On Death Row For Christ

                Right now, approximately 7,400 miles from Daniels West Virginia, it is around 8pm in the city of Lahore, Pakistan.  44 kilometers away (about 27 miles) in Sheikhupura sits an ancient prison.  Inside, in a cell measuring 8 by 10 feet, a 47 year old woman has been living in solitary confinement for the last five years after being arrested on June 19, 2009.  Her name is Aasiya Noreen Bibi.  She is allowed out of her cell for 30 minutes per day and is permitted a one hour visit per week from her family, consisting of a husband and five children.  Aasiya is on death row, convicted by a local judge in November 2010 of blasphemy and sentenced to death by hanging.  After her conviction Aasiya’s case was immediately appealed to the high court of Lahore and she has been waiting ever since through repeated delays.

                What would cause the high court to delay for so long and so consistently?  You see, Aasiya and her family are Christians in a country where only 1.8% of the population of 186,000,000 share their faith.  In their home village of Ittan Wali they were one of only three Christian families out of 1,500.  And it was in this village where Aasiya’s troubles began.  

In her own words (WARNING - mild language is contained in the following):

That morning I got up earlier than usual, to take part in the big falsa-berry harvest. I’d been told about it by Farah, our lovely local shopkeeper. “Why don’t you go falsa picking tomorrow in that field just outside the village? You know the one; it belongs to the Nadeems, the rich family who live in Lahore. The pay is 250 rupees (ed. this is just over four U.S. dollars).”

Because it was Sunday, my husband Ashiq wasn’t working in the brickworks. While I was getting ready to go to work he was still fast asleep in the big family bed with two of our daughters, who were also worn out after a long week at school. I looked at them with love before I left the room, and thanked God for giving me such a wonderful family.

When I got to the field, around 15 women were already at work, picking away, their backs hidden by the tall bushes. It was going to be a physically exhausting day in such heat, but I needed those 250 rupees.

Some of the women greeted me with a smile. I recognized my neighbor, Musarat, who was the seamstress in my village. I gave her a little wave, but she turned back to the bushes again at once. Musarat wasn’t really an agricultural worker and I didn’t often see her in the fields, so I realized times must be hard for her family. In the end, it was just our lot to be poor, all of us.

A hard-faced woman dressed in clothes that had been mended many times came over to me with an old yellow bowl.

“If you fill the bowl you get 250 rupees,” she said without really looking at me.

I looked at the huge bowl and thought I would never finish before sunset. Looking at the other women’s bowls, I also realized mine was much bigger. They were reminding me that I’m a Christian.

The sun was beating down, and by midday it was like working in an oven. I was dripping with sweat and I could hardly think or move for the suffocating heat. In my mind, I could see the river beside my village. If only I could have jumped into that cool water!

But since the river was nowhere near, I freed myself from my bushes and walked over to the nearby well. Already I could sense the coolness rising up from the depths.

I pull up a bucketful of water and dip in the old metal cup resting on the side of the well. The cool water is all I can think of. I gulp it down and I feel better; I pull myself together.

Then I start to hear muttering. I pay no attention and fill the cup again, this time holding it out to a woman next to me who looks like she’s in pain. She smiles and reaches out . . . At exactly the moment Musarat pokes her ferrety nose out from the bush, her eyes full of hate:

“Don’t drink that water, it’s haram!”

Musarat addresses all the pickers, who have suddenly stopped work at the sound of the word “haram,” the Islamic term for anything forbidden by God.

“Listen, all of you, this Christian has dirtied the water in the well by drinking from our cup and dipping it back several times. Now the water is unclean and we can’t drink it! Because of her!”

It’s so unfair that for once I decide to defend myself and stand up to the old witch.

“I think Jesus would see it differently from Mohammed.”

Musarat is furious. “How dare you think for the Prophet, you filthy animal!”

Three other women start shouting even louder.

“That’s right, you’re just a filthy Christian! You’ve contaminated our water and now you dare speak for the Prophet! Stupid bitch, your Jesus didn’t even have a proper father, he was a bastard, don’t you know that.”

Musarat comes over as though she’s going to hit me and yells: “You should convert to Islam to redeem yourself for your filthy religion.”

I feel a pain deep inside. We Christians have always stayed silent: We’ve been taught since we were babies never to say anything, to keep quiet because we’re a minority. But I’m stubborn too and now I want to react, I want to defend my faith. I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with courage.

