to say, "Jesus wants sinners." It is better to say, "Jesus wants sinners to repent." Because if they do not repent, Jesus will not want them. I'm sorry if that's offensive, but the Bible says it too clearly too many times to ignore. Or, we might say, "Jesus wants sinners to be made righteous through living faith in him." The point is, you can't merely say "Jesus wants sinners" (Jesus wants the rose!) without skewing the gospel in a bad and misleading way.

But there is a second problem with Chandler's outburst against the "Who-wants-that-rose?" preacher. Chandler faults him for not getting the gospel right, but by Chandler's own characterization, the man wasn't really talking about the gospel but about keeping yourself worthy of a good spouse. In that context, "Who wants a filthy rose?" is a very appropriate question to ask yourself when you are tempted to embark on a filthy life. I wish more people asked themselves that. Let me tell you a couple stories.

Four years ago I got married to the most wonderful person I have ever known. Lisa hates it when I say that, but it's true. I do not lie.

While we were courting I told her frankly my sexual history. I lost my virginity on my wedding night and remained faithful to my first wife through all our 20 years of marriage. I never kissed, caressed or even held hands with anyone else in my entire life. I remained faithful to my first wife even when she was treating me contemptuously and cheating on me with her lesbian friends, for whom she left me in 2005.

It meant something to Lisa that I had held the line on sexual compromise despite my misery. Some time before Lisa met me, some friends had tried to fix her up with a divorced man who had seemed to be eligible enough. But she knew that this man had cheated on his first wife, and so she did not trust him.

What if I had been a broken, befouled, petal-missing, much-used rose? What if I had hopped in and out of bed with a series of partners? Then I never would have gotten Lisa! She wanted to marry a good man. Had I slept around I would have disqualified myself in her eyes - deservedly so - and no words could ever express the regret I would have felt at missing out on such a treasure.

Lisa has a similar story. In 1986 she married a great man, Russell Krausfeldt, whom I'll get to meet in heaven some day. (He passed away in 2001.) Russ was highly regarded by everyone, especially by the one woman who came to know him better than anyone. Lisa told me that, 28 years ago, it was important for Russ, virginal himself, to marry another virgin. She was that. Had she not been, she would not have won the heart of the good man and faithful provider in whose house I am now privileged to live.

So, you who contemplate a life of fornication, please think about the question posed by the preacher who so annoyed Matt Chandler. It's actually a good question, and ought not be batted away with cheap rhetoric and tearful indignation. Sober reflection on it might - just might - preserve chastity and pave the way for a happiness that could not be otherwise obtained. Consider a rose rendered ugly by willful sin and ask yourself honestly,

Who would want that rose?

What I Love About Simon The Sorcerer

In Acts chapter 8 a Samaritan known as Simon the Sorcerer became a Christian. At least he seemed to be a Christian, because pretty soon there were doubts about the legitimacy of his conversion. He had been a magician who amazed crowds with his feats and claimed to be somebody great (verse 9). But when he heard Philip preach about Jesus, he believed the gospel and was baptized. The man who had made a living astonishing others was himself astonished by the real miracles that Philip did (verses 12-13). Maybe there was an echo of Jannes and Jambres (2 Timothy 3:8), who could do minor wonders with flim-flammery but had to admit to Pharaoh that Moses' power was from God (Exodus 8:18-19).

Then Peter and John arrived in Samaria, and Simon witnessed something else he could not do. When Peter and John laid their hands on new Christians they would receive the Holy Spirit, presumably showing the same signs that the apostles manifested on the day of Pentecost. Maybe Simon thought, "I can pull a coin out of someone's ear, and I can even saw a woman in half - but I have no idea how they do that." So in verses 18 and 19 he offered to pay Peter and John to teach him how to grant the Spirit too.

Peter turned on him brutally. "To hell with you and your money!" he said. "You thought you could buy the gift of God? You have no part or share in this matter, because your heart is not right before God. Repent of this wickedness and beg God to forgive - if possible - the intention of your heart. I can tell that you are full of poison and still bound by sin." (verses 20-23)

It goes without saying that nobody talks like this today. Some years ago I responded to Philip Yancey's lament that the church had lost its power to attract sinners with, "No, what the church has really lost is its power to confront sin." (See "The Godly Duty Of Inducing Guilt" August 15, 2004.) Many churches succeed magnificently in attracting and keeping sinners, because rather than warning them about judgment and threatening them with expulsion they assure them that God loves them unconditionally and accepts them just the way they are. In fact, these days I think that Peter would be the one excluded from our fellowships for being so hateful. A video of his confrontation with Simon would go viral, provoking laughter from unbelievers and hand-wringing from evangelicals overcome with grief that one of our own had revealed himself to be simony-phobic. Some Christians might arrange an apology tour, confessing to simonists that our treatment of them had been shameful and degrading. "Did Peter hurt you, Simon? Did he exclude you and make you feel like you were less of a person? Please forgive us!"

