Losing My Religion

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“That’s me in the corner, that’s me in the spotlight, losing my religion.” (R.E.M.)

I heard it again today.  Another high-profile Christian announced he is no longer a believer and has left the faith.  I could mention his name, but he is not the first and sadly will not be the last.

For those of us who still consider ourselves Christians, events like this always raise hard questions.  What leads people into, and in this case, out of, the Christian faith?  Can a person actually lose their salvation?  Can and will they ever return to the fold?  How should we react to the news and toward the person involved?

There are other questions that could also be asked, but I only want to focus on the second part of the first question: Why do some people leave the faith?  It’s a question I’ve been asking a lot recently, and the answers have been interesting.  One person told me he left Christianity because of disappointment with God.  But in coming back to the faith after thirteen years of active rebellion, he saw in retrospect, his disappointment was really just another form of idolatry.  He wanted God to meet Him on his own terms.  My friend didn’t want God to be God.  He wanted God to be who (or what) he wanted Him to be.

Another factor is something I call, “celebrity culture.”  In an age when every aspect of your life can be broadcast across the entire planet in an instant, and be massively responded to by complete strangers, the pressures to conform, perform, and not offend, can be truly overwhelming.  If I don’t want to offend others and try to defend unpopular beliefs, the easiest thing to do is leave them behind.  Pressures like these were certainly there in Paul’s time as well.  Galatians 1:10 makes it clear that the temptation to be a people-pleaser rather than a God-pleaser was and remains a powerful and dangerous force.

I thank the Lord often that He did not make me famous and overly gifted.  Celebrity culture and the possession of exceptional talents can be terrible things to manage when you’ve had few chances to mature and trust in God without the eyes of the world fixed upon you.  Add to that the profound temptations and pressures that come with money, fame, and influence, and you have a perfect combination for performing and playing a character different than yourself, not just on stage but in every aspect of your life.  It was a blessing that I did not become a professor until I was well into my forties.  It gave me time to grow and mature away from any limelight, even a dim one like serving at the East Asia School of Theology in Singapore.  And praise God, I have never had to endure the curse of being rich or famous.

Friends I have talked to who walked away from faith often explained that their journey out of Christianity was related to disillusionment with the Church or with certain Christians as well as embarrassment with certain Christian doctrines and demands.

It happened in Paul’s time as well.  Demas, “having loved this present world,” deserted Paul in his time of greatest need (2 Timothy 4:10).  Others like Hymenaeus and Alexander “made shipwreck of their faith” (1 Timothy 1:19-20) by denying the simple gospel message that “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” (1 Timothy 1:15).

It’s easy to ask the question: Why did we lose so many of the next generation in America?  While many theories have been offered, ultimately, the answer is that we failed to adequately be and make disciples.  Among other cultural temptations, we were taken into and over by the social media tsunami just like everyone else.  We bought the lie that entertainment was a good substitute for sacrificial living in and for Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.

We demanded little of ourselves and others, our youth included.  We “attended” church rather than understanding that we don’t come to church.  We, through our loving sacrificial service under the Lordship of Christ, are the church.

Youth have much more personal power and affluence than previous generations who were far more dependent upon their elders.  This power in the hands of the immature can be a terrible source of temptation to think that they are self-sufficient and have no need for God.  In addition, cultural attitudes towards Christians have radically changed.  In the past, it was socially acceptable to be a Christian and a decent moral human being.  Now, you are considered a pariah, a dangerously judgmental, bigoted, cis-gendered homophobe if you dare to take certain teachings and admonitions of Scripture concerning our sexuality with any significant degree of submissive seriousness.

As Bob Dylan reminded us way back in 1979, every person and every generation must choose whom or what they will serve.  If we claim that we will serve the Lord, we also must be ready to face and live out the hardships and challenges inherent to a life devoted to Him.  His path took Him through daily difficulty, ruthless ridicule, severe suffering, and cruel crucifixion.  But it also led to glorious triumph and resurrection life.  But His path to victory passed through sacrificial humiliation and excruciating death.  As His disciples and followers, we, too, are called to be conformed to His death (Philippians 3:10).

I am not a doomsday prophet.  As always, God is infinitely bigger than this recent mass exodus from the faith of our fathers, but this is still a tragedy on many levels, and God will not be patient or mocked indefinitely.  At some point He will act in righteous judgment against those who openly shake their fists at Him or consider Him irrelevant or dead.

