Thinking-Christianly

When an individual or culture ignores the historic data of the New Testament, it moves toward a distorted picture of Christ. In the absence of facts, we tend to build our image around imagination and speculation. We reconstruct a portrait build around a Western, Freudian model rather than on the facts as revealed in the contemporary sources from authors like Luke, Matthew, Mark, and John.

The modern palate from which we create our picture of Jesus often produces an image of a man who was a humble itinerant preacher, adverse to publicity and attention. He is sometimes depicted as a man who made no pretension to divinity or status. It is argued that his followers and those who came after them inserted such wild claims into the documents in order to add weight to the emerging faith called Christianity.

Beyond the fact that the manuscript evidence gives us no room for such fanciful speculation, there are occasions in the text where this portrayal of Jesus is as unlikely a fit as trying to squeeze a cow through an opening in a back door designed for a dog.

For example, in Matthew 12 Jesus responds to a charge by the Pharisees that his disciples had desecrated the Sabbath. They noticed that when Jesus and his disciples traveled on a particular Sabbath, some of them picked heads of grain and ate them. In the mind of the legalists, this action was equivalent to harvesting and threshing, which was a violation of the laws of Moses. In response, Jesus points out two occasions where individuals ate or worked on the Sabbath without condemnation. The first precedent he notes was King David’s eating of the consecrated bread when fleeing from the murderous intentions of Saul. (See Matthew 12:3-4.) Both David and his men were given this bread to eat out of necessity. Jesus then points to the priests themselves, who labor on the Sabbath without condemnation. Having looked at one of the most respected kings in Israel’s history, and the elevated role of Levitical temple priests, Jesus states, “One greater than the temple is here.” He adds, “The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.” (See Matthew 12:6 and 12:8.)

Jesus claims to be superior to the holiest place on earth and the holiest day of the week. He is not subject to the restrictions—real or artificial—that the Pharisees would put on his behavior. Because of his nature, he can override such things with impunity because they are not as important as he is.

Though Jesus demonstrated amazing humility in his incarnation, he was not the modest teacher who eschewed extravagant claims that some portray him to be. We live in a relational age that stresses his humanity and his immanence. Jesus breaks through that one-dimensional image and repeatedly speaks of his transcendence. All law, all moral categories, all rights and privileges flow from him. Because they derive from him they do not define him. He defines them. Any gospel declaration that sacrifices the supremacy of Christ impoverishes the church, because it replaces a Lord who has the authority to direct creation and mankind with an administrator who is restricted in the same way we are.

Imagine you are attending a performance of “Oklahoma.” The musical starts out as expected, but it isn’t long before you notice that one of the characters is saying strange things that do not fit into the setting. One of the actors was given lines from “Death of a Salesman” and uses this language instead of following the script of “Oklahoma.” If that unlikely scenario were to happen, you can imagine the conflict it would cause. There would be outrage and criticism on the part of some. Others might be mildly amused or confused. But the harmony of those on the set would be threatened by this renegade actor.

In some ways that is the picture of the Christian in the drama of human life. In Matthew 11:16-17, Jesus compares the people of his time to children playing make-believe. They complain that others don’t comply with their fantasy expectations. “We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.” They are critical of the script that Jesus and his followers are following because it does not fit into the screenplay they have written.

The storyline the culture follows has a radically different spin on life than God’s revelation in the Bible. Value is measured in the accumulation of stuff. People are the result of a freak accident in the ancient past, compounded by endless mutations. The individual is the measure of all things, and works best when he is autonomous from those around him. The supernatural is the byproduct of fertile imaginations, wishful thinking, and human ignorance. The only meaning you find in life is that which you construct for yourself. Truth is the byproduct of your own internal thinking and not universal. God does not (or may not) exist. Christianity is a religion populated with hypocrites who have no fun, condemn everyone, and are infected with a nasty bigotry against all others.

Such are the parameters of the play that men tend to write. They draft their own understanding of life and reality and expect everyone around them to follow the script and go along with the presuppositions that shape their version of life’s story.

In such a situation Christ-followers will always look strange. They will respond to situations differently. They will humbly but courageously challenge the values that the majority of people around them embrace (whether these friends and neighbors have thought through them or not). They will not fit in with the role culture assigns, and will be regarded as stupid, odd, mistaken, or dangerous by those who deeply value the storyline that is the cultural norm.

