Posts tagged ‘Christianity’
Believing and Acting
Last week in The New York Times, Nicholas Kristof penned a column calling on his readers to rethink Christianity. His thoughts are based on a new book by famed former Evangelical, professional provocateur, and author Brian McLaren. Mr. Kristof summarizes the thrust of Mr. McLaren’s book by quoting a few lines:
“What would it mean for Christians to rediscover their faith not as a problematic system of beliefs but as a just and generous way of life, rooted in contemplation and expressed in compassion?” McLaren asks in “The Great Spiritual Migration.” “Could Christians migrate from defining their faith as a system of beliefs to expressing it as a loving way of life?”[1]
What is being argued for here is a wresting away of Christianity from a prescribed set of beliefs and a reinventing or a recapturing (depending on your perspective) of Christianity as a call to action.
Except, that’s not what’s really being argued for at all.
The reader is clued into this fact by the way in which Mr. McLaren describes traditional Christian beliefs. He asks, “What would it mean for Christians to rediscover their faith not as a problematic system of beliefs?” It turns out that the trouble with traditional Christianity is not that it espouses beliefs, but that it espouses beliefs that are, in Mr. McLaren’s words, “problematic.” Mr. Kristof notes a couple of these “problematic” beliefs in the opening of his column:
Jesus never mentioned gays or abortion but focused on the sick and the poor, yet some Christian leaders have prospered by demonizing gays.
This is only the second sentence of his article, but Christian beliefs concerning human sexuality and abortion have already made an appearance. I should note that it is indisputably a problem – both theologically and humanitarianly – to, as Mr. Kristof puts it, “demonize gays.” But I can’t help but wonder what he means by “demonizing gays.” Does he mean treating a whole group of people as sub-human? Or does he mean calling sexual activity outside of a marriage between a husband and a wife sin? To do the first is to be vicious and wrong. The do the second is to tell the truth.
Ultimately, any attempt to portray Christianity as a series of actions as opposed to a set of beliefs is bound to fail because such an attempt simply does not reflect the way of Jesus. Jesus was committed both to doing and to doctrine. This is why Jesus taught on a whole host of doctrinal issues such as money, worship, the nature and character of Scripture, the end times, His divinity, and yes, even human sexuality.
There is an old phrase, coined by Prosper of Aquitaine in the fifth century, that has long been used to describe much of the worship life of the Church: Lex orandi, lex credendi. “The law of praying is the law of believing.” The idea behind this phrase is that a person learns how and what to believe in worship. In other words, the worship life of the Church is meant to form and inform the faith life of Christians.
But there is a second part to this slogan: Lex credendi, lex vivendi. “The law of believing is the law of living.” That is, what a person believes necessarily forms and informs what a person does. This is why the apostle Paul can exhort a young pastor named Timothy, “Watch your life and doctrine closely” (1 Timothy 4:16). Paul knows that doctrine and doing go hand in hand.
Mr. Kristof and Mr. McLaren know that doctrine and doing are, in reality, inseparable. This is why, even as they issue a call to action while wryly downplaying the value of doctrinal standards, they cannot help but point to and act on their own theological commitments. Their beef, even if it is presented otherwise, is not with the fact that Christians believe, but with what Christians believe. I would simply remind them that, eventually, if we act on what we believe as Christians, people will want to know why we do what we do. And we should have an answer to give to them even as Scripture has given an answer to us. And for that, doctrine still matters.
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[1] Nicholas Kristof, “What Religion Would Jesus Belong To?” The New York Times (9.3.2016).
At God’s Core: Service
Credit: Christ Washing the Feet of the Apostles by Meister des Hausbuches, 1475
A while back, I was having a conversation with a friend who was going through a difficult time. He was struggling relationally, vocationally, and financially. And yet, throughout his struggles, he had managed to keep a remarkably clear head about what was most important. “No matter how bad things may get,” he told me, “I still want to find ways to help and serve others. It helps me take the focus off my own pain and remember just how important other people really are.”
I could not agree more. This is wise insight from a good friend. Serving others is a surprisingly great salve for a troubled soul.
In Philippians 2, the apostle Paul writes about the difficult times Jesus endured – specifically, His most difficult time of dying on a cross. Paul also explains that as Jesus endured these times, He did so with the heart of a servant:
Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though He was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. (Philippians 2:5-7)
The Greek behind this passage is interesting and worth a moment of our reflection. The passage above is taken from the ESV, which notes that though Jesus was God, He became a servant. The ESV translates Jesus’ servanthood concessively. That is, the ESV makes it sound like Jesus’ divinity and His servanthood are somehow logically antithetical to each other, or, at the very least, in tension with each other. Jesus is God and has all the power, perks, and privileges that go along with being God, and even though He could have retained all those power, perks, and privileges when He came to this earth, He conceded them to become a servant.
