On Paris, My President, and my Lack of Confidence

Paris. So sad. And what happened in Beirut last week is so sad, too. (How many of you even heard about Beirut? Look it up.) What's been happening in the Middle East and Europe for months. Sad, sad, sad.

But now the question is, what do we do about it. And that's the saddest part for me, because I don't trust our leaders to have the wisdom to know what to do about it.

Specifically Obama and his crew. And this isn't a political tirade nor a personal tirade against the man-- it's simply a fact about me right now. Personally, I don't have confidence in President Obama that he truly understands the nature of the situation and knows what to do to protect our country. I wish I did.

When I was studying psychological theories for my counseling degree in graduate school, I found
that I was able to divide the theories into two broad categories. On the one hand are the theories that are based in the idea that people are born good and only get messed up because of what happens to them externally. Bad parenting. Mean kids. Poverty and lack of opportunity.

On the other hand are the theories that are based in the idea that we are born with a tendency toward doing wrong and that it is only the constraints of society that keep us from really going off the deep end. External things can certainly affect us negatively as well -- bad parenting, mean kids, poverty, lack of opportunity -- but the germs of our problems were there from the beginning. Taking away the external wrongs doesn't fix the internal wrongs.

It is distressing to me how many people don't understand that the Bible is in the second camp, not the first. It is distressing to me how many Christians don't understand this. It is distressing to me how many Christians act in ways to try to improve things in the world, to build the kingdom of God, and do these things in God's name, and yet their actions are completely contrary in premise to the most basic teachings of the Bible.

And yes, this has to do with Obama and ISIS and Paris.

I have NO idea what to do about ISIS. I am profoundly grateful to not be in our President's shoes having to make decisions about the matter, and I have been praying for him (and all of our world leaders) daily for the decisions they need to make.

But as his constituent, one of the basic messages I have gotten from my President during his term in office is that the reason the world is the mess it is, is because the U.S. has been a busybody bully. We've stepped in to other people's business and forced our way on them, which has made them angry and made them act out against us. The answer is to back off, be respectful, give them the means to do the right things (which they, of course, will want to do) and all will fall into place.

This is right out of psychological theory camp number one. And it's foolish and dangerous.

Some semblance of this method might work on a one-on-one basis . . . for example, with me and a defiant student. On a national level, this is a disaster. Surely he knows this. But as a general rule, he seems to operate from an incorrect worldview, which makes me distrustful of the wisdom of his actions. I expect more disasters to come. I expect weak responses to those disasters. And in all honesty, I pray for a stronger leader in the White House very soon.

However, even if I am not confident in my President, I am confident that he is only in that office because God put him there. And I am confident that God is more in control of world affairs than my President is. Whatever tragedies or victories follow this already tragic week, they are of God's ordaining and will ultimately serve His purposes.

Somebody remind me of that truth when the next tragedy hits closer to home.

Baltimore and Paris: A Tale of Two Cities

My 9th grade Bible class prayed for Baltimore yesterday morning. But I hadn't anticipated Baltimore coming up later in English when we discussed A Tale of Two Cities. The comparison was quite appropriate, however.

ToTC takes place during the French Revolution, and Dickens gives us powerful descriptions of the corruption of the French aristocracy and its oppression of the French people. Communities are taxed to the point of starvation. A child is run over and killed without even an apology. Hungry families are told to eat grass. The "Monseigneur" and his class were abominable.

But the uprising of the people becomes even more of an abomination. Thousands beheaded. Their tribunals a travesty of justice. Innocents sent to the guillotine themselves for merely expressing grief over the execution of a loved one. People coming to watch the daily beheadings as entertainment, reveling in the blood running in their streets. Women bringing their knitting to the daily show. A man hopes for a young girl to be named among those to die, because her pretty blond curls will look so nice on the Barber's blade.

Horrific.

By the point where we are in the novel right now, the evils of the aristocracy, unjust as they were, are almost forgotten. The evils done in answer are their equal, if not worse. Yet the Citizens of France claim them to be justified in answer to the injustice done to them.

Just as I heard a black commentator on CNN Monday night tell us that what was happening in Baltimore was not a riot -- this was an uprising, and one perfectly justified in light of the injustices done on the black community.

One good French aristocrat gave up his rights and inheritance, refusing to be a part of the corruption he was born into. He returned to France later during the Revolution, expecting to be accepted as one of the people and hoping to be a force for peace. Instead, he was jailed and sentenced to execution. Once a Marquis, always a Marquis.

I wonder how many of those injured police officers in Baltimore actually participated in the injustice their department is accused of. And if any of them might have tried to stop it. Yet they got a rock to the skull as well.

To me, the most fascinating character of the novel is Dr. Manette. A Bastille prisoner himself, falsely accused and almost destroyed by the evils of the French aristocracy. But he was saved by the love of his daughter, and he is now appalled by the evils of this Revolution. He is loved and admired by the French Citizenry, yet he can not stop the flood of hatred. He can only walk in the midst of it, speaking truth, saving a person here, a person there.

And I recall images of black ministers in suits walking the streets of Baltimore Monday night. Victims themselves, most likely. Saved by love. Speaking truth. Stopping one crime here, another there.

