April 26: 2010: Courage in the Suburbs

The Bible says that cowardly people will be thrown into the fiery lake of burning sulfur (Revelation 21:8), and that gives me strong motivation not to be cowardly. Even if "the fiery lake of burning sulfur" is just a stark symbol for something that really isn't so bad; even if "the cowardly" only means the very very very cowardly; even if my cowardice is covered by the blood of Christ and only unbelieving cowards burn; even if I succeed in cushioning those hellish words with a thousand evangelical comforts, I still can't help seeing from them that God hates cowardice. (He hates other sins too, but today I'm only talking about this one.) God wants me to be brave.

Twelve years ago a friend gave me a T-shirt that said on the back in large letters, ABORTION IS MEAN. (He had others that said ABORTION IS HOMICIDE.) I thanked him, and planned to wear it, but I don't think I ever did so publicly except maybe once or twice. I always chose a different shirt from my dresser whenever I went to play basketball. Why? Because I didn't want to be polarizing. I didn't want to be seen as abrasive or angry. Christians are supposed to be likable, and you don't make friends by shouting moral judgments from your shirt.

But you may save a life that way. You may even save some poor soul from committing mortal sin.

A few days ago a woman told a group of us that her boyfriend got her pregnant when she was 18. Devastated, she went downtown to get an abortion. While there she looked up and saw a sign that read, "Abortion is Murder", and decided she couldn't go through with it. Her son, now 31, has a great story to tell those who toy with the idea of ending a life. Thank God for the brave souls who put up that sign. And, oh Lord, please forgive my cowardly reticence.

At a men's meeting a couple weeks ago the pastor showed movie clips of battle scenes to illustrate the theme of courage. He asked if any of us were veterans, and apparently none of us were. Somehow we all managed to come of age at a time when hardly any man is battle-tested unless he wants to be.

But tests of courage will still come, even to mild-mannered men living in the suburbs. When my father was in his mid 50s, the company he worked for was bought by corrupt men who tried to pressure him to defraud clients. He refused, and was fired. I wonder if, when ordered to be shady, Dad thought, "If I don't do what they say, and I lose my job, how will I provide for my family?" Surely he knew - as I know - that joblessness is a soul-crusher, an emasculator, a scarlet U. Some men would rather face enemy fire (as he did during WW II) than to see their wives have to keep answering the question, "Has Lowell found a job yet?"

But courage of the sort my Dad possessed in spades quietly goes about doing right even when faced with the prospect of pain or loss or shame or deprivation. I doubt he really had to think twice about whether keeping his job was worth compromising his integrity.

In recent weeks, I have had cause to ask myself "What Would Dad Do?" when faced with the old temptation - the need to be liked - that has often seduced me into hiding convictions that must be proclaimed. I'm in a confessional mood, so I will tell you the dirty little secret of the unemployed pastor: he must, he must, be highly thought of. No flock will seek his shepherding if it does not like him, and he knows it. So, among other ploys to win affection, he will soften the hard edges of biblical truth (like Revelation 21:8) - at least until he is safely tenured in a pulpit. God deliver me from such a carnal, God-dishonoring strategy.

I pass along to you the prayer request I submitted to my small group at church, from Ephesians 5:19-20: "Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, 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." Amen.

April 13, 2010: To Christian Friends Who Don't Go To Church

I understand - or I think I do. Over the past 15 years, the Lord has brought into my life a surprising number of kind, thoughtful, devout people who can't stand going to church.

You might think I'd be the last person to sympathize with you, given that I am the Ned Flanders of church attendance. I never miss a Sunday, I get to church early and stay late, I sit near the front. I am on record as saying that even if an unspeakable tragedy befalls me on a Saturday, the next day will find me in church worshiping the Lord. I preach with full conviction Hebrews 10:25: "Forsake not the assembling of yourselves together," and am horrified that A. W. Tozer and A. W. Pink (what is it about the initials A. W.?) both stopped going to church once they stopped preaching.

Yet I sympathize with you? I claim to feel your pain? Yes. Yes, seriously.

I'm not directing this at anyone in particular, so I do not know the specific reasons why you stay away. Maybe you long for sincerity, but at church you find showmanship. Maybe you want to embrace simplicity but are confronted with ostentation. Maybe you love to swim in the deep end, but the worship services of your tradition are a shallow splash indeed.

