I don’t think of myself as a strong witness for Christ. When I’m among people who are likely unbelievers, I tend to play it safe when the topic turns to religion. There are a number of reasons for this. Partly, it’s just habit. I’ve grown used to [...]]]> Read an comment on my blog.

I don’t think of myself as a strong witness for Christ. When I’m among people who are likely unbelievers, I tend to play it safe when the topic turns to religion. There are a number of reasons for this. Partly, it’s just habit. I’ve grown used to avoiding religion discussions. When I was a child, I didn’t want to be labeled. In fact, I had an inordinate fear of it after being ridiculed as a pansy or a goody-goody. As I matured, this fear turned into an unwillingness to be misunderstood. I would remain silent because I thought the people I was with would not understand what I said.

How unlike Jesus! He repeatedly said things that confused not only his opponents but also his closest followers. When religious leaders asked him by what authority he drove merchants and bankers from the temple grounds, he replied, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it again.” The leaders were taken aback. The temple had been under construction for almost 50 years, how could this man claim to be able to rebuild it in only three days? On another occasion, he told his listeners that they would have to eat his body and drink his blood. “For my flesh is real food, and my blood is real drink,” he explained. Talk about saying things that were ripe for misinterpretation! Yet Jesus said nothing to clarify his meaning.

What was the result? The Jews called him a crazy bastard. They vilified him. He was labeled and called names. He didn’t seem to care.

One thing I’ve recently noticed, however, is that I don’t have a problem discussing religion online. In person I shy away from religious discussion, but on my blog and in my Facebook posts I often choose religious topics. I’m not sure why. I know, for example, that people are often less civil online than in the real world. But talking God-talk online is somehow easier than in real life.

Perhaps it is the perceived distance. Even though hardly anyone reads my blog except friends and family—at least as far as I’ve been able to determine—I have the sense that when I commit words to the ether that anyone who reads them is far away, separated from me by a virtual chasm that cannot be crossed. Perhaps it is that written words can be meticulously crafted. When a topic comes up in conversation, I may be glib, but I cannot be well-researched. Whatever the reason, I feel somehow safer expressing my views online than I do in person. Being online acts for me as a kind of witness protection program, giving me a comforting illusion of safety.

I consider this a flaw in my character. I need to be the same person in real life as I am online.

Here is Newt Gingrich’s take on the Cordoba House, and here is a medieval historian’s response.

The idea of reciprocity sounds great. Muslims can worship freely in America if and only if Christians can worship freely in Muslim countries such as Saudi Arabia. However, reciprocity is [...]]]> Read and comment on my blog.

Here is Newt Gingrich’s take on the Cordoba House, and here is a medieval historian’s response.

The idea of reciprocity sounds great. Muslims can worship freely in America if and only if Christians can worship freely in Muslim countries such as Saudi Arabia. However, reciprocity is fundamentally unAmerican. It presupposes that the United States is a Christian nation and contradicts the first amendment protection of freedom of religion. The United States may be predominately Christian and does indeed have a long tradition of Christian influence. However, the Constitutional framers deliberately excluded any mention of God because they wanted to create a secular government completely independent of the church. They did this because they feared that an ascendant religious sect would seize the power of government to persecute and suppress other religions. They were familiar with the religious wars in England and the rest of Europe and hoped to prevent similar conflicts by safeguarding the government from religious control. They wanted to protect government from religion and also protect religion from the government.

At the same time they clearly recognized the value of religion, particularly Christianity, in shaping morality and ethics. They firmly believed that democracy could succeed only where the people were willing to submit their own desires to the common good. If the people—those who in a democracy constitute the government—simply voted for their own interests all the time, then the government eventually would be controlled by special interests, each intent on its own agenda. As Christianity has declined as a cultural influence in the United States, this is exactly what has happened.

Those who want to prohibit the Cordoba House would grant the government authority to persecute Muslims. Once the government has authority over any religion, it cannot be prevented from extending it over all religions. The result would be a secular state in which all religions, including Christianity, would be restricted. Those on the Christian right alarmed at the shift from “freedom of religion” to “freedom to worship” should be loudest in their defense of the Muslim’s right to build Cordoba House. By attacking it, they undermine their own liberty.

Why is there such an uproar over the so-called ground-zero mosque? I admit, when the issue was first brought to my attention about six weeks ago, I dismissed it. I thought no one would take seriously the claims made about the building because they were so patently [...]]]> Read and update on my blog.

