Deflection—the Bad and the Good

Familiar these days is the tendency among the guilty to deflect the blame anywhere but toward themselves. Some plead of ignorance or misunderstanding; some accuse others; some declare, “I had no choice,” or “So-and-so made me do it.”

This practice of blame-shifting is not just common in the 21^st century. Not hardly. In fact, it’s been going on since the beginning of earthly time. Remember what Adam’s defense was when God confronted him with his sin? God asked him directly, “Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” (Genesis 3:11b, ESV).

Sounds like a simple yes-or-no answer to me. But, “The man said, ‘The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit of the tree, and I ate’” (Genesis 3:12, ESV).

Now technically speaking, there was nothing untrue about what Adam said, but notice the order in which he said it. First, he blames God, “reminding” Him that it was He who created Eve in the first place. Next he blames the woman for giving him the fruit. Only then does he confess, “I ate.”

And lest we women out there start getting all high-and-mighty, let’s not forget what Eve’s response to God was when He asked her point-blank, “‘What is this that you have done?’ The woman said, ‘The serpent deceived me, and I ate’” (Genesis 3:13, ESV). Again, a technically true statement but an obvious deflection nonetheless.

Ever since our original ancestors spoke these words, we their descendants have followed in their footsteps. We have perfected the diabolical art of evading responsibility—except, that is, when it comes to accepting praise rather than blame.

Just as we are quick to try to deflect guilt by casting blame away from ourselves, so we are quick to welcome adulation when anything goes right—even if we don’t actually deserve the credit. But one God-follower whose life is recorded in Scripture gives us a wonderful example of deflection of a positive sort.

Let’s take a look at a day in the life of Daniel…

Daniel was a Jew who had been taken to Babylon when his homeland had been invaded by the kingdom from the east. Earlier in his life, he had made a courageous stand with three of his friends to stay true to his convictions and not partake of the sumptuous food given him in the royal training program in which he had been enlisted. This wise decision resulted in his being of better appearance than his peers, and, at the end of his training he and his friends were reckoned as “ten times better than all the magicians and enchanters that were in the kingdom” because of the “learning and skill” God had given them (See Daniel 1).  

That brings us to the day in question when Daniel is taken before Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon who has recently decreed that all the kingdom’s wise men (of whom Daniel was one) be put to death for failing both to identify and to interpret the king’s disturbing dream. Daniel and his three friends have sought the Lord upon learning of this decree, and God has answered their prayers by making known to Daniel the contents of the dream and its meaning (See Daniel 2:1-25).

We meet up with Daniel as he is standing before King Nebuchadnezzar…

“The king declared to Daniel, whose name was Belteshazzar, ‘Are you able to make known to me the dream that I have seen and its interpretation?’” (Daniel 2:26, ESV)

If you were Daniel and you had been asked this question, knowing that previous answers of “no” had elicited an angry death-decree from the imposing regent, how would you have answered? I don’t know about you, but I probably would have quickly answered in the affirmative: “Yes, O king, I can.”

If Daniel had answered that way, he would have been technically truthful, just as Adam and Eve were in their responses to God in Eden. After all, he did, at that point in time, possess the ability to meet the king’s demand. But was that ability intrinsically his? Not even close. Daniel recognized this and was quick to deflect the credit to whom it was due:

“Daniel answered the king and said, ‘No wise men, enchanters, magicians, or astrologers can show to the king the mystery that the king has asked, but there is a God in heaven who reveals mysteries, and he has made known to King Nebuchadnezzar what will be in the latter days . . .” (Daniel 2:27-28a, ESV, emphasis added).

Daniel went on to describe and interpret Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, and the king’s response is striking. Granted, he did “pay homage” to Daniel, but he, a pagan ruler, also “answered and said to Daniel, ‘Truly, your God is God of gods and Lord of kings, and a revealer of mysteries, for you have been able to reveal this mystery’” (Daniel 2:47, ESV).

Daniel’s good deflection, then, resulted in God’s receiving praise not only from Daniel’s initial statement but also from Nebuchadnezzar’s response.

So what’s our takeaway from this tale of two deflections?  First, and probably most familiarly, we should avoid blame-shifting and own up to our own errors and sin. But another reminder we don’t hear nearly as often is that we should be faithful to point the praise in the right direction too, namely to God and away from ourselves. After all, isn’t everything we have from Him?

