“According to the Scriptures”: What does that mean?

Sermon begins at 22:50

This is our sixth sermon in a series titled, Finally, Some Good News. We have been seeing what the good news is, according to the Bible, learning why it is good news, and figuring out what we ought to do about it. The last time we dug into this, we looked at the astonishing first bullet point in St. Paul’s summary of the gospel, “Christ died for our sins.” We want to go further today and try to get a handle on the explanatory phrase, “according to the Scriptures” and the second bullet point, “was buried.” We will take the burial first.

I know that means going out of order, which will drive some of you to distraction, but the inclusion of the burial here powerfully illustrates a truth we looked at several weeks ago, so going there first will serve as a brief review before we move on. Besides that, the line about Jesus’s burial frequently gets skipped over altogether. But Paul included it, as did each of the Gospel writers and, what’s more, Paul even mentioned it his evangelistic preaching,

But why? What is there to say? He was buried. Stuck in a hole in the ground. There is not a lot of color commentary to go along with that. When preachers go to their illustration files for something to highlight the burial, they usually come up empty-handed.

In the recent past, historically speaking, some preachers and apologists have focused on the empty tomb as proof that Jesus rose from the dead. Those who deny Jesus’s resurrection, they say, need to explain the empty tomb. And people have tried. Some suggest that the women, confused and overcome by grief, simply went to the wrong tomb. When they didn’t find Jesus’s body, they recalled something he had said and jumped to the conclusion he had been resurrected.

There are all kinds of problems with that theory, starting with the chauvinistic assumption that women are overly emotional and directionally challenged. But even if these women were, the disciples who buried Jesus knew where his body lay. And so did the authorities, who were desperate to squelch the news that he had risen. If they could have refuted the error – “Those over-emotional, directionally-challenged women went to the wrong tomb; it is as simple as that. His body is right where we left it” – they would have.

Others have suggested, including Israel’s leaders at the time, that the disciples overpowered the Roman soldiers who were stationed there, removed and hid the body, then claimed Jesus had been resurrected. Again, there are all kinds of problems with this theory, beginning with the idea that a few frightened disciples with two swords between them could somehow overpower a Roman military unit.

But besides that, as Kevin pointed out three weeks ago, everyone of those disciples endured torture and/or execution because they insisted that Jesus rose from the dead. Th torture and executions didn’t happen all at once but over a period of decades and across thousands of miles. The idea that these disciples would die independently of each other over numerous decades for what they knew to be a lie is simply unbelievable.

There is much more that could be said about this. The burial of Jesus, when combined with the empty tomb, is a compelling argument for Christ’s resurrection but that is not why Paul includes it as the second bullet point in his gospel summary. As an apologetic for the resurrection, the empty tomb argument didn’t develop until much, much later. The biblical writers simply didn’t think of it that way.

Then why does the burial merit a place in this brief summary of the gospel? That takes us back to something we saw earlier in the series. The gospel is an announcement of something that has happened. It is not an advertisement. It is not an argument. It is not the offer of a sweet deal. It is a news report. That is why the burial is included. It happened. It was part of the story.

Some of them – Joseph and Nicodemus – were the ones to perform the burial. Some of them – the two Mary’s, Joanna, and others – watched as Jesus’s body was placed in the tomb. The inclusion of the burial in this brief summary reminds us that the gospel is the announcement that something tangible, actual, has happened in real time, something orchestrated by God.

But before he was buried, Jesus “died for our sins.” That was the first bullet point. The Messiah, the kingdom-of-God-bringing king, died. The words “Christ died” feel like an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms. The Christ doesn’t die! The very idea is preposterous. When, in John 12, Jesus signified the kind of death he was going to die, people responded this way: “What are you talking about? We have heard in the law that the Messiah will last forever” (John 12:34).

Yet the gospel announcement is that Messiah died. The rescuer was killed in the act of rescuing people. The king died at the very moment of establishing his kingdom. It is the Bible’s most unexpected twist – unexpected by us anyway. But it was not unexpected by Jesus. He had been warning his friends about what was coming for months.

Nor was it unexpected by God. He knew “before the creation of the world” that his anointed one, the Christ, the Messiah, would die for sins. That had always been the plan. So Paul says, “Christ died for our sins, according to the Scriptures” (1 Cor. 15:3).

That prepositional phrase has sent preachers and Bible scholars scrambling through the Old Testament in search of the texts that Paul had in mind. And the idea wasn’t just in Paul’s mind. All the disciples shared it. Jesus himself had told them, “This is what is written [in the Bible]: The Messiah will suffer and rise” (Luke 24:45). To Cleopas and his friend Jesus said, “How slow you are to believe the prophets. Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things?” (Luke 24:25).

But where in the Old Testament is it written that the Messiah would suffer these things? The hunt usually begins in Genesis 3:15, with the curse of the serpent: “he (the offspring of the woman) will crush your head, and you will strike his heal.” We find symbolism in Genesis 22, when the beloved “only” son Isaac is offered as a sacrifice. We go to Psalm 22, with it odd lines about pierced hands, “counting all my bones,” and laying in the dust of death. Psalm 69 mentions being given vinegar to drink, which, of course, happened to Jesus on the cross. We turn to the symbolism of Jonah, which Jesus himself sanctioned when he said, “As Jonah was in the belly of the fish for three days and three nights, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth” (Matthew 12:40). We find Zechariah’s prophecies of the gentle king who is pierced. There are many others.

