Unraveling the Current Cultural Crisis, Part I

These recent days have been rough. Our country has always had divisions over one thing or another, but of late the divisions seem to be highly emphasized and particularly vicious. As a lover of history and student of it for many years, it’s been particularly trying to observe the swirl of arguments and protests, of people speaking (or yelling) past each other instead of listening and engaging in a civil and reasoned give-and-take.

I’m reminded of the Tom Toro cartoon that is captioned, “Those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it. Yet those who do study history are doomed to stand by helplessly while everyone else repeats it.” Such is my life, it seems.

The current climate, especially since the events in Charlottesville, is just like any other period in history in that it is multi-faceted and incredibly complex. In many ways, it’s been a struggle to perceive what exactly the issues are. Statues? The Civil War? Nazism? Racism? It seems as if the 1850s-60s and 1930s-40s have both rushed from the annals of history and mingled into this amorphous blob with 21st-century social media and self-appointed pundits. So few appear to be serious students of our past, able to perceive its nuanced reality with all of its complexities.

And it’s into this blob that I attempt to tread, not being content to sit helplessly by. I hesitate, though, in writing because it’s such a volatile blob, and the potential for my words to be misconstrued is high, especially given the woeful inability to separate passion from reason that our current society seems to have. Nonetheless, I think it is vital that we try to maintain (or regain) that ability to take an issue, recognize its messiness and complexity, lift it up and turn it around and examine it from every angle, find the nuggets of truth and goodness that should be embraced and the lumps of falsehood and evil that should be rejected, and act accordingly.

So I'm choosing to believe that, if anyone to whom the following critiques apply reads this, they will be able to take a little bit of hard love and will gird up the loins of their minds for some self-reflection and productive analysis of the past and the present.

Ready? *deep breath* Let’s do this.

I grew up in southwestern Virginia, but it wasn't until I moved to Memphis that I saw the ugliness of racism first hand. And, unlike I had been led to believe, I found out quickly that racism is a vice not particular to people with light skin. The seeds of racism are in all of us, because we all are sinful at our core. Without a new core—a heart transplant, if you will—we will succumb to prejudice. And prejudice, when left to fester, turns into the ugly vice of racism.

To be completely honest, it has always been so obvious to me that belief in racial superiority is wrong that I find it hard to believe that it even has to be spoken against. In my worldview, founded on biblical Christianity, racial supremacy is so antithetical to goodness and truth that the fact that it’s even a question is astounding. But, the reemergence of white supremacy on our national stage has made it apparent that it does, in fact, need to be expressly called out. So to avoid all ambiguity, here are some fundamentals that are true:

1. All people are created in God’s image and thus have inherent value.

2. No ethnicity is more or less valuable than another, and there is nothing good or right about asserting that one ethnicity is somehow better or more deserving than another.

3. God judges us based on the condition of our heart (either dead in sin or alive in Christ), not on our skin color or DNA.

4. Racism is a sin.

Now that we’ve laid those truths as our foundation, let’s tackle the next piece of this blob—the Civil War.

Growing up, as I was first learning about the Civil War, I thought it was clear-cut:  South—slavery—bad; North—anti-slavery—good. As I continued to study, though, I was faced with the reality that this war was anything but clear-cut. I learned of the atrocities committed by Union soldiers and of the character of Confederate men like Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee. I began to see that there was good and bad on both sides and that it would be nigh impossible to give either side unadulterated commendation.  

Once again, let’s lay down some fundamentals. Only this time, I’ll point out some statements that are purely false:

1. Every white person in the 19th-century South was a racist.

2. Every white person in the 19th-century North was not a racist.

3. Every Confederate general and soldier was fighting to defend slavery.

4. Every Union general and soldier was fighting to abolish slavery.

5. The Civil War was fought only about slavery.

6. The Civil War had nothing to do with slavery.

7. The Civil War was fought only about states’ rights/federalism.

8. The Civil War had nothing to do with states’ rights/federalism.

So what does all of this mean? For one, it means that we must recognize that of the Union, the Confederacy, and each person that fought for either side—none of them are all good or all bad. We must remember that, as I wrote about earlier, people are not black-and-white. They are neither demons nor gods. They are humans with accompanying capacity for good and evil. This should give us pause when we try to lump people, regions, or eras into a generalized mass—and when we try to make a case that something should or should not be removed.