Neither Jesus nor John the Baptist fit the story their contemporaries scripted. (See Matthew 11:18 -19.) Anyone who dares to follow Christ today will encounter similar responses by those around them. It’s the natural consequence of following a screenplay drafted in heaven rather than the one written on earth.

Pat Robertson has provoked much anger and ridicule by maintaining that the because of the events of about 200 years ago, the nation has been cursed with all kinds of troubles.

In these kinds of circumstances, it’s wise to separate fact from speculation. Robertson is correct in maintaining that the Haitian people were under that heel of the French. Like many other Caribbean nations, they were a colony. As the desire for independence grew, in 1791 a voodoo priest named Dutty Boukman mobilized some Haitians in the north to begin a revolt not unlike the revolt in the American colonies against the English. There were no eyewitness reports about the meeting, so the details are obscure. Some later accounts suggest that because the French oppressors were being rejected, the God they spoke of should be rejected as well. Therefore, those who took part in the revolution should turn to whatever deity or deities they embraced before the French came to the island. (Historically, many had roots in the animism of Africa because that was their original pace of origin.)

The rejection of the French and their faith on the part of some has been described as some kind of pact with the devil. At best, that overstates the case. At worst, it’s a massive fabrication.

Whenever a nation claims to follow the Christian faith but does not apply the principles of justice and kindness, it invites rejection of the faith it bears. It’s not surprising that the abuses of colonization caused a backlash against Christianity in many places in the new world. Where moral principles of the New Testament were applied with love and sacrifice, good resulted. Where greed and power ruled, Christianity was rejected. Hypocrisy always invites rejection of faith and does not require some kind of contract with Satan.

Secondly, there is no biblical precedent for some kind of agreement between a nation and Satan to shape the future of a people group. Yes, Satan is called “the prince of the power of the air.” He does have regulated influence in the world. The book of Job illustrates that Satan is on a tight leash by God. In Luke 10:19 Jesus gives his disciples power over this enemy. This isn’t the place for an extended look into all the Bible says of Satan, but the overall picture does not depict him as one who rules over nations. The concept of a “pact with the Devil” makes for interesting drama in movies and books (Anyone remember The Devil and Daniel Webster?)

Some will refer to a heavenly messenger who meets with Daniel to help him understand a vision in Daniel 10. He mentions that the prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood him. (See Daniel 10:13.) Some have concluded that there are some kind of national malevolent spirits who may rule over nations. That conclusion reads too much into the text.

Satan’s malevolence touches all nations and all human hearts, seducing us from loyalty to God and enticing us to the same self-sufficiency and arrogance that Adam and Eve chose. Jesus described him as “a liar and the father of lies.” There is no biblical warrant, however, to conclude that entire nations are forever under the domination of Satan as Robertson suggests.

It must be added that there is a link between some of the brokenness in the Haitian culture and the common practice of voodoo. Historically, voodoo does not inspire its adherents to acts of mercy, love and kindness. It does not engender altruism, self-sacrifice, grace, or the elevation of the human condition. Like secular humanism, it lacks the moral foundation that biblical Christianity offers that can produce the best loving and nurturing environment possible.

When a shark attacks a swimmer, it generally makes the news. Warnings go out in the area and swimmers and surfers are reminded to be careful and avoid situations where they might be attacked. Any death or life-threatening incident reminds us that the oceans of the world are not 100% safe.

We can adopt two responses to the reality that an environment like the ocean is not guaranteed to be safe. One option is to avoid the ocean—or any part of it that is deep enough for a shark to swim in. (Here in Iowa we don’t have any fear of shark attacks, being about as far away from the ocean as you can in the continental United States.) The other option is to enjoy the benefits of the ocean, but to do so carefully. It means being alert, wise, and responsible when we are in the ocean.

Most of us would deem the second option to be better. It would be a shame to avoid the waters that cover so much of the planet on which we live. Though not safe, the ocean offers majesty, beauty, and opportunity on all kinds of levels.

