Monthly Archives: February 2022

Fight the Good Fight

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Lent comes in for a landing this week. It touches down with Ash Wednesday.

For many of us who take the passion of our Lord seriously, it’ll be a day begun and/or ended with an ashen cross smeared on our foreheads. Unfortunately, I’ve already seen people mocking this incredibly solemn practice. One employed a photoshopped meme of the Dos Equis spokesman from a few years ago with a black cross on his head and saying, “I don’t always fast, but when I do, I make sure everyone knows it.” The person who shared the image was implying that anyone participating in the imposition of ashes is a hypocrite. How do I know? Because he cited the text of Matthew 6:16-18 above the meme.

Too bad he’s wrong in almost every way, not only because he’s mocking the same kind of ceremony demonstrating community-wide repentance recorded in Joel 1:13-14, but because even in the Prophet Joel’s day, the actions were not for the viewer. They were for the bearer. If their intent was to reveal to the viewer the bearer’s self-righteousness (which was Jesus’ point in Matthew 6:16-18), then my critical friend would be right. But that’s not their purpose. They were starkly tangible signs meant for stirring the bearer toward and into repentance, to a recognition of the need for rescue from Sin and the admittance of complete reliance on God for accomplishing such rescue. And by the way, I should add that the Christian continuation of this Godly practice—one that employs the image of a cross—does have some benefit for an unbelieving onlooker. The cross will always be an unspoken, and yet powerful, proclamation to the world around us that Jesus is Lord.

How could that be a bad thing? Well, I’m guessing only a self-righteous person might be offended by a ceremony that puts the cross before the broader community. A cross preaches the need for a savior. A self-righteous person doesn’t need a savior.

But apart from the annual misinformed heckling of Ash Wednesday’s rich tradition, its rites and ceremonies continue to teach what I’d surmise is a two-pronged—and maybe even three-pronged—reminder. Firstly, we’ll remember as the pastor speaks the words of Genesis 3:19 that from dust we were taken, and because of this world’s fall into Sin—because Sin’s wage is Death—every citizen of this globe shall return to the dust. The carbon soot is a tangibly filthy reminder of this. Secondly, we’ll be reminded by the smear’s cruciform shape that the Rescuer has come. By His death and resurrection, He destroyed the last enemy, Death, and now through faith in His sacrifice, it is for us to be raised to live eternally with Him in glory (Hebrews 2:14; 1 Corinthians 15:26; John 11:25). I suppose thirdly, it’s no insignificant ceremony that most will, before laying down to sleep, clean the grit from their faces with water. Martin Luther taught by his Flood Prayer that for believers, all waters can now serve as reminders of the lavish washing away of Sin in Baptism. Ash Wednesday provides a particular potency to this observation, both as it meets with Sin’s filth and our entering into the sleep of Death having first been cleansed.

Beyond these things, I’m sure the conflict in Ukraine is on everyone’s minds. It’s on my mind, too. Like so many of you, I’m praying for peace daily. And while I’m not necessarily a geopolitical Einstein, I am an observer of history and behavior. I know that actions reveal deeper things. As I already shared on social media this past week, I know that America’s military has been readying for war through sensitivity trainings that assume masculinity is toxic and focus on the virtually non-existent specters of white supremacy, microaggression, gender sensitivity, and the like (or in other words, the social justice ideologues have essentially commandeered the military’s leadership in the same way they’ve commandeered our colleges and universities). In the meantime, Russia has continued gearing its powerful military for commanding and conquering everything in its path through force. (By the way, to see the ideological differences between America and Russia, take a look at this video comparing the two nations’ recruitment commercials.) I know that Biden sent no small number of troops to the Baltic States (Lithuania, Latvia, and the like), along with attack helicopters and fighter jets. I know that NATO has activated its Response Force and is readying them in the Baltic region. I know Putin’s singular demand was that NATO not bring Ukraine into its fold, thereby putting an unfriendly force on one of his most crucial borders. I also know Putin has said publicly within the last few months that he believes the Baltic States are Russian territories by right. I know that he has a history of telegraphing his moves to test the mettle of anyone who might try to stop him, which is probably why he said what he said about the Baltics. He did that with Georgia. He did it with Crimea. I know that for as little cognitive ability as Biden appears to have, it’s likely he’s at least been warned by someone that the Baltic States are Article 5 countries in NATO, and if Putin feels threatened enough by one of them and attacks, NATO partners—which includes the United States—are obligated to join in a multinational war against Russia.