The actual grammar behind this passage, however, is more ambiguous. The word for “though” in Greek is hyparkon, a participial form of the verb “to be,” which, at the same time it can be translated concessively as the word “though” as the ESV does, it can just as easily and legitimately be translated causally as the word “because”: “Jesus, because He was in the form of God…emptied Himself, by taking the form of a servant.”
If I had to choose between a concessive or a causal translation of hyparkon, I would opt for the causal translation. Here’s why.
To translate hyparkon concessively makes it sound like somehow the nature of God and the nature of a servant are at odds with each other. But what if God is, in His very nature, a servant? What if, as John Ortberg says, “When Jesus came in the form of a servant, He was not disguising who God is, He was revealing who God is”?[1] What if the grandeur of God and the servanthood of Christ don’t conflict with each other, but correspond to each other? What if Jesus not only explaining His mission, but revealing God’s nature when he said, “The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:28)?
Sometimes, we can be tempted to treat service as a bother, a burden, or, worse yet, as something that is beneath us. But being a servant should never conflict with who we are. It should reveal who we are. Jesus was a servant not in spite of who He was as God, but because of who He was as God. God is a servant at heart and so it only makes sense that Jesus would comes as a servant! Likewise, we should be servants not in spite of who we are as business people, managers, or people who can command respect, but because of who we are as God’s children.
This is what my friend understood when he talked to me. He wanted his service not to be incidental to his life, but core in his life. May we want the same.
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[1] John Ortberg, The Life You’ve Always Wanted (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2002), 115.
Is Being Christian the Same as Being Religious?
Last week, as I was going for my morning run, listening to music, a song with this lyric started playing on my Pandora station:
I still hate religion. Why you think I’m a Christian?
I’ve heard this distinction between religion and Christianity used before used by pastors, pew sitters, and Christian artists alike. This Christian artist explained the distinction between religion and Christianity as he continued:
The peace between God’s been broke for my sinning.
Religion is man using his good deeds tryin’ to close the distance.
But we could never reach Him,
Only Jesus came to get His men.
Religion, according to this artist’s definition, is people trying to reach God by their works. Christianity, on the other hand, is God reaching people in Christ.
Now, it is most certainly true that trying to reach God by means of your own works – regardless of your religious affiliation – is a futile effort. And it is true that the hallmark of the Christian faith is that rather than waiting for us to reach up to Him, God has reached down to us in the person and work of Jesus Christ. Still, exegetically, this kind of distinction between religion and Christianity troubles me because religion is not so widely panned in the Bible like it is in this song. If you ask the brother of Jesus what he thinks of religion, he will tell you:
Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. (James 1:27)
If you ask the apostle Paul about the importance of religion, he will explain:
If a widow has children or grandchildren, these should learn first of all to put their religion into practice by caring for their own family and so repaying their parents and grandparents, for this is pleasing to God. (1 Timothy 5:4)
In both instances, religion is cast in a positive light. Religion, at least according to Scripture, is not always bad.
But my concern with the distinction often drawn between religion and Christianity is not only exegetical. It is also missional.
If a non-believer asks a Christian whether or not he is religious and he responds by saying something like, “No, I’m not religious; I’m a Christian,” he is really doing little more than pulling a bait and switch in his witness. Here’s why.
For most people, the word “religion” carries with it particular connotations. People who attend worship services are religious. People who read holy books are religious. People who pray regularly are religious. And Christians do – or at least should be doing – all these things. So for a Christian to claim that he is not religious sounds like little more than a verbal sleight of hand to an unbeliever. To say that you are not religious because you are a Christian probably sounds to someone who is not a Christian like a distinction without much of a difference.
Rather than quibbling over whether or not Christianity is a religion, perhaps it’s time for us to explain to people who are not religious why we are religious in the way that we are. After all, Christianity, even as a religion, is utterly unique. Most other religions are generally concerned with making people better by means of their own efforts. Christianity, by distinction, is concerned with making people righteous by the merits of Christ’s death and resurrection. The difference in Christianity is not found in whether or not it can be classified as a religion. The difference in Christianity is found in what it confesses about God and His Son, Jesus Christ. This is what we ought to be emphasizing.
Allow me to offer one additional thought on the uniqueness of Christianity. Jesus was clear that people would know who His followers were not because of some semantic game that distinguishes Christianity from religion, but because of their love (John 13:35). Unfortunately, whether they are called “religious” or “Christian,” people who claim to follow Jesus are not always known for their love. They’re known for their self-righteousness. They’re known for their hypocrisy. They’re known for their raging fury at our secularized culture. If this is what believers in Christ are known for, it matters little whether people think we are “religious” or “Christian.” People’s opinion of us, no matter which word is used, will remain negative.
