Tag Archives: Jesus

Lord Save us From Your Followers

“The Church is a whore, and she is my mother.”

No one ever faulted Tony Campolo for mincing words.  The above quote actually comes from St. Augustine, but was repeated by Campolo in the documentary film Lord, Save us From Your Followers.

A few nights ago, I watched Lord Save us from Your Followers with a group from my church.  In the movie, Dan Merchant, the movie’s creator and narrator, travels across the country gathering people’s opinions about Christians and church.  He talks to people on the street, pastors, as well as pundits from both the left and the right.  At times funny and entertaining, it nevertheless is a serious  attempt to get Christians to engage with the world in a more loving and compassionate way.  It’s basically a film version of They Like Jesus but not the Church, or UnChristian.

There were some critiques Dan leveled that I agree with.  First, in one part he pitted  ”young conservatives” vs a group of “liberal media elite” in a Family Feud-like game.  The game was an attempt to see which group knew the beliefs and worldview of the other best.  The liberals won easily.  He then pitted a group of college age agnostics vs a group of college age Christians in the same game.  This time, the Christians didn’t even score a single point.

The outcome was not surprising to me.  In the small group discussion afterwards, a few commented on that part of the movie, saying that we Christians typically know what we believe but aren’t able to get outside our bubbles to engage with the beliefs of outside groups.  I think that commentary was far too kind…most aren’t able to articulate the basics of the gospel without resorting to sloganeering!  This is especially pronounced in youth, where fun, “just hanging out,” and entertainment dominate youth groups.

Second, I can sympathize with his critique of the polarization of political discourse in America.  Lots of heat, very little light.  In an age where ratings drive everything and short attention spans dominate the landscape, the mud slinging is standard fare.  More of a circus act than an informative conversation characterized by mutual respect.
When Dan was focusing on this issue, I thought of a conservative radio show I used to podcast.  The host is a very smart man with a law degree, and he is a big player when it comes to influencing public policy in our country.  I respect the guy greatly, but I confess his radio show always left me disappointed.  For starters, every podcast–and I mean EVERY podcast–featured a controversy that was sure to drastically alter the West for ages to come.  It was as if every little Supreme Court hullabaloo was the beginning of the second coming.  In addition, I was looking to actually be informed, but all the host did–for ONE FULL HOUR–was give “rah-rah” speeches intended to rally the troops.  Very little actual analyzation of the controversy and examination of the detailed arguments of both sides.  If I took the knowledge that I gained from that podcast and used it in a conversation with someone from an opposing view, I’d be out of luck within about 30 seconds.

All that to say: I sympathize with Dan when it comes to being dissatisfied with the nature of political discourse in the U.S.

I also am somewhat sympathetic in his critique of the Church.  We’ve failed to love others as Jesus loves them.  I’ve failed to love others as Jesus loves them.  So tell me something new.

It is at this point, though, where my sympathies end.  I can’t help but think that he has gone too far in his critique.  There *is* a place for legitimate critique and exhortation of the Church, Christians in general, and me as an individual; otherwise, this blog in general and this post in particular would be out of bounds.  We can always do better. 

However, this movie is a small part of a very large trend; it is quite common fare to criticize the church and Christians for being unloving, narrow-minded, and intolerant, etc, etc.  I hear apologies on behalf of Christians from the pulpit quite often.  My pastor is very fond of doing that.  On Facebook and in face to face conversations, my Christian friends will bag on Christians and the Church for being rigid and such.  Books that critique the church–such as the ones mentioned above–are best sellers and the talk of  the town.  We’re frequently wringing our hands about the offense we’ve caused non-believers.

It seems like we just have this urge to self-flagellate and beat ourselves up.  I have to wonder if it is healthy.  Yes, we all need a good butt kickin from time to time, but need we dwell on our *image* so much?

Incidentally, that little word–image–is one reason why I think this trend is potentially unhealthy and askew.  The majority of the focus centers on what others think of us.  A good part of the movie, for instance, was showing the average person’s reaction to the question “what do you think about Christians?”  All the answers were something like “narrow-minded, intolerant, stuffy, judgemental, condemning” etc.  Then the narrator asked them, “what do you think about Jesus?” and the answers were, “loving, forgiving, caring,” etc.  The conclusion we were supposed to reach was obvious.