An exact analogy it is not, yet the comparison is valid. Unfortunately, Dickens offers no instructive solution for us. His novel ends with the good guys escaping Paris as it continues to self-destruct. This is not an option for Baltimore. I do find it interesting, however, that even Dickens, who was not a believer, instinctively seemed to understand something about the only real answer to such injustice and hatred. The hero at the end of his novel is a man who voluntarily steps in to be executed in place of another.

There is a reason why the Classics have become Classics. They speak timelessly to the condition of humanity's soul.

Watching With Your Brain On

The eldest's boyfriend was with us over the holidays and my girls introduced him to "Once Upon a Time" -- and got him properly addicted, like the rest of us are. Thanks to Hulu, as of yesterday, our family is caught up with the rest of the world and ready for new episodes to begin airing March 1st. Counting the days.

My 9th grade Bible class had an interesting discussion last week about entertainment and how we decide what is okay for us to watch as believers and what is not. An important verse we focused on was 1 Corinthians 10:31: So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. Whatever we do must glorify God -- that is, it must proclaim who He is and the greatness of who He is. 

So, can we glorify God by watching a TV show that was not made to glorify God? Well, maybe.

The key point in our lesson was the need to be an active viewer and not a passive one. Most people (believers and nonbelievers) seem to use TV and movies to veg out to -- they just sit and absorb mindlessly, not thinking much about what is entering their minds. This is a problem. Because even shows that ARE made to glorify God will be imperfect and may have content that we should not be absorbing mindlessly. (There are even stories in the Bible that would be dangerous to absorb mindlessly.) We must engage our brains at all times when they are being influenced by narrative and images.

For example, I've talked with one of my daughters about some of the recurring themes in "Once Upon a Time," such as I will always find you. This is a motto for Snow White and Prince Charming, two of the main characters, who throughout their adventurous relationship are always being torn apart and seeking each other again. Doesn't this phrase bring to mind Jesus' parable of the lost sheep? God never abandons His own, never lets them stay lost; He will always find you. These two very imperfect characters are exemplifying one of God's most glorious attributes: his unconditional, never-failing love.

Another recurring theme: Magic always has a price. (Although I think I've only heard this phrase applied to what the show refers to as "black magic" -- "white magic" or good magic never seems to be as costly. Nevertheless . . . ) Whenever someone seeks out a magical solution to a problem, a solution that involves disrupting the natural order of things, they are always warned that it will cost them something. And yes, looking for answers outside of God's order and will . . . this would be sin. And yes, it always has a price.

But the prominent theme right now in the series seems to be the question of a person's nature. Evil is not born -- it's made, we have been told throughout the series. And we are always treated to the back story in every evil character's life, the things that happened that turned them bad. They weren't always this way; something or someone messed them up. And this is something I appreciate in the show. I have always taught my daughters to remember when they are wronged by somebody that this person is probably acting out the wrongs that have been done to them over the years. Sinners need our compassion more than our condemnation.

But the reason for this is because "there but for the grace of God go I." We are ALL sinners; we are all wrongdoers; we all have the capacity for great evil within us. Even the good guys in the show have done some terrible things. Snow White, the ultimate goody-two-shoes, murdered the Queen of Hearts. Even she has darkness in her heart. 

The big question now is can they change? Regina, the evil queen, is trying desperately to be a better person. Mr. Gold is trying desperately to appear to be a better person while still hanging on to his power. Can they actually change? Or are they doomed to the fate written for them by the Author of the storybook? 

It remains to be seen how Kitsis and Horowitz, the show's creators, will answer that question. But while watching, we remember that we already have the answer to the question. We know how people can change. We know the Author and the means he provided to rescue His fallen people. When we engage our minds and "have a conversation" with the show as we watch it (as opposed to mindlessly absorbing), we remind ourselves, and anyone listening, of what the truth really is, of who God really is and who we really are. We are making God known -- glorifying God. 

There's a fine line, of course, but I don't think I'm rationalizing my addiction here. I genuinely do find that watching this show helps me clarify truth in my mind. I find this with some other shows that fellow Christians object to, as well -- Harry Potter, for example. Paul points out in one of his letters that we cannot separate ourselves entirely from godlessness as long as we are living in the world. We must learn how to engage with it in a godly way. 

I hope I'm teaching my girls that. Turning off the TV is easy (and at times necessary), but turning on your brain is much more difficult -- and much more important a skill to learn, I think. The world we live in doesn't have an "off" button. It requires us to engage our brains.

Doing Violence to our Sin

We reached a troubling passage of scripture at BSF last Tuesday. The part where Israel creates the golden calf. But it's not the calf itself that troubles most people, interestingly enough (frankly, we're all quite comfortable with the idea of a dramatic falling away from God -- we witness it in our own lives all the time).

It's God's response that troubles folks -- and troubled me. He has Moses call anyone "on the Lord's side" to come to him, and then instructs them to take swords and walk through the camp killing. In the end, about 3,000 rebellious Israelites are slain that day. That's less than one percent of the group, but still a significant number. Our BSF lesson notes said that it was the "ringleaders" of the group who were killed, but I personally didn't see anything in scripture that indicated that was the case. (I'll keep studying this passage. I assume they come to that conclusion based on other scriptural principles and how they would apply here.)

