What Does God Say about Violence against Women?

Some people blame Christianity for promoting male chauvinism and, by extension, violence against women. And many of us have known heavy-handed men who claim religion. But the Bible makes it clear that God made both men and women as his image bearers, persons who would resemble him, relate with him and represent him in creation. While God assigned different roles, the dignity and value of man and woman was equal, grounded not primarily in what they did, but in who they were as reflections of their Creator.

Unfortunately, mankind, both man and woman, chose to doubt God’s goodness and rebel against his rule. In the fallout of this first sin, God promised our first parents, Adam and Eve, that their rebellion would wreak havoc not only on their relationship with him, but also with each other. Women would resent the leadership and protection of men and seek to manipulate them instead. In laziness and fear, men would refuse to step up in their role to lead, provide, and protect the women God placed in their lives. Instead of leading sensitively, men would abuse their strength and treat women harshly.

When we reject God’s instruction, each person is left creating their own idea of “good” and “evil”. For some, this leads to attempts at virtue. For others, this leads to indulgence and abuse. It is a sickening reality that some men find their pleasure in hurting and taking advantage of women. Cut off from God, morality has become a question of what each person can get away with.

The Bible, however, rejects the idea that morality is subjective. Violence against women is wrong – not because I think so or because most Americans say so, but because God says so. A woman should never be treated like an object – used, abused, neglected. Regardless of background or personal history, every woman is created in God’s image with incredible dignity – and she should be treated with care and respect.

Regardless of background or personal history, every woman is created in God’s image with incredible dignity.

If you have been a victim of abuse, you may feel like your dignity, innocence, and security have been stolen from you. No man, however, can take what God gave you. Your value does not hang on the opinion or treatment of men, but on who God made you to be.

Sadly, we ourselves have not lived up to who God made us to be. Men and women alike, we have all rebelled against God’s rule. We have not reflected him well. God wanted us to enjoy him and delight in his gifts, but we have ignored him and abused his gifts, hoping to find pleasure. We binge on food. We get wasted on alcohol and drugs. We do not reserve sexual intimacy for marriage. We escape through media, work, and sleep. We worship ourselves, other people, money, and other gods. We rebel in different ways, but we all rebel.

Humankind’s rebellion climaxed in our treatment of Jesus, when the Son of God became a man and lived on our earth. We ignored him. We ridiculed him. Ultimately, we rigged a trial, condemned, and brutally killed him. We abused God.

What we didn’t know was this was God’s plan. Jesus did not die merely as a victim of human injustice. He died to fulfill God’s justice. God had promised himself that sinners must die. This would be just. But Jesus stepped in as a substitute and died in the place of sinners who would trust him as Savior and Lord. Dying on the cross, Jesus did not merely bear the abuse of people. He bore the wrath of his Father – the holy wrath God felt against our sins.

But Jesus did not stay dead. Death could not hold the Son of God. The third day after dying, Jesus rose from the grave to show that his sacrifice had been accepted and death would no longer be the final word. Those who trust Jesus to make them right with God experience this same resurrection power.

If you trust Jesus as your Savior, the one who took your punishment and lived a perfect life in your place, and you bow to him as Lord, the one who rules your life, God promises you will be completely forgiven and receive adoption into his family. You will be able look forward to a new creation where a redeemed humanity, former rebels rescued and washed, will live in perfect relationship with each other and with God.

If you would like to know more about how God rescues rebels, find a Bible and read the first four chapters of the book of Romans. To learn more about Jesus’s life and work, read the book of John or one of the other gospels.

Reason #2 We Don’t Pray Together: Hypocrites

Series Intro:

In an earlier post, I suggested that, even as Christians – and maybe especially as Christians – we are uncomfortable praying with one another. Outside of a select number of (sub)culturally approved contexts, we find it uncomfortable to stop a conversation with a friend and say “Let’s pray” (particularly if the conversation is actually an argument and the friend is actually your wife). We may talk a great deal about God, his will, and the worldview he wants us to have, but we talk very little to him together.

Why do we feel awkward about spontaneous prayer in the midst of interpersonal conflict, logistical difficulties, or other standard-issue features of life? I think there’s a number of factors. Fear of hypocrisy has a role. Fear of seeming holier-than-thou has a hand. Misleading caricatures of faith and forgiveness also play their parts. Over the next few blogs, I plan on considering six reasons we are uncomfortable praying with one another and hope you’ll follow along. Why? So we can agree corporately that we suck and do our protestant psychological penance? Not interested. Rather, I hope God will use these reflections to expose lies we have been believing and renew our minds with truth. I want to live in more conscious dependence on Him together with you and I want to experience the power in our relationships that will come from recognizing his power, presence, and authority in our midst at every moment.

So…why is spontaneous prayer awkward? Why don’t we pray together?

Reason #2) We see the other person’s sin & fear they can’t pray without hypocrisy.