An aside: to me, those interviews were meaningless.  What if the narrator were to take out the Bible and read from Luke 9: 23-27, Luke 13: 22-30,  or Revelation 19?  Would they have such rosy words for THAT Jesus?  The Jesus they showered such praise on was a Jesus made in their own image, not the Jesus of history and Scripture.

Its as if whenever someone says that about Christians–in other words, whenever someone is *offended* at what we say and do–we’re automatically in the wrong.  Yes, sometimes we are in the wrong, but this seems more of a knee-jerk reaction than anything else to me.  As one author has said, “the gospel is offensive.  Don’t add any offense to it, but don’t remove any offense that is already there.”

There is one scene in the movie where the narrator takes a cue from Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz and sets up a “confession booth” at a gay pride event.  The catch is that those at the event aren’t the ones confessing: Dan himself confesses and apologizes for the wrongs Christians have done to gays and lesbians.  He also apologizes for things he’s done, such as making gay jokes.

It was a novel idea, and it seemed like it got a positive response.  Those watching the movie lauded the act as something incredibly courageous.  I recognize that for some, apologizing comes hard.  Not for everyone, though.  After the event, my wife commented that for her, apologizing would be much, much easier than saying tough, yet loving words that someone might not want to hear.  Why?  The former would most likely gain her the good thoughts of others, whereas the latter might get her rejected. 

I am not saying that it would have been appropriate for Dan to instead get up on a soapbox and read Romans 1.  In that atmosphere, best to leave that one be.  It’s just that I don’t know why everyone acts like moral disapproval, tough words about sin, etc are easy!  Relatively few are going to reject you for doing things like giving out cups of water, saying “Jesus loves you,” and apologizing for past hurts…and those things are all the rage these days.  Not that we shouldn’t do all that, but people like that stuff…they don’t like to hear that the path they have autonomously chosen is the path of destruction and rebellion.  For Christians who want to be well liked (read: most of us), that makes it very tempting to cheer the nice stuff but shun the tough stuff.

I take it that we’re supposed to think that judging and condemning are bad things, and Christians should avoid them.  At one point, Dan chides the church for turning the “gospel of love” into the “gospel of being right.”  Love through your actions and use less words was the not-so-subtle message.  “We’re all out of words,” as one commentator put it.  The ‘ol phrase from St. Francis “preach the gospel at all times; use words when necessary,” was bandied about (incidentally, St. Francis probably never said this.  The guy was an evangelizing, fire-and-brimstone machine.  The American church simply would not tolerate him today.  It is more likely that the quote is a product of a sentimentalized, neutered, postmodern version of St. Francis. ).

The only way this image will improve significantly is if we focus on only grace, at the expense of truth.  As long as Christians stay faithful to the biblical witness and the gospel, the world will continue to think we’re judgmental and all that stuff.  Even if we are completely humble and loving, we can’t stay faithful to Christ and shed that image.  As much as we’d like to forget it, talk of sin, God’s judgment, and condemnation of false beliefs are all over the Bible.  Jesus thought He was right…that kinda comes along with the territory of claiming to be God, and for Christians who faithfully follow Christ, pointing to the “narrow road” also comes with the territory.  Very hard to “Jeffersonize” those things out.  In fact, the gospel doesn’t make sense apart from all that; why would Jesus die a horrendous death on a Roman torture device just to tell us that He loves us and that God has a wonderful plan for our lives?  If there are more ways to God than through Jesus, why did Jesus have to die?  The cross is more than just an example of God’s love; it is an objective cure to an actual spiritual/moral disease called sin.  Take that out and the Christian faith is plain silliness.

Yes.  We can love better (love sometimes requires tough words to be spoken–ever thought of that?  Anyway); but we should just get used to our image being less than what we desire.  A PR campaign will be the cure that kills the patient.