Which brings me to the next part of our amorphous blob, the statues.  

And with that, I’ll leave you hanging and say, “Tune in tomorrow” for the rest…

A Lion’s Lesson: The Just Judge

Last time we looked at a lesson I learned during my days as a Bryan College Lion, and since the effects of past and recent events are still playing out, my alma mater has still been largely on my mind. So this week, I’d like to share another set of lessons that has been applicable both to life generally and more specifically to the current situation at Bryan.

The tutorial began when I walked through a period of grief and emotional pain beginning my sophomore year of college. It was messy, to say the least, with plenty of hurt and wrong to go around on all sides. That God-given sense of “ought,” which Dr. Boling named in an apologetics class I later took with him, was my constant companion during those months, both convicting me when I behaved in ways contrary to how I ought and grieving me when others behaved in ways contrary to how they ought.

In the former instances, I tried to be faithful to confess. In the latter, the wounds brought deep pain and often some level of anger (for more on that, see an earlier post). The perceived injustices were great--at least to me, but to the offenders they appeared to be nonexistent, which made it all the worse. I began to question whether or not it was all in my head, whether I was just being selfish or melodramatic or petty. Perhaps the parties involved really had behaved as they ought, and I was just hurting for some other reason.

That’s when I came across 1 Peter 2. Sure, I had read it countless times before, but this time, it jumped off the page and burrowed deeply into my soul.

“For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly” (1 Peter 2:21-23, ESV, emphasis added)

Whether I had been wronged or not, Christ obviously was, being the only sinless man to ever walk the face of the earth. And yet He did not retaliate against the perpetrators; He did not even speak in his own defense. Instead, He entrusted his very self to the One who knows all, sees all, and judges justly.

What did this have to do with my situation? Simply this: even if I couldn’t tell sometimes if I truly had been wronged, I could fully rest in the fact that God knew. If wrongs had been committed, there was an ironclad guarantee that He saw. He is not blind to injustice in whatever form it may take. So my visceral desire to defend myself and my sense of helplessness to have things made right did not have to consume me or even accompany me, because God, the Most Powerful, also happens to be the Just Judge.

What peace and relief came from this realization! No matter how feeble my own understanding was, He knew perfectly and would see that things worked according to His will.

Fast-forward a few years, and the tutorial continued as I sat under the preaching of J. D. Greear one day.[1] The passage was Matthew 7:1-6, the all-familiar, oft-quoted, and oft-misinterpreted passage about judging others. The whole sermon was excellent, as Greear explained that “judging is not about assessing; it’s about sentencing,” and laid out what judging others actually does and does not entail. But there was one facet that particularly stood out to me.

One of the ways, Greear identified, in which we do wrongly judge others is by essentially acting as if we can condemn their souls. Of course, we don’t have this power, but we often pretend to. That’s crazy, I’ve never done that! you might be thinking. You might think you haven’t, but have you ever thought, “She’s too far gone” or “There’s no way he’ll ever repent”? Have you ever stopped reaching out to someone because you thought his case was hopeless? Have you ever given up on pouring into someone’s life because you think positive change in her life is impossible?

That’s what it means to judge someone--to “regard someone as hopeless.” Greear showed that this attitude involves our placing ourselves in the judge’s seat--the seat that only belongs to God Himself. We presume not only to declare a sentence but even to know whether or not someone is deserving of one. And that is what I have to constantly guard against.

Those “he’s just hopeless” thoughts can be so subtle, even unconscious at times, yet they are so devastating. They cripple our prayers, if they even allow us to pray at all. They weaken our faith, and they constitute sin. In short, they are pride, as we think we know more or better than God.

On the flip side, though, there are many things that are considered judging today that actually are not. For instance, disagreeing with someone’s choices is not judging them. Neither is voicing that disagreement, speaking truth, or attempting to win or warn someone off of a dangerous, unhealthy path. As Greear said, “It’s what you do after you tell someone the truth that determines whether or not you are judging them.” We must still speak truth, but we shouldn’t write people off after we do so.

Putting all this together, then, we can better understand the balanced posture we are to maintain. There are times when we’ll be hurt, and we’re not sure if we’ve been wronged or not. There are times when we’ll be hurt, and it will be absolutely clear that we’ve been wronged. There are times we will observe a fellow brother or sister in Christ commit wrong against us or against someone else.

