Influence. It’s a funny thing. It’s inescapable–someone will always be perceived to have it or not have it, to either use or misuse it. We complain about it, but we also want to be influenced. Very few people are thorough-going “Lone Rangers” about anything. We see the utility of influence. We want someone to point us on a good course, to help us over a hurdle, and to set a model for us. Influence is how you get some things done or prevent others. Who doesn’t want influence on certain policy issues or certain church initiatives or with our children and spouses? We live in a world where influence is traded, debated, manipulated, and fabricated. Some people look influential but they aren’t. Some people look insignificant but wield influence like a sword. Some name drop and talk about how much “pull” they have. Others need only raise an eyebrow and real actions follow. Some people want influence badly while others run from it.

There used to be a commercial about a brokerage firm named E.F. Hutton. The quip in the commercial was, “When E.F. Hutton speaks, people listen.” Dropping that name at a dinner party silenced the entire soiree as party-goers leaned in to hear whatever E. F. Hutton was poised to say. E.F. Hutton has been sold a couple times, merged with other companies, and now apparently restarted by former executives of the original firm. If I had to guess, many readers of this post have likely never heard the name “E. F. Hutton.”

So goes influence. It, like money, makes itself wings and flies away.

Which is why you shouldn’t really listen to me. I’m nobody. “Thabiti Anyabwile” is not a Swahili name for “E. F. Hutton.” Don’t stop what you were doing. Don’t tune in to a post because I mention it in a twitter feed. Don’t begin to think my opinion about anything matters much at all, certainly not to the extent that you need to hold that view simply because somebody said I once said it. I ain’t nobody.

Now, some of you think you knew that already. That’s good; keep it that way please. But I suspect that some others have mentioned my name in this or that conversation, favorably or unfavorably, and imagined that I had some influence they should either accept or counter. Some have decided they either like or dislike me because I’m associated with this or that person, because I get to preach at conferences, because I’m a member of TGC, because I blog at TGC, because I hold a particular theology, and because they think such “platforms” give me influence.

Here’s the thing about influence: It mostly lies in the subjective impression of the person being or resisting influence. We see someone prominent, standing out, and we assign to them the magical quality of influence. But influence is not often real, objective, measurable. It depends on the person wanting influence convincing others to see them as influential. Don’t get me wrong; some few people really do have power and authority to make some things happen. But the rest of us have some level of “clout” assigned to us by those watching us and trying to make sense of whether we exist for some positive or negative good in the world. I don’t want “clout.” I have no power. Ideas have power. People… not so much.

That’s why you shouldn’t listen to me, as though some authority or influence resided in me. I don’t want the kind of influence that rests upon personality, “platforms,” networks, and least of all “appearance” or “image.” If you find yourself on the opposing end of an argument or an idea, let’s stay focused on the argument or idea. I don’t want to be your enemy and I hope not to treat you like one. If you find yourself moved by an idea, by an argument, by some principled application, then know that you’ve been influenced by an idea. If you got it from me, that’s incidental. Everything I have I first received. Central is the grace of God and the truth of God.

So, don’t listen to me. Chances are you don’t even know me. I’m not likely related to you. I’m probably not your pastor. I don’t have any control over the events in your life. I certainly have no part in the incommunicable attributes of God like omniscience. Everything I’ve ever said, done, or written is only partially true, corrupted by my faults, limitations, and sin, and likely in need of a good dose of correction or balance. In fact, I’d be grateful to anyone who cares enough either about ideas or me to add a gracious word of correction to any ideas I’ve expressed. I don’t take it as an attack, but as an act of courage and duty borne by responsible men and women.

Why this post? It’s not a direct response to anyone or any controversy. I even chose a random date for it to post. No, it’s because I need the reminder of this post. I’m vulnerable to the tempting siren of “influence,” to trying to cultivate a persuasive power that inheres not so much in the truth of ideas but in the power of personality or “appearance.” What a horrible insatiable monster that kind of pride and self-seeking is. How vain to monitor twitter followers, web statistics, and anything else that suggests “influence.” And what ruthless task masters are the expectations of others who think you have influence and want to borrow some or sway your use of it. It’s a trap, I’m telling you!

