Category Archives: Reflections on Life

From Heroic to Demonic: The Defacement and Destruction of Memorials

56401737af6c43a89576d1b493c59027_18In recent days, we have seen widespread defacing and destroying of many local and national statues and monuments.  It would seem that many names and faces of the past are being subjected to a barrage of contemporary scorn, derision, and opposition.

To be sure, some of these memorials have enshrined people and ideals that probably should never have been celebrated in the first place.  They are, in many ways, reminders of a time of racist oppression and godless subjugation.  As such, an honest admission of wrongly hallowing past evil-doers and the need for corrective action to be taken are positive signs of repentance and restitution.  Perhaps some could be moved to museums and we could learn from their wrongdoings and shortcomings, while still recognizing their positive societal contributions.

But having said this, just how stringent should our standards of enshrinement and retention be?  And when past heroes become disgraced by the changing winds of time, what contemporary criteria are we using to disgrace and discredit them?  One problem with judging the past through the lens of the present is that the blind spots of our age can become the embarrassments and sources of shame in the generations that follow.

One example comes quickly to mind: How will future generations judge our confused obsessions with gender and sexuality?  I suspect, for example, that many of the things we find so noble and defensible in these arenas might well be deemed downright decadent and devious by future generations.

Judging the past with criteria from the present is not wholly illegitimate, but it should always be done with circumspect humility and caution versus a bold and reckless sense of self-righteous indignation.  The standards with which we judge the past will often come back to haunt us in the future.  Our contemporary heroes can just as easily be weighed and found wanting in the scales of future generations since many of the standards are based on the ever-changing spirit of the age.  As such, what is considered heroic in one era is often deemed demonic in the next.

All of this highlights the fact that we should be careful and calculated when we start defacing and destroying long-standing historical monuments.  In a recent example, the Black Student Union and the (rather ironically named) Student Inclusion Coalition are now calling for the removal of a statue of Abraham Lincoln from the campus of the University of Wisconsin, Madison.  To be fair, Lincoln was not a perfect man and he only became a Christian later in life.  He had to make hard decisions and compromise politically to preserve a fragile union that all Americans (regardless of race) still benefit from today.  Over the course of his life and career, there was plenty to find offensive and questionable.  After all, we are all deficient and if scrutinized closely enough, will be crushed by the demand for perfection.  The only ones who can stand up to the standard of flawlessness are figments of our own imaginations.  And even these figments will compete with one another if they are not grounded in a transcendent standard of determining who or what is truly perfect.

So, if you are looking for dirt on someone, rest assured, look hard and long enough and you will find it since we are all sinners.  No one but Jesus has led a perfect life, and even He gets a bad rap for the misuse and abuse of His name amongst His followers.

In the end, people are not perfect, but they can add value and teach us important lessons, nonetheless. There is a limit here, of course.  We cannot and should not immortalize just anyone at all.  But we can appreciate those whose lives were worthy of emulation and appreciation for the ways they helped change the world for the better, even if there were things for which they should be ashamed.

It is widely known, for example, that Martin Luther King, Jr. was an adulterer.  His honorable work for civil rights, however, overshadows this immoral aspect of his life.  It doesn’t hurt him much right now since adultery (and fornication, I might add) is not currently considered especially immoral when weighed against the sins of racism and racially-motivated murder, for example.  Every generation has its pet moral outrages regarding certain sins and its blind spots and passes toward others.  In our time, extra-marital sexual expression is deemed more akin to authenticity and normalcy than it is to unfaithfulness and betrayal.

Again, regardless of how you assess his sexual lifestyle, Martin Luther King, Jr. was so much more than that.  He was a hero for his moral courage, his persistent vision of equality, his brilliant wisdom in organizing and standing up peacefully and non-violently against the vicious racism of his time, alongside his willingness to suffer and die for what he knew was right.  We should not overlook his serious flaws, but neither should we overlook his many virtues simply because he was also an imperfect sinner.

One of the beautiful features of scripture is its deep honesty about the multifaceted character of its heroes.  The Apostle Peter was a loud-mouthed, boastful, and cowardly betrayer.  King David was a murderer and adulterer.  But the Bible also tells us what these men (and many more like them) became through the process of humble repentance and glorious redemption.  Their colossal failures did not end up defining them wholesale.  God was able to not just see beyond their sins but transform them for His greater glory.

