It’s hard to believe I wrote this four years ago. So much has changed since then, and yet so little is substantially different. I thought it might be appropriate to re-post this as I sit and stare out at a rainy Veteran’s Day.

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Today I flew home from Denver and had a strange experience in the Atlanta Airport. A group of military personnel were flying out — maybe 40 of them. As they walked through the airport in a group, people started spontaneously applauding. I saw young men slowly turn red and break out grinning in spite of themselves. I saw young women staring intently straight ahead lest they turn to look and catch someone’s eye. They looked sheepish and humble. There was no strut in them, but there was the unmistakable tinge of youthful embarrassment.

I normally walk through the airport quickly and with my head down, but I stopped and watched and clapped my hands along with everyone else.

Well, almost everyone else.

There was a family who did not applaud. They had dark skin. They looked Middle Eastern. The children started to applaud, but the adults quickly stopped them. The adults didn’t look angry or frightened; they looked sad.

I stood there for a moment and thought about what was going on. And I found myself conflicted.

There was a part of me that wanted to clap and shout and go pat those young men and women on the back and say how proud we are of them, and how we’re all praying for them. There was another part of me that wanted to yell, “Don’t go! Stay here with your moms and dads and husbands and wives and kids!”

Of course, I respect these young people and their willingness to put their lives in harm’s way to protect innocence and spread freedom and democracy around the world. I believe we are a safer nation because of our military, and I want to honor that — especially the weekend of Veteran’s Day.

But there’s so much about the whole “military mindset” that I don’t like. I realize I am woefully unqualified to speak on this, and I want to learn to speak more intelligently about this subject. As a starting point, I want it to be known that I have tremendous respect for the military and want to show proper respect, but I also have some major qualms about exactly what it is we’re supporting.

I don’t like the fact that we take young people and program them to stop thinking individually — breaking them down and re-training them to practice group-think. At its worst — in scandals like Tailhook or Abu Ghraib — it takes on a distressing kind of mob-mentality that leads to grotesque violations of human rights. I sometimes wonder if boot camp itself isn’t a violation of human rights.

And I don’t like the fact that these young people are trained to kill. To some extent, they are taught to stop considering the value and dignity of human life and see only targets. I saw a bumper sticker the other day that’s stuck in my head. It’s simplistic and reductionist, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It said something like: “Maybe when Jesus said we should love our enemies he meant we shouldn’t kill them.”

I understand the biblical arguments for the Just War theory. I’ve always considered myself a Just War advocate — in a true Augustinian sense.

I also understand the biblical arguments for Pacifism. I was raised in a church that had strong roots in the pacifist movement. From earliest childhood I was taught how to explain the phrase “conscientious objector”.

I understand the arguments for Pre-emtive War — though I must admit I find very little that is biblical about them.

I don’t mean to start a new thread here to unpack all of this. But I wanted to share with you my feelings that afternoon as I watched those young men and women — so full of youth, so full of promise, so full of hopes and fears and anxiety. I don’t know if they’ll come home or not. I don’t know if they’ll kill anyone or not. I don’t know if their mission will be successful or not. I’m not even sure if this whole thing is necessary or not.

I’m sure there are folks who have thought through those questions. I remain unconvinced of a lot of the answers I hear coming from various sources, so I’ll continue to search out the wisdom of God on this matter.

Until I figure it out, though, that’ll be me in the corner listening to the sound of my own conflicted applause.

Sadly, I fear this post may offend some of my readers. The words “free will” have become dirty words to many of my Calvinist friends. Historically, no one questioned a human’s ability to make real and consequential choices until Augustine developed a deterministic concept of God late in his life (c. 417-430). Church fathers Tertullian, Novatian of Rome, Cyril of Jerusalem, Gregory of Nyssa may not have agreed on everything, but they were unanimous in their support of our ability and responsibility to choose wisely when it comes to accepting God’s offer of forgiveness and mercy. In fact, the last three made tremendous arguments that this was an indispensable part of what it means to have been created “in the image of God”.

So, it is with some trepidation but no apologies that I move forward from yesterday’s post on God’s holiness to discuss the dilemma presented to humans. As I said yesterday, God is holy, and we’re not. God’s holiness prevents him from having a relationship with anything not perfectly holy (that would be each one of us and all of us collectively). This, in turn, hinders the flow of generosity and kindness he wants to bestow upon us and threatens to subject us to his eventual wrath.