I know all of this. And I know it’s very bad stuff. For us here in America, I know it already means inflated expenses. I know people’s investment portfolios took a hit last week. I know gas prices rose above $100 a barrel almost overnight. I know increased costs for goods and services will continue to follow along in tow.

I also know that as I face these terrifying things, I am well equipped for dealing with the fears they stir. I am a Christian. I’ve changed. I’m someone who’s been lifted from the jagged landscape of hopelessness and set down in the verdant pasture of hope-filled faith. This also means I’ve become someone capable of working as hard as I can to change the things within my control, while at the same time submitting to God’s divine care in the things I cannot.

I can’t change the behaviors affecting Ukraine. I can’t change someone’s inclination to mock confessional Christendom. But I can labor to change myself.

Beyond Ash Wednesday, the season of Lent speaks to this, especially the season’s tradition of fasting, which is a biblical behavior geared for spiritual training. For many it involves going without something, or it can mean being resolved to spending a prayerfully selected portion of time working to improve faithfulness. Fasting isn’t required for salvation, of course, but it is hard to argue against Saint Paul commending it as good, saying that just as physical exercise benefits the body, so also do spiritual exercises aimed toward Godliness benefit a Christian both for this present life and the life to come (1 Timothy 4:8).

Thinking about this, and considering what I mentioned above, I’m willing to say that behavior is one of the best indicators of a human’s innards, both physiologically and mentally. If a person is hunched over in pain, something on the inside isn’t right. I just spent a good part of yesterday in Urgent Care, the third time in four weeks, and it’s looking as though I may have kidney stones. It’s the same with the mind and soul. People’s actions demonstrate the fundamental workings of what they believe, what they think of others, how they discern, what’s important to them. Observe a person’s actions and you’ll get a pretty good idea of his or her innermost intentions and substance.

This isn’t a hard saying. Jesus taught it in Matthew 7:17-18 when He said, “Every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit. A healthy tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a diseased tree bear good fruit.” Of course, the Lord speaks this way throughout His Word. So do the Apostles. Take a little time with the Epistle of Saint James. Visit with both of Saint Peter’s epistles. Or Paul’s Epistles to the churches at Rome, Corinth, and Ephesus. You’ll see. Humans betray what’s on the inside by what they do.

I spent some time this past Tuesday in my religion class examining this premise with the 7th and 8th graders. We took time with the Book of Isaiah, 1 Corinthians, and Luke’s Gospel. By the time we were done, not only had we concluded that faith given by the power of the Holy Spirit through the Gospel saves us, but also that it changes us—that it has a noticeable influence in our lives. For one, it chases after opportunities to repent and make amends for the sake of faithfulness to its Lord.

As it would go, one student dug more deeply than the others, suggesting that if a person claims Christ but has no desire, no inclination, no inner longing to wrestle against the flesh, then it’s entirely possible the person isn’t a believer. I agreed to this possibility. Why would I say this? Because again, faith produces the fruits of righteousness, just as Jesus said it would. It doesn’t remain settled in ungodly action or inaction. It has the inherent will to change, to align with Christ, to produce good fruit. This means that when, by the Spirit, we become aware of our failings, faith engages. It steers the human will into the fleshly fracas intent on waging war—and not just to fight, but to win (John 3:6; 1 Peter 2:11; Ephesians 2:10; Galatians 5:16-17).

What does all of this mean?

It means that if you are a Christian, and yet you are a serial gossip, by the power of the Holy Spirit you have what’s necessary for fighting this tendency. If you have no interest in changing, then you need to ask yourself why.

If you are a Christian, but you are short-tempered and cruel with your words in ways that regularly cause strife and division, by the power of the Holy Spirit for faith, you can be one who wrestles against these urges. If you persist in this behavior with little effort or interest in amending, then serious self-reflection is necessary.

If you are a Christian, but still your mind and body wander to mates beyond the borders of marriage, by faith, know you have what’s necessary for taking action against such ungodliness. Faith rises up to barricade against this behavior. If you have no interest in stopping—or you make excuses for continuing in it—there’s a problem.

If you are a Christian, and yet you continue to stay away from worship for fear of illness while at the same time visiting crowded grocery stores, enjoying social gatherings with friends and family, and other such things, take a moment to consider the contradiction in terms and what it might mean to Jesus.

My point: Fight the good fight of faith (1 Timothy 6:12)!