In any case, such a massive slaughter understandably disturbs many. It doesn't sound like a "God of love." But I was reminded in our lesson, and in my pondering it this week, that we need to be careful in our exultation of this one glorious characteristic of our God to not forget about His other characteristics. He is also a God of purity. And a God of justice.

Our teaching leader compared this to a case of gangrene. When I first learned about gangrene, and how soldiers who acquired it in the battlefield would have to have limbs amputated, it horrified me. But that's the nature of the infection: it spreads very quickly and is absolutely destructive. There's no playing around with gangrene . . . no dabbling with methods to slow it down . . . no patient "tolerance" . . . you have to cut the stuff off completely. This was truly the only loving way to help the infected soldier. Any weaker response in the name of kindness meant death.

We even see Jesus promoting a similar principle. "If your right hand causes you to sin," he said, "cut it off. If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out. It's better for you to live your life a bit maimed than to lose your life completely later in eternal punishment."

I used to gloss over this passage, trying not to think about how . . . primitive Jesus' approach sounded. I mean, it's not our physical hand or eye that causes us to sin. It's a dumb command.

But then I had a friend tell me about her husband. Her husband who had just confessed to her that he was addicted to internet porn, and who told her (this was twenty years ago or so) that they needed to get rid of their internet connection so he wouldn't be tempted so much. AHA. Then I got it.

If your internet connection is causing you to sin, cut it off.

If that TV show you enjoy is causing you to sin, cut it off.

If your friendship with your old college buddy is causing you to sin, cut it off.

If your job . . . where you pass that tempting woman every day who has made her willingness abundantly clear . . . where you have little or no accountability for your time and whereabouts and opportunity for indiscretion abounds . . . yes, even that job that is putting food on your family's table . . . if your job is causing you to sin, cut it off.

If Jesus expects us to be willing to give up an appendage, how much more these things?

Because we simply don't take sin seriously enough in our society. Not other people's sin -- many of us are quite obsessed with other people's sin. We don't take our own sin seriously. And it's our own sin that we're told to do violence to. Cut off your own hand. Set aside your own friends (even family). Excommunicate your own church members. Exterminate your own people.

If we see things from God's perspective -- the infinitely holy God whose primary purpose is to re-establish relationship with defiled humanity -- it makes more sense.

The sin in our lives deserves a dramatic response. Even a violent one.

Worried about The Church

I'm a lousy blogger these days. One of the reasons I put myself on this schedule to blog every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday was to force myself to write, to sit and think of something to say three times a week, to discipline myself into the mental activity of examining what God is communicating to me on a regular basis and articulate it to the world so I am held accountable.

Then I went "back to work." And I find all sorts of reasons to justify skipping a blog day. Some good reasons, some wimpy ones. I'm a lousy blogger these days.

I keep a document on the computer where I write notes to myself about ideas that pop into my head here and there that I might want to blog about sometime. I read through that list the other day and had to laugh; there are some items on there that I can't remember now what in the world I was thinking about. C'est la vie. That brilliance is lost to the ages.

But I do notice a pattern to my little jottings. I'm worried about The Church. About The Church not being who we are supposed to be . . . and blaming the rest of the world for that instead of ourselves.

Several weeks ago, a teacher in a Sunday School class we were visiting made the comment that we need to worry less about getting prayer back into our schools and more about getting prayer back into our churches. AMEN.

Another item from my list: when Robin Williams died, a good friend of his commented that the remarkable thing about Robin was that when he was tired or frustrated or at the end of his rope, he didn't get cranky and irritable -- he got all the more sweet and kind. Gentleness was his default mode, the place he went when his mask was off and his guard was down. And I thought, what a stunning denunciation on The Church when such a statement could be said of one who very likely was not a believer but could hardly be said of anyone in The Church. I don't think I've ever known anyone like that.

I was reminded this past week of the story in Acts about Paul addressing the Athenians at the Areopagus. He started by mentioning their many temples to many gods and acknowledging their obvious religious devotion. Then he pointed out their temple to "an unknown god" and offered to fill them in about that god they don't know yet. He approached them with gentleness and respect. He quote their own poets and spoke their own language -- not just the Greek language, but the language of education and intellectualism. He didn't berate them for being sinners. How often does The Church berate people for being sinners rather than gently and respectfully filling in the gaps they are missing?

Many in The Church are fond of proclaiming that God is going to punish -- or is already punishing -- our nation because of our sin. Abortion, homosexuality, promiscuity, drug abuse, etc. etc. etc. God's wrath is coming upon us, people!

Here's the thing, folks: I think there may be something to that. I think God may allow a level of destruction to fall on our nation . . . but it's not because of the sins listed above. God expects the unregenerated to sin; their consequences are already set. If God punishes the United States, I believe it will be for the sins of The Church. The Church whose first command from her Lord was to preach the gospel -- not morality, not "the Christian nation", but the gospel of forgiveness for and deliverance from sin. The gospel of a New Covenant, a new relationship with the God of the universe. If The Church in America had been serious about fulfilling the Great Commission in our communities for the last several generations rather than simply making ourselves fat and comfortable in our "One Nation Under God," we might not be having to deal with all these other sins.

