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On January 1, 2021 By In Church, Culture

“Should Churches Meet During COVID-19?”, Part 1

By Joel Nelson, Guest Series

Introduction

The one-two punch of the global COVID-19 outbreak will result in the year 2020 being remembered as one of the most divisive and life-changing years in at least two generations. Old customs and established procedures slipped away in a matter of days in March 2020, and only eight months later seem almost entirely forgotten by some. Many seem to welcome these developments, viewing the dismantling of what once existed as a blank slate for construction of a new world order. The use of the word “unprecedented” to justify all manner of societal changes and suspension of long-held legal and sociopolitical traditions in the year 2020, is, for lack of a better word, unprecedented. The response of many churches during the last eight months largely mirrors the rest of society: either a complete shutdown and move to “virtual” meetings reliant on electronic devices and high-speed Internet connections, or implementation of measures such as so-called “social distancing” and mandatory imposition of face coverings (the vast majority of which, aside from some medical-grade N95 respirators, have little ability to filter viral particles which are measured in nanometers). The purpose of this essay is not to critique these changes on political or medical grounds, but rather to address the church’s response to government edicts and orders. Specific consideration will be given to the mission and witness of the church, present and historical, and the challenges imposed by government edicts and orders.

Historical Accounts

This essay will first consider several historical accounts of how Christians have responded to prior plagues and pandemics. The historical record reveals many instances in which, during past plagues (with a death toll much greater than that of COVID-19), the church stood out for its resolve to keep going about her mission even as societies effectively shut down. The church historian Eusebius cited a letter written by Dionysius, Bishop of Alexandria, regarding the witness of Christians in contrast to pagans during a fifteen-year plague in the third century:

“Many terrible things happened to us also before this. At first we were driven out, persecuted, and killed, but we kept our festival even then… But the brightest festival of all was kept by the fulfilled martyrs, who feasted in heaven… Most of our brethren showed love and loyalty in not sparing themselves while helping one another, tending to the sick with no thought of danger and gladly departing this life with them after becoming infected with their disease… The best of our own brothers lost their lives in this way—some presbyters, deacons, and laymen—a form of death based on strong faith and piety that seems in every way equal to martyrdom. They would also take up the bodies of the saints, close their eyes, shut their mouths, and carry them on their shoulders. They would embrace them, wash and dress them in burial clothes, and soon receive the same services themselves.  The heathen were the exact opposite. They pushed away those with the first signs of the disease and fled from their dearest. They even threw them half dead into the roads and treated unburied corpses like refuse in hopes of avoiding the plague of death, which, for all their efforts, was difficult to escape.”

In the middle and latter part of the sixth century, plague broke out in the Frankish Empire and had an estimated death toll of nearly 1 in 3 cases. It was significant enough to postpone the Festival of the Presentation in the year A.D. 543 by four months. Subsequent outbreaks continued for more than fifty years. Yet historian R. A. Markus observed that in writings preserved from that time, such as those of Evagrius and Gregory of Tours, there is no evidence of deep spiritual crisis among church leaders. Despite panic, famine, rioting, and political upheaval, there is little evidence that the mission of the church was changed or drastically transformed. Ministry went on and opportunities for evangelism increased.

In A.D. 591, the second year of the papacy of Gregory the Great, Gregory urged bishops to use the opportunity afforded by the plague to admonish and exhort pagans to convert, stating that “the closer the last judgment, the more we must fear the strict Judge.” Despite the plague having been present for nearly fifty years, this is a rare mention in Gregory’s writings. The plague did not bring ministry and evangelism to a halt—the shepherds continued shepherding their flocks.

In A.D. 1348, the plague arrived in Europe. Cycles of widespread death from the plague would persist for more than three hundred years. Although understanding of contagion was in its infancy at the time and various local councils did at times attempt separation or isolation methods— whether separating the sick from the healthy or closing city gates— there was no method to gain completely the upper hand over the spread of disease. The shadow of death hung over civilizations for generations upon generations. Europe during this time has been described by Philip McNair as a “death-oriented society.” This would have set a particular context for ministry, but as in Gregory’s time, it did not result in widespread suspension of pastoral duties.