“I’m not going to convert. I believe in my religion and in Jesus Christ, who died on the cross for the sins of mankind. What did your Prophet Mohammed ever do to save mankind? And why should it be me that converts instead of you?”

That’s when the hatred bursts from all sides. All around me the women start screaming. One of them grabs my bowl and tips the berries into her own. Another one shoves and Musarat spits in my face with all the scorn she can manage. A foot lashes out and they push me. Even when I run home, I can still hear them complaining.

Five days later, I went to work fruit picking in another field. I’ve almost filled my bowl when I hear what sounds like a rioting crowd. I step back from my bush, wondering what’s going on, and in the distance I see dozens of men and women striding along towards our field, waving their arms in the air.

I catch the cruel eyes of Musarat. Her expression is self-righteous and full of scorn. I shiver as I suddenly realize that she hasn’t let it go. I can tell she’s out for revenge. The excited crowd are closer now; they are coming into the field and now they’re standing in front of me, threatening and shouting.

“Filthy bitch! We’re taking you back to the village! You insulted our Prophet! You’ll pay for that with your life!”  They all start yelling: “Death! Death to the Christian!”

The angry crowd is pressing closer and closer around me. I’m half lying on the ground when two men grab me by the arms to drag me away. I call out in a desperate, feeble voice:

“I haven’t done anything! Let me go, please! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

Just then someone hits me in the face. My nose really hurts and I’m bleeding. They drag me along, semi-conscious, like a stubborn donkey. I can only submit and pray that it will all stop soon. I look at the crowd, apparently jubilant that I’ve put up so little resistance. I stagger as the blows rain down on my legs, my back and the back of my head. I tell myself that when we get to the village perhaps my sufferings will be over. But when we arrive there it’s worse: there are even more people and the crowd turn more and more aggressive, calling all the louder for my death.

More and more people join the crowd as they push me towards the home of the village headman. I recognize the house — it’s the only one that has a garden with grass growing in it. They throw me to the ground. The village imam speaks to me: 

“I’ve been told you’ve insulted our Prophet. You know what happens to anyone who attacks the holy Prophet Mohammed. You can redeem yourself only by conversion or death.”

“I haven’t done anything! Please! I beg you! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

The qari with his long, well-combed beard, turns to Musarat and the three women who were there on the day of the falsa harvest.

“Did she speak ill of Muslims and our holy Prophet Mohammed?”

“Yes, she insulted them,” replies Musarat, and the others join in:

“It’s true, she insulted our religion.”

“If you don’t want to die,” says the young mullah, “you must convert to Islam. Are you willing to redeem yourself by becoming a good Muslim?”

Sobbing, I reply:

“No, I don’t want to change my religion. But please believe me, I didn’t do what these women say, I didn’t insult your religion. Please have mercy on me.”

I put my hands together and plead with him. But he is unmoved.

“You’re lying! Everyone says you committed this blasphemy and that’s proof enough. Christians must comply with the law of Pakistan, which forbids any derogatory remarks about the holy Prophet. Since you won’t convert and the Prophet cannot defend himself, we shall avenge him.”

He turns on his heel and the angry crowd falls on me. I’m beaten with sticks and spat at. I think I’m going to die. Then they ask me again:

“Will you convert to a religion worthy of the name?”

“No, please, I’m a Christian, but I beg you . . . ”

And they go on beating me with the same fury as before.

I was barely conscious and could hardly feel the pain of my wounds by the time the police arrived. Two policemen threw me in their van, to cheers from the angry crowd, and a few minutes later I was in the police station in Nankana Sahib.

In the police chief’s office they sat me down on a bench. I asked for water and compresses for the wounds on my legs, which were streaming with blood. A young policeman threw me an old dishcloth and spat out at me:

“Here, and don’t get it everywhere.”

One of my arms really hurt and I thought it might be broken. Just then I saw the qari come in with Musarat and her gang. With me sitting there they told the police chief that I insulted the Prophet Mohammed. From outside the police station I could hear shouts:

“Death to the Christian!”

After writing up the report the policeman turned and called to me in a nasty voice:

“So what have you got to say for yourself?”

“I’m innocent! It’s not true! I didn’t insult the Prophet!”