Revival starts with us, Church. With you and with me.

Standing and Continuing to Stand

My youngest is reaching that age.  That age where she is realizing what a broken world we live in.

I remember when my eldest reached that age, and it was kind of a sad thing to watch. Of course, she has such anxiety issues that my biggest concern was that the realization would cripple her with fear. The youngest isn't necessarily experiencing anxiety -- just distress and disappointment.

It is disappointing, isn't it? When you've grown up in a safe, loving home and the only bad guys are pretend people on TV and in the movies who all either get their dues or come around to the good side in the end, it's a bummer to find out that bad guys are real. And they sometimes flourish. And they sometimes hurt the good guys in big ways. And they sometimes go to your school.  Live in your neighborhood. Even in your house.

Even in your body some days.

And it's distressing to find out that even when you are a good guy and do all the right things, you are going to suffer. Everyone suffers in some way in their lives.  Sometimes it's the consequence of our own wrongdoing, sometimes it's the backsplash from someone else's wrongdoing, and sometimes it is just a seemingly random thing . . . cancer is no respecter of persons.

As I write this, a couple friends come to mind -- friends who I know simply dote on their children and cry with every milestone that comes along to remind them that these younger years are moving swiftly.  They have made every effort to shelter their children from any evidence of evil or suffering in the world, because they see the childhood years as an idyllic time to be innocent and carefree. And I think most of us have that image of childhood in mind (although these moms take it a bit to extremes). Santa Claus, lollipops, playgrounds, toys, friends, happy, happy, happy . . . this is what childhood is supposed to be.

Only maybe it's not.

I fear that we might -- just might -- be doing a grave disservice to our kids by protecting them so much from the harsh realities of the world. I wonder if maybe -- just maybe -- reality coming as such a shock is a sign that we have totally failed to prepare them for reality.  And perhaps -- just perhaps -- that was our job as parents after all.

When I taught honors sophomore English, I noticed that I had two types of students.  One type believed that if they worked their butts off now, when they were young, they'd be able to get a good job later, make a lot of money, and then they could relax, have fun, and enjoy life.  The other type were convinced that when they grew up and got jobs, life would be nothing but miserable hard work, so they needed to enjoy themselves now, in their youth, while they had the chance.

It was hard for me to convince them that they needed to learn to balance both the work and stress AND the rest and fun because life -- all of their life from now until the day they die -- consists of both.

Both pain and fun. Both suffering and joy. Both evil and good. Like learning to control both of the wayward water skis strapped to our feet that want to run in separate directions, we need to learn to stand on both extremes and continue to stand.

And maybe -- just maybe -- the reason we do such a lousy job of teaching our kids how to do this is because we do such a lousy job of it ourselves.

Three Stories

The Bible is rife with figurative language and imagery. Jesus himself taught in parables much of the time. Last night, at Bible Study Fellowship, I heard three stories -- well, two "examples" and one genuine "parable" -- all of which I have heard before, but they each spoke to me again very vividly.


* When Secret Service agents are taught how to recognize counterfeit money, they do not study examples of counterfeits. They study examples of the real thing -- thoroughly and frequently. They become so familiar with the look of a real twenty-dollar bill that when a fake is presented to them, they recognize it immediately and can identify exactly what is wrong with it.

In the same way, we don't learn to recognize false teaching by studying it for its flaws. What we need to do is immerse ourselves in what we know is true -- thoroughly and frequently. Then when a falsehood is presented to us, we recognize it immediately because it doesn't jive with the truth we already know.


* There is a species of catfish that has essentially lost its eyes. It lives where there is total darkness, and scientists hypothesize that because it has no need for vision, its eyes have practically scabbed over. Now, if it were brought into the light, it wouldn't be able to see anyway.

We, in modern America, live in a very dark world. Sin is rampant and truth is mocked. If we immerse ourselves in that darkness, we are in danger of losing our eyes -- of being unable to see light when it is there. Although we can't avoid living in the world, we must not be OF the world. We must be residents of the Light, and bring that light with us into the darkness when we go there.


And my favorite parable of the evening:

* A young girl had a favorite string of fake pearls that she wore every day and loved with a passion that only little girls can have for their favorite things. One day her beloved father came to her and asked her, "Sweetheart, do you know I love you?"

"Of course I do, Daddy," she replied.

"And do you love me?"

"More than anything, Daddy!"

"Then I need to ask something of you. I need you to give me those pearls."

The girl was very saddened at this request and couldn't imagine why her father would ask her to give up something she loved so much. But she took off the necklace and, after holding it in her little hands for a long time, tearfully gave it to her father and ran to her room. For two days, she mourned the loss of her favorite possession and wondered why her beloved father would take it away.

But then her father came home, pulled her aside with a smile, and pulled out of his coat pocket a string of real pearls -- far more beautiful and far more valuable than the string she had given up to him -- and fastened them around her neck.

Oh, how many fake pearls I am clinging to in my life! How many!!  Christ tells us that those who lose their lives for his sake will find them -- those who willingly give up their treasured fake pearls will get the real thing. Lord, give me eyes to see the falseness of my pearls and a heart to desire what is better.