Let’s learn to turn incoming compliments into moments of opportunity to share the glory, goodness, and grace of God. Let’s strive to seek after God to the point where His physical provisions and spiritual blessings are so evident to us that we can’t help but give Him the credit for all we have. In short, let’s be Daniels instead of Adams and Eves.

Lessons from Literature: The Process of Change (Silas Marner)

Literature can be a goldmine of applicable lessons. Sometimes these lessons can be drawn from the narrative itself, where the character’s actions and words provide a teaching point. An example of this kind of lesson can be seen in the first post of this series that examined a portion of Pride and Prejudice.

Other times, however, an author writing from a position of complete knowledge about the characters and storyline (called an omniscient perspective) will include an aside as commentary that often contains profound nuggets of truth. One such authorial comment can be found in George Eliot’s Silas Marner, first published in 1861.

Let’s begin with a little context.

Silas Marner, the protagonist of the story, is a man who has become obsessed with his gold and who would today be called a “loner,” though he was not always one. But circumstances in his life and his own response to them has caused him to reach the point where it can be said of him that “year after year, Silas Marner had lived in this solitude, his guineas rising in the iron pot, and his life narrowing and hardening itself more and more into a mere pulsation of desire and satisfaction that had no relation to any other being” (68).

One day, to Marner’s horror, he finds that he has been robbed of his precious coins, and he ventures out to the local tavern to make the theft known to the community . . .

This strangely novel situation of opening his trouble to his Raveloe neighbors, of sitting in the warmth of a hearth not his own, and feeling the presence of faces and voices which were his nearest promise of help, had doubtless its influence on Marner, in spite of his passionate preoccupation with his loss. Our consciousness rarely registers the beginning of a growth within us any more than without us: there have been many circulations of the sap before we detect the smallest sign of the bud (108, emphasis added).

Here we find Eliot’s moment of reflection as she displays a truth about the nature of change. It’s easy to think of change as something sudden, an abrupt shift in circumstances or attitude. But as this passage from Silas Marner explains, change is often gradual and even imperceptible, particularly when it is internal.

This knowledge can serve as both an encouragement and a warning, for internal change can be either for the better or for the worse. In the case of Marner’s story, the change is a positive growth instigated by a number of factors, one of which is his interaction with his fellow neighbors in seeking their assistance. But negative characteristics can bud and blossom too, and many times they do so in small, incremental steps or “circulations of the sap” that we fail to notice if we are not vigilant.

Maybe you’ve woken up one day to realize that a friend that you’ve been hanging out with has rubbed off on you in a negative way, changing your attitude or outlook for the worse. Maybe you’ve overlooked slip-ups on the “little things” time and time again to the point where you’ve fallen into a strong trap of sinful thoughts or behavior.

Those of us who are followers of Christ should be reminded that we must be alert and mindful that even small decisions can have a powerful and cumulative effect on our growth in holiness and our relationship with God and others. Thankfully, we don’t have to try to “manage” ourselves on our own (although we do have responsibility in the matter). We have the Holy Spirit within us who convicts us when we go astray and has the power to strengthen us so that we can be alert and can resist the little (and big) temptations that come our way.

Even those that do not know Christ for themselves have God’s gracious gift of a conscience that provides internal signals concerning right and wrong, and the same Holy Spirit brings conviction to them, as well, of “sin and righteousness and judgment” (see John 16:8-11).

But there is the other side to the equation, too; not all internal developments are negative. As we saw with Silas Marner, the result of gradual change can be positive as well. Indeed, positive change often is gradual. Believers especially can find encouragement in this truth, knowing that sanctification (i.e. the process of becoming more like Christ) is a process.

When discouragement is knocking at our door and we feel as if we are not growing in holiness at all, we can remember that God “who began a good work in [us] will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6, ESV), and we can be confident that God is always at work “circulating the sap” to produce the buds of holiness and the fruit of the Spirit in our lives.

Citation: Eliot, George. Silas Marner (New York: Penguin, 1985).

Problematic Providentialism: Recognizing It When You See It

Last time, I touched on the topic of providential history and explained the problems it can cause, such as perpetuating a skewed view of God and of the United States. Because providentialism can be so problematic, it’s important that we be able to recognize it when we see it.