Yet, more than any other passage, we think of Isaiah 53, which is quoted directly by New Testament writers on six different occasions. “He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). “…the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Isaiah 53:6). “…he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth” (Isaiah 53:7). “He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death” (Isaiah 53:9). “Yet it was the LORD’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the LORD makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days” (Isaiah 53:10). “…he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors” (Isaiah 53:12).

We know the Gospel writers had these texts in mind because they referred to them again and again. Yet when Paul says, “according to the Scripture”; when Jesus said, “This is what I told you while I was still with you: Everything must be fulfilled that is written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms” (Luke 24:44); they both had more in mind than isolated texts which in hindsight appear to refer to the Messiah’s death. When Paul writes, “according to the Scripture,” he has in mind the story the whole Bible tells.

Remember that Paul was writing this to Gentiles living in Corinth, some of whom had never seen or heard the Bible before he arrived. With his help, those Gentiles had learned how to read the story of the Old Testament. More than that, with his help they were learning how to read that twisting story of sin and rebellion – and redemption – as their story.

Now they had a story long before Paul arrived with the gospel. They were Corinthians. Their city had been around for thousands of years. They had one of the most prestigious universities in the world. They had the Corinthian Games, which rivalled the Olympics and drew elite athletes from around the Mediterranean. They were affluent and influential and cosmopolitan. They were also an economic powerhouse.

The Corinthian story was impressive. When people asked, “Where are you from?” the first readers of this letter could answer proudly, “I’m from Corinth.” Their people had fought successfully in the Peloponnesian wars. They were part of the Achaian League. Their entire city had been rebuilt in 44 B.C. and was, in Paul’s day, a modern, beautiful, thriving place.

But Paul was teaching the Corinthians to locate themselves not on the Isthmus of Corinth but in the pages of the Bible. How absolutely crucial that is to success in the Christian life. They might be proud of Corinth’s history, but when they joined Christ it was the Bible story that became most important for them. It was the Bible story that revealed their true identity. The Bible story signaled who they were now.

The same thing is true of us. It is absolutely crucial that we find ourselves in the pages of the Bible. The most important parts of your story (if you are a Christian) didn’t happen in Michigan or Indiana or Ohio. They happened in Egypt and Babylon and, especially, in Israel. They didn’t happen in your lifetime. They happened thousands of years before your introduction into the narrative. They didn’t happen because of something you did. They didn’t happen because of something your parents did. They didn’t happen because your grandpa fought in the Battle of Midway, or George Washington led the charge at the Battle of Monmouth, or Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

I’m not saying you should not be proud of your grandpa or your country or your state.  I’m saying you should be even prouder of Jesus. Your identity has much more to do with the victory won at Calvary than the victories won at Midway or Saratoga. Our story is the story of the Bible and that is where our identity is found.

Our story is the story of Adam and Eve, the rebels who rejected the rule of God, were exiled from the Garden, and found themselves under the curse. But the story of sin, loss, and alienation – which has been repeated in every human life – doesn’t end there. It goes on to tell of the God who refused to give up on his creation, who chose Abraham and made a covenant with him to reverse the curse and bring blessing to all the people of the earth. It is the story of slavery and exile, but also of redemption and rescue, and it is our story.

Someone might say it is the worst kind of cultural appropriation to filch the story of Israel for ourselves. But this isn’t Israel’s story. It is God’s story. He brought Israel into it through Abraham, and he brought us into it through Jesus, and the story continues to this day. Did we think the world started with us?

It is a story of exile – lostness, weakness, and oppression by powers greater than us. (That is Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, the Chronicles.) But it is also the story of redemption, release, and return. (That is Ezra, Nehemiah, Haggai, Zechariah). It is especially the story of the return of the King and the establishment of his kingdom (2 Samuel 7; Isaiah 52; Daniel 7; Zechariah 12). And we have a place in this story.

The gospel, the good news we share, is always the good news that God’s kingdom has arrived though Jesus Christ. That is the “according to the Scriptures” story. “Christ died for our sins” means what it means according to the Scriptures”; that is, within the story of the restoration of God’s rule – his kingdom – over all the earth. Because he died for our sins, we can be admitted into God’s kingdom as citizens and agents.

But for what sins did Christ die? Surely a little anger, sloth, pride, lust, or greed isn’t enough to bar a person from God’s kingdom? Why, everyone on earth is guilty of such things. If God were to exclude us from entering his kingdom because of sin, there would be no one in his kingdom!

That’s not true. There still would be one person in the kingdom: the messiah, the servant of God, the promise keeper, the covenant mediator, the Rescuer-King, Jesus. “He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth” (1 Peter 2:22). He was what God’s people were meant to be. He did what God’s people were meant to do. He is Israel personified. He is humanity summed up.

We fail to understand why sin should be an obstacle to the kingdom of God because we don’t know what sin is. We think of sin as an I shouldn’t have done that but I’ll do better in the future kind of thing (though, left to ourselves, we won’t do better in the future because sin always grows deeper in and further out).