He who has ears, let him hear.

The God of the Extremes

Recently, while googling a few innocent words to find a picture for a blog post, I was stunned to see several sexual pictures show up – a couple of them downright obscene. It nauseated me for a moment.

The other day, I witnessed an irate man in the Target parking lot screaming with absolute rage at a woman who had accidently hit his truck with her car. It hurt my heart to hear it.

I just recently found out that an old friend is separated from her husband and dating someone else. I almost cried.

Suddenly I seem to be confronted all day long with evidence of how broken and fallen humanity is (including myself), and I'm finding it almost unbearable. I'm repulsed. And I'm heartbroken. I wonder sometimes how God can possibly stand us – why he doesn't just destroy us all now.

I haven't always reacted this strongly to sin, my own or anyone else's. Usually, I treat it pretty casually, I'm afraid – just as most of us do, even the Christians among us. We proclaim loudly and boldly that God loves sinners and so do we, and then we immerse ourselves in the fallen world, becoming increasingly numbed to the horror of what's going on around us . . . and ultimately what starts happening within us. We laugh it off. Oh, old Joe and his beer that he can't handle! Old Martha and her cattiness! Old Bill and his greedy ways! We even choose to watch it as entertainment. We pay darn good money to watch people destroy themselves and each other.

But my recent reaction (and where exactly it's coming from, I can't say) saddens me some, too. My repulsion makes me want to cocoon myself away from the world, isolate myself from all the badness. That's the other extreme we believers tend to get pulled into, it seems. We condemn sin and sinners and hate them so much (even while we say we love them) and want to separate ourselves completely from that world – so we create our own little world with our churchy music, catch-phrase t-shirts, and scripture-coated breath mints, a world where we are completely useless to the work of Christ's kingdom. God, I thank you that I am not like other people, the publican prayed in Luke 18. How familiar that rings sometimes.

And we think the solution is to find a happy medium between the two positions, because we're wimpy finite humans and that's the best we can do or imagine. The problem comes when we paint God with that same paintbrush. I've been struck lately with the fact that God is such mystery, that He is rarely, if ever, the Golden Mean we strive for. More often, He is something that we have a hard time conceiving: he is the fullness of the two extremes. He is fully God AND fully man. He is transcendent AND personal. He is holy and just, AND He is loving and merciful. The fact that He can fully and completely embody two characteristics that we see as incompatible is part of what makes him God and us not.

God hates sin – fully, completely, and passionately. And he loves sinners – fully, completely, and passionately. That's what the cross is all about.

Repentance

Many years ago, I studied the history and prophets books in the Old Testament in a Bible Study Fellowship class.  I learned that 1 and 2 Chronicles covers the same historical period as 2 Samuel through 2 Kings.  Our teacher told us that the Samuel/Kings account is from the point of view of the historians, while the Chronicles account is from the point of view of the priests -- that is, it gives you more of an idea of God's view of the incidents.  If that's accurate, then it sheds an interesting light on the story of King Manasseh.

Manasseh was the son of Hezekiah, a king who "did what was right in the eyes of the Lord."  He was also the grandfather of Josiah, the king who led a tremendous spiritual revival in Judah.  But Manasseh himself was not a godly king.

In 2 Kings 21, the entire account of Manasseh's reign is about how bad he was.  He not only "did evil in the eyes of the Lord", but he did "much evil in the eyes of the Lord".  It says Manasseh led the people astray "so that they did more evil than the nations the Lord had destroyed before the Israelites." The prophets of the time linked Judah's coming destruction specifically with the actions of Manasseh.  And the account closes with the remark that "Manasseh also shed so much innocent blood that he filled Jerusalem from end to end."  This was one bad dude.  Ain't nothin' good to be said about him.

At least in the Kings account.  But the Chronicles account is different.  There, we have several verses telling us the same story of how Manasseh "did evil in the eyes of the Lord."  But in verse 10, the story changes:

¹⁰ The Lord spoke to Manasseh and his people, but they paid no attention. ¹¹ So the Lord brought against them the army commanders of the king of Assyria, who took Manasseh prisoner, put a hook in his nose, bound him with bronze shackles and took him to Babylon. ¹² In his distress he sought the favor of the Lord his God and humbled himself greatly before the God of his ancestors. ¹³ And when he prayed to him, the Lord was moved by his entreaty and listened to his plea; so he brought him back to Jerusalem and to his kingdom. Then Manasseh knew that the Lord is God.

And the rest of the Chronicles account tells us about this life change in Manasseh.  He rebuilds some of the wall around Jerusalem.  He cleans out the temple, tears down pagan altars he built, and begins sacrifices again to the Lord.  He instructed the people to serve only the Lord.

Interesting, isn't it?  This change in Manasseh's life apparently was too little too late for the nation of Judah.  The historians don't even mention it at all; as far as they were concerned, it was inconsequential.  But in the priestly account -- in the eyes of God -- it's the highlight of the story.  God's goal for Manasseh's life was for the two of them to have a relationship.  And the fact that this ultimately happened was not only worth noting, it was worth celebrating -- despite everything that happened before.

Nope.  It's never too late, friends.  Ask that thief on the cross beside Jesus.