Immediately after I’d protested my innocence I was manhandled into the police van and driven away. During the journey I passed out from pain and only came back to myself as we were arriving at Sheikhupura prison, where I was thrown into a cell.

Since that day I haven’t left prison.

                In the intervening years since her arrest and conviction, while the high court has repeatedly delayed her appeal, Aasiya has languished in jail.  Aasiya has to cook her own food, provided by the prison guards, due to fears that she will be poisoned by another inmate.  In January of 2011, Salman Taseer, the governor of Punjab province where Aasiya lives, was assassinated because he, although a Muslim, had spoken out against Pakistan’s blasphemy laws and had supported a pardon for her.  In March of the same year Shahbaz Bhatti, the only Christian member of Pakistan’s cabinet and another who had spoken out in support of Aasiya, was also murdered.

                The high court has been internationally embarrassed by Aasiya’s case.  But they are afraid to give her the appeal she has requested out of fear of radical Islamist militants and the civil chaos as well as personal injury they might cause.  So the government is biding its time, hoping Aasiya will just quietly die in prison.

                Aasiya’s family has been deprived of their wife and mother.  They have gone into hiding because of death threats.  And their fears are very real considering what has already happened to those who tried to support their mother. 

Aasiya’s daughter Alishba had this to say:

" We are praying and fasting for our mother so that she can be with us, I visit her with my father and each time I meet her, i cant stop myself and tears pour out. My mother tries to hold my hand through the gaps between the grilled window and says, have faith in the Lord, He will bring me home one day. Every time I hear these words, I cry to the Lord to bring back my mother so that we can be with her again."

And her youngest daughter poured out her heart in these words:

" It has been months I have not met my mother, I am scared... I just see her pictures and can't control my tears. I fear that I will not be able to see my mother in the condition she is in. As I have the pleasant memories of her when she was with us, so I cannot even imagine what she is going through. 
There are times I even lose all the hope of seeing her ever again, so I want to keep the memories of her smiling and playing with us. If she comes back to us, I will forget this whole thing as a bad dream."

                Voice of the Martyrs has been supporting Aasiya since her arrest.  They are working on a 1,000,000 member petition (currently at 681,239 signatures) to be delivered to the Pakistani embassy in Washington D.C. to plead for Aasiya’s release.  To add your name to this petition, find out other ways you can help, or just to find out more information about Aasiya Bibi’s situation please visit www.callformercy.com.  At the very least please join us each day in praying earnestly and steadfastly for God’s grace to sovereignly intervene on behalf of Aasiya.  Hebrews 13:3 instructs us to “Remember the prisoners, as though in prison with them, and those who are ill-treated, since you yourselves also are in the body.”  An excellent opportunity to obey this command corporately is coming up one week from tomorrow on October 6^th.  We invite you to join us at Daniels Bible Church for our monthly prayer meeting for the persecuted church.

Living In The Cloud

On May 15, 2014 Don Pfleger departed this life.  He was without question one of the best men I have ever known.  If I was forced to choose one quality that I admired the most about Don it would be his humility.  A man who, according to human wisdom, should have had much to be prideful about simply was not.  I have seen him withstand withering verbal public assaults upon his character and actions without saying a word in return.  I have seen him teach complicated theological truths that were difficult to grasp without ever sensing that he was trying to force his own views onto other people.  I have been behind closed doors with Don in highly sensitive and potentially contentious meetings and never did I get the impression that he was trying to throw his weight around in order to arrive at the decision he desired.  In all of these instances the humility of this incredible man of God has stood out to me in stark relief over the years.

And what a span of years they were.  Don watched me attempt to bull my way through life as an ignorant teenager.  He provided wisdom to my future wife and I as we prepared for the creation of our marriage.  He counseled me to be faithful as I contemplated the destruction of that marriage due to my own selfishness.  He engaged me on a deeply intellectual level through four years of exhaustive classes on theology.  He bared his soul to me in small group meetings, never hesitating to display his own weaknesses.  He showed trust in me by asking me be an intern with the Elders of Daniels Bible Church.  He challenged me to get out of my comfort zone and minister through teaching the word of God.  Through all of this I have continued to sense that Don was deeply interested in my life and was coaching me from the sidelines.  He once said to me, in reference to the Christian life; "You are allowed to stumble but if you ever fall I'm going to kick you in the seat of the pants."