If that’s the case, why didn’t God remove the potential for sin in the original design of the first humans? Why not just take sin out of the mix from the start so there wouldn’t be anything to worry about?

Well, he could have done that. One of the advantages to being the Creator is that you get to choose what features end up in the final product. He could have created us so that we all break out into the theme song from “Gilligan’s Island” every hour on the hour if he’d wanted to. He didn’t, and thank him he didn’t!

He could have programmed us so that we had no choice but to do whatever he said without thinking, but he didn’t. God’s a person (I got in trouble for saying that once in a church in northern California, but it’s true), and — as a person — he wants to be in a personal relationship with the persons he personally creates. A personal relationship is not possible without options, without choice, without risking rejection.

The negative side to free will is obvious: Being free to choose embracing God and obeying him means also being free to choose to ignore God and disobey him. God is holy. We are not. And as much as we may want to point the finger at someone else — our parents, our teachers, Adam and Eve — we have no one to blame but ourselves.

But there’s an upside to free will, too. Isn’t there? What are the positives you can think of?

In my last post I mentioned that I’m reading this book by Dale Allison called The Luminous Dusk. In it, the author notes that prior to the 17th Century, with the exception of a very few Romans and Greeks, it was hard to find any European who seriously doubted the existence of God.

Furthermore, prior to the Lisbon earthquake of 1700, most devastating “acts of God” caused people to think about themselves and the role they may have played in bringing the destruction upon themselves. But, in that pivotal moment, Voltaire turned the tables on God — putting the Creator in the dock, as it were — and demanded he answer for his actions. When it was determined that his answers were not good enough, modern philosophy simply wished the Creator away to the cornfield.

Now, when we ask why there are so many agnostics and atheists in contemporary society — especially when there were so few throughout the majority of human history — what are we told?

Hume’s declaration that the universe is a closed system will be brought up. We’re told that higher biblical criticism in 19th Century Germany poked holes in the theory of biblical infallibility. We’re told that Darwin revealed the Book of Genesis as primitive mythology, something only believed by superstitious people who have no appreciation of science. We may even be told that religion was helpful for a time but has been rendered obsolete as we’ve continued to evolve.

But Allison suggests a factor so obvious we may end up overlooking it completely, a factor far removed from universities and books and debates, a factor that seems benign…until you think about it more carefully. Here’s what Allison says, “Secularization correlates directly with a growing physical separation from the so-called natural world. In other words, the more we have moved indoors, the less some of us are inclined to believe” (p. 7).

Could it be something as simple as that? Could insulation and central heating/air conditioning, grocery stores and automobiles, overhead lights and electrical outlets be adding to our disbelief in God?

It does seem to me — and this is purely anecdotal — that people who work with their hands outdoors, folks who farm and hunt and fish, who know the feel of the soil and the smell of the rain have a greater sense of their dependence, their limits and the presence of something bigger than this world. People who are asleep when the sun comes up and indoors when the sun goes down, who never really get to see the stars or dig in the dirt find it easier to believe in their own self-sufficiency.

So, what do you think? Does comfort take us farther from God?

I love the Old Testament story of Nebuchadnezzar, and I hate it, too.

I love it because it has all the elements of a great story. A king, strutting around like a peacock, claiming all the power and all the glory is his alone, defying God to show himself, thumbing his nose at the heavens, goes mad and lives like the wild animal he’s become until he acknowledges and submits to the rule of God. Only then is he restored to his senses and his place in the palace.

The moral of the story is clear: “[God] is able to humble those who walk in pride” (Daniel 4:37).

That moral, as clear as it is, is why I hate this story. It’s too much about me. Too often I find myself playing the role of the peacock who turns into a wild animal. It’s humiliating. But it’s true.

Pride leads to madness; humility is sanity.

One time Jesus told a group of grownups that they had to become like children if they wanted what he was offering. He told them that greatness, as far as he was concerned, was measured in service. Note that he did not say service is the means of achieving greatness. He said service is greatness.

I sometimes fear we’re too familiar with sayings like these. They may have lost their ability to impact our ears. They don’t shock or stun us the way they should.

Of course, Jesus not only taught such things; he lived this way, emptying himself, humbling himself to the point of death — even death on a cross. Later, the Apostle Paul would say that those who claim to follow Jesus must have that same attitude, that same willingness to serve others to the point of death if necessary.

That chafes a bit.

Western society does not like this idea. We’ve been suckered in by Nietzsche. We’re all or trying to become Superman. Meanwhile, Jesus stands, all too often, as the lone voice in the wilderness calling us to become like a child.