In each of these situations, we can do the following:

Trust that God sees all, and, more than that, He cares. When wrong is done, it is ultimately His Name that is profaned and He that is abused. He will not take that lightly.

Submit to the fact that vengeance is God’s. Go to war against the desire to lash out in self-righteous self-defense. Take action where needed to combat wrongdoing, but avoid waging vendettas against the perpetrator(s).

Speak truth to those who are straying. Do so out of a genuine love for them and concern for their souls, not out of a sense of self-justification.

Persist in loving, speaking truth to, and praying for those who are committing wrong. Do not shrug them off as hopeless or discount the power of God to convict and draw them to repentance and healing.

In all things, remember that God is the one who is the possessor of perfect wisdom, not us. This gives us cause both for great comfort and for humble reverence. And, thank God, He--the only Just Judge--is patient with us and will be faithful to vindicate His Name.

Photo Credit: Andrey Korzun 

Used in accordance with the following license: 

Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported

The photographer does not endorse any content of this blog.

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[1] The quotes and paraphrases in the following paragraphs are attributed to J.D. Greear’s sermon on Matthew 7:1-6 given at the 2015 Southern Baptist Convention’s Pastors’ Conference in Columbus, Ohio.

A Lion’s Lesson: People Are Not Black-and-White

Bryan College has had a special place in my heart since 2010. The beautiful hilltop community was my home-away-from-home for four years, the place where I met some of my dearest, closest friends and where I grew intellectually, spiritually, and emotionally. Rubbing brains with the best of the best, engaging in deep conversations in the cafeteria, wrestling with ideas and practicalities, embracing opportunities to be both logical and creative, and just plain having fun—these characterized my days as a Bryan Lion.

To this day, I am still realizing the depths of the lessons I learned on that hill in Dayton, Tennessee. Many of them were excruciatingly painful to learn; many were thoroughly enjoyable. Some were accompanied by laughter, some by tears. But all have shaped the woman I am today.

One of the lessons that has served me well in years since truly hit home in the spring of 2014, my final semester at Bryan. I don’t have the time or the desire to hash out all the details here, but for the sake of context I will do my best to summarize the circumstances that led to my learning this lesson…

In early 2014, the college’s administration took action that contributed to what has since been referred to as a “purge” of faculty and staff. The way this action was carried out led to many in the student body involving ourselves in organizing respectful means of protesting and voicing our concerns to the administration.

Unfortunately, the action in question involved a particular passage of Scripture—one about which there has been a history of intense and passionate debate. Because of this, the administration was able to frame the entire situation surrounding their action and any opposition to it as one that was very black-and-white—either you were for the administration’s action and therefore for upholding the truth of God’s Word, or you were against the action and therefore an enemy of the truth of God’s Word.

As someone who personally agreed with the administration’s stance on the particular passage of Scripture and who also disagreed with their action, I myself became living, breathing proof that their black-and-white assertion was a false dichotomy. In other words, it was possible to stand on the truth of God’s Word and to oppose the administration’s tactics. But as the college’s president persisted in the black-and-white characterization, I struggled to recognize this reality.

Being an incredibly loyal person and having grown up in a largely conservative, though not legalistic, spiritual community where those in authority were often revered, I became incredibly troubled when my president began to paint the issue with these all-or-nothing brushstrokes. He was not only a man I respected in many ways but also was one of the reasons I often gave for why I chose Bryan in the first place. So to have him tie my disagreement with him to unfaithfulness to the Word of my Savior left me questioning the strength of my own faith.

I am almost ashamed to admit that now, because I see how foolish and wrong it was of me to fall for that kind of spiritual abuse where a leader equates support for himself with support for God, but I share honestly in hopes that others can benefit from the lessons I have learned.  

My struggle only increased when a nationally prominent man, who was highly respected in the communities in which I had grown up, publicly promulgated the same black-and-white dichotomy. I was crushed. How could this man, whom I had never thought anything but good things about, perpetuate such an unjust claim?

It was then, like a flickering candle with the force of a lightning bolt, that it began to dawn on me that I was guilty of the same all-or-nothing approach when it came to other people, this man included. Either they were trustworthy and upright and everything they said or thought was to be embraced, or they were suspect and foolish and everything they said or thought was to be rejected.