This type of challenging yet loving interaction characterized the impact Don had on my life.  And as I drove home from work after hearing that he had passed away an amazing thought occurred to me. 

Hebrews chapter 11 takes the reader through a whirlwind tour of men and women through the ages who lived by and were known for their faith.  Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Rahab, Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, and Samuel.  It reads like a who's who of the Old Testament.  All of these people gained approval from God through the faith He had provided to them.  Yet in their lifetimes they did not receive what was promised because that promised glorification is not complete until all those who are to be saints of God are adopted into His family.  What this means is that we, every authentic disciple of Christ, are joined with these giants of faith in completing the gospel growth that God has ordained for us.  

The Apostle Paul pictures it throughout his letters as a great race to be run and finished.  In this Mediterranean culture steeped in Greek Olympics and Roman chariot races Paul used the symbol of a race to picture the Christian life.  The concept of persevering through trials is symbolized by a runner continuing to run in spite of pain and fatigue experienced in the body.  Finishing the race represents our glorification and completion in being made into the likeness of Christ.  And as it relates to my thought, all of those people of faith mentioned in Hebrews 11 are in the stands as former runners, cheering us on as we stumble, pant for breath, complete laps, keep on running, and ultimately finish our own race.  Hebrews 12:1 explains it perfectly: Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.  

The thought that struck me the other day was this; Don is in that cloud now!  He is a part of the great assembly of witnesses that is cheering for us and exhorting us to keep running no matter the cost.  He is in the stands while we who are alive and remain are tasked with carrying on the legacy left by him and all the other saints throughout history who have preceded us.  Just as he did in physical life Don is, in physical death, still encouraging, warning, challenging, and guiding us.  The only difference is that now, instead of doing it through spoken word he is doing it through our memories of him.  And although we can no longer hear him with our physical ears, God's word makes it clear that he is still very much cheering us on.  

2 Corinthians 4:17 refers to this life and the troubles it carries as "momentary, light affliction."  In no time at all in the grand scheme of eternity this life will be over.  Don, I see the finish line.  I'm not to the end of my race yet and I don't know how long it will take to get there.  But I will see you "soon" dear friend.  I salute you.

Ashamed of the Gospel

Romans 1:16 reads as follows: For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.

Ashamed:  a :  feeling shame, guilt, or disgrace b :  feeling inferior or unworthy

I have been ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ for most of my adult life.  Whether it was due to feeling that I didn't know enough at the time, fear of ridicule, or fear of being looked at differently my reticence has held my tongue on many occasions over the years when I should have boldly proclaimed my allegiance to the lord Jesus Christ.  I don't want to be ashamed any more.  And due to His faithfulness, God has been very gracious in providing me with an chance to prove it.

Recently I was afforded the opportunity to interview for a new position as a central office technician with the company I currently work for, Frontier Communications.  This job would require me to perform maintenance and trouble-shooting on the company's internal network traffic equipment.  In other words, I would be responsible for ensuring that all the different equipment across West Virginia continue to talk to each other.  For anyone who knows me, and knows how much of a tech geek I am, it will be apparent that this job would be right up my alley.  To ice the cake it would be a significant pay increase.

From the beginning I was content to rest in God's will for this situation.  If He willed it I would be happy to take the new job.  If He willed it I would be happy to stay where I was at.  I want to be very clear that this God centered attitude is not due to any merit on my part.  The Lord has made it very easy for me to take this view about any prospective job opportunities, because I am quite content with the position I currently have.

So as I contemplated the possibility of being hired for this position one thing became immediately clear to me.  I did not have the experience with the company's infrastructure that others might have who had probably also applied for this position.  In addition to that I lack a college diploma in a relevant discipline.  So it seemed that I would be at a disadvantage from the outset in terms of my qualifications for the job.  Regardless of any technical aptitude I might have, that is difficult to quantify without a diploma or equivalent work experience.

Thus the question I began to ask myself was "Why would they want to hire me over someone more experienced?".  After some thought, I decided that one thing I bring to the table that someone else might not is Godly character.  Through my relationship with Jesus and the process of sanctification which is a natural result of that my loyalty, integrity, dependability, and honesty have all increased over the years.  Regardless of whether someone has been born again those are desirable qualities in an employee.  So I thought that if I was able to get an interview I could point to my natural aptitude for technology but really try to cement my eligibility with a character based approach.