Far better to recognize Jesus Christ is the only compelling power and influence in the world, in whose hands the hearts of kings are turned, by whose word the universe stands, and before whose throne every knee will bow and confess. Influence? Only if it makes Jesus known and brings men under his light and easy yoke of love. Everything else is a mist that’ll soon evaporate in the radiance of His glorious rule!

³³ And they came to Capernaum. And when he was in the house he asked them, ”What were you discussing on the way?” ³⁴ But they kept silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest. ³⁵ And he sat down and called the twelve. And he said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” (Mark 9:33-35)

Very last. Dead last. Being “first” in Jesus’ kingdom requires being “last of all and servant of all.”

What kind of race is this? Who races to the bottom?

Jesus.

Though He was equal with God, He did not regard equality with God something to be jealously grasped. Instead, he humbled himself and made himself of no reputation. He became a servant. He took our flesh. He became obedient… unto death… even death on a cross. He raced to the bottom of the cup of God’s wrath.

For us.

So the Master says to us:

“⁴² You know that those who are considered rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. ⁴³ But it shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, ⁴⁴ and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all. ⁴⁵ For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Why should we who were purchased by Him and who follow Him now pursue being “last of all” and “servant of all”" Why should we seek greatness by being slaves? Because of Him. “For” or “Because”… ”even the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”

The Son of Man who shares glory with the Ancient of Days (Dan. 7:13-14) sought lowliness for us. He was a servant–a suffering servant–and now we who share His life share His status. We come to serve–if we are His.

The Master promises: “For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matt. 16:25). Save then lose. Lose for Jesus then find.

So, why then am I so eager to be “first” in that Gentile-lording-it-over-others way rather than being “last” in that great-in-the-kingdom-of-heaven way?

The problem is not the aptitude of my hands but the attitude of my heart. I know how but my heart resists.

Seven attitudinal reasons I can see so far:

• The attitude that says, “They’re trying to get me to do something I don’t want to do.” Like volunteer or attend. That attitude is one way I hold onto my life rather than lose it. I live as if my wants are most important.
• The attitude that says, “They’re trying to get me to give something I don’t want to give.” Like time or money. That’s another way I try to save my life—I live as if my possessions are most important.
• The attitude that says, “I want to be known as a servant even though I don’t want to be treated as one.” That’s wanting to be important and prominent rather than being a “very last” nobody.
• The attitude that says, “I only want to serve the way I desire instead of serving where there’s need.” That’s putting my own sense of gratification and worth over the needs of others.
• The attitude that says, “I only serve when I feel like it.” That’s convenience, not service. We’re only doing something when there’s no cost to us.
• The attitude that says, “I only want to do what I think is in my ability or means.” That’s living for comfort. If it’s shopping for things we like, we can spend far beyond our means and do it happily. But if it’s giving or serving the church of God, then we suddenly become conscious of our limits. Do you ever notice that? We might say, “I can’t tithe or give beyond a tithe.” But if we were to take a look at our budgets and spending then we find out that we can’t start giving because we can’t stop spending! (Alcorn) We want our comfort rather than to be the very last servant.
• The attitude that says, “I….” I don’t serve like I ought because I think about “I” too much.

What then is the solution to my selfish heart?

Death.

Daily death.

Daily cross-carrying death.

Daily cross-carrying death to self.

Daily cross-carrying death to self that produces life in Christ.

“When Christ bids a man to come follow Him he bids him come die” (Bonhoeffer). But, “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose” (Jim Elliot).

If I would die daily I could serve delightedly. If I could be servant of all then I could be that kind of “very last” that actually is “first” without being proud.

Oh, Lord, grant me the desire and make me a servant for thy Name’s sake! Give me a heart to be dead last among all the brethren.

Some of you have been following the series of email exchanges Doug Wilson and I have been having regarding his book Black and Tan. In my last post I attempted to define “racial insensitivity” and then to cite instances in Black and Tan where I thought Wilson was guilty of that charge.

In one of my citations, I made reference to Wilson cataloging a list of the sins of Black people while not mentioning in comparable ways the sins of White people. I attempted to parody Wilson’s comments with a list of “White sins.” In context, I simply wanted to illustrate what I found insensitive in Wilson’s comments by reversing them. In my list I made mention of Trayvon Martin being killed for “walking while Black.”

