Christ, And Christ Alone (July 3, 2005)

One of my favorite verses is St. Paul's statement to the Corinthians: "For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified" (1 Cor. 2:2). Though I have always loved those words, I admit that one of them used to strike me as odd. Why did Paul say that he resolved to know nothing but Christ - didn't he really mean preach or proclaim or discuss nothing but Christ? He seemed to suggest that while with the Corinthians he governed not only his words but even his thoughts to exclude anything that wasn't about Jesus. Why was that?

Maybe I understand a little better now. Thoughts bleed into words, and out of the heart the mouth speaks. That which occupies the mind will come forth in one's message, and what a man mentally acknowledges or mentally ignores will carve the channels through which his words flow.

There were many things that Paul could have worried about when he first visited the pagan city of Corinth and tried to plant a church there. Would he be able to preach eloquently? He would not think about it. He wrote, "When I came to you brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom" (1 Corinthians 2:1). Would his emotional and physical health hold out? He would not bother about that either. As a matter of fact, he wasn't able to hold himself together too well: "I came to you in weakness and fear and with much trembling" (1 Corinthians 2:3).

But neither fear of failure nor desire for success nor any other concern - substantial or trivial - would budge Paul from his main thought, which was that "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief" (1 Timothy 1:15). This was the conviction that he wanted to hold before his mind when all other thoughts conspired to exclude it. It was the thought that had to dictate and circumscribe his message to the Corinthian congregation, a church destined to experience a thousand distractions and a thousand temptations to dishonor the Lord.

Many of you who read this page will know about my own recent sorrows, that I too am "in weakness and fear and with much trembling," that the sun that now rises on my day seems cold and black. I embrace as my own Paul's words in 2 Corinthians 1:8: "We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life."

But I don't despair of eternal life. In my heart I know, if I know nothing else, that Jesus Christ was crucified for sinners, that he rose from the dead, and that - unworthy though I am - there is "laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me at that day - and not to me only, but to all who have loved his appearing" (2 Timothy 4:8).

Pray for me. And, for the sake of the gospel that I preach, pray that like my namesake I will, when clouds gather, know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified.

Should People Have The Power To Shake Your Faith?

(Note: On June 22, 2005, I answered the doorbell and was shocked to be served divorce papers. Neither my wife nor I had ever mentioned the possibility of divorce to the other. Later that day my wife informed me that she was no longer a Christian and that she was going to leave me and divorce me against my will. The next several Pastor's Pages reflect upon the tragedy.)

Should People Have The Power To Shake Your Faith? (June 26, 2005)

I received an email from a friend urging me to say nothing about an apostate former missionary who had embarked on a course of wickedness. In requesting my silence she wrote, "This will be a devastating blow to the faith of many people and will cause them to question themselves and their beliefs."

That may be right. We all have a habit of looking to others and adjusting our behavior in light of their example and our beliefs in light of their doctrine.

I can almost pinpoint the moment when I first began to think about the way that our faith affects other people. I was 15 and meeting with the deacon board of my home church after completing a catechism class with the pastor in preparation for baptism. I was knowledgeable (for my age) about the Bible and earnest in my faith. I had read C. S. Lewis' Mere Christianity and Josh McDowell's Evidence That Demands a Verdict, had memorized scores of Bible verses, had gone to church all my life. I had no trouble expressing my faith to the board.

One of the deacons very graciously said that my testimony had strengthened his own faith. It was a humble and kind thing to say to an immature teenager, but I in my foolishness cringed inwardly and thought, "What in the world does your faith have to do with mine? Isn't your faith strong enough on its own? It should be. What I say or don't say, believe or don't believe, should have nothing to do with your personal trust in the Lord or your acknowledgment of the truth." Of course I did not mentally verbalize my feelings with those words at the time, but that is more or less what I felt.

Since then I have seen many times how our example can indeed "strengthen" or "weaken" the faith of others, and I now acknowledge the legitimate power of that influence. If you see a man whom you regard as wise and kind and right and firm and rational and good, then you are inclined to respect his moral philosophy, and maybe even adopt the doctrines that make him what he is. And if you already share his beliefs, then you delight and feel reassured in them.