As 2 Peter 3:9-10 hopefully but also ominously warns, “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.  But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and . . . the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed.”  Make no mistake.  Sooner or later, God’s judgment is coming.  If you choose to walk away from Jesus, you will lose a lot more than just your religion.  You will lose your only chance for eternal life and everlasting hope in Him.

We Will All Be Forgotten

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Compared to the number of people who have lived and died in recorded history, precious few names have been preserved.  Nearly all of the well-known names of our time will be rapidly forgotten when the next generation of the rich and (in)famous replace them.

It’s a cruel irony when a name so revered and extolled in one generation becomes a virtual nobody in the next.  After death, well-known people rapidly move from the catalogue of “who’s who” to the list of “who’s that?”

If you need any proof, let me give you a list of people who were once considered famous and important.  Nils Bohlin, Philo Farsworth, Maurice Hilleman, Witold Pilecki, Gavrilo Princep, James Harrison, and Henrietta Lacks.  These names were not concocted—look them up if you want.  They were all important figures in the last century, and the last time I checked, one is still alive today.

Truth be told, most of us live our lives in a desperate and futile attempt to be revered and remembered by those who come after us.  We want an enduring memorial, an unfading plaque, an indestructible stone statue.  Or we convince ourselves that we will somehow live forever through our progeny.

And here is my confession: I know virtually nothing about even my recent ancestors.  While my grandfather worked hard to catalogue his family tree, as I looked at the yellowing pages of the booklet he created, they were little more than names on a page.  And in a few short years, I, also, will only be a name on a page—but only if someone cares enough to become a family historian and record it in a genealogy.

If history tells us anything, it confronts us with reality that our lives are not only fleeting; they are also forgettable.   As such, it is extremely likely that no one will know or remember anything about me (or you) just two or three generations from now.  People move on with their lives and mostly share their own stories with their immediate family and friends.  The vast majority of who we are and were, and what we do and did, will vanish completely in the relentless mists of time.

The Bible speaks to this reality in a variety of ways.  Psalm 90:10 warns us that “The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.”  Ecclesiastes 12:1-7 reminds us to “remember also your Creator in the days of your youth,” before it’s too late and we can no longer see well, work well, eat well, hear well, walk well, or sleep well.  And Psalm 103:15-16, tells us that a person’s “days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.”

Let that sink in for a moment: “It is gone, and its place knows it no more.”  Yes.  We will all be forgotten.

But before we get too dismayed or discouraged about the raw reality of our fleeting and forgettable lives, let me be crystal clear: Just as it says in Psalm 90:12, this is not intended to be depressive so much as it is meant to make us wisely realistic.  Of course, if we believed like the materialist that this life is all that matters and all that anyone lives for, we would have good reason to despair.  If there is no one and nothing beyond this life, we are fooling ourselves if our life’s goal is to make a name for ourselves, to leave behind memorials, houses, lands, big bank accounts, and a lengthy list of descendants.  As Ecclesiastes 12:8 pointedly says to all who give their lives to such vain pursuits: “Meaningless!  Meaningless!” says the Teacher.  “Everything is meaningless!”

But in magnificent and glorious contrast, the message of the gospel is equally clear.  Our lives, though fully forgotten by those who come after us in this life, still matter and have meaning to God.  He never forgets, and if we trust in Jesus, He will gather us to Himself when our momentary lives are over.  We will not only be remembered (Psalm 105:8), we will be embraced (Luke 15:20), celebrated (Luke 15:23), commended (Matthew 25:21, 23), and completely known in love for all eternity (1 Corinthians 13:12).

Again, let that really sink in for a moment.  If we know Jesus, the God of the universe knows us, loves us, and remembers us and will continue to do so forever and ever.  Herein lies our unwavering purpose, undeserved wonder, and unending hope.

Should Christians engage in “culture wars?”

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I have never been a big fan of fighting what has come to be called the “culture wars” in America.  I find moral politics and legislative haggling to be tiresome and messy.  But even more, these cultural conflicts can become for the church a terrible distraction and barrier to keeping Jesus Christ and His gospel our central concern. Recently, however, with the rapid rise of power politics and the overt legal threats brought against the free exercise of religion, I have been rethinking the role of political and legislative power.