The irony of all this is that no matter who we choose to glorify and remember, every statue and monument will ultimately fall prey to the eroding sands of time.  Percy Shelley’s haunting poem, “Ozymandias,” poignantly remind us of this:

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell its sculpture that well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:

“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!”

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Rest assured, time will pulverize into powder every attempt to immortalize the merely momentary.  And yet, there is hope.  You will be permanently remembered if you surrender your life to the Risen One who was nailed to a cross to die for your sins and your failures.  And when you trust in Him, He will forgive you and transform your life.  Not only that, at the end of the age He “will also give [you] a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it” (Revelation 2:17).  That stone and that name will never fade away and are reserved throughout eternity for all who love and trust in Jesus.

Am I a racist?

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Growing up in the USA in the 1960’s, because of men like Martin Luther King, Jr., there was a lot of talk about racial equality and the Civil Rights Movement.  I’m deeply grateful that my parents and the church we attended repeatedly and insistently taught that all people are made in God’s image and are of infinite value and fully (not separately) equal.  More than fifty years later, it’s easy to forget that those were also times of deep anger, unrest, and social upheaval.  Looking back now, it feels like in some ways like we have made real progress while in others, we have only come full circle.

No matter how you assess the contemporary situation, racism is much more than conceptual, theoretical, and systemic.  For many, it is deeply emotional and personal.  Sadly, when talking about racism, one of the first things that must be done is to define it since some increasingly popular definitions are not only unhelpful and unproductive, they are downright deceptive and dangerous.

For example, many today suggest it is impossible to be a racist if you live in a context of poverty, oppression, and discrimination.  The assumption is that racism is inherently tied to power, and only those with social power and influence can possibly be racist in the truest sense of the term.

In response, I would suggest that while it is certainly easier for the powerful to express and uphold certain aspects of racism, especially systemic ones, this does not mean that racism, properly understood, is confined to social systems and influential segments of society alone.  Racism involves more significant moral elements like attitudes of moral superiority, hatred, and distrust.  Mindsets like these are not confined solely to those who are influential and well-connected.

Pride in anyone leads to and reinforces a sense of moral superiority.  For example, it is just as easy to believe, “I am morally better than them because although I am colored, poor, oppressed, and powerless, they are immoral because they are rich, oppressive, powerful, and white,” as it is to claim, “I am morally better than them because I am white, smart, and hard-working, and ambitious while they are they are colored, lazy, stupid, and unenterprising.”  One glories in their victimhood and difficulties, the other in their white privilege, but neither can claim an absence of racial or classist pride.

In addition, hatred gives anyone and everyone a sense of power and ability to vilify and reject those who are different than themselves, regardless of their socioeconomic or political situation.  To suggest that the poor and oppressed are merely innocent victims of the powerful, unable to exercise any personal and social influence at all, is not only to dehumanize them but also to obscure the potential for racism that cuts across all social lines and lurks within the soul of every human being.  It’s also a sure-fire way to harbor and justify self-righteous feelings of resentment and ill-will toward any and all who are different, especially those possessing greater power, opportunity, and authority.

Ultimately, feelings of hatred and suspicion lead to a deep sense of moral superiority as well as an active rejection of those who are different from oneself.  Again, racism among the powerful and privileged is much more noticeable and systemically impactful, and that’s an enormous problem that must be actively addressed and redressed.  But if those with less obvious positions of power refuse to recognize the potential presence of pride and hatred in their own hearts, the opportunity for real change at all levels of society will ultimately be lost because at its heart, the solution to racism is both theological and societal.  The reason is that while societal structures and systems must be reviewed and revised, racism can only be holistically eradicated through an active pursuit of reconciled relationships characterized by mutual forgiveness, love, and respect, values that are deeply theological.

When calls for solutions to racism are made, I frequently hear that racism is both systemic and learned. While undeniably true, a centrally important third aspect frequently gets left out, namely the natural or innate aspect.  In short, because of sin, racism is inherently easy for each and every one of us, regardless of our race or socioeconomic status.  Thus, racism manifests itself both socially and personally.  It is both learned and intrinsic, external and internal.  Failure to admit and recognize all (and not just some) of these aspects will ultimately result in incomplete solutions to a larger set of problems.