I want to be a pastor someday, so I can neither affirm nor deny ever thinking a thought so astoundingly arrogant but, um, I have <cough> a very close friend who tells me he occasionally has thoughts like the following:

• Ha! He can’t even put his anger in check. He’s an out of control jerk. Suggesting we pray would just seem antagonizing!
• Her? Pray? Didn’t you just hear that venom and vitriol she was spitting? Doesn’t James rebuke those who pray to God and curse others with the same tongue?

Since you are a better person than that, you can just go back to thanking God that you are not like me, er, him.

But isn’t that the way our minds run? Our thinking breaks down something like the following:

1. God hates hypocrisy and won’t listen to unrepentant sinners
2. My husband/wife/friend’s persistence in sin despite my appeals demonstrates unrepentance.
3. Therefore, God won’t listen to their prayers

At a simplistic level, this is a solid syllogism.

The major premise is true. We know that God hates hypocrisy. He is a God who thunders:

“Hear, O my people, and I will speak; O Israel, I will testify against you…What right have you to recite my statutes or take my covenant on your lips? For you hate discipline and you cast my words behind you…” Ps 50:7, 16

He laments, “This people draw near with their mouth and honor me with their lips, while their hearts are far from me…” (Is 29:13) and warns, “Your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God, and your sins have hidden his face from you so that he does not hear.” (Is 59:2)

The LORD is a God who will not be taken lightly. His patient slowness may be mistaken by some for apathy or impotence, but it will not always be so. He is a God capable of terrific fury. Psalm 2 warns, “Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and you perish in the way, for his wrath is quickly kindled.” Psalm 7 extends this, “If a man does not repent, God will whet his sword; he has bent and readied his bow; he has prepared his deadly weapons, making his arrows fiery shafts.”

God takes sin very seriously and does not listen to the unrepentant.

The minor premise may be true too. Your husband may be unrepentant at the moment. Your wife may be giving into sinful habits. He or she may be acting downright mean. I am afraid I have seen a neo-perfectionism in some reformed circles that so emphasizes regeneration as “complete” that it practically dismisses the ongoing presence of indwelling sin in Christians – leaving us to either question our friends’s salvation or downgrade their sin to a “mistake” or “failing”. This is not biblical and it’s not helpful.

Nor is it necessary to take “love hopes all things” to mean a loving person can’t call a spade a spade. A person can be saved, born again, a new creation, and still feel sin’s strength. We are saints and we are sinners. The former is absolutely more significant; but the latter is not irrelevant.

“Saint” (“set-apart one”) is our definitive identity.
“Sinner” continues to be a descriptive reality

And it’s the reason we still need Jesus. Our prayer each day includes both, “Give us this day our daily bread” and “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.”

So, let’s lay it out there – your spouse or friend may, in this moment, be indulging in sin and not repenting.

The conclusion fails. Sometimes a conclusion that seems to follow from an argument fails because it doesn’t account for key factors. In this case, we often fail to account for God – and he’s a pretty big factor to miss. We assume that what is is – definitively, irrevocably – but God regularly laughs at what is. “Oh, formless and void? Let there be light and land and living things!” “Oh, Sarah is 90 and barren? She’s going to bear a son.” “Oh, there is a sea blocking your only escape from Pharoah’s army?…There, I moved it.”

Your friend may be hard, so hard they won’t hear God’s truth from you. But that is not the final word. God’s sovereign goodness is not intimidated by hard hearts. God hates hypocrisy, as he hates every sin, but hypocrisy is no more difficult for him to break through than any other sin. God does not owe us grace when we are unrepentant, but that does not stop him from showing grace to the unrepentant. In fact, that is the only way any of us are saved:

“But God demonstrates his love for us in that, while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Rom 5:8)

If all this is true of any sinner, how much more confidence can we have when we are talking about a brother or sister-in-Christ? If you trust your wife is saved, then she is one God has given new life and filled with His Spirit! If you husband is a Christian, sin’s rule has been definitively broken. Jesus has a plan to make his bride spotless, “a people zealous for good works.” (Tit 2:14) and he who began a good work in them will continue it till Jesus comes back (Phil 1:6).

These are glorious truths but what do we do while we wait, while we live in the pain of a friend’s failings or a spouse’s sin? Go to Jesus and ask him to fix it. And while you’re at it, bring your friend. If they are repentant, go with them to Jesus. If they are broken, coax them to Jesus. If they are still hardened, take them to Jesus. God is greater than our hearts. Get them to him.

Reason #1 We Don’t Pray Together: Hypocrisy

In an earlier post, I suggested that, even as Christians – and maybe especially as Christians – we are uncomfortable praying with one another. Outside of a select number of (sub)culturally approved contexts, we find it uncomfortable to stop a conversation with a friend and say “Let’s pray” (particularly if the conversation is actually an argument and the friend is actually your wife). We may talk a great deal about God, his will, and the worldview he wants us to have, but we talk very little to him together.