Use the muscle of God at your disposal and actually compete against Sin, Death, and the devil. Take action. Do something to defeat these things, knowing that God is not only on your side, but He is with you in the fray. The pale, bludgeoned, and bloody proof is staring at you from the cross. Jesus has done all that’s required for winning you, not only from Death and Satan, but from yourself—from the Sin-nature—which does all it can to consume and digest you, which uses every weapon in its arsenal to hold you in bondage to who you were before faith.

Wrapping this up, this student was assuming that, at a bare minimum, faith would reveal itself through some sort of effort by the Christian to fight against fleshly desires. She had concluded that to rest contently in Sin is an action implying a completely different set of human innards than what Christ promises.

I happen to agree with her. And she doesn’t know it yet, but I gave her an A for the day. It’s likely I tell her as much when I see her at the Ash Wednesday service.

Pick A Side

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About two years ago, after sharing appreciation for my friend Jeff Wiggins’ reading choices, Jennifer found and purchased for me a first edition of H. Jack Lane’s volume The Wit and Wisdom of Abraham Lincoln. Essentially, it’s a varied collection of Lincoln’s personal letters to friends and colleagues, speeches, war dispatches, and the like. It is by no means Lincoln’s entire repertoire. But at 124 documents in all, it offers wonderful insight into who Lincoln was when hidden.

Being an admirer of Lincoln, as I’m sure so many are, I visit with this volume from time to time. It’s his way with words I appreciate most. He’s skillful. And the skill is inspiring. I haven’t read the book straight through, but instead, I jump around from scribbling to scribbling. Having done so this past Monday, I happened upon a letter Lincoln wrote to Thurlow Weed, a prominent newspaper publisher in New York. On Tuesday morning, I carried the book through the hallways of the school to my theology class where I shared this particular letter with the 7th and 8th grade students. We spent the whole hour considering it.

Essentially, Lincoln wrote the short epistle to thank Weed for complimenting his second inaugural address, which, if you ever have a chance to read the speech, you’ll see is more than influenced by the Word of God. The speech is in Lane’s book, and on its title page, he notes that Dr. Louis Warren, the Chancellor of the University of Oxford during Lincoln’s time, observed that “267 of the 702 words were direct quotations from the Bible and words of application made to them.”

Interesting, but not surprising. Lincoln was a devout Christian man, despite how progressive historians have tried to recast him otherwise—as they continually try to do with so many of our nation’s forefathers. He was a friend of and attentive listener to the preaching of his pastor, Reverend Phineas Gurley, the man who would be by his side into and through nearly every challenge he’d face as president, even the moment Lincoln breathed his last breath.

I share this so you know that no matter how Lincoln’s legacy is currently being retooled, he was no part-time believer, and he was committed to governing as he could answer to God. I’m glad for this, and you should be, too.

What caught my attention in the letter to Weed (and what I took time to examine with the students) was Lincoln’s opening sentence followed by his own explanation of the address. He began the letter very plainly with, “Everyone likes a compliment,” and then a little further in, he wrote contrastingly:

“I believe [the inaugural address] is not immediately popular. Men are not flattered by being shown that there has been a difference of purpose between the Almighty and them.”

In one sense, very little analysis was necessary here. Lincoln stated a simple truth that’s easily observable in the world. While everyone likes to be told they’ve done something right, few appreciate being told their wrong, namely, that they’re on the wrong side of righteousness. This is innate to the Sin-nature. Lincoln knew that. And yet, even beneath the safe assumption that his listening audience was composed primarily of God-fearing Christian citizens, he felt the need to communicate it. Why? Because when it comes to believers, we, too, have a difficult time being told we’re wrong, even though we ought to be the ones most concerned for and able to hear that we’ve stepped out of alignment with the One in whom we’ve staked our faith.

Lincoln took a chance and brought this very accusation.

In the actual speech, he inquired of the people of a divided nation who “read the same Bible, and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other,” should any on either side expect this same God to be in conflict with Himself? Lincoln answered his own question, first by saying with resoluteness, “The prayers of both could not be answered.” And then he capped his position rhetorically by asking, “Shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him?”

No. God is immutable (Numbers 23:19; Malachi 3:6; Numbers 23:19; 1 Samuel 15:29; Isaiah 46:9-11; Ezekiel 24:14; James 1:17; Hebrews 13:8). He does not change, nor does He operate in ways that contradict His nature. As a result, He cannot be for and against something at the same time.

