By Monte E. Wilson ^{1 2}

(Continued from part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 and part 5.)

Repelled or attracted?

One day at St. Petersburg Beach, Florida, I was sharing the gospel with a young man. He had struck up a conversation about something he had seen on television, and the conversation had turned to spiritual matters. In the twinkling of an eye a bus filled with overzealous young people pulled up and disgorged the occupants. Before you could say, Just-as-I-am-without-one-plea, they had passed out gospel tracts to about a hundred shocked people and were back on the bus pulling out of the parking lot. As they drove off into the sunset, they hung out the windows yelling at everyone, “Jesus is Lord!”

What made those kids (and us) think that unbelievers will be attracted to the gospel by strange behavior? Why did we think that someone who is biblically illiterate will respond positively to the question, “Have you been washed in the blood of the Lamb?” Do we actually think someone will be motivated to seek salvation because he read a sign taped on the side of a car that reads “John 3:16”? Do people run to their prayer closets when they read a bumper sticker that says “God Is My Provider” on the back of a rusted out 1988 Buick?

To help us ascertain our ideas of true “spirituality,” consider two ministers. One man fasts quite often; in fact, he borders on being an ascetic. He preaches to everyone he knows, and is constantly challenging them to repent of , their sins or to expect hell. He rarely passes up an opportunity to expose the immorality of the state’s political leaders, and he never passes up the chance to expose the hypocrisy of church leaders. He is a “Type A” sort of guy who lives an in-your-face religion. His testimony is one of a “prophet” who burns with holiness.

The other man frequents parties and loves socializing with unbelievers. At these parties he frequently refrains from confronting a single soul with the message of the gospel. Other than one protracted fast in the beginning of his ministry, he seldom practices that spiritual discipline. He doesn’t preach often and when he does talk of spiritual matters he tells stories about everyday life. Unlike the first minister, his testimony is a bit muddy. There are questions about the propriety of his having women travel with his ministry team, and the word is that he may like wine a bit too much.

Question: Given our ideas of spirituality, which of these men is more spiritual? Is it John the Baptist or Jesus? Why is that we believe John the Baptist’s lifestyle is the one God expects of us all? Both were obeying God, both fulfilled their calling.

In the early days of the church, when one could be imprisoned and executed for confessing Christ alone as Lord, how did the Christian community “let their light shine”? Did they engage in door-to-door evangelism? Did they hold open-air crusades? How did the average Christian become “salt and light”? Did you know that their church meetings were closed, private affairs?

How did Christians in the first century influence their communities? When the Romans threw their unwanted newborn babies under the bridges, leaving the infants to be carried away by wild dogs, the Christians waited in the shadows, took the children home and raised them as their own. This testimony, over a period of time, won the hearts of many.

What else did they do? They lived peaceable and self-governed lives. When conflicts arose that could not be resolved, the aggrieved parties went to the elders, the church court (1 Cor.). These courts were renown for providing justice. You can imagine how attractive this would be to a society that was utterly corrupt. Gradually, many of the Romans began appealing to these courts for adjudication of their conflicts.

What did these people do to disciple their nation for Christ? They acted justly, they loved mercy and they walked humbly before God (Micah 6:8). They lived their day-to-day lives as Christians. They married, had children, went about fulfilling their vocations, went to church and watched for opportunities to do good to others. No big marches, no boycotts of grocery stores who sold meat to be offered to idols, no Christian entertainment at the Colosseum. Political offices were not an option.

I am not suggesting that organized evangelism is wrong. I am not saying that a John-the-Baptist style of confrontational or sacrificial living is wrong. I am saying that not everyone is called or gifted for such things. I am also saying that for the vast majority of Christians, what God expects of us is to live our normal lives as Christians.

(Tomorrow: Wilson’s conclusion, and “You may be a rogue Green Beret if …” checklist.)

By Monte E. Wilson ¹

(Continued from part 1, part 2 and part 3.)