Why do we feel awkward about spontaneous prayer in the midst of interpersonal conflict, logistical difficulties, or other standard-issue features of life? I think there’s a number of factors. Fear of hypocrisy has a role. Fear of seeming holier-than-thou has a hand. Misleading caricatures of faith and forgiveness also play their parts. Over the next few blogs, I plan on considering six reasons we are uncomfortable praying with one another and hope you’ll follow along. Why? So we can agree corporately that we suck and do our protestant psychological penance? Not interested. Rather, I hope God will use these reflections to expose lies we have been believing and renew our minds with truth. I want to live in more conscious dependence on Him together with you and I want to experience the power in our relationships that will come from recognizing his power, presence, and authority in our midst at every moment.

So…why is spontaneous prayer awkward? Why don’t we pray together?

Reason #1.) We recognize the sin mixed in our responses and fear looking like hypocrites.

• He did it again. Seemingly oblivious to the facts that dishes don’t clean themselves and others might want to use the kitchen, your roommate has left the kitchen sink piled so high with dirty cups, cookware, and cutlery that even getting a glass of water is a feat of engineering. Being a master of subtlety and grace, you wrap the dishes up in his bath towel and place it strategically on his pillow. He’s not impressed and tells you that’s gross and disrespectful. You drop some relevant Proverbs about the sluggard and tell him to grow up. In the “conversation” that ensues, there never seems to be an appropriate place to say, “Let’s take this to the Lord”…
  —
• She did it again. Of course – she’s sorry. She’s always sorry, apologizing profusely for failing to keep her commitment, but that doesn’t change the fact that the last minute scrambling and late nights fell to you. You’re not trying to punish your friend, but you’re exhausted and feel in a funk. If she feels a little coldness from you, it’s not more than she deserves, right? You feel a few pangs of conscience. Maybe you should go beyond your perfunctory granting of forgiveness and take both her brokenness and your bitterness to Jesus…but won’t it seem fake and forced?
  —
• You did it again. It had been a hard day and stepping on those Legos had been the last straw. Is it too much to ask for sharp plastic toys not to be left on the stairs? After your explosive tirade, the kids have been walking on eggshells. Could anybody take you, and God, seriously if you suggested you should pray together?

So, what is the golden key? How do we get past our hypocrisy so we can pray with others? At this point, I want to pull a Bob Newhart and yell at both you and me, “Stop it!” No, I don’t mean stop being a hypocrite. I mean we need to quit trying to “get past our hypocrisy.”

Oh, I don’t mean it like that. Hypocrisy is a serious problem that drew some of Jesus’s sharpest rebukes. If we play at religious routines and rituals while we live in rebellion against God’s commands, we are under God’s wrath. We should want our walk to match our talk. We should be striving for greater holiness. We should always be like Paul, pressing “on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil 3:14) But if we are going to imitate Paul as he instructs in this passage (v. 17), we must imitate his faith as we imitate his effort. Paul’s ambition did not flow from having arrived. He was comfortable admitting weakness, saying, “Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect…” (v. 12); but what freed Paul up to press forward was an important mental setting that is integral to faith. He continues, “But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what like ahead…” (v. 13)

Paul wasn’t shackled by hypocrisy because he wasn’t shackled by past performance. He was free, not because he had built a respectable portfolio of piety, but because he had tossed that whole game and gone all in with Jesus. So often, our embarrassment over hypocrisy is the flip side of pride – the one is just a bit more successful (either in practice or PR). Successful pride boasts; failed pride blushes. Paul scrapped them both.

Whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ…for his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith. (Phil 3:7-9)

Friends, Jesus died for your sins – including your hypocrisy. His righteousness is perfect, even when yours is not. His commitment is complete, even when yous is weak. Imitate Paul and come to Jesus. Forget what lies behind and come to Jesus. Give up on self-reliance and come to Jesus. Come in repentance over your hypocrisy. Come in brokenness over your sin. Come to be forgiven. Come to be washed. Come to be renewed.

And while you’re at it, bring a friend.

Yes, bring that friend that wronged you. Jesus will forgive them too. And he’ll help you forgive as you have been forgiven. Come to Jesus and together celebrate the mercy and grace of our great God.

Retweeting Outrage: Reflections for the Compulsive Opinionist

The age of the internet has given us wonderful and horrifying power. Never before have so many people had such immediate access to so much news. It is instant and virtually unlimited (if you can find decent wi-fi).

But this is not simply a large inert mass, like an ocean of data, available for the occasional deep-sea fishing excursion. The streams of social media are more like wind currents blowing about us, pushed along by news outlets and the fickle “Like”s of the masses (ahem – that would be us). Every search, every share adds strength to the hurricane-force data gusting about us.

The breadth of the news is overwhelming and its speed is breathtaking. In minutes, our various feeds may inform us of everything from cults to culture, politics to polyscience, sports to cinema – touching issue ranging from the local scene to the national and international stages. It’s exhilarating, if exhausting, to keep up with; but we dutifully press on, pinning, posting, and pontificating on this and that – convinced of the important contribution our 3 min op-eds.

Unfortunately, far too often our prolificacy only proves the proverb “Where words are many, sin is not absent” (Pr 10:19). Not only do we speak in ignorance but, carried along by the first gust of outrage, we speak with too much force.