Lincoln was making the theological point that anyone seeking something contrary to God’s will should not expect His blessing, but instead, His resistance and correction. Being the mindful theologian he was, I get the sense Lincoln was familiar with Romans 1:18-32, which includes the frightful warning from Saint Paul that God does not tolerate people opposed to His will indefinitely, but rather, eventually He abandons them to their own will leading to destruction and eternal condemnation. Lincoln didn’t lift anything from this portion of Paul, but he did quote Jesus’ words from Matthew 18:7. Doing so, he took a chance at suggesting that the dreadful Civil War was a just due given to those through whom the offense of slavery came and was sustained in America. And he didn’t just mean the South. He meant the North, too. He aimed his comment at the whole nation—a nation of people not only comprised of slavery’s supporters, but of those who were complicit because they did nothing for far too long. In the end, all were responsible. Even Lincoln himself.

Another gem to be mined from Lincoln’s thoughts is an elementary “something” many of us do all we can to avoid admitting: God does choose sides.

Now, I don’t mean God has a favorite football team (Romans 2:11). Although, I suppose an argument could be made that He certainly appears to prefer any team but the Detroit Lions. I’m also not implying the horrible doctrine of Double Predestination, which claims God chooses some for salvation and others for condemnation. When it comes to rescuing mankind from Sin, Death, and Satan, God is on all our sides (John 3:16-17; 1 Timothy 2:4; 2 Peter 3:9; Ezekiel 18:23; Matthew 23:37). What I am saying is pretty uncomplicated.

God is against evil.

This is not a complicated premise. God is not on the side of Christians who support abortion. He is not on the side of politicians who restrict the Gospel. Could ever be found rejoicing when a serial killer murders a family on their way to worship? Of course not. We more than learn this from the Scriptures. It’s all over the place in the Old Testament. With each depiction, in turn, His people are expected to join Him in opposition to evil (Psalm 1:6; Joshua 24:14-15; Deuteronomy 30:15-20). We see Jesus doing the same thing in the New Testament. For example, He takes sides in the situation of divorce in Matthew 5:32 and 19:9. He takes the side of the woman about to be stoned by the Pharisees in John 8:1-11. In Matthew 12:30, He says straightforwardly that whoever is not with Him is against Him. In Luke 11:28, Jesus proclaims as blessed those who side with the Word of God, that is, those who hear and hold to it as their most precious possession for salvation. Saint Paul is no stranger to the discussion, either. He’s the one who wrote by divine inspiration to God’s people, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31). Later on in 1 Corinthians 11:18, he makes a rather startling remark about God choosing sides in a congregation divided over the practice of the Lord’s Supper, writing that while some among them have God’s approval, others do not. He wrote:

“For, in the first place, when you come together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you. And I believe it in part, for there must be factions among you in order that those who are genuine among you may be recognized.”

The word used in the text for “genuine” is δόκιμοι. This word can also be rendered “approved” or “judged as worthy.” So, who’s the one approving or judging as worthy? God. By this, He’s choosing a side. He’s saying who’s right and who’s wrong. One side is holding to His mandate. The other is not. Subsequently, one side is blessed by the benefits of what’s promised in the Lord’s Supper. The other receives the judgment mentioned in verse 29. This may be an elementary way of thinking this through. Nevertheless, it is what it is.

Coming back around to where I started, I think part of what makes Lincoln’s point sting so much is that it revealed an evil comfortably hidden beneath the guise of righteousness. I think another sting is felt when we realize there will always be folks who aren’t genuinely interested in something being good or bad, just so long as whatever happens in relation to it doesn’t disrupt their interests.

“Sure, abortion is terrible, and I’d never choose it for myself. But I don’t think it’s right to restrict someone else’s right to choose one.”

If this is your position, understand that God is not on your side.

Lincoln was willing to speak these uncomfortable truths to a nation, even though, as he admitted to Weed, he knew his words would not be popular.

Lincoln ended his letter with the following:

“To deny [the difference in purpose between God and evil], however, in this case, is to deny that there is a God governing the world. It is a truth which I thought needed to be told, and, as whatever humiliation there is in it falls directly on myself, I thought others might afford for me to tell it.”

Again, he’s right. When you hold fast to wrongness and resist acknowledging you’ve stepped beyond the boundaries of faithfulness, you not only deny the just governance of God (because what you’re suggesting is that you’re right and He’s wrong), but you also teeter at the edge of denying His existence completely. Both are an affront to the First Commandment, and they’re nothing short of putting oneself in the place of God.