But sin doesn’t keep us out of God’s kingdom because it is a mistake but because it signals a rebellion. Sin is a seed that bears bitter fruit – greed, lust, anger, sloth, and pride – but the kernel of that seed is always rejection of God’s rule. Our story is about people – starting with Adam and Even but continuing right down to us – who turn away from God and reject his rule.

It is the story of humans suppressing the truth, ignoring God, and replacing him with other gods, ones they themselves have made. You say, “That was thousands of years ago when humans were superstitious and illogical. 21st century people don’t do that kind of thing.” But I say, “The gods have always been shape-shifters and they are as present today as they ever have been. In the prophets’ day, Baal and Molech were among the gods that could make someone successful. People sacrificed a great deal to them, on occasion even their own children. Today the shape-shifting gods have assumed other names: education, economy, science, and politics. If you think people aren’t still sacrificing to these gods – sometimes even their own children – you are fooling yourself.

I’m not saying that education and science and these other things are bad. Quite the opposite: In themselves they are good and it is important we understand that. But when they become a substitute for the God who made us; when we trust in them instead of him; when we turn from him to embrace them – which millions of people across our country have done and are doing – we are on the wrong side. C. S. Lewis was right: “…fallen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must laydown his arms.”[1]

Imagine you work for Citizenship and Immigration Services and it is your job to decide whether someone is granted citizenship or not. One person you interview tells you: “I don’t believe in this country. I won’t sacrifice anything for this country. I believe another country is better and I will serve that country and be a propagandist for it. I don’t promise to be loyal to this country and, if I can find any way around it, I will never pay a cent in taxes. However, I am applying for citizenship and the privileges it entails and I think you should grant it.” What would your answer be? You know what it would be.

But we want God’s answer to be different? We want him to grant us kingdom citizenship when we are serving another kingdom? God wants to grant us kingdom citizenship, but only if we will confess King Jesus as Lord. We simply cannot enter God’s kingdom if we refuse to be ruled by Jesus. That is a contradiction in terms.

Yet that is the nature of sin – to refuse, reject, and replace God. Do you see? We are still in “the according to Scripture” story – the kingdom of God story of rebellion and ofredemption, of sin and of the Rescuer-king who dies for our sin. And, because it is still going on, it can also be the story of forgiveness, a new start, and a life that is finally on track for those who give their loyalty to “Christ [who] died for our sins, according to the Scriptures.”


[1] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (1952; repr., San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2001), 56.

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Forego Thanksgiving, Try Again Next Year?

2020 has been called the annus horribilis (“the horrible year”) and described as hellacious, apocalyptic, awful, and exhausting. The pandemic rages on, with some areas seeing higher infection rates than ever before. Many people are out of work and out of money and, as the coronavirus spikes, some are out of time.

Those who manage to avoid the virus can’t sidestep the measures taken to prevent its spread. In my state, restaurants are closed, mask requirements are in place, high schools and colleges have moved online, and theaters are shut down. Sports stadiums are empty. Churches, like ours, are seeing half their members attending worship gatherings.

Experts warn that the pandemic is causing anxiety, stress, stigma, and xenophobia. A review published in The Lancet linked an increase in mental health problems to the boredom, loss of freedom, and uncertainty caused by quarantine. Children and teens are most at risk.

We have heard the welcome news that an effective vaccine is around the corner, but many Americans are wary of taking it. Even those who are eager for the vaccine may be looking at the summer of 2021 before they are able to get it.

As if the pandemic was not bad enough, there was also the election. Usually after a general election, the nation recovers and, to some degree, reconciles. This year’s election did little to decrease divisiveness but rather increased it. Many people have lost faith in the election process, while others have doubts about the transition process.

The pandemic brought many things screeching to a halt. One thing that did not stop was war. There are serious conflicts in Yemen, Afghanistan, the South China Sea, on the Indo-Tibetan border, in Mali, Nigeria, Libya, Nagorno-Karabakh, South Sudan, Ethiopia, and elsewhere. If only countries and warring tribes would practice greater social distancing.

This year has earned the title of annus horribilis for many reasons, most of which can be located under three categories: loss of comfort; loss of faith; and loss of hope. The first category includes sickness, bereavement, financial need, isolation, stress, and the other physical and emotional conditions that have accompanied the pandemic.

The second category includes loss of faith in experts and authorities. How, under the circumstances, could it not? So-called “expert opinion” can be claimed for almost anything one wants to believe in both science and politics. Experts contradict each other and sometimes themselves – witness the changes regarding the effectiveness of masks and the length of quarantine periods. Who can one trust?

The third category, loss of hope, seems to me to be the most devastating. People can live and even thrive with pain, but without hope they can only shrivel.

So, should we forego Thanksgiving in 2020 and try again next year? Or is it possible to expand our field of vision and find things for which we can genuinely be thankful? That may depend on the person. As someone who believes in God and a larger spiritual reality, I find gratitude not only possible, but also reasonable and powerful.

It is possible to be genuinely thankful in painful circumstances, as long as we retain our faith and hope. I have known people, characterized by friends and family as spiritual, who have demonstrated not only gratitude but joy in the midst of pain. I saw this repeatedly when I worked with Hospice and have seen it many times since.

These thankful people were people of faith. They might not have trusted the experts and authorities, but they had a robust faith in the Expert and Authority – in God. They trusted his intentions, his ability, and his character. Whether they lived or died, they were convinced that God was for them and would take care of them.