A couple of gracious and thoughtful readers wrote to let me know that they were at least caught off guard by the reference to Martin and some were offended. They felt the reference injected race in an unhelpful way and rushed to judgment in the Martin case. It’s plain to me that these persons were coming to the blog to be edified and with that remark were instead hurt. It’s also plain to me that my comments lost me my argument. Rather than illumine the point at hand, the remark clouded the judgment and hearts of some.

This was not a case where only one person felt injured. At least three others responded similarly. So I’m left to conclude that these persons were not being “too sensitive” and to wonder if others might have been wounded but did not reply.

In failing to make it clear that I was putting forth a parody of Wilson’s writing, I replicated not only Wilson’s error but also the harm. I am truly sorry for that and I ask my readers’ forgiveness. I am completely willing to accept whatever consequences come as a result of my words, including the loss of esteem, respect, or support my words deserve. I fully understand if that line costs me the point I was trying to make in that section or costs me your empathy as a reader. I will have earned those losses.

Rather than retract the statement and pretend as though I had said nothing offensive, at the counsel of the readers, I have left the comment in with an asterisk directing future readers to this apology and a similar apology in the comments thread. Going forward, I will endeavor to write more carefully. I will attempt to consider the reactions, feelings, and perspectives of others even when I’m trying to challenge and provoke thinking. It’s fitting that I should take care to do so since that’s what I’m arguing needs to be done for me and others.

Again, I hope that those who read that post can find the spirit’s strength to forgive my carelessness with words. The Lord be gracious to you this Good Friday,

Thabiti

My reaction to the school shooting in Newtown, CT last Friday is troubling. I’ve read the reactions on twitter and skimmed reflections on blogs. I’ve read anguish and anger, pleading and politicking. Parents have written of the fresh gratitude they’ve felt at being able to hug their own kids and of a trauma that stretches beyond human powers of empathy. Political hacks have spun the massacre to imagined advantage for their pet political issue–a shameful display of the very lack of empathy others have expressed. Some thoughtful others have written to help people through such trauma and pain. I’m grateful for such pieces.

But I’ve been troubled by my own heart. I’m afraid I haven’t felt deeply enough. It’s not that I’ve been impassible, unmoved, unfeeling. It’s not that I’ve had the wrong kinds of feelings and thoughts, like the political hacks. I just don’t think I’ve felt enough. I’m afraid my emotions were too shallow and too fleeting. Already I’m off to my life, my routine, my Christmas celebrations, my world. When I read the laments of others, the often reported horror (and it is unspeakably horrible!), I’m concerned that as a father of a six year old who would have been in such a class that I’m not more horrified.

Something is not right. I know the world is so relentlessly and consistently twisted and touched by evil that men and women can become too think-skinned in the face of tragedy. I know that’s possible, but I don’t want to settle for that in my own heart. I don’t want to be so tough, calloused, jaded, or whatever that I can easily “move on” from the wicked shooting of twenty children–children!–and their teachers–teachers!

I wonder if I’m alone. I suppose I cannot be alone because for all the horror and grief rightly felt things seem to remain the same. School shootings now dot recent American history, the most prominent of which include names like Columbine, Virginia Tech, and now Sandy Hook. And I’m left wondering why true outrage isn’t felt, why deep mourning is missing, and why sustained indignation unexpressed. What’s wrong with my heart? Why so shallow and worldly and easily distracted? Why does “coping” look so suspiciously like avoiding, forgetting, ignoring, and abdicating?

I understand that human beings can’t cry forever. I fully realize that anger needs to give way to resolve. I know that feelings are a gift from God but we can’t feed upon them unceasingly. But I’m still left feeling I should feel more and asking why I haven’t. What about you?

Remember the names Ted Haggard, Eddie Long, and Jack Schaap?  Scandal among evangelical pastors has been so steady that wikipedia has a list of evangelical scandals.

