Skip to content


Implausible Murder


I’ve become a fan of NCIS. I watch an episode almost every night. I like it. (I’m currently on season 7, so don’t worry about reading any spoilers for a recent episode.) Every once in a while, however, they come up with a plot that is so full of holes, it should never have seen airtime.

Case in point, this episode, called Code of Conduct. At the end the episode it is revealed that the murder was committed by the victim’s step-daughter, a short, teen-aged girl. She planned the murder and intended to frame her step-mother. She bought duct tape and a garden hose using her step-mother’s credit card and used those items in a somewhat clumsy attempt to make the murder look like a suicide. All of that is fine as far as it goes, but there are lots of details that do not make sense.

If you are going to take the trouble to deliberately murder someone, you certainly aren’t going to leave anything to chance. Along with your planning and preparation—making sure you have an alibi, throwing suspicion on someone else—you certainly will not neglect to use a method that will guarantee your victim ends up dead.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing but admiration for the writers of crime dramas tasked with coming up with ever more innovative, even bizarre, ways of divorcing souls from bodies. Nevertheless, I can’t help thinking that one crucial criterion for a planned murder is this: Is the plan certain to succeed? Does it depend too much on chance?

In this episode we are asked to believe that this girl was smart enough to make a plan to make her step-father’s death look like a suicide. She bought the necessary supplies. Yet the means she actually used to kill him was to bring him a thermos of liquid nitrogen, telling him it was coffee. She apparently gave no thought to the possibility that he would pour it into a cup before drinking it or that he would simply look at it and wonder why it didn’t look like coffee or that he might take a tentative sip (thinking it was hot) instead of taking a fatal gulp. It’s not that I can’t imagine a Marine gulping down coffee without looking at it. It’s that I can’t imagine a murderer relying on that behavior to commit the murder.

But that’s not all.

The murderer was discovered because she drove her dad’s car and left the seat adjusted for her small body. She brought him the fatal drink, waited until he was dead, then manhandled his six-foot corpse into the car parked in the driveway, attached the garden hose to the exhaust pipe and threaded it through the window and plugged the holes with duct tape. She did all this in the driveway where everything she did would be visible from the street. In fact, there were kids next door throwing TP into a tree and laughing the way only teen boys laugh, and they were the ones who discovered the Marine’s body. Again, it’s not that I can’t imagine a teen girl having the chutzpah to put a corpse in a car where any passerby could see it. It’s that I can’t imagine that being part of a well-designed plan.



The New International Version of the Bible consistently translates the Greek word “σαρκος” as “sinful nature” in contexts where it refers to that part of a person that tends toward sin. Older translations had it as “flesh,” and I think something is lost in the newer rendering, namely, the connection with the body. Indeed, it seems that this connection is the very one that the translators sought to sever in changing the translation from “flesh” to “sinful nature.”
God has no body. He is spirit and is not limited by physical form. He created people as an amalgam of body and spirit. We are not merely physical nor pure spirit. God created animals that have no spirit though they live and move as we do and even exhibit certain kinds of intelligence like our own. He also created angels, which are pure spirit and have no bodies. People alone of all his creation (so far as we know) are made of body and spirit combined. Not until God had created people did he declare his creation “very good,” and Christian tradition has held that both body and spirit are good. God spoke all things into existence by the power of his word. But when he created people, he got his hands dirty (Gen 2:7). So God took a very personal interest in the making of people and made them just as he wanted them.
Nevertheless, when the New Testament writers write about the active principle within us that causes us to tend toward sin, they called it “the flesh.” They recognized that sin arises from appetites and desires, and that our desires come from our own flesh. We all experience desires: hunger, thirst, sexual desire, the desire for comfort and security. All these desires have a wholesome and appropriate expression. But the body seems to know nothing of what is wholesome or appropriate. A plate of cookies may tempt me no matter how many calories I’ve had recently. If I yield, I risk gluttony. In the same way every evil desire arises from the flesh: lust, greed, hatred, envy, conceit—each clamors to be fulfilled at whatever expense to our well-being and integrity.
The reason for this state of affairs seems to be that our bodies are not yet redeemed. God has given life to our spirits, but our bodies remain the same old bodies we always had. They will not be redeemed until the resurrection. Thus Paul writes that “we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. (Rom 8:23-24a)” He makes it clear that our great hope is to be free at last—not of our bodies, for then we would be but half-redeemed—but of our flesh. While we live in the body, we are still subject to the desires of the flesh. We must put to death the flesh by the Spirit of God. This does not mean, as some have supposed, that we mutilate our bodies or practice some kind of self-torture. It means that we are to oppose the desires of the flesh by yielding to the guidance of the Spirit. “Mortifying the flesh” means saying no to its evil desires; it means developing the habit of saying no so that the flesh grows weak and dies.
Christians often contribute to the mind–body split by saying that when you die you go to heaven, and that’s that. But heaven is not our destination. The Bible clearly tells of a resurrection of the body, when those who have been redeemed get new, incorruptible bodies, free at last of the sinful nature that dogs us now. It tells of a time yet to come when God re-makes the world and the city of God comes down to earth and he makes his dwelling with us. We will go to him when we die but only so we can return with him when he comes to reign. Our destiny is to be united, body and spirit, for all eternity as God intended from the beginning.