There is therefore … condemnation

What happens when a local church is captured by the notion that all of its members are to live like David Livingstone? Is it enough that this church faithfully partakes of the Lord’s Supper, baptizes, sits under the Word of God every Sunday, visits the sick and shut in, leavening the area where God placed it? No, it is not. Every member must be like Livingstone, or Blessit, or Graham, or Müller.

We not only evaluate our churches by the inapplicable standard of one man’s calling, but we also evaluate them by the standard of the “renewal movement.” We started out in youth rallies, moved to charismatic conferences, and then on to seminars about reforming the church and nation. We are Movement oriented.

Renewal movements are exciting, fresh, intense. But this is not the normal Christian life. So when my particular church ceases being “on the cutting edge” of whatever it is God-is-doing-in-the-earth, I take off looking for the next “wave,” the next movement, the next spiritual rush. I want to ride the waves, not build the church.

I believe that a vast majority of evangelicals are addicted to the psychological highs which come with the new renewal movement: the new churches it produces, the new paradigm, the new practices, etc. There is absolutely no commitment to the church as the church because it is the church. No. We see our local church as a movement Which has ceased moving us—so it is time to move on.

Green Beret Christians evaluate themselves and their churches by the standard of a renewal movement or revival. If they are not experiencing the conscious presence of God, something is wrong with them or the church: I am in sin, they are in sin, someone is in sin! If there are not times of intense focus upon religious things, they are “being distracted by the world.” If they are not learning new music every Sunday, “God has departed.” If souls are not being converted at a good pace, “We have no heart for the lost.” What do they do? They go start another franchise of The Church of What’s Happenin’ Now, or The Church Which Is Doing It Right.

What happens to the normal Christian when living a normal life as a Christian is thought to be far less than what God requires? They have only two options. They can (a) fake it, secretly living with the condemnation of their commonness, or (b) leave the church altogether. Of course, there are a few brave, mature souls who refuse to bow to the extra-scriptural demands of the elite and patiently wait for us all to run out of steam.

Given this mindset, are we surprised to learn of the havoc we have brought into the church? Can we see that when we demanded a church of pure spirituality that we embarked on a road inevitably leading to schismatic behavior? When we withdrew our loyalty from churches because they were filled with tares, were we not requiring more than God Himself requires this side of eternity? What would happen if we judged our own souls with the same perfectionistic standard we hung like the Sword of Damodes over our local churches?

Can we see the damage caused by our pride and ignorance? Meat-eaters shunning milk-drinkers; the spiritual elite leaving the “carnal” church to start their own “First Church of the Green Berets” —a church where one’s spirituality (to place the best possible light on it) is judged by the standard of one particular calling and gifting rather than his saltiness in day-to-day living. Will there be growth in grace in this sort of atmosphere?

(Tomorrow: Did Biblical apostles teach only “Green Beret” Christianity?)

By Monte E. Wilson¹

(Continued from part 1.)

“Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”

For the next few weeks I wrestled with what I should do with my life. Music did not appear to be the vehicle that was going to take me where I wanted to go. And where was that? I didn’t really know. All I knew was that I had to give my life to something bigger than myself,  something transcendent, something that would demand every ounce of my being, every second of my existence.

One evening, while walking the aisles of the library at Samford, my eyes trained on the top shelf, I tripped over a stack of books lying on the floor. While restacking the books, my eyes focused on the name of a man whom I had read about years before. I picked up the book and began reading.

He was back in his native Scotland to receive an honorary Doctor of Laws from the University of Glasgow. As he walks across the stage to receive the honor, the audience sees the great David Livingstone: a man gaunt and emaciated from years of living in Africa with hostile temperatures and people. He has suffered malaria well over twenty times. One of his arms hangs useless by his side, having been mauled by a lion. And rather than clapping and yelling (or taunting, as the students usually did on such occasions), they stood and greeted him with the ovation of  reverential silence.

He announced that he will soon return to the continent that had captured his soul years before. Knowing people wondered about the sanity of going back to such horrendous conditions, living nearly every day with the threat of death, he tells the students why he will go back with gladness. His confidence was based on a promise from God, Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. “On those words I staked everything, and they never failed!”

