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."