I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating: the only category of people who are eligible for grace (according to the Bible) are the humble. This gets repeated so often in the pages of Scripture, it’s nearly impossible to miss. Still, I’m lousy at it.

I read a book about humility not too long ago, and I hated it. Part of the reason why I hated it was because I think the author (whose name I will not mention) and his ministry (which I also will not name) are borderline abusive and manipulative in their fixation on human depravity and sin.

But part of the reason I hated it was because it got under my skin. I get irritated when someone brings up my shortcomings. It bothers me to think of myself as less than adequate.

The only remedy I can think of (and here is where I depart from the book and the author and his ministry) is to not think even less of myself than I already do but to think of myself less than I usually do — to focus not on me, my sin, my smarts, myself and focus more on God and the gifts he gives and the gift he is.

This is the joyful byproduct of theocentric thinking: I learn to love myself correctly as I learn to love God completely.

In our attempt to think Christianly, I’ve suggested that there is no real “good” without God. Today I will add that there is little actual wisdom to be found without God. So, if our desire is to be “good” and “wise”, I believe we’ll find these things as we seek after God himself. Wisdom and goodness, in other words, come as a by-product of godliness.

There are five books in the Old Testament that are known as the Books of Wisdom (Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes and the Song of Solomon). All focus, to varying degrees, on what it means to be human and how we all encounter evil, suffering, injustice and love.

The Book of Ecclesiastes is known for its pessimistic refrain, “Meaningless, meaningless, utterly meaningless” (or “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity”). The point the author makes is that, for a life bound by time and space (“under the sun”), restricted to a brief lifespan, overshadowed by pain and injustice, leading inevitably to death, with no external reference point — life, indeed, is as pointless and profitless as “chasing after the wind”.

Only God — Creator, Judge, Beginning, End — can, by adding the missing elements of transcendence and eternity to our lives, give us meaning. Thus, in the alchemy of God’s kingdom, the apparent folly of pursuing and serving an unseen God, of living a cruciform life of self-sacrifice and service, is transformed into wisdom.

In contrast to the pessimism of Ecclesiastes, we discover another maxim often repeated in the Wisdom Literature: “The fear of the Lord — that is wisdom, and to shun evil is understanding” (Job 28:28; cf. Psalm 110:10; Proverbs 1:7; 9:10; Ecclesiastes 12:13). Here we find the two most important realities in all of human life: God and evil. God personifies all that is good (love, creativity, truth, beauty, etc.); evil is the absence of all those things and the presence of their opposite (fear, monotony, deception, destruction, etc.). These two categories dominate life on earth. One brings fulfillment; the other brings alienation. One gives hope; the other gives despair.

Wisdom, then, is a right attitude towards both. Wisdom is loving and embracing God (and, thus, that which is good) while also rejecting and hating that which is evil.

Viewed this way, the commands of God (especially those great commands to love God completely, love self correctly and love others compassionately) don’t appear burdensome and dreary. They appear now as the only lifestyle that really makes sense, the sanest way to live.

That’s what theocentric thinking will get you!

A couple of weeks ago, I walked through what I called a “Fourfold Framework”. We talked about Creation, the Fall, Redemption and Consummation, and we saw that what the Bible has to say about these four distinct eras of human history allows us to view history in its proper perspective, as the unfolding process of God working out his purpose. I also suggested that seeing these four major events clearly, teaches us important truths about God, human beings and society.

I want to begin today to expand upon that last sentence. These four great events, teach us important truths about God, about human beings and about society. So, let’s start with the most obvious: God.

The Fourfold Framework (which — if I didn’t confess this earlier — is a phrase borrowed from John Stott) is rooted in theocentric thinking. In fact, it amounts to viewing history from God’s perspective. It is God who creates. It is God who judges. It is God who redeems. It is God who completes. All of this comes via God’s initiative.

Theocentric thinking, then, has some consequences. For example, the concept of blind evolutionary development is completely incompatible with our framework. The idea that life is random or absurd or meaningless cannot be reconciled with our position. The primary assertion of most of what passes for “self-help”, that I can and must pick myself up by my own bootstraps, appears not only foolish but downright mean-spirited.

These ideas are “secular” in the truest sense because as they leave no room for God, God’s intention, God’s design and God’s provision.