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On December 23, 2020 By In Culture

The Danger of Servant-Leadership

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Guest Series from Pastor Rich Lusk

The conversation over masculinity also has implications for how we understand the “servant leader” model of leadership in the home. Servant-leadership, as commonly understood in evangelical circles, has taken quite a beating in recent years, and rightfully so. Obviously, the servant leadership model is biblical because it derives from Jesus: he said the first shall be last; he is the Son of Man ( = New Adam), possessing authority, but he came among us to serve; he said the greatest of all is the one who becomes slave of all; he was exalted because he humbled himself and promises the same pattern to us; he stooped to wash the disciples feet even though he was Lord over them all. But the “servant leadership” model is all too easily twisted, and this has become the Achilles’ heel of complementarianism.

The real problem is that complementarianism has produced a lot of beta “nice guys” who think the way to get what they want is by giving others what they want. It’s what Robert Glover calls a “covert contract.” You see it in the Al Mohler quote Aaron Renn has called attention to when describing a man’s sexual relationship with his wife: Mohler suggests the man qualifies himself for sex and will (presumably) get the sex he desires by becoming what he thinks his wife wants. But I have done enough marriage counseling to know it does not work that way. A man who makes himself subservient is not going to faithfully execute the office of husband, and he is not going to win the respect of his wife over the long haul. A wife does not need or want her husband to be a “Yes man” to her. She needs him to lead her.

This is the real issue with “servant leadership.” Under this model, anytime a husband does not let the wife have her way, he can be accused of failing to serve her. And so practically, the marriage becomes no different from an egalitarian or feminist marriage where the woman runs the show. The man is only “allowed” to use his authority in ways that have his wife’s permission, whether explicit or implicit. He is only “allowed” to use his authority in ways his wife approves of which means he has no real authority at all. Instead, her emotions and felt needs come to rule the marriage. If the husband and wife disagree, the only way forward is for him to give in because otherwise, he would become a tyrannical patriarch, forcing his own will on her rather than serving her. Jesus would (presumably) give the wife what she wants, so the husband should too. If Jesus died for his bride, how can any husband refuse to give his wife what she desires? How can he say “No, honey, we’re not going to do that,” when he is supposed to serve her? Thus, “servant leadership” morphs into subservience; the head becomes the helper and the helper the head. This is Satanic role reversal accomplished in the name of Scripture. It is overthrowing the marriage’s built-in authority structure, which leads to chaos and confusion.

Feminists will never give in to their husbands because to do so is to allow herself to be controlled by him and that’s the one thing she cannot allow; thus she will continue to defy her husband in order to prove she is a real feminist. But the complementarian wife can get the same result by telling her husband, “You’re not serving me like Jesus. How can I follow you as my leader unless you serve me?” And thus the beat of the gynocentric order goes on. Basically, the “servant leader” model becomes a way for a wife to exercise control over her husband since he can be accused of tyranny or being self-serving any time he does not go along with her wishes. The “servant leader” model all too easily allows her to exercise veto power over anything he wants to do because she can shame him for not being the servant she’s been led to expect and thinks she deserves. She can play the “Jesus card” anytime she wants to trump her husband.

The problem, of course, is this is NOT how Jesus serves his church and so it is NOT what “servant-leadership” should be taken to mean. When Jesus died for his bride, he was not responding to a felt need. He was certainly not letting the bride determine the shape of his mission. In the Gospels, Jesus always leads the way and the disciples follow behind; they do not always even know or understand where he is taking them, but he keeps leading (cf. Mark 9-10). Or consider the picture in Revelation 19, with Jesus out in front, his disciples following in his train as he rides into battle. While Jesus serves his bride, and does allow her to give counsel (prayer), he never asks her permission to do anything and she always has to submit to him even when he does something contrary to her wishes. In other words, he serves her by ruling her. In the complementarian view, the man leads by serving — which means he does not really lead at all; in the gospel (patriarchal) view, the man serves by leading — his leadership is actually a form of service. The complementarian husband all too easily becomes a figurehead rather than a functioning head, and in that way, he actually fails to be like Jesus.