But a bad example can have the same salutary effect, though by repulsion rather than attraction. You see the evil and say, "Oh no, no - whatever I do I must not become like that." My mother was the daughter of an alcoholic “rare-do-well” who died of cirrhosis; she responded by resolving never to drink at all. Thank God.

Receiving news of a formerly godly person who has turned away from the Lord and gone the way of the world is like getting hit in the face with a baseball bat. It is painful and stunning and awful and nothing else. But a faith-shaker? Why should it be? Just look at the terrible facts and see how cruel, how mean-spirited, how dishonest, how irrational is the one who "having tasted of the heavenly gift" (Hebrews 6:4 ) now spits it out. That example may shake your faith in people's permanency (a faith you were unwise to hold and should have discarded by now), but it should not hurt your faith in God at all. It should do the opposite. It should pound into your soul the eternal urgency of clinging to Jesus, and terrify you lest you take the smallest step away from him.

Evangelism Isn’t A Niceness Contest (June 19, 2005)

I heard a sermon where the pastor talked about a new member who became a Christian after she met some people from the church who were nice to her. Impressed with their kindness (they even helped her move into a new home), she trusted Christ and was baptized. Their kindness won her over.

Which is a great thing. We can be thankful for sincere believers whose faith is manifested in loving deeds that bring people to Christ. It is a biblical principle that sometimes our good works can have this effect. For example, St. Peter tells women who are married to non-Christians to submit to their husbands so that "they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, when they see the purity and reverence of your lives" (1 Peter 3:1-2).

Even so, we must be careful about leaning on niceness as our main means of evangelism. Other people can be nice too. If niceness determines the playing field for religious conversion, then Mormons, Buddhists, Wiccans and Zoroastrians can compete like champions and may even beat us. If we have sent the message, "Follow our faith because we're so nice," we risk being overtaken by even nicer atheists.

The other day I picked up a Jehovah's Witness publication and noticed how much that cult is now trumpeting niceness. Years ago JW literature emphasized doctrinal distinctions (Jesus is not divine, the Holy Spirit is an impersonal force, Jesus returned to earth invisibly in 1914 to usher in the last generation, etc.) Now they don't say a word about doctrine. Instead they talk about being kind and good and how this behavior leads others into their group. I’m sure it does. But it leaves me wondering, "Does truth even matter to you guys any more? Do you want it to matter to your converts?" I'm happy to debate every JW belief that differs from orthodox Christianity, but their literature suggests that they no longer have the heart for that kind of confrontation.

But confrontations between truth and error are exactly what Christian evangelizers must seek out and press with rigor. A soul's eternal choices must not be allowed to rest on the pleasant but mushy ground of niceness - they must be moved onto the hard, unyielding ground of truth, and the sooner the better. Otherwise it won't be long before those converted through our niceness are asking themselves, "What if it had been a Hindu who had been nice to me - or a Mormon? Would I have adopted their religion instead? Have I been suckered into a lie by a smiling face and a helping hand?"

Niceness is good and very pleasing to God - but it should never be made to bear the weight of a man's faith. Our faith rests on no other ground than truth. Falsehoods remain falsehoods when taught by the sweetest souls on earth, and the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ remains true even when championed by the meanest bastard on the block.

“Affair-Proofing” A Marriage (June 5, 2005)

I visited a church and saw that the pastor is preaching a series of messages on questions submitted by his congregation. On July 17 (Lord willing) he'll preach on "How can I 'affair-proof' my marriage?"

The question seems to assume that a marriage can be "affair-proofed." I deny that it can. If someone were to ask me "Can I affair-proof my marriage?" I would answer no - not any more than you can murder-proof your life. There are two ways you could be directly involved in a murder: (1) you commit it or (2) you are the victim of it. It is very easy to murder-proof your life in the first sense: just don't kill anybody. It is the second part that is tricky. How do you keep other people from killing you? Certainly you can work to make your victimization less likely. Don't tick off violent people, don't loiter by yourself late at night in bad neighborhoods, don't be a cop, don’t be a third world missionary. These measures better your odds, but there is no way to guarantee that someone won't kill you. Jesus, St. Paul, and 10 of the 11 apostles were executed. Of all of them, only St. John really succeeded in "murder-proofing" his life.