Why is there such an uproar over the so-called ground-zero mosque? I admit, when the issue was first brought to my attention about six weeks ago, I dismissed it. I thought no one would take seriously the claims made about the building because they were so patently untrue. As others have pointed out, it isn’t a mosque, and it isn’t at ground zero. Instead, according to a CNN poll, nearly 70% of Americans oppose its building, which strongest opposition coming from Republicans.

My initial reaction was disbelief: New York can’t possibly be allowing a mosque to be built on the site of the World Trade Centers. My disbelief turned out to be justified. The proposed Islamic community center, dubbed Cordoba House, would be located two-and-a-half blocks from the site of the World Trade Center Memorial. Due to intervening buildings, the site of the Memorial is not visible from the site of the proposed community center. Were it not for the 24-hour news cycle, visitors to the Memorial might never know that an Islamic community center was nearby.

Again I wonder, why such an uproar? Have we really reached the point where unsupported, bald assertion gets as much respect as the truth? Is it really only necessary to proclaim a lie loudly and repeatedly to have it universally believed? Even if, as has been claimed, Muslims have deliberately located the Cordoba House close to the WTC Memorial in order to demonstrate their global dominance, is the United States really so weak that we can’t allow Muslims to make ridiculous claims like everyone else? What, exactly, are we so afraid of?

Americans have a tradition of free speech because it was once believed that in a free society, truth would emerge from allowing free and open debate. We have a free press because it was once believed that a free press would expose self-serving lies and help citizens get at the truth. Now, however, it seems that truth has to take a backseat to whoever has the biggest megaphone, and citizens distrust the press almost as much as they do the government. The free market of ideas has given way to shouting matches between parties interested only in dominating. Every issue moves away from reasoned, dispassionate debate toward gang warfare, Republicans and Democrats alike acting like rival gangs out to secure their turf with all the same bravado, name calling, and aggression. No wonder voters have become cynical.

For the record, I’m not in favor of the Islamic community center. But I also don’t oppose it. The Muslims have a right as American citizens to build where zoning laws permit and to practice their religion in accordance with their conscience. As Christians, our only response must be persuasion through proclaiming and affirming the gospel of Jesus Christ. Any attempts to restrict the practice of Islam will restrict Christianity as well. All those who prize the freedoms guaranteed in the Bill of Rights need to take a long, hard look at anyone wanting to deny those rights to other American citizens.

My nephew, David, posted the following on his Facebook wall about a year after losing his younger brother in a car accident.

It interesting how much one’s views can be altered by experiences. Before my little brother’s death I was an organ donor. It’s seemed like [...]]]> Read and comment on my blog.

My nephew, David, posted the following on his Facebook wall about a year after losing his younger brother in a car accident.

It interesting how much one’s views can be altered by experiences. Before my little brother’s death I was an organ donor. It’s seemed like a simple decision at the time. As I checked the box on the drivers’ license form, I distinctly remember thinking,  “I’m not going to need them. Heck, might as well let someone else who does have them.”

Then my little brother, Scott, got into his car drove off to meet his older brother, Marshall, for a concert. He never got there. Scott was an underage consenting organ donor. He was declared brain dead sometime early on  the Saturday morning following the accident. No brain activity, no blood flow in his brain. He was dead. He would never wake up. Yet he was on life support, most of the rest of his body unharmed. A perfect donor patient. At this point my family had a decision to make. Did we want to go through the organ donating process with Scott’s brain-dead body, or did we simply want to unplug the machines and let the rest of his body realize it was dead? My family decided that Scott would have wanted to be a donor. If Scott had not been a minor, we would have had no say in this matter. He would have been a consenting organ donor of legal age to make the decision for himself. And so my parents got to sit in the hospital for two days and watch their son be dead but not dead. I finally made my way home on the afternoon of the first day, and I saw my little brother for the fist time. He looked like he was sleeping. I wanted to shake him. “Scott, wake up! We’re all here for you, buddy.” He did not wake up. He would never wake up. I sat with him a while. At one point a cheery nurse came in and checked his vital signs. She was very pleased to see how fast his body had come out of shock. Finally, on Sunday evening they wheeled Scott off to the operating room where they harvested his organs. He was finally, truly dead. I remember, it was raining. The organ donating process had taken a heavy toll on Scott’s loved ones, especially my parents.