But Peter was a close servant of his Master, and no doubt had learned from Him to deal with corruption in a way that was sharp, immediate, vivid and uncompromising. (Meek and mild Jesus? No - read Matthew 23:27-28; Mark 9:42; Luke 19:45; John 8:44. There's a lot more where that came from.) Peter knew that you could not let a wolf into the sheepfold. All that would do is give you a fat happy wolf surrounded by bloody dead sheep. The wolf must be stopped at the gate and told, "No further. To enter, you must be defanged and declawed, and then you must go about sheepishly no matter how much your wolf nature tempts you to prey upon the flock. Either that, or be gone. Choose."

Thank heaven Simon heard Peter's rebuke with virgin ears unspoiled by "grace narrative" rhetoric that has come to dominate megachurch evangelicalism in recent years. If Simon had drunk deeply from the well of grace narrative preaching and made its rhetorical flourishes his own, he might have responded like this:

"Peter, I'm disappointed with you. I'm not offended or angry - just a little sad. You have forgotten the gospel. I see you are advising me to abandon simony, but remember: the gospel is not good advice; it's good news. The gospel I responded to is not a statement about what I have to do, but a proclamation of what Jesus has already done for me. This is not a rule-based religion, Peter! You're telling me that I have to do something - walk in integrity, reject simony - and then God will forgive me and I'll find favor with him.

"Oh Peter, don't you know that that is the way of all the other religions of the world? All the other religions are spelled 'D-O', but Christianity is spelled 'D-O-N-E'. Christ has done for me what I could not do myself. So I don't have follow a bunch of rules, a weary set of do's and don'ts - like 'Don't try to buy the gift of distributing the Holy Spirit' - or anything at all like that in order for God to be happy with me. God is already happy with me because he sees me through the righteousness of Christ! In fact, all this week I've been following the advice of a preacher I befriended on Countenancescroll who said, 'Every morning you should hear the Father saying to you, "You are my son and I am well-pleased with you."' He's right, of course. If God is pleased with Jesus, then he's got to be pleased with me no matter how sinful I've been this week engaging in simony, etc. It's only logical.

"Peter, you seem to think that just because you're more moral than I am in this area of 'personal integrity' that you're closer to God. But you're not. I've been assured by my pastor that, according to the gospel, moral people are no closer to God than the most immoral person, and immoral people are no farther from God than the most moral person. So you and I are exactly the same distance from God. Who are you, then, to judge me?

"What has happened here, Peter, is that you have made an idol out of 'good moral behavior'. You think this is all about being good. You're like the elder brother in the prodigal son story. You've been busy earning brownie points with God by being a 'good little boy', shunning simony and all that, and now you're upset because a sinner like me gets welcomed into the family of God with unconditional love. Don't you know that God's love is unconditional, Peter? Nothing I can do (renounce simony) could make God love me more; nothing I can do (practice simony) could make God love me less. Why, all the popular preachers today are saying that that is the very heart of the gospel! But not you. Your acceptance of me is clearly performance-based. That is, if I measure up to your standards of performance, if I abide by your list of do's and don'ts, then you'll take me in. But you need to know, Peter, that God's acceptance of me is not based on my performance but on his grace!"

I suppose if Simon had mouthed off in the familiar cadences of a modern grace-worshiper, Peter would have sighed deeply and cursed him dead on the spot.

But Simon did not have in his arsenal the rhetorical weapons that some evangelicals have developed to deflect rebuke and justify ongoing rebellion. Worldly and spiritually clueless as he was, Simon retained a certain simplicity that enabled him to listen, be afraid, and try to make it right. He said to Peter, “Pray for me to the Lord, that nothing of what you have said may come upon me” (Acts 8:24).

That's what I love about Simon the Sorcerer. I don't know how he eventually turned out. The Bible says nothing more about him. I just know that here in Acts 8, when rebuked and threatened with damnation he neither cursed the messenger (John 8:48), nor walked away sad (Matthew 19:22), nor accused his opponent of being theologically incorrect. Instead, he did the right thing - the very best thing he could. He quaked in fear and asked for prayer.

Do that when you are rightly called to account for wicked opposition to the will of God.