As I read this story, I knew that I was called to take the gospel of the kingdom to the world: Other people may wish to live out their lives in the same neighborhoods as they grew up in, with the same friends, eating at the same restaurants for the next fifty years, but this was not my destiny. I wanted to take the gospel to wherever spiritual darkness was the greatest. Neighborhoods would suffocate me; only the needs of nations would make me want to get up in the morning!

For the next several years, I preached in bus stations, bars, colleges, churches and on street corners. For close to eighteen months I spoke an average of five times a day on radio and television, before prayer groups and in “revival services.” Thousands of young people confessed Christ as their Lord.

It was an amazing time. I could stand in a park in downtown Birmingham, Alabama, and within moments after I had begun speaking, hundreds of people gathered around to listen. When I exhorted young people to come with me after a church service was dismissed, scores of them followed me to the beach, to a park or to the racetrack where we shared the gospel with those who never dreamed of being approached on such a subject in such a place. The unbelievers were hungry, the believers were on fire.

But what happened when many of the older adults or even some of the young people had other things to do or did not “feel led” to follow me in my quest? Well, isn’t it obvious? They were deadbeats with spiritual mononucleosis. They were lukewarm Christians whom God was going to puke out of His mouth, Pharisees upon whom He would send His judgment!

It was one thing for my fellow ministers and me to give away nearly all the money we earned, forgoing certain creature comforts, witnessing from city to city. We crossed the line, however, when we began to believe that all Christians should have the same experiences we had and share the gospel with the lost with the same intensity and frequency that we did. We went over the edge when we deemed ourselves more spiritual than those who refused to follow our lead.

(Tomorrow: While attempting to avoid the caste-system-like tenets of religions such as Catholicism, do evangelicals fall into the same trap?)

Green Berets for Jesus

It was late one evening when a friend came to my dorm room at Samford University. I had been practicing piano for hours and was just getting to my room for some dreaded work on a Western Civilization assignment. The friend excitedly told me of a revival at one of the Baptist churches there in Birmingham, Alabama. Apparently, he had “never seen or heard of anything like what was going on there.” Being the son of a Southern Baptist pastor, I seriously doubted if there was anything I had not already seen or heard. However, since I was weary of being secluded in a windowless room for three hours of piano practice, I “felt led” to go to church that night.

We arrived forty-five minutes early and there were no more seats available in an auditorium that seated 750 or more people. Rather than standing outside with all the latecomers and listening to the service via loudspeakers, I led my friend around the back where we sneaked in through some closets, crawled through the choir loft and sat down on the floor directly in front of the pulpit.

After some rousing music, the janitor came out to do something with the pulpit. I knew he was the janitor because he had longhair, was wearing faded blue jeans, a pullover and sandals. To my surprise, however, the “janitor” turned out to be the speaker—Arthur Blessit [sic], the “father” of the Jesus Movement. For forty-five minutes, Arthur exhorted the crowd of young people to give their lives to Jesus Christ. The man’s very pores exuded the love of Christ. I was mesmerized by his passion for the lost and his obvious devotion to reach those whom the church had ignored.

When the sermon was over, an invitation was given for people to come forward to give themselves to Jesus. Scores came down the aisle and emptied their pockets of drugs and related paraphernalia. While Arthur was working his way through the crowd, I could see that he was moving in my direction. As I tried to back up and give the pagans room to talk with the man, I could see that he was focused on reaching me. When he took my hand, before I could say— “I am a Baptist who hasn’t missed Sunday School in fourteen years and my dad is a leading pastor in the denomination so don’t confuse me with the riffraff” —he told me to sit in a pew and not leave until he had spoken with me. His tone was stem, his demeanor was commanding.

While I had the urge to run, I waited for Arthur to return. “No one talks to me in that tone. What happened to the love that was dripping from his every word? Why did he look so angry with me? Does he think I am one of those pagans?” Before I could let him know that he had made a mistake, he sat down beside me and told me that I was obviously running from God’s call on my life. “What call is that?” I asked. “The call to the ministry,” he shot back.

