Christians have a lot of clichés — that’s part of why YeHaveHeard exists. But if that ever seems annoying or depressing, it helped me today to recall that Atheists have at least as many clichés, if not more. It was with that reminder that I started this rebuttal to an Atheist, trying (I hope) to be firm and Biblical, yet also kind and loving.¹

This sounds like a series — Answers to an Atheist — thus the 1 in the title. Any suggestions for more Atheist clichés to discuss or kindly debunk? Scribble away. Opposed, like sign, if you are an Atheist or Christian who wants to pick at my responses.

Here it is.

Of clichés and chronocentrism

I’m not late, because I arrived precisely when I meant to.

First a few thoughts to [F.O.E., the Atheist], before writing further comments to resume the discussion about morality, its origins and consistency and such with Irina.

How many times is it that I have heard the adjective “petulant” ascribed to the Biblical God? I am seriously wondering whether there is a stylebook out there. However, I hope the following will not be intended as mocking (though you’ve had quite a lot of that to offer against God), but rather will all due respect, though accompanied by a bit of rebuff.

[F.O.E.], please read all of the below, and consider it (for a few days?) before responding.

The bible is the cultural relic of a millenia old desert tribe.

That’s not a very nice way to speak about the Jews (12 tribes, actually), is it?

Perhaps it’s true that despite getting over some past racism, the only acceptable group to disparage is the group of the dead (maybe because they are certainly not a minority, it’s okay to slam them). C.S. Lewis called this chronocentrism, the tendency to hold one’s self up as so much more enlightened than those stupid, nose-picking people of the past.

And I’m not even yet claiming the Bible’s inspiration — though I do know it is God’s word to man and I trust Him and His Word (more on this later, to Irina). You say this is a circular argument? You trust in yourself as ultimate authority — which is also a circular argument.

One can easily debunk Bible “falsehoods,” “contradictions” and all that with some Google searches. Throw some at me and I can likely debunk them too, and I’m not even some great theologian or expert — I just read the Bible, as much as I can and *in its own context*, and know that God is love and not the idiot you’re saying He is.

There is nothing to rebel against.

Do you really believe that?

I wonder what atheists would do for fun without those ignoramus Christians around to pick on. I’m not saying all atheists spend their lives picking on Christians, but I’m not seeing much respect at all from you, for me or of course for a Christian’s belief, much less for God Himself.

Slipping on a bad grade

You cannot prove there is a god, and the evidence is overwhelming that there isn’t.

I doubt you know what kind of evidence you would accept. Think about it. And lest you say “well, if God appeared to me and told me Himself that He existed,” I don’t buy even that answer. An atheist friend once told me that, and I challenged him whether he would really believe that this glowing, blazing being in front of him was God. At this my friend admitted that he wouldn’t accept even that. He would instead wonder if this was some alien trick.

Anything but God. If He doesn’t exist, and there’s nothing to rebel against, why the rebellion?

I am not guilty of breaking any of god’s commandments, because they do not exist.

Then why do you sound so angry against a nonexistent God and nonexistent commandments? Why your own righteous rage against hypocrites and perverts? Sorry, you show you still know there are objective moral standards, even as you argue philosophically against them. The more sobering truth is that all of us fall short of this perfect Law, and God doesn’t grade on a curve.

In the bible, murder is supposedly a sin, except when a jealous and petulant god condones it.

[…]

If your god is so wonderful, why does he not do something about the Catholic Churches protection of paedophiles and its hoard of riches, or pastors in New Jersey who sexually assault and film young girls, or Colorado pastors who preach against gays but indulge in drug-fuelled homosexual orgies?

Apparently if it were up to you, you wouldn’t “let” Him do anything about these evils, because you’ve *a priori* declared that if God condones killing or punishment, that’s “murder” and it’s Petulant™. You’ve hamstrung this nonexistent divine dunderhead just a bit, haven’t you?

Somehow I think God knows how to handle sin and sinners better than you or me.

The Biblical answer is that certainly God will punish those who do evil — from pedophiles and greedmongers, to hypocrites and sexual perverts. Right now He’s giving them a chance to repent.² And be careful what you wish for. If the Lord went ahead and nuked everyone who was evil and hated Him and His love and Law, all those not saved would be among the first to die. Based on your disregard for His existence, love and holiness, I hope that wouldn’t include you.