They were also hopeful people. It is inspiring to be around someone with a terminal diagnosis who is nevertheless overflowing with hope. I have sat with them, their hope undiminished and their faith unshaken, even as death stole into the room.

If what they (and I) believe is true, we have good cause for faith and for hope. Giving thanks is more than reasonable; it is warranted. Even in 2020, the annus horribilis.

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Thankfulness Is a Predictor of Spiritual Vitality

(First published by Gatehouse Media in 2018)

The holidays are the season for giving, for getting together with family, and for watching movie sequels and prequels. This will be the first Christmas since 2011 that there has not been a hobbit or a stormtrooper in the movie theaters, but Mary Poppins will be back. 

It can be hard to understand what’s going on in a story if you don’t know the backstory. This is not only true in the movies; it’s true in everyday life. The dynamics of the workplace will confound you unless you know that the woman in HR who is married to the boss used to be married to your department supervisor. Knowing the backstory is also important when it comes to understanding the Bible. 

One of the fascinating backstories in the Scripture has to do with the relationship between Jews and Samaritans – as in the “Good Samaritan.” The northern Jewish kingdom of Samaria was conquered in the Assyrian War, its inhabitants deported, and the land resettled by people from other conquered nations. The new residents, known as Samaritans, and their southern Jewish kingdom neighbors did not get along. 

When the Samaritans offered their help in rebuilding the devastated Jewish temple, the Jews refused and told them they were unworthy. Later, according to the biblical scholar William Barclay, a “renegade” Jew married the daughter of a well-known Samaritan leader and preceded to build a rival temple to the one in Jerusalem. A famous Jewish general led a raid into Samaria and destroyed the temple. The Samaritans responded by vandalizing and contaminating the Jewish Temple. 

This is the backstory to the Bible’s chronicle of Jewish-Samaritan relations. It helps the reader understand why Jesus’s disciples wanted to call fire down from heaven on a Samaritan village. It also explains why Jesus’s disciples were shocked to find him speaking to a Samaritan woman – something no other Jewish rabbi would have even thought of doing. 

One of the Bible’s more famous “Samaritan stories” comes from the Gospel of Luke. Jesus was traveling along the border of Samaria and Galilee, on his way to Jerusalem, when he encountered a band of lepers. In the Bible, the term “lepers” signifies people with a variety of contagious skin diseases. Such people were completely cut off from society.  

This particular band was comprised of nine Jews and one Samaritan. They pled, from a distance, for Jesus to heal them and he did. He sent them to the priest, the person authorized to readmit former “lepers” into society, and they all rushed off to resume their old lives. All except one: the Samaritan. 

He came running back to Jesus, shouting praise to God, and threw himself at Jesus’s feet, overwhelmed with gratitude. Jesus looked around to see if any of the Jewish members of the band had returned, but they had not. Disappointed, he said: “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine?” 

There are fascinating aspects to this story. For one thing, we see how isolation can make strange bedfellows. Before contracting leprosy, the Jews and the Samaritan would have had nothing to do with each other but being rejected by society brought former adversaries together. One can see how something similar might happen among Christian traditions that have historically snubbed each other. If society ever anathematizes Christians, which is conceivable, liberals and fundamentalists, Catholics and Protestants, Calvinists and Arminians might finally learn to get along with each other. 

It is also interesting to see that the Samaritan, whose theology was all wrong – Jesus says as much in John’s Gospel – was the only one to get it right. Apparently, being wrong-headed is not as harmful as being wrong-hearted. Perhaps this is a truth political rivals should consider before demonizing their opponents. It is certainly one people of faith should consider before demonizing anyone. 

One would expect that the Samaritan, like his Jewish companions, had a life waiting for him, perhaps a family and a job. Yet he paused to give thanks, suggesting that he did not merely see God as a means to an end but as the end for which life was a means. This, in turn, suggests that ethnicity and religious training are not good predictors of spiritual vitality, but thankfulness is.  

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Deuteronomy and the Root of Bitterness

When I have preached on Hebrews 12 in the past, I have taken the “root of bitterness” that “grows up and defiles many” to refer to personal bitterness harbored toward another for real or imagined ills that have been done. I have warned people against harboring bitterness and urged them to forgive those who have wronged them.

If a person misses the grace of God (I have said), “there will be a price to pay – or, to be more precise,there will be hell to pay: a bitter root will grow up, a root that springs from the very soil of hell; and it will ’cause trouble and defile many.’”

Many years of pastoral experience have led me to this conclusion, and I believe it is an accurate one. I have seen people’s lives, marriages, relations to children and parents, and mental health destroyed because they harbored bitterness and refused to forgive.

I believe this warning remains true. I further believe it has biblical support. I have begun to doubt, however, that this is the point Hebrews 12:15 is making.

This past week, I was reading Deuteronomy 28-30, one of the foundational passages for coming to grips with how Jews in the post-exilic period understood their situation, when I came upon Deuteronomy 29:18. The NIV translates: “Make sure there is no man or woman, clan or tribe among you today whose heart turns away from the LORD our God to go and worship the gods of those nations; make sure there is no root among you that produces such bitter poison.”