The tension here is that many Christians see the use of political and legal power as a misunderstanding, misuse, and distortion of divine power and priorities.  To some extent, that is certainly true.  But in another very real sense, when enforced policies and political power moves become matters of causing harm, then at what point is the Christian obligated to use means of power—political power included—to protect the innocent and promote the common good?

There’s no doubt that at some important level, Christians have a responsibility to protect human life.  Proverbs 24:11 says, “Rescue those who are being taken away to death; hold back those who are stumbling to the slaughter.”  And as Genesis 1:26 makes clear, as gendered divine image bearers, we are also responsible to lovingly steward and rule over God’s creation in ways that honor Him.

In my mind, many of the recent moves to demand greater access to and funding for abortion alongside the full affirmation of the LGBT+ agenda as well as the active promotion of medical interventions to “transition” youth who are struggling with gender dysphoria are good examples of areas where real and lasting harm is being done to the people directly involved in these decisions and lifestyles.

You can call it a “culture war,” or something else, but when real and active harm is being done to people, then beyond active avenues of persuasion, all legal and political means should be used to protect those who would otherwise be harmed, even if that might mean protecting some people from themselves.  This is where libertarian freedom fails to recognize that in a world suffering the consequences of the fall, unbridled liberty is an open invitation to the harm of self and others.

In short, we are all sinners, and sometimes we need to be protected not only from others, but also from ourselves.  And whether or not we admit it, there is a cultural and spiritual battle being waged.  This battle is not merely a set of abstract arguments for a vision of what constitutes the common good.  It is a concrete battle being waged in real time and real space.  Right now, specific people are being harmed and becoming casualties in the process.

Christians who claim to love God and His justice should not turn a blind, indifferent, or fearful eye away from these real-life tragedies currently unfolding before us.  We must wisely and appropriately use whatever power God has graciously given us to humbly, lovingly, and courageously fight for those who need to be protected from the devilish and destructive deceptions and deeds of our time.  As G. K. Chesterton reminds us, “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”

Trigger Warning! Communication in a “Woke” Culture

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The term, “woke,” was originally intended to help people better understand the ways in which racism negatively contributes to social systems and human relationships.  The “woke” person had awakened from their moral slumber and was willing to admit wrong-doing and identify the ways in which their “white privilege” (meaning majority-culture status in the western context) had hindered the flourishing of minorities in positions of poverty, oppression, and weakness.

More recently, the term “woke” has taken on a decisively disdainful and pejorative connotation, referring to those who have been taken in by a “progressive” view of the world that sees almost everything through the lens of critical race theory, interpreting society through postmodern Marxist and racial categories.

A lot could be said about the original meaning of this term as well as the ways it has been changed into one of ridicule and derision.  But regardless of whether you want to disparage or defend the term, something I have observed with those who consider themselves to be “woke” in the positive sense is that they tend to demand a level of sensitivity in public and interpersonal communication that borders on the absurd.

In short, for many, a passionate commitment to the principles of woke culture tends to destroy open communication.  Every conversation, if not perfectly crafted, becomes a minefield of potential triggers for producing pain, anger, and even outrage.  The problem is, very few conversations are perfectly crafted, and spontaneous conversations in particular are virtually never carefully constructed.

In the end, what was intended to create safe communication and better human relationships has created significant barriers to them instead.  Genuine intimacy requires communication, and communication often results in misunderstanding and hurt feelings.  But without communication and without a willingness to take the risk of being offended or offending someone else, friendships—at least in any meaningful form—become virtually impossible.  Given enough time and enough talk, someone is bound to offend and be offended.  Rather than joyous and sometime spirited exchange, communication becomes an endless string of trivial politically correct statements, polite critiques, and mutual virtue signaling.

Making “non-offense” the goal of relationships is essentially pushing communication to a level of nothing more than cliché, insignificance, and banality.  If you don’t want to offend or be offended in friendships in particular and conversations in general, my advice is simple: stop talking and stop listening to others.  It’s your safest bet.  But it’s also the surest path to isolating dehumanization and closing yourself off from the people and things you were created for and need the most.  You will be unable to love or be loved by anyone, God included, who, in His infinite holiness, has the potential to be the ultimate interpersonal offender.

As C. S. Lewis so wisely reminds us in The Four Loves, “To love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements.  Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.  But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change.  It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.  To love is to be vulnerable.”