I’m certainly grateful God didn’t punish all evil in the world before now. Otherwise, He would have never saved me. In fact, I wouldn’t have been born.

Scripture is clear: He has a bigger picture in mind. He doesn’t punish everyone now because He is merciful and offers people the chance to turn from their sins, embrace His sacrifice and forgiveness, and live eternally as changed persons who love Him more than anything else. If you want Him to punish evil, just wait and don’t gave a rat’s rip what He’s given to you — life, a conscience, air to breath, His own love. “All get what they want. They do not always like it.”

The old line is the true line: Repent and believe the Gospel. Sorry if some professing Christians have muddled it for you, but it’s as simple as that. And I don’t even need to pressure and whine and insist that you believe it, [F.O.E.]. If God wants you, He will get to you, using my words or not.

(A short sequel to Wednesday’s column, originally posted here.)

Some Christians are convinced that Satan can corrupt many things — such as alcohol or yoga practices, like positions or breathing — to the point where

Consider this montage of quotes from Justin Taylor’s blog: Alcohol, Liberty, and Legalism. It’s one of the best summaries I’ve read of why Christians ought to fight man-made rules at least as much, if not more so, than they fight addictive behaviors or actual pagan practices.

Here’s an excerpt, from Taylor’s excerpt from You Know Who¹ about legalism’s appalling dangers. It is far worse than the obvious danger of alcohol, or any other Bad Thing we try to avoid.

Satan is so sly. “He disguises himself as an angel of light,” the apostle says in 2 Corinthians 11:14. He keeps his deadliest diseases most sanitary. He clothes his captains in religious garments and houses his weapons in temples. O don’t you want to see his plots uncovered? . . .

Legalism is a more dangerous disease than alcoholism because it doesn’t look like one.

Alcoholism makes men fail; legalism helps them succeed in the world.

Alcoholism makes men depend on the bottle; legalism makes them self-sufficient, depending on no one.

Alcoholism destroys moral resolve; legalism gives it strength.

Alcoholics don’t feel welcome in church; legalists love to hear their morality extolled in church.

Or: Why I joined a Facebook group called “Yoga and Eastern Martial Arts are NOT Christian!”

In which the Author, having No Wish to cause un-Biblical Offense to a Sister in Christ, Nevertheless attempts to show what Scripture says actually causes Human Sin.

Firstly, for those of you who don’t claim Christianity, or who have issues with major ideas like “God is love, so He made it clear what He wants us to know by inspiring His Word” — that is a far more important discussion. Isn’t this far more important than whether yoga is good or bad, or whether Christianity is against every element ascribed to yoga?

What is important is whether God is real, loving and holy. And does He see any of us worthy of Him, to delight in and enjoy Him forever? Have any of us kept all Ten Commandments? If not, will we suffer the punishment, or has Someone suffered it for us?

Now with that in mind, those of you who are not Christians can see (I hope; help me, Lord!) what it is like when Christians respectfully disagree with each other or discuss issues. Welcome to the inside. You’re in the treehouse now; make sure you pull the rope-ladder up after you.

For starters, [group founder], I think that you are misunderstanding a key part of what I’m saying.¹

What I say: “ ‘Meat sacrificed to idols’ (i.e., a Thing someone does with evil intent) is not sinful. What someone makes of it is sinful. Therefore the Thing is not at fault; the person can be.”

What you seem to hear: “Idols (i.e. a Thing that’s intrinsically opposed to God or His standards) are not sinful. We can enjoy an idol and still be Christian. Freedom and love are the way, man!”

Does Scripture have a balance between two Biblical truths that God doesn’t see as contradictory at all: Christians’ freedom in Christ, and the need to discern and avoid evil influences that are “not profitable”? I borrow that phrase from 1 Corinthians 6. The Apostle Paul warns Christians not to fall into the extreme view portrayed by a popular secular proverb, “All things are lawful for me.” No, Paul clarifies, “not all things are helpful. … I will not be enslaved by anything.”

We are in full agreement that some things are not helpful. In a recent Tweet, you mentioned internet porn. This is like an idol — at best it is a vanity, useless and there is no point to it; at worst it is corrupting. But I do not see all of yoga as an idol. Do you think all of it is?

Please note also that everything I say here applies equally to martial arts, television or the internet, musical instruments, movies, science fiction, or anything else that can be abused.