And We're All Slaves to Something

The youngest and I have been reading Frederick Douglass' autobiography about his life as a slave.  (Our homeschool studies often lead to blog posts . . . one of the reasons I love homeschooling.)  Kind of overwhelming at times.  Slavery was just so horrendous.  So many observations and thoughts about it all.

Douglass talked about how it was preferable to be owned by a master who was not religious -- that the slaveowners who proclaimed the strongest religious fervor were also, generally, the most cruel.  Amazing -- absolutely amazing -- that people can be so deceived.  That they can believe they are so close to God and so right in their convictions and be so clearly and obviously wrong . . .

Oh, how we are able to justify sin to ourselves.

I remember when we read Booker T. Washington's autobiography how he talked about slavery being a wrong done to the slaveowner as much as to the slave.  That when the slaves were freed, the slaveowners were helpless to take care of themselves.  They didn't have the basic skills needed to survive without someone serving them.  Not to mention the spiritual poverty they were brought to by having such an immoral condition being presented to them from birth as normal and right.  (I greatly admire Washington's being able to view his oppressors with such objectivity and compassion.)

I was also struck by Washington describing the slaves who grieved leaving their masters when slavery was abolished.  Not every master was cruel.  Some were pretty good to their slaves, at least as good as one can be in such a situation.  Some slaves were devoted to their owners, felt genuine affection for them, unable to even conceive that they could be treated any better, that their lives could be any better.  This was all any of them knew.

Any right-minded outsider could look at their situation and see the chains that bound them, figuratively if not literally.  Yet they sat in their state of oppression and wanted to remain.  It felt natural.  It felt comfortable.  It was safer than that unknown state of freedom the abolitionists out there kept telling them was so great.  This was all they knew.

And, you know, we are all slaves to something.

So many applications here . . . for myself . . . for others I know . . .

That Me-e-ean God in the Old Testament

Hubby’s reading through the Old Testament these days.  Lots of judgment being meted out there.  The Old Testament has troubled a lot of people over the ages.  I just read about a sect in the Middle Ages who taught that there were two gods; the evil god was the god of the Old Testament, and Jesus came in the New Testament to tell us about the good god.  Quite heretical, but one can see how someone could wander to that conclusion.

But something else I read recently pointed out a detail that we don’t consider much (at least I haven't).  The New Testament covers maybe seventy years of history – certainly no more than a hundred.  The Old Testament, on the other hand, covers four thousand years of history.  An awful lot of the written material is about judgment, but these judgment passages cover forty times more history than the New Testament.  And Jesus and the apostles had a lot of judgment to mete out, too – proportionately, for the time period covered, it may even out. (Plus, some of those judgment passages are reiterations of the same crime that was expounded on in other passages.)

And yes, the Old Testament is quite a bit about judgment.  One of the important lessons that Israel – and every human on earth – had to learn is that righteousness is the standard, and destruction is the consequence, and there is no obtaining righteousness in our own strength.  Only when that fact is abundantly clear, deep in our souls, do we understand Christ and can we really accept him.

Besides, there is one very famous story from the Old Testament that dispels this notion of a hateful, vengeful, unmerciful God.  Everyone knows about Jonah and the whale.  But those not up on their Bible literature don’t know the best part of the story.

When Jonah finally repents and submits to God and is spit out by the “great fish”, he travels on to Ninevah to warn them of God’s coming judgment, as God had instructed him to do in the first place.  Ninevah was an Assyrian (therefore, pagan) city, the largest city in the world for a time.  [A sidenote: scholars for years believed the book of Jonah was an allegory because there was no evidence the city of Ninevah had ever existed.  But archeologists found it. And a lot of connections have been found between the city of Ninevah and fish, including the possible worship of a fish god . . . which adds a whole new dimension to the being-swallowed-by-a-fish business . . . but I digress.]

Jonah hated Ninevah and was all psyched for God to pour destruction on them for their evil ways.  But that’s not what happened.  The Ninevites, led by the king, heard Jonah’s message and became convicted.  They “turned from their evil ways” and “called urgently on God” for mercy.  And God relented.  That was the goal.  God was hungry for their repentence, not their destruction.

[Jonah, on the other hand, wanted destruction.  I think the church would do well to study some Jonah these days.  But I digress again.]

I think this is the only instance in the Old Testament of repentance on the part of a Gentile people, and God's response is mercy.  Why do we doubt he would have been merciful if others had repented?

There are certainly difficult passages in the Old Testament, but they are not as difficult as it would seem at first glance if they are put in appropriate perspective.  As they say, sometimes a little bit of knowledge – of the Bible and of other things – can be dangerous.

Honesty

Interesting the way the events of life have lined up these days.  An unexplainable act of evil.  A prediction of the end of the world.  The commemoration of a Savior's birth.  The pains and questions we are each dealing with in our own souls -- I have mine, you have yours.  No coincidences here, I'm sure.

Our immediate instinct after an event like Sandy Hook is to determine to take control of the situation so nothing like this ever happens again.  Take away all the guns -- or arm all the teachers.  Lock away all the mentally and emotionally disturbed -- or integrate them better into society so they heal.  Protect the schools like an army base -- or bring the kids home to homeschool.  Nothing ever actually gets done because we can't ever agree on what needs to be done.  Because deep in our hearts, if we're honest with ourselves (which we rarely are), we know there's nothing that we can do to fix this.