Sometimes spotting providentialist language is easy, but other times the cues can be subtle, so let’s take a closer look at the example mentioned last time—Peter Marshall and David Manuel’s The Light and the Glory.

Right off the bat, there’s a big red flag in the banner topping the cover, which reads “God’s Plan for America.” What’s wrong with that? Doesn’t God have a plan? Well, yes, but remember that we move from believing in God’s providence to espousing providentialism when we propose to identify that plan for a specific geopolitical entity, such as America.

At the end of what functions as the first preface, Marshall and Manuel write, “Almost two and a half centuries later, the key to the moral and spiritual crisis now plaguing this country remains: Did God have a plan for America? If He did, then the reason we are wandering in a moral wasteland, no longer knowing who we are, is that we have lost His plan” (12, emphasis original).

First of all, notice that the authors’ diagnosis for America’s rampant immorality is not that individuals do not have a personal, life-changing relationship with Jesus but that we have failed to fulfill God’s plan for us collectively and thus have lost sight of our [supposed] identity as God’s second chosen people. This is a common theme of providential history—a focus on corporate morality and virtue as both a means to and a measure of prosperity instead of on individual regeneration through Christ that leads to increased holiness through sanctification for the purpose of glorifying God. 

But there are other providentialist characteristics in the passage quoted above. Notice the use of the past tense “did” and the final phrase about losing God’s plan. The implication is that God’s purposes can be thwarted by human behavior, which of course is utterly false. While it is true that we can live in a way that is contrary to His will as revealed in Scripture, to suggest that our doing so somehow derails His divine plan for the course of human history is to suggest that God is not truly sovereign. Thus, in this instance, providentialism is directly counter to the doctrine of God’s providence.

Later, the authors suggest that “at times of great crisis God raised up great leaders to protect America from destruction so that His plan for us might have a chance of success” (24). Notice anything fishy here? How about the word “chance”? A theologically sound view of God’s providence includes the understanding that God’s plans will prevail no matter what. They don’t need a chance to succeed; they will succeed. Period.

Another red flag to watch for is selective memory, particularly when it comes to American history. Once again, Marshall and Manuel provide a prime example in a passage that I quoted in the previous post. They stated that “the first settlers consciously thought of themselves as a people called into a covenant relationship with God similar to the one He had established with ancient Israel” (17). The context of this quotation reveals that the authors are referring to the Pilgrims who arrived in America in 1620.

Admittedly, the Pilgrims did come to the New World for primarily religious reasons. But by the time the Pilgrims arrived, the settlement at Jamestown had been in existence for thirteen years and had produced a number of subsequent settlements along the James River (see Hatch 1957). These settlers, while they may or may not have been genuine believers, were certainly motivated by other factors than the desire to expand God’s kingdom on earth.

And that’s just the English settlers. If the Pilgrims were truly God’s chosen people to settle the New World, then what do we make of the Spaniards who settled St. Augustine half a century before? Similarly, Marshall and Manuel identify Columbus as “the person that [God] used to bring Europeans to the Americas,” saying nothing about the Vikings who predated Columbus’s voyage by hundreds of years (19). This kind of picking and choosing only those facts and sources that support their argument is bad history and is also highly frequent in providentialist writings.

In summary, here’s what to watch for: attempts to identify the specifics of God’s plan in the details of historic or current events (aside from those identified in Scripture, e.g. fulfillment of prophecies concerning the coming of Christ), disproportional mentions of morality instead of salvation, conditions placed on the fulfillment of God’s purposes, and selective acknowledgment or dismissal of historic facts and/or original sources.

If you encounter any of these characteristics in articles, books, sermons, television shows, or documentaries, there’s a good chance what you’re dealing with is providentialism.

Citations: Hatch, Charles E. Jr. The First Seventeen Years: Virginia, 1607-1624. Charlottesville, Vir.: University of Virginia Press, 1957. 

Marshall, Peter and David Manuel. The Light and the Glory: 1492-1793. Rev. and expanded ed. Grand Rapids: Revell, 2009.

Problematic Providentialism: America—A Christian Nation?