And on that phrase above: “we’re all out of words.”  Really?  Not even close.  Read the book of Acts.  Actions of service are a large part of that book, but do you know what is an even larger part?  Good ‘ol straightforward proclamation.  I sometimes get tired of saying this: it is not an either/or thing, but a both/and.  The Church has excelled in the past on acts of service and proclamation, and we should continue to excel in both.  The siren call of a better image should not sway us. 

It is natural to want to be well-liked.  But lets not let the tail wag the dog here.

And even though I share Dan’s concern with the polarized nature of political discourse, the one thing that is *not* a solution to that is for Christians to back out of the debates.  Though he never said it verbatim, I get the feeling that he’d be ok with us just packing our bags, getting out of politics, and just doing simple service.  Even if I misread him and he would not advocate that sort of response, I know plenty of Christians who would like nothing more than for us to get out of politics completely. 

At the very least, politics and the discourse that comes along with it is seen as a less spiritual enterprise.

I am all for a more civil debate, but silence is not an option, whether it be abortion, embryonic stem cell research, same sex marriage, big government vs. small government, etc, for that would leave others vulnerable to false and harmful ideas.  Those who have opposing ideas will keep on plugging their ideas and policies, and unopposed, those ideas will wreak incredible havoc.

Think of it this way: the last few years have seen the rise of strong and loving Christians entering the legal and political battles in foreign countries on efforts such as sex trafficking and child abuse.    Many have fought tirelessly in courts and legislatures to ensure vulnerable women and children are protected by law.  These legal and political battles can sometimes be nasty and intense.  Would we even think about advising these folks to back away from political discourse and simply “love others with actions?”  The thought is crazy, for we recognize the stakes. 

It is no different here.

I frequently bring up these themes on this blog.  I really don’t want to be that guy.  It’s just that this “either/or” message gets preached a lot, and people simply eat it up.  Every time I hear the so-called St. Francis quote said in church, it is followed by so many “mmmms,” and “amens.”  We don’t really have to put one or the other (words/actions without words) on the backburner…nor should we, biblically. I’m attempting to bring some balance to the discussion.  I heartily applaud Merchant’s exhortation to talk with non-believers, not at them, but we should be careful that we don’t “throw the baby out with the bathwater” and let the pendulum swing to the opposite end.  There is room for both grace and truth, and love sometimes means risking rejection by saying tough….words.

Clarification

A few folks commented on my last post both inside and outside the blog, and I feel a clarification is in order.  I recognize that not everyone wants to have spiritual conversations with folks they don’t know. My point in the post was that Christians should not make a hard and fast rule the other way: assuming that you *always* have to build a relationship first, so you miss opportunities to enrich another’s life because you are stuck with a prior agenda (namely, “always build relationship first before talking about Christ.”).

Building relationships are great. Necessary. But not always. In the post, I was trying to get people to realize its not an either/or. Some are open to conversations without prior relationship, some not. Now, for Christians, what’s the worst that could happen?  They reject you.  That’s it. If I broach the subject with someone I don’t really know and they don’t want to talk (read body language, their initial response, etc), I move on. No reason to bug ‘em.

Keep in mind the ultimate motivation:  the gospel isn’t a mere choice along a smorgasboard of others that we choose according to our liking or felt need.  The message of Christ is true, in the fullest, objective sense of the word.  Everyone, regardless of economic status, belief, race, etc, will find themselves under the gavel of God’s justice one day because everyone has rebelled.  As C.S Lewis once put it, we are all “rebels in arms” against God.  God, in His mercy, has given us the opportunity for clemency, but since He’s the one we’ve offended, forgiveness is on His terms, not ours, and His terms are forgiveness through Christ.  This is true regardless of what anyone feels or desires, and if we love others, we’ll tell them this and give them the opportunity to turn.

If I had diabetes and a doctor, who knew it, had the opportunity to inform me and failed to do so, I would consider him negligent and unprofessional.  The same principle is at play here.

False Expectations

When I was in college, I attended a Campus Crusade retreat where the speaker told a conversion story that has stuck with me in the 10 years since.  Once he gave his life to Christ as a college student, he came home and eagerly told his parents and friends the story.  He thought they’d be happy at his changed life, his newfound guilt-free conscience, and the fruits of forgiveness, but they reacted just the opposite.