It is the same with adulterous affairs. You can certainly control your own behavior: just don't cheat on your spouse. I think we pastors have done our flocks a terrible disservice by suggesting that this is difficult and fraught with hazards and we're wonderful people if we remain faithful. If we do fall, well so did King David and he was forgiven, etc etc. Now wait just a minute. In the Old Testament adulterers were supposed to be stoned to death, and in the New Testament it's even worse! They go to hell. Read 1 Corinthians 6:9-10; Galatians 5:19-21 and Revelation 21:8 concerning the damnation of unrepentant adulterers. It is not heroic to be faithful - it is soul-damning not to be. The truth that we can repent and be forgiven for any sin has been amplified in our day into a shout that drowns out God's commands concerning chastity and faithfulness, and prevents us from hearing that sexual misconduct invites his wrath. Do not commit adultery. Don't. Fear God. If you really want to be immoral, then convert to Buddhism or some permissive religion like that - and take your chances on judgment day that the Bible is wrong and Jesus Christ is not King of kings and Lord of lords.

So half of "affair-proofing" your marriage is under your complete control. It is really a matter of whether or not you love and fear God. But what about the other half? How do you keep your spouse from cheating on you?

Good luck with that. Sorry to be so cynical, but I'm afraid my cynicism is the product of real (though thankfully not personal) experience. I have known several adulterers, and every last one of them was a devious lying self-centered creep, and I am fully convinced that nothing their spouses could have done would have prevented them from wandering. They cheated on wives who were bright, beautiful, kind, godly and submissive; they cheated on husbands who were gentle, godly, loving and responsible. It is a revolting cruelty to say of the victims, Uh oh - I guess they didn't affair-proof their marriages! Please. The victims of adultery have suffered enough. Do not add to their burden.

Here is what you can do. Love God, obey his commands, do what is right concerning your spouse. Husbands, love your wives; wives, submit to your husbands. (Colossians 3:18-19). Maybe your goodness will influence them and you will rejoice; maybe it won't and you will grieve. But don't buy the lie that you can "affair-proof" your marriage. You can only "affair-proof" a person, and the only person you can do that to is yourself.

Getting Facts Before You Judge (May 29, 2005)

A writer to "Dear Abby" complained that her son's friends never reciprocated invitations to their home. Someone later wrote to say that when she was a child she couldn't invite anyone to her house because her father was a violent drunk. She never dared explain why she wouldn't have people over. Friends just thought she was inhospitable.

A friend once told me how he berated a girl for looking away whenever he talked to her. She said, "I have a lazy eye." He felt awful and apologized.

Last night playing basketball at the Y one of our regulars complained to me about the behavior of a guest player. I said, "I think he's slow-witted."

Maybe he wasn't. But I remember one time when I was working as a security guard and an early-arriving kitchen worker fussed irritably about some door being locked and I almost said, "Good grief lady, would you lighten up?" I'm glad I didn't say that, because it soon became apparent that she was borderline retarded. A locked door had thrown her off routine, and she did not know how to cope.

I think of cases like these when it comes to interpreting the difficult words of Jesus in Matthew 7:1: "Do not judge." Do not judge? What can he mean? Open the Bible to almost any page at all and you will find judgment on it. In 1 Corinthians 5 and 6, St. Paul actually condemns the church for not judging its own. If the commandment, "Do not judge" were a simple absolute, then Jesus was the worst of hypocrites, since he was one of the most judgmental individuals you will ever see. (I laugh at people who say that Jesus was tolerant. They have not read his words.) Judgment is necessary. We must have police and courtrooms and judges and prisons; we must have teachers who maintain order and parents who discipline and friends who say, "You must not do that." Eliminating judgment altogether is a recipe for chaos.

But Christians must temper judgment with mercy. We are to extend grace as much as we can, and remember all those times when we were misunderstood (or worse, misunderstood others) because the accusers didn't have all the facts. We must be eager to forgive and happy to discover reasons why the bad behavior wasn't as bad as we thought.

So while it may be that the friend who failed to invite you was just inhospitable, the person who looked over your shoulder was rude, and the ballplayer who fouled you was mean, it might also be that they were less able to control things than you would have been. Assume that - assume that they all had good reasons, and you'll find yourself becoming a gracious person. Of course, if you gauge it wrong, you may just turn out to be a dupe. Even so, it is better to be a dupe than a crank.