Into this storm, the Lord speaks a word of caution and a word of calm from James 1:

Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.

It breaks my heart how quick some of my own friends are to spout off a condemnation of this man’s integrity or that man’s motives from hundreds of miles away. Brothers, let us be slow to speak! We are not so insightful that we can, in a moment, see clearly through the clouds of conflicting accounts, indeterminate details, and mitigating circumstances what trustworthy men and women closer to these situation are slow to conclude.

Of course, we say we have our reasons for doubt. What if those close to the situation have too much to lose to speak up publicly? What if there is pressure from the powers that be to keep silent and keep the peace? When controversy blew up a few months ago over plagiarism in a Mark Driscoll book, some accused an “Evangelical Mafia” of covering over the affair. Of course, while D. A. Carson, Peter Jones, and others chose to let the scandal die out quietly, there were many like a friend of mine who took the opportunity of dust being kicked in the air to inveigh against Driscoll, insisting that the mere presence of the controversy showed his “lack of holiness.” (To his credit, I believe my friend has since pulled down this comment and I am grateful for that show of humility)

Don’t get me wrong – with Jared Wilson (in his exemplary response), I think Driscoll was in error. I think he was sloppy in his scholarship and rude to Janet Mefferd. I thought his apology was weaksauce.

But it’s a big jump from those evaluations to a verdict that declares a man distinctively “lacking holiness.” Even if you feel little charity towards Driscoll, Occam’s razor might instruct you to begin a psychologically simpler explanation. Is it possible he intentionally stole the intellectual property of his friend, Dr. Jones, and then lied to cover it up? Sure. Is it more plausible that he got caught up in his own self-importance and began letting books he wasn’t intimately familiar with get published under his name? I think so – especially when those who are in the position to know are restraining public rebuke.

Am I arguing for blind trust in an Evangelical aristocracy? No. But I would suggest our limited sight often qualifies us as legally blind, and I can think of worse people to trust than some of the godly, discerning leaders we have today like John Piper, Al Mohler, D. A. Carson, Kevin DeYoung, and Tim Challies. I am going to gratefully receive the leadership of men like these not because they are infallible, but because I am certainly not either.

Does this put a lid on all independent thought? No, God has given you a mind and called you to use it. The important thing is that we slow ourselves down a bit. The world does not need all our opinions and they certainly don’t need all our outrage. In a day when “content creation” is a burgeoning industry and your online value is tied closely to your verbosity, let us make sure our tongues (and our fingers) do not outrun our minds. At one level, this is a problem unique to the 21st century. At another, it is the same, age-old problem James spoke into when he instructed, “let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.”

Hitting “Snooze” on the Holy Spirit

“Brrraaaa! Brrraaaa! Brrraaa!”

My alarm screams. Ugghh. Why do mornings come so early? Why do alarms have to be so loud? I stumble across the room and grab my phone, smacking its face as I clumsily attempt to kill the cacophony. As I stand there with the room settling back into silence, I think about slipping back under the covers for a few more winks. After all, I have a second alarm set…

But that second alarm doesn’t work, does it? I have repeated this scene many times, but a few mornings ago it struck me – the second alarm will never ring. As experiences spun through my memory, I could recall many times waking to my first alarm, conscious enough to note the time and decide “I need a few more minutes sleep.” I had no memories of turning off the second bell.

The problem is not in my phone. I’m almost OCD in checking the alarm is set. No, the problem is not technological; it’s psychological. I realized that, at my first alarm, I set a pattern and I choose a priority. I decide:

1. I am OK ignoring alarms
2. I value sleep more than engaging the opportunities this day presents.

Once these decisions are made, my psyche goes on autopilot. I may sleep through the alarm. I may unconsciously turn it off. I may never know which.

The reason this is significant is that this truth transfers to many other areas of life. How we interact with first warnings affects everything. The young “true-love-waits” couple pushes past standards they have set and find themselves “fallen into” immorality together. The business-to-the-glory-of-God salesman bends the truth once for convenience and begins to harden into a spin-doctor willing to do anything for the contract. The smallness of these first skirmishes is misleading; yet the patterns and priorities chosen in these battles will massively affect the outcome.

One of the most dangerous patterns to set is blowing past the warnings of your conscience. Conscience is an odd thing. It is part of us; yet it is apart from us. It has Godlike authority; yet, like man, is fallible. It can be influenced and educated yet never argued against. 1 Corinthians 8:7-12 equates leading a brother to violate his conscience with “destroying” him. In a similar context, after acknowledging that “everything is indeed clean”, Paul warns, “But whoever has doubts is condemned if he eats, because the eating is not from faith. For whatever does not proceed from faith is sin.” (Rom 14:20, 23) In many ways, our conscience is like any other God-given authority – imperfect yet meant to be obeyed. Our conscience is a key means through which the Spirit speaks, applying the Word of God to our lives. I think this is part of what it means to be “led by the Spirit” (Rom 8:14; Gal 5:18) and we ignore his voice at great risk.