(One of the defining moments of my life occurred when my Protestant brother Dan, sitting next to me in a church where some giggling inanity was going on up front, leaned over and whispered, "I think I'll convert to Catholicism. At least the Mass has dignity.")

Or maybe you've just had some really bad experience. I've never known (I don't think I've ever known) anyone who was molested by a clergyman, but if I did I'm not sure how I could answer him who says, "I'm never going to church again. That's where I got raped."

I do, however, know of people who were judged, mistreated, or driven out of churches (or the ministry) by spiritual zealots who later renounced the faith or committed excommunicable acts. It is understandable if the victims of false brothers develop "trust issues" that make them wary of jumping back into Christian fellowship.

Or maybe in your case it's the darn music. I myself have practically bruised my knuckles gripping in frustration the pew ahead of me as we sing (I'm not making this up) "Yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord". I bite my lip and wait for it to end, and try to remember that it may be the favorite song - and a God-honoring expression of praise - of some good soul who thinks that Isaac Watts and William Cowper suck.

No? None of these things has anything to do with why you don't go to church? OK, I'll move on to my point.

Christian, you must attend church. You are commanded to.

I'll not try to persuade you that you'll be glad you went, or that it will be good for you in the long run. I can't guarantee that. Nor will I try to persuade you that it would be good for others if you went - your family, your preacher, the church itself. (Even though that is almost certainly the case, and I've tried to make that point elsewhere, that is not what I am saying here.) Today I want to make my appeal on the simple basis of obedience.

What God commands must be obeyed, and you must not insist on some benefit for yourself before you will submit. Do not say in your heart, "I will obey if this helps me, or, if I like it." That is a certain path to corruption. Imagine saying that in defense of disobedience to some other commandment. "Yes, I know the Bible says not to bear false witness against my neighbor - but I don't like giving truthful testimony. Telling the truth doesn't make me happy - in fact, it kind of annoys me - and it certainly isn't my style." Well, no one is asking if you liked speaking truthfully. Of course, it is good to train yourself to love truth, but even if you never love it, speak it anyway! You must never allow your preference for slander and lies to become a warrant for indulging in them.

Here is another way of looking at it. If you are a Christian with a "non-ecclesiological orientation," then consider yourself a brother to all those poor, devout souls burdened with homosexual orientations. To follow Christ, they must deny themselves, say no to physical relationships they would cherish, and commit to lives of celibacy or heterosexual dissatisfaction. Your burden is far less than theirs (unless of course you have that struggle as well.) You just have to go to church on Sundays. It's not that bad. There are tougher crosses to bear.

April 6, 2010: Do You Know Your Worst Sins? (Part 2)

Dr. Helen Roseveare is a living saint, a medical missionary whose selfless devotion to Christ and his kingdom rivals that of Mother Teresa. She is my hero and inspiration, and I often invoke her example when preaching to others or rebuking myself.

Dr. Roseveare was managing a hospital in the Belgian Congo when it was overrun by rebels in the early 1960s. She was not martyred like many of her missionary colleagues ("the lucky ones who got to go home!" she called them); instead she was beaten, raped, psychologically tortured, and made to watch as her African friends were brutally killed. After the carnage she went back to work at the hospital.

When she spoke to a group of us college students in 1982, she told us how grateful she was to God that he had enabled her, as a rape victim, to minister to others who had been similarly violated. Then she revealed that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had to have a double masectomy. But that was just another cause for rejoicing - now she had a whole new group of people to sympathize with and encourage.

Tell me - what sins could so magnificent a saint ever commit? I imagine that someone as selfless, devout, honest, generous, pure, industrious and grateful as Helen Roseveare would never need to preface her daily confessions with words that I feel I should attach to mine: "Oh Lord, how much time do you have?"

But among the riveting stories Roseveare told us was this. One day, quite by accident, she overheard an administrator telling a nurse that he was assigning her to work under Dr. Roseveare. The poor young woman burst into tears. "No, no! Please, I couldn't bear it! I'll do anything, I'll work anywhere - but don't make me work with her!" The administrator sympathized, knowing that Roseveare was an impossible person, but somebody had to do the nasty job of assisting her. Thus Roseveare learned - to her shock, dismay and humiliation - that her colleagues all considered her an emotionally cruel tyrant.

