Safe for the whole family?

There is a local Christian radio station that my wife listens to exclusively (or would that be religiously?). The only time I listen is when I am in the car with her. It's not that I'm against Christian music. I don't even listen to FM radio at all. But Christian music doesn't move me like it moves my wife. When it does, it is not the big worship anthems, or the vocal gyrations of the "pop" songs, but rather the quiet, reflective songs that put words to my deepest hopes—and doubts.

The tagline for this local station is "Safe for the whole family." I always wonder, what exactly does that mean? I think they mean that their content and on-air personalities can be trusted not to be objectionable or provocative. And they pretty much deliver on that trust (although I find some of the inane chit-chat of the DJs objectionable just from a communicator's point of view).

I fear, though, that for many, "safe for the whole family" can be a very misleading and even dangerous notion. It infers that there is a safe, protected place where, if we are careful, we can insulate ourselves from harmful influences, harmful thoughts, and harmful acts. In other words, from the world at large.

If there is such a place, I haven't found it, and I've been around almost six decades.

It cannot be found by hiding in the church. Christians by the hundreds are being killed for their faith. Even Christians in countries where there is freedom of religion find themselves mocked, reviled and marginalized. To hide in our "Christian ghetto" with others just like us is to avoid the issues. It is also to avoid being salt and light to a sick and dying world.

Safety cannot be found by hiding behind God. Please notice, I did not say hiding in God. The Psalms alone won't let me get away with that. I simply mean that it is wrong to hide from the world under the robes of God, as if we were chosen because we were holier than those outside. Nope. We were chosen to become holier, but we started out in the same place, and truth be told, we are still probably more like those without our club than we are like God.

We cannot even be safe in Christ. Did He not say that if you want to follow Him, you must "take up your cross"? Didn't the apostle Paul (who never had Christian radio) pray that he would "share in His [Christ's] sufferings" because he (Paul) knew that simply knowing is not the same as sharing? Jesus said: "And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell." (Matthew 10:28) He was talking about himself. Does he sound safe? I am reminded of Mr. Beaver's comment in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, as he describes the great lion Aslan, a type of Christ: 

“Safe?" said Mr. Beaver."Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.” 

The dangers, as I see it, of the well-meant "safe for the whole family" mindset are manifold. Perhaps most of all, it insulates us from the fallen world. It gives us a false notion of purity, a heightened sense of other's sin, and sometimes a dulled sense of our own. It also suggests that true Christianity is best lived right in the middle of the road, away from the dangerous shoulders. But at the edges is where life is truly lived. That's where ministry takes place. That's where love, mercy and grace are most needed. In John 4:1-30, Jesus met the Samaritan woman at a well, not in the temple. She wouldn't be allowed in the temple. The side of the road is where Paul met Christ (Acts 9:1-9). It is where we will find the man beaten by thieves (Luke 10:25-37). Let us not be like the priest and the Levite, who hurried by (perhaps singing a catchy song?).

A safe place. It's a nice place to visit sometimes, but I wouldn't want to live there.

In fact, I can't. And shouldn't.


—Wayne S.

The Gospel as short short story

   

As a writer, I appreciate economical writing. Not exclusively—two of my favorite writers are Stephen King and Pat Conroy, famous for wordy, expansive tomes. Yet, like great design, the best writing usually occurs when nothing remains that can be excised. 

   One of the most interesting books I have read in the last decade was a collection of "55 fiction"—short stories consisting of exactly fifty-five words. It is a challenge, but offers great reward; you get to the end between sips of coffee!

   Ernest Hemingway, famous for his economy, is rumored to have penned this short short story:

             For Sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

   You can spend hours reading that, and reading into that.

   There are 930,243 words in the King James Version of the Bible. It spans from the beginning of the earth to the creation of a new heaven. No one could ever call it economical word-wise. Yet we are told that every word is God-breathed and meant to be heard and read. In other words, it IS as lean and concise as God wants it to be.

   So I am not suggesting a replacement for any word in offering the following: How would I condense the story of the Bible (which I feel is ultimately the story of Jesus) into just six words?

  My humble suggestion:

We couldn't. Jesus did. Follow Him.

--Wayne S.

Can you be a criminal and a Christian?

   A blog I read on occasion is Friendly Atheist. It is the work of Hemant Mehta, a math teacher in suburban Chicago (and who is, indeed, a friendly atheist). On September 8, 2011, the title of his blog entry was:

If People of Faith Commit a Crime, Do They Still Represent the Faith?

   Mr. Mehta then referred to a study by the Brookings Institute and the Public Religion Research Institute. The study reveals that, if a Christian were to commit a terrorist act in the name of religion, 83% of Americans would declare that person as not a true Christian, while only 13% would say that you COULD be a Christian and a terrorist.

   The survey also found that, asked the same question about Muslim terrorists, the numbers are much closer: 48% say NO, while 44% say YES, a Muslim terrorist is probably a true Muslim.