In some instances, a person’s opinion of Christianity may be negative simply because he doesn’t like Christ and His teaching. Jesus Himself taught us to expect hatred from others when He said to His disciples, “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated Me first” (John 15:18). Sometimes, we are hated through no fault of our own. But let’s do everything we can to ensure that a person’s opinion of Christianity is negative because of Christ and not because we are acting foolishly, selfishly, arrogantly, and sinfully. Let’s do everything we can to instead be known for our love. Because then, whether people think of us as “religious” or “Christian,” they will ultimately move past us altogether and look to Christ Himself. And that’s the goal. He’s the goal.
The goal is not a game with words. The goal is to point people to the Word.
A Little Lesson in Humility
Humility is hard. If you don’t believe me, just consider whether you became reflexively defensive the last time someone questioned one of your beliefs, decisions, or values. Consider whether you asked yourself, without anxiousness or annoyance, “What can I learn from this person? How can I love them rather than seeking to justify myself before them?” More often than not, we are far quicker to defend ourselves than we are to humble ourselves. We are far quicker to protect our pride than we are to sacrifice our egos.
Jesus was never proud. Instead, “He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to death – even death on a cross (Philippians 2:8)! Indeed, one of my favorite lessons from Jesus in humility comes in when He is invited to a party at the home of a prominent Pharisee. When Jesus notices that, at dinner, the party guests are all clamoring to grab the best seats at the table, He says:
When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, “Give this person your seat.” Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, “Friend, move up to a better place.” Then you will be honored in the presence of all the other guests. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. (Luke 14:8-11)
Jesus uses a dinner table to illustrate just how deeply pride has sunk its roots into the human heart. Even at the dinner table, we’ll position ourselves closest to those we perceive as most important so others will perceive us as more important.
Author Michelle Fields tells an interesting story about the presidency of Thomas Jefferson. In Great Britain, the country from which President Jefferson emigrated, formal dinners were always hosted around rectangular tables. But as president, Jefferson always insisted on hosting his dinners around round tables. Fields explains his logic:
He didn’t like the rectangular tables used at royal functions, which would seat guests according to their rank and status. Jefferson figured that, at a round table, no one could sit at the head and no one could mistake him for a king. He believed that “when brought together in society, all are perfectly equal, whether foreign or domestic, titled or untitled, in or out of office.”[1]
President Jefferson did not want people clamoring for places of pride around the dinner table. So he rounded his tables.
Part of the reason pride is so cunning is that it’s not just those who clamor for a high seat at the table who can fall prey to pride, it’s even those who willingly take a low seat at the table in an act of self-debasement who can struggle with pride. Why? Because both of an arrogant view of one’s self that takes a high seat and a pitiable view of one’s self that takes a low seat are focused on the self. They are both fundamentally narcissistic, which is the very definition of what it means to be proud.
Humility is focused not on the self, but on God and on others. As C.S. Lewis explains it, “Humility…turns [a] man’s attention away from self to [God], and to the man’s neighbours.”[2] Thus, humility is interested neither in a position of honor at a table nor in a position of debasement at a table because it is too concerned with everyone else around the table. Humility doesn’t care where it sits as long as it can serve others.
What rectangle tables do you have in your life that need to be rounded? Where do you clamor for a seat, whether that seat be high or low, at your job, in your church, in your home, or in your self-perception? Rather than worrying about which seat should be your seat, humility invites you to look at people in other seats – and love them.
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[1] Michelle Fields, “A Country Steeped in Humility,” National Review (6.21.2016).
[2] C.S. Lewis, The Complete C.S. Lewis Signature Classics (New York: Harper One, 2007), 224.
More on Baton Rouge, Saint Paul, and Dallas
Credit: Dallas Morning News
Imagine you’re a police officer in Baton Rouge. You’ve been called to a convenience store where a 37-year-old man named Alton Sterling has been reported to have recently threatened another man with a gun. You approach Mr. Sterling and pin him to the ground when someone shouts, “He’s got a gun! Gun!” Fear takes over. Shots are fired. And Alton Sterling lies dead.
Now imagine you’re a police officer in Saint Paul, Minnesota. You pull over a vehicle that has a broken taillight. The man inside, Philando Castile, dutifully explains that he has a concealed carry permit and has a firearm in the vehicle. When Mr. Castile reaches for his license and registration, however, you think he’s reaching for his gun. Fear takes over. Four shots are fired. And Mr. Castile dies in front of his girlfriend and four-year-old daughter.