For many of us, our personal pains and questions echo the events of the day and take us even deeper.  We see pain within . . . we see brokenness within . . . we even see evil within, if we're honest enough to face up to it (which we rarely are).  And we are determined to take control of the situation so nothing like this ever happens within us again.  Stay away from people -- or embrace people more.  Put up protection walls -- or open up the heart to others.  Seek knowledge and advice -- or forget what I know and go by my instincts.  Discpline myself -- or indulge myself.  Nothing gets fixed within us because we don't really know how we need to be fixed.  And deep down in our hearts, if we're honest with ourselves (which we rarely are), we know that even if we knew how to fix ourselves, we couldn't or wouldn't be able to do it.

At some point, each of us must come to the horrible realization that we are out of the Garden of Eden and there is no way back.

Many of us never allow ourselves to realize that fact fully.  We psyche ourselves up with the idea of a spark of good within us all, ignoring the selfish motives behind all of our good -- rationalizing our selfish motives as self-actualization and healing, the ultimate virtue in modern life -- explaining away the evils prevalent in the world as "freedom" and "choice" and "nature", which must be inherently good.  We refuse to see how broken the world is, because if this is true, it seems to render our lives as a hopeless, meaningless wallow of futility.

Enter into our hopeless wallow . . . a baby.  A baby called "Christ the Lord" -- that is, the Messiah, the promised one, the one sent to save, who is by his nature Master and Sovereign over all and able to move the universe at large and the human heart at small to bring all things together for his glory and for the good of his people.

A Lord.  A holy, just, omnipotent, omniscient, all-loving Lord.  Exactly what we need, if we're honest with ourselves (which we rarely are).

Do Not Be Overcome by Evil

My little post last Friday about the sex talk seemed to weaken as the tragedy of the day progressed.  Oh.  There just aren't words for what happened in Connecticut.  I can't even allow myself to think too deeply about what actually happened in that school building -- it overwhelms me.  All I can do is pray.

All the talk about gun control and mental illness and school security is probably appropriate at some point and will need to happen.  But while my hubby and I were listening to the details roll in all day on Friday, we kept listening for people willing to proclaim the truth about this:  it was evil. 

I've mentioned before, I believe, our Bible study teacher from years ago who was a former Satanist.  Full-blown devil-worshipper.  Well acquainted with the forces of darkness.  And he used to tell us complacent, comfortable, cultural Christians in his midst, with great passion, "You just don't understand.  There is Satan.  There is evil." 

No gun restrictions, mental health care, or security measures can stop evil.  That doesn't mean we don't do what we need to do to be wise in those arenas.  But we cannot cure the disease without an accurate diagnosis.

Here's the good news:  the fact that we can recognize evil when it is in our midst reveals that we have an innate knowledge of what is not evil.  The presence of evil gives evidence of the presence of good.  The wonderful quote going around attributed to Mr. Rogers (and who knows, these days, if that attribution is accurate) reminds us that when bad things happen, there are always the good people there, too.  Teachers who give their lives to protect their students.  Firemen who march up the stairs of burning buildings to guide others out.  Policemen who buy boots for barefooted homeless men.

We can never forget, when Evil strikes in the worst way, that Good is there, and Good is stronger, and Good has a name and a battle plan and warriors on the field -- and what's more, the deciding battle has already been won.  As I told my youngest on Friday, Satan is no more than an enraged lame-duck trying to destroy as much as he can before he goes.

"Do not be overcome by evil," scripture tells us, "but overcome evil with good."  We would not be instructed to do this if, in the power of Christ, it were not possible to do.

Let's Make a Case for Modesty

I saw this on FB last week and haven’t been able to let go of it.  Dick Gregory reportedly has said, “If I’m a woman and I’m walking down the street naked, you still don’t have the right to rape me.”  Alrighty then.  Duly noted, Mr. Gregory.

And if I have a house full of expensive electronic equipment and leave town for a week with the front door standing wide open, you still don’t have the right to rob me.  And if I take $40,000 out of the ATM, spread it on my dashboard and leave the car in the mall parking lot with the windows open, you don’t have the right to take it.  My stupidity does not justify your evil.  However, my stupidity may still be worthy of mention and rebuke.

I understand Mr. Gregory’s point.  To blame a woman for her rape because she dressed or behaved seductively is inexcusable.  The rapist is to blame for the rape – and he should come under the full penalty of the law regardless of how the woman was looking or behaving.  And if the legal system is allowing rapists to get away with their crime because of the behavior of their victims, this should be changed.  No reasonable human being would argue this.

But is it not worth noting that a woman who chooses to dress and behave seductively in an environment where there are likely to be bad men who will have no qualms about taking that bait she’s offering – laid out on the dashboard with the windows open – well, she’s being stupid!  When did the right to “express your sexuality” become the freedom to flaunt your goods to the world and think that you should never have to worry about bad guys trying to take them without permission?  Nobody else has that “freedom”.  We all know there are bad guys out there and we lock up and protect our goods from them.  We drive defensively – we lock our houses – we pocket our billfolds – and we cover up our boobs.

