A Day at the Beach
A Day at the Beach
It doesn't take much to notice a problem. They have a tendency to just stick right out there, right under our noses. Promise Keepers became the single most recognized parachurch ministry in the country about ten years ago when it released its astonishing discovery—men were not leading in their homes. I say good for them. I'm glad somebody not only noticed, but managed to get the word out.
On the other hand, it takes wisdom to discern the source of the noticeable problem. And if we want to correct the problem, we at least need to know what caused the problem. Promise Keepers fell down here, suggesting in essence that men weren't leading their families because they weren't enough in touch with their feminine sides. A few days at cheerleading camp was supposed to turn the whole thing around.
In like manner we don't expect the Highlands Study Center to become the new hot spot of the evangelical world because of our astounding insight. It doesn't take a rocket scientist, nor a chicken farmer to recognize that we in the church are awash in worldliness. It goes without saying, but I doubt that is why so few are saying it. Instead, we avert our eyes from this obvious spiritual train wreck for the very reason that we got in this mess. We don't talk about our worldliness because of the same thing that causes our worldliness. We are worldly, and ashamed to admit our worldliness because we are cowards. It isn't that we're dim witted. It isn't that we have too much compassion for the lost. The problem is this, that we sit down when we make winky.
The truly frightening part of this truth is that in strictly earthly terms we have next to nothing to worry about. We don't live in a country where public profession of faith in Christ makes one dead. We don't live in a culture in which public profession of faith in Christ means you'll never climb to the higher reaches of the party. The worse thing that happens is our neighbors think we're a bit odd, that the gutterati think we are jejune, that the cool crowd might think we are geeks.
What we need to shed our 97 pound weakling self-image is not more knowledge. It is not more shrill attacks on music or movies. We don't need to start lifting weights, or training for the Power Team. We are at war with a world that boldly proclaims that they don't know anything (except of course, that we don't know anything either.) Our enemies are those who believe in peace at all costs, (except of course by conceding that Jesus is Lord.) They boldly cry out that they have no answers, while we timidly whimper that we do. What we need is courage.
Whence comes courage? As we have argued here before, I know of only one source of courage, and that is a well—placed fear. There you are, surrounded by the wild beasts at Ephesus. Maybe it is Professor Nasty giving his daily tirade against the Bible. Maybe it is your good Reformed pal Joe judging people by the color of their skin. Maybe it is an angry mother that insists that she wants to see your little girl in the school play, and that won't happen if you keep up this nonsense of homeschooling. Your palms begin to sweat. It looks like if you speak boldly for the truth, if you take up the mantle of the prophet, that unhappy things will happen. Now the question is, do you have the courage to look into the eyes of Jesus your king and say, "I know you said, 'Do not fear, for I have overcome the world' Jesus, but you were just flat wrong."? Of course such is not courage, but insanity.
There was a great deal of heated discussion a few months ago over whether or not we could characterize the acts of the September 11 suicide bombers as courageous. They faced death squarely, without flinching. But does that make it courage? In like manner we have heard more and more liberal pundits draw the parallel that should be obvious to the world, between Islamic fundamentalists/extremists and evangelical fundamentalists/extremists. We highlighted some of those parallels ourselves in our last issue of ETC. What no one has yet suggested, however, is that we are willing to even suffer, let alone die for our so-called convictions. What keeps us from not driving planes into buildings is not that we have a clear understanding of the nature of the weapons we are called to use, but that we are simply afraid. What keeps the relativists from coming after us is not that we don't carry guns. What keeps them from attacking us is that they have no reason to fear us. We are the Vichy French, alive, but without chests. We are cheese-eating surrender monkeys.
Whether it is uncertain relativists, or certain Muslims, in the great courage race the children of the living God come in dead last. When we approach the battlefield with the world, our first move is to run across the open field and ask to be admitted into the enemy army. "I'll promise to be a good relativist, if you'll just let me keep Jesus-to-me in my heart."
Still, we cannot shame ourselves out of our fear. Instead as we learn to fear God, we discover the joy of fearlessness. As we come to embrace Christ as our all-in-all, knowing that nothing can separate us, we come to see that our reputations, our shallow friendships, and eventually even our lives are nothing. As Paul describes in Philippians, as we embrace the Lord that we fear, we let go of all that we once feared to lose. We toss it all overboard as so much junk. We love the freedom that comes with the courage, and become, whether preaching repentance to Herod the King, or greeting him from a dinner platter, immovable. We become an unstoppable force. We become these who have upset the world, more than conquerors. Let them fear us, because we fear Him alone.