Now I had already explained to God a year before that I would serve Him, but not in any pulpit. I loved my dad; I thought he was an incredible man of God. However, the vocation seemed quite stressful, laden with poverty and filled with men who needed some lessons in savoir faire. Not a lifestyle I was attracted to. So, as a compromise with the Almighty, I offered my services in the world of music. Obviously, Arthur had not been made privy to this agreement. However, before I could explain my case to this misguided evangelist, he told me that we—as in, the two of us—were going to go out and “witness to people for the Lord.”

When we pulled up in front of the Boom-Boom Room, I knew I was in trouble. I had frequently patronized this establishment but had not “felt led” to speak to anyone there about his spiritual condition. While I had never been carded there before, this time I begged God to see to it that the gentleman at the door noticed I was under age. He did not.

While Arthur began cheerfully speaking to individuals about the gospel I did my best to disappear into the shadows and hoped that no one recognized me. But then 1 heard a man ask me if I was “with that long-haired guy over there.” I nodded yes, eyes staring forward. He then asked me if I believed the same things that Arthur was telling people over at the bar. I affirmed my agreement with another nod, and still would not look at the gentleman who was speaking to me.

“Do you mean to tell me that Jesus will forgive me all of my sins, if I ask Him to?” His voice was filled with amazement.

“Yes,” I answered, with a voice filled with a not-so-subtle tone that said, “Go Away, You Bother Me!”

“Do you mean that I could pray right here and give my life to Jesus Christ and He would wipe my sins away?” His voice was growing louder.

“Yes.” My answers were more quiet than the still small voice heard by Elijah.

“I can repent … and He will forgive anything and everything I have done wrong?”

I sighed a “Yes” in his general direction.

“Okay. Let’s pray. I want to give my life to Jesus!”

I couldn’t believe it. I looked over at the elderly gentleman whose cheeks were bathed in tears and … drew a blank. What was I supposed to say? Finally I remembered that I should lead him in prayer, and so offered my hand and bowed my head. With the gusto of a Pentecostal, the man yelled out, “No, I want to kneel like those people over there are doing with your friend!” And before I could explain that we were not saved by such works, he had yanked me to the floor to kneel beside him and began repenting of every sin he had ever committed, his anguish filling every syllable. Before I had time to cover myself by acting as if I had dropped my contact lenses, I was awash in tears of humiliation over my arrogance and fear of man. Here was an unbeliever who, without hesitation, was willing to humble himself before God and man while I, a longtime believer, refused to do anything that would take me out of my ego’s comfort zone.

(Tomorrow: do all Christians have the same calling as “Green Berets” like David Livingstone?)

(Continued from parts 1, part 2 and part 3.)

Varying Christian vocations

Christians who are faithful dispensing coffee behind a Starbuck’s counter can be just as radical for Christ’s sake. Christians who work in business, raise their families and even own nice houses — even those who may have unwittingly compromised with a consumerism-driven life — can devote those tasks to the glory of God. Factory workers, stay-at-home moms, scholars, authors and pastors can live radically, even if they have never helped build an orphanage in Costa Rica.

I really do wish I could write that hypothetical book I mentioned earlier. Maybe someone will. For if compromising with consumerism is one blight on the church, so is a failure to see all of life — including Official Ministry such as caring for the poor and evangelizing in a foreign land — as ministry for God’s sake. This, by the way, this is one surefire way to support missionaries.

Maybe a Radical sequel or two could address such things: Radical At Home, Radical At Church, Radical In the Workplace, etc. Yes, that would be much too market-driven; I suggest that only tongue-in-cheek. Yet Platt’s book almost exclusively emphasizes only Radical in Overt Ministry.

Avoiding hints of do-ism

It’s not that I’m opposed to direct explanations of what we’re supposed to do with the Gospel, not that we have it. Yet Platt seemed to explain the basis for the Christian’s radical good works, the Gospel and the rewards Christ offers, in only about 20 percent of Radical. The rest seemed to be exhortations of what to do, with only several callbacks to an assumed foundation. Though I haven’t tabulated total phrases or words, it might be a ratio of about 80 – 20, do versus done.