Real idols vs. meat meant for idols

I will keep coming back to a clear Biblical truth about how Christians handle “meat sacrificed to idols” as mentioned in Romans 14 and 1 Corinthians 8-10. In short: “meat sacrificed to idols” was a Thing that someone meant for evil, in anti-Christian religious ceremonies. Paul said such meats were not themselves evil, for an idol is nothing compared with the real God (1 Cor. 8:4). Romans 14 makes it clear he’s talking about more than food — Paul singles out holidays. Wise Christians also take this principle to include choices of media, music, books, or where to live.

But is yoga an idol, as you’re saying, or a meat sacrificed to an idol? Let me set up two scenarios. True discernment would sort out the differences between them:

1. Some yoga classes might include everyone assuming a painful-looking position (at least it looks painful to me) breathing a certain way, maybe doing strenuous exercise. They may reference energies or something (I’m likely messing up the particulars here; please bear with me). As you’ve said, participants may use this as part of an attempt to channel a demon (or spirit, or whatever). They may say things that contradict God’s Word.

Which parts of this are wrong?

It sounds like you’re saying “f” when you say: “Yoga is basically channeling a demon.” All of it?

2. My wife used to teach and take dance at a private Christian-oriented dance school. In one of my wife’s classes, her teacher (a solid Christian) incorporated, with discernment, “yoga moves” into the training. Did this include the whole package above? Not at all. It only included positions — which really hurt in hard-to-reach places, my wife assures me — concentration and breathing, and strenuous exercise. No chanting. No channeling. No false teaching or religion.

Do you think such activities, away from any pagan anti-God context, are still themselves so evil that a demon can utilize them to infiltrate any Christian?

Disclaimer: don’t cause stumbling

Here I want to be very clear. [Group founder,] I know from elsewhere about your real background. But let us assume you are a newer Christian, or truly a more-sensitive sister. Such a person could have experience with an actual pagan-saturated practice of yoga, and want to avoid it. Why? For the same reason that a new Christian with an alcoholic past might avoid any restaurant with a bar: He might be tempted to fall back into that sinful habit that dishonors the Lord he loves.

So if you had a background in New Age practices, paganism or religion-saturated yoga, I would not be telling you like this that certain parts of yoga might be okay. Instead, I would encourage you to think about where the real sin comes from — as I’m doing now. But then I would back off and let God and you make your own decisions and whether it would be sinful for you.

‘Stopping the indulgence of the flesh’

However, I understand that isn’t your background. Instead you’ve simply said, “I hate yoga.”

Why? Do you mean all the parts of it, including anything yoga teachers may have stumbled upon, apart from the pagan stuff, that happens to help dancers or athletes train their bodies? If so, then isn’t this not following Biblical discernment? Isn’t this instead making up regulations that ultimately can’t prevent real sin from within?

So what is of value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh? Paul goes on (and the rest of Scripture agrees) to urge a focus on Christ and Who He is. He has disarmed spiritual authorities! Yes, they are still out there, still dangerous and can cause temptations, but He has “put them to open shame” (Col. 3:15). As Christians hold fast to Jesus as our Head, our priorities change. We depart from a rule-driven lifestyle and love Him. Thus gradually our minds are being conformed to His (Rom. 12: 1-2). His Spirit changes us from within.

Colossians 3 goes on to describe the dual-sided process of putting to death old-earthly, evil things (this requires discernment) and becoming like who Christ wants His people to be. This is how we stop the indulgence of the flesh. It’s not by telling ourselves or others, “Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch,” but by saying: “Know, love, become like and touch Christ.”

Conclusion, for now

That is why I joined this group, why I believe your premise is flawed, and why I believe there are more important things to be saying to Christians and non-Christians.

To Christians, we should say: “Christ is our all in all; let us be more like Him.”

To non-Christians, we should be saying: “Jesus is Lord, righteous, loving and holy. Apart from Him, your worst problem is not just being in the wrong environment or doing the wrong things, but failing to love and respect Him above anything else. Repent and believe in the Gospel!”

I know you are sharing these truths elsewhere. But when anyone is at the same time collecting shiny things — lesser spiritual causes — like magpies, what does that say about the Gospel? Doesn’t it say to others something like: “Yes, the Gospel is a huge priority for Christians and deadness in sin is the main problem — but also, vote this way! Reject this! Do this!”?