This man ironically, in practicing such foolishness himself, was instrumental in my seeing the same fault in my own life and in recognizing that neither the pedestal nor the dog-house are accurate places for people to be placed. That is, just because someone is godly or wise does not mean he or she will never ever be off-base. Likewise, just because someone is ungodly or unwise does not mean he or she will never ever speak truth.

This realization and the accompanying repentance in my life led to such relief and freedom! It was okay to evaluate what people said independently of who I thought they were or what opinion I had of them as individuals. More than that, it was healthy and good. I could legitimately agree with people on one thing and disagree with them on another, and disagreement did not have to necessitate lowering my opinion of them as people.

And then, as if I didn’t appreciate the mind-expanding education I was receiving at Bryan already, I realized how this balanced posture is precisely what I was being trained for. The questions my professors and staff mentors had been asking me and prompting me to ask on my own for years were uniquely fitted for maturing my mind to be able to achieve this balance.

I can’t count the number of times since graduation that I have gone back to the moment the light first dawned, the moment the Lord first convicted me that I was unfairly raising some up and pushing others down instead of holding them all in open hands and evaluating their messages against His own Word.  That moment left its mark, and I have drawn upon its lesson over and over again.

So now, I seek to be like the Bereans who examined what they heard from a man against God’s revealed word in the Scriptures (Acts 17:11). I seek to maintain that balance whereby I can honestly see and acknowledge both the virtues and the vices in others instead of thinking of them as all-good or all-bad. And I’d like to challenge you to do the same.

Let’s fix our eyes on the only One who is truly and thoroughly Good and ask Him for the grace to treat others equitably and to discern what to hold on to as truth and what to discard as falsehood. Let’s be quick to repent when we either idolize or demonize mere men. And in all of this, let’s ask God to help us remember that, while people come in all different pigments, none of us are black-and-white.   

Scars and Stars

When you think of God, do you think of Him as a supreme, almighty Being set apart from us or as a comforting, nurturing Father ever near? Have you ever thought of Him as both?

When we look at what God tells us about Himself in Scripture, we see that both are indeed true, and to succinctly describe both aspects of God’s nature, we say that He is both transcendent and immanent.  That is, He is wholly separate from us and yet incredibly close.

One passage that I think beautifully reveals the complexity of this two-part reality is Psalm 147:3-4 (ESV):

He heals the brokenhearted

and binds up their wounds.

He determines the number of the stars;

he gives to all of them their names.

At first, it seems that verse 3 speaks to God’s immanence, while verse 4 indicates His transcendence. The imagery of comfort and care brings a sense of God’s closeness, while speaking of stars conjures a sense of immensity. It’s as if in these two verses we begin wrapped cozily in a blanket, resting in the relief that comes after draughts of pain, before suddenly being catapulted into outer-space, flung into the vastness of the universe. Our view goes from microscopic to galactic in a matter of breaths.

Taken as a pair, these two verses show the immanence and the transcendence of God, but a closer look reveals that each verse on its own does the same.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3).

Yes, this verse shows us that God is close. He draws near, enters into the mess of our bloody wounds, and with abundant care holds us through the excruciating pain, cleans away the blood, and bandages us. But he doesn’t only do that. He actually heals us. He takes us from open wounds, to scars, to complete restoration. There is His transcendence.

Other humans can help us through our pain, to an extent. They can offer encouragement and help us stand strong, but only God can heal. He is the only One who is big enough, wise enough,  powerful enough to actually heal us—body, spirit, and soul.

“He determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names” (Psalm 147:4).

Yes, this verse reveals God’s transcendence. He is so beyond us that He decides how many stars will be in existence at any given moment. That means not only can He create them and sustain them, but He can count them too. Yet he doesn’t just manage star production and lifespans. He gives each star a name. There is His immanence.

Names are a very personal thing. They relate to identity and reveal relationship. If you want to get to know someone, one of the first steps is learning his or her name. Calling someone by name shows that you value that person; actually naming someone can be even more significant. Thus, while 
knowing someone’s name is a semblance of intimacy, giving someone a name is indicative of a much deeper intimacy. So when God names the stars, He shows that He is intimately involved in their existence. He creates them, but then He continues to hold them together. He determines not only their existence but their identity as well.

These verses, both individually and as a pair, remind us, then, that God is both wholly other and intimately nigh. He is holy and powerful yet compassionate and gracious. Perhaps that is why the Psalmist began with these words:

“Praise the LORD!