In my last post, I mentioned the common opinion among many Christians that America is (or at least was originally) a Christian nation and stated my disagreement with that assertion. This time, I’ll be exploring that issue because I think it important that we have a proper view of America and more importantly a proper view of God and because I believe that assigning America the title of “Christian nation” distorts our view of both, not to mention our understanding of what it means to be Christian.

Before I address the validity of the “Christian nation” assertion, though, it’s necessary to define it. As Russell Moore explains in this short video (which I would highly recommend watching), the claim being evaluated is not that America is home to many people who call themselves Christians but rather that America is a special nation who has a special covenantal relationship with God that is evident from the time of our early settlers.

Another term for this approach to looking at our nation’s past is “providential history,” espoused most famously by men such as David Barton and Peter Marshall. The term “providential history” can be disarming for Christians because we do believe that God is sovereign and that He providentially works in all things. This is in contrast to Deists, who see God as the Creator who then stepped back to be a distant observer, thoroughly unconcerned with occurrences on earth.

That God is intimately concerned with us humans, however, is clear. Take a passage in Isaiah for example. In the midst of revealing that He will use a pagan king (Cyrus) to accomplish His purposes, God says “‘I form light and create darkness, I make well-being and create calamity, I am the LORD, who does all these things’” (Isaiah 45:7, ESV). In the next chapter, God states, “I am God, and there is none like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish my purpose,’ calling a bird of prey from the east, the man of my counsel from a far country. I have spoken, and I will bring it to pass; I have purposed, and I will do it” (Isaiah 46:9b-11, ESV).

Elsewhere Scripture is filled with examples of God’s using weather, people, and nations to accomplish His purposes, but while Scripture is clear that God is not unconnected from His creation and that He has an end to which He is bringing all things, we must be careful not to misapply these truths about God, as providential history does, to declare that America’s role as a nation-state in God’s plan can be specifically identified.

As one of my college history professors explains, providential history takes things a step further from the belief that God is providential to the belief that it is possible (and good) to determine exactly why events happen and to articulate specifically how they fit (or do not fit) into God’s plan. In short, it places us in the position to explain God. Anybody else see the issue here?

We’re talking about the God who says “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:9, ESV). Are we really prepared to assert our understanding to the same level as God’s? Somehow I don’t think it’s really a good idea to presume that we can always identify why God allows things to happen the way they do. After all, look at the response Job got from God when he made such a presumption!

But it’s not just our view of God that is at stake here; our view of America should be accurate too.

Although I admittedly haven’t looked into this, I’m fairly certain that providential history is a uniquely American phenomenon. What I do know is that providential history in America places our country in a significantly high position in the scheme of God’s plan, a plan which providential historians have no qualms in articulating. They also assert that this means we were founded as a Christian nation.   

The most glaring objection to the idea of a “Christian nation,” as Dr. Moore mentions, is that technically speaking only individuals can be Christians. Becoming a Christian involves personal belief in Christ’s atoning death on the cross and repentance of one’s sins and thus cannot happen to a collective entity. That angle aside, however, the position that providential history assigns to America elevates the country to “Teacher’s pet” status, wrongly imputing special divine favor to the nation, just as the nation of Israel had in the Old Testament. This can lead to a mistakenly high view of our own importance both in relation to God and to the rest of the nations.

In fact, there is no Scriptural basis for America’s being the “New Israel.” Providentialists Peter Marshall and David Manuel explain in their book The Light and the Glory (which is part of their three-volume series revealingly titled “God’s Plan for America”) that this idea was one which the Puritans (early settlers to North America—but by no means the first settlers as the authors call them) themselves coined. In Marshall’s and Manuel’s own words:

 “Further browsing in the history section [of the Harvard Book Store] revealed that the first settlers consciously thought of themselves as a people called into a covenant relationship with God similar to the one He had established with ancient Israel. The Pilgrims and Puritans, looking at the parallels between the ways in which God had led them to America and the Old Testament stories of God’s dealings with ancient Israel, saw themselves as called to found a “New Israel” (in their phrase), which would be a light to the whole world” (17).