Alas, no! Our main priority is the Gospel. All other issues are secondary. What do you think?

I would urge you to consider the weight of these Scriptures, and particularly the emphasis in the New Testament on how we fight sin and the way demons really exploit it. (They are not making up the sin; only bringing it to the surface from the sin-shrapnel in our own hearts.) Furthermore, do you see how little the Scripture says about fighting demons directly, with exorcisms and all that? The battle is simpler and yet more complicated than that.

In fact, if I were a demon, do you know what I’d do? I would make Christians so focused on avoiding obvious things like yoga that they let me smuggle paganism into their lives through bad novels, sappy worship songs and false teachers. After all, Satan dresses up not as an obvious villain, but an angel of light.

So Megachurches have repetitive, silly liturgies too. Who would have thought?

“Opening song!
Opening song!
Opening song
Lights and big drums.
You know it’s cool because
You heard it on the radio …”

[. . .]

(With gratuitous use of Chorus Brow:)
“This is the song that everyone knows
It’s the song that everyone knows …”

[. . .]

“My new song
That nobody knows
Nobody knows this song.
I want you to learn this song
And buy my record in the bookstore
(After the service) …”

[. . .]

“This is the closing song!
With strings that’ll make you cry …”

Worship pastor Bob Kauflin has some thoughts here. I’d love to hear yours …

All my life I heard Matthew 25:40 interpreted to be about Christians helping the poor.

Just last week the “Bible fog” lifted, and I really heard the context of the whole passage.

Maybe you read this next and think, Duh, I always knew that. But for me I am sure I always subconsciously “bought” the whole this-is-about-Christians-helping-poor-people assumption. When “social justice”-styled professing Christians quoted the verse that way, I accepted their argument and moved on to other reasons why helping the poor isn’t the be-all-end-all of the Bible (something like, Yes, that’s important, but what’s also important is …).

But actually, though taking care of the poor is a Scriptural concept, it’s not exactly here.

The other day I heard activist Jim Wallis, in a debate with Marvin Olasky, quote verse 40. His point was that Christians need to do righteous to “the least of these.” If I remember correctly, he didn’t quote the whole verse — just the part about caring for the poor. (Ironically, the entire chapter is about the coming Kingdom and God’s judgment, a topic Wallis didn’t mention.)

But here’s the full context — from Mark 25: 31-40:

The least of who? All poor people? Victims of oppression? The hungry? Maybe Scripture talks about these elsewhere, but it’s not here. The least of who? The least of these my brothers. Who are they? It’s not the whole human race — rather, His disciples who do His will.

I didn’t find this on my own. But on the human side, I can credit Kevin DeYoung. Last month he myth-busted several Bible texts often misused to support “social justice” causes.¹

Matthew 25 has become a favorite passage for many progressives and younger evangelicals. Even in the mainstream media it seems like hardly a day goes by without someone referencing Jesus’ command to welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, and clothe the naked. And few biblical phrases have gotten as much traction as “the least of these.” Whole movements have emerged whose central tenet is to care for “the least of these” ala Matthew 25. The implications–whether it be increased government spending, increased concern for “social justice,” or a general shame over not doing enough–are usually thought to be obvious from the text.

But in popular usage of the phrase, there’s almost no careful examination of what Jesus actually means by “the least of these.”

[. . .]

“The least of these” refers to other Christians in need, in particular itinerant Christian teachers dependent on hospitality from their family of faith.

[. . .]

Matthew 25 is about social justice in the sense that it is about caring for the needy. But the needy in view are fellow Christians, especially those dependent on our hospitality and generosity for their ministry. “The least of these” is not a blanket statement about the church’s responsibility to meet the needs of all the poor (though we do not want to be indifferent to hurting people). Nor should the phrase be used as a general cover for anything and everything we want to promote under the banner of social justice. Jesus says if we are too embarrassed, too lazy, or too cowardly to support our fellow Christians who depend on our assistance and are suffering for the sake of the gospel, we will go to hell. We should not make this passage say anything more or less than this.