No one likes to be told they’re out of step with God’s will. And yet, for as piercing as such news might be, the penitent believer in Christ has been changed by the Gospel for receiving such a warning as an extension of God’s loving kindness. It’s a good thing that God tells us when we’re dangerously close to unfaithfulness, or that we’ve strayed from faithfulness altogether. Thankfully, Lincoln had clarity in this regard. Imagine if we had more people in the public square with the same clarity as Lincoln—people willing to call Sin what it is, and to speak courageously of Christ as the only side that rescues. Imagine if we still enjoyed the comforts of a populace with ears to hear such a message.

Consequences

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The church and school staff here at Our Savior in Hartland meet every Wednesday for study of the Lutheran Confessions. Currently, I’m leading them through Article IV of the Apology of the Augsburg Confession. Article IV deals with the doctrine of justification—the doctrine by which the Church stands or falls. During this past Wednesday’s study, we wandered into the area of consequences. As we did, a quotation from T.H. Huxley came to mind, which I shared. He said something about how logical consequences are a fool’s scarecrow, but for a wise man, they are a beacon.

Interestingly, each of the presentations during yesterday’s “Mental Health and Children” seminar here at Our Savior proved an awareness of consequences. Each presenter handled the term a little differently, but in the end, all affirmed consequence’s necessity.

In a psychological sense, I’m guessing that like all three of yesterday’s presenters, perhaps one of Huxley’s points is that foolish people meander about life less interested with consequence, and not necessarily because they’re completely oblivious, but because they’re mentally and spiritually unhealthy. These people are often disassociated from the effects of their words and actions. We see them treating people as it suits them. We see them expect respect without having done anything to earn it. I think they do these types of things because of an early-learned assumption that as long as they believe their intentions are noble, no matter how they treat someone, everything will be okay in the end. Things always work out. For them, that’s the only consequence.

This is scarecrow foolishness.

According to Huxley, wise people weigh consequences. Yesterday’s seminar presenters spoke in a similar stride, associating such awareness with normal mental health. Following Huxley’s lead, wise people observe consequences like pyres burning brightly on the horizon. They tend to maintain better control of the “self.” They keep their emotions in balance. They craft their words with care. I’m guessing they’re also likely to be people who are self-aware of their own unspoken tells—things like body language, tone, and catch-phrases. They care about even these things in conversation.

I made the point in the staff study on Wednesday that I believe a person who is mindful of consequence will naturally know his or her threshold for action. In other words, knowing the consequences of an action will uncover what a person is willing or unwilling to do in any given situation. I said this in relation to what we were reading at the time, and I didn’t want the staff to miss what the text was inferring, which was, through faith in Christ, no matter what happens in this life, the consequence of all consequences has been met by Jesus on the cross. By faith in this sacrifice, whether we live or die, we are His. This doesn’t mean we are now free from all consequences, but rather we have been made into people capable of walking into and withstanding challenges that others might normally avoid. Faith now serves as the point of origin for Christian discernment, translating all logical consequences in ways that help us break through to faithfulness when fear seems to be preventing us from doing what needs to be done.

A personal example from this past week comes to mind.

Having spent most of last Sunday evening in the Emergency Room, I ended up at our preferred pharmacy near our home on Tuesday afternoon (because Tuesday was the soonest I could get there) to pick up a subsequent prescription. On the way in, I noticed a car in the parking lot with two rather large bumper stickers, both prominently displayed and easily seen from a distance. One was the Antifa emblem, and the other read, “Capitalism is the virus.”

In case you didn’t know, Antifa is a far-left militant group. Their goal: to disrupt and destroy the American system and to replace it with their own. Do you remember those “Autonomous Zones” in Seattle and Washington D.C. back in 2020? Antifa were the thugs behind that stuff. They’re the ones you see on national news dressed in black, wearing ski masks and helmets and body armor, and leveling all sorts of violence and ruin using urban guerilla-warfare tactics. They’re hell bent on seeing socialism replace capitalism, and they believe the only way to do this is through intimidation and violent confrontation similar to their Marxist forefathers of the early 20th century. You can almost always count on them to serve as the muscle at “Black Lives Matter” rallies. Holding anarchy signs, they attack passersby, break windows, and burn buildings and cars. They’re famous for using improvised explosives, chemical irritants, and pretty much anything they can turn into a weapon—like metal pipes, axe handles, baseball bats, hammers, bricks, and the like. Not to mention, whether or not they’ve surrounded, sucker-punched, and kicked you to a bloody pulp, you know they’ve been in your neighborhood because they leave everything covered with trash and graffiti.