Far beyond the systemic and learned aspects of racism, we naturally gravitate toward and are most comfortable spending time with people who look, act, think, and talk like us.  Taking the time and making the effort to understand and befriend those who are different—simply because we are all human beings made in God’s image possessing infinite value—involves constant sacrifice, inconvenience, risk, and discomfort.  It is something we must remind ourselves and others of continually.  And we also must actively and intentionally move toward, listen to, and even embrace those with whom we disagree and who are very different from us.  As we do, in the midst of the difficulties and discomforts, we will find deep joy and mutual enrichment as new friendships are forged, new understandings are found, and new pathways of growth and change are fashioned.

Throughout this process, each and every one of us should be willing to keep honestly asking this hard but important question: Am I a racist?  The possibility of being or becoming one is always there beneath the surface, whether we are rich or poor, black or white, powerful or weak.  Why?  Because we all have the capacity and tendency to hate, belittle, and diminish the value of those who are different from us and strongly prefer the ones most like us.  Self-admission of this is a helpful place to begin in the process of actively moving toward real solutions to racism.  In this way, people can not only be taught against racism, they can also work with tirelessly humility toward reconciliation and reparation at all levels of society—social, political, economic, educational, and personal.  But reconciliation is fundamentally a theological concept with a theological grounding.  It takes people transformed by the gospel of Jesus who have first been reconciled to God to model that radical reconciliation with one another.

Thus, the goal for Christians is not mere recognition and affirmation of equality for all but the vigorous pursuit and realization of interracial community and communion.  And this can only happen if we first humbly listen and seek to understand, entering into the pain, anger, and grief of those who have suffered from the ravages of racism.  After that, we can more compassionately join in and work for viable solutions and lasting change together.  Without true compassion and participation, we tend to only feel pity and attempt to alleviate our guilt by making token overtures that cost us very little and involve us only minimally.  Real and lasting change requires getting our hands dirty, making real sacrifices, and taking genuine risks for the sake of the greater wellbeing of others.  If Christians are unwilling to make these kinds of sacrificial choices, others will, but they will do so in promotion of very different visions for what justice and change should look like and how they should be brought about.

In closing, I often hear the phrase, “But we’ve come so far already.”  And I think we can affirm that real progress has been made, but have we come far enough?  One of the great myths of enlightenment rational liberalism is that social progress is cumulative, unidirectional, and inevitable.  Real social progress is never any of these things.  It takes constant work and intentional effort to push against the ever-swelling tides of racism, classism, tribalism, and all kinds of other sinful “isms” that are present not only in the hearts of the powerful but also in the heart of every man, woman, and child.  These are the things that tear us and our societies apart, and unfortunately, are still at work in our midst.  As Martin Luther King, Jr. reminded us, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”  Racial injustice, inequality, and discrimination remain to this day both within and around us.  And as long as they remain, we have still not come far enough.

Am I a disciple of Jesus?

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I just watched the film, “Tortured for Christ,” and many years ago read the book of the same title.  It’s about Romanian pastor, Richard Wurmbrand.  Opposing the Communist regime, he was imprisoned for fourteen years and repeatedly and brutally beaten for his refusal to forsake his Christian faith.

In his own words, “It was strictly forbidden to preach to other prisoners.  It was understood that whoever was caught doing this received a severe beating.  A number of us decided to pay the price for the privilege of preaching, so we accepted their [the communists’] terms.  It was a deal; we preached and they beat us.  We were happy preaching.  They were happy beating us, so everyone was happy.”

While watching the film, I was deeply convicted that I have suffered almost nothing in order to follow Jesus Christ.  When Jesus told us to make disciples, He did not tell us to build large buildings and put on entertaining services so that we could fill them with passive pew-sitters.  He told us to go and make disciples everywhere we went.  And before that, He called us to be disciples ourselves, not considering our lives as precious, but giving them away and pouring them out in service of Him for His greater honor and glory.

I have to ask myself often and honestly, am I really and truly a disciple of Jesus?  The reality is, being His disciple, as well as making disciples, is extremely difficult.  It is backbreaking, heart-rending, self-effacing work.  And following Jesus involves more than theoretical sacrifice.  It involves making concrete commitments and costly choices to follow that might result in becoming uncomfortable, being fired, straining relationships, and losing popularity.  For some, it could even mean far more—a significant loss of freedom and/or the forfeiture of one’s life.