While working on a chapter for an upcoming book, I had the blessing of researching the moral failures of several prominent church pastors.  I say “blessing” because it was enlightening to observe some common dynamics and failures in the scandals.  In most cases, men who should have been disqualified were back in their pulpits or establishing new ministries within months.  In most cases, churches were seriously injured by the transgressions and hurt further by the inadequate efforts at redress.  In all the cases, the offending pastor received more attention and support than the victims of his abuse or deceit.  It was a sobering exercise.

The effects are devastating.  Two researchers at Baylor University have summarized the social and psychological effects of clergy sexual misconduct on congregations .  Studies:

suggest that the results for the offended include self-blame; shame; loss of community and friends if forced to relocate either to escape the community’s judgment or to escape an angry offender who has been discovered or reported; spiritual crisis and loss of faith; family crisis and divorce; psychological distress, including depression and post-traumatic stress disorder; physiological illness; and failed or successful suicide attempts.[1]

All of this carnage begins with a process researchers call “grooming.”

Grooming includes expressions of admiration and concern, affectionate gestures and touching, talking about a shared project, and sharing of personal information (Carnes, 1997; see also Garland, 2006). Grooming may be gradual and subtle, desensitizing the congregant to increasingly inappropriate behavior while rewarding her for tolerance of that behavior. Offenders may use religious language to frame the relationship, such as “You are an answer to my prayer; I asked God for someone who can share my deepest thoughts, prayers, and needs and he sent me you” (Liberty, 2001, p. 85). Grooming is essentially seduction in a relationship in which a religious leader holds spiritual power over the congregant.[2]

Garland and Argueta’s study focused primarily on identifying the conditions that permit clergy sexual misconduct.  From their interviews of adult victims of clergy abuse, they found five factors that contribute to the behavior.  In their own labels and opening paragraph description:

1. Lack of Personal or Community Response to Situations that “Normally” Call for Action

Most (n=23) of the offended said that they had felt uncertain of what was happening in their relationships with their religious leaders. Spouses and friends and other congregational leaders also were uncertain about the meaning of what they observed, and so they did nothing. Their trust of the leader was stronger than their trust of their own perceptions of the situation. In fact, it altered how they interpreted what they were experiencing.

2. Culture of Niceness

American culture expects people to be “nice” to others, most particularly those with whom we have caring relationships. By “nice,” we mean overlooking or ignoring the behavior of others that we know to be socially inappropriate rather than naming the behavior and risking embarrassing, angering, or hurting them. The offended we interviewed were living by this cultural norm, even in the face of offenders’ blatantly inappropriate behavior. In other words, they were not simply normalizing the offenders’ behavior and questioning their own perceptions; they recognized that the behavior was sexual and thus inappropriate and still they did not object.

3. Lack of accountability

Our world has increasingly privatized communication and consequent ability to avoid oversight or accountability to others. Instead of letters in a family mailbox, where anyone in the family can see that a member has received communication and from whom, letters come to private e-mail accounts out of sight of all who do not know the password. Instead of phones being located in public space, such as the kitchen wall, they are now in a purse or on a belt and can be used anywhere. Such communication allows a relationship attachment to form and deepen, removed from observation by others. Many of those interviewed told of long and frequent conversations over the phone or through e-mail with their offenders.

4. Overlapping and Multiple Roles

Of the 46 offended congregants we interviewed, more than half (n = 24) were in a formal counseling relationship with the religious leader. An additional 16 reported that they were regularly meeting alone with their religious leader for “spiritual direction.” They described spiritual direction as a private meeting between the leader and congregant in which the congregant shared personal struggles and concerns and the leader provided guidance about the use of spiritual practices such as prayer and meditation to deal with those struggles and concerns. The common characteristic of these two groups, together representing 87% of the sample, is that the leader was meeting alone on a regular basis to provide professional services.  In some cases,  interactions differed from professional counseling relationships with other helping professionals, in that the direction of invitation was reversed. Instead of the congregant asking for help, the religious leader volunteered to provide the congregant with counseling.