But sometimes you don’t know they’re in your neighborhood.

Another of their tactics aimed toward disruption is infiltration. Some experts believe this is how Antifa has known where and when to arrive in mass numbers when some relatively obscure conservative groups have organized an event. This happened to a Christian church’s outdoor service last year in Seattle.

In short, Antifa is responsible for hundreds of thousands of acts of violence, some resulting in death, as well as billions of dollars in damages across 140+ of America’s cities and towns. In May of 2020, President Trump announced he was labeling Antifa a domestic terrorist group. Of course, Joe Biden has since walked that back. Go figure.

Anyway, I went into the pharmacy. I looked around. I didn’t notice any black-clad militant Marxists. In fact, the only two patrons in the store were in line at the pharmacy. Both were elderly gentlemen who, as it turns out, knew each other. By their clothing, both appeared to be veterans. And both spent their time in line talking back and forth about what was happening at their respective churches.

I waited in line, got my prescription, stopped at home for a few minutes, and then went back to the church for a School Board meeting.

Later that night, I found myself back in the pharmacy parking lot. The car was still there. Once again, I went inside and scanned the store with the hope of identifying the person. But the place was empty. I grabbed a bottle of pop from one of the coolers in the furthest corner, and after a brief discussion with the manager at the checkout counter (one in which I shared much of what I just shared with you, while also drawing the manager’s attention through the store’s windows to the car in the parking lot), I discovered the vehicle’s owner works in the pharmacy. My concluding words in the conversation were fairly crisp.

“So, let me get this straight,” I said. “An Antifa sympathizer—someone driving around advertising a belief, not only in the disassembling of America through violence, but also in the benefit of subversive anonymity—has been hired by this company to fill prescriptions for the people of this town, at least two of whom are, as I discovered earlier this afternoon, elderly veterans, men who epitomize everything your employee hates?”

“Oh, goodness,” the manager said. “I’m probably going to have to talk to her.”

“I think that’s a really good idea,” I added, tucking my purchase into my coat pocket. “You might even want to talk to someone a little higher up before you do, because this is pretty serious. I doubt any company would want to generate unnecessary buzz due to association with a domestic terror group.” I said this insinuating I was willing to make that happen.

Notice I didn’t share with you the name of the store or town. Although, I’m sure some of you already know both. Nevertheless, I’m going to sit on that information for a few days to see what happens.

In the meantime, what does any of this have to do with knowing one’s threshold for action in relation to consequences? Well, quite a bit, actually.

There will be consequences for what I’ve done. Heck, I anticipate there will be consequences from some of you for just sharing this. Some will label me derogatorily as a “Karen.” Some will chalk me up as part of the cancel culture. Others will say my actions suppress free speech. Knowing Antifa’s history, others will say I put myself in harm’s way by seeking the person out. Perhaps worse, by confronting the ideology, and maybe even getting the person fired, others will accuse me of putting the store and its town in the crosshairs of this dreadful organization. All of these are but a few of the consequences. Believe me, the list is much longer than this. Yes, I was paying attention in the School Board meeting earlier that night, but I was also pondering the list’s possibilities.

Face it, folks. This nation is spiraling in so many ways. But this is largely true because too many have been unwilling to act for fear of the above list of consequences. The viscera for saying what needs to be said or doing what needs to be done in some of the hardest moments has, in many instances, been lost on the citizens of a somnolent nation braced by the fear of being cancelled. We’ve become those who meander around thinking that no matter what happens, everything will be okay. America will be fine. It’ll get sorted out.

No, it won’t. And we are experiencing the consequences of this scarecrow foolishness.

In the end, I did what I did because I know Christians are the ones best equipped for speaking. Why? In part, because we know the role consequences play in the equation of faith.

I know this has been a long read so far, but give me one last minute to explain.

Whoopi Goldberg (a celebrity on the daytime TV show “The View” that regularly ridicules Christians and conservatives) was recently put on leave for some truly ignorant comments about the Holocaust. In response, there were plenty of Christians calling for her suspension, but not necessarily calling for it permanently. While they despised what she said, they didn’t want to see her cancelled. They said she needed to be forgiven and then let loose back into the wilds of TV land.