Presumably she took the lesson to heart and repented. At least she was able to tell that embarrassing story on herself, which is a good sign.

Roseveare's confession puts me in mind of many other cases I could cite of people who, conceivably, could examine themselves spiritually all day and all night and never once catch a glimpse of the outrageous character flaw, the howling iniquity, that discerning people spot within five minutes of making their acquaintance. It is one of those things that makes me so suspect of spiritual self-examination. We're bad at it. Even Dr. Roseveare was bad at it, and needed to have somebody else point out what a jerk she was. Others must rebuke the sins we cannot self-diagnose; we're too busy avoiding the sins that pose no danger to us.

Last week I mentioned a radio minister who seemed to obsess over ways to keep himself and others from committing sexual sin. But I frankly doubt that he has ever cheated on his wife or ever would. I wish someone would tell him his real sin, or that, when they tell him, he would listen and repent.

His real problem is that he is a shallow materialist. For example, a while ago he regaled his congregation with the story about how he got tickets to a Miami Dolphins game. He's a Dolphins fanatic. When the Dolphins were scheduled to play a Monday night game at sold-out Lambeau Field in Green Bay, he instructed his son to go online and bid whatever was necessary to get the hard-to-obtain tickets. He spent an admittedly exorbitant sum, got 12 tickets, and then (by God's grace) got another 6 tickets free as a gift from a wealthy patron. The free tickets, he explained, were the ones that God wanted him to have.

Oh no, no, no. I'm reminded of the aristocrat Marquis de Condorcet, who, during the French Revolution, attempted to disguise himself (the story goes) among common folk in order to avoid getting his head chopped off. He was exposed when he ordered an omelet: when asked how many eggs he wanted in it, he said "A dozen." A dozen! What a greedy glutton! Shows what kind of selfish indulgence he's used to.

Would you cut back your own breakfast from two eggs to one so that your guest could eat 12? Or - to put it another way - would you who have never been able to afford a regular-price ticket to a professional football game tithe sacrificially so that your pastor could outbid everybody to land a dozen?

This same pastor bought a house a few years ago for 1.9 million dollars. That is an unnecessary, extravagant, shameful, worldly expenditure which reveals a heart far removed from the spirit of Christ. We worship a Lord who was homeless (Mt. 8:20), who dismissed a rich man unwilling to part with his things (Mt. 19:21), who said it was hard for rich people to get into heaven (Mt. 19:23), who insisted that you could not serve both God and money (Mt. 6:24), and who disparaged the contributions of those who maintained an abundance after all their tithing was done (Mark 12:44). I do not know how such a pastor could preach from any of these texts - or from 1 Timothy 6:6-10 - with a straight face and an unstricken conscience. Nor can I understand the audacity with which he daily begs radio listeners to support his ministry. Sell your home first, Reverend! Let us see if you can make do with an eight-egg omelet before you ask the rest of us to cut back to one.

C. S. Lewis gave us the rule for determining whether we are greedy or biblically generous. If you can still afford "comforts, luxuries, amusements, etc" on par with your peers, then you are not giving enough. Your house should be smaller, your car shabbier, your food humbler, your vacations less extravagant than what anyone would expect them to be. You must be unable to afford them because you have already given so much away. Lewis wrote, "If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot because our charitable expenditure excludes them." Exactly.

As Roseveare was devout but cruel, and this radio minister is sexually pure but financially profligate, so might all of us, at times, manifest sins that are obvious to others but utterly concealed from our own conscience. King David understood this, and wrote, "Who can discern his errors? Forgive my hidden faults." (Psalm 19:12). We must plead mercy for the sins we commit but never lament because we haven't the faintest idea we've done anything wrong. And we must listen with humility to those irritating holier-than-thous who dare to reveal such sins to us.

What is my hidden fault, you ask? I suppose I do not, could not know. More than once I have been accused of being graceless and judgmental - and that may well be true. But even if it is, I feel certain that it renders false not a single word of what I have written above.

March 30, 2010: Do You Know Your Worst Sins? (Part 1)

Do you know what your worst sins are? Quite possibly you don't have a clue.

The other day I heard a radio preacher talk about all the things he did to keep himself from sexual sin. For example, he won't counsel a woman alone, or drive in a car with a woman alone, or even spend a night by himself in a hotel. His computer has moral filters so powerful that they make even his innocent research difficult. He has locked himself out of the premium cable channels on his TV, and only his wife knows the passcode.