Does all this emphasis on the first alert mean there is no value in setting up multiple roadblocks? No. I have a second alarm to help catch me when I unconsciously slip past my first. But there is a key difference between setting up a secondary alert as a backup for unintentional mistakes and setting up additional boundaries with little intention of honoring the first ones. The first says, “I want to make every opportunity for obedience.” The second says, “I want to make every opportunity for indulgence.” The first honors the conscience. The second honors the appetite.

“Today if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts…” (Heb 3:7-8) Don’t hit snooze on the Spirit.

Oremus (Let Us Pray)

Why are Christians uncomfortable praying with each other? At first, the question sounds ridiculous. Of course we’re comfortable praying together! We pray at church. We pray at dinnertime. We pray when someone is in the hospital…maybe…

No disrespect to those prayers that are part of corporate worship, our bluejean liturgy, or a good bedside manner, but what about spontaneous praying? When was the last time you randomly stopped talking to your Christian friend about God and His will in a situation and said, “Let’s look to God about this.” That would be a changeup, right? I confess that, in the midst of standard life, like working through interpersonal conflict or logistical difficulties, I am much more prone to spend the whole time sifting perspectives, talking out strategies, and even working out good biblical counsel than I am to suggest we ask God’s help or thank Him for His goodness.

I noticed this in my relationship with Athena. At risk of giving myself too much credit, I have tried to be faithful to lead with intentionality and biblical truth. I have not always loved well, but darn it, I’ve been intentional! I have been positively convinced that, with enough communication and Bible, we can resolve every issue. This is very close to truth. It is also very close to being godless. Praise God, He loved us too much to let this work – at least not completely. While our marriage has had continual growth, the Lord has left us enough painful, relational impasses to remind Athena and me that this is not just about us doing the right things. Talking is good for a marriage – if you’re married, talk more – but, without the Lord, talking may just stir up a fight. Without the Lord, your husband may refuse to engage. Without the Lord, you may say all the right thing but with tone, face, or posture that undermines your words. God-ordained means are not meant to be depended on apart from dependence on the God who ordained them. The Psalmist reflected,

Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep.” (Ps 127:1-2)

Now, as noted, it is good to talk through issues – just like it is good to build houses and stay awake on guard duty. But it is also good and necessary that we remember that Christianity is more than a worldview that equips us to do the right thing. Christianity has to do with living Coram Deo – before the presence of God. Christianity is about daily dependence; a moment-by-moment admission that we need God. Our strength is small; His is omnipotent. Our reach is short; His authority touches all. Our eyes miss the forest for the trees; He notes every sparrow that falls to the forest floor and clothes each flower peaking out beneath the oaks, elms, and maples. The God who pays attention to these minutiae cares intensely about your conundrum at work and the anguish in your heart at your youngster’s bold-faced defiance. Jesus’s words in John 16:24 carry both promise and conviction, “Until now, you have asked nothing in my name. Ask and you will receive, that your joy may be full.”

Wrapping back to my opening question, then, part of the answer to why we don’t pray together much is we don’t pray enough alone. But I want more than just a fresh resolve towards personal spiritual discipline. I think we have let social awkwardness grow up around ad hoc prayer together. Why does it feel awkward? Well, if you think like me, it could be…

1. You recognize the sin mixed with your responses and fear looking like a hypocrite
2. You recognize the sin in the other person and fear they are in no position to pray without hypocrisy. (I know, that’s really bad, right? Who thinks like that?)
3. You fear playing “the God card” will make you look sanctimonious
4. You fear prayer will short-circuit working through specifics. Caricatures of grace and love have made us buy into this idea that the “Christian” response is to forgive broadly and move on. It’s like a law against double jeopardy; once you’ve prayed about something, you’re not allowed to bring it back up.
5. You have relegated prayer to the closer because, similar to the last point, you’re not allowed to mess with something once you’ve given it to God. If faith is a one-size-fits-all “Let go and let God,” than to try to use means to improve the situation after you’ve prayed shows you really aren’t trusting God.
6. You fear that, if you do resume your discussion after prayer, disagreements will arise and show your prayers to be a failure.

Each one of these actually comes with a lot of baggage. Over the next few blogs, I may try to respond to some of them. In the meantime, however, don’t let these keep you back from praying with your wife or your son or that coworker or that acquaintance. Yes, you are something of a hypocrite. Together before God, you can confess that and praise God for His mercy. Yes, your husband is also still a sinner. Bring him, for there is mercy for him too. Come before the holy God and find that a “holier-than-thou” attitude is ridiculous. There you will also find a God who is not intimidated by messy situations. Look to him for grace and use God-given means. Seek more grace and talk more. In a conversation about God and His will, one of you may have the spiritual high ground; at the foot of the cross, you are equals. Comparing yourselves to one another, you have room to boast; comparing yourself to God, you have none. Prayer will not replace conversations where we must speak the truth to one another, but it helps guard the attitudes we have towards each other in the midst of those conversations. More importantly, it begs the help of the One who has the power to change hearts and help minds – and in Christ we will be heard.