After he told his family, for example, his mom and dad went into the next room, and Cox overheard his dad say, “he has finally flipped his lid.  We’re going to have to send him to somebody to get checked out.”

Undettered, he went to the bars he used to frequent and likewise told his friends about Christ and the forgiveness He offers.  They reacted in much the same way; he was ostracized and was removed from six weddings (he was supposed to be a groomsman in all six).

After all this, one night he was in his bedroom, overhearing the rest of the family in the living room talk about him.  He got down on his knees and prayed to God, “Father, if all this about you and Jesus is so true, why am I going through this?  Why am I losing all my friends and everything?”

A voice came to him: “I want to see if you mean business.”

I don’t know what the guy is doing today; I haven’t heard him speak in years, but I’ve never been able to shake that story.  It really brings home how we tend to question God’s goodness and sovereignty if He doesn’t meet our expectations.  Whenever God doesn’t come through in ways we think He should, we tend to question Him.

In those instances, it is not Him that is false, it’s our expectations.  He is still on the throne.

Christians are Narrow-Minded

…I’ve had to field that one a few times, to say the least.  Here’s what Brett Kunkle had to say about it:

We’re all Blind, but let me Tell you What the World is Really Like

**I borrow the title from Greg Koukl

I never thought it would be so hard to get someone to say I’m wrong. Even with the most agreeable people it’s pretty easy: just say something controversial or charged that you know they’ll have a problem with. They’ll cry foul quite easily.

Not so in a conversation I had today. The folks I was chatting with didn’t see it my way, but getting them to actually admit they thought I was in error was like nailing the proverbial jello to a wall.

I guess I should clarify: they thought I was wrong, no doubt, but it was quite difficult to get them to actually own up to that. For the record, I was perfectly at ease with their corrections. I was not perturbed in the least that they were disagreeing with me. I simply wanted them to admit it.

First, the context: two days ago, both myself and a group of colleagues at my school took a lunch to view a “Faith Under Fire” TV debate between Greg Koukl and Deepak Chopra on “the future of faith.” Koukl is a Christian, while Chopra…well, I don’t know what I would call Chopra. New Age mystic? Perhaps. Hindu? A little, but would he agree with that label? Who knows. Suffice it to say, while there was some common ground between the two, they disagreed at a very fundamental worldview level.

Friday, we met again to discuss our thoughts about the debate. The somewhat odd conversation I described above happened amidst that discussion.

Most everyone there, I think, were put off by Koukl’s mannerisms. He seemed too aggressive to them. They didn’t like how he interrupted and dominated the discussion. While I didn’t see it that way ultimately (I caught a slight air of smugness and passive-aggressiveness from Chopra, and I was put off by that instead), I could see why they’d think that: to some, Koukl comes off that way sometimes.

Though I could see their perspective, I was more interested in discussing the content of each man’s claims. This is when things got interesting.

Conversation soon centered around notions of tolerance and subjective vs objective truth. One teacher took exception with Koukl’s desire to claim to be right: many people have different beliefs. For some, Christianity is true for them, but for others, not so much.

What is ironic is that the portion of the debate we didn’t watch addressed that issue precisely. Chopra made the same claim: many people have different beliefs, so who is to say? Koukl responded by pointing out a non-sequitur in Chopra’s argument: just because there are many different beliefs, it doesn’t follow that no one is right, it doesn’t follow that we can’t know who is right, and it doesn’t follow that no one can have solid reasons and evidence for the truth of his views.

My response to the “true for them” claim: I don’t even know what that means. What does it even mean to say God exists “for me” but not “for you?” Does God suddenly pop into existence when I’m thinking, but pop out of existence when an atheist thinks?

My colleague responded by claiming that we’re talking about subjective, personal beliefs: no one can have any evidence for his beliefs being true.

This struck me as a very odd thing to say. How could he claim that with any amount of confidence whatsoever? Had he thoroughly investigated all the possibilities out there? To have confidence in that assertion, he’d need to have an almost “God’s eyeview” grasp of the nature of things. In other words, it would require an astounding amount of knowledge and insight to make such a claim as that. At a bare minimum, he would have to have thoroughly and exhaustively investigated my worldview and the supposed evidences I offer. He hasn’t done this yet to date. I haven’t even given him one single piece of anything I call ‘evidence’…in our conversations so far, he has merely asserted confident skepticism that it’s even possible for me.