Maybe all those measures are necessary for him to preserve his purity. If so, good - he has done the right things to shore up a weak will. But his focused zeal to make it impossible to commit the sins of seduction and lust leaves me with some concerns.

First there is the danger of Phariseeism. The sin that hung most grievously on the conscience of Pharisees - the one sin they wanted to avoid at all cost - was violating the Sabbath. God had simply said "Don't work," but the Pharisees added to that a long list of rules which ensured that they could never even come close to working. For example, they could not take more than 2,000 steps, and if they carried something, it had to be below the waist and not up on their shoulder where heavy items (like bed mats) were normally balanced.

Jesus did not applaud the stern measures they took to avoid Sabbath work. In fact, he found their legalisms insufferable - especially when they made them law for others. Surrounded by such a cloud of ordinances, Pharisees fogged up the whole meaning of sabbath rest and blinded themselves to its purpose. The thick hedges they built around the fourth commandment became walkways to the violation of other commandments, and hard barriers to the grace of God. I believe it is possible for us to do the same with any commandment - even the seventh.

A second concern has to do with the impairment of ministry. The pastor on the radio said that he had lost ministry opportunities because of his policies, and I'm sure that is true. For example, he would not have been able to minister, as Jesus did, to the woman at the well in John chapter 4. Jesus spoke to this Samaritan sinner alone for a while before his disciples arrived. If he had refused to do so, per the dictates of a "never-alone-with-a-woman" legalism, it is unlikely that she would have opened up about her painful life and received his grace.

Recently I and a couple other men, over the course of two months, helped a divorced woman in troubled circumstances prepare her house for sale. Scheduling issues would have made it impossible for two or three of us to be there at the same time. Had we subjected ourselves to this pastor's rule, we never would have cleaned things and moved boxes and made repairs.

Over the years, countless women have been led to Christ by faithful servants of God who - even though they were male - shared the gospel in good faith without seducing (or being seduced by) them. Discretion is always wise, of course, but it must not be turned into a hammer that crushes God-given opportunities to speak grace or perform acts of kindness.

Third, there is the danger of objectifying women. A female student in seminary told us of a time when she went through a spiritual crisis and tried to make an appointment to see her pastor. But he was a never-see-a-woman-alone zealot, and refused to meet her. She was grieved, and felt that she was not being treated as a troubled human being but as a temptress who posed moral danger to men. Thankfully, a less up-tight associate minister did meet with her and helped her through her crisis of faith. (And no, he didn't try to have sex with her.) It is possible to treat women honorably even when you are alone with them. When our policies suggest otherwise, it is understandable if some women think, "Oh come on, what am I to you - a piece of meat? If your wife isn't in the room, are you afraid you're going to jump me?"

There is a simplicity to the Bible's commands about sexual behavior that must not be lost in the thicket of man-made rules designed to safeguard them. The simplicity is this: "Keep the marriage bed undefiled. Be faithful to your spouse. Don't take another man's wife - don't even think about that." Add your own rules to those if you must, but beware the unintended consequences (Phariseeism, loss of ministry opportunity, objectification of women) that they will tend to drag in their wake.

I can think of a fourth danger that stalks hypersensitivity to one kind of sin: I wonder if it plays a role in desensitizing us to the real jaw-dropping evil in our lives. Pharisees who wouldn't swat a fly on the Sabbath were nonetheless capable of falsifying evidence against a good man so that he would be tortured to death. And what was true of the Pharisees can be shockingly true of us. I know it has been true of me. The radio pastor, who, in my mind, is really in no danger of cheating on his wife, has (in my opinion) a much more serious issue about which he feels no guilt at all. More on that next week, Lord willing.

March 23, 2010: Through Seasons Of Lean Spirituality (Part 2)

My wife says that one of the first things she heard me say when she met me just over a year ago was that I felt I needed a sabbatical.

I remember saying that. I was really discouraged. I was pastoring a small church that I couldn't get to grow. I couldn't get anyone in the church to attend Sunday School or Bible study or prayer meeting. I couldn't even get most of them to show up on time for the Sunday morning worship service! The regard for sacred assembly was so low that one member regularly took the start of the sermon as his cue to walk out and get himself a cup of tea. (For further insight into my long-standing frustration, see the March 27, 2005 essay, "Quiet And Respectful In The Worship Service", where I complain about the fact that 20% of my congregation would leave the sanctuary during the service to take a bathroom break.)