It is my belief that human beings can only truly be defined in their relation to God, that without God we cease to be truly human. Being creatures, part of the created order, we are dependent upon our Creator. Being sinners, our sin is accountable to him and comes under his judgment. Being fallen, we do not merely need a helper, a coach or a cheerleader; we need a Redeemer. Being imperfect, we await and cooperate with God as he completes his process of reforming us and our world.

Theocentric thinking means we understand the term “goodness” above all in terms of “godliness”.

I suppose this is at the root of my problem with so many Christians speakers’ and writers’ attempts to help people live better lives without ever introducing them to Jesus. it seems like, in the words of my good friend Tony Myles, we’re “putting the cart before the horse“. It feels like we’re trying to help them be “good” without God, and I have a hard time defining the first word without the presence of the second.

The man and woman had it made, but they listened to a lie instead of God’s truth. The consequence of their rebellion? They were run out of the garden. That might not sound like such a big deal, but there has been no greater single tragedy in human history. They had been made like God by God for God. Now they must live without God.

All the alienation, all the disorientation, all the lack of purpose and meaning, all the existential angst we have ever suffered comes as a direct result of this momentous event.

As if this weren’t bad enough, they also had to deal with the first relational crisis between the two of them. When God questioned Adam, he threw Eve under the bus, suggesting she was the true culprit. The equitable balance they’d experienced in the garden was disrupted. The battle of the sexes had begun. Tension hovers over our every relationship now. Pain haunts the threshold of motherhood (I stole that sentence from John Stott b/c it’s soooo descriptive).

Sadly, their first apple does not fall far from the tree. Cain learns jealousy from someone, and expands it into hatred and, eventually, murder. Cain’s son, Lamech, expands jealousy, hatred and murder into vengeance.

Even nature is out of whack. I don’t know what “whack” is exactly, but nature is out of it. The ground was cursed, and cultivation — which before was nearly effortless — became a constant struggle. Creative work became a source of frustration. Failing to keep the very first commandment (stewardship of the environment), we’ve chopped down forests and polluted rivers, creating dustbowls and deserts.

The concept of “Original Sin” simply means that human nature itself is now twisted. Selfishness is deeply embedded within each of us. The godlikeness hasn’t been destroyed, but it’s pretty seriously distorted now. We’re broken, and we can’t fix ourselves.

These first two pieces of the frame (Creation and Fall) come together to make something unique among world religions. Most religions paint a picture of humanity that is either one or the other — either all good or all bad. But Christians believe that human beings have an inherent dignity and an inherited depravity. That’s the tension in which we live. I strikes me as a much more realistic portrayal of people.

One of the things that makes the Christian worldview exceptional is the way it sets human history into four distinct eras — marked not by the rise and fall of empires or civilizations, but by the most major events imaginable: (1) the creation; (2) the fall; (3) the redemption; (4) the consummation. This framework allows us to view history in its proper perspective, as the unfolding process of God working out his purpose. As we see these four major events clearly, we find they teach us important truths about God, human beings and society.

Today, let’s start with the Christian understanding of Creation. It’s fundamentally important for Christians that in the beginning, God created the universe out of nothing. Within that universe, he placed our galaxy, and, within that galaxy, he placed our planet. On that planet, he placed a garden, and, within that garden, he placed a man and a woman — both created in his image. The importance of this “godlikeness” emerges as the story unfolds.

Adam and Eve are rational and moral, able to understand and respond to God’s commands. They are responsible, exercising dominion over nature. They are social beings, with a capacity to love and be loved by one another. They are spiritual, finding their highest fulfillment in knowing their Creator. In fact, the story has them walking and talking with God in the garden on a regular basis.

What do you think the doctrine of Creation teaches us about God? What does it teach us about human beings? What does it teach us about society?

It’s interesting to me that in writing about the tragic murder of Dr. George Tiller, I seemed to have a touched a nerve among people with whom I share common views on the subject of abortion. I’ve been asked privately if I’m attempting to justify Dr. Tiller’s ethics. I’ve been told publicly that I don’t have my facts straight on the reasons women seek late-term abortions.

All I was trying to do was point out the seemingly cavalier attitude many people in the pro-life camp had towards the murder of a man in a place of worship and how incongruous that attitude is to our stated position on the sanctity of life.

I actually think the pre-occupation with statistical analysis and the fierce determination not to appear sympathetic towards Dr. Tiller because of his chosen occupation might prove my point: the Christian community is not always as pro-life as we like to say we are.