And just today I caught more of the same truth from D.A. Carson’s book Becoming Conversant with the Emerging Church.² Summarizing Biblical texts some professing Christians often mangle to support their favorite social/political causes, Carson notes:

In the hands of some writers, what distinguishes the sheep from the goats is social concern: feeding the hungry, healing the sick, visiting people in prison—along with the dramatic addition of Jesus’ words, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (25:40, 45).[NIV] But that misses the point here. Certainly the Bible lays considerable stress elsewhere on compassion, justice, acts of mercy, kindness, and much else—as shown by Isaiah and Amos and the parable of the good Samaritan. But it has often been shown that in Matthew’s gospel the expression “the least of these brothers and sisters of mine” can only refer to the least of his followers. In other words, the sheep and the goats are exposed for what they are by the way they treat the downtrodden of Jesus’ followers.

One more phrase I’ll be using more carefully. Such a difference a few words can make.

Some professing Christians, particularly of the liberal variety, claim that little (or no) delving into doctrine is worthwhile for the world. After all, they claim, God is so mysterious and lofty that we can’t possibly know Him fully. And it could be arrogant to say we “know” something for sure about Him.

But I doubt people who prefer the label “emergent” have come up with that view on their own. Haven’t we already heard this attitude in other believers too? Yes, some doctrine squabbling is nitpicking. But some believers seem to think it’s all worthless nitpicking, or arrogance.

Author Brian McLaren seems to think so, too. Lest this seem like another contemporary McLaren pick-on, this actually comes from D.A. Carson’s older book Becoming Conversant with the Emerging Church.¹ After spending a few chapters in a deep yet readable compare/contrast of “premodernism,” “modernism,” and “postmodernism” frames of thought, Carson moves to evaluating what he terms the false antitheses (either it’s this, or it’s this!) common to “emergent” profess-ors.

First, Carson quotes more of McLaren’s book The Church on the Other Side.²

When we “do theology,” we are clay pots pondering the potters, kids pondering their father, ants discussing the elephant. At some level of profundity and accuracy, we are bound to be inadequate or incomplete all the time, in almost anything we say or think, considering our human limitations, including language, and God’s infinite greatness.

Our words will seek to be servants of mystery, not removers of it as they were in the old world. They will convey a message that is clear yet mysterious, simple yet mysterious, substantial yet mysterious. My faith developed in the old world of many words, in a naive confidence in the power of many words, as if the mysteries of faith could be captured like fine-print conditions in a legal document and reduced to safe equations. Mysteries, however, cannot be captured so precisely. Freeze-dried coffee, butterflies on pins, and frogs in formaldehyde all lose something in our attempts at capturing, defining, preserving, and rendering them less jumpy, flighty, or fluid. In the new world, we will understand this a little better.

Here it is again: the absolute antithesis. Either we can know God exhaustively, or we are restricted to the mysterious. Of course it is always true that we cannot know God exhaustively: we are not omniscient. God is infinitely greater than we are. Moreover, the best of the modernist theologians were among the most adamant on this point. It did not take postmodernism to discover that God is infinitely greater than we and in that sense forever remains mysterious.

But although the comparison of elephant and ants is helpful at one level, it overlooks the fact that in this case the ants have been made in the image of the elephant, and this elephant has not only communicated with the ants in ant-language, but has also, in the person of his Son, become an “ant” while remaining an “elephant.” If the ants were left on their own to figure out what the elephant knows and thinks and feels, “mystery” would be too weak a word. Yet in the case of the revealing elephant with whom we have to do, he has told us ants what he is like, what he thinks, what he feels, what he has done, and what he is going to do—not exhaustively, of course, but truly.

True, we must never think we have domesticated God, making him a specimen, a frog in a bottle of formaldehyde. But which of the great modern theologians ever thought of God in those terms?³ On the other hand, if this God has disclosed a great deal about himself, is it not appropriate to talk about and think and write and sing about the attributes that he himself has chosen to disclose in the language of the ants? Is this reducing God to a frog in formaldehyde? Surely not: it is merely the mark of faithfulness to the self-disclosure of this gracious God.

Because we are small and sinful, we will sometimes misunderstand and distort what he has disclosed. Sadly, we will sometimes be tempted to pretend that we know more about him than we actually do.

But when he has disclosed so much, it scarcely honors him to say, “Ah! He is so big, everything is so mysterious, that I cannot say a single true thing about him.” Only if “true” demands omniscient truth (that antithesis again!) is that a responsible position. Otherwise, it is merely a new idolatry: we refuse to take God at his word and prefer to worship the dogmatic not-knowing of hard postmodernism.