When Peter and the apostles were arrested and questioned by the Pharisees for sharing the good news about Jesus, Acts 5:40-42 tells us that the Pharisees “beat them and charged them not to speak in the name of Jesus, and let them go.  Then they left the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name.  And every day, in the temple and from house to house, they did not cease teaching and preaching that the Christ is Jesus.”  They were willing to suffer and even die for Jesus because they trusted, loved, and wanted to honor Him.  Any difficulties endured for His sake were a privilege to thank God for, not a hardship or humiliation to be avoided at all cost.  And as they obeyed Him, they experienced deep and genuine joy.

While I know in theory (and by limited experience) that there is great joy and fulfillment in following Jesus, no matter the risk or cost, I am still constantly tempted to make my life more comfortable, less arduous, and inoffensive.  I often love the world more than God, because I do not really believe he deeply cares for me and is a loving, gracious God.  I constantly think I know better how to live my life because I do not really believe God is wiser than I.  I repeatedly give myself over to sin because I do not really believe that the holiness of God is what I was designed to reflect and exhibit in this world.  And ultimately, I continue to fear hardship, suffering, and death because I love the things of this life more than the eternal things of God.  I don’t really believe that heaven will be magnificently, indescribably better than even the sweetest and most joyous moments in this life.

Am I a disciple of Jesus?  In the broadest sense of that term, I hope I can answer yes.  But in the concrete daily struggle to be faithful, I must admit, I am a continuous and consummate failure.  And yet, in His grace, He still offers the promise that He is with me always, even to the end of the age.  For all my foibles, failures, fears, and faithlessness, He remains faithful and promises that He will never leave or forsake me.  He is still in the process of making me His disciple and, praise God, the journey toward joy is only just beginning!

Lament and Imprecation: Feeling with the God Who Feels

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In my recent journey through the Psalms, I’ve been struck by the frequency of both deep laments as well as harsh and angry expressions made by some of the writers.  I’ve also been contemplating many of the gross injustices of our world today and find myself frequently sad, angry, and disgusted by some of the morally repugnant attitudes and actions of our age, but also the ones I see deep within in my own heart and soul.

Psalmic laments (expressions of deep sadness) are fairly well-known, as when David in Psalm 6:6 cries, “I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping.”

Something perhaps less well-known but just as important are the Psalmic imprecations.  The word, “imprecate,” means to invoke evil upon or to curse, and there are at least 18 imprecatory Psalms.  They include major portions where the author calls upon God to do something terrible to the wicked and ungodly.

Consider these examples:

Psalm 10:12, 15: “Arise, O Lord; O God . . . .  Break the arm of the wicked and evildoer.”

Psalm 52:5, “But God will break you [the wicked] down forever; he will snatch and tear you from your tent; he will uproot you from the land of the living.”

Psalm 58:6-8: “O God, break the teeth in their mouths . . . O Lord!  Let them vanish like water that runs away . . . .  Let them be like the snail that dissolves into slime, like the stillborn child who never sees the sun.”

Psalm 83:16-17: “Fill their faces with shame . . . O Lord.  Let them be put to shame and dismayed forever; let them perish in disgrace.”

Psalm 139:19: “O that You would slay the wicked, O God.”

Growing up in evangelicalism, there seemed (at least to me) to be a predisposition in our worship and scripture readings toward celebration and praise.  And that’s all fine and good.  God is certainly worthy of celebratory praise, but I’ve increasingly come to realize that while celebration, praise, and thanksgiving are centrally important to a healthy Christian life, some other important aspects were neglected or even ignored.

I somehow got the impression that being sad, upset, and outraged by morally reprehensible views, attitudes, and acts was more of an “Old Testament state of mind.”  Jesus had instituted a happier, kinder, and gentler era.  We were told to “consider it all joy,” “turn the other cheek,” “overcome evil with good,” and “bless those who persecute us.”  Of course, all of these responses have their place in Christian living, and vengeance is properly delegated to God alone since He has all the information necessary to make just judgments.  Still, it remains appropriate and healthy for Christians to grieve and be angry at what sin is and does in our time, seeking to be part of a movement toward bringing about the justice of the kingdom of God.