Finally, imagine you’re a 25-year-old black man named Micah Xavier Johnson who has watched other black men be shot and killed in altercations with the police under suspicious circumstances time and time again. You see protest after protest against these shootings by Black Lives Matter, but in your mind, these protests do not equate to real action. After the tragedies in Baton Rouge and St. Paul unfold, you seize on these moments to exact revenge. At a protest in Dallas, you, with anger coursing through your veins, aim your arsenal of firearms at twelve officers, killing five of them, only to finally be taken down yourself by law enforcement officials.
Are you still with me?
Now, let’s do a little math.
Fear + Anger = Eight People Dead
At this point, I need to include some caveats.
First, don’t misunderstand the intent of my thought experiment. I am not trying to exonerate bad behavior by asking us to imagine ourselves in each of these men’s shoes – by asking us to empathize with them. Empathy never tries to excuse sin, but it does try to understand people because, when we understand people better, we can understand what leads to a week like the one we just experienced better and, hopefully, take steps to prevent another week like this one from happening again – ever.
Second, the facts in all these cases are still unfolding. When 49 people were shot and killed by a terrorist at an Orlando nightclub, I offered an encouragement on this blog for people to patiently wait for the facts rather than jumping to conclusions about the shooter’s motives. The same caution applies here. It could be that one or both of these officers in Baton Rouge were animated by naked racial animus and shot and killed one or both of these men in cold blood. If this were the case, the equation above would still hold, albeit on the anger side rather than on the fear side. It could also be that, as more facts surface, one or both of these officers were not animated by fear, but by a legitimate concern for self-defense. Turning to Dallas, it could be that Mr. Johnson was clinically insane and not in his right mind when he carried out these horrific attacks. If this were the case, what he did still could not be excused, and his anger and hatred would still loom large, but it might be understood a little differently. Carefully sorting through the facts – and being patient enough to do so – is incredibly important in tragedies like these.
Third, I am not a law enforcement official. I know some law enforcement officials, and I have nothing but the utmost respect and love for them. Honestly, if I had to walk in their shoes, I’m not sure that the altercations with Mr. Sterling and Mr. Castile would have gone down any differently. I can imagine myself becoming very frightened very quickly. The fact that so many law enforcement officials keep their cool when tensions are high is a testimony to the character and competence of so many of these men and women.
Fourth, I am not a black man. I have heard enough stories of incipient and systemic racism against black men, however, that my heart breaks. I would not want to live under a cloud of such constant suspicion. I would not want to have to teach my son the lessons of what little slights, sideways glances, and clinched purses could mean. If I had to endure that day after day, I would be angry too. And if someone was to needlessly take the life of someone that I loved, I can’t say I wouldn’t be tempted to exact an eye for an eye. The fact that so many African-Americans keep their protests peaceful and focused on change rather than turning them into opportunities for revenge is a testimony to the character and compassion of so many of these men and women.
What has happened this week, then, is not an indictment of the masses, but the fruits of a few.
But…
Even though what happened this week was not by our hands, this is not to say it couldn’t have been by our hands. Remember the equation?
Fear + Anger = Eight People Dead
Have you let fear take over your heart any time this week? How about anger? Is anything from the way you manage money to the way you treat your family to the friends you avoid to the grudges you hold to the politics you have that is driven by fear or anger? The results of your fear and anger may not be eight dead, but are the results in any way good? Let’s adjust the equation a little bit.
Fear + Anger = Plenty That Is Not Good
Is this true of you?
Fear and anger are part of the human condition and are devastatingly etched into the annals of human history. One needs to look no further than the night before Jesus’ death. When Judas betrays Jesus into the hands of the religious leaders, Peter goes from being so angry at what is about to beset his Master that he cuts off the ear of a man in the mob that has come to arrest Jesus to being so fearful at what is transpiring with his Master that, just hours later, when a servant girl asks him if he knows Jesus, he denies his Savior and friend. Fear and anger coalesce into one necrotic night.
The truth is this: there’s plenty of fear and anger to go around – among the masses and, if we’re brutally honest, in our hearts. The equation holds true for us all.
So, on the heels of a terribly tragic week, let me conclude with two gentle reminders:
“Do not be afraid” (Luke 12:32).
And…
“Refrain from anger and turn from wrath” (Psalm 37:8).
Think on these things.
A Week of Tragedy: Baton Rouge, Saint Paul, and Dallas
This has been a terribly tragic week. Today, three cities are in mourning: Baton Rouge, Saint Paul, and now, overnight, Dallas.
In Baton Rouge, 37-year-old Alton Sterling was shot to death while being pinned to the ground by law enforcement officials. In Saint Paul, Philando Castile was shot and killed by an officer after being pulled over for a broken taillight. In both of these cases, there are questions over whether or not police officers used excessive force. Then, last night in Dallas, when protesters gathered to decry what happened in Baton Rouge and Saint Paul, five officers were shot and killed, with an additional seven officers shot and wounded, by a sniper who was enraged by the shootings in Baton Rouge and Saint Paul. It is the largest single loss of first responder lives since September 11, 2001.