At that point I decided: I was not going to be an organ donor. I simply could not put my family through that again. I was so adamant about it that I took a permanent marker and blacked out the word “Donor” on my driver’s license. A few weeks later, I was going through security on my way to Korea. The security lady looked at my driver license and said “You don’t want to be a Donor?” I looked her straight in the eyes and said adamantly, “No I do not.” A few weeks after that, I went to the DMV. I was prepared to pay the $35 in cash to have them print me an new driver’s license. I wanted three things changed. I wanted a “Good” picture taken, I wanted my address updated, and I wanted my donor status changed. I told horror  stories at work and warned people to think twice about becoming a donor.

And then my parents told me about a chance meeting they had with the man who got my little brother’s heart. My parents were both very encouraged by meeting him and realized that the agony of dragging out my little brother’s death had allowed someone else to live. After hearing Mom and Dad talk about him, I wanted to meet this man whose life my brother’s death had saved. For the record, I have not changed my driver license back. I’m still mulling over whether I ever will.

Jesus gave a clear and succinct mission to his followers before he left: “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” [...]]]> Read and comment on my blog.

Jesus gave a clear and succinct mission to his followers before he left: “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” It is not hard to understand. It is hard to do.

In fact, it is so hard to do that I basically don’t do it.

Don’t get me wrong. I approve of the mission. I am willing to support those who engage in fulfilling it. I give to organizations that preach the gospel and make disciples. I just don’t do much myself. When I consider what I might do, I feel defeated before I start.

Many years ago when I was a senior in high school, one of the local churches decided to sponsor a door-to-door campaign to reach local neighborhoods with the gospel of Jesus. I went along partly because there was a girl I liked who was participating. Unfortunately, I didn’t get paired with her. I was sent out with her sister instead. We started canvassing houses. Most people were simply not home. Others clearly mistook us for Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses and refused to open their doors. After a while, we came to a house where several young men were lounging on the porch and steps drinking and smoking. I hung back, thinking that these men were not likely to want to hear about Jesus, but my companion walked right up to them and invited them to church. She was an attractive young woman, so they were immediately attentive. Their attentions quickly became crude, but my companion was undaunted. She politely ignored their comments and pressed on, asking them where they would spend eternity. They were plainly drunk and just as plainly entertained. They strung us along as long as they could, and I was only too glad when we finally left.

“That was a waste of time,” I said.

“No,” said my companion. “Who knows what seeds we may have planted.”

“But they were drunk,” I objected.

“Tomorrow they may be sober,” she retorted. “They may think about what we said and be drawn to God.”

It was very charitable of her to say “we” since I hadn’t opened my mouth the whole time. I had been silently praying, but not for her hearers. I had been praying that she would shut up so we could leave. I didn’t think—and still don’t—that we had any positive impact at all. All we had done was to reinforce cultural stereotypes about evangelical Christians. Great.

I love the gospel. I have seen people transformed by God’s power, and I have experienced it myself. I am not ashamed of the gospel. It really is the power of God for the rescue of everyone who believes. But I don’t like doing things that are demonstrably ineffective. I can’t imagine that “make disciples of all nations” means employing some of the silly methods evangelical churches have used over the past several decades in an attempt to reach the surrounding culture with the message of God’s enduring love.

I confess. I gave up. I was wrong to do so, and the thought that I ought to do more has nagged me ever since.

Recently I’ve been thinking about it more. Like most Americans, I spend a lot of time being entertained and little time thinking deeply about the state of the world, the direction its headed, and what I might be able to do about it. Sometimes it seems that our whole world is geared toward convenience. People won’t recycle unless it’s convenient. People won’t volunteer unless it’s convenient. People won’t oppose injustice unless it’s convenient. We regard those who inconvenience themselves as extraordinary. We regard zeal with suspicion. We live in a world where half-hearted efforts garner praise and whole-hearted efforts provoke envy, where ease is the only happiness and hardship the only misery.

I am by nature an optimist. I don’t do dismal, even when I’m out of a job and the economy is still in the basement. I think the world is rife with God’s blessing. Every living thing seeks opportunities to grow and develop. Many of us, however, seem content with little. We content ourselves with movies and music and food and drink when there are things we could do to change people’s lives for the better. I don’t see around me the same ambition that drove pioneers to break up the sod on the Minnesota prairie or caused fur traders to endure extraordinary hardships to feed the demand for beaver hats. Who am I to complain? I don’t see that kind of zeal in myself.

So what do I want? I hardly know. I want zeal with knowledge. I want to spread the good news of God’s kingdom in ways that work.

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