I think a reluctance to respond with raw and honest emotion to the ravages of evil gives at least a partial explanation for some of the mass exodus (some estimates suggest nearly 80%) from church by the current generation of youth raised in evangelicalism.  Many were raised in a culture of brokenness and pain.  In church, however, they only experienced a culture of superficial happiness and celebration that did not seem willing or even able to explore the depths of anguish, anger, and injustice that have become a daily experience for many in our world today.  Because they found no culture of genuine brokenness, distress, and compassion, they turned away to the world around them, a place where there was a willingness to openly admit and express imperfection, anger, and grief.

As the Psalms plainly show, grief and anger over injustice alongside a cry for justice is a very real and legitimate way to relate to God on a deeper level.  Still, it shouldn’t stop there.  The psalms show that these expressions are ultimately tempered and redirected by the humble recognition and acceptance that it is God who must act on behalf of the victimized and oppressed.  He is the one who is continuously called upon to comfort the afflicted and right every wrong.

This does not mean we do nothing in the face of injustice and pain, but it does mean we look to God first and foremost as the One who hears our outraged cries and then enables and empowers us to labor faithfully for His kingdom to come and His will to be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Thus, as important as they are, raw expressions of emotion are not enough.  Our angst, anger, and anguish must be offered up to the God who feels with us, the God who hears and cares, the God who is angry at sin yet weeps with those who weep.  And in the deep empathy of this Holy and emotive God who became flesh and dwelt among and suffered with and for us, we find real hope, genuine healing, and the wisdom and strength to actively and intentionally make the world a better place.

 

Knowledge in a Trivial Age

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Francis Bacon claimed, “Knowledge is power.”  In an information age, this is certainly true.  But with a surplus of information sources at our fingertips, knowledge can also be a serious source of distraction since much of this knowledge, even if accurate, is trivial and ultimately doesn’t matter all that much.

In his book, Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman describes the impact media has on us this way: “[People] no longer talk to each other, they entertain each other.  They do not exchange ideas, they exchange images.  They do not argue with propositions; they argue with good looks, celebrities and commercials. . . .  When a population becomes distracted by trivia, when cultural life is redefined as a perpetual round of entertainments . . ., then a nation finds itself at risk; culture-death is a clear possibility.”

One of the great challenges Christians have in the digital age is to resist the temptation to “be in the know” about everything.  We are tempted to keep up on the latest news, events, trends, and celebrity exploits so that others will see us “relevant” and “knowledgeable.”  We fear missing out on what everyone else already seems to know, and dread being perceived as hopelessly old-fashioned and uninformed.

We are taken in by the promise of endless entertainment and amusement—a shallow vision of joy—that keeps us from a deep and abiding relationship with God.  We somehow think that inconsequential ideas and experiences can meaningfully replace what truly matters—a growing knowledge of and intimacy with God.  We no longer have the wisdom to discern the difference between the superficial and the significant, the trivial and the momentous.  We end up only thinking and talking about the latest fads and fashions rather than the deep things of God.

Because of its antiquity and our love for all things new, we are tempted to ignore or downplay the Bible’s importance when considering the issues of our time.  Nothing, however, matters more than the word of God since nothing and no One is more relevant than God.  As the old saying goes, “Everything that is not eternal is eternally out of date.”

We have to come to grips with the fact that God has made us finite.  We have only limited amounts of time and energy.  We must make wise choices in who we spend time with, as well as what we choose to know, care, and talk about with others.  And if we know more about current celebrities, sports figures, and politicians than we do about our neighbors, friends, and even the members of our own family, something has gone horribly wrong with our sense of purpose and relationship with the Lord.

So much of what passes for essential knowledge in our time is actually transitory and temporary.  The word of God, on the other hand, remains forever (Isaiah 40:8).  Jeremiah 6:16 implores us to “Stand by the roads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is; and walk in it and find rest for your souls.”  2 Peter 3:18 exhorts us to “Grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”

How, then, do you spend your time and energies?  Where are you looking for real and substantial knowledge?  What do you think and talk about the most?  Who and what do you really want to know and why?

Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks: Education in a Digital Age

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When I sensed God calling me into teaching and training as a primary ministry platform, I did not think very long and hard about specific methods of teaching.