5. Trust in the Sanctuary

The congregation and its leaders are expected to be safe, a “sanctuary,” where vulnerabilities will be protected. Congregants expect to be able to confess personal thoughts and struggles to their religious leaders without fear of those confessions being used to manipulate them. Leaders are supposed to be safe sources of guidance and forgiveness. Interviewees recalled that one of the ways the offender gained closeness that led to sexual activity was by using knowledge gained from their confessions as a way to breach what would have been their ability to protect themselves. An expectation of emotional closeness is assumed after sharing deeply personal issues. The closeness is deepened when the other knows aspects of one’s life few others know—a shared secret. This emotional closeness gave the offender additional power as the keeper of the offended’s secrets.

Congregants trust their leaders to protect their families; these leaders are those that perform weddings and are expected to be present and supportive to congregational families through times of crisis. Instead, these offenders often denigrated the women’s spouses, driving a wedge into what they knew was a vulnerable marriage. In the aftermath of the death of her child, by definition a marital crisis, Paula’s pastor told her that her husband would never be able to meet her needs. Delores remembers the tension between her husband, who had a leadership role in the church, and the pastor as the pastor began to initiate a relationship with her.

Experience, media stories, and research all warn of the damage clergy misconduct causes.  However, most congregations continue without policies and practices to protect themselves from the fall of its leaders.  Of course, no church can be completely protected and we don’t want to breed an atmosphere of undeserved suspicion and mistrust.  But a little forethought and planning could be the ounce of prevention that prevents the need for a pound of cure.  Garland and Argueta’s findings hint at some protective measures that might serve pastor and people.

On the back end, Eric Reed’s 2006 article, “Restoring Fallen Pastors,” provides at least some preliminary questions to get congregations started.  If leadership teams think through these questions, they’d at least develop a skeletal response for responding to the moral failure of leaders.

1. Which offences require absence from ministry?
2. Is exposure to pornography an equally serious offense as an actual sexual affair?
3. How long is the pastor to be out of ministry?
4. What are the requirements for counseling and who will oversee it?
5. Will there be any financial support for the pastor and the family?
6. Will the pastor’s spouse be included in counseling and in meetings with the denomination or restoration officials?
7. After the restoration process, how will the pastor find a new position, if deemed qualified?
8. And what will the new congregation be told about his indiscretion and period of removal from ministry?

Dare anyone deny that Christians are among the most tribal of peoples in the world?  I’m not thinking of the way Christians may legitimately distinguish the church from the world, the saved from the lost, or the way lines must necessarily be drawn between orthodox and heretical views, or even about denominations (as Trueman likes to point out: “Denominations mean that somebody somewhere still believes something”).  Rather, I’m thinking about the way Christians divide and gather, further divide and gather into value-based societies distinct from and uncooperative with one another.  Is it me, or is the problem pandemic?

On one level, the problem exists simply at the label of labeling.  We have and need ways of describing ourselves, our commitments, and our ambitions.  The natural tendency is to create a moniker, a one-word or one-phrase representative of deeper meanings.  I don’t know that this is avoidable or good even if it were avoidable.  We’ve been naming things since Adam, and good names carry meaning, history, and identity.  That’s why any call for doing away with labels won’t work.  Sometimes we hear things like, “Can’t we just call ourselves ‘Christians’?”  But what is “Christian” but a label?  And what must “Christian” mean in order to escape a reductionism that leads to rank individualism?  We need labels–good labels– that communicate who we are.  So, we’ll never escape naming ourselves and the quest for a one-size-fits-all tag seems quixotic.

But there’s something deeper than naming that feeds the tribalism.  Beneath it all run three tributaries that dump into the lake of tribalism.

First, there are the relational inclusivists.  We know them by their Rodney King-inspired mantra: “Can’t we all get along.”  The inclusivists develop itches and rashes anytime disagreement may be spotted.  They prefer one large group of all Christians, a mass unity in which they’re sometimes willing to overlook critical differences while we sing “We Are the World.”  They interpret their bigness (at least their desired bigness) as evidence of the rightness of their cause.  Inclusivists stand aghast at the number of tribes around them, interpreting every division as evidence of failure or unfaithfulness.  They style themselves the party of love and acceptance, but they’re just as tribal.  Listen to how they describe and demonize folks outside their group as unloving, cold, narrow, peevish, and more concerned with theology than either God or people.  On what do they base this?  Very often they base it on group membership more than on the actual attitudes and behaviors of the “other tribe.”  If you’re not in our big group of love then you must belong to some other camp less loving than we are.

