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.

But If Not . . .

This year, a new song was released by MercyMe titled “Even If.” If you haven’t heard it yet, I’d encourage you to look it up. Premised upon the truth that God is our only hope no matter whether or not He intervenes in our lives in the ways we would like Him to, the lyrics allude to Daniel 3, which tells of three Jewish exiles who stood (literally) firm in their faith in the face of tremendous pressure to bow down and worship something other than God.

When faced with being thrown in a burning furnace as punishment for their disobedience to the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego delivered a powerful response to Nebuchadnezzar’s question, “And who is the god who will deliver you out of my hands?” (Daniel 3:15b, ESV).

They replied, “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you in this matter. If this be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up” (Daniel 3:16b-18, ESV, emphasis added).

But if not

Those are three words heavy with meaning. At first, the phrase seems contradictory because it comes right after the three men state with conviction that God will deliver them. If they’re so sure God is coming to their rescue, then why even consider the possibility that He won’t?

I think the posture these men take shows us the complexity of faith. They are 100% convinced that God is able to save them from the fire. Yet they are also thoroughly aware of the fact that it is God’s prerogative to do so—or not to do so—and they believe that God is the only one worthy of worship whether He saves them or not.

At first glance, this posture seems like an easy one to hold. Sure, we can say we believe God is all-powerful. And sure, we can agree that God is the only One truly deserving of worship. We can even acknowledge that God in His sovereignty gets to call the shots.

But what happens when, in His wisdom, His sovereignty involves not saving us from danger or taking away our pain? Are we still able to maintain our belief that He is able? If God had not rescued the Jewish men from their fiery grave, would their fellow Jews still have been convinced that God could have saved them?

Let’s make this a little more personal. When we pray and pray for God to heal a loved one, bodily, on this earth, and they die instead, do we still trust that He could have? When our hearts are wounded or thoroughly broken, and the pain remains for years and years, do we still believe that God could have and still can heal our wounds? When we are afflicted with recurring temptation and God refrains from hindering the enemy that tempts us, are we still convinced that He is more powerful than they?

Here our faith is put to the test, because if we believe that He can heal any illness, bind up any wound, deliver from temptation, then the question becomes, “Why doesn’t He?” And that is one of the most difficult questions to live with, because no matter how hard we try, we will not be able to fathom the infinite depths of the wisdom of God—which means the answer is, “We just don’t know.”

Sometimes in His grace, He gives us a glimpse, a “perhaps” moment where we can hazard a guess at what a small part of His purposes might be. But we will never truly know the full counsel of God’s understanding. So we are left to trust that His revelations about Himself are true—that He is just; He is love; He is truth; He is compassionate; He is not altogether like us (i.e. He is in a class all His own); He is all-knowing; and He is all-wise.

And when we are confronted with the magnitude of His power and the unfathomableness of His wisdom, we can’t help but stand in humility and awe. When we reach that point, we are able to embody the complexity of a faith fully convinced that God is able, even when He doesn’t answer our prayers in the way we were hoping. We can be confident that just because He doesn’t, doesn’t mean He can’t, and we can trust that if and when He doesn’t, it’s for a good and perfect reason—one that might involve pain and suffering but one that fits perfectly into His sovereign will.

Living out this complex faith is not the easiest thing in the world. In fact, it’s incredibly difficult. But praise God that He is also able to grant us the faith we need. So with the man in Jesus’ day who cried, “I believe; help my unbelief!” we can be honest with God who already knows our heart and our weakness (Mark 9:24b, ESV). We can tell Him when we are struggling in our faith and beseech Him to give us more.

And in our moments of doubt, we can preach to ourselves the truth of God’s Word and declare with the apostle Paul in Romans 11:33-36 (ESV), “Oh the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!

For who has known the mind of the Lord,

                or who has been his counselor?

                Or who has given a gift to him

                                that he might be repaid?

For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever. Amen.”

Photo credit: Keri-Lynn Paulson. Used with permission.

Family History and Faith

There are certain portions of the Bible that have a reputation for being a drudgery to read. Perhaps most commonly referred to in these terms is Leviticus, but a close second, based on my experience, is the genealogies.

Having just returned from the four-day National Genealogical Society’s annual Family History Conference, I’ve had genealogy on the brain lately, so I thought now would be a good time to share why my love for genealogy in general and some of my favorite attributes of God find their intersection in the genealogies of Scripture.

From an early age, my interest in genealogy has been strong. My mother has always told the story of my writing “Wow!” in Matthew 1, the chapter that contains a genealogy of Jesus. My memories of doing this are very faint, so I decided to dig my childhood Bible out of my closet. Sure enough, at the end of Matthew 1:17 (NIV), which reads, “Thus there were fourteen generations in all from Abraham to David, fourteen from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen from the exile to the Messiah,” I had written with a green pen, “WOW!!”

Perhaps my enthrallment with tracing my own (and others’) family history can find its initial root in my fascination with this one chapter, which, in only sixteen verses, connects Jesus all the way back to Abraham (a span of around 2,000 years) using individual names. Whatever the case, I began researching my own family’s story sometime around 2003, and as discovery after discovery has been made, I’ve been amazed time and time again at the grace of God.