John the Baptist, Jesus, and his followers all called on their hearers to “repent.” It’s a religious word that has lost its meaning. It conjures up images of homeless men bearing hand-lettered signs: “Repent or perish.” It seems to belong to the fringes of fundamentalism, a seedy, down-at-heel, countrified Christianity. It’s no longer fashionable to preach repentance. Yet repentance is still needed, perhaps more than ever.

The concept of repentance includes not only change but remorse. It is, in fact, change driven by remorse. Not all remorse leads to change. There is a remorse that sees the injury done or the fault committed as irremediable. Such remorse leads only to despair. But godly remorse leads to change. The first change that must take place is a change in thinking. The call to repent, therefore, is primarily a call to change your mind. It involves seeing things differently and responding to the new reality.

John, Jesus, and his disciples followed the exhortation to repent with a reason. “For,” they proclaimed, “the kingdom of God is at hand.” It’s time for a change because God’s kingdom is right at your elbow. Kingdom is another of those religious words that has lost much of its meaning. God’s kingdom is where his will holds sway, where he is respected and esteemed according to his magnificent worth and his will is promptly and gladly obeyed. To say that his kingdom is at hand implies that God will no longer tolerate rebellion in the hearts of people. He is calling all people everywhere to change the way they have been thinking about themselves and their lives in the world, to turn away from their rebellion and surrender to his rule in their hearts and lives. Lest the prospect of giving up one’s independence seem too great a price, he promises indescribable joy to those who do it. So the message holds both the threat of judgment and the enticement of eternal delight.

Repentance is neither easy nor pleasurable. Moreover, it is not something you can just do like taking a walk or brushing your teeth. Repentance begins with a sense that maybe, just maybe, the cause of your unhappiness, the source of the emptiness you feel lies within you. You begin to suspect that it is not that the world is out of whack; you yourself are out of whack. What’s more, you have not been merely mistaken, like a child who gets its sums wrong. No you have been willfully, culpably rebellious and self-centered. You have not known God or honored him. In fact, you have turned away from every intimation that you might know him, and done everything you could to make yourself look good even though you know you don’t deserve it. You begin to lose the esteem you’ve so carefully nurtured for yourself. You start seeing yourself as a coward, a bully, a hater, a betrayer of those who have trusted you, an arrogant and selfish pig. Instead of flinching from these revelations, you feel a deep sorrow and regret for your behavior, and you resolve to know just how deep your own depravity goes. You examine yourself and find yourself shot through with wickedness on every level. It seems that you have never desired anything that was good or beautiful for its own sake but only for the use you might make of it. You may cry. You may grieve over yourself as if you had died, though, in fact, you discover you have never been alive.

Then comes a moment of clarity, and your understanding of everything changes. You recognize that Jesus has a right to demand everything of you and give you nothing in return. Instead, he demands everything and offers you a life that death itself cannot overcome. With fear and trembling you return to him, hoping against hope that he will accept you. While you are still on your way, he meets you and sweeps you up in an embrace that crushes all doubt out of you. Suddenly, you find yourself enraptured by his love. You read the Bible like letters from a lover at war. You realize that there is nothing he can ask of you that you won’t do or attempt.

This is what Christians mean by repentance. To the hellbent world it is foolishness because they have to lay down their weapons and surrender. To religious hypocrites it seems unnecessary because they have always done what was right in their own eyes. But to those who repent, it is like being born again: trauma and pain followed by a new world of unimaginable splendor.