It seemed clear enough that much of my ministry as a teacher would be spent researching, reflecting, writing, and preparing classroom lectures.  Oh yes, I would also be grading traditional student assignments like papers, tests, and quizzes.  How I was educated seemed the norm for how I would subsequently educate others.

The meteoric rise of digital technologies and a host of new online educational delivery systems has fundamentally altered the way students have been, expect to be, and are being educated today.  And this seismic digital shift has become especially relevant during the COVID-19 pandemic where most schools have been mandated to do all classes via distance learning.

But long before the COVID-19 pandemic, our world was becoming progressively immersed in the virtual realities of our time.  Traditional residential classroom education and the pedagogical methods of yesterday have increasingly felt like endangered species.

Such enormous transformations have made me step back and ask some hard questions.  Why did I go into teaching in the first place?  Was it about me and what I enjoyed and was good at, or was it about my desire to see lives changed for the glory of God?  It was likely some of both, but central to the decision was my love for interacting and engaging with people and ideas, especially those things pertaining to God and His world.  I longed to understand, communicate, and wisely apply God’s truth in clear, meaningful, and life-altering ways.

The digital age has forced this old dog to revisit fundamental questions about my calling and modes of teaching.  If I only want to deliver information in a traditional classroom setting, it appears my days as a teacher are numbered.  But if a ministry of teaching and training is more primary—no matter what delivery systems are employed—it might be possible for me to learn some new tricks and continue serving in seminary education.

Ultimately, I teach because I am called by God and want to be used to help bring about life-transformation for His greater honor and glory.  In this sense, I hope and pray He will enable me to continue to learn how to more effectively teach, mentor, and minister in the rapidly changing realities of an increasingly digitized age.

Lord Jesus, please make it so.

We are not in control

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Just before Jesus’ death, the disciples were marveling at the magnificence of the Herodian temple.  As Mark 13;1-2 puts it, “And as he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Look, Teacher, what wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!’  And Jesus said to him, ‘Do you see these great buildings?  There will not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down.’”

Herod’s temple seemed impregnable.  It stood within one of the best protected cities in the ancient Near East.  In addition, it was one of the most magnificent structures of its time and at that point in history, had taken almost 50 years to build.  Even more than this, the temple was the sacred place where almighty God dwelt and was worshiped.  How, then, could it possibly be destroyed?

Less than 40 years later, the Romans set it on fire and razed it to the ground.

Not long ago, I was walking around Singapore marveling at the city’s majestic buildings, bustling economy, clean environment, and proactive government.  All seemed right with the world and I couldn’t help but wonder, what could possibly bring down such a towering edifice of human ingenuity and safeguarding as the nation-state of Singapore?  Everything seemed so carefully controlled and well thought-out.

Of course, I knew in theory that if God wanted to bring the nation down, He could do so in a moment, but that possibility seemed so utterly remote and unlikely, it felt like an implausible distant dream.  It’s amazing how a dream can become a living nightmare in just a matter of days or weeks.

It was not a military or alien invasion, nor was it a massive corruption scandal that brought Singapore and the rest of the world low.  No, it was a microscopic virus called COVID-19 that brought this grand illusion of control crashing down, shattering it into a million little pieces.  Try as we might, this intrepid microbe is finding ways to slip through the tiniest cracks of our lockdowns and quarantines, infecting and sometimes killing the rich as the poor, the great and the small, the important and the insignificant.

Try as we might, times like these remind us that we are decidedly not in control—and never really have been.  As Psalm 33:10-22 so aptly puts it, “The Lord brings the counsel of the nations to nothing; he frustrates the plans of the peoples.  The counsel of the Lord stands forever, the plans of his heart to all generations. . . .  The Lord looks down from heaven; he sees all the children of man; from where he sits enthroned he looks out on all the inhabitants of the earth, he who fashions the hearts of them all and observes all their deeds.  The king is not saved by his great army; a warrior is not delivered by his great strength.  The war horse is a false hope for salvation, and by its great might it cannot rescue. Behold, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his steadfast love, that he may deliver their soul from death and keep them alive in famine.  Our soul waits for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.  For our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name.  Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in you.”