At some point during the wait to see if I would get an interview a thought sprang into being in my mind.  This could be a fantastic opportunity to stand up for Jesus and risk being shamed for the gospel so that I would not be ashamed of the gospel.  Woah!  This was dangerous ground I was treading into.  After all, even though I was content in my current job, I obviously would like to have the new one.  I did not know the hiring manager's background and thus had no way of knowing whether boldly proclaiming the name of Christ in a business setting like that would torpedo my chances of being hired.  Was I really willing to put my money where my mouth was?  The more I thought and meditated upon these issues I became determined that regardless of the risks involved I had to do this.  How could I lead my family in following Christ unless I was willing to give them an example to follow.  Words are meaningless unless they are accompanied by actions.

The morning of the interview finally dawned.  I needed to drive to Charleston to keep the appointment.  As I drove my thoughts centered upon my sufficiency in Christ and the enabling power of the Holy Spirit.  I prayed "God please give me an opening and help me to have no fear or hesitation.  Help me to represent You well."  I enlisted the aid of others in praying, not that I would get the job but that I would not be ashamed of the gospel.

I arrived at my destination, met the hiring manager, and proceeded with the interview.  We discussed several technical questions, my current knowledge of various company systems, and my prior work experience with situations similar to what might arise if I was employed in this new position.  I patiently waited for the right opportunity.  Finally the moment of truth arrived.  My interviewer asked "Is there anything else you would like to share?".  Bingo!  What proceeded next was something approximately like this: "As I contemplated this position I realized that I might not have the work experience that others will who might have applied.  So I asked myself, why would they want to hire me over someone else who is more technically qualified.  The answer is that technical skills can be trained.  Education can be given to enable someone to perform specific job functions.  But something that can't be trained is character.  Honesty, loyalty, integrity, and dependability is what I bring to the table.  And these qualities of mine are a direct result of my relationship with Jesus Christ.  Whether someone shares that faith in Him is not the point.  The point is that as a supervisor my character is something you can bank on.  This isn't because I am a great person.  It's because the source of my character comes from outside of myself, through my faith in Jesus."

Yes!  Slam dunk!  Game, set, match!

The response I received from this was favorable.  I was not asked anything about the gospel and so there was not an overt opportunity to evangelize.  But I was fine with that.  If God wanted me to share deeper truth I believe He would have opened that door by steering the conversation in that direction.  What was important to me was that I boldly stood up to be counted among the faithful of Jesus Christ.  So in my mind the interview was a smashing success because that was the whole focus of it for me.  I don't know yet whether I will be offered the position or not.  But that is mostly irrelevant for me (I say mostly because again, I wouldn't mind at all having this job) because the goal I had was resoundingly met.  And for that I give praise and thanks and honor to the sovereign Lord who orchestrated the entire situation as He did.

Will you join me in being shamed for the gospel but not being ashamed of the gospel?

Soli Deo Gloria

Cats, Fathers, and Cradles

I think I've always been secretly terrified of being the father described in "Cats in the Cradle" by Harry Chapin.  

For those unfamiliar with the song, it's about a man who is too busy with work and life to be there to spend time with his son.  His son learns to walk while he is away, presumably on a business trip.  For his 10th birthday the man purchases his son a ball.  The boy wants his father to play with the new ball with him but dad has too much work to do.  Throughout these boyhood snapshots the little boy constantly says that he wants to be just like his dad some day.  

Later, we see the son coming from college.  By this time life has slowed down for the man.  He wants to sit and talk with his son who is on the verge of adulthood.  But all the kid is interested in is borrowing the car.  The final scene describes the father after retirement, calling his son to talk.  But once again the son is too busy to spend time with his "old man."  The song concludes as the father finally realizes, in the twilight of his life, that his son did indeed turn out just like him in the worst possible way.

I've linked the song below in case you're interested in hearing it.

I have a love/hate relationship with this "stupid" song.  I love the musical composition.  And Harry Chapin was great at weaving a tale through his lyrical abilities (although apparently the inspiration for the song was a poem written by his wife, but I digress).  But it's such a horribly bittersweet song filled with pain, heartache, and a wasted life that it makes me pensive with thought every time I listen to it.  I've often wondered if there's a deeper reason for the way this song plays with my emotions.