But God brings good out of our grief. It was the barrenness there that drove me to attend a mid-week service at another church, and that is where I met the wonderful servant of God who became my wife.

And one blessing led to another. Now that I attend her church, I have been able, by God's grace, to slake spiritual thirst eagerly and often just by meeting with people for prayer. I have found that praying together is part of the culture of Grace Pointe Church. We pray for each other:

1) During Sunday School
2) At Thursday 6 AM Prayer Meeting
3) At bi-weekly small group
4) At Saturday morning men's fellowship
5) At the monthly vespers Communion service

After the sermon you can go forward and pray with somebody while the rest of the congregation sings. I've prayed with people in the narthex after the service - and I see others doing that too. When our pastor was out sick for a month some people arranged a 24-hour prayer service for him and the church. I'd say that on the average I have about four opportunities every week to pray with like-minded believers. It has been a balm to my soul.

And that is what I recommend to anybody who finds himself experiencing and lamenting a season of spiritual dryness. Go find other people to pray with. Do that as often as your busy schedule permits. If you're in a church where nobody prays together - and for some reason you're stuck there - then go to some other church's prayer fellowship. (One of the guys at our 6 AM Thursday prayer meeting attends another church on Sundays.)

Jesus commanded solo praying (Matthew 6:5-6), and he did a lot of that himself, but even he wanted company the night his soul was "overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death" (Matthew 26:38). He asked three disciples to join him as he prayed. They didn't do a very good job of supporting him that night - they fell asleep - but at least they were there. Be there, be there with others when they pray and when they need you to pray for them. You can help each other a lot that way.

March 16, 2010: Through Seasons Of Lean Spirituality (Part 1)

From time to time I hear confessions from sincere Christians who bemoan their spiritual dryness and lack of fervor. They feel they have lost the edge off their Christian zeal, and wonder how to get it back. William Cowper expressed this lament about 250 years ago in his great hymn "Oh For A Closer Walk With God":

Where is the blessedness I knew
When first I sought the Lord?
Where is the soul-refreshing view
Of Jesus and his word?

What peaceful hours I once enjoyed
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill

Before I make a suggestion (next week) to spiritually weary people about how to get their zeal back, let me first warn. I believe there is a danger in chasing after spiritually exhilarating moments that once came to us unbidden. It is important to remember that God has called us to faith and obedience, not excitement and thrill. Jesus said, "If you love me you will keep my commandments," not, "If you love me you will wave your hands in the air and moan." It is easy to deceive ourselves into thinking that we are pleasing God when we really aren't doing much more than feeling wonderful.

Spiritual feelings are extras and by-products. They are hard to control and easy to fake, and if we make them the holy grail of our quest we will find ourselves chasing after wind. What really pleases the Lord is simply believing what is true and doing what is right. Doing good and believing truth may seem mundane, but they make God happy - and divine pleasure must remain our central goal. Christians know that God's happiness matters more than our fulfillment, but because we are corrupt, we will tend to pursue things that energize us whether or not they honor the Lord.

There is a lesson to be learned from the tragic case of a friend I'll call Chuck. Chuck was an ordained minister who served as a missionary in the South Pacific. Back in 1985 he told my wife and me how much he careened from spiritual highs to spiritual lows, and how he wanted to maintain a close fellowship with Christ. In 1998 he regaled us with the story of joining a million men at the Promise Keepers assembly in Washington, and how exhilarating it was to be a part of this amazing work of God in history.

Then a few years ago Chuck rejected the Christian faith and left his wife and took a lover and became active in "New Age" spirituality.

Oh Chuck, Chuck, you didn't need spiritual highs and "mountain-top experiences" with the Lord. You didn't need to be "at the center of what God was doing" in the Promise Keepers movement. You just needed to be faithful to your wife and do your job and go to church on Sundays. How hard was that?