Happiness is…?

“What? My kids are happy?” I was blown away when a friend dropped an offhand comment about our kids seeming happier than those of a shared acquaintance. This may seem dumb; but these mutual friends are good parents and, from my view, provide so much more opportunity for a full, experience-rich childhood. Comparing myself to others, I have felt guilt at times that our limitations in time, money, and energy are somehow resulting in a “sub-par” childhood for our kids – a “lame” upbringing that looks dull next to the glossy photos of Disneyland, sports camps, dance classes, and exotic vacations. My kids, bless their hearts, can rattle off requests a mile a minute and I have to answer most of them with, “No, we can’t do that.” “No, it’s too late.” “No, we can’t afford it.” “No, we aren’t comfortable with that.” Just call me “Mr. No-it-all”. How can our kids be happy, when they are missing out on so much?

At one level, this question seems ridiculous or even repugnant. We live in America. We own a home and two cars. I make a living wage on a 40 hr/wk. job. We can afford meat and veggies and spices and even occasionally eat out. We have cell phones. We have time for baseball and park days with friends. We are tremendously blessed.

And yet, more often, I am fixated on what I and my family are missing. Like the fat cows in Pharaoh’s dream, my gains in efficiency or income are quickly swallowed up by the thin cows of fresh wants and missed opportunities. I often feel like Hercules fighting the hydra. Every time I lop off a head, two more demands grow back. In a day when luxuries and “time-saving” devices are more available than ever, we are a people discontent and distracted. Instead of simplifying our lives, technology built to make experiencing the world easier has raised our expectation for what a full life must consist of. Social media has enabled us to connect to everyone; but the result is that we are so busy scrolling the feeds of hundreds of acquaintances that we have little time for real friendships. And the continual updates from these masses are a constant reminder of all the things we are missing. We want her new outfit, his new car, their new house, that wit, that wisdom, that opportunity, those friends. Abundance has allowed a taste of indulgence and leisure has given us time to notice what we don’t have.

With these reflections, it was interesting to discover that these struggles are not new to Americans. Writing in the mid-19th century and reflecting on his extensive travels, Frenchman Alexis De Tocqueville noted the curious discontent of our privileged people. After remarking on the placid good-humor of many lower-class Europeans despite oppression, ignorance, and poverty, Tocqueville observed,

In America, I saw the freest and most enlightened men placed in the happiest circumstances which the world affords: it seemed to me as if a cloud habitually hung upon their brow, and I thought them serious, and almost sad, even in their pleasures…The former do not think of the ills they endure, while the latter are forever brooding over advantages they do not possess. It is strange to see with what feverish ardor the Americans pursue their own welfare; and to watch the vague dread that constantly torments them, lest they should not have chosen the shortest path which may lead to it.

In actuality, this problem reaches back further than the founding of our country. Wise old King Solomon discovered this same principle in his quest for meaning and enjoyment documented in Ecclesiastes. He writes in Eccl 5:10-12,

He who loves money will not be satisfied with money, nor he who loves wealth with his income; this also is vanity. When goods increase, they increase who eat them, and what advantage has their owner but to see them with his eyes? Sweet is the sleep of a laborer whether he eats little or much, but the full stomach of the rich will not let him sleep.

Solomon is not saying there is no value in promotion, use for prosperity, or purpose to ambition. But he does want us to be clear that these things do not make a full life and they will not bring us happiness. Engagement is the measure of fullness, not attainment or acquisition. Enjoyment, not advancement, is the path of happiness.

Well, duh! Enjoyment=happiness. Thank you, Mr. Obvious.

Stay with me. This is not a tautology. Happiness, as we use the word, is a state and a feeling. Enjoyment, by contrast, describes an action – something we must choose to do. We do not have direct control over the former; we do over the latter. We must take time to enjoy.

But isn’t this the rub? Aren’t we all trying to enjoy life and just not having much success? Yes and no.

We are “trying to enjoy life” in the abstract, but failing to engage it in the concrete. We want to enjoy the world in a broad sense, but we are missing that the world is full of particulars that will not be noticed unless we pause. We keep looking to the future for what will make our life enjoyable instead of stopping and celebrating the blessings that surround us in the present.

What would Solomon advise? I think he would start with questions. “Hey, you got a job? You making some money and providing a service a good product? That’s great! Enjoy that!” (Eccl 2:24) “You married? Bachin’ it was dumb, right? And aren’t you glad God made your girl so good looking? Enjoy your wife!” (Eccl 9:9) “Dude, go have a meal! Get a drink! Enjoy good flavors and a full belly! (Eccl 8:15)

Enjoyment is about engaging God’s good world in the moment. But it will not happen on the fly. It takes time. It takes attention. It takes energy. It takes faith.