I noticed the similarities with Hebrews 12:15. “See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.” Knowing that the author of Hebrews routinely quotes from the Septuagint (the Greek-translation of the Old Testament, completed prior to Christ), I looked up the Deuteronomy passage in the LXX (the Septuagint). Greek readers can find the passage below.

Deut. 29:18 (17 in LXX) μή τίς ἐστιν ἐν ὑμῖν ἀνὴρ ἢ γυνὴ ἢ πατριὰ ἢ φυλή, τίνος ἡ διάνοια ἐξέκλινεν ἀπὸ κυρίου τοῦ θεοῦ ὑμῶν πορεύεσθαι λατρεύειν τοῖς θεοῖς τῶν ἐθνῶν ἐκείνων; μή τίς ἐστιν ἐν ὑμῖν ῥίζα ἄνω φύουσα ἐν χολῇ καὶ πικρίᾳ; [2]

Now here is Hebrews 12:15 in Greek: ἐπισκοποῦντες μή τις ὑστερῶν ἀπὸ τῆς χάριτος τοῦ θεοῦ, μή τις ῥίζα πικρίας ἄνω φύουσα ἐνοχλῇ καὶ διʼ αὐτῆς μιανθῶσιν πολλοί,[1]

Note the repetition of 8 words from Deuteronomy. Also note the similar sounding ἐνοχλῇ (Hebrews) and ἐν χολῇ (Deuteronomy). I have no doubt that the author of Hebrews was thinking of Deuteronomy when he wrote.

That may give a different meaning to what the author of Hebrews wrote than what I have understood in the past. Falling short of the grace of God may be in his mind parallel to ἐξέκλινεν ἀπὸ κυρίου τοῦ θεοῦ ὑμῶν (“turning away from the Lord your God”) to the worship/service of the gods of the nations. This seems especially fitting when we remember the warnings against drifting away, turning away (3x), and falling away made elsewhere by the author of Hebrews.

If this is so, the root of bitterness is not the bitterness I feel toward another person but the bitterness I suffer (as in Deuteronomy) for missing the grace of God by turning away from him and to other things. It is a bitterness that spreads, affecting not only me but the people around me.

I am sure than many people have seen and commented on this. Somehow I had missed it until now. There are always new and interesting (and often challenging) things to discover in the Scriptures.


[1] Nestle, E., Nestle, E., Aland, B., Aland, K., Karavidopoulos, J., Martini, C. M., & Metzger, B. M. (1993). The Greek New Testament (27th ed., Heb 12:15). Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft.

[2] Septuaginta: With morphology. (1996). (Dt 29:17). Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft.

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How to Go Through Post-Election Withdrawal

Politics may be our most wide-spread addiction. With a dealer on every corner, it is always available. Media reporting and commentary provide an endless supply of partisan views.

As soon as someone starts coming down from the last high, a tempting report from CNN, or a Fox News update, or a tweet from the president can draw them right back in. During a general election year, it is possible to remain politically intoxicated for months.

Like other addictions, dosing on politics brings users pleasurable feelings which they then want to repeat. These feelings include the sense of belonging, the gratification of being right, and the heady shot of being in power.

There are deleterious side effects as well. Huffing politics can and often does lead to anger. It leaves one vulnerable to hatred of “the other”. Should one’s side win, it can result in arrogance; lose, and it can result in soul-wounding pride.

During the presidential campaign, I heard stories of how political addictions were destroying families. A pastor friend of mine related the bitter story of a married couple whose adult son warned them that he would disown them if they voted for the wrong candidate. He wasn’t joking.

That is the kind of thing addictions always do. They distort vision, turn priorities upside down, and redefine a person’s identity. They alienate friends and relatives and obstruct the performance of necessary duties. They drain previously enjoyed pastimes of their pleasure.

It is the nature of addictions to grow more demanding over time. This is as true of political addictions as any other. Watching the evening news was once enough. Then it was necessary to download the news app. It wasn’t long before checking the news several times an hour became a habit. Binge watching election results followed.

When something prevents the political addict from imbibing – say a job gets in the way – he or she begins sneaking looks at the latest headlines or covertly reading the president’s tweets. It is the political equivalent of carrying a concealed flask in an inside pocket. Thumb and finger rest on the alt and tab keys in case the boss comes near.

One of the signs that a person is hooked is that they cannot stay away from the object of their addiction. It beckons. It tempts. They can stop but they cannot stay stopped. They start to do something else but, almost before they know it, they are back for more.

A significant percentage of the population may now be on the verge of withdrawals. The election is over. If the president’s lawsuits fail to overturn the results, which seems likely, a new administration will take the reins. News organizations will actually need to look for stories once again. Viewership will diminish. The rhetorical volume will decrease.

It will be the perfect time to break the habit. Delete the news feed. Only check headlines once a day (or even once a week during detox), rather than once an hour.

Instead of watching the news, why not make some news? Attend city council meetings. Write legislators. Start a neighborhood improvement campaign. Join an effort to help people in need. Really, which will make the world a better place: watching cable news or delivering meals to the elderly?

The thing about addictions is that they don’t go away unless they get replaced. Instead of non-stop talk radio, try listening to good music. Put on a sermon a day from a great preacher. Listen to an audio book – try starting with the action-packed Gospel of Mark.