One person emailed me privately to tell of her conflicted feelings on the matter. She wrote, “I really do believe murder is wrong, but when you murder a helpless baby that could live outside the mother’s womb, that is murder too…. Did he [the gunman] come to the defense of those who have no say? The Germans had laws that made it legal to kill the Jews. The United States blind justice laws on killing babies is wrong too. Some one who realizes the laws aren’t working and steps up is called a hero sometimes. Of course, I am not for killing doctors. I am just wondering if, considering all the babies he has killed, he could be called a mass murderer. I just don’t know what to think.”

The argument she mentions here is a common one and dates back to the early 80s when Francis Schaeffer wrote his book A Christian Manifesto. He compared America and its legalized abortion to Hitler’s Germany and said that whatever tactics would have been morally justified in removing Hitler might also be justified in trying to stop abortion.

I believe he would be shocked to think that someone might actually take him at his word, walk into a place of worship and pull a trigger.

I’ve read a lot about Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his decision to participate in a plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler. He’d been an avowed pacifist, and yet, while he believed killing Hitler would be wrong, he also believed allowing Hitler to continue his rampage would be wronger still. One of the things I admire most about Bonhoeffer is that he did not attempt to justify his actions. He knew it was wrong. He would answer for what he did, and he knew the only remedy for his guilt would be the grace of God.

Killing Jews is wrong. Killing Hitler? Along with Bonhoeffer, I try to imagine what Jesus might do when faced with such a difficult choice and come away with the same conclusion: Jesus would not kill Hitler. Bonhoeffer was content to add, “I am not Jesus.” Though Hitler was an evil man, I’m not sure I could have pulled the trigger. I’m not sure if my reasoning would be conscience or cowardice — probably some combination of the two.

Killing babies is wrong. Killing Dr. Tiller? I suppose “WWJD?” is still a good model to examine. Or perhaps we could refine it slightly for the sake of our conversation here.

WWJK: Who Would Jesus Kill?

March 8 was a pretty typical Sunday morning for most people. Those who are prone to church attendance attended the church of their choice. Others slept in, did the New York Times crossword puzzle, went to brunch, watched the Sunday shows or did whatever they normally do. Children went to Sunday school. Senior adults sang in the choir. Pretty normal stuff.

Except in Maryville, Illinois.

A quiet, little town a few miles from the Missouri border, the residents there are accustomed to hearing horrific stories on the evening news. St. Louis is no stranger to violence. But that kind of stuff happens in big cities, not in the little hamlet they call home.

On Sunday, March 8, a mentally ill man named Terry Joe Sedlaceck walked into the 8:15am service at First Baptist Church and shot Rev. Fred Winters to death as he was preaching.

The Christian community was understandably heartbroken by the tragic events. Commentators and bloggers decried the act as an insult of the highest order. The very idea of bringing firearms into a place of worship was appalling. Churches across the country began considering security measures. A church building is supposed to be a safe place, a welcoming place, a sanctuary. Safe haven is offered to all who will come. This is not supposed to be a place where you must fear for your safety.

Yesterday was another typical Sunday. Some folks went to church. Some folks stayed home. One man, allegedly, drove nearly 200 miles to walk into Reformation Lutheran Church in Wichita, Kansas, and gun down one of the ushers there.

Dr. George Tiller oversaw one of three clinics in America that will provide an abortion after the fetus is 21 weeks old (beyond what is now considered the threshold of viability — which means that the baby could most certainly survive on its own). Dr. Tiller believed he was simply providing women with high-quality health care. He believed that abortions, if they are going to be legal, should be safe. Peter Brownlie, president of the Kansas City regional Planned Parenthood office maintained that Dr. Tiller’s patients were “almost always in circumstances where something had gone horribly wrong with a pregnancy,” and where a woman’s health would be jeopardized by continuing the pregnancy.

For the record, I don’t believe abortion should be legal. I believe the best medical and scientific evidence leads us to the conclusion that abortion is wrong, and it ought not be allowed among civilized people. And I know I’m not alone in this belief. I know lots of the people who read this blog agree with me.

But how pro-life are we really? Why aren’t we as outraged by yesterday as we were by the events of March 8? I saw one mention of yesterday’s shooting in a friend’s Facebook status, and it, sadly, sounded like my friend was sort of saying, “Good riddance”.

If we’re going to be pro-life, where’s the line? Is shooting a preacher worse than shooting an abortionist? Is it worse when a life is extinguished in a church rather than in a clinic?