Even for those Christians who fit most directly into Platt’s audience — the wealthy suburbanites who have long since neglected the Gospel call in practice, even if not in belief — would it not be better to reverse the ratio? Like Scripture itself, should we focus more on done rather than do?

Such wrong views about possessions, and failures to follow Christ’s Great Commission, are not overthrown only by calls to radical living. They are overthrown by focus on the radical Gospel, God’s truly astounding nature and plan of redeemed His people, not just for their good and happiness but for His own glory. Shouldn’t that be Christians’ main points for those who still live a consumerism-driven life? Instead, Platt seemed to focus more on the fruits, and assuming the case had been made for the roots. Those still trapped in moralism won’t see much difference.

(Finally: Radical accidentally reinforces false Heaven-versus-Earth dichotomies.)

The book was a light read; and a tough read. It was short, yet seemed to take longer. I agreed with almost all of it, yet often grew frustrated. Its author reinforced truth, yet proved very challenging — and often not for the reasons one might assume.

After hearing about Radical by David Platt for so long, I was finally able to read it myself.

And I meant every word of the seeming paradoxical reactions I described above.

First, what did Platt get right? Much in every way! Radical may not be the first to call Christians to abandon materialistic assumptions (the “American dream,” as Platt references it), but it’s one of the few I’ve read that starts off grounding that call not in moralistic motives, but the Gospel.

Megachurch methods, program-driven pragmatism, topical sermons about how to Live Better, and pray-this-prayer-and-be-safe ideas are popular, but weaken the Gospel, Platt often repeats.

If we have been saved by this amazing God from our just fate under His wrath, Platt asks, why are we not responding out of gratitude to Him? Why do many Christians take God’s blessings as a means to their own end, substituting comfort for God’s call on all believers to take His Gospel into the world to others? And why, Platt asks, do many Christians who claim not to believe all people will be saved (universalism), in practice act as if it’s not necessary to preach the Gospel?

Platt bases his calls to action in solid Scriptural ground: Christian hedonism, not just (as others might say) We Must Build a Better World, or It’s the Right Thing. Those who give all they have to Jesus aren’t just doing their duty. They do so for the sake of Him as their reward:

You know that in the end you are not really giving away anything at all. Instead you are gaining. […] So with joy—with joy!—you sell it all, you abandon it all. Why? Because you have found something worth losing everything else for. [… Jesus] is something—someone—worth losing everything for. And if we walk away from the Jesus of the gospel, we walk away from eternal riches. (page 18)

That’s what I most appreciated about Radical: Platt’s Gospel basis. In many ways, yes, the rest was challenging to my own sin-shrapnel of practical universalism, or lack of care for the poor and those who haven’t heard the Gospel. Yet it was challenging in many other ways — not for anything Platt said, but for some truths and Biblical balance he could have also easily included.

(Tomorrow: might some who encourage “radical” Christianity forget “ministry myopia”?)

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.

What’s your reaction upon hearing this oft-repeated evangelical slogan:

“God so loved the world (that) he gave his only begotten son. What are you willing to give?”

A response likely depends on whether you’re a Christian or non-Christian, as written last week. For Christians, you might know that it doesn’t really mean you’re supposed to “match” Jesus’ gift with your own. That would be horribly insulting to Him, and useless besides. Instead, we do good works out of gratitude to Him.

But do Christians always think that way? I know I don’t. Instead I too often feel guilt for not doing as many “good works” as I should, not because I haven’t been loving and honoring God enough, but because I think that I should Be Better Than That.

So if a Christian can still drift into that way of thinking, imagine a nonbeliever’s reaction to any vague-at-best phrase that goes like “Jesus gave it all for you, now what will you give to Him?”

A nonbeliever could take it lightly as just another work-harder religion, or worse, try to follow it.

So what might be more-Biblical ways to tell about Jesus’ gift and call others to action?

What’s the Word?

How did the first Christians say people should respond to the Gospel of Christ’s death for sins?¹.

“Repent and be baptized.” Confess your sins; turn from them. Be saved and confirm it publicly.

Very similar: repent from your sins, turn from them, and God will send Jesus to you.