Second, there are the exclusivists.  In one of my favorite episodes of The Andy Griffith Show, young Opie and his friends come to the jail complaining about the uselessness of history.  Andy gives them a rousing story about Paul Revere, the minutemen and the country’s founding.  The boys’ eyes blaze with excitement.  Barney stands amazed.  Following the story, Opie and friends settle some quick business like group name, mission, and place of meetings.  Then to the really important issue: Who can be a member?  Someone votes for letting everybody join, to which Opie conclusively responds, “It’s not a club unless you keep somebody out.” Opie the tribal exclusionary.  How often are our clubs and tribes simply exercises in exclusion, attempts at defining ourselves by not allowing others to be with us?  How do we do that?  Who’s really an exclusionary?  More often than not we exclude by raising the theological or ministry practice bar as high as possible.  And not just high.  We make the “test” as specific as possible, even failing applicants who give the correct answer but not with our precise terms.  The premium gets placed on conformity, and usually conformity to secondary and even unimportant issues.  Sometimes our Christian tribalism springs from this sometimes elitist and sometimes low-brow desire to segregate, exclude, and banish “others.”

Third, there are also the  close cousins to exclusionists: isolationists.  These are the folks who form tribes of one, except when they together raise their individual voices to decry all the other tribes.  They’re a loose federation of discontents, a society of non-joiners–not always on principle, mind you.  They distrust belonging and think of every grouping as “unlawful.”  They boast about not belonging to anything while criticizing everything.  Groucho Marx’s famous quip is their personal anthem: “I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member.”  They’re “just Christians” in the “mere(ly) me Christianity” sense.  Those who isolate themselves like this pretend to a higher morality, a more noble approach to relationships, one where they are never caught being cliquish or divisive because they never join.  They’re unspotted by association, solipsistic separatists, convinced of the rightness of their position because it’s their position, rarely taking a position on anything other than being against all groups and their positions.

But there’s a deeper root to tribalism still.  Each of these streams flow into the lake of tribalism but they flow from the mountain of alienation and pride.  Whether we see ourselves or others as inclusivists, exclusionists, or isolationists, we’re really simply witnessing the brokenness of relationships that date back to Gen. 3, the hostility of Gen. 4 in softer tones, and the pride of Genesis 11 cloaked in Christian garb.  The confusion of Babel continues as various groups build their more perfect tower to heaven.

While we still suffer the confused tongues and misunderstanding, the reversal of Babel’s curse has begun in the cloven tongues and nation gathering of Pentecost.  In this already/not yet, we live with vestiges of paradise lost and foretastes of paradise regained.  But this in-betweenness can be frustrating and painful.  The old man dies violently, reluctantly.  He sometimes exerts his greatest rebellion where we’d expect to see the brightest indications of new life, like a resistance fighter spraying graffiti on the shiny monuments of the state’s power. Our battle for sanctification reminds us that the war is won, the city captured, but there are still pockets of resistance in streets and small neighborhoods aligned with the old man.  Our fight for less tribalism and more unity–a unity premised on like precious faith, defined biblical truth–continues apace the Molotov cocktails, rocks, and ambushes of a tribal instinct as old as Genesis 10.

What’s the answer?  I don’t know really.  But we can start with being honest about which stream we are in ourselves.  Let’s stop characterizing others and cast a critical eye at ourselves.  We do have logs to remove, don’t we?  I suspect that a little truth telling to ourselves about our stream and motivation could go some ways in opening us up to seeing some issues and some people differently.

Then, it seems to me, there should be some talking across tribal lines.  The elders of the clans should gather and the people should smoke the peace pipe.  That doesn’t mean leaving your clan; it simply makes your tribe civil.  It seems necessary to say that neither tribe gets it all wrong or all correct.  Surely we should desire as wide a unity as possible, and we should also exclude those that threaten that unity with falsehoods.  There most certainly comes a time when we should not join, even though we must recognize the inescapable requirement to belong to the local church and the global church.  Escaping tribalism probably feels a little chameleon-like depending on the issue.  There’s something for us all to learn from one another.  We should be skeptical of that little voice which resists peace, bristles at talking with “others,” and finds balkanization cozy.  That’s the flesh, not the Spirit.  We should do everything to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.  We should ask ourselves if we’re doing our part to end the tribalism and the lazy labeling that often accompanies it.