When applied to our relationship with God, if He is genuinely righteous and loving (He is), He will frequently say offensive things to the hearts and minds of sinners.  And as sinners, we need to be offended if we are to escape the ever-present and destructive dangers of our sin and pride.  Avoiding offense in a sin-stained world such as ours is to invite greater, not lesser, damage along the way.

We were created to be in relationship, to communicate and to listen to others as they communicate with us. But in the midst of that need, we take the risk not only of being hurt and offended, but also of hurting and offending others.  It requires the hard work of granting and receiving forgiveness, but if we are willing to risk going deeper, sometimes offending and sometimes being offended along the way, then—and only then—can we enjoy the precious privilege of loving and being loved by God and one another.  And that’s always a risk worth taking.

In this context of communication, God is simultaneously the ultimate offender and the ultimate consoler, the one who comes alongside us in our shame and our pain and calls us into personally challenging but infinitely loving and healing fellowship with Him.  As Hosea 6:1 reminds us: “Come, let us return to the Lord.  He has torn us to pieces, but he will heal us; he has injured us, but he will bind up our wounds.”

“Women’s Healthcare” Leaves Dad Out

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It takes both a male and a female to create (using the euphemisms of the pro-abortion lobby) a “product of conception,” a “fetus,” and a “ball of cells.”  Where, then, is the male in all of this talk about “women’s healthcare” and “reproductive rights?”  Does he have anything to do with it?

Indeed, he is either ignored, exonerated from responsibility, or worse yet, actively involved or simply coercively complicit in the “termination” of the pregnancy.  But let’s not play with words here.  Let’s call abortion what it is: the active killing of an innocent, helpless, and voiceless human being.  No amount of ideological word-games about it being “healthcare” for women or that a child only becomes human when it is born or wanted by another can change the fundamental nature of a baby in the womb.  It is a child by virtue of biological fact and theological endowment.

In a less “progressive” era, when a man impregnated a woman, he was expected, alongside the mother, to take responsibility for the child she and he had created together.  Men who refused or ran away were rightly scorned and openly shamed as selfish deadbeats, cowardly dads, and irresponsible fathers.

So-called “shotgun weddings” happened precisely because men were expected (and sometimes threatened by the pregnant mother’s family with a shotgun—thus the name) to be responsible and care for the mother and child.

If my grandmother and grandfather were living in and had embraced the ideologies of this more “progressive” and “modern” age, instead of their more “backward” and “puritanical” era, I would not exist.   My grandfather impregnated my grandmother out of wedlock.  When they found out, they quickly married one another.  Six months later, my mother was born.  Just before dying within three months of each other, they celebrated their 73rd wedding anniversary.

The story is the same with David with Bathsheba.  For all intents and purposes, Solomon should never have been born since his older brother was conceived in the context of adultery and murder.  But it is through Solomon that the messianic lineage comes down to Jesus, a family tree that also includes a brazen prostitute.  Thank God, He has a way of taking immorality and sin, redeeming it and making it into something beautiful and good.

Men are supposed to care about and be committed to those they have sex with.  They are also meant to take full responsibility for the consequences of that sexual union, especially when it results in the conception of a precious and priceless child.

Framing abortion as merely a matter of “women’s healthcare” is not only deceptive and fallacious, it is tragic for society, lethal for unborn children, harmful to pregnant women, and insulting and demeaning to would-be fathers who instead should be encouraged and expected to step up and take full responsibility for the child he and she have conceived together.

Is Critical Race Theory just a tool?

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I’ve heard it a lot: “I do not agree with all the tenets of Critical Race Theory (CRT), but it can be a helpful tool for analyzing the problem of racism in our culture.”  In their book, The Critical Dilemma, Sawyer and Shenvi put it this way: “Christians and non-Christians insist that CRT is a neutral analytic tool.”  Presumably, it can be used for either good or evil.

In one sense, of course, this is true.  If I have a hammer, for example, I can use it in several different ways, some constructive, others destructive, and still others more creatively.  Regardless, the hammer is primarily designed to direct strong force upon very a focused location.  This is what makes hammers good for pounding in nails.  It also makes them good for shattering windows, pulverizing hard substances, and destroying fragile objects.  The point is that the tool is designed to achieve a limited number of outcomes, even though it can be employed in a potentially limitless number of situations.  Depending on the context, the purpose can be productive, destructive, or both.  In this regard, the hammer appears to be relatively neutral, and it’s use (or misuse) depends on who wields it and how.