For it is good to sing praises to our God;

for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting”

(Psalm 147:1, ESV).

Fitting, indeed, for He is far enough above to see and know all yet close enough beside to hold us and minister to our deeply felt needs.

Praise be to God! There is none other like Him!

To read the Arabic translation of this post, click here.

.لقراءة الترجمة العربية لهذا المنشور إضغط هنا

When Hindsight Is Blind Sight . . . History to the Rescue!

Chances are, most of you are familiar with the phrase “Hindsight is 20/20.” The idea is that when we look back on certain choices or events we are able to see more clearly what course should have been taken or why it was imperative or fortunate that we took the course we did. Closely related is the principle that we can and should learn from our mistakes, and there is certainly an element of truth to these concepts, but there is also a flipside.

The opposite of 20/20 hindsight is what I’ll call the “Good Ol’ Days syndrome,” i.e. looking at the past through rose-colored glasses resulting in (or perhaps resulting from) a chronic dissatisfaction with life as it is in the present, a discontentment with circumstances and with society, a pining for the glory days when all was well--or at least better--with the world.  This kind of past-gazing, I’ve found, is rarely 20/20. In fact, it’s more akin to blindness. How so? Let’s explore a bit...

Have you noticed lately that there have been increasing cries for unity in America as constituents, pundits, and politicians alike bemoan the harsh and often vitriolic tirades that are so prevalent all across the political spectrum? Certainly verbal assaults and physical violence are uncalled for and are rightly rejected, but a careful observance of the sentiments expressed by those who point out just how out of hand the political culture is becoming reveals that there is a good bit of the “Good Ol’ Days syndrome” sneaking in.

Time and time again, I’ve heard pundits and commentators remark, “I haven’t seen anything like this in my lifetime,” or, “Tensions are higher than they’ve ever been, at least in my time.” And maybe they are, but the implication is that our current state is far worse than anything most people have seen. Woe are us.

What so many seem to be missing is the fact that, in many ways, the level of hostility among us is nowhere near what it was during numerous periods of our country’s past. To illustrate this point, let’s play a game, shall we?

Below are four sections with several statements each, all describing the state of affairs of a given time in American history. Read them and decide if you think that given time is today (i.e. 21st century)

Section 1:

a.   Critics of the President highly object to his extended absences from the capital.

b.    A high-profile individual expressly wishes bodily harm to befall the President.

c.    People who previously were cordial, even close friends, go out of their way to avoid each other due to deep ideological differences.

d.    Differences of opinion and conviction result in physical violence.

e.    Divisions exist not just between parties but within parties as well.

f.     The media uses inflammatory language to rile up supporters and opponents of the administration and of each party.

Section 2:

a.    Americans find that politicians in neither party represent their views.

b.    Members of Congress take personal offense at the President’s decisions and let that offense influence their vote on bills.

c.    The Secretary of State, nurturing Presidential aims, calculates what advice to give to the President in such a way as to be able to benefit from association with the administration if things go well yet to avoid blame if things go badly.

Section 3:

a.    Campaign financing is corrupt.

b.    Immigrants not yet eligible for citizenship are allowed to vote anyway.

c.    Party workers incentivize specific ethnic groups to win their votes.

d.    Partisan media outlets use extreme language and condone violence against their ideological opponents.

Section 4:

a.    A former President rebukes the incumbent, accusing him of hypocrisy and immorality for his positions.

b.    A man disgruntled with the current political system detonates a bomb in the middle of a crowded street.

So what do you think? Would you be surprised to learn that the statements in Section 1 all describe the late 1790s, that those in Section 2 describe the 1840s, thosein Section 3, the 1850s, and in Section 4, the 1910s-1920?  Take a look below the signature in this post to see the exact years and exposition on each statement from David McCullough’s biography John Adams for Section 1, Robert W. Merry’s A Country of Vast Designs (Section 2), James M. McPherson’s Battle Cry of Freedom (Section 3), and David Pietrusza’s 1920: The Year of the Six Presidents (Section 4). It’s fascinating stuff, largely because the similarities to today are so striking.