You see, the genealogies in the Bible might seem like dull lists of unpronounceable names, but in reality they contain so many clues to God’s character. So when I trace my family’s history or read the Bible’s genealogies, I am reminded of so many truths. Here are just a few:

1) God knows our names.

What we have in Matthew 1 is a microcosm of humanity. There are people named about whom we know a great deal (e.g. Isaac, Jacob, and Solomon), but there are also people who don’t show up anywhere else in Scripture, like Azor and his grandson Achim. There are those who were kings (e.g. David, Hezekiah), those who were nomads (e.g. Abraham), and those whose occupation is unknown (e.g. Matthan, Abiud). And each one of them is listed by name.

God could have had Matthew write only verse 17, summarizing the fact that there were fourteen generations each from Abraham to David, from David to the exile, and from the exile to Jesus, but instead He listed each individual by name. Of course, it would be presumptuous at best for me to say why God decided to include this information, but what I can say is that these verses remind me that no matter who we are, how well known we are during our lives, or how quickly we are forgotten after our deaths, God knows our names—and not just our names, but every detail about us, inside and out.

2) God is sovereign.

Have you ever thought about all the singular moments that had to line up just right for you even to exist? Take my 3x-great-grandfather Vasa B. Jones, for instance. A husband and father by the 1860s, he enlisted in the Union army during the Civil War, was soon-after captured by the Confederates, and spent the rest of the war being transported from one prison camp to another. But he survived and returned home to father another child--my 2x great-grandfather, Martin Luther Jones. If Vasa had perished, I wouldn’t be here.

Then there’s the fact that my great-grandfather, Bert Smith, almost moved his family to Australia for a job. Key word: almost. Instead, he moved them to Madison, West Virginia, where his daughter (my grandmother) would go on to meet her future husband (my grandfather and the grandson of the above-mentioned M. L. Jones). Again, if the Smiths had moved to Australia, I wouldn’t be here.

Stories like this remind me that God is completely in control. We exist when we exist where we exist because of Him. The biblical genealogies remind us of this as well. David could have been killed by Saul. Isaac could have been a lifelong bachelor. Zerubbabel could have perished in his return journey from exile. But instead, God preserved each of their lives long enough for a new generation to be brought forth, and through them He carried out His plan to send His Son into the world, which brings me to another point--

3) God is faithful.

Closely related to God’s sovereignty is His faithfulness. He is a God of His word. The names of Abraham and David by themselves don’t tell us much, but when we learn the life stories of each of these men, we see how God made promises to each of them having to do with their descendants (and one Descendant in particular). The genealogy of Jesus shows us God’s faithfulness in keeping His promises.

4) God is gracious.

Many people embark upon genealogical endeavors in the hopes of finding some illustrious or royal ancestry, but, more often than not, unearthed instead are individuals of a more scandalous nature--not that royalty are immune from scandal by any means. In my case, the scandal comes into play again during the Civil War with my cousin’s discovery that one of our civilian, Confederate-sympathizing, West Virginia ancestors, Henry Kuhl, was made an example of by the Union military court and hanged for murdering a lad who was supposedly a Union soldier.

Judged an accomplice in the act was Henry’s son Conrad, but since witnesses testified that Conrad played a part in the crime only because he was afraid of his father, he was given a lighter sentence--hard labor for the duration of the war instead of hanging. Like Vasa, Conrad survived. But unlike Vasa, he was not yet married at the time of his imprisonment. The fact that he wasn’t hanged along with his father but rather lived to marry and have my great-great-grandmother is another reminder of God’s sovereignty, but the stain of murder in my line is also a reminder of God’s grace.

This grace is all the more evident in the genealogy of Jesus where we see people with all sorts of baggage--Jacob, Rahab, Solomon, just to name a few. Even the conceptions resulting from sinful acts of Tamar and David were redeemed by God’s grace not only in producing life but in including that life in the lineage of the God-man. In actuality, there is not one blameless person in Jesus’s line except for him. And yet God gave each of them the blessing of being part of the means by which God would save the world.

Our genealogical heritage might not involve something as significant as God becoming flesh, but nonetheless there are evidences of God’s grace in our lives every day. Our sin does not have to define us, and while it can and often does affect our descendants, it does not have to define them either. God’s mercies are new every morning, for every individual, through every generation. He is greater than we and greater than our sin. And thank God, He is gracious.

So the next time you come upon the genealogies while you’re reading through the Bible, take a moment to ponder what they reveal about God. And as you learn more and more about your own family’s story, look for the glimpses of God’s omniscience, sovereignty, faithfulness, and grace. You just might fall in love with family history, or even better, with God Himself.

 

                  Vasa B. Jones                             Bert Smith                                   Henry Kuhl*

*Henry Kuhl Photo Credit: Lila Powers, "To Make an Example of Them," Orlando, West Virginia, June 18, 2011 (http://orlandostonesoup.blogspot.com/2011/06/to-make-example-of-them.html : accessed March 3, 2021).