Rather than jumping into an online political brawl, use a Bible app to memorize helpful verses. Join a book club online and enter into discussions – but take care to avoid the latest political potboiler. If you simply must have something political, read Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar.

It might be better to go offscreen altogether. Volunteer at the community food pantry. Get involved in the local church’s outreach efforts. Sign up to deliver Meals on Wheels or to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity.

Put down the phone. Lay aside the mouse. This is an opportunity to reassess values, reprioritize time usage, and create new and more productive habits.

(First published by Gannet)

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Can We Forgive When We Are Still Angry?

(Part three of a previously published series on forgiveness from a Christian perspective.)

One of the great examples of forgiveness in our time comes from Corrie ten Boom, the Dutch Christian woman who, during the Second World War, was arrested by the Nazis for harboring Jews. She was imprisoned, along with her sister, Betsie, in a concentration camp and subjected to brutal and degrading treatment. Betsie, and four other ten Boom family members, died as a result of the treatment they suffered in prison. Only Corrie survived the concentration camps.

Years later, at the conclusion of a speaking engagement, Corrie came face to face with the cruelest and most heartless of all her prison guards. The very thought of him had been too painful to bear. He had humiliated and degraded Corrie and her sister again and again. He had jeered and sexually harassed them as they stood in the delousing shower. He had treated them like animals. In her mind, this man was evil incarnate, the embodiment of the horrors of the Nazi concentration camp. To her surprise, he now approached her with outstretched hand and said, “Will you forgive me?”

Corrie later wrote, “I stood there with coldness clutching at my heart, but I knew that the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart. I prayed, ‘Jesus, help me!’ Woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me and I experienced an incredible thing. The current started in my shoulder, raced down into my arms and sprang into our clutched hands. Then this warm reconciliation seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes. ‘I forgive you, brother,’ I cried with my whole heart. For a long time we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I have never known the love of God so intensely as I did that moment!”

It may surprise you to know that this remarkable woman, who could in one extraordinary moment forgive her greatest enemy, was still at times plagued by bitterness and painful memories. On another occasion, after sincerely forgiving a person who had hurt her, Corrie found that she couldn’t stop rehashing the incident in her mind. After many sleepless nights, she cried out to God for help. She tells what happened next in her own words:

“His help came in the form of a kindly Lutheran pastor to whom I confessed my failure… ‘Up in that church tower,’ he said, nodding out the window, ‘is a bell which is rung by pulling on a rope. But you know what? After the sexton lets go of the rope the bell keeps on swinging. First ‘ding’ then ‘dong.’ Slower and slower until there’s a final dong and it stops. I believe the same thing is true of forgiveness. When we forgive, we take our hand off the rope. But if we’ve been tugging at our grievances for a long time, we mustn’t be surprised if the old angry thoughts keep coming for a while. They’re just the ding-dongs of the old bell slowing down’.”

Corrie continues: “And so it proved to be. There were a few more midnight reverberations . . . but the force – which was my willingness in the matter – had gone out of them. They came less and less often and at last stopped altogether.”

Like Corrie, if a person is to forgive, he must take his hands off the rope, and he mustn’t be surprised if the painful emotions and angry thoughts continue for a while. When such thoughts come, the best way to banish them is to pray for the offender – to pray for his well-being, his health, his family. This is in line with Jesus’ wise instruction: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matt. 5:44).

A person who reaches out to God in prayer every time angry, painful thoughts come, will find both their frequency and intensity reduced, and his or her disposition toward the offender transformed. But not only will the person’s relationship to the offender be changed, his or her connection to God will be significantly strengthened as well.

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A Freedom That Does Not Ring Hollow

It’s been a long time coming. Back around 1969 or 1970, I read in a Popular Science Magazine that everyone would own a flying car by the year 2,000. When the millennium turned and everyone was looking out for Y2K, I was still on the lookout for flying cars. Popular Science did me wrong by getting my hopes up like that.

However, I may get a flying car yet. This month, Klein Vision released footage of a test drive/flight of its version of the flying car. Other design firms are busy with their own prototypes in Europe, Japan, and the United States. All I can say is it’s about time.

Why was I so enamored with flying cars? For the same reason, I think, that I dreamed – this went on once or twice a month for years – that I could jump into the air and sail at a leisurely pace wherever I chose. Flight, whether in a futuristic car or in a dream, represented freedom, the absence of restraint, the power of unimpeded motion.

Freedom is one of humanity’s big ideas. It goes back at least to the political freedoms of ancient Athens, though Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle each criticized the forms such freedoms sometimes took. The great Athenian orator and statesman Pericles once said, “The freedom which we enjoy in our government extends also to our ordinary life … in Athens, we live exactly as we please…”

No people since the Greeks have been more committed to freedom than Americans. James Madison called the spirit of the American people “a spirit which nourishes freedom and is in return nourished by it.” Samuel Adams called the right to freedom “the gift of God Almighty.” Thomas Jefferson cautioned that freedom can only be retained at the price of “eternal vigilance.” Ben Franklin reminded Americans that “Only a virtuous people are capable of freedom.”

Abraham Lincoln referred to freedom as “the last, best hope of the earth.” Dwight Eisenhower said that “America is best described by one word: freedom.” But what is freedom? Are people “born free” or are they, as the old spiritual intoned, on their “way to the freedom land”? What is freedom?