So what are we to learn from this? Well for one, we’re really not worse off today than we’ve ever been. Granted, I am in no way diminishing the seriousness of the current climate. Instead, I’m hoping to put it in perspective, helping us make more informed and relevant observations, which in turn can lead to more effective solutions. When it comes to observations, here are just a few:

1. There is nothing new under the sun.

When we see tensions rise, slurs abound, and vilification of “the other” increase, we don’t need to be surprised or think that these are new human phenomena. Sure, the specifics might change, but the underlying issues are the same, which brings me to my next observation:

2. Man is fallen.

We deal with the same issues as our forebears because we, like they, are human, and there are certain things that are always (with the exception of Jesus’ case) included in being human after the Fall--namely, a sinful nature. Because we inherit the fallen nature of our first ancestors, we are given to pride, selfishness, anger, hatred, callousness, and the list goes on. We are, in short, at complete odds with our Creator who also happens to be the supreme God of the universe.

When we understand this fact about ourselves, we begin to see why there is so much commonality across eras, and we see that, while there is capacity for good in humanity because we are made in the image of God, our default is evil because that image has been marred by selfish rebellion. This leads to the next point:

3. Only an outside Entity can effect the fundamental heart-transformation that is necessary for changed conduct.

There are schools of thought that either posit that we are inherently and overridingly good or that we are somewhat defective but on our way to becoming the best version of ourselves, evolving into a purer state. Yet the reality of the steadiness of vice across generations should be evidence enough to convince anyone otherwise.

The very fact that the same division and viciousness among fellow humans exists today as it did in each previous decade, century, and millennium shows that no amount of education or legislation can root out the evil seed in our hearts. The only solution is for us to get new hearts, for our souls to be made alive, and this can only happen “by grace, through faith” in Jesus Christ’s life, death, and resurrection for us (see Ephesians 2:8-9).

So we want to work towards a more unified nation? A more compassionate and considerate citizenry? Let’s do a heart check, examining our own lives for evidence of belief and one-step-at-a-time change (i.e. sanctification). Once we, through faith, have received a new heart from God, then let’s help others examine their own hearts, lovingly, graciously, walking them through the process of assessing their own lives and their own standing before God and helping them discover the new life that is to be found in Jesus.

As God draws us closer to Himself, we can lose those rose-colored hindsight glasses, put off the “Good Ol’ Days syndrome,” and, with imparted wisdom, start using our understanding of the past to inform our present and shape our future.

1a. 1799: “Convinced he could run the government as well from Quincy as at Philadelphia [then the nation’s capital], [John] Adams stretched his stay at home from late March to September, fully seven months. From the views expressed by his vociferous critics, it was hard to say which annoyed them more, his presence at the capital or his absence. At worst, his absence seemed an arrogant abdication of responsibility. At best, it seemed a kind of eccentric scholarly detachment” (McCullough, 526).
1b. 1799: “Another riled Federalist [of the same party as Adams], Robert G. Harper of South Carolina, Hamilton’s chief spokesman in the House, privately expressed the hope that on Adams’s way home to Quincy, his horses might run away with him and break his neck” (McCullough, 524).
1c. 1797: “Feelings ran deep, dividing the parties, dividing old friends. ‘Men who have been intimate all their lives,’ wrote [Thomas] Jefferson, ‘cross the streets to avoid meeting and turn their heads another way, lest they should be obliged to touch their hats’” (McCullough, 493).
1d. 1798: “Vicious animosity of a kind previously confined to newspaper attacks broke out in the first physical assault to occur in Congress. In the midst of debate, when Federalist Roger Griswold of Connecticut insulted Republican [not to be confused with the modern Republican party] Matthew Lyon of Vermont, Lyon crossed the chamber and spat in Griswold’s face. Soon after, Griswold retaliated with a cane. Lyon grabbed fire tongs from the fireplace, and the two went at each other until, kicking and rolling on the floor, they were pulled apart” (McCullough, 494).
1e-f. 1797: “Regional and party differences had made a tinderbox of American politics. It was not only that Republicans were divided from Federalists, but Federalists were sharply at odds with themselves, and the role of the strident, often vicious press was changing the whole political atmosphere” (McCullough, 484). 