There’s a line here between freedom and responsibility, and I’m seeing too many feminists dance a little too close to it.

Sometimes, It's So That . . .

Sometimes we need reminders . . .

The sermon yesterday was about Lazarus being raised from the dead.  When Jesus first hears that Lazarus is sick, he says, “This sickness will not end in death.  No, it is for God’s glory, so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” (John 11)

A drama we are working on for the first Sunday in August is based on the blind man Jesus heals in John 9.  When his disciples asked him, “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”  Jesus replied, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

Sometimes, when bad things happen to me, it’s because I brought it on myself.  But sometimes not. 

Sometimes, we lose jobs so that the works of God might be displayed in us.

Sometimes, we go through serious health crises so that God’s Son may be glorified through us.

Sometimes, we experience failure and discouragement so that others see God’s glory in how we respond.

Sometimes, evil is allowed to show its ugly face (like, in a movie theater) so that God's face shines more brightly by contrast.

Sometimes, it’s about us.  And sometimes, it’s about so much more.

Sometimes, I just need a reminder.

Lessons from the Holocaust

My eldest is reading Night by Elie Wiesel in her English class. Because of her history of anxiety, particularly with medical and health related issues, she was nervous about reading it. So, I had a discussion with the teacher about letting her off the intense stuff (teacher was VERY understanding), and I got a copy of the book to read myself so I could help her with it.

Surprisingly short book. Not surprisingly intense book. Horrific, actually. Inconceivable that people can be that cruel to fellow human beings. That evil.

But a friend reminded me yesterday of the electric shock experiments I heard about before. Subjects were asked to push a button thinking they were delivering electric shocks to another person they couldn't see behind a screen (the hidden people were not actually being shocked). Despite hearing the screams of their "victims", the subjects accepted the reassurance of the scientists in charge of the experiment that everything was fine and continued to give the shocks -- even increasing the dose to levels that could kill someone.

Lesson to be learned: while we need to obey the authorities we are under on earth, submission to authorities is never an excuse for turning off our own brain or disconnecting with our own conscience.

Another lesson to be learned: the first chapter or two of Night describes how the people in the narrator's little town kept hearing rumors of bad stuff happening to the Jews and refused to believe them. Even when a man who escaped from one of the massive group-graves came back and told them they were being exterminated, they blew him off. We don't need to leave, they said. The Russians will be here soon. The Germans don't seem as cruel as we have heard. They're just taking us to another town. The war will be over soon and we'll be going back home. Not until they actually stood on the ground at Auschwitz and saw the smoke from the furnaces did reality hit.

I also remember stories about the German townspeople living around the camps, how they completely turned a blind eye to what was going on. How they were able to convince themselves, despite the evidence that was there to be witnessed, that everything was fine, their government was on the up and up, and Germany was a great nation who would soon have victory over her enemies. Again, too trusting of the authorities . . . but even more so, too trusting of the lies they told themselves because they didn't want to believe the truth.

So, a couple of personal lessons to be taken from the Holocaust story -- we are capable of far more evil than we realize, and we are capable of far greater self-deception than we realize. And the personal application of these lessons? Well, for me, it reinforces my rejection of the "listen to your heart" mantra. The heart is deceptive above all things. We must have a source of truth outside of ourselves, and that source of truth must not be another fallible human being. I chose God and his word as my source of truth. There's no better choice.

Evil. Really.

I'm not sure why, but I read the Grand Jury report from the Jerry Sandusky hearings. It was horrible. I was particularly haunted by the testimony of the then-graduate assistant who walked in on Sandusky performing an unspeakable act on a 10-year-old boy in the showers at night and was so disturbed by it that he . . . left and called his father.

Really. My first thought was just that: really?? You saw this happening, you saw that they saw you seeing them, and you didn't stomp in there and pull that monster off of this child? But then I thought about it more. I put myself in the man's situation. And I'm stunningly afraid that I might have done the same thing.

I've never been exposed to violence and abuse like that. I can imagine walking around the empty locker rooms at night, hearing the noises, turning the corner and seeing that sight -- honestly, it had to have felt absolutely surreal. I can imagine doubting my senses, even my sanity. I'm sure I would have needed to step away and pull myself together, question whether I had actually seen what I thought I saw . . . and by that point, it would have been over, my word against his, and my word based on my shaky perception of the reality of it all. I might not have had it in me to step into the situation either.

I knew a man once who was a former Satanist, and he talked about how so many of us sheltered, comfortable Christians really only conceive of evil in the abstract. We'll say, "Yeah, I know there's evil and there's a Satan," and he'll tell them emphatically, "No, no -- you don't understand -- there is EVIL . . . there is SATAN . . ."

I know there is evil. But do I know it enough and believe it enough to recognize evil when it's staring me in the face? Or do I question my senses, my instincts, the Spirit within me, and call it something more benign? Or walk away altogether, not wanting to test whether or not He that is in me is really greater than he that is in the world?

I'm not sure I wouldn't have responded the same way this graduate assistant did in that situation. But I am sure I would have been haunted by my response for the rest of my life.