I could go on a lengthy critique of the authors’ historiography here, but even accepting the Puritans’ view as a given, suffice it to say that their holding to this belief should by no means be enough for us to embrace it ourselves. As thinking Christians, we are to hold every claim up against Scripture to test its validity, and the claim that America was given a special mission from God (to the exclusion of other nations) finds no support in the Bible.

Yes, the Puritans could have been thinking of the Great Commission call that believers have—the call to spread the gospel throughout the world—and would have been completely justified in looking at their settlement of America through what we would today call “missional” eyes. But to believe that “God had put a specific ‘call’ on this country and the people whom He brought to inhabit it” and that “In the virgin wilderness of America, God was making His most significant attempt since ancient Israel to create a ‘New Israel’ of people living in obedience to biblical principles, through faith in Jesus Christ,” is to vastly overstretch the matter (20). 

As is most often the case with providential history, the authors are using the Puritans’ words to assign to America what should properly be assigned to the Church. The Church is God’s instrument of advancing His kingdom, not America. Have American Christians been used by God to spread the gospel to the four corners of the earth? Absolutely. But they are members of the Church who just happen to be American. There are other brothers and sisters in Christ from all over the world who have done and are doing exactly the same—including sending missionaries to America.

We must be very careful not to inflate our egos or to project the promises and purpose given to the Church onto the nation that happens to be our home. We must evaluate messages that we encounter in light of the Truth of Scripture, recognizing that untruths can often sound very much like truths—indeed, can be slight distortions of truths.

So how do we recognize providential history when we see it? I’m so glad you asked… ;) Stay tuned next time for some examples of providential history and explanations of how to evaluate them.

Citation: Marshall, Peter and David Manuel. The Light and the Glory: 1492-1793. Rev. and expanded ed. Grand Rapids: Revell, 2009.

Praying for America: Is It Worth It?

I’m guessing the title of this post might have raised a few eyebrows, especially from the most patriotic among us. How could you even ask that question?! some might be thinking. Of course it’s worth it!

Yes, I agree that it is. But sometimes it’s really, really hard. 

Perhaps I should start at the beginning…

There are those that hold to the idea that America was a “Christian nation” at the time of its founding and has since slipped away to the point of its no longer being one. (In case you were wondering, I am not one of those people, but that’s a topic for another post…) Those who profess this view are usually the most outspoken about praying for America, with the goal of returning the country to its [supposed] former Christian glory. Citing 2 Chronicles 7:14, they often seem to promote prayer as a bargaining chip with which they can secure God’s favor and healing for the nation.

This type of talk has always left me with an unsettled feeling (and not just because of the questionable application of the 2 Chronicles verse), for it tends to present the assumption that if only we would increase our morality we would deserve God’s blessings and He would necessarily pour them out on us. Of course, to be fair, the element of genuine repentance is not always absent from such calls to prayer, but even it is often portrayed as a means to the end of God’s favor.

After some time of observing this perspective exhibited, I began to think about the justice of God. Knowing that America is not God’s chosen nation (again, a topic for another post), I began to feel it rather arrogant of any Americans to assume that we were due any special consideration from God at all. When you look at all the ways America has spat in the face of God and has lived directly counter to His Law, not just in the past few decades but over the whole course of our history as a nation—and even through our colonial history, it becomes a wonder that God has been as merciful and gracious to us as He has.

Also knowing that there is no Scriptural guarantee that America will continue to exist for any particular length of time and that there is a Scriptural guarantee that things will only continue to get more wicked and lawless as time goes on, it should not be alarming or surprising to us that immorality is as rampant as it is.

It was as I began to ponder these things that I began to ask the question, “Is it worth it?” We know things are supposed to get worse before Christ returns, so what good will praying for things to get better do? And how can we be so daring as to ask the almighty, righteous God of all space and time to continue to be merciful to a nation so broken and belligerent as ours?

But then I heard J.D. Greear preach at the Southern Baptist Convention in 2015. His sermon was about judging and how misconstrued that term often is in our society. In describing the true meaning of the word, he gave a litmus test to show whether or not we are truly judging someone. One of the tests was whether or not we brush a person (or nation of people) off as hopeless, as beyond saving. If we do this, then we are judging them. And judging people is not our job; it’s God’s.