My own father was out of the picture in my life at a very early age; 2 or 3 I believe.  Although I had variously frequent and infrequent contact with him as the years went by I grew up without his daily presence.  I never recall having any mental or emotional issues because of this.  Perhaps it was because the separation happened when I was too young to really grasp what was going on.  Perhaps it's a credit to my mother for working tirelessly to instill a solid foundation of self worth in me.  Most likely it's a mixture of both reasons.

I think it's because of this solid personal stability that I've been blessed with that I have never felt unduly saddened by the disconnection I experienced with my father.  And listening to "Cats in the Cradle" never results in me missing my dad.  What it does do is terrify me.  It terrifies me that I might unknowingly become the father described in the song; so busy with my life that I neglect being a presence in my children's lives.  Logically I know perfectly well that I am nowhere near the man described in the song.  And for that matter I know full well that I am nowhere near my own father, at least in terms of my bond with my children.  Nevertheless, every single time I've listened to it over the years, "Cats in the Cradle" unfailingly manages to produce this subtle paranoia in the back of my mind.  The fear is reinforced as I watch my son grow older and I see how our interests are diverging with the passage of time.  As he grows it seems to take more effort on my part to find ways to spend time with him.  I am tremendously thankful that I see the danger presented by that particular relational cliff now rather than years from now through the crystal clear mirror of hindsight.

I've often wondered if this completely irrational secret worry of mine has its roots in the childhood absence of my dad.  Curious, very curious.  But regardless of where it comes from I won't trade this fear for anything.  I believe fear can be healthy if managed well.  I never want to lose my fear of being a bad father.  It pulls me back from the brink of anger when I'm especially aggravated by the kids.  It keeps me grounded when I'm feeling selfish and tired of sacrificing my time for my family.  It gives me clarity when reflecting the morning after a particularly poor night of parenting.  It keeps me mindful and appreciative of the devotion shown me by my heavenly father.  It drives me to strive to be the teaching father of Proverbs 4:1-9, the compassionate father of Psalm 103:13, and the non provoking father of Ephesians 6:4.

So I will keep this particular baseless and irrational fear thank you very much.

Lens Crafters

As I read through the Pentateuch I can’t help but contemplate the vast difference that can be observed between the theocratic law handed down to Israel by God through Moses and the often democratically fueled cultural relativism that seems to permeate the world view of the average human today. And that's really the crux of the issue; one's world view. What is the baseline, the cornerstone, the foundation of how you perceive the world around you. Does it begin with the ascendancy of your rights and prerogatives as a sentient creature? Or is God's sovereignty and prerogatives the lens through which you see His creation?

Our society’s fixation on personal equal rights for all makes it quite difficult I think to read through ancient Israel’s laws without revulsion and disdain.  It’s no wonder really that God is so often portrayed by people today as a bloodthirsty tyrant who has no place in modern society.  The fuel they typically prefer to use for their fire is the many examples throughout the Old Testament of laws which seem backward and uncivilized to our modern minds.  One example can be found in Deuteronomy 17:2-7.  The Law as given through Moses dictates that if anyone is accused of worshiping other gods in the manner of the heathen nations Israel was going in to dispossess, that person was to be immediately executed if the charges were proven to be true.  This particular law concludes with the sentence “You must purge the evil from you.”  I am confident that any average “modern” citizen of the U.S. or any other western nation would be horrified by reading such a thing.

The reason for the harshness of this law is that Israel was God’s chosen nation.  As such they had to be uniquely holy and blameless to the nations around them so as to accurately reflect God’s attributes and thus showcase His glory.  It was absolutely critical for this to work that the Israelites could not, under any circumstances, engage in the despicable practices (including infanticide via burning to death) of the false religions they were surrounded by.  Therefore God knew that any tendencies toward even the “tamest” of these heathen practices would in time lead Israel down a path of forsaking Him and decreasing His glory and thus necessitated purging immediately and with finality. Even if we do not completely understand how summary capital punishment for an Israelite found practicing pagan idolatry can be right and true we must accept that it is because scripture tells us that God is perfectly just and good (Exodus 34:5-7, Psalm 18:30, Matthew 5:48).