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On December 16, 2020 By In Culture

How Resurrection Theology Shapes Our View of Masculinity

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Guest Series from Pastor Rich Lusk

Unfortunately, too many accounts of Jesus’ manhood stop with the cross. Podles has pointed out this is a uniquely Western problem. The Eastern church tends to focus much more on the risen Christ. This Western version of Jesus stuck on the cross truncates our understanding of what he has done and who he is; it certainly truncates the lessons about manhood we can glean from his example. This truncation bleeds over into teaching on marriage when Ephesians 5:21ff is used to teach husbands that loving their wives like Christ loves the church means always giving her her way, keeping her happy at all times, and so forth. Instead of the strong, transformative, efficacious love of Christ as the model, we have a weak, effeminate love. If we reduce Christ’s love to what he did on the cross — and then we think of the cross primarily in passive terms — we can actually turn a husband’s headship into its opposite. The head becomes the helper. The wife’s felt needs become the measure of the husband’s faithfulness. The wife’s emotional state actually becomes the highest authority in the home. The man who should be a Christ-figure becomes a simp. But Jesus is not a simp.

The missing element here, as in so much of Western theology is the resurrection. Years ago during the so-called “Federal Vision” controversy, I was astounded at how many Presbyterian and Reformed theologians basically had no place in their theology for the resurrection. They affirmed it as a historical fact. They affirmed its importance, but they did not ascribe any special soteriological significance to it. Everything terminated on the cross. But, to paraphrase Paul in 1 Corinthians 15, a dead Christ cannot save and neither can a dead Christ provide us with the model of manhood we need. For these, we must look to the resurrection.

Christ’s resurrection is his justification/vindication — and therefore it is our justification/vindication as well. Christ’s resurrection is the inauguration of the new creation. We share in his resurrection life and that new creation even now, though more is still to come in the future. And finally, in the resurrection, Christ fulfills his commission as the New Adam, the Last Adam, the one who has total dominion over heaven and earth. As the risen one, he is King of kings and Lord of lords. As the risen one, he promises to bring judgment on his enemies. Indeed, in 70 AD he uses the might of Rome to destroy the primary persecutor his bride, the unbelieving Jewish people, an act of justified vengeance and violence that he prophesied many times during his earthly ministry (e.g., Matthew 23-24). The risen Christ kicks enemies and takes names.

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On December 8, 2020 By In Counseling/Piety, Culture, Discipleship

Jesus’ Manhood as Fulfillment of Psalm 128, part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Guest Series from Pastor Rich Lusk

How does the blessed man in Psalm 128 relate to Jesus? Since Jesus must be our measure of manhood, do we see him reflected in the blessed man of Psalm 128? Or does Jesus give us an altogether different view of manhood and masculinity?

At first glance, it may seem that Jesus and the blessed man of Psalm 128 have little in common. Jesus remained single and childless; the blessed man is married with kids, and, ultimately, grandkids. Jesus never had a place to lay his head; the blessed man seems quite prosperous, with a table, food, and a home of his own. Finally, in the climax of his earthly ministry, Jesus seems to be weak and helpless as he is crucified; meanwhile, the blessed man seems strong, competent, confident, and prosperous. In one sense, Jesus lacks the status the blessed man possesses. The blessed man seems decidedly more manly, while Jesus looks weak and unattractive.

But perhaps the contrast is not so great. After all, Jesus does take a bride — the church. Through her, he raises up children — new believers. In the resurrection, Jesus is made Lord of lords and King of kings. All authority, power, and status belong to him. He now has a table over which he presides — the Eucharist — and there he feeds his family the fruit of his labors. The risen Christ has everything the blessed man has, and more. He becomes The Dominion Man — the man who rules over the very earth from which man was made. And indeed, when we look closely at the gospel accounts, we find that even when Jesus was put on trial and then taken away to be crucified, he remained in complete control of the situation. Jesus’ life was not taken from him; he laid it down. He did not die against his will, but willingly, enduring the shame for the joy set before him. He died because it was necessary to fulfill his Father’s plan. He goes to the cross like a warrior who willingly volunteers to die that others may live. But such an act reveals true strength. Indeed, it transforms our understanding of strength — and therefore of masculinity.

On the cross, Jesus might look like the epitome of weakness, a failed man, and a failed messiah. But in reality, he is acting in infinite strength to save the world. The cross is actually his coronation. He is “lifted up ” — exalted, enthroned — on the tree so that he might draw his bride to himself, a bride that will be formed out the blood and water flowing from his side. In the same moment, he is dying at the “Place of the Skull, he is crushing the skull of the serpent under his feet. He shows us a new kind of manhood, one hinted at before but now foregrounded — a man defined by self-giving and sacrificial love, a man who lays down his life to protect and provide, and a man who looks foolish though he embodies infinite wisdom. This man seems weak even as he conquers the world in love, a man who rules through service and who ushers in his kingdom through a cross.