In another sense, however, this notion of neutrality is incomplete and even potentially dangerous, because tools are not strictly neutral in terms of their design and purpose.  Tools are designed to solve certain problems or achieve certain ends in specified ways and consequently tend to have limited functionality by design.  If a tool like CRT is only designed to look for a certain kind of problem (e.g., systemic racism) it will be far from neutral since it has very specific designs and already assumes that what it is looking for is insidiously and ubiquitously present.

Getting back to our hammer example, if all you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail—even when it isn’t.  If I want a board to become smooth, I would do better to subject it to a good sanding than a firm beating with a hammer.  In short, you should choose the right sort of tool for the right sort of problems.  Otherwise, you end up doing more harm than good.  Thus, an accurate assessment of the specific problem or problems you are facing should correspond to an accurate design and selection of tools to solve those specific issues.  In short, how we define our problems will very often determine the nature of our diagnostics and proposed solutions.  It will also largely determine the type of tool you create, select, and utilize to resolve it.

Just as diagnostic tools in medicine often require a battery of tests covering a wide range of possible problems, adequate cultural diagnostic tools should also seek to identify more comprehensive possible explanations for what social problems exist and why.  If the only thing I am looking for is Covid-19, but my patient has a different and perhaps much more serious and hidden illness like liver cancer, my Covid-19 test kit will not help me much, even if they actually have the disease.  In the same way, without a broader set of diagnostic concerns to examine the problems of society and the reasons for them, we can end up doing more harm than good, even undermining our credibility and ability to identify real problems (like racism) that plague our world today.  It’s not that CRT is wrong about its search for racism.  Racism, both systemic and interpersonal, is certainly a problem in our time as it has been in all times and cultures since the fall.

However, when you assume in advance, as CRT does, that racism is widespread, systemic, and largely unconscious in majority populations of society—simply because they are in the majority and because there are social disparities, you will be looking to support your preconceived theory and predetermined conclusion that the system is widely and inherently racist and therefore evil.  As Ibram X. Kendi bluntly declares, “When I see racial disparities, I see racism.”  But simply assuming and asserting widespread inherent systemic racism, rather than adequately demonstrating its presence becomes part of the problem.  Everything in the system starts to look like systemic racism, whether or not it is actually there.  Even worse, you tend to start creating racism where it previously didn’t exist to any significant degree in order to justify the ongoing and wider use and application of your tool.

This is not just ridiculously reductionistic, it is simply fallacious.  It demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of human nature, God’s creation, and what racism is and isn’t.  And it does almost nothing to solve the real roots of racism, systemic or otherwise.  To be sure, racial disparity might indicate racism, but it does not do so inevitably or inherently.  Whether or not it does is not based on the disparity itself but is often the result of several other factors that must also be honestly and accurately considered before any simplistically dogmatic conclusions like this are made.

As economist and social philosopher Thomas Sowell has often shown in his books like Social Justice Fallacies, more comprehensive and honest societal analysis takes time and must give attention to nuance and multiple layers of social realities.  It also may point back to the people involved and highlight and indict them of their own sin and the ways in which they themselves may have contributed to the disparities that are present.  Is it racism?  Is it laziness?  Is it mental illness?  Is it fatherlessness?  Is it generational dependency?  Is it a genuine lack of opportunity that is largely unrelated to racial issues but a result of other systemic factors like poor educational instruction, for example?  Is it the adoption of legitimate but very different social values that put the community at a disadvantage in an industrial and digital age?  Is it some, or all, or none of the above factors?  What is really going on here that is leading to and perpetuating the disparities?

Thus, to say there is no racism in American social systems (there is) is just as naïve and wrong as it is to say virtually everything in the system is racist (it isn’t).  But when CRT tries to argue that all disparities are due to systemic racism, it reveals a hidden fact that as a sociological tool it is primarily ideologically (versus empirically) driven.  As a result, any honest examination of all factors involved in a situation will very likely be done inadequately, if at all.  This will produce a very selective history and set of examples that only serve to confirm the theory (called confirmation bias) but one which does not necessarily take all relevant aspects into account.  Consequently, this produces a truncated diagnosis at best and a wrong and harmful one at worst.