He could very reasonably say, “I haven’t encountered any solid evidence yet,” or something like that, but that is quite different from saying I can’t know, no one can know, and having evidence isn’t possible.

In addition, the law of excluded middle and the law of non-contradiction applies here: God either exists or he doesn’t. Both can’t be true, and both can’t be false.  When I say God exists, I am making a statement not about my personal tastes and preferences, but I am making a claim about the world, namely, that there is some being/thing/person called “God” that exists in the world (same goes for a person who says God doesn’t exist). When I go on to describe him/her/it, I’m making more claims in the same vein. Given this, God either exists or not…period. I’m not talking about my taste in food here.

My colleague still disagreed. He thought I was making a dichotomy, and dichotomies in matters of religion are not reasonable.

Later after the conversation, my wife reflected: “do pluralists (like some of my colleagues) actually believe God really exists?” It is a good question: if yes, that negates their pluralism–those that believe God actually doesn’t exist are wrong. If no–if belief in God is simply a way to make oneself happy–that negates their pluralism. Those that believe God truly exists in the real world are wrong. In addition, the pluralist in that case is simply a closet atheist: he believes God really doesn’t exist in reality. God is a figment of imagination in the minds of the faithful; that is the only sense in which He exists to these pluralists.

He also took umbrage at the name of the program we watched: “why does faith need to be under fire? Why debate these sorts of things?”

The reason, as Koukl said, is that ideas have consequences. “Reality has a way of bruising those who don’t take it seriously,” Koukl noted. If Chopra is right, Koukl (and myself, by extension) is missing out on peace, love, tolerance, and harmony. If Koukl is right, then there are grave consequences–pun intended–in the next life for Chopra. I agree. Afterall, if we are only talking about our individual beliefs and preferences, why sit through all that? If we are only talking about our prefereneces and aren’t talking about reality, I’m not interested…lets talk about how to get a pay raise or how to teach better. Only if my colleagues actually have insight into the real world, only if they might possibly possess the real truth that I lack, is it worthwhile to listen. If what I believe is “true for me” and it works for me, why listen to others who think differently than I?

When the discussion moved onto tolerance and intolerance, I tried to point that out. Some teachers thought Koukl was out of line for thinking he’s right (another irony, since Koukl addressed this at length) and he was intolerant for saying Chopra is wrong. One thought Koukl *ought to have been* more tolerant. “People who think they are right have caused religious wars and conflicts,” she continued.

This made me wonder if the combative nature of the debate (which some people have a hard time with in matters of personal beliefs) made the actual content and claims of the speakers fly right past them. Koukl pointed out several times that it’s not thinking you’re right that causes division, war, and such–it’s the specific content of the beliefs you think are right.

MLK jr thought he was right. He confidently believed that the way of racial equality was more humane than the way of the KKK and Jim Crow South. Our world is a better place because of his confidence.

The teacher in question didn’t realize that she was in the same boat as Koukl. Though she insisted she was just stating her beliefs, her words went past that. Anytime someone says words like “should,” or “ought,” s/he is making moral judgments and corrections. She thought tolerance is a real moral good and intolerance a real moral vice. Why else would she object to Koukl’s behavior and say he “should” have been more tolerant?

Why is someone intolerant just for thinking he’s right and I’m wrong? People say I’m wrong all the time–doesn’t bother me one bit. Why should it? Perhaps they have a point. Maybe I really am incorrect and they have it right. Furthermore, I don’t think anyone can avoid this.

Even Chopra ran into this. At one point in the discussion, Koukl called God a “He.” Chopra quickly corrected him: “you are conceptualizing God in a male way by calling God a ‘he.’” I don’t think he was simply pointing out Koukl’s beliefs. He was correcting him. When you correct someone, that entails you think he’s wrong or he’s made a misstep somehow.