The Cowardice Of Shunning Controversy (May 15, 2005)

The pastor of one of America's biggest churches was asked by a journalist why he never addressed a certain highly-charged, biblical issue in the pulpit. He replied that he did not feel comfortable talking about it.

He needs to start feeling comfortable talking about it.

The sin of cowardice plagues our clergy today. The temptation isn't new - even St. Paul lamented his susceptibility to cowardice, which is why he begged the Ephesians to pray that "words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel...Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should" (Ephesians 6:19-20). That is a good prayer to pray for all spiritual leaders. Tell God to make us fearless. The dirty little secret of my vocation is that we ministers want to be liked, and, since our livelihoods partly depend on not ticking off too many people, the pressure to avoid saying anything that might alienate is extreme.

A church elder once told me that his pastor confided in him that he could never address the issue of divorce because so many people in his congregation were divorced. So what? We're sinners too - would he refuse to condemn sin? Would he shun the duty of calling us to repentance because some of us might not like that?

Look at the way John the Baptist stood toe-to-toe with Herod Antipas and said, "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife" (Mark 6:18). Surely he knew such a comment could lose him his public ministry (it did) and his life (it eventually did). Or look at St. Paul's incredible speech to the Athenians. Surrounded by pagan temples he said, "the Lord of heaven and earth does not live in temples built by hands" (Acts 17:24). In the land of idols he affirmed, "We should not think that the divine being is like gold or silver or stone" (Acts 17:24). No wonder that Greeks wanted to kill him (Acts 16:19-24; 19:23-34). And look at his declaration to fellow Jews in Acts 22:21-22, where he dared to say that God had called him to save Gentiles - the enemy. No wonder that Jews wanted to kill him too. And this ice-for-veins apostle wanted more courage? That is like Barry Bonds circa 2001 wanting more steroids!

If the apostles were ministering today, I wonder if we would disdain them as shameless provocateurs. They strike me as the sort who would go to Salt Lake City and call Joseph Smith a fraud; to San Francisco and say, "Those who practice homosexuality will not inherit the kingdom God"; to a Muslim community and say that Mohammed was a pedophile (he had sex with a nine-year-old); to anyplace at all and say, "There is salvation in no one but Jesus Christ" (Acts 4:12). I never see them evading tough issues of doctrine or practice with a dismissive "I don't feel comfortable talking about that." On the other hand, I am beginning to suspect that those traits we now honor as “tactful” and “winsome” might, in the light of apostolic courage, be shown to be nothing more than yellow-bellied, self-protecting cowardice.

May God give courage to all of us who dare to speak for him.

Lighten Up, Ye Who Are Easily Ticked Off (May 8, 2005)

A radio program host was lauding Laura Bush for her generally well-received comedic skewering of her President husband. When a caller complained that the First Lady's comments were disgusting and inappropriate, the host said, "I have a question for you. Are you the kind of person who is easily offended?"

Great question! Too many people are too easily offended. They spend their days looking for something to tick them off. They wait like a starving Venus Fly Trap to snag offenses out of the air. God help you if you are married to one of these - like the saintly friend of mine who gets screamed at all the time by his offense-seeking missile of a wife. Some time ago he was awakened in the morning by one of her verbal tirades and he thought, "Man. I haven't even done anything yet."

Some years ago I was driving in a car with a (thankfully non-blood) relative and for whatever reason I was in a pretty good mood, but she shot that down pretty quick by looking out the window and dutifully recording everything she didn't like. Oh please. Lady. Lighten up.

Of course, I should talk. I'm a minister, and part of my duty before God is to get riled up by sin and channel that righteous anger into rebuke and warning and a call to repentance. Some things should offend us. Abraham's nephew Lot was "distressed by the filthy lives of lawless men" and "tormented in his righteous soul by the lawless deeds he saw and heard" (2 Peter 2:7-8). Not to be offended by such sin is itself an offense.

So where do you draw the line between holy righteous anger and unholy over-sensitivity? I don't know - that is a tough one. I guess one general rule is to try to be as pleasant and agreeable and gracious as you can under the circumstances. Also, keep a mental tally of how many times you say "I can't stand" as opposed to "I just love." Say fewer of the former and more of the latter. And as for perceived insults to your person and character, just forget those. Smile and pretend not to notice.