Ouch. In hearing this message, the Holy Spirit convicted me that in this way I was guilty of judging my fellow human beings in many instances. Even in my approach to thinking about America, I was guilty of this. As I looked at all the evil in our nation, cynicism rose up, and I began to think it not even worth asking God to spare us one more time.

But who am I to decide when God’s judgment will or should be poured out?

Yes, things are going to get worse and worse, but that does not mean that God will not relent for a time. The Bible is full of examples of God’s postponing or relenting from judgment because someone cried out to Him on behalf of the people. And that is totally His prerogative. Who am I to try to dictate God’s timeline?

And who am I to identify someone as beyond saving? I, whom God would have been totally justified in condemning, have been forgiven and pardoned instead. So if God saw fit to have mercy on me, then why would He not be willing to have mercy on this nation?

As I came to recognize, assigning condemnation to others not only is sinning against them but also is usurping the authority of Almighty God and is failing to ascribe to Him the characteristics with which He describes Himself: “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6, ESV).

Heaven forbid that we presume such an assault on the character of God. After all, it is this very character that is the basis from which we can cry out to God for mercy in the first place. He is merciful because of Who He is, not because of who we are or what we have done.

So to answer the question of the title: yes. Praying for America is most definitely worth it because we know that our God is merciful even as He is just. And while we cannot be sure of what His answer will be, we can—and should—still plead wholeheartedly for our nation, asking that God will awaken hearts and minds to the Truth of His Gospel.

Let us pray, then, for the Church in America, that God will drive us out of our complacency and apathy to fulfill our calling of making disciples. Let us pray that God will be merciful to us and to those who are His enemies as we once were. Let us pray that His kindness will draw them to repentance (Romans 2:4) and that they will experience the abundant joy that is ours in Christ Jesus. Let us pray for God to do a mighty work in this country, not only for our good, but ultimately for His glory.

Use of the Nazi Name and its Effect on Collective Memory

Name-calling is a common phenomenon in our society, particularly in politics. This is nothing new; a perusal of congressional speeches from the early years of our nation will reveal a flamboyant variety of insults. Yet in the post-WWII years, a historical comparison has emerged as a new slur: calling someone a Nazi or drawing the connection to Hitler. In fact, memes comparing each of the current presidential candidates to the fascist dictator are not infrequent when scrolling through a news feed.

Such a comparison essentially has become the ultimate low-blow—if you really want to draw the connection between an opponent and evil, you throw in a Nazi reference. Yet because Hitler and the Nazis presided over unspeakable acts of horror, and because most of the persons labeled with the term these days are not guilty of anything close to Nazi-level atrocities, the comparison is often shrugged off as overblown or considered taboo.

So what’s wrong with that? you might be thinking. Isn’t that a good thing?

Well, yes and no. Of course, aside from the obvious foundational assertion that it’s generally better to avoid name-calling, period, it’s especially a good idea to avoid applying inaccurate names to someone—or associations blown out of proportion. So in that sense, it’s a positive thing that flippantly or maliciously calling someone Hitler has little potency.

But another consequence of the frequency and subsequent dilution of the term(s) is negative. In effect, it seems that in the collective memory of our nation, the true force and character of what Hitler did have been relegated to meme status, and Hitler has been reduced to a caricature used to insult a political opponent. The labyrinth of unfair or inaccurate labels makes it increasingly probable that any accurate comparisons or warning calls will be lost in the maze or will fall on deaf or dismissive ears.

This probability is troubling because when warnings are issued based on past realities (in this case, realities of the early-to-mid 20^th century) it is in our best interests to heed them. This is, after all, part of the value of studying history—learning from the mistakes of the past and acting accordingly in the present and future. And when it comes to Nazi Germany, there is an important lesson to learn…

While Hitler is often associated with extreme racism resulting in the Holocaust, it should not be forgotten that the Holocaust wasn’t a spontaneous event, nor was Hitler ruling in a vacuum. Conditions were ripe in Germany following World War I for a National Socialist (Nazi) party to rise and take control. Not only had Germany lost what was then known as The Great War, leaving its land, population, and economy decimated, but also it was saddled with an unbearable war debt and its people insulted to the core by having the official blame for the war laid at their feet in the Treaty of Versailles’s War Guilt Clause.