CRT remains attractive because it points to a truth that is very real: Racism remains a problem in the contemporary age, just as it has been a problem ever since sin entered the world.  But as a tool of social analysis, it is not only insufficient for explaining the true scope and nature of society’s problems, according to Shenvi and Sawyer, it makes false “sweeping assumptions about human beings, purpose, lived experience, meaning morality, knowledge, and identity that inevitably bring it into conflict with Christianity.”  As a result, it produces easy villains and heroes in the face of several convoluted and complex factors contributing to the profound problems of our time.  In so doing, it offers fallacious and overly simplistic explanations and solutions which often end up hindering and hurting those they claim they are trying to help.  That is the tragedy of choosing the wrong tool (CRT) for a need that remains and requires a viable solution—the identification and eradication of unjust systemic and personal racism in our time.

God Paints in Places We’ll Never See

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When the James Webb telescope started sending photos back to earth, scientists and laymen alike were astonished by some of the beauty and magnificence of what they were seeing in outer space.  Things previously unobservable and unseen by human eyes were suddenly coming into focus with an unimaginable clarity and indescribable beauty.

It is just one more example of the adage, “God paints in places we’ll never see.”  This cuts against the increasingly common view illustrated by the question sometimes raised in basic philosophy courses.  It goes something like this: “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it.  Is there any sound?”  This could only be asked with a straight face by a society that has become deeply enamored and captivated by subjectivism.  In this view, almost all of reality is believed to be contained within (and even generated by) the conscious awareness of the individual.  It is assumed that if I am not experiencing or aware of something, it does not really matter or perhaps does not even exist.  Only my direct experience of something makes it real or meaningful.

Getting back to examples closer to home, there are light spectrums (like infrared and ultraviolet) that humans cannot see unaided, and yet when they are revealed with the help of modern technology, they prove to harbor incredible symmetry and beauty.  There are patterns on flowers, for example, that bees are designed to see and be attracted to that are invisible to us.

There are magnificent creatures and plants and microscopic organisms and formations that until very recently were wholly unknown to us.  And there are very likely many more we know nothing about.  Astonishingly, we sometimes hear the claim that this proves God does not exist since they appear to have no purpose in terms of the betterment of human life.

The assumption here is that we are the absolute center of God’s purposes and plans.  Biblically speaking, this is patently false.  God exists for His own sake and glory.  He delights in things we will (and perhaps, should) never have access to or understand in this life.  If this were not the case, then I would think He was a very small God indeed, likely a god of our own creation and imaginative design.

To the utter contrary, the size and grandeur of the universe, alongside the gloriously hidden aspects of creation’s intricate beauty and design, point very obviously to the unfathomable majesty, glory, creativity, and power of the God that we know and serve.  He is no provincial God.  He is the Creator and Lord of all!  And He makes gorgeous things for no other reason than to lovingly display and reflect the majestic magnificence of His unrivaled, inescapable, indescribable beauty.

The only logical response is to worship in utter amazement and humble thanksgiving for the glorious grace of this gratuitous demonstration of creativity, beauty, and brilliance.  May we therefore stand in astonished awe and overwhelmed wonder before this incomparable Master Craftsman and unsurpassed and unsurpassable artistic Genius, our Creator, our Lord, our Savior, and our God.

Reflections at Sixty

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I recently turned sixty.  A lot of water has passed beneath the bridge of my life with what feels like dizzying speed.  How could I have lived six decades already?  Where in the world has all the time gone?

As I reflect, I am struck first and foremost by a deep sense of gratitude.  God has blessed me with so many precious people who have deeply impacted me: parents, family, friends, wife, children, and grandchildren.  I have been given so much more than I deserved through the years: food, clothing, shelter, and health.  There have been incredible and undeserved opportunities to serve God and help others to come to know and grow in their walks with Him all over the world.

Of course, there are many regrets.  I openly acknowledge my many shortcomings, failures, character flaws, and sins.  I wish I were more patient, more humble, more kind, more emotionally engaged and mature.  I wish I were a better listener, asked more and better questions, had a greater sense of teachability and curiosity.

I somehow thought I would be significantly further along in my personal and spiritual maturity by now.  And while I have known many precious moments with Him, I believed that walking closely with Jesus would be easier and sweeter by now than it actually is.  My Christian life is still a daily struggle of wrestling with sin, character flaws, and bad habits.