Enjoyment takes faith – a God-centered confidence – because we are completely dependent on the Lord. “Everyone also to whom God has given wealth and possessions and power to enjoy them, and to accept his lot and rejoice in his toil – this is the gift of God.” (Eccl 5:19) Enjoyment takes faith because God’s good gifts are mixed in with a lot of pain and difficulty. Enjoyment takes faith because we cannot completely blind ourselves to advantages we lack and are called instead to “Be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Heb 13:5)

In a future post, I would love to explore the proper place of ambition. We should not assume that resignation and inertia are the core virtues of Christianity. But there is something to be said for tempering our ambition when it is so driven and forward-looking that we have no time to engage and enjoy God’s good gifts now. I want to take time to smell the roses, savor my lattes, stare at the clouds, and excel at my work for the sheer joy of good business. If I can lead our kids into this attitude, I will have done more for their happiness than all Bill Gates’ money could buy.

When Silence is Selfish

My little brother moved in with us recently. This promises to spawn some interesting reflections since my brothers and I tend to create a resonance when together, amplifying aspects of “Kesselringness” that may already be overpowering in a single serving, much less with two, three, or four of us.

Bantering with John and his girlfriend the other night gave rise to the subject of pride – a vice of which my brothers and I may have been charged once or twice. (cough, ahem!) Such a charge is notoriously difficult to combat, since the beginning of a defense seems to further seal the prosecution’s case. In many such cases, of course, it is right and good simply to admit guilt and take your lashings. After all, who is really free of pride? Tim Keller has pointed to the shyness of humility, noting how any successful attempt at reformation, when observed, so easily becomes an occasion for feeling smug and noting our smugness may even impress us with our own sensitivity. We’re just digging a hole. Better to confess and shut up, eh?

Silence is attractive, if difficult. Our need for more of it is seen in exhortations like James 1:19, “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger” and wisdom like, “When words are many, transgression is not lacking.” (Pr 10:19)

Yet, while one hardly wishes to pit himself against such wisdom, I also fear silence. I’m afraid some of us may learn to ape the manners of meekness and assume we have its heart. I’m afraid our silence may peek out from hearts bent more on protecting our image than loving others.

I know this by experience. As a tag-along, kid brother hanging with with the highschoolers, I would routinely come home mentally flogging myself for babbling like a fool. Buttressed by Proverbial reminders that, “a chattering fool comes to ruin,” I committed myself to silence and had some success. I would only speak if there was no chance of being proven wrong.

It took half of college to realize I was missing opportunities to grow – and opportunities to love. My silence stemmed from selfishness. If we only speak when we are absolutely certain, we shut ourselves off from others when we need them most. We need others when we have doubts. We need others when our ideas are half-baked. A reserved silence may have the form of godly humility but may, in fact, be a form of isolating ourselves in pride. To this, Solomon would warn, “Whoever isolates himself seeks his own desire; he breaks out against all sound judgment.” (Pr 18:1) We know pride when it struts itself in pontification. Can we recognize it when it goes underground as a type of protectionism?

A selfish silence built on risk-aversion also misses opportunities to love. Perspective, properly offered, can be a precious gift. That parent may think their child’s rebellious behavior is normal, until a friend says, “She’s really out-of-control.” That overweight friend may think nothing of taking thirds until someone who loves him asks, “Is that helpful?” We cannot afford to wait for a philosophically impenetrable certainty to speak any more than a lifeguard should wait until a floundering swimmer has sunk to dive in.

Am I then encouraging unrestrained bombast? Is this a manifesto for the mouthy? Please, no! Most of us know the pain of being on the wrong end of someone’s dogmatism; however, I actually think the twin errors of two much talk and too little may flow from the same stream. Not only are both motivated by self-interest rather than love, but both of them work from the principle mentioned earlier that one should only speak when absolutely certain he can avoid successful contradiction. The only difference is the mouthy person has a lot more he is “absolutely certain” about.

What I am suggesting is that our communication should be a lot more variegated. Sometimes you will insist strongly from a clear Scripture text. Other times you will speak firmly from biblical principles, but be open to tweaking. Other times you will offer tentative thoughts. All of these have value, even though they vary in certainty. Perspectives can be provisional and still profoundly impacting. As you grow in humility, you will be hesitant to speak so insistently; but, please, for my sake, don’t quit speaking completely. If you can communicate your thoughtful opinion with openness that you might be wrong, you will have free access to my heart.

Birth of a Blog

O LORD, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. (Psalm 131:1)

Welcome to the world, little one. Nobody is here to witness your birth. Of course, no one was there to witness His birth either. The One who would change everything was born in a stable in the middle of nowhere. The One who would alter history forever slipped in unnoticed, except by a chosen few.

You cannot hope to rival his effect, nor would you want to. And yet, his entry does give hope for the little things, for He is the God of the lowly,

For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy:
“I dwell in the high and holy place,
and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit,
to revive the spirit of the lowly,
and to revive the heart of the contrite.” (Isaiah 57:15)

As He walked among us, He cried, “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest!” and He blessed them, saying, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God.”