But this is precisely where the digital age’s democratization of information can be a real enemy.  We can now publish too quickly, without the requisite literature and peer reviews that inform us, balance us, and open us up to “the other side.”  What we often end up publishing is the silt and debris that gathers along the banks of our particular tribal streams.  We’re well past the point when Christians should ask themselves whether their computers aid or hinder our fallen tribal instincts.  Don’t get me wrong; I’d certainly prefer the democratization of technology and information to the control and restriction of media by a small cadre of elites.  But I most prefer a sanctified distribution of media control and use.

It’ll be easy to justify our next misinformed missive with an easy reference to our indwelling sin or with some valiant reference to “taking a stand.”  If we do, we’ll miss the opportunity to grow in practical holiness by a degree.  The next keystroke could be one more death blow to the old man or it could be one more arrow thrown for tribalism.  Do we actively think of our keyboards and our digital “spaces” as opportunity for sanctification? Too often I don’t.  And I’m afraid it sometimes shows in my own tribalism.

Do not love the world or anything in the world.  If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. (1 John 2:15)

What does the beloved apostle mean when he writes, “Do not love the world or anything in the world”?  John does not mean by “love” merely enjoying the good things in creation.  He does not mean you love the world if you enjoy God’s good gifts properly.

The reason he does not and cannot mean that is because the gospel John preaches actually frees us from the world that we might properly enjoy the world.  Consider Acts 14:15-17.  In the context Paul and Barnabas have been mistaken for Greek gods and the people have begun to worship them.  Paul speaks to correct the crowds.  Notice how he argues that the gospel produces right enjoyment of God’s creation.

¹⁵ “Men, why are you doing this? We too are only men, human like you. We are bringing you good news”—[that's gospel]—”telling you to turn from these worthless things to the living God, who made heaven and earthand sea and everything in them—[that's how the gospel reorients to the Creator away from the creation]—^16 ”In the past, he let all nations go their own way. ¹⁷ Yet he has not left himself without testimony: He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy.”  [Once we worship the one true God who created everything and gives blessings in creation, then we can have our hearts properly filled with joy by His gifts in creation]

But there’s more.  The gospel not only frees us to think about and enjoy the creation properly, the proper enjoyment of creation may contribute to our assurance of salvation.  Look with me at 1 Timothy 6:17-19.

¹⁷ Command those who are richin this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.  [Do you see?  That's the gospel reorienting us to faith in God instead of the present world and freeing us to enjoy everything].  ¹⁸ Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share. [That's the proper use and enjoyment of God's gifts---good deeds and sharing.  Notice how they lead to assurance of our salvation:] ¹⁹ In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold ofthe life that is truly life.

So, when John says, “Do not love the world or anything in the world,” he is not saying that God’s people should not enjoy and use God’s gifts in a proper way.  They should.  Proper enjoyment and use of God’s blessings even contributes to our confidence of eternal life.

What John means by “Do not love the world” is do no place “the world” before God himself.  Do not be attached to the world in a way that weakens and can destroy faith, obedience and loyalty to the Father.  That is John’s concern.

Which leads us to an important principle: We cannot love the world correctly until we love the Father completely.  I write this with some fear and trembling.  I know that this simple phrase can work in the heart in a couple different ways depending on what spiritual condition you’re in right now.

You may be someone who professes to be a Christian, but you really are not.  You’re like the man in 1 John 2:15 who loves the world and does not have the love of the Father in him.  But you’ve told yourself you do, or you’ve told yourself “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with having things” and so on.  If you’re that person, here’s what just happened when you read “You cannot love the world correctly until we love the Father completely”:  You checked an “I love the Father box” without even thinking about it and you immediately thought of the cravings, desires, things, and activities that you can go on doing in the world.  Rather than hear the statement as an exhortation to more complete love of God, you took that saying as a permission to continue your sinful path.  You’re using the truth of the Bible as an excuse for loving the world more than God.  You’re thinking like the world.