2a. 1844: “Whatever might be said about the eloquence and soundness of these arguments [on whether or not to annex Texas], their underlying significance was clear: The political establishment of both parties had taken a position at variance with the strong sentiment of the broad electorate” (Merry, 77).
2b. 1846: “By July 11 [President Polk] feared many northeastern Democrats [members of his own party] would line up against the [tariff] bill--in part, he surmised, because of lingering animosities over his patronage decisions. ‘There is more selfishness among members of Congress which is made to bear upon great public measures, than the people have any knowledge of,’ he wrote” (Merry, 274).
2c. 1848: “Polk wasn’t fooled by [Secretary of State] Buchanan’s machinations. Though the conversation was ‘unpleasant to me,’ he put in his diary, ‘. . . I thought I ought to rebuke him, and let him understand that I understood the motive that governed him”--namely, Buchanan’s presidential ambition. He wished Polk to send up the treaty [ending the Mexican-American War] against his advice because he would then be well positioned irrespective of the outcome. ‘If it was received well by the country,’ speculated the president, ‘being a member of my administration, he would not be injured by it in his Presidential aspirations, for these govern all his opinions and acts lately; but if, on the other hand, it should not be received well, he could say, ‘I advised against it’” (Merry, 428).  

3a-c. 1856, 1858: “The War and Navy departments had awarded contracts without competitive bidding to firms that made contributions to the Democratic party. Postmasters in New York and Chicago under both [Presidents] Pierce and Buchanan had siphoned public funds into party coffers for years. Democrats had used some of this money in congressional contests in 1858. They had also bribed judges to naturalize immigrants prematurely so they could vote in the crucial states of Pennsylvania and Indiana in 1856, and had “colonized” Irish railroad construction workers in Indiana to help swing that state to Buchanan” (McPherson, 226). 
3d. 1856: “The Richmond Enquirer pronounced ‘the act [of caning Senator Charles Sumner] good in conception, better in execution, and best of all in consequence. The vulgar Abolitionists in the Senate are getting above themselves. . . . They have grown saucy, and dare to be impudent to gentlemen! . . . The truth is, they have been suffered to run too long without collars. They must be lashed into submission’” (McPherson, 151). 

4a. 1917: Teddy Roosevelt on a Woodrow Wilson speech: “I do not regard any speech as a great speech when it is obviously hypocritical and in bad faith; nor do I regard the making of such a speech of service to the world. I regard it as a damage to the cause of morality and decency. So far as concerns what Wilson has done in the past few months, I think on the whole it has been badly done; and, what is more, that it has been badly done because of very evil traits on his part” (in Pietrusza, 62).
4b. 1920: “When authorities indicted [anarchists] Sacco and Vanzetti (‘the best friends I had in America,’ said Buda), he swore revenge on the capitalist system and headed for New York. After obtaining a horse and wagon--and a hundred pounds of dynamite--Buda, at noon on Monday, September 16, parked at Wall and Broad Streets, in front of the House of Morgan. [...] A minute later, 12:01 P.M.--lunchtime, with the streets packed with workers--hell broke loose. Five hundred pounds of shrapnel perforated the sky. [...] The blast would eventually claim thirty-three lives” (Pietrusza, 153).

Sources:
McCullough, David. John Adams. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2001.
McPherson, James M. Battle Cry of Freedom. New York: Ballantine Books, 1989.
Merry, Robert W. A Country of Vast Designs. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2009.
Pietrusza, David. 1920: The Year of the Six Presidents. New York: Basic Books, 2007.

Just Keep Writing. . . (or Faith over Feelings)

Nancy Leigh DeMoss (now Wolgemuth), in her book Choosing Gratitude, explains that it is her personal standard not to publish anything that she is not living herself.[1] In other words, she takes the maxim “practice what you preach” very seriously, and if she isn’t “practicing” something, she doesn’t want to “preach” it. 

While this standard is admirable, it’s one I have not set for myself with this blog, although I have struggled with that decision to some extent. After all, “practice what you preach” is a highly valued idea, going hand-in-hand with “walk the talk” and “actions speak louder than words.” Those who don’t practice what they preach are often labeled “hypocrites,” and hypocrites are high on the villainy totem pole these days.

Being a form of deception, hypocrisy certainly isn’t a good thing, but it seems that we have an increasingly confused notion of what actually constitutes the vice. I love Erik Thoennes’s explanation, as quoted by Brett McCracken writing for The Gospel Coalition: “There's this idea that to live out of conformity with how I feel is hypocrisy; but that's a wrong definition of hypocrisy. To live out of conformity to what I believe is hypocrisy. To live in conformity with what I believe, in spite of what I feel, isn't hypocrisy; it's integrity.”[2] This is true because beliefs are stronger than feelings, and when feelings are fickle, beliefs can still be bold. There are times when feelings will falter, but in those times beliefs don’t have to fail.