Acts 8: 26-40 skims over some details, but shows the apostle Phillip stressing another part of the Gospel for an Ethiopian eunuch²: the fact that a passage from Isaiah was prophesying Jesus’ death.

In Acts 10: 34-43, Peter is at it again, giving a quickly summarized presentation of the Gospel. His audience is Gentiles who already believe in the God of the Jews, and maybe that’s why Peter hits harder on the same this-was-foretold-by-the-prophets angle (verse 43).

At the end of Acts 17, the apostle Paul barely talked about Jesus at all — at least that we read. He may have talked more about Him later, but his main point to the Greeks: repent (verse 30).

Further in

For those whom the apostles expected to know about God’s Law, or the pagan Greeks who don’t even know about God period, the apostles didn’t say anything like Jesus gave it all for you, so what will you give for him? That’s not a clear Gospel message. It’s also confusing. To a non-Christian, it will only reinforce a “default” religion of trying to sacrifice to impress God.

Yes, believers are meant to give their lives to Christ and do good. True religion, John and James separately say in many ways, is carried out in love for God, each other, and good works.

But even that is not really a sacrifice. All believers’ good works are ultimately God’s work in them (Philippians 2:12). The explorer/missionary David Livingstone (whose birthday was yesterday) seems to have understood this; even he famously said, “I never made a sacrifice.”

So let’s ensure that, for Christians and non-Christians alike, we never speak or act as though we do need to “match” Jesus’ sacrifice with our own!

“God gave His Son for you. What are you willing to give for Him?”

I hear that a lot. It gets on those oft-maligned Christian t-shirts.¹ And it was also written in chalk on a public park my wife and I visited some months ago (see below).

And I wonder if this is a good way to word the question.

Christians who know the Scriptures may not have a problem with it, because they already know there’s nothing they can do to earn God’s salvation. We know that our sins are too bad, and God is too good; only Christ by His grace through faith can save us.

But every once in a while you’ll meet a Christian who seems to have a wrong understanding: “Jesus gave His life for me, so I gave my life to Him.” Quid pro quo. This-for-that.

So if a Christian, who should understand God’s grace, can fall into that kind of thinking, how much worse could an non-Christian, outside of grace, interpret that slogan?

It’s not a heresy. But it’s not helpful either. Christians should clean up their jargon. Here’s why.

Ye have heard that it was said …

“God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son. What are you willing to give?”

Figure A:

Public park sidewalk slogan (artist unknown): “God so loved the world [that] he gave his only begotten son. What are you willing to give?” ²

Figure B:

Using Scripture, an evangelistic tract gives an overall-good presentation of man’s need for God, and the need to accept Jesus. But it concludes with something like, “Jesus gave his life for you, so won’t you give your life for him?”

What’s the truth in this?

Salvation is not easy — it was not easy for Jesus to die to “save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21) and it’s not easy to admit one’s sin, repent and turn to the only Savior.

Some Christian evangelists may commit the opposite error, saying repeatedly something like “all you need to do is believe.” This is true, and for those who wrongly believe Christianity is about earning one’s way to Heaven, it could be vital to emphasize the comparative “easiness” of it.

However, often an “easy believe-ism” approach minimizes the raw, anguish-inducing, personally humbling fact that one’s repentance coincides with his or her belief in the Gospel (Mark 1:15). Jesus said that those who follow Him would need to deny themselves and “take up his cross” (Matthew 16: 24-26³). In that sense, we do need to “give” something to follow Him — that is, give up our selfish desires, our arrogance, ourselves.

What’s the lie in this?

But what is the religious “default setting” in non-Christians, or sometimes even in Christians? ⁴ Is it remembering that salvation is all God’s doing? Or is it thinking that what we give, either before or after salvation, is what impresses God?

I don’t know about you, but my “default setting” is not total trust in God’s grace. It’s reliance on (what I think are) my own good deeds. By default, I would drift out of orbit around Christ and His Gospel, pulled by the gravity of old Earth back into religious legalism — even as a Christian.

This is why it’s vital to remind ourselves of God’s word and His grace as often as possible.