Whatever our illusions of control may have been, COVID-19 confronts us with the fact that the God can use the very great or (in this case) the very small to bring an entire planet to its knees.  While on our knees, may we be found praying prayers of hope and faith in the only wise and sovereign God who still deeply loves and cares for each and every one of us.

 

Will there be enough? Trusting in the God Who Provides

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With the COVID-19 outbreak, stock values worldwide have plummeted over the past few days.  I have not bothered to find out how much my retirement portfolio has already lost since the days and weeks ahead will likely become worse.

Being significantly closer to retirement age than when I started in ministry, I confess, everything that’s happened recently has me thinking about questions of provision.  Will there be enough to eat and live on in the days ahead?  Over the long-haul, will our financial support significantly shrink in the wake of job and market losses?  Will I be able to leave an inheritance to my children’s children?

When Cru founder Bill Bright and his wife, Vonette, were approaching retirement, they decided to liquidate their retirement account to help advance the fulfillment of the Great Commission around the world.  In so doing, they believed God would provide their needs in old age.

Later, when Bill was 74, he was awarded the one million-dollar Templeton prize for advancing spirituality in the world.  Any normal couple might have concluded that God had honored their faith and provided for their retirement through this rather exceptional means.  Instead, Bill and Vonette once again gave it all away, this time to promote a global movement of fasting and prayer.  Seven years later, Bill died, and Vonette joined him twelve years after that.

When visiting Bill’s grave in 2014, I remember thinking it was nice, but relatively simple and non-ostentatious considering he was the founder of one of the largest and most influential Christian organizations of the 20th century.  One thing was clear, however.  Bill and Vonette truly understood what few of us ever will.  They knew that when they died, they would leave behind all earthly goods and spend eternity enjoying the unending treasures of intimacy with the Lord Jesus Christ.  In that light, no earthly shortages or privations really mattered anymore.  They were convinced that God was fully faithful and would always meet their basic needs in this life—and so He did.

He will do no less for us as well, even if our jobs are lost and our retirement accounts drain away to zero.  We can still praise and hope in God, echoing the faith-filled words of the Prophet Habakkuk: “Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.  God, the Lord, is my strength!

Faith or Fear? Trusting God in the COVID-19 Age

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Since the Covid-19 virus impacted Asia long before the rest of the world, we’ve been living under various restrictions here in Singapore for over a month now.  It’s given me some time to reflect on life, death, and seeking a greater faith in God.

The fact is, apart from the second coming of Jesus Christ, we will all die someday.  The only question is, how and when?  As Christians, we really shouldn’t fear death, although most of do if we’re honest.  And I confess, I am by nature a fearful person.  Although I became a Christian very early in life, some of my earliest childhood memories included the (irrational) fear that I would get sick and die young of some terrible disease.  I suppose it didn’t help watching movies like, “The Andromeda Strain,” and “The Omega Man,” but I always found it difficult to release these fears and trust in the goodness and faithfulness of God.

I take some comfort in the fact that fear is nothing new, and the Bible talks a lot about it.  The simple but profound phrases, “do not be afraid” and “fear not,” are found 67 times in the ESV translation of the Bible.  In Matthew 6:25-34 alone, Jesus mentions anxiety six times.  Closely related positive variations on this theme (“trust/hope in God”) occur numerous additional times as well.  It would seem that all human beings, Christians included, are incredibly prone to fear and need to learn (and constantly relearn) to trust in God’s wisdom and goodness.

With the recent pandemic, it’s incredibly tempting to let anxiety and fear strangle our faith in God.  Surprisingly, I have been experiencing a profound sense of peace in the midst of all the clamor.  In many ways, I am more concerned about the inconveniences of widespread and long-term lockdowns and shortages than I am about death.  After all, death for those in Christ merely means experiencing true life forever in the presence of God!  Why in the world would I fear that kind of everlasting hope and joy?  In the words of the Apostle Paul, “that is far better” (Philippians 1:23)!  In the meantime, however, all of us must continue to struggle to trust God through the vicissitudes—and viruses—of life.

How do we do that?  The answer is neither hidden nor profound.  We ask Him for His grace to live in faith when it’s much more natural to live in fear.  We let the peace of Christ reign in us when panic tries to take over and push Him from the center of our hearts.  And we offer our lives as living sacrifices for God’s glory so that whether in life or in death, our lives remain safely held within His wise and loving hands.

