simulated martyrs
simulated martyrs
American Christianity has always shown a genius for bottling and mass-marketing the mountaintop experience. Beginning with Charles Finney's efforts to develop and systematize measures that would allow us to have spiritual revival on our own schedule, evangelicals have refined the revival system to the point that we can fill a stadium for a weekend, take hundreds of thousands of paying and praying customers to ecstatic heights, and still have them back at their desks on Monday. Youth camps turn out temporarily fervent Christians by the thousands. There are conferences that will enhance your spirituality for you in the woods, on the ski slopes, near a golf course, on a cruise ship—even on a mountaintop.
A recent and related innovation has been the marketing of the vicarious Christian life. For awhile you have been able to take a short-term trip and experience the difficult life of a missionary—within limits, of course, and with the understanding that after a little while you'll return to the comforts of everyday life. And now we hear that an especially creative youth ministry has created a way for us to vicariously experience persecution, through their Complete Underground Church Service Simulation.
The simulation is described as follows: "This is part adventure game, part worship and celebration. Your kids' first task of the evening event is to elude the secret police of a corrupt, anti-Christian government, and locate safe houses run by the Christian underground. Then they travel to the meeting house, a secret secluded location for celebration and worship, with reminders of what ancient and modern Christians have endured in order to meet and worship together."
And if you're caught by the secret police? "Prison is a darkened room at the church. While sitting in the darkened room, prisoners hear sounds of interrogation, torture, and guns firing blanks. (Use good judgment as to how much realism is appropriate for your group.) In the end, underground commandos rescue their captured fellow believers and take them to the meetinghouse, but the commandos act as if not everyone got out alive. Those who died can be memorialized at the worship service."
No mention of what happens to the simulated martyrs. Simulated heaven, perhaps?
the electric tongue
A friend of mine read an article on the Razormouth web site recently and told me that he was disappointed with the biting sarcasm of the article. Go figure. That's why it's called Razormouth and not Honeylips. But I have heard this same concern from many people. There are too many flaming vituperations and not enough brotherly encouragement going around. Furthermore, of the massive glut of articles concerning some theological something-or-other, many of them lament the lack of tactical wisdom in much of Reformed rhetoric. However, many of these lamentations come from people who then turn around and chew up someone else's ideas or opinions. It doesn't make sense. Wise men wisely notice the proliferation of abusive language, but (can I say foolishly?) retort with the same 500-mega-watt electric tongue.
Maybe the key to disentangling this ball of yarn is contained in the yarn and not the tangle. Why place an article on, say, Razormouth (which condones sarcasm), to caution me against being so razor-mouthed? Using a flawed method of communication to condemn that very method doesn't accomplish much. It's almost as confusing as being on the government school board and complaining about how destructive the government schools are.
And what if the Proverbs are right in everything they say? (To answer that for the few who may still doubt: the Bible is the inerrant, infallible rule for all of life.) The Bible says that a wise man receives knowledge, but a fool scoffs at instruction. With that said, it would seem to be unnecessary to belch flames at someone wise enough to learn. On the flip side, arguing with a fool all day only profits laryngitis. I'm not suggesting being mushy and sweet. Make yourself like honey and the flies will eat you. But, make your mouth like thorns, and you will punch holes in your own tongue. Just imagine how funny you'll sound. It's like holding your tongue in your fingers and trying to talk.
remembering the old fleabag
In our last issue, I wrote a little bit about Christian and Pagan burial rites. That is human burial rites. Now, in the last few weeks, billboards have popped up around town for a new pet funeral and cremation service in the area. They claim to offer advanced pet care planning, trust funded pre-need pet funeral arrangements, grief counseling and a brand new showroom with a complete selection of the latest in pet funeral merchandise including pet grave markers, pet caskets, pet cremation urns, and other fine pet gimmicks.
This all reminds me of the widow lady whose cat died. She put the dead cat in a little homemade casket, and took it to the largest church in town and told them, "I want to bury my cat." They laughed and ran her off. So she took the cat to the next largest church. They laughed and ran her off also. She did this all across town until she got to a tiny Methodist church on the very edge of town. She took the little casket with the dead cat up to the preacher and told him she couldn't find anyone to hold a service for her cat. The preacher scoffed, "How dare you think we bury cats." The lady turned to go saying, "Well, I just don't know what to do now. I was prepared to pay two thousand dollars to have a service for my dear cat." The preacher quickly reached for her hand and said, "Lady, why didn't you tell me the cat was a Methodist?"