Personally, I’m one of the Christians who wants her gone permanently. I’m also one of those guys who believes that any leader in the Church caught having an affair or other such ungodly behaviors, should be removed from his or her position of leadership permanently and with no exceptions. Why? Well, I have at least three reasons for starters.

The first is not because I’m unwilling to forgive anyone their sinful stupidity. We all fall short in big and small ways. The Bible is clear in this regard (Romans 3:10). But I say this because the person is in a place of influential strength, and their impact has a blast radius that God’s Word warns against (Titus 3:10-11; 1 Timothy 1:19-20). Besides, history itself proves how dangerous such situations involving public figures can be for communities. Their Sin has a way of trickling into and affecting countless others. With regard to Whoopi, the second reason is that she remains defiantly unrepentant in her Sin. The third reason is because, even if she does eventually repent, I believe in consequences in the same way our Lord describes them in Matthew 5:23-26:

“So if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are going with him to court, lest your accuser hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you be put in prison. Truly, I say to you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.”

Part of the Lord’s point is the urgency of penitent reconciliation. Get on it right away. He wants peace accomplished swiftly and thoroughly. If it isn’t, the logical consequences will eventually ensue. Relationships will come undone, even though forgiveness has been given. What once was good will become obscured, even though things have been set right. That’s just the way it works in a fallen world. Or perhaps from another angle, you may be a serial killer on the way to trial who has a genuine “come to Jesus” moment of repentance born from the Gospel that results in saving faith. Praise God. You are forgiven. No matter the outcome, eternal life is yours. But the consequences remain for the serious boundaries of natural and moral law you crossed. While you may be assured of heaven through faith in Christ and the forgiveness He bestows, here on earth you’re assured of prison, and maybe even execution. And rightfully so. These are the just consequences. But again, even as you face these consequences, by the Gospel you have the certainty that the consequence of all consequences has been defanged and defeated by the same Savior who has shown you eternal mercy. By this, whether you live or die, you know you’ll be okay.

I’m praying for a change of heart in the Antifa pharmacist. I’m praying for the wisdom of the manager at that store. I’m praying for a change of heart in Whoopi Goldberg. But as I lift these petitions before God, I do so also asking that He’d help me to be ready and willing to cross the thresholds of my fear in order to endure the consequences of any action I might be called to take in opposition to these devilries. I pray for these things because I know what they mean for my enemies just as much as what I know they mean for me.

No Do Over

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God’s Word is rich. I just love it.

One of the main thrusts of today’s celebration—the Transfiguration of Our Lord (which, because we follow the Historic Lectionary, comes to us at Our Savior in Hartland a little earlier than the churches that use the Three-Year Lectionary)—is the importance of listening to the Word above all other things (Matthew 17:5). In fact, the Heavenly Father turns the disciples’ combined attention away from the Lord’s glorious display to the simplicity of listening to Jesus. And why? Not only because Jesus is the Word made flesh, but because it’s by the Gospel that He chooses to engage with and save His world (Romans 1:16). Spectacular light shows and wowing performances might inspire awe, but they’re impact is easily dulled by sinful human forgetfulness—as all three of these disciples will continue to prove time and time again not long after the Transfiguration. James and John will run away in fear when the Lord is captured. Peter will deny three times that even knows Him.

“Listen to Him,” is the Father’s Word. That will always be more important.

One of the things I love most about God’s Word is that the more you study it, the more it reaches into you and equips you for seeing things in ways that you didn’t before. An easy example of this comes from what I read this morning in 1 Corinthians 1:18-31. Essentially, Saint Paul sets the stage for us to keep our senses attuned to how God operates, writing plainly that He often does so in opposites. He chooses the weak things instead of the strong. He chooses to work His powerful victory among us through what appears to be the brutal defeat of His Son on a cross.

Of course, I knew these things already. Still, taking Paul’s lead, I began contemplating the familiar opposites I experience in life, specifically success and failure.

Like you, I experience victories and I suffer defeats. The old saying “You win some and you lose some” is not lost on any of us, and neither are the feelings of joy and sadness that come with winning and losing. But digging a little deeper into these opposites, what’s really at their centers? What’s really driving victory’s joy? What is it about defeat that induces genuine sorrow? Because God is big on opposites, I wonder if He has in mind for us to understand that the midpoint for winning or losing is in some way relative to what’s at stake for its opposite. In other words, it’s not necessarily the victory that delivers the joy, but also the knowledge of what was almost lost. The same goes for losing. It’s not so much the defeat that stings as it is the knowledge of what remains out of reach, of the inaccessible value of what was almost won.