COVID-19: Some Semi-factual Reflections

 

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With the recent COVID-19 pandemic, there are a lot of unanswered questions and incorrect information swirling around on the internet.  I am neither a medical doctor nor a virologist, but I’ve seen so much that is misleading and inaccurate, I couldn’t help adding a few semi-factual reflections to the confusing cacophony.  I do so with the hope that at least for some, it might provide a bit more sanity and clarity.

First of all, as much as no one wants to hear it, the main goal at this point is mitigation, not eradication.  I’ve heard many make the claim that the vast majority of cases (80-85%) are relatively mild and most will readily recover.  So far, so good.  The real problem is the 15% (using the more conservative figure), as well as the wildly disparate death rates from country to country.  It would appear the reasons for the disparity are many, but it’s not my purpose here to get lost in the numbers.  Others have already put out valuable and accurate articles along those lines to help explain the reasons for these disparities.

Because this disease is very contagious—almost twice that of the flu—so-called “social distancing” is the main way to slow the spread.  This ultimately achieves not eradication, but mitigation, and mitigation is necessary to keep those who will get very sick from the virus manageable in terms of numbers.

Italy (as well as China and Iran) is a good test case for this problem.  Italy failed to put serious restrictions in place until many people had already died.  When the numbers of sick shot up exponentially, medical resources were almost immediately stretched to the breaking point.  There were not nearly enough medical personnel, beds, medications, ventilators, etc. to meet the burgeoning demand.  If they had put restrictions in place earlier, they would at least have slowed the exponential spread of the virus and given the medical community a smaller and steadier stream of patients to be treated and released, making room for others to come in on their heels.

As it is now, Italian hospitals are deciding who lives and who dies based on factors like being a parent, being young and healthy, having no pre-existing medical conditions, etc.  This is triage of the most macabre and dreadful kind, but wholly necessary given the situation they are in.  Sad to say, all of that is now water under the bridge.  If, however, the USA can learn anything from all of this, it’s that they need to put widespread draconian restrictions in place sooner and not later.

While no one wants to hear or face it, quarantines, shortages, travel bans, online-only education, and the cancelation of large-scale social events (regular church services included) are likely to be the new normal for quite some time—likely months and not just weeks.  If we have learned anything from the lockdown in China, it’s that this virus is not going to be eliminated on a large scale for a long, long time.  On January 23 in Wuhan, China closed down virtually everything that did not pertain to vital services for a city of 11 million people.  The rest of China soon followed.  While cases of the virus have finally fallen to nearly zero, it has taken almost two full months to get to this point and the Chinese lockdown has been enforced in draconian absolutist communist style, literally locking and sealing people into their respective homes and communities.  Even so, it is still unclear when the restrictions will be lifted and to what extent.  One thing is for sure, China will not be allowing people from other parts of the world back in to re-infect them anytime soon.

I am deeply concerned for the situation in the US for many reasons.  First and foremost, Americans love their freedom way too much.  They also tend to distrust and disrespect their leaders and those in authority over them.  It’s difficult for most Americans to be told what to do.  It’s even harder for them to actually do what they are told.

Most Asians, on the other hand, have a much more communal mindset and clearly understand the value of making hard personal choices for the sake of the overall societal wellbeing.  Their Confucian roots also make them much more trusting of those in authority over them.  This combination makes it more likely that people will do what they are asked (not even required) to do by the authorities for the sake of the greater good of all.  We have seen the happy results of that here in Singapore where the virus spread continues to be kept from blowing out and overwhelming the medical system.

Beyond all of this, it’s still very hard to say what effect warmer and more humid days will have on COVID-19.  We can only hope that similar to other coronaviruses like the flu and the common cold, warmer summer months will help slow the speed of transmission.  We simply do not know yet, but very warm and tropic places in Asia (like Singapore) show that this virus is not easily contained in any climate.  We also hope for a vaccine to be developed sooner and not later.  But in the meantime, people everywhere need to be patient and take the governmental restrictions put in place very seriously so that hospitals and medical workers will not be overwhelmed and forced to make dreadful decisions about who will live and die.

So far, these are relatively factual (although admittedly debatable) reflections.  In the post that follows, I will reflect more on issues of faith and fear as we increasingly come face-to-face with the realities of a post-COVID-19 world.