As events continue to unfold, here are some things to keep in mind.
Grieve with those who grieve.
To all of the families who have lost loved ones this week in these tragedies, we should offer our condolences. We should hold them up in prayer. Losing loved ones are occasions for tears. Empathy should be the hallmark of every Christian because it so closely reflects the incarnation. In Christ, God came into our pain. He experienced our pain. He walked through our pain. This is why the preacher of Hebrews can say that, in Christ, “we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize” (Hebrews 4:15). For us to withhold empathy denies us the opportunity to show the world who we are by our love. “Mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15).
Receive Christ’s peace.
When a week spirals into tragedy like this one has, we can be tempted to respond either with fear or with anger, or with both. I’ll have more on these responses Monday on my blog. For right now, suffice it to say that these responses are not helpful. When the world is troubling, rather than responding with fear and anger, it is better to receive the peace that only Christ can give.
The night before Jesus goes to His death on a cross, He knows His disciples will respond both with anger (cf. John 18:10) and with fear (cf. John 18:15-18, 25-26). But Jesus wants His disciples to receive His peace. So He says to them, “Peace I leave with you; My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27). God’s peace is stronger than human tragedy.
Trust that tragedy does not have the last word.
It was Dr. Martin Luther King, echoing the words of the nineteenth century abolitionist Theodore Parker, who said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” How a moral arc can bend toward things like justice and righteousness and goodness can be tough to see after a week like this. Yet, what is good has not been lost.
Jesus tells the story of a widow who comes to a judge, begging him to grant her justice against someone who has wronged her. The judge, who apparently is not at all concerned with justice, continually diminishes and dismisses her concerns until he finally decides to grant her what she wants, simply because she won’t leave him alone. This widow’s quest for what is good overcomes this judge’s careless embrace of what is wrong. Jesus concludes His story by pointing to God: “Will not God bring about justice for His chosen ones, who cry out to Him day and night? Will He keep putting them off? I tell you, He will see that they get justice, and quickly” (Luke 18:7-8).
Jesus promises that in a world where plenty is wrong, God is a just judge who will eventually make things right. God will not put us off in our tears, in our hurt, and in our devastation. And although God’s conception of a justice that comes “quickly” may not fit our conception of a justice that comes “quickly,” we can rest assured that God’s final defeat of all that is wrong will have its say on the Last Day. Not only that, God’s defeat of all that is wrong has already had its say in Christ, who triumphed over sin and death by the cross (cf. Colossians 2:15). In a week that has been full of tragedy, this is something in which we can take deep comfort and by which we can hold out great hope.
Terrible tragedy will not have the final say. Jesus will.
Texas, Abortion, and the Terrible Triumph of the Human Will
Credit: Associated Press
Along with the headline, there was an infographic with this caption: “The Supreme Court Drifts to the Left.” Sadly, this is the way the abortion debate is often now cast: conservative versus liberal, right versus left. But there is far more at stake in this case than just political or ideological points. What is at stake in this case is human lives.
Yes, the lives of the babies lost to abortion are at stake. But so are the lives of the women who suffer through the loss of a child to abortion. Abortion can change profoundly the lives of the women who endure it – and not necessarily for the better. Indeed, some studies have shown that women can suffer under a crushing weight of hidden hurt and regret after obtaining an abortion.
Yet, regardless of its mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual tolls, many in our society continue to fight for the widest possible access to abortion and, as the Supreme Court ruling symptomizes, raising any concerns about the way the abortion industry operates is regularly met with little more than scorn and skepticism. The right to abortion, in this view, is sovereign.
The problem, however, with making the right to abortion sovereign is that it makes physical reality subservient to the human will. The physical reality of life in utero becomes becomes dependent on a person’s choice. To borrow a quip from 2004 presidential candidate Wesley Clark: it means that “life begins with the mother’s decision.”
Except that it doesn’t. Life begins in spite of a person’s choice. But life, tragically, can be ended by a person’s choice. To try to make the physical reality of life subservient to the human will is to deny that physical reality really matters at all. But the denial of physical reality in light of human decision seems to be en vogue – not only with babies in wombs, but with people in their lives.