   The blogger's only comment about the findings are this: "How's that for a double standard?" Well, it is, for sure. But I guess it bodes well for Christianity in general that we are disassociated with violent acts in the name of religion (although some think otherwise). As an aside, I think it is worth noting that the most horrific and brutal acts in history were carried out by people who, like Mr. Mehta, professed no faith at all.

   But I'm sure Mr. Mehta (and the Institutes) would never have thought to ask an even more provocative question, and it is this:

   Isn't being a criminal actually a prerequisite for being a Christian?

   I think the answer to that question should be an unqualified, emphatic YES! For at the heart of Christianity, as Christ taught it, were two hard truths: 

   First, Man is a criminal, if not for crimes against humanity, then for crimes against divinity—rebelling against and denying a God who made him and sustains him.

   And second, judgment has been passed and a sentence has been handed down. But strangely enough, the penalty has been paid for the crime, and we can walk free, if we admit our guiltiness and accept the payment.

   I have said in the past that a church is "a wonderful community made up of murderers, adulterers and thieves." If you've worked it out how to atone for your own shortcomings (sin, in Biblical parlance), or you disagree that you have any, then neither Christ nor Christianity will be your cup of tea. But if you have doubts...

—Wayne S.

P.S.: For those of you who like to get your sociology freak on, the above mentioned study is fascinating stuff. 

C. S. Lewis on WWJD

It depends, of course, on what you mean by ‘practising Christian’. If you mean one who has practised Christianity in every respect at every moment of his life, then there is only One on record—Christ Himself. In that sense there are no practising Christians, but only Christians who, in varying degrees try to practise it and fail in varying degrees and then start again. A perfect practise of Christianity would, of course, consist in a perfect imitation of the life of Christ—I mean, in so far as it was applicable in one’s own particular circumstances. Not in an idiotic sense—it doesn’t mean that every Christian should grow a beard, or be a bachelor, or become a travelling preacher. It means that every single act and feeling, every experience, whether pleasant or unpleasant, must be referred to God. It means looking at everything as something that comes from Him, and always looking to Him and asking His will first, and saying, ‘How would He wish me to deal with this?’

--C. S. Lewis in God in the Dock

Editor's note: One thing that bugs me to no end is when writers—or at least smart people—put the period or comma outside the quotation marks. This is never, under any circumstance, to be done... unless you are a British writer, as Mr. Lewis was. If English-speaking Europeans are your market, then you may do so. That is why it is such in the quote above. And why s is substituted for z or c in many words.

For you

   Dear friends, let us look into the ocean through which Christ waded for us. He was without any comforts of God on the cross. No feeling that God loved him, no feeling that God pitied him, no feeling that God supported him. 

    God was his sun before, now that sun had become all darkness. Not a smile from His Father, not a kind look, not a kind word. 

   Nobody ever loved God and got this from God and yet loved anyway. Nobody ever loved people and got this from people and yet followed through. He went to hell for people. He was without a God as if he had no God. All that God had been to him was taken from him now. He had the feeling on the cross of being condemned. 

   He must have heard the judge say, ‘Depart from me, Ye cursed. You who shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of His power.’ That’s what he heard. 

   He felt that God said the same to him. Ahh, this is the hell which Christ suffered. Dear friends, I feel like a little child, casting a stone into some deep ravine in the mountainside, listening to hear it fall but listening in vain. It’s too deep. The longest line cannot fathom it. The ocean of Christ’s sufferings is unfathomable. He was forsaken and in the place of sinners. 

   If you grasp Christ as your surety and mediator, you will never be forsaken. From the broken bread and the poured out wine, do you not hear the cry arise, ‘My God, my God why hast Thou forsaken me!’ 

   And do you not hear the answer, ‘For you!’ For you.

—Robert Murray M'Cheyne, Scottish Presbyterian minister (1813-1843)

Labels

It has long been my belief that "Christ plus anything cheapens Christ." Does that mean that the truest thing about me is Christ in me? I think it does. And if I carry the unsullied Christ in me, it seems to follow that He will be most useful to others through me when there is the least of me. 



I also believe that "Anything plus Christ redeems anything." That means me first, my family, my friends and neighbors, even my country. 



The trouble is, I am pressed, from within and without, to adopt other labels. People don't often understand what a Christian is, but are quick to define a conservative, or Republican. Many, usually unbelievers, conflate the two. Past actions by many (including me) make that easy. 



I have come to think over the years that these labels cheapen Christ in me, and I find myself sloughing them off, and speaking (when asked, mostly) about the issues, not the labels. I find myself more and more entering into conversations, situations, even confrontations that I would not have approached before, and having real dialogue, exhibiting real love. I come as a lover of Christ and His world, not a representative of any ideology. I want to hear a name that is not mentioned much in political discourse: Jesus.