Another environment that offers promise, but is also dangerous, is the world of men. Jesus told his disciples, “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves.” (See Matthew 10:16.) Most of us have found the world of man to be much more dangerous than the saltwater beaches of our world. Because of our fallen state, the world of people includes dangers such as betrayal, abuse, deceit, exploitation, anger, animosity, selfishness, theft, revenge, and murder. Our moral brokenness puts sharp edges in our lives that can slice into the lives of those around us. Who of us has not felt the sting of deceit as we have bought into false ideas of those around us about how to make like work, only to discover that these solutions brought new problems into our lives?

Jesus understands the dangers of living in the brokenness of a world such as our own. But he does not call his disciples to retreat from it. In fact, he sends them out into it—out among the sharks. But he gives counsel about how to swim in such places.

In Matthew 10:16 Christ adds, “Therefore be as shrewd as snakes.” It’s an odd metaphor for us in our time. We don’t ascribe wisdom to snakes. Our metaphor prefers to think of owls. (Either image is arbitrary, and reinforces the call to wisdom.) Regardless of the animal you pick for your mental image, the point is the same. Those who are Christ followers are called to be shrewd. The word can be translated sensible, thoughtful, or prudent. It means that we are to think as we swim among the human sharks of our world.

This kind of discernment is not self-created. It comes only from the Spirit who lives in the lives of those who belong to Christ. He is eager to give us insight as to how to conduct ourselves so that we are not devoured, and so that we can be effective ambassadors of the savior we serve. The culture rightly mocks many who claim to follow Christ, but who do so without any kind of thoughtfulness. Their lives are full of bizarre, odd, and self-centered behaviors. They contradict the teachings of Jesus more than they reflect them. And their lives can often resemble a soap opera more than echo a picture of divine redemption.

But sometimes those qualities are mirrored in our own lives–when we are self-sufficient, when we mimic the values of our culture, when we are too impatient to cultivate the mind of Christ. Swimming in dangerous waters is part of the call of Christ to all of his followers. But to do so, we must not neglect the cultivation of spiritual wisdom through careful study of the word, prayer, and the tutoring of the Spirit that brings a depth of thoughtfulness seldom seen in this world.

I recently read a note from a Lutheran pastor who was encouraging the dissenters in is congregation not to exit the ELCA as other churches are doing. One of his arguments was that the Bible encourages diversity of belief. He maintained that the existence of four gospels demonstrates that we don’t have to all believe the same things.

The premise of the argument is that the gospels are substantially different. While they offer different perspectives on the life and teaching of Jesus, they do not conflict over the content of his teaching. In each gospel Jesus reveals his identity as savior, preaches about repentance and the need to be reconciled with the Father, and dies on the cross as a substitute for those who would put their faith in him. The emphasis and flavor of the gospels may vary, but their depiction of who Jesus was and what he taught is the same throughout.

Paul argues strongly for the unity of the gospel message in Galatians 1:8, insisting, “But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let him be eternally condemned!” The unity of the teaching of the true gospel precludes the adoption of beliefs contrary to those Jesus taught. His endorsement of the moral code of the Old Testament and the revelation given through the writers of the New Testament are in agreement. Any teaching that purports to be biblical but does not concur with these documents must be rejected as heretical.

Some reject the teaching of scripture as outmoded and irrelevant today. That position, though foolish, is preferable to this argument that the gospels somehow disagree theologically, giving us the option of adopting doctrines that contradict the teaching of scripture. Such arguments are a lame attempt to spiritualize faulty thinking and elevate personal preferences over the revelation of God in the Bible.

Thanks to technology, you and I are only seconds away from fresh knowledge about the troubles and challenges that plague mankind. Today I learn that 75 are dead in a flood in Brazil. Two are killed and four injured in a Detroit hotel fire. Oil prices are on their way up. A man is found shot to death in Atlanta. Those who killed a Salvation Army major in front of his children are still at large.

Any day’s news diet might include a story about E.-coli tainted beef in Oklahoma, inflation fears by a noted economist, or public library closures in California. This accessibility to an unending diet of troubling news can easily erode hope and foment a spirit of cynicism or pessimism about life in general.

For the apostle Paul, the tough realities were often more personal. He writes of beatings, rejection, shipwreck, slander, and hunger. Yet none of these realities crushed his hope. It flows from his letters, even those written from prison. What enabled him to maintain this kind of equilibrium? What can we learn that can bring us optimism in the face of the litany of troubling stories that come our way 24/7?

In Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, he notes, “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (See 2 Corinthians 4:17-18.) Two principles stand out from these words.