Now, if you’re thinking about this like a Christian, you’ve been asking yourself, “How can I have a more complete love for the Father?”  Your thoughts, desires and actions are drawn not to loving the world correctly but to loving the Father completely.  You might draw assurance and hope and longing just from the statement itself if you’re a Christian that justifiably feels assured of your salvation.  Your entire inside just nodded in agreement and rejoiced at the idea of loving God completely.

But you might be in a third category.  You might be a Christian who struggles with doubt and Christian assurance.  You may have heard that phrase and thought to yourself, “I don’t love the Father completely.”  You might think of the weaknesses in your love, the imperfections.  You want to love the Father more completely but you despair and feel discouraged at ever doing so.  Be encouraged because your heart and mind are in the right direction. Pay attention to the direction in which your heart does truly lean—toward God.  If you were not Christ’s, you would not even have the desire to love the Father.  If you were not Christ’s, you would not mourn over weaknesses in your love.  A weak love is not the same as zero love.  Take heart—the desire to love God that you possess comes from God.  Rest your confidence not on the perfection of your love, but on the perfection of Jesus Christ, who loves you and has loved the Father for you.

How do we know whether we truly love God instead of the world?  We know we love God and not the world when we deny our fallen motivations and desires and seek God’s way of living and God’s glory in everything.  Is that you?

I’m enjoying a wonderful little book by William Greenhill (1598-1671) called Stop Loving the World.  Greenhill, an Independent member of the Westminster Assembly, committee member for the Savor Declaration, and co-laborer with Jeremiah Burroughs at Stepney, originally published the sermon as “Being Against the Love of the World” in an appendix to his book, The Sound Hearted Christian (1670).

As part of Reformation Heritage Books‘ Puritan Treasures for Today series, Stop Loving the World provides a wonderful  Puritan-styled meditation on a much-needed topic: worldliness.  Jay Collier has done a wonderful job of organizing the longer sermon into a short book format.  In the opening chapter, Greenhill meditates on 1 John 2:15 and offers a helpful definition of what it means to leave the world.  Here are the ten headings, which still help the soul to contemplate whether “we love the world” and “if the love of the Father is in him.”

1.  To love the world is to highly esteem it, holding it in a high account.

2.  We love the world when our thoughts are fixed on the world.

3.  Men are said to love the world when they desire the world.

4.  Love for the world is found in setting the heart on the things of the world.

5.  We are said to love the world when we employ most of our strength in, on, and about the things of the world.

6.  We are said to love the world when we watch all opportunities and occasions to get the things of the world: to buy cheap and sell high; to get great estates, houses, lands, and things of that nature.

7.  We love the world when we endure great hardships for it.

8.  Men love the world when they favor the world the most.

9.  A man loves the world when he mourns and laments for the things of the world that are taken from him.

10.  We are said to love the world when we are resolved to be rich and will have the world one way or another.

I found Greenhill’s list a helpful meditation and nuancing of love for the world.  It’s a good self-assessment.  Try editing the sentences by turning them into questions.  ”Do I…?”  Pray the Lord exposes the remnants of worldliness and frees us by the power of His Spirit and the promises of His gospel.

HT: Mic

A dear brother and colleague in ministry has been following along with the “celebrity pastor” discussion we’ve been having.  He sent me a gem of a quote from the ‘good Doctor’ that I thought apropos:

“But let me emphasize the point that this is something that is important for the pew as well as for the pulpit. It was not because of anything that Paul had done or said that certain people in Corinth said, ‘I am of Paul’. The trouble was entirely in the people. And such trouble is still with the people. Do not be too hard on the preacher.”

Lloyd-Jones, D. M.  Romans, An Exposition of Chapter I The Gospel of God (Carlisle: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1985), 211.

Now, this is by no means all that needs to be said on the important issue of responsibility for combating anything resembling “celebrity culture” in evangelical circles.  Check here for another quote relevant to the matter.  As my last post attempts to state, there’s responsibility or blame for every sector.  Simply stating some other party is more responsible without facing our respective responsibility strikes me as a bit of blame-shifting, or as our Master so eloquently put it, blowing at specks in the eyes of others while attempting to blink with logs in our own.