Time and time again, Chopra subtly corrected Koukl’s understanding. Even when he simply asked questions, he was not asking questions just to gain information, as if he only wanted to know what Koukl believed. His questions had a point to them. For example, at one juncture, he asked, “Do you think that those who don’t believe as you do are damned to hell?” This was no innocent question. That was and is a completely legitimate way of discussion; what was out of bounds is that he said things like that, but when Koukl noted that Chopra was claiming to be right (therefore he was in the same boat as Koukl and every other human being on the planet), Chopra backtracked and denied he was trying to correct Koukl.

This was quite passive-aggressive, coming from someone who regularly characterizes folks like Koukl as dogmatic and narrow-minded. He has even said that the types of things Koukl believes (namely, religious exclusivism–the belief that one’s worldview is the only right way) has caused wars and division. If that isn’t correction, if that isn’t saying, “you’re wrong,” then what are we to make of that?

A few teachers in the discussion agreed with Chopra, and it was so hard to get them to recognize that if that is the definition of intolerance (claiming you are right and others who disagree are wrong), then they, too, were intolerant. What that means isn’t that they really are intolerant…it just means we should drop the questionable notion of intolerance: we all think we’ve got it right at some juncture, that’s ok, so lets not get worked up about it. Let’s instead spend our time listening to one another’s reasons for their beliefs and pondering the possibility that someone in the discussion has insight to the truth. At one point, I said the following:

“I believe in hell, and that people who don’t bend the knee to Jesus are going there. Am I wrong?”

Answer: “maybe. I don’t know.”

Another one: “a few times throughout the discussion I’ve said that you think you are right. Have I misunderstood you?”

Answer: “perhaps. I don’t know. Maybe.”

This came from a person who, just a few minutes before, had objected to my statements that he thought he was right. He also had taken umbrage at dichotomies and categorical statements…both of which I was making. Even if he was only describing his beliefs to me, if he didn’t think them true, why say them in the first place?

I thought afterwards how I could have made this point better. Here is one:

Me: “what was it you said about intolerance causing warfare? (or “what was it you said about dichotomies and categorical statements?” The specific view in question isn’t important)?”

Colleague: “Yes. Historically it has been those who think they’re right and everyone else is wrong who have caused all the conflict and division.”

Me: “do you think that is true?”

Colleague: “Yes.” (How could she say otherwise if she uttered it?)

Me: “I disagree. My religion claims otherwise. All the warfare has been caused by people like Chopra. Am I wrong?”

Colleague: “Well, that’s true for you.”

Me: “No, I’m not saying it’s just true for me. I’m saying that my view, which contradicts yours, is actually so. It’s not just true for me. It’s just true period. Am I wrong?”

Where could my fellow teacher go from here without hoisting herself on her own petard? Though the above scenario doesn’t reflect my true beliefs 100%, it makes my point.


Earlier she said “no one can know the truth about God.  We won’t find out until after we are dead.”  What she missed is that this is a statement about God.  Does she know that or is it just a personal belief?  If the latter, then I can safely disregard it, just like I can disregard those who really like mustard or ketchup (I have an extreme distaste for both).  If the former, then she’s just said something like: “we’re all blind, but let me tell you what the world is really like.”

Here’s another:

“Hypothetical scenario: say I come along to you and claim with confidence: ‘My religion declares that homosexuals are damned, so it is ok to discriminate against them and beat them up…I know this to be true.’ What would you say to me?”

(For the record, this also doesn’t accurately reflect my beliefs…it is only a hypothetical used to prove a point). I don’t know how my colleagues would respond, but recognize the choices are limited, and some are rather unsavory.

If they seek to correct me at all, they have just done what they reprimanded Koukl for. Even if they express skepticism–”how could you know something like that?”–it is a challenge tantamount to calling my supposed knowledge into question.

This is kinda like sawing off the branch you are sitting on….not a good option.

If they say something like, “while I don’t believe like you, that is true for you,” they have tried to change my statement into something it’s not. In both scenarios, I’m not just expressing a personal belief–I am making a knowledge claim. Furthermore, they’ve expressed ambivalence to something that–at least in the latter hypothetical–is obviously and incredibly wrong. Doing what they should do–namely, condemn the belief–puts them right back in the position of sawing at that ‘ol branch.