It is very clear particularly in the gospel of John that Jesus is actually in control of all the proceedings from his arrest to his death. He is not a helpless victim but a powerful victor, making certain events unfold according to plan (the fulfilled prophecies along the way underscore that everything in unfolding according to a script). The details in John’s account affirm he is the Sovereign Sufferer.

When Pilate said, “Behold the man,” he was speaking more truly than he knew. This is The Man — the true man, showing true manliness. In a twist of irony, we find this is what blessed manhood really looks like — a man giving all he has for the sake of his bride, a man laying down his life to save his friends, a man losing his life that he may find greater and more glorious life on the other side.

In Mark 15, just as he dies, the Roman centurion confesses him as Son of God, which is a royal title. So far from seeing him as unmasculine because of how he died, the centurion confesses him to be the model man, a ruling man. The cross really is an enthronement and an act of power. No, not everyone saw it that way; not all are given eyes to see. But Jesus was clearly sovereign over his death and even the very moment of his death. He only died when he chose to give up his Spirit. The centurion, who no doubt had seen many crucifixions, had never seen anyone die in this way. It was the ultimate strength amid utter weakness. It was strength disguised as weakness.

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On December 6, 2020 By In Culture, Theology, Worship

Devouring Houses

Whenever we see a powerful person using his power to abuse the weak in any way, something goes off in us. There is a great sense of anger at the injustice of it. The big kid on the playground bullying the weakling, the husband abusing his wife, or the parent beating his child raises our righteous ire. We know innately that this isn’t right. Powerful people ought not to be using their power to pummel the weak.

But why? If we actually lived in a universe in which evolution was a reality, these sorts of actions would make sense. The strong survive. The weak do not. Sometimes the strong must eliminate the weak in order to survive because of the scarcity of resources, to eliminate threats, or to demonstrate to others what will happen if they are challenged.

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On December 4, 2020 By In Culture

Jesus: The Model of Manhood

Guest Series by Rich Lusk

Part 1

We can also see masculinity if we look at the ultimate model of manhood in the Christian religion, Jesus Christ. The Jesus we meet in the gospels confirms the view of manhood we have already seen, but adds some important elements that serve to deepen, enrich, and transform our understanding of manhood. A good survey of Jesus’ masculinity can be found in Leon Podles’ recent book, Losing the Good Portion; I highly recommend at least reading chapters 1-2, which give an overview of masculinity and challenge feminized/effeminate pictures of Jesus (both literal and figurative).

Jesus does many prototypically manly things during his ministry. He protects women — though surprisingly he also relies on women to help support his itinerant ministry. He wins status contests with other males — especially as he schools the Sadducees and Pharisees in theological debate. He powerfully exercises dominion — early in life presumably as a carpenter like his father, but then in a greater way during his ministry in miraculous healings and exorcisms. When he is wrongfully arrested and falsely accused, he does not defend himself, as a pagan man might have done, but allows himself to be carried away to trial and then to the cross. Of course, he does this because dying on the cross was his mission — and pagans would agree that manhood is very much intertwined with the fulfillment of a mission, even if it brings death. He was sent by his Father in order to die for the sins of the world, and thus rescue his bride — the church — from death and Satan. In his case, to escape death would have been an unmanly act of cowardice because it would mean forsaking the mission.

The death of Jesus is a heroic death. Even if you strip away the theological meaning of the cross — that this is the eternal Son of God in human flesh, dying a substitutionary death for his people, the righteous for the unrighteous, taking upon himself the curse and wrath they deserve in order to rescue them from sin, Satan, and death, thus purifying a people for his own eternal possession — it may still be seen as heroic. Indeed, every great story of sacrifice, whether fictional (like Harry Potter sacrificing himself for his friends) or historical (like the men who went down with the Titanic so women and children could be spared an icy death) is derivative of the gospel. Anyone who sacrifices on behalf of others is now regarded as a Christ-figure for precisely this reason. The gospel is the ultimate story and it has shaped the stories we tell and the way we tell them. According to Podles, at least some pagans were able to see heroism in Jesus’ ministry and in his death, though they rejected the greater meaning Christians ascribed to these events. After surveying the many manly features of Jesus’ ministry, including his emotional life, Podles demonstrates the connection between Jesus and the classical conception of masculinity:

Jesus suffered crucifixion, the dishonorable death of a slave, but by that means attained the name that is above all other names. Paul accepted the classical ideal of masculinity and showed how Jesus fulfilled it and how a Christian could attain it. A man attained true manhood by a noble death in service to others; Jesus above all did this…For Paul, Jesus’ seemingly shameful death was in fact understandable, even in classic terms, as a heroic death. By his conquest of death and his resurrection Jesus was established as Lord, Kyrios, and his kingdom is universal and eternal. Jesus continues to exercise his self-restraint and clemency, characteristics of the ideal ruler, by restraining his divine anger at the evil of the world, and thereby manifests his manhood.

Jesus fulfills the anthropological model of masculinity, especially as it was understood in the classical world. Coming from an inconspicuous but mysterious and honorable background, Jesus leaves the world of his mother and goes about his Father’s business. He overcomes all obstacles to save those entrusted to him, and deserves the highest honor, the title of Lord. He uses strength to others in ways small and great, from washing their feet to raising the dead. Jesus confronts death, passes through it, and defeats it, and is initiated into a new life. His emotions, including anger and love, are intense, manifesting his thumos, but they are always perfectly controlled and reasonable.

Even if the connections Podles draws between the masculinity of Jesus and the vision of masculinity idealized by the classic tradition are not completely convincing, he still makes an important point. The fact that Jesus died in shame and weakness would not have, in themselves, invalidated his manliness since dying a martyr’s death for the sake of a greater good was not altogether foreign to the world of classic antiquity.

It is true that pagans often ridiculed the idea of a “Savior of a cross,” a man who “saved others but cannot save himself.” It is true they regarded the meaning ascribed to the cross in Christian preaching and theology as foolishness. But this does not mean they would have inevitably seen Christ as emasculated. Of course, the same goes for Paul and the other early Christians martyrs. One of the things that made the Christian faith so compelling to outsiders in those early centuries was the bravery of Christians, male and female, in the face of horrific suffering and death. Many persecutors were persuaded to become believers precisely by seeing the way Christians faced death without blinking — just like Jesus. Christian men – and even Christian woman – displayed “manly courage” in the face of persecution and death, something that amazed and drew in many pagans whose lives had been dominated by fear.

Again, this is not to say that pagans, Jews, and Christians all agreed on the meaning of manhood. They did not. The gospel brought believers to a new and transformed understanding of masculinity (and by implication, femininity as well) — and this was undoubtedly offensive to those on the outside of the church. But just as we should not flatten out the real differences between an evangelized masculinity and pagan masculinity, neither should we exaggerate the differences.

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On December 1, 2020 By In Church, Culture, Discipleship

Jesus: The Blessed Man, An Introduction to Masculinity and Family Life

Guest Post Series by Rev. Rich Lusk

Introduction

If we want to know what it means to be a blessed man, perhaps we need to start with manhood itself.a What does it mean to be a man? How are men different from women? How does a man’s masculinity feed into his duties/roles as a husband and father? What shape should a man’s rule over his home and in the world take?

Masculinity (like femininity) is notoriously difficult to define. Masculinity includes maleness, but is something more; it is possible for one to be male but fail to be adequately masculine. Certainly we could give a biological definition, and what we learn about male (and female) nature that way is crucial, but we obviously want more than that. Some have defined manhood in terms of the 3 B’s: the billfold (provision), the ballfield (strength, competency), and the bedroom (his sexual relationship with his wife and the children who come from that). Others have focused on the 4 P’s: provision (man as breadwinner), protection (man as spiritual and physical guardian), procreation (one flesh with his wife, father to his children), and passion (interests leading to competency/dominion in various areas). Others have given more technical definitions: “Masculinity is the glad assumption of sacrificial responsibility.” Or more elaborately: “Masculinity is the presence of distinctive traits and drives especially found in men, including dominance, leadership, emotional self-control, aggression, and competitiveness, all used sacrificially for the good of others.” Still other definitions connect masculinity with certain forms of rule and authority, or with dominion over the earth since man was made from the earth and is oriented towards working/transforming it, or with the potentiality of fatherhood.