I preach and teach fairly regularly how these deeper perspectives matter to the Christian Church. If you don’t know the value of what God says is good, how can you truly care to steer clear of the bad? If you don’t know the deeper significance of what’s at stake for eternal life, how can being connected to the One who can rescue you ever really rise to a place of genuine prominence in this life?

While many of us might not want to admit it, part of the problem is that we’ve retooled our spirituality to match the world’s spirituality, believing that there will always be another opportunity for everything, that there will always be a next season. We do this with our favorite sports teams. We do this with our jobs. We do this with so many things in life. Unfortunately, we also do this with marriage, making it disposable, and figuring we can always try again with someone else. We do the exact same thing with churches, friendships, and even our children. Far too many in our world are now doing this with Natural Law and human sexuality, thinking they can change the unchangeables and live as somebody new. And while we may get away with abusing these things in this life, we ought not let ourselves be fooled into thinking that there will be a next season for winning eternal life. When you breathe your last, or if the Lord returns again in glory, all seasons will have passed. All opportunities for running a different play, taking another shot, or trying a new pitch will have ceased. The buzzer will have sounded, and the divine Referee will have declared the winners and the losers for an unending future.

This is it, folks. Everything is on the line. Everything for the world to come matters right now in the world of today.

Come to think of it, I suppose another reason any of this might come to mind is because I learned this morning of a friend’s recent passing. It appears he was killed suddenly in an auto accident. Having met him at a side job in my college years, and getting reacquainted online through comments he’d sometimes make on my posts, he was the kind of guy who was betting on making it to old age, to a stage of life when he’d be able to see his own death on approach. And assuming he’d know when he was in that inevitable season, it was then he’d start to “get right with God.”

But time ran out. He was killed instantly.

Admittedly, our gracious Lord does sometimes move within the framework of a person’s final moments. He gives a little insight into this possibility in Matthew 20:1-16, which, by the way, is the Gospel reading appointed for next Sunday, Septuagesima. But if you take a moment with the parable Jesus tells (which is another example of opposites), you’ll notice that our Lord insists on doing things His way, not ours. In that respect, I’m reminded of a short video clip of Rev. Dr. David Scaer (https://wp.me/aaCKV0-1Be) in which he talks about how we like to hold up various examples of deathbed conversions, usually only doing so to justify believing that our delinquent loved ones made it into heaven. But Scaer admits we all know: it rarely happens this way in reality. Not everyone goes to heaven. People do actually end up in hell.

There’s value in admitting this.

Changing gears only slightly (or, perhaps, getting back around to where I started, which was the topic of listening to the Word), Bishop Hardy and I had a conversation this past week about the challenges of being pastors, namely, dealing with the kinds of people who appear to thrive on accosting us. I remember us needing very little back-and-forth when it came to one particular aspect of the calling, which is that every day brings new opportunities for being someone’s villain. The message we believe and bring, both Law and Gospel, all but guarantees this. In short, the point of the conversation, and an opposite of sorts:  Why do we stay in a job that so often feels like defeat when we certainly could be doing something else that enjoys greater success? We agreed that whether we’re received as heroes or villains, neither of these opposing titles outweigh the value of the message we bring and its inherent power to change us—and to equip us—for the long haul. It makes us into men who are content to do what the Father commanded—which is to listen to the Word. In the end, we continue in the combat because the Word is everything to us. I’m guessing other pastors keep at it, enduring the same things for the exact same reason. The Word has made them into men who, like them or hate them, simply believe what Jesus says, and are quite well with taking any flak His words are guaranteed to stir.

I should add one more observation. It’s also likely pastors stay in the game because they want this endurance for more than just themselves. They want it for you, too. I know I do. Interestingly, and again keeping Paul’s theme of “opposites,” that encouraging thought also bears a word of warning to the wolves among God’s people. Or better yet, a clarification. Against pastors and people devoted to God’s Word, your troublemaking better have stamina for the long game, and not to mention lots of help, because those who embrace, believe, and stand on the Word—again, like them or hate them—are not only emboldened by God through His Word, but they are empowered. That means they aren’t quitters. They won’t roll over so easily in the face of devilry.