Several weeks ago on this blog, I wrote about the connection between transgenderism and Platonism. Just like Platonism sees that which is non-corporeal as more important and, in some sense, more real than the physical, transgenderism gives preference to a non-corporeal inner identification over a person’s physical biological sex. Sherif Girgis made a similar observation about the relationship of the physical to the internal in an article for First Things:
The body doesn’t matter…Since I am not my body, I might have been born in the wrong one. Because the real me is internal, my sexual identity is just what I sense it to be. The same goes for other valuable aspects of my identity. My essence is what I say and feel that it is…
On the old view, you could know important things about me unmediated, by knowing something about my body or our shared nature. And our interdependence as persons was as inescapable as our physical incompleteness and need: as male and female, infants and infirm. But if the real me lies within, only I know what I am. You have to take my word for it; I can learn nothing about myself from our communion. And if I emerge only when autonomy does – if I come into the world already thinking and feeling and choosing – it’s easy to overlook our interdependence. I feel free to strike out on my own, and to satisfy my desires less encumbered by others’ needs.[1]
Girgis’ final line is key. If we are fundamentally defined by our internal wills rather than by our physical bodies, our wills must be held as sovereign and defining. Anything and anyone that would encroach on our wills – even a baby growing inside of us – must be put it in its place.
In this way, everything from same-sex marriage to transgenderism to abortion is of one piece. It privileges the human will over everything else. I can choose who I want to marry without any regard for a created complementarianism. I can choose my gender quite apart from what are, in most cases, very clear biological markers. And I can choose to keep a baby inside of me or to rid myself of it.
I understand and am sensitive to the fact that, in each of these cases, there are strong stirrings that can lead to difficult decisions. The stirring of affection for someone of the same-sex can lead to a same-sex marriage. The stirring toward the lifestyles of the opposite gender can lead a person to live as transgender. And the stirring of fear over what it takes to raise a child can lead to an abortion. But even when these stirrings are strong, I think it is worth it to at least ask the question of whether or not it is wise to make human stirrings so defining that they can eclipse and even try to deny actual physical states of being.
According to the Supreme Court, the stirring of a person’s choice in pregnancy is defining. And if anything – even a raising of medical standards for abortion clinics in Texas – impedes that choice, choice must have its way. So it will. And with deadly results.
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[1] Sherif Girgis, “Obergefell and the New Gnosticism,” First Things (6.28.2016).
Breaking Down Brexit
It was a shocker of an outcome. British voters backed Brexit.
In a move that sent markets stumbling and the pound tumbling, Britons voted to leave the European Union 52% to 48%. The fallout from the exit was nearly immediate as David Cameron stepped down as Britain’s Prime Minister, saying:
I was absolutely clear about my belief that Britain is stronger, safer and better off inside the EU. I made clear the referendum was about this, and this alone, not the future of any single politician, including myself. But the British people made a different decision to take a different path. As such I think the country requires fresh leadership to take it in this direction.[1]
In support of Brexit was Boris Johnson, a member of Parliament and the former mayor of London, who explained:
In the end this question is about the people…it is about the very principles of our democracy…I think the electorate have searched in their hearts and answered as honestly as they can. They have decided that it is time to vote to take back control from an EU that has become too remote, too opaque and not accountable enough to the people it is meant to serve.[2]
Back here in the United States, the Obama administration had announced its support for Great Britain remaining in the EU and expressed disappointment at the vote while still pledging its ongoing support for the UK.
As with many things of this nature, there were probably good reasons for Great Britain to stay in the EU and good reasons for it to leave. On the one hand, fraternal cooperation between nations who support each other in their humanity and not just in their nationality is good. On the other hand, a governing body as large and as political as the EU is simply too inherently prone to corruption to exercise its power without problems and concerns.
Regardless of how you may personally feel about the Brexit vote, it is important that we, as Christians, pray for the British people. This much is certain: this vote has launched that country into turmoil. The price of gold has surged as jittery investors clamor to find safe financial havens. British millennials are also broadly upset with the vote, with one millennial tweeting, “A generation given everything…have voted to strip my generation’s future.”[3] According to one poll, 64% of Britons ages 25 to 29 wanted to stay in the EU. It was the older Britons who carried Brexit to victory. But even in the wake of victory, the United Kingdom is still divided.
Ultimately, Brexit can serve as a reminder that no human coalition or government, no matter how seemingly strong, is impenetrable or eternal. Every earthly kingdom eventually fails and falls. This is why our hope can never be in nations, international unions, or leaders. Our hope must finally be in the Lord.
After the Egyptians free the Israelites from the shackles of their slavery to them, and after God miraculously parts the Red Sea so the Israelites can escape the Egyptian army when the Egyptian Pharaoh changes his mind about releasing the Israelites, and after God causes the wheels of the Egyptian chariots to fall off as they pursue the Israelites into the parted Red Sea (cf. Exodus 14:25), and after God swallows up the Egyptians in the Red Sea by causing its waters to fall back on them, Exodus 14:31 says, “When the Israelites saw the mighty hand of the LORD displayed against the Egyptians, the people feared the LORD and put their trust in Him.”