Biblically, several features of manhood stand out. Certainly, men are to be protectors and providers, warriors and workers, the muscle and the money. We see this in Genesis 3 where the man fails to protect his wife and the garden from the serpent and is then cursed in the realm of provision because that is his primary domain/responsibility. Manhood is also obviously connected with fatherhood. This capacity for fatherhood (whether realized or not) is the thing that most distinguishes the man from the woman (just as her capacity for motherhood distinguishes her from him). Obviously, fatherhood derives from and is to be patterned after divine fatherhood (Ephesians 3).

Scripture gives several depictions of idealized manhood. Psalm 1 and especially 112 could be understood in this light. Noah, Job, and Daniel are given as models of masculine faithfulness. David’s exhortation to Solomon to “Be a man” suggests a cluster of virtues and practices, such as courage, persistence, strength, leadership, diplomacy, grit, humility, dominion/competence, and so forth, are all crucial to masculinity. We could say the same about Paul’s exhortation to manliness in 1 Corinthians 16: he wants the men of the Corinthian church to lead the way in acting boldly so the church can function as a counter-cultural community.

The qualifications for church officers (who obviously must be men) in 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1 can certainly be viewed descriptions of the “model man.” If you take all these qualifications together, you find that Scripture calls men to an ambitious mix of mature faithfulness and wisdom, combining boldness and bravery with humility and gentleness. The biblical man is a Renaissance man of sorts — a man who knows how to read a book with a depth and who knows how to engage in a fight with skill; a man who knows how to be tough, how to be gentle, and when to be which. It is interesting to compare these conceptions of manhood to those found in other cultures and religions. There are many features of masculinity that are virtually universal, such as honor, courage, strength, and leadership.

The OT expects battlefield prowess of men and praises them for it every bit as the literature of classical antiquity. It does not carry the same expectation of women; indeed, men who flee from the battlefield are regarded as acting like women (Jer. 50:37). There are consistent hints in Scripture of a division of labor between the sexes (e.g., the sexually differentiated curses in Gen. 3; Prov. 31:23, 27; 1 Sam. 8:11-14; Titus 2:3ff; etc.). In virtually every culture or civilization that we know anything about, men have been the primary rulers and stewards over public life and have been regarded as heads of their households, while women were the primary nurturers of children and managers of the home. But this does not mean that pagans and Christians actually agree on masculinity. In paganism, a man would boast in his own strength as he built his house for his own glory. Not so the godly man. Only in biblical religion can humility actually be a virtue for men. The godly man knows that whatever strength he has is a gift and whatever he accomplishes is really due to the Lord working in and through him. Biblical masculinity is masculinity by faith.

Part 2 will be published tomorrow.

Rich Lusk is an American author, minister, and theologian. His book Paedofaith: A Primer on the Mystery of Infant Salvation and a Handbook for Covenant Parents is a book-length discussion of Christian infant faith. He is currently the pastor of Trinity Presbyterian Church in Birmingham, Alabama as well as a co-author of a recent commentary on Ruth published by Athanasius Press.

  1. I recently preached a sermon based on the “family psalms,” Psalm 127 and Psalm 128. Video of the sermon is available here  (the sermon starts about the 17 minute mark) and audio is available here.  (back)

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On November 23, 2020 By In Culture

A Simple View of Life: Liberty and Obedience

I have a very simple view of life. I may decorate it to make it look attractive, but in the end, it’s quite simple. We are created to understand two things: our liberty and obedience. The first has to do with what we want, and the second, what/whom we trust. It’s an elementary view of life, and I gladly stole it from the sweetest of my rotund literary companions, G.K. Chesterton.

But let me develop these just a bit if you don’t mind. If a man wishes to prostitute himself with an eclectic assortment of fantasies and addictions, he can have at it. Most of these are available in a screen near you. The abundance of toys is so great that Jeff Bezos seems perplexed by it. Your view of liberties is determined by the things you want. If you want everything, including that other thing that the 10th commandment prohibits, you want limited liberty. Again, have at it. Many have tried, and from what I understand from archeologists, you can still smell their carcasses in the desert at certain times during the scorching heat.