Beyond this, there have been many deep heartaches and profound disappointments.  Some family and friends have disheartened me by walking away from the faith.  I’ve also caught myself asking: What has my life meant and accomplished?  I had big dreams in my youth.  Have I really followed Jesus whole-heartedly?  Has my life truly mattered and made a difference, making a lasting impact that genuinely honors God?

Nevertheless, in the face of all this, God’s goodness and faithfulness has been undeniable and unwavering.  I see without question the kindness, grace, and patience of a compassionate God who continues to love, forgive, and provide for me a life I never dreamed possible and the privilege to be used by Him in ways I never deserved or could have imagined.

This life has been, is, and always will be, a gift.  And now that I am fast-approaching the increasingly evident tail-end of it, Joe Rigney’s words hold a special significance: “Those at the beginning and the end tell those of us in the middle: This was you: weak, frail, dependent, and needy.  This is you: weak, frail, dependent, and needy.  This will be you: weak, frail, dependent, and needy.  You are a vapor, here today and gone tomorrow.  And your life is not your own.  It is a gift.”

Thank You, Lord, for creating, loving, and saving me.  Thank You for continuing to transform and conform me to the image of Your beloved Son.  Thank You for graciously giving me sixty years of life.  And thank You for the astonishing hope of eternal life in Christ that enables me to look to the future with unspeakable joy versus devastating dread or deluded denial.  You truly are a gracious, kind, and loving God!

Where is Jesus?

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As part of our yearly Christmas traditions, our family erected a Nativity display, complete with a wooden stable, plastic barn animals, shepherds, an angel, three wisemen, Mary and Joseph, and baby Jesus in a manger.  One year, however, baby Jesus disappeared.  Although we searched high and low, He seemed to have vanished into thin air.  When Christmas was over, we reluctantly packed up the stable, animals, and other important figures in the Christmas story, but baby Jesus, who was supposed to be the central figure of the scene, was still missing.

Sad to say, our family’s experience of losing Jesus has become a fitting metaphor for many of our lives at Christmas.  We pull out all the seasonal décor, attend holiday parties, anticipate family gatherings, and make lists for how many gifts and cards we will be giving and sending to others.  On top of all this, we are besieged with invasive displays and advertisements urging us to buy more and more things that promise to give us the joy and contentment for which we hope and long.

Of course, these promises are never fulfilled.  There always seems to be a bigger and better version of what we have purchased by the time the next Christmas season rolls around.  As a result, we frankly find ourselves exhausted and relieved when the whole holiday season is finally over.  And when it comes to Jesus, the real reason for the season, He often gets lost and forgotten in the midst of all the clutter, commotion, and clamor.

While we are busy hanging lights, we forget that Jesus is the light of the world (John 8:12).  Feeling the pressure to give everyone important to us a thoughtful and worthwhile gift, we forget that Jesus is the greatest gift of all (John 3:16).  We struggle not to overindulge and overeat, forgetting that Jesus is the bread of life (john 6:35) and the fountain of living water (John 7:37-38).  In all the hustle and bustle, we forget that Jesus promises rest (Matthew 11:28-30) and peace (John 14:27) for all who turn to and trust in Him.

Instead of finding Christ at Christmas, we find ourselves over-stimulated, overworked, overfed, and overwhelmed.  As Christians, if this is how we experience Christmas, perhaps we need to ask ourselves an important question: In the midst of all that is Christmas, where is Jesus?  Have I somehow missed or obscured Him in all the traditions and expectations, new and old, that now surround this increasingly hectic and frenzied season?  Have I sought to keep Him at the center of it all, or have I let other things conceal, crowd Him out, and push Him away?

Fortunately, the aforementioned story has a happy ending.  We never gave up hope that baby Jesus might appear someday, and several months later, He was found safely tucked away in my youngest daughter’s dresser drawer where she had laid and then forgotten about Him.  We restored Him to His rightful place of centrality in our creche, and all was right with the world again.

Similarly, every Christmas, we have an important choice to make concerning Jesus.  Because of all the distractions and expectations crowding Him out and drawing us away from the real reason for the season, we must decide: Will we let Him be lost in all the trappings and trimmings of this increasingly secular and market-driven holiday, or will we, like the wisemen and shepherds long ago, make Him the central focus of our interest by continuing to seek Him and joyously make Him known to all who will listen?