Eventually, the wheels of every kingdom fall off. Brexit is just the latest example. Thus, if we trust only in human kingdoms and powers, we will be left with nothing but fear when these kingdoms collapse. This is why we must put our trust in the Lord. For when we trust in Him, we can move through even a time of international uncertainty knowing that one kingdom – God’s Kingdom – can never be shaken. In the words of Martin Luther:
The Word above all earthly powers,
No thanks to them, abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours
Through Him who with us sideth:
Let goods and kindred go,
This mortal life also;
The body they may kill:
God’s truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever.
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[1] Heather Stewart, Rowena Mason, and Rajeev Syal, “David Cameron resigns after UK votes to leave European Union,” The Guardian (6.24.2016).
[2] Kate McCann and Laura Hughes, “EU referendum live: Boris Johnson hails ‘glorious opportunity’ of Brexit as David Cameron resigns,” The Telegraph (6.24.2016).
[3] Ivana Kottasova, “British Millennials: You’ve stolen our future,” CNN Money (6.24.20216).
Processing the Terror in Orlando
Credit: The Guardian
Terror doesn’t sleep.
This is one of the lessons we’re learning from what has become the worst mass shooting in U.S. history carried out early this morning around 2 o’clock at a nightclub in Orlando.
The shooter’s name was Omar Mateen. He had drawn the attention of the FBI in the past, and before he carried out his terror attack, he called 911 to pledge his allegiance to ISIS. By the time his AR-15-style rifle and his handgun were silenced, 50 people were dead and over 50 were injured. Mr. Mateen himself was killed by law enforcement officials while he was holed up in one of the club’s bathrooms with hostages.
News reports have been filled with people expressing shock, sadness, and outrage. All of these responses are certainly appropriate, but what especially grieves me is that they are also entirely predictable. We know how people will respond to a terror attack emotionally precisely because we have had so much practice responding to terror attacks emotionally. Paris. San Bernardino. Brussels. But this tragedy – like the ones that have come before it – is too important not to respond. When human life is senselessly and violently taken, we should stop and we should reflect and we should respond. Here are a few things, then, to keep in mind.
Do not be afraid.
This is not the first time I have written this in the face of a terror attack. But this is also something that bears repeating. After all, whenever an attack like this one unfolds, our natural and almost reflexive reaction is to ask, “Am I next? Am I safe?” But such questions are unhelpful because such questions are utterly unanswerable. There is no way for us to control the future. This is why the apostle Paul commends us to be people of prayer rather than people of worry and fear: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (Philippians 4:6). We may not be able to control the future, but we do know someone who holds the future. We are called to present our fear to Him and place our trust in Him.
I should point out that there is a difference between being afraid and being vigilant. Fear happens when a person mulls over all sorts of possible, though unverifiable, bad scenarios for the future. Vigilance is when a person looks for clues of trouble in the present and reports them to the appropriate authorities for investigation. Being vigilant is helpful. Being afraid is needless.
Remember, there is a reason attacks like the one in Orlando are called acts of terror. They are attacks specifically designed to instill fear. Don’t let these attacks have their way in your heart. Christ is stronger than terror.
Be careful connecting dots.
One of the major focal points of this story has been the clientele to whom this night club in Orlando catered. The club at which these attacks were carried out is called the Pulse, which is well-known as a hotspot for those in the LGBT community. Shortly after the attacks, GLAAD, a gay rights advocacy group, tweeted, “Our hearts break for the victims and families of this horrific act of violence. We stand in solidarity with the LGBTQ community in #Orlando.” The call to stand in a solidarity of care, concern, and compassion is well-taken.
At the same time, many in the media and beyond are already wondering and conjecturing out loud concerning whether or not the fact that this is an LGBT club in any way served as a motive for the shooter. In an article for the Huffington Post, Michelangelo Signorile offers a brief history of attacks against LGBT spaces, strongly intimating that the Orlando attack was probably more of the same.
Whether or not the patronage of this nightclub is somehow connected to the motive of the shooter is certainly a question that needs to be asked and answered. At this point, however, overly confident pronouncements can do more harm than good. A good rule of thumb is this: investigation precedes correlation. In other words, let’s not jump to conclusions.
As a Christian, this is something that I must regularly remember. It can be far too tempting to search for some pious, consoling, and grandiose reason why a God who Scripture reveals to be a strong and sure defense would allow a horrific tragedy like this to happen. But correlating current events to overly specific divine purposes is a theological fool’s errand. Theologically, I must say only what I can know for sure according to Scripture: (1) that such a shooting is an expression of deep sinfulness and depravity (Romans 3:15); (2) that events of death grieve the heart of God because death is not a part of His design (1 Corinthians 15:20-22); and (3) that God is with and cares for those who have lost loved ones (Psalm 23:4).
Connecting disparate facts now will only leave you looking a fool later. So be careful.