However, if you want life abundant; the life that drips down your beard like oil, then you need a view of liberty that binds you to certain norms. The Pharisees our Lord chastised wanted a theology of liberty that stifled, and they gladly wore their “Make Hypocrisy Great Again” paraphernalia in the streets for everyone to see. They were dying inside, and Jesus just exposed their rotting soul to the masses. It wasn’t hard, especially when He was the one who knew them from the womb.

For some people, their liberty philosophy is plain to see. Just take a look at their Instagram page and you can tell that they are a busy idol factory. But for others, it’s more subtle. They build their careers on lies and half-truths, developing a vocabulary suitable for the Wall Street mercenary. I think Jordan Peterson’s “Rule Eight” touches on this (Tell the Truth, or At Least Don’t Lie). They masquerade their true intent with lies, and they build a reputation of liberty-lovers, but really their understanding is shallow. They are the ones navigating the self-help magazines at Books-A-Million seeking whom they may devour.

But the young lady who lays out to her pastor a picture of a husband she is after is seeking a good thing. She is limiting her liberty in the right way. She wants the good, even though she may have to moderate her list a bit. Her understanding of liberty is one that will give her maximum prosperity within her context.

Now, the second thing you must grasp is obedience. Remember that little Sunday School song, “O-B-E-D-I-E-N-C-E is the very best way to show that you believe.” That kind of talk will get you killed in any evening in D.C. or Portland. What was common Christian talk is now a challenging proposition in a post-5th-commandment world! But, pardon my Hebrew, “to hell with the obedience nay-sayers!” They don’t want the good of culture or the good of the city. They want the dismemberment of babies and society at large.

Your regard for obedience says a lot more about your worldview than your philosophy degree. Give me five minutes with a young man, and I can tell you more about his view of life than his resume attests. Your understanding of obedience is determinative of whom you trust. The way some trust in horses and chariots is by scoffing at godly authority and chasing after the cool kids with the fancy cars.

I told a group of young men this morning to watch for the flatterers. They praise you incessantly because they want your attention and your obedience…to their demands. But obedience is a matter of heart orientation. We need to look at the flatterer right in the eye, or at least via text, and say, “Get thee behind me, Satan!” After all, we obey what/whom we worship, and we become like what/whom we obey. As I said, I have a very simple view of life.

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On November 22, 2020 By In Counseling/Piety, Culture, Theology

Freedom From Fear

Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. ~ Hebrews 2.14-15

Fear is paralyzing. Growing in the soil of uncertainty and the prospect of losing what we hold dear, fear blooms full flower, debilitating us so that we are unable to take the risks of living life. If allowed, fear will tyrannize your life, manipulating all of your thoughts and actions to avoid the perceived threats. You will see the world around you, whether people or air itself, as out to get you and those whom you hold dear. Consequently, you will live your life with a bunker mentality.

One of the main instigators of fear is lack of hope. You see little to no prospect beyond your present circumstances, so you must hold on to whatever you have right now, anxiously guarding it at all costs. And it is costing you. Your health is suffering and your joy is practically non-existent.

If people can convince you to be afraid, they can control you. They can tyrannize you. If they can convince you, for instance, that a virus will take the most precious thing away from you–your life–they can make you comply with all sorts of irrational strictures. Though the science is hardly conclusive, they will convince you to wear a mask, viewing others as a constant threat to your well-being and understanding yourself as a weaponized pathogenic murderer whose breath will slay hundreds around you. They will convince you to cut yourself off from human interaction by covering your face or avoiding holiday celebrations because of the tyranny of fear. You might even become an evangelist of fear, an ordained “Karen,” calling the infidels on social media and in stores to repent and believe the gospel of fear, adorning yourself with the vestments of fear, and participating in the sacraments of fear. You want to save the world through the world joining you in fear of death.

Fear keeps people under control. Rome used fear to bring in and sustain the Pax Romana, the Roman Peace. If a nation didn’t want their gift, they would crucify hundreds and thousands to bring the rest under control. Our governments in the United States use the threat of taking away your livelihood to give you the gift of life. Keep people in fear and they will stay under control.

But what if people are not slaves to fear, especially fear of death, the ultimate threat? What if they have hope that this life is not all there is to this life? Those types of people can be trouble.

Hope is powerful. Hope draws us into the future, infusing our present words and actions with purpose and meaning. Hope will move you to take what others consider “risks,” suffer hardships, and even face death. Hope drives us. Hope defines and directs our lives. Hope subjugates fear.