Could God have instead implemented a system of counseling a wayward citizen back from the brink of idolatry or any other approach which might seem less draconian to us?  Perhaps, but that’s really beside the point.  God in His perfectly manifested and perfectly synchronized justice and omniscience chose not to do it that way.  He chose to do it in a manner that best exalted His name.  His glory was and is of paramount importance, not that of one of His creations.  And this I believe is the foundational worldview-shaping truth which is anathema to modern unregenerate mankind.  The idea that anyone or anything in the universe should be ascribed greater worth than oneself is a detestable thought to a heart which has always been and currently is in rebellion against God.

So the question is this.  Who built the lens you use to perceive reality?  Was it you or is it God?  The answer to this question has ramifications far beyond your opinion of justice in ancient Israel.  It will shape how you see everything from the doctrine of salvation to church polity, from the role of women in ministry to forgiveness, from judgment among Christians to evangelism.  If your lens was constructed by you then you cannot help but have a problem with the concept of God’s authority.  It may not manifest itself in every area of your theology but it must come out sooner or later.  And when it does it will be in favor of your rights and prerogatives, not God’s.

Nap Time

Richard Wurmbrand (1909-2001) was a Romanian Christian pastor.  He spent 14 years in communist prisons.  He endured physical and mental abuse the likes of which we cannot begin to imagine because he refused to recant his faith.  The communist governments of the former U.S.S.R. and eastern bloc European countries as well as present day communist countries such as China and North Korea were and are barbarically oppressive of Christians.  A world view such as communism which is predicated upon the state being the supreme authority and benefactor in people's lives cannot tolerate any competing religions which might undermine their power base through belief in a supreme being.

By the way, the state "religion" of any communist regime is classically atheist.  I intentionally use the word religion to describe atheism.  Religion can be defined as "a cause, principle, or system of beliefs held to with ardor and faith."  Regardless of whether we as a culture typically view atheism as a religion it is in point of fact very much one.

But back to Mr. Wurmbrand.  Among the litany of physical tortures he suffered were multiple broken bones, a dozen or so places on his body where his flesh was carved into, 18 puncture wounds, years of solitary confinement, repeated brainwashing for up to 17 hours a day for weeks and months at a time, being frozen to within minutes of dying before being revived repeatedly, and enduring an agonizing separation from his wife and son.

This giant of faith would eventually be released and ransomed by western Christian organizations so that he could escape to the west.  After doing so he founded Voice of the Martyrs, a group dedicated to the relief and advocacy of persecuted Christians around the world.  Today VoM is active across the globe, distributing hundreds of thousands of newsletters each month and providing relief to thousands of Christian martyrs.

Here are three quotes from Richard Wurmbrand on the state of the western church.

•  “I suffer in the west more than I did in communist lands. I suffer in the west more than I suffered in a communist jail because now I see with my own eyes the western civilization dying.”
• “The underground Church is a poor and suffering church but it has no lukewarm members.”
• “The west sleeps.”

Christian, are you as useless as lukewarm water; neither good for cooling and refreshing or for salving and cleansing?  If someone were to sample your "spiritual water" would you be so distasteful that they would spit you out?  Does your mouth profess love for Jesus while your heart is far from him?  Are you asleep in the light, enjoying the comforts of freedom and wealth while the truth and authority of the word of God is slowly and methodically destroyed by the religion of atheism in America?

Awake, sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sound and Fury, Signifying Nothing

My apologies to Mr. Shakespeare for shamelessly stealing part of his line.

Anger.  Is it an emotion?  Dictionary.com seems to think so; it defines anger as "a strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a wrong".  Poor Merriam-Webster apparently doesn't know what it thinks about anger.  Its entry for anger points to angry which points back to anger.  Huh?  Perhaps they think that anger is such a common and obvious piece of the human experience that no one truly needs a real definition of it.  I would agree that with very few exceptions visitors to Merriam-Webster's web site already think they know all about anger.  But perhaps anger has been mislabeled, misinterpreted, and misunderstood by humans since that little matter of fruit in the garden.

I have been studying the book of James lately.  A few weeks ago I ran across a pretty familiar passage but this time it decided to jump out and hit me between the eyes.

James 1:19-20 - Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.

It sounds pretty simple; we should not respond hastily about anything.  I've always accepted it at that level and moved on.  But what happens if we dig into this passage a little deeper?  

Let me set a couple of baselines for my conclusions first.  I'm not going to spend the time to dissect each of these core beliefs in this post.  But it is essential to at least know where I'm coming from, even if you don't know why.