I’m reminded of a message I heard one day during a college chapel about “convictional happiness.” The speaker, Nic Gibson, gave an example similar to this one: Let’s say you sing in the choir at church, but one week you’re struggling to abide in the joy of Christ. To stand up in front of the congregation and sing about joy would be to proclaim something you are not currently living. In doing so, you would be “inauthentic” or “hypocritical” by society’s standards, but in reality, you are being truly authentic by exercising convictional happiness because you are refusing to let your feelings dictate your actions or change your convictions.[3]

There is something to be said for declaring what we know to be true even when we don’t feel it to be real. While we certainly do not want intentionally to deceive others by painting a picture of ourselves to be something that we are not, we also do not want to forsake our beliefs simply because our feelings are not falling in line or because we stumble and fall into sin.

Who among us unfailingly lives to the standard we know we are called to in Christ or lives out what we know to be true without fail? No one. Not even one. But does that give us cause to simply throw up our hands and say, “I’m not feelin’ this today . . . oh well, I guess I don’t believe it after all”? I would suggest it does not.

Take a look at what Habakkuk writes in Habakkuk 3:17-18 (ESV):

Though the fig tree should not blossom,

                                                nor fruit be on the vines,

the produce of the olive fail

                                                and the fields yield no food,

the flock be cut off from the fold

                                                 and there be no herd in the stalls,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord;

                                                I will take joy in the God of my salvation.

The scene described here is a thoroughly dismal one. In an agricultural society, crops and animals are what the entire community’s sustenance depends upon, and in the community Habakkuk describes, the fields and vineyards are desolate, and the animals are nonexistent. I think it’s pretty safe to say he would not have been dancing around with laughter and smiles. Yet he decides to rejoice and “take joy” in God.

Similarly, when we are faced with disappointing, distressing, or desperate situations, whether they be a result of God’s judgment, circumstances beyond our control, or any other reason only He knows, we can choose to stand in the truth despite what our feelings tell us. (And by “the truth,” I mean what is revealed to us in Scripture.) We can “take joy” even when we can’t remember the last time we genuinely smiled.

As Mark Ballenger writes in his excellent post titled “Is It Sin to Be Sad,” “To be able to grieve deeply and rejoice relentlessly at the same time is a mark of Christian maturity.”[4]  We don’t have to stop ourselves from rejoicing or silence ourselves from speaking truth until our feelings agree with us. On the contrary, when we are feeling down and discouraged is when we most need to speak truth to ourselves.

Nor do we have to force ourselves to feel happier when we’re sad. We can acknowledge our feelings while at the same time bringing them under the oversight of Truth. We can lean on our faith even when it takes a long time for our feelings to catch up.

That’s why I keep writing even when I don’t feel like it. That’s why instead of reserving this blog solely for topics I have already mastered, I opt instead to use it to expound both on lessons I have learned by heart and lessons I am in the process of learning.

Sometimes I write what my head knows because my heart needs reminding.

I write what I believe in faith even if it’s not what I feel at that given moment. If I did otherwise, this wouldn’t be much of a blog, because let’s face it—I’m not perfect. But I know Someone who is, and, praise Him, He’s making me to be like Himself.

So in the meantime, I’m still writing as I learn to “be sorrowful because of the pain on this planet, while also always rejoicing because of the perfections of our Savior.”[5] I keep writing because I know that while my feelings rise and fall, my Savior remains constant. I’m persevering in what I started because He perseveres in completing His work in me (Philippians 1:16).

I hope you’ll do the same.   

[1] DeMoss, Nancy Leigh. Choosing Gratitude: Your Journey to Joy. (Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2009), 160.

[2] McCracken, Brett, “Has ‘Authenticity’ Trumped Holiness,” The Gospel Coalition, January 26, 2014, accessed June 10, 2017, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/has-authenticity-trumped-holiness-2.

[3] Gibson, Nic. Bryan College Engage Conference, Session 2: “The Identity of the Church,” January 15, 2014.

[4] Ballenger, Mark, “Is It Sin to Be Sad,” Desiring God, June 9, 2017, accessed June 10, 2017, http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/is-it-sin-to-be-sad.

[5] Ibid.