So if Christians can struggle with that, what does a nonbeliever think after reading or hearing a message like “God gave his son for you; what will you give to him”? Put yourself in the place of a nonbeliever. By default, they don’t think, “Oh, God is incredible; He’s given me so much, and I’ve been so rebellious against Him; I need to be saved.” Instead they might think:

Mild:

“Huh … those religious types … trying to get people to be good.” (Note: misses the “Jesus gave His life” part. Most people know the crucifixion story, but naturally don’t care.)

Medium:

“Nice to know they think God loves me … maybe I should be more loving too. …”

Hot:

“Yeah … Jesus set a good example, dying and all of that, so I really should get to work and feed hungry children.” (Note: this is the really convicted reaction! Again, no conviction of sin against anyone — especially God — and the need to repent, and no basis in God’s grace.)

Next week: related Scriptures, and further in. …

Of all the Christian myths out there, this one is surely among the big kahunas.

One might even argue it’s the biggest — at the very top of a top-ten list of Christian myths. In fact, if we can’t see its un-Biblical basis, we may not see the un-Biblical basis of anything.

The Bible has 774,746 words. This error comes from just two, ripped screaming from context.

Ye have heard that it was said …

The Bible says: “Judge not”!

AKA: The Bible says not to judge.

AKA: Christians are so judgmental.

Figure A:

A ranting fundie street preacher¹ is hollering in a secular university’s free-speech area. He catches the attention of some, the derision of most. One girl passing by think she’ll try a little drive-by shot. “The Bible says not to judge!” she blurts, and then goes on, very satisfied with her deep knowledge of Scripture.

Figure B:

Some Christian-spirituality book author, or sermon preacher, decries the image Christians have in the world. We’re too often seen as being judgmental, the leader proclaims. We need to be more loving. We need to win people with love. The Bible says, “Judge not.”

Figure C:

Christians: Since the bible says NOT to judge, why are you always judging Pagans?²

From Yahoo Answers, mid-October 2009 ³

What’s the truth in this?

Judging someone for being guilty of a sin must be done with care for at least three reasons:

1. Those who practice the same sins for which they condemn others risk God’s judgment; He is the ultimate judge (Romans 2: 1-2). That counts for sins against Him, and sins against each other — true judgment and repayment of personal wrongs is up to God, not us (Romans 12:19).
2. Sharing truth must be done with a spirit of humility and love (even if it’s tough love). All Christians have been guilty of the same kinds of evils as everyone else. The only difference is that God has saved His people from those consequences (1 Corinthians 6: 9-11).
3. Judgment should be done more in the Church than in the world, the Apostle Paul says strongly (1 Corinthians 5: 12-13). This is done to protect the boundaries of the Church, where immorality would defame the Name of Christ and must not be tolerated. To an extent, outsiders are expected to have immoral behavior. Still, that does not mean we must never point that out.

What’s the lie in this?

1. No judging allowed never ever is nowhere near what Scripture says. The whole Scripture and hundreds of separate passages assume the idea that judging is necessary. More on this below.
2. No judging allowed never ever is rarely people’s real meaning anyway. Few in practice truly mean Never judge anyone for any belief or action. Rather, it’s a card played for personal use: Don’t judge me, at least not what I’m saying now. Logically, that backfires and utterly fails.

But we needn’t even delve into all those other passages yet. Matthew 7 itself rebuts the wrong.

What’s the Word?

Two words: “Judge not”? Try reading the other 103: Christians must evaluate their own hearts before pointing out sins in others. Going from point A to point B without taking out the plank in your own eye makes little sense (note how Jesus’ hyperbole still translates to the present day). But Jesus never says always avoid point B, removing someone else’s speck. Instead, work on yourself first. “Then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.”

If somehow Jesus really had meant never to judge someone, by his actions or character, these verses would make no sense. To avoid giving holy things to mangy dogs or pearls to uncaring pigs, you must judge what/who is a dog or pig. Watching for false prophets requires judging.

Elsewhere, Christ Himself and epistle writers go into detail about how that looks.

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