As a political ideal, freedom is embodied in specific rights. Hence, we have the right to assemble, the right to speak, the right to a speedy and public trial, the right to due process, the right to freedom from unreasonable search and seizure, and more. Such freedoms are guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution.

Yet any and all of these freedoms may be possessed by a person who is very unfree in his or her personal life. Such a person may be enthralled by passions, fears, and addictions at the same time they are receiving due process. They may be enslaved by illegal drugs while enjoying the freedom from unreasonable search and seizure.

Political freedom is worth fighting for but it is not the only, nor the highest, form of freedom. A just society requires political freedoms, such as those promised in the Bill of Rights, but a fulfilled life needs a more comprehensive freedom, personal in nature, spiritual in origin.

This is the freedom of which Jesus spoke when he claimed, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” St. Paul was adamant with his readers: “It is for freedom Christ has set us free.” It is a freedom that is consistent with our nature and can only be achieved by becoming one’s true self.  

God is the great emancipator. He desires people to be genuinely free. But this freedom, like political freedom, comes at a price. It is one of the great paradoxes of life: We become free only as we submit to God. As the Scottish poet George Matheson put it: “Make me a captive, Lord, and then I shall be free.”

One major religion makes submission the goal of life, but Christianity sees submission as a means. Freedom is the goal (though not the only one), submission the vehicle, and confession of Jesus as Lord (to borrow biblical language) the path that leads to the goal. And no one is more pleased for people to reach that goal than God himself.

(First published by Gannett.)

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Clearing Away the Confusion Surrounding Forgiveness

(This is part two of a three-part previously published series on forgiveness.)

In what is arguably the most oft-recited Scripture text in history, Jesus teaches his apprentices how to pray. We call this, “The Lord’s Prayer,” or the “Our Father Prayer,” but it might be more accurate to call it, “The Disciple’s Prayer.” It was given as part of Jesus’ brilliant Sermon on the Mount and was meant to serve as a pattern for the disciple’s own prayers.

Jesus apparently felt one part of the prayer, “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors,” required clarification. Immediately following the prayer, he explained: “For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” With these shocking words Jesus puts us on notice: Our forgiveness is related to our choice to forgive.

Experience has taught me that many people struggle with this issue. They know, all too well, that they need forgiveness, and genuinely want to forgive those who have hurt them, but they don’t know how. When the pain of the past still washes over them like ocean waves, leaving a residue of bitterness and profound sorrow, what can they do?

The fact that God’s forgiveness is linked to our willingness to forgive can be unsettling, but one can learn to use that dynamic to one’s own advantage. A person who relishes God’s grace in forgiving his sins will find the grace necessary to forgive others’ sins, which is why Paul says, “Forgive, as in Christ God forgave you.” One ought to give thanks for God’s forgiveness, even bask in it. Only those who have experienced forgiveness can fully extend it.

“Forgive . . . as he forgave you.” If God’s forgiveness is the standard, then we must attempt to understand how he forgives. When God forgives us, for example, does he say, “Oh, don’t worry about it. Forget it. It was nothing”? Not at all. In fact, he takes sin so seriously that he sent his Son to die for it. Offering forgiveness never minimizes the seriousness of the offense.       

The idea that it does has prevented many people from experiencing the freedom that forgiveness brings. If I believe that forgiveness requires me to act as if abuse, deceit, or adultery – offenses that may have turned my life upside-down – are something trivial, best ignored, I simply will not be able to forgive. But the truth is, trivial things don’t require forgiveness; sin does. Forgiveness isn’t – and  needn’t – be offered for idiosyncrasies or foibles or personality conflicts. It is offered for sin. God won’t ignore sin. He takes it so seriously that he insists on forgiving it.

People who have suffered physical and sexual abuse as children often struggle with forgiveness right at this point. If forgiving one’s abuser implies that his or her sin was insignificant, then it can only mean that the victim’s life is also insignificant. But rather than implying that sin doesn’t matter, forgiveness insists that it matters very much.

Forgiving as he forgave us also means forgiving completely. Some people hold out forgiveness like a carrot on a stick or offer it a piece at a time so that they can be in control. But God forgave “all our sins” (Ps. 103:3). Some people use the possibility of forgiveness or the threat of unforgiveness as an instrument to manipulate another’s behavior. This is especially common with parents and their children, but it is always counterproductive. God does not act this way with us, and we must not act this way with others. Forgiveness cuts the chains of the past, it does not use them as marionette strings to control someone else’s behavior.                                    

Does forgiving as God forgave also require us to forget? No, we cannot forget on demand, but we can refuse to remember. Clara Barton, the founder of The American Red Cross, was reminded of an offense, but didn’t seem to remember. Her friend said, “Sure you remember what she did to you!” But Clara responded, “No, I distinctly remember forgetting that!” It’s not that she couldn’t remember, but that she chose not to, which is just how God forgives us.

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Identifying a Cause for Society’s Perforations

President Donald Trump is frequently blamed for the divisions in our society and it is hard to deny that he has been a contributing factor. But the president is like a person tearing a sheet of perforated paper. The perforations were already there.

Those perforations were created by sociological and psychological forces that are constantly at play in our culture. Many of these are well-attested and frequently cited: race and sexual discrimination, wealth disparity, and educational inequality, to mention a few. One dynamic that is often overlooked is the human need for belonging.