The prospect of a spiritually enriching experience can become for some people the idol that replaces God, the feeling that replaces faith, and the rule that replaces obedience. That is why I feel a little reluctant to propose a "cure" for spiritual dryness. First I want to ask a couple questions and make some blunt points: "Who cares about your spiritual dryness? Are you sure you are not indulging a fallen tendency to look inward when you gauge your spiritual humidity? Christian practice demands that you look outward! Look to Christ and obey him! Look to your neighbor and serve him! Forget about yourself and how spiritual you are. You may be in danger of succumbing to unnecessary guilt if you find yourself spiritually "dry", and damnable pride if you judge yourself spiritually "wet".

Having said that - or having warned that - I can say that in recent months I have been able to delight in some real spiritual refreshment. I thank God for it. Next week I'll pass along some personal testimony on the matter, Lord willing.

March 9, 2010: Psalm 27:14: Wait For The Lord

I received a request to write about what it means to "wait on the Lord," a phrase found often in the Psalms.

I believe that "waiting on the Lord" involves deliberate and disciplined non-action on our part. When is it right to "wait on the Lord" rather than take the initiative ourselves? Whenever all our options for doing something are disobedient or unwise.

Some examples may help.

Abraham and Sarah declined to "wait on the Lord" when he told them they would have a son. Instead they took matters into their own hands by having Abraham impregnate Sarah's maid Hagar - a disastrous experiment in surrogate motherhood (Genesis 16). They should have just waited 14 years for Slowpoke Jehovah to give them Isaac.

Saul refused to wait for the Lord to bring the prophet Samuel to Gilgal to offer sacrifices (1 Samuel 13). Defying the Lord's command, Saul offered the sacrifices himself - only to see Samuel arrive just as he was finishing! (See verse 10.) If Saul had waited one more hour everything would have been fine.

Good King Josiah should have stayed home and played Scrabble when Pharaoh Neco went to fight Nabopolassar of Babylon in 2 Chronicles 35. But Josiah's tendency toward decisive action - so valuable in reforming fallen Judah - led him to err tragically when he meddled in the foreign conflict that God had told him to stay out of. Josiah suffered a fatal arrow wound in that battle. If he had waited for God to sort out the corpses he would not have become one of them.

Speaking of corpses, Jesus waited for his dead friend Lazarus to putrefy a lot before going to resurrect him (John 11). Lazarus' sisters were angry at the delay, but Jesus was, as always, going by his Father's timetable (see John 7:6: "The right time for me has not yet come.")

Jesus' disciple Peter was the kind of person who didn't know how to sit tight and do nothing. He learned the hard way. When Jesus was washing the disciples' feet, all Peter really had to do was lie face down and keep his mouth shut - but he couldn't. He raised such a fuss that Jesus had to stun him by threatening him with excommunication (John 13:8)!

Thankfully Peter learned the lesson of holy passivity so well that 30 years later he was urging other people to act that way. In 1 Peter 3:1-4 he did not tell wives of unbelievers to take the initiative with their husbands, but rather to submit to them and try to evangelize them wordlessly. He counseled a "gentle and quiet spirit" rather than an aggressive and noisy one. It is one of those situations where a person has to back off and wait for the Lord to act.

My favorite example of "waiting on the Lord" is David. He knew that he would be king some day - Samuel had already anointed him - but he religiously refused to hasten that process even when his own life was at stake. The current king, Saul, hated David and tried to kill him more than once. But David would not lift his hand against Saul. Twice he had an easy opportunity to take Saul's life (1 Samuel 24 and 26), and his own men were clamoring for him to do it (24:4 and 26:8), but he wouldn't. The Lord raised up Saul and the Lord would take him out. Though David had fought many battles and killed many foes, he knew that this battle was not his to fight.

Waiting on the Lord is not a matter of total passivity, however. It includes trust and prayer, and it demands the muscular effort of standing our ground when pressured to sin, fret, panic or flee. So, for some concrete examples:

If I don't lie on my resume I won't get this job!
Wait on the Lord to provide you with a job where you don't have to lie.

He insulted me by slapping me on the right cheek - I'm hitting back!
Turn the other cheek, and wait for the Lord to take vengeance on your behalf.

If I don't sleep with my boyfriend he'll leave me!
Wait for the Lord to provide you with an honorable man. Or be single.

My severe depression gives me permission to get drunk/commit suicide/cheat on my wife/bully the weak/apostatize/do something else wrong or stupid.
Wait on the Lord. Say a prayer. You may feel differently as soon as an hour from now. But even if you don't, still, wait on the Lord.