The Sadducees who questioned Jesus in Luke 20 were a hopeless lot. They didn’t believe in the resurrection. Because of this, everything that they would ever have, they believed, was in this present life. They were the aristocrats in Israel empowered by Rome and liked things the way they were. Jesus proclaiming a kingdom that demands taking up a cross and following him with the hope of resurrection did not appeal to them. They had their best life now. They had their only life now. Jesus and his gospel were not expedient for their present circumstances, and his claims and actions in the temple threatened to undo their present comforts, overturning the system in which they had power and influence. The lack of hope, the fear of death, controlled them. Jesus’ hope and confidence in the face of death drove him into non-compliance with the present powers-that-be and disrupted the status quo. Fearless people rooted in hope always do.

Those of us who have taken up our crosses and followed Jesus are to have the same hope and, consequently, the same fearlessness that he had in the face of the ruling class in Israel. We are not to be controlled by fear of man or his weapon of death. That is bondage. The life that they promise under their tyranny of fear is mere existence; it is amorphous, expressionless faces, empty feasting tables, unpopulated sanctuaries, isolation, and dying alone. They do it all to save your life. They do it, they say, so that you may survive. And you may survive … for a while … but you’re not living.

Christ Jesus, by suffering death on our behalf and rising again from the dead came to free us from the bondage of the fear of death that holds us in bondage. Believe. Hope. Live.

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On November 21, 2020 By In Culture

Killing Serpents as Christian Act

Here is a reality check that you must accept now, rather than later if you intend to cause a holy ruckus among the peoples of earth: we are all called to daily acts of civil disobedience. I don’t want to diminish the proper hierarchy of things on earth, but let’s be profoundly honest with ourselves–we are rebels at large. We were put in this world to rule over animals (Gen 1:26-28), which is another way of saying we dwell among animals, the kind of sociological creatures that roam around Hollywood and D.C.; we were not put here to be tame creatures of God but to rule over the darkness of this world in the jungles of pagan discourse.

To some, this may appear a bit reductionistic, but I have found it helpful in thinking through our calling as Christians in this world. After Genesis 3, our calling is to rebel rightly against principalities and powers, to offer an alternative interpretation of reality than the nice kids down the block. After all, there is a duality in thinking between serpent tamers and serpent killers. We fall in the latter category unless we want to be sweet and loving towards your neighbors, which in our day usually means forsaking all Christian values for some civic absurdity.

I was reminded in reading Liberation theologians of how “love thy neighbor” has never changed in the hands of liberalism. In a recent piece for the mainline Lutheran Church (ELCA)–you know, those guys that would ordain a chihuahua if they could–the title read: “Love Thy Neighbor: Queer, Black and Liberation Theology.” That’s how they like it! Narrow down the Christian faith to a cheap trick and use Matthew 22 as a front to justify everything, everyone, and to tame the Gospel to a nice, harrowing act of acceptance.

But when the Bible–that ancient instruction book on how to kill a dragon–tells us to love our neighbors, it is in the context of loving God, who does not give us carte blanche on love but tells us that part of loving is rebuking one another when there is sin and challenging the established order when others are not seeking the glory of the kingdom. If you think you are loving your neighbor by some nebulous act of acceptance, you are wrong; if you think you are loving your neighbor by treating the government officials making COVID laws as inerrantists, you are wrong. You love your neighbor by leading him to join the forces that believe killing serpents is not a hobby but a way of life. Serve, do good, but in the end, you are either making someone twice a son of Belial, or you are pushing them to kill Belial. Next to “Christian” in the 1625 Lexicon should have: Belial-killers from birth.

We are rebels in this world. And it’s not because we don’t belong here. The whole world is already ours (Rom. 4:13)! It’s because there are too many people acting and making laws as if they are in charge. They would be glad if your pastor tamed his message to fit whatever the fad may be in the evangelifishiness of the day. When your church leader begins to play music on his newly-battery-full Wokeyman, it’s time to ask the question of whether you are playing for the right team or that team is playing you.

So, ladies and gentlemen, unwoke thyself and ask, “Am I seeking to ‘love my neighbor’ like the latest # on twitter, or am I loving my neighbor towards the team that favors civil disobedience against the post-fall created order?” I have chosen long ago that killing serpents will be a way of life for me, which means I have a meeting with my strategy team tomorrow.

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