Among the life qualities that social scientists and psychologists say contribute to personal satisfaction, none is more important than a sense of belonging. Wealth, goal setting, sexual fulfillment, and even the practice of religion cannot substitute for it. A sense of belonging is a primary human need.

Our church sends students and adults to Tijuana, Mexico to help and encourage disadvantaged children and elderly adults living in some of the city’s poorest neighborhoods. Each year when they return home, they always tell the same story: the people there have nothing compared to us, but they are happy. They belong.

This reality exposes the hollowness of the lone ranger, I-don’t-need-anyone narrative that is so often told in America. People experience the need to belong, whether they admit it or not. That need is not only present in us, it has an impact on our attitudes and actions, even when we are not aware of it.

This has been apparent throughout the pandemic and the run-up to the election. As the coronavirus swept the nation and state after state ordered shutdowns and other measures, people quickly formed opinions about how to proceed. Within a short space of time, two different narratives emerged, one which called for an energetic and proactive engagement and the other an essentially hands-off approach.

The fervor with which people lined up behind these positions, especially in the light of a flood of constantly changing data, was surprising. There was almost a religious fervency to it. An us-against-them mentality was obviously at work, which signaled the presence of the need to belong.

The election has been, to a significant degree, animated by this need to belong. I can join a side, toe the party line, carry the party banner. It helps me feel like I belong to something big. It gives me a platform to stand on and, even more importantly, a people to stand with.

This human need to belong is one of the implements that creates the perforations along which society divides. But where does this need come from? Is it entirely psychological, the emotional relic of our earliest experiences? Is it an evolutionary imperative that protects us in illness and threat?

Without discounting other possible explanations, I would suggest that there is a theological dimension to the need to belong. Christians and others believe that there has been a breach in the relationship between God and humans. This is described narratively in the opening chapters of the Book of Genesis and attested throughout the rest of the Bible. Belonging is to this separation what drinking is to thirst.

The Bible goes on to narrate how the tear that split humans from God continued tearing, dividing humans from humans. This is a principal theme of Genesis 3-11. Along with the estrangement from God came the disjunction between humans.

Because our identity is so wrapped up in our sense of belonging, this rupture not only divided humans from God and from one another, it separated individuals from their own God-given identities. The Bible speaks of “the ignorance that is in [people] due to the hardening of their hearts.” This has left a rift between who a person is and who they perceive themselves to be. The fault line doesn’t just run through the nation, it runs through us.

When a math problem goes wrong, it is necessary to find the initial error. Fixing subsequent mistakes is necessary, of course, but it will not correct the problem. A solution depends on going back to where things first went wrong. When it comes to the need to belong, that means going back to God.

(First published by Gannet.)

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Forgiveness (part 1): Breaking the Chain

Photo by Felix Koutchinski on Unsplash

(In the light of the wrongs perpetrated and suffered across our fractious and fractured society, I am re-posting three previously published articles, one each week, on the nature and practice of forgiveness.)

A relationship with God is like a Baroque music composition: there is a point (what God must do) and a counterpoint (what we do in response). The point/counterpoint structure provides the soundtrack to a life of faith. Point: “He first loved us.” Counterpoint: “We love him.” Point: “He gave himself for us.” Counterpoint: “We ought to lay down our lives for our brothers.” Point: “The mercies of God.” Counterpoint: “Present your bodies as living sacrifices.”  Point: “He has forgiven you in Christ Jesus.” Counterpoint: “Forgive one another.”

When point is present without counterpoint, the soundtrack of our lives loses its power and our talk about God rings hollow. If that continues – God’s work without our response – our children and friends will naturally tune out anything we have to say about God.

There are plenty of examples of the point/counterpoint composition when it comes to forgiveness. Consider these from the lips of Jesus. “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” “For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” “And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.”  “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.”

Listen to the same point/counterpoint structure in the words of Paul. “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”

 “Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” We may be tempted to explain away these challenging words, but we must not do so. This is serious business.

The novelist and teacher Frederich Beuchner writes, “Of the seven deadly sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back – in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.”

 Unforgiveness not only ruins the music of one’s life, it can destroy the instrument as well. People’s lives and relationships – and even their bodies – can be damaged because they either refuse to forgive or refuse to believe that they can forgive. Unforgiveness stops the Christ-follower dead in his tracks, and he cannot follow any further until it is cleared away.

Here is the irony: In refusing to forgive, a person feels that justice is being served, that the offender is being made to pay for his sin. But the person who pays most – both spiritually and relationally – is not the offender, but the offended.

A man was once driving by a farm when he saw something in the farmyard that made him sick: an eagle chained and manacled to a stake. He swung the car around and went back to talk to the farmer. He asked him how much money he would take for the eagle. The farmer quoted some exorbitant sum and the man, without haggling, reached for his wallet. He then told the farmer to unclasp the manacle and free the magnificent bird. Grumbling, the farmer obeyed and released the eagle, but it didn’t fly. It continued to walk in a circle around the stake, as it had done a thousand times before.

This is a picture of the person who, freed by Christ’s forgiveness, still clings to his own injuries. He is chained to his past and will never soar again until he has unlocked the chain that binds him. Whether he realizes it or not, he already possesses the key: Forgiveness. “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.”

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