Remember Christianity’s unique message.
As I have said in the past, I am sympathetic to those who claim that ISIS does not represent Islamic theology, at least in any responsible sense. Just as I do not see the theological stances of, let’s say, the Westboro Baptist Church to be authentically Christian in any regular sense of the term, I can understand why many Muslim theologians would decry and deny that ISIS represents their faith. But even if ISIS does not represent the Islamic faith in any theologically and academically rigorous way, it does represent some sort of faith – even if the faith it represents calls on its adherents to destroy those it hates. And this is where Christianity stands apart. The beauty of the Christian faith is that it centers around a man who loved those who hated Him and sought to destroy Him. Moreover, whereas ISIS calls on its fighters to lay down their lives in order to bring death to infidels, Christianity has a Savior who laid down His life in order to bring life to sinners. In other words, Christianity serves as the perfect foil to all the terror ISIS is dishing out. Christianity loves when ISIS hates. Christianity promises life when ISIS seeks death. This is why, on a day that is full of plenty of reasons to hate and to grieve, I once again to turn to Christ who gives me reasons to love and to hope. And I ask you to join me in doing the same.
May Christ reveal His love and His life to Orlando.
Same-Sex Marriage, Transgenderism, and Oppression
It was the fourth-century church father Gregory of Nazianzus who wrote of God:
The three most ancient conceptions concerning God are Anarchia, Polyarchia, and Monarchia … Anarchy is a thing without order; and Polyarchy is like civil war, and thus anarchical, and thus disorderly. For both of these tend toward the same thing, namely disorder; and this to dissolution, for disorder is the first step to dissolution. But Monarchy is that which we hold in honor.[1]
Gregory is speaking here of the Trinity and is making the point that the persons of the Godhead are not independent of each other and unconcerned with each other in a kind of divine anarchy, nor are they vying for power against each other as in a polyarchy. Rather, God is a monarchy – at perfect peace in Himself as three persons and one God. This is why the apostle Paul can describe the nature of God as “not a God of disorder but of peace” (1 Corinthians 14:33).
Order is essential to the nature and character of God. And the order of God shows up in that which He creates. What God creates during the first three days of creation, for instance, are filled in a very orderly fashion by what He creates in the second three days of creation (cf. Genesis 1:1-26). When God makes human beings, he orders them as “male and female” (Genesis 1:27). When God assigns humans work, He creates an order that places people as the crown and the stewards of what He has made (cf. Genesis 1:28-30). And when God creates human relations, He outlines an order by which “a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24).
Recently, the transgender movement has been grabbing headline after headline. A simple search on The New York Times website revealed that, in one 24-hour period, the paper ran 19 stories dealing with transgender concerns. This comes on the heels of a pitched battle over same-sex marriage last year. In both cases, these battles have been framed in terms of oppression. To deprive gay couples of the ability to legally marry was oppressive, same-sex marriage advocates argued. To ask questions about whether or not a person’s internal gender identification can be unflinchingly determinative of someone’s being as a male or female has also been called oppressive and discriminatory. In light of such oppression, the argument has gone, what is needed is freedom – freedom to marry whoever you like and freedom to be the gender you perceive yourself as, even if your biological sex does not match your internal orientation.
Because freedom is such an integral part of the American ethos, to argue against freedom – whether that be the freedom to marry or the freedom to transition from a male to a female or a female to a male – seems almost sacrilegious. But what if our starting category for these debates over same-sex marriage and transgenderism needs shifting? What if we need to begin by asking questions not about oppression, but about order? What if the orderliness of God and of His creation really does have a bearing on the way we order our lives – not in an oppressive way, but in a graciously protective way?
If not being able to marry who you want and live as the gender you internally identify as is oppressive, then it makes sense to push toward freedom. Freedom is, after all, generally a good thing. But if these strictures are not about oppression, but about order, then to push against them is not to strive for freedom, but to create chaos. And chaos can be disastrous.
Scripture is clear that true freedom must be guided by Godly order. In the words of the apostle Paul, “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom” (2 Corinthians 3:17). It is the orderly Spirit who must be present to give and to guide good freedom. Freedom without such order degenerates into chaos. And, as any number of Middle Eastern countries can tell you, chaos makes a society ripe for an oppressor. To deny a Godly order is to invite an oppressive orderer.
In our current discussions over transgenderism and same-sex marriage, it is perhaps worth it to ask ourselves as Christians: for what are we striving? Are we striving to oppress, marginalize, and stigmatize the LGBT community, which has, sadly, admittedly happened in the past, or are we striving to call all people to a helpful order for their lives? The first goal is clearly self-righteous and sinful. But the second is Godly and needed – even if many outside the Church don’t see it that way.
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[1] Gregory of Naziansus, Select Orations 29:2
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