The first principle is one of perspective. Paul insists that the burdens of life are light in reference to the eternal glory that is in store for Christ-followers. That is an uncommon perspective today. We tend to compete with one another to declare that our burdens and trials are more massive than those around us. Paul, despite the hardships we know he suffered, calls them “light” in contrast to what awaits him in eternity. He also calls them “momentary.” Decades of battling cancer, living with a contentious mate, or coping with arthritis may not seem momentary. But set against eternity such trials take on a less formidable look. This perspective of now vs. eternity helps Paul find strength in Christ to endure with hope.

The second principle relates to focus. Paul chooses to fix his eyes on what is unseen, not what is seen. He pulls his eyes away from the television or Internet so that he can gaze at the hand of God in his world. There is grace that feeds over 6 billion people today. There is transformation in the lives of those who take God and his revelation seriously. There is mercy and forgiveness and love flowing from people who have been reconciled to God through Christ and who are intentionally growing in their faith. There is an approaching kingdom in which Christ rules that will supplant the feeble attempts of man to rule over his race. Paul calls these kinds of things the “unseen,” and reminds us that they are eternal.

Paul’s decision to focus on such things is instructive. It reminds us that the flawed and broken things of this world are not forever for the Christian. Those who refuse to yield to the Lordship of Christ in this life will take their brokenness into eternity, into a place of endless disappointment and pain. But for those who follow Christ, there will be a glorious absence of such things. God’s gift to those who follow his Son is a future devoid of injustice, malicious words, greed, failure, betrayal, and suffering. It’s not too early for us to fix our eyes on these unseen realities. As we do, it gives us confidence, stamina, and hope to chase after Christ and his goodness—even in troubles that touch our lives.

In a perfect world, compassion and acts of kindness would be universally applauded and encouraged. But sometimes compassion comes at too high a price in the minds of some. At least it did on one occasion when the aftermath of Jesus miraculous work was more than people were willing to handle.

Matthew chapter 8 records an incident where Jesus and his disciples travel to the region of the Gadarenes. They came to an area people avoided. Violence had made it one of those places you didn’t want to visit—like an inner city neighborhood invested by gangs or corruption. But in this case, the problem came from only two individuals. Matthew describes them as demon-possessed. From other accounts in scripture it appears that they may have been disfigured, loud, incredibly strong, and malevolent. We’re told, “They were so violent no one could pass that way.” (See Matthew 8:28.)

One would assume that anyone who could eliminate the threat of these me would be loved and appreciated. Jesus did just that. He did not destroy these men. Instead he freed them from the evil influence caused by demons. Matthew does not answer many of the questions that come to our minds about the nature, role, power, and limits of demons and their relationship to people. His point seems to demonstrate two qualities of Christ—his power over all the forces of the supernatural world, and his compassion.

This miracle of mercy did have some collateral damage. Instead of tormenting men, the demons turned their attention to a herd of pigs. This caused the pigs to become self-destructive, and all of them died through drowning.

For Christ, two restored men were more valuable than a loss to the pork producers of the region. (You may recall that pork was unclean for orthodox Jews.) But the residents of the region did not see it that way. The owners were no doubt irate about the financial setback. As a result, many leaders in the town came to the shore to meet with Jesus. Respectful of his power, they pleaded him to leave. (See Matthew 8:34.)

One principle I see at work here is that when Jesus improves our lot as humans through his restorative grace and mercy, there may be consequences that are not appreciated.

• When the “black sheep” of the family becomes ethical, moral, and loving it changes the “normal” dysfunctional relationship in ways that some family members may not like.
• When Christ invites us to find life through his death and resurrection, he summons us to serve him as Lord. This may interfere with our vocational aspirations, our checkbook, and our priorities.
• When Jesus forgives our sins he requires that we do the same for others—and this can be one of the most difficult moral challenges we sometimes face in life.

Christ’s compassion will create collateral damage. Because he does not meet us in 2010 just to fix us. He invites us to cultivate a different loyalty, to shape our lives around different values, to treasure the unseen realities of his Father’s kingdom more than the tangible things that compete for our attention. Eternal life in Christ is free—but it’s not cheap. It messes with the things that mean so much to most of us. But in the process it frees us to become what we were designed to be. We may just have to lose a few pigs along the way.