It was in this climate of extreme dejection and hopelessness on every front that Hitler’s calls for a renewed nation-state rang out. By promising to step in and take control, he appealed to the people’s wounded nationalistic pride and desire for economic security. Never mind the fact that his promises were empty and his methods dictatorial; the people were willing to give him power because they were blinded by any number of things—fear, hatred, desire for comfort, etc.

Once the people viewed Hitler as their supreme leader and had given over control of nearly every element of their lives to the government, their minds were disarmed to the further, dangerous propaganda that flooded their lives and dehumanized significant portions of the population such as the Jews. Again preying on fear, hatred, and prejudices, Hitler and his underlings were able to brainwash the population into turning on their fellow man.

Instead of asking How could they do that? How could the people be that blind?, we would be wise to recognize that we are humans just as they were. We are susceptible to the same fears, the same desires for comfort and security, the same seeds of prejudice. And when things are going badly, we have the same longing for a savior.

So let us try to discern if the comparisons of modern figures or ideas to Hitler or Nazism are legitimate, and, if they are, to beware. Let us look back on the Nazi regime and take heed lest we lower our guard and give up our freedom. Let us root out any prejudice that might linger and grow into a monstrous weed. 

If there is fear or uncertainty, let us look to the One who holds each day for all eternity and who promises never to leave us. Let us turn to the only One who can change hearts and minds and can replace anger or apathy with a supernatural love. Let us turn from our wretched state to the spiritual blessings in Christ (Eph. 1), with full confidence that He will give us His strength to face whatever lies ahead.

Called to Compassion

Compassion. The American Heritage College Dictionary defines the word as, “Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it” (4^th ed., 292). It’s a quality often associated with Jesus, and rightly so. James 5:11 and Matthew 9:36 are just a couple of verses which speak to the compassion of Christ.

As followers of Jesus, it is understood that we are also to show compassion to others as He did. But do we really understand all of what that entails? It may be easy to show compassion when everything in our life is going well, when we don’t have burdens of our own, but is that the only time we are to show compassion?

An example from Jesus’s life strongly suggests the answer is ‘no’: 

“Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a desolate place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Matthew 14:13-14, ESV).

This account is not very striking until we understand the context. What is the “this” that Jesus has just heard? We find the answer in verses 10-12:

“He [Herod] sent and had John beheaded in the prison, and his head was brought on a platter and given to the girl [Herodias’s daughter], and she brought it to her mother. And his disciples came and took the body and buried it, and they went and told Jesus.”

So Jesus has just heard that John the Baptist has been beheaded. Not only was John his cousin and friend, but he was also the one who prepared the way for Jesus and announced the beginning of His ministry. And now he is dead, not from natural causes but at the hand of a wicked ruler who entrapped himself with a foolish promise (see vv. 6-9). On top of that, John’s death wasn’t just prompted by revenge (see Mark 6:19, 24), but his head was paraded around as a trophy at a party.

With this backstory in view, we now have a fuller picture of Jesus’ mindset leading into verses 13-14. He is grieving, and He wants to be alone. As is often the way with crowds, however, they have little to no consideration for the emotional state of the one they seek. In fact, they are so determined to be near him, that they follow him all the way on foot.

And it is here, having His sorrowful solitude interrupted by throngs of people all wanting something from Him, that He shows compassion. He does not avoid the people or tell them to go away. He does not explain that He’s really not feeling up to being around people right now and just needs some “alone time.” He shows compassion. And he doesn’t just show it; He has it. He genuinely feels their suffering even in the midst of his own sorrow and takes action to relieve their pain.

This is the One we follow. This is the example we are to imitate. When we are consumed with our own sorrows, we are to break through the fog and see those hurting around us. When we are distracted by our own struggles, we are to turn our attention to those needing encouragement.

This is by no means an easy task. In actuality, it’s nigh impossible to do on our own. Left to our own designs, we will nurse our own wounds and persist in focusing on our own burdens without giving a thought to those who cross our path. We need Someone to help us, and that Someone is the Holy Spirit.

He can fill us with His compassion for others, so that it is not our own faltering love but His unwavering love that shines through. After all, love is part of the fruit that He gives us when we walk in Him. Let us pray, therefore, and ask Him to fill us to overflowing so that through us others may see and experience the compassion of Christ.

Photo Credit: Paulakay Hall