• God is the only absolute good in the universe
• God and by extension His revealed word are the only absolute truths in the universe
• All of reality is defined by the two preceding statements
• Man, as a being created by God, must align his system of beliefs with God's standard if he wishes to hold a world-view that matches reality

With those items as the basis for progression let's look at the end of our passage first; "for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God."  About God's righteousness Psalm 7:11 has this to say: God is a righteous judge, And a God who has indignation every day.  Immediately we see a contrast.  Man's anger does not produce righteousness.  But God can be both righteous and indignant (i.e. angry) at the same time.  Clearly there must be a vast difference between man's anger and God's anger.  Therefore anything we think we know about anger should be automatically suspect.  With that in mind I go back to our web definitions above.  Anger is defined as a feeling, which is a synonym for emotion.  I believe this is accurate in terms of how anger is expressed and viewed by humanity.  But in light of our preceding conclusion that our own understanding is suspect I believe we should be prepared to accept that we might just be wrong about our understanding of anger.  

In other words, we as humans tend to think of anger as an emotional response to a situation we dislike.  But I am suggesting that anger handled the correct way (i.e. the biblical way) is not an emotional response at all.  Allow me to explain.

First I should note that James is not referring to a specific situation or type of encounter here.  His purpose is to present a series of general life guidelines and how we should respond to them.  There is a theme throughout James of actions speaking louder than words but he doesn't get into the meat of that argument until chapter two and after.  This first chapter certainly has elements of it but the individual vignettes contained here are still mostly autonomous.  It's kind of like a section of detailed proverbs, each of which can be applied in a broad sense.  Therefore it is best understood that our passage is intended to be taken in the same way.

So let's take a look at the progression of responses James and the Holy Spirit chose to use.

1. quick to hear
2. slow to speak
3. slow to anger

Taken independently of each other these three elements all can be understood to mean roughly the same thing as mentioned above; don't be hasty.  But what if they are intended to be followed in a chronological sequence?  I believe that paints a very different picture.  

First, we should always be ready to listen to what others have to say.  This should be the initial response to every situation; to hear what is being said.  Sadly, far too often I don't manage to even get past this first step because my own self importance gets in the way and drives me to spout off with what I think I know.  

Only after we have listened fully should we speak, and slowly at that.  I do not believe this phrasing necessarily calls for an actual decrease in the cadence of words flowing out of our mouths (although it might not be a bad idea sometimes).  Rather it points to an increase in the thoughtfulness and care applied to our choices about which words flow out of our mouths.  Instead of dashing off a hasty rebuttal in the heat of the moment we should carefully and critically assess what we are about to say.  

Words are incredibly powerful devices.  Later in his book James calls the tongue "a restless evil and full of deadly poison".  It is not the physical member of our bodies that is being referenced here but that which flows from it.  Words, whether spoken or written, have the power to destroy people and topple governments.  Consider the case of Egypt these past few years.  A regime decades in power eventually toppled by mere words which led to ideas and progressed beyond the ability of those in power to check.  On a personal level, words once uttered usually cannot be completely taken back.  No matter how much one apologizes or how much biblical forgiveness is sought after the specter of poorly chosen words has the potential to hang in the air like a deadly cloud, souring relationships and fueling resentment.  Throw them around hastily at your peril.
Finally, only after hearing completely and responding carefully should the notion of anger even be entertained.  And James emphasizes slowness even here at the far end of our response spectrum.    

I believe the Holy Spirit belabors the point of slowing down because He fully understands how difficult this concept of deliberate measured responses would be for us to understand.  We of the fast 21st century lifestyles who dash off 10 texts in half as many minutes (conservatively!), air inter-personal drama with all 857 of our Facebook friends, and share with Twitter what we had for lunch.  All while surfing 3 news web sites and scanning the RSS feeds of 5 more with the television blaring in the background.

To sum all of this up here is the revelation that struck me as I read James 1:19-20.  Anger is typically understood as an emotional feeling triggered quickly and acted upon hastily.  But the anger that I see prescribed by James is far from a fast response to stimuli.  Rather, it is a carefully considered and reasoned decision about how to deal with a situation.

Thus speaking to the point of this post, I'm not so sure that biblical anger as found in James should even be classified properly as an emotion.  And I don't know about anyone else, but of the many and varied times in my life that I have been angry not many have looked anything like the process described above.  

Sound and fury, signifying nothing indeed...

Soli Deo Gloria