If they say, “I don’t know if you are right or wrong. We’ll never know until we die,”–this is what one teacher asserted early on in matters of religion–then, they have just jumped the shark. I guess at this point I could steal her cell phone and claim my religion commands it. She’d probably object. I think that would end it right there.

The fact of the matter is that there are many religious beliefs that are wrong, and we know this. Some religious points of view claim blacks are inferior to whites. Others claim it’s ok to corral unbelievers and lop off their heads for dissenting. Still other religious points of view claim to know that conquest, wanton, murderous warfare, and burning heretics at the stake are perfectly acceptable ways of persuasion. Are we to say that we can’t know whether or not they are wrong? Answering yes might allow someone to hold onto his skepticism, but he sacrifices so much more–to paraphrase Bill Craig, he sacrifices his humanity.

It doesn’t matter that those who embrace such racism and wickedness might believe as fervently as I. Sincerity says nothing about the truth of a belief.

Let’s say that one of my colleagues reads this post and writes a comment. No matter what the comment is, it’s good for me. If he says I understood him correctly, then I’m right at that point–he was correcting me and Koukl, which places him squarely in my (and Koukl’s) boat. If he takes exception with my characterization of him (hey, some of the details are a bit fuzzy…not an outlandish thought), then I’m right–he is correcting me, which places him squarely in my boat.

Could I be wrong?  Of course I could be mistaken in my beliefs.  I invite anyone to come along and give me evidence.  Just asserting otherwise by changing my statements into something they are not (relative personal, subjective beliefs) or asserting that I’m intolerant for thinking I’m right (name calling) won’t do the trick.

Powerless Pulpits

Preach it:

Quote of the Day

“Saying ‘Preach the gospel, and if necessary, use words’ is like saying ‘tell me your phone number, and if necessary, use digits’ “~ J.D. Greear

I got into a bit of a row on Facebook about this one on Sunday.  St. Francis’ saying (“preach the gospel at all times.  If necessary, use words), is quite popular today.  Regardless of what St. Francis meant by it, many today use it to subtly drive a wedge between words and actions.  An undercurrent of the quote is that words aren’t necessary to “preach” the gospel.  Some pastors even use it to quietly discourage their congregation from sharing the gospel message with proclamation and discussion.  This, however, is neither biblical nor practical.

Think about it: did Jesus, the apostles, John the Baptist, the Church Fathers, or any New Testament or early church player live by this mantra?  One glance at the Bible and church history will tell you “no!”  They all used both in tandem, and they used them often.  What’s more, they took the initiative.  They didn’t keep silent for months and years and wait for someone to say “hey, there’s something different about you.”  They were up front and vocal about the saving message, in addition to doing good works.

Practically speaking, most folks, whether they go to church or not, aren’t going to “hear” the gospel just from your actions–if we define “action” as it is defined through the common modern-day interpretation of the St. Francis quote. If you just “live out the gospel with action” like that–say, you serve at a soup kitchen, do an AIDS walk, volunteer your time for troubled youth, etc–folks are more likely to think you are a Mormon than a Christian. Most Mormon folks I know are just that way–very nice, incredibly moral and loving, but not too keen on talking about Jesus/religion/spirituality with non-Mormons…they aren’t even that keen on talking about Joseph Smith (unless they are on their mission).

In short, “how will they *hear*, without someone *preaching* to them?” I know the word “preaching” is a 4 letter word today, but so what? Some might insist that you can preach or proclaim without words, but let’s get real.  Don’t even try to water down the meaning of that term to make it sound like doing social good works *alone* (key word…I’m not bashing on good works) is preaching.

Others will misconstrue my point by responding, “if you don’t back up your words with actions, your words are meaningless.”  This is true, but my point isn’t that actions aren’t necessary–they are. All those examples I gave above are excellent, God-honoring, and praiseworthy.  My point is that words are equally as necessary. One ought not split the two, and that’s what many try to do with St. Francis’ words.  Saying that words and actions are both important really shouldn’t be that controversial, but for some reason, it is so hard for many folks to simply admit.