Lex rex or rex lex?

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There’s a Latin phrase that has entered into the modern lexicon of legal lore.  It’s sometimes framed in the form of a question: Lex rex or rex lex?  A loose English translation might be, “Is the law king or is the king the law?”  In short, does the rule of law stand above even the most powerful people of society, or do the most powerful people in society stand above the law?

One of the long-standing principles of legal theory in the United States of America was what has come to be known as the “rule of law.”  In short, no one is above the law, not kings, not presidents, not even the lawmakers themselves.  All are subject to the rule of (an ideally just and well-crafted) law.

Far more common in the history of the world has been “rex lex,” the idea that whoever holds the power not only makes the laws but also stands above them.  That is to say, the king, the powerful, the legislators, are the creators of and therefore not subject to the laws of the land.  They only enact and enforce them when it is to their personal or social advantage.

Of course, even in the US, as the recent Hunter Bidon pardon illustrates, the temptation to employ a “rex lex” attitude is unfortunately alive and well.  To provide another recent example, when Roe v. Wade was overturned by the ruling in the Dobbs v. Jackson case, several abortion laws put in place before the 1973 Roe v. Wade ruling were presumably supposed to be reinstated and enforced.  As a result, some state attorney generals in certain states with anti-abortion—pro-life is a better way to frame this—laws stated they will simply not enforce these laws.

In addition, no less than eighty-three prosecutors from states across the nation issued a joint statement pledging to undercut any state laws criminalizing abortion, pledging to “stand together in our firm belief that prosecutors have a responsibility to refrain from using limited criminal legal system resources to criminalize personal medical decisions.”  They continued: “As such, we decline to use our offices’ resources to criminalize reproductive health decisions and commit to exercise our well-settled discretion and refrain from prosecuting those who seek, provide, or support abortions.”

Notice the use of language, “reproductive health” and no mention of unborn children losing their lives here.  The statement reflects a moral code that places individual choice above taking responsibility for demanding sexual freedom that sometimes results in an unwanted child.

In the past, if you didn’t like a law, you tried to argue why that law was bad, and perhaps tried to get elected as a legislator so that you could change the law.  Now, it seems, legal activism has become a law unto itself, enacting legal action to prevent the enforcement of laws that were legally and properly created.  In the past, the judicial branch was only meant to enforce laws, not to make them or to ignore them.  They didn’t have to like or agree with the laws, but as lawyers and judges, they were put into positions of power to fairly and properly enforce them, not to overrule or ignore them.

When the governor of Florida suspended the attorney general for refusing to uphold the rule of law (because he disagreed with the law), this same attorney general invoked a lawsuit to retain his job as a duly elected official.  It’s rich irony indeed when an attorney invokes the rule of law in an attempt to defend and maintain his refusal to uphold the rule of law—and all this because he disagrees with the law.  “Rex lex” or “lex rex?”  Which is it?

Some justify this on the grounds that an old law is no longer a relevant law.  Laws must be updated with the changing times.  There’s some truth to this, of course.  It would be foolish to retain laws concerning the proper handling of horse-drawn buggies on New York city streets, for example, in an age of autos and buses.

At the same time, suggesting that foundational moral principles like, “You shall not kill” require major revision is to suggest that these things are nothing more than culturally relative ideals.  Our age has come of age.  We know better than our unenlightened ancestors who were forced to keep and raise their “products of conception,” even if they were unexpected and unwanted.  This is what progress is all about, after all.  But is this moral progress or moral regress?

All of this illustrates that there are (at least) two fundamentally different worldviews standing behind each perspective, views that have sweeping implications for what it means to be human and the significance and source of the law in society.

Is the codification of moral laws grounded in the unchanging character of God as revealed in Scripture, or are they grounded in the changing tides of human moral reasoning through the passage of time?  If the latter, then “rex lex” not only makes sense, it is the only logical option.  Whoever is in power lately determines right and wrong for everyone under their rule.  Might is right.

If, however, God stands far above all rule and authority and power and dominion (Ephesians 1:21), then “lex rex,” the moral law is king, because that law is founded upon and grounded in who and what He is, the unrivaled Sovereign Almighty King who is holy, righteous, and good.  As such, His might, and His might alone, is right, for He will “judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity” (Psalm 98:9).