You’re not much to look at right now. Neither was He. The prophet wrote, “He had to form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him.” (Isaiah 53:2) Do not fret over appearances but follow in his steps.

You exist because of Him. You exist for Him. Glorify Him in all you say and do not seek self-promotion. Seek to serve. Seek to help. Ideas are not playthings and words are weighty things. Use them to point others to Him and explain the way. Call my own heart to worship as I pour it out in raising you.

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O LORD, my rock and my redeemer. (Psalm 19:14)

Sharing the Gospel

Let’s say we get serious about the gospel, and how our understanding of grace impacts our evangelism…will we still share the gospel?

I hope in future posts to flush out how a balanced Calvinism should help our evangelism, apologetics, and other areas of life and ministry. Some personal thoughts on evangelism:

First, we want results; we want people to bow to Jesus – but our measure of success is not response, but faithful presentation.

Second, we want people to respond immediately to God, not to us. The biblical pattern is urgency (Heb 3:15), but we must not presume on the Lord’s work, because the Spirit blows where he wills (Jn 3:7-8).
By all means, if somebody is crying out in distress, “What must I do to be saved?” tell him, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved.” (Acts 16:31) But remember that others are not yet broken and need to be told, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow [Jesus].” (Mt 19:21) Don’t give people a pattern or a prayer, point them to Jesus and let him deal with them. We’re not their mediator!

Third, while hesitant about “relational evangelism,” I believe the biblical pattern for most Christians is evangelism in the context of life’s everyday interactions and relationships. The keystone verse for our Christian systems of intellectual persuasion (“apologetics”) – “Always be ready to give a reason for the hope…” (1 Pe 3:13), is actually not calling us to equip ourselves with archeological evidence that “proves” Christianity to be true. Rather, because God chose us to be a people who declare his gracious excellencies (1 Pe 2:9), Peter is calling us to let a living hope inspire holy living that baffles our neighbors. When Jesus’s people start giving up “the passions of the flesh” (1 Pe 1:14; 2:11) because we’ve got better pleasures waiting; when we start following Jesus in suffering meekly, even when misunderstood and maligned (1 Pe 2:21); when Christian wives quit trying to manipulate and graciously submit to insensitive husbands (1 Pe 3:1-2); when I can love you genuinely, sacrificially, because I have nothing to protect down here (1 Pe 1:22) – the unbelieving world’s gonna wonder what’s up. Somebody who’s dropping Benjamins like a wannabe drops names is either tripping or he’s got bank to back it.
Peter says in 3:15-16, “If you’re living right, they’re gonna be asking you what you’re banking on…be ready to talk about Jesus and holiness and heaven and love.”

That said, some use “relational evangelism” as an excuse to never talk about Jesus. “My life is my witness” is often a cover for cowardly Christianity. If your life revolves around Jesus, he’s gonna come up in conversation. Nevertheless, both holy living and holy conversation require intentionality.

Per Futurepastorswife’s request, here’s a gospel conversation I had with a 20 yr. old coworker named Steve. Please understand that, although I do most of the talking here, I had listened for a long time as
he talked about himself.

(In dialogue leading up to the gospel-heart of the conversation, Steve made some reference to drinking alcohol and then apologized somewhat because “I know you’re not into that…”)

(Laughing) Oh really?…What makes you think I don’t drink?…The funny thing is that a lot of people view Christianity as a bunch of rules that tell you what you can’t do. Don’t drink beer. Don’t have sex… Did you know that God actually created alcohol?

Really?

Sure. In the Bible, there’s a part where it’s talking about all the good things God gives his creatures and it says he’s given wine to gladden the heart of man. And it was God who came up with the idea of sex. We could have reproduced in a hundred ways, but God chose a way that was intensely enjoyable. See, God’s not out to ruin all our fun. He created the world to be enjoyed. People that just focus on
a bunch of negative rules miss that.

Yeah, I see that

Of course, there are rules. There’s a reason I’m a virgin. There’s a reason I work hard.

(Here, he noted that I was about the hardest worker in our area and I was able to give glory to Christ, I
hope)

But what I want to focus on is the passion behind the rules. What is keeping me from going out and getting laid tonight? A lot of people focus on the rules and lose the gospel of Jesus Christ. A bunch of rules doesn’t get me excited. What gets me excited is the fact that I used to be a rebel against God and now I’m forgiven. You might not have thought I was so bad, but the Bible describes all of us as rebels in a crowd of rebels following the devil, the prince of rebels. Well this means we’re all pretty jacked up, because God has promised himself to kill rebels. The Bible says the paycheck we get sinning is death. But, see, God didn’t leave me there. Jesus came to take the place of sinners like me. I could never do enough good to make God like me, but when I quit trying to make myself good enough for him and accepted what Jesus did, he took away all my sin. All this crap I was living for was placed on Jesus and he died in my place. Then he put all of Christ Jesus’s good works in my bank account. It’s like I had on this skank nasty hoodie with crap all over it and Jesus traded it for his brand new hoodie.

Huh, I’ve never heard it put that way…