Articles

This is an open letter addressed to someone who exists in the collective experience of people I’ve had the privilege of knowing and learning from over the years.

Dear Aaron,

I hope you are doing well. I miss our conversations about life, religion, and the Chicago Cubs. Even more, I regret that we haven’t kept in touch after your move to Philadelphia.

I’m writing now because time has changed my thoughts on a subject we used to disagree about, and I owe you an update.

Aaron, you used to say that “Church people aren’t better than anyone else; they just think they are. The best people I know never darken the door of a church.”

Even though I argued with you at the time, you helped me see that people who build hospitals, orphanages, and rescue missions in the name of Christ aren’t the only ones working for the benefit of humanity. I remember the “letters to the editor” you wrote, and the streets you walked, to protest the wrongs of racism, the evils of war, and the pollution of the environment.

Since the last time we talked, I’ve traveled enough internationally to see the hospitality and goodwill of people of non-Christian cultures. In other countries, as in our own, I’ve seen that a person doesn’t have to believe in Christ to be loving, gracious, and even heroic in the face of human need.

Such experiences over the years have reminded me of the disbelief I saw in your eyes when I talked to you about becoming “a new person in Christ.” I remember the questions you asked when I quoted the words of the apostle Paul, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.” You told me you didn’t buy it, that you had grown up in the church and knew firsthand that these were not people for whom all things had become new.

Well, Aaron, enough time has passed that I am able to understand more clearly what you were saying. Along the way I’ve seen enough in myself and in others to give me second thoughts about what I said to you. Somewhere along the line I started asking questions: If believing in Christ changes people’s hearts, why are His followers unable to sustain the “first love” and enthusiasm of their relationship with Christ? Why do so many eventually struggle with personal bitterness, church conflict, troubled marriages, investment scandals, anxiety disorders, and a whole spectrum of addictive behaviors? Why does faith in Christ produce changes that are more like the honeymoon phase of a marriage than a lasting change in life?

At this point, I admit that my spiritual journey has run parallel to what I’ve learned in marriage. What doesn’t change in either is the human baggage we bring into both. The independent inclinations that were a part of me before and after marriage were also a part of me before and after I put my faith in Christ. The self-centeredness that makes it difficult for me to hear the concerns of my wife also makes it hard for me to hear the voice of Christ living in me. It took time for me to discover that in salvation and in marriage, growth and maturity do not come automatically or easily. In both cases, I was not prepared for what turned out to be the greatest challenges of my life. What I didn’t realize beforehand is that the biggest enemy I would ever face would be my own unchanged inclination toward self-centeredness.

I don’t mean to understate all the wonderful sides of marriage or conversion. But I can see now how wrong my expectations were. I had looked to salvation to make me good, as I had looked to marriage to make me happy. I didn’t see that in both cases my own human nature would stack the deck against me if I didn’t do whatever it took to let the Spirit of Christ live His life in me.

Aaron, as I look back on some of our conversations, it’s clear that I was wrong in assuming that my whole life had changed through faith in Christ. It didn’t occur to me that whenever the Bible encourages us to love, or to pray, or to think and speak honestly, it is because we are so inclined to do just the opposite.

Yes, Aaron, my thinking has changed a lot since the last time we talked. Life has been a lot harder than I expected. Too often I have underestimated the diligence needed to let Christ make a difference in me.

I can now see more clearly that upon a couple’s public confession, a minister declares a man and woman married, but not mature. And, upon an individual’s faith in Christ, God declares us righteous in Christ, but not good in ourselves. In both cases there is a huge difference between the legal declaration and resulting quality of life.

I now believe that church people, in their best moments, have a lot in common with members of a twelve-step recovery group. They attend meetings and work the program, not because they are better than others but because they know they need God and one another to overcome the problems that would ruin their lives.

I only wish, Aaron, that I had understood years ago why so many people like me reflect far more of ourselves than of who we are, and could be, in Him.

Thanks for listening. I’d love to know where you are in your own spiritual journey. If you are inclined, drop me a line, either by letter or e-mail. I hope you’ll find that I’m more ready to listen and less likely to defend the moral superiority of anyone other than the One who died for us.

Sincerely,

Mart

Dear Al,

The last time we talked, you asked a question I couldn’t answer. I remember the concern in your eyes and how helpless I felt to give you any assurance when you asked, “Does the Bible offer any comfort when we’re afraid someone we love has died without Christ?”

Your heartbreak is understandable. So is your anger. I can see why you feel that your faith has turned against you. Beliefs that once gave you comfort are now robbing you of sleep.

Other questions you asked have also been hounding me. Why didn’t our Lord help us with such an important issue? Why did the apostle Paul write as if his readers are concerned only about loved ones who “die in the Lord” (1 Thessalonians 4:15-17)? Didn’t he realize the impact his words would have on those who, because of their faith, would agonize even more deeply because they would have no hope of ever again seeing someone they love so much?

Your questions caught me off guard. But the longer I have thought about them, the more convinced I’ve become that even in our concern for unsaved loved ones we do not grieve as those “who have no hope.”

There Is a Time to Comfort

As there is a time to warn, so there is a time to console. That comfort goes beyond our Lord’s assurance that He will someday wipe all tears from our eyes (Revelation 21:4). We can also find consolation knowing that it is none other than Jesus who will judge all of the earth (John 5:26-27). Because of the concern He showed for people during His life on earth, we can be sure He cares more about our lost loved ones than we do.

We see a hint of that compassion when Jesus mourned the unbelief of those who rejected Him (Matthew 23:37). We hear Him teaching His disciples to love their enemies (Luke 6:35). And in the moment of His deepest suffering, we hear Him say of those who called for His death, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do” (Luke 23:34).

Ever since coming to know Christ, those of us who believe in Him have been learning to rely on Him more than on ourselves. We’ve been discovering that we can trust His goodness more than our own fears.

While believing that everything Jesus said about heaven and hell is true, we can cling to the truth that both mercy and justice have their origin in Him. The God whom Christ personified is not cruel. He will not add unnecessary pain to the fate of those who die rejecting Him. The suffering of judgment will be neither more nor less than it needs to be.

What We Don’t Know

We don’t know how our Lord will give “many stripes” (lashes of judgment) to some and “few stripes” to others (Luke 12:47-48), except that the punishment of some will be as severe as the punishment of others will be light. We don’t know the full meaning of the fire and darkness of judgment, except that the Hebrew prophet Isaiah first used the language of everlasting fire and smoke as a way of describing a battlefield defeat that is final and irreversible (Isaiah 34:9-10; 66:24).

What We Do Know

What we do know is that God will be fair, and good, and right in judgment. We know that not all will experience the same degree of pain and regret. All will be judged according to their works, which is one reason my grandfather Dr. M. R. De Haan said repeatedly, “To some, hell will be a little heaven compared to what it will be for others.”

The Scriptures show that those who suffer the severest judgment will be the devil, the Antichrist, the False Prophet, and those who accept the mark of the beast in the last days (Revelation 14:11; 20:10). In a similar way, Jesus reserved His strongest warnings for those religious leaders who used their influence to turn the crowds against Him.

There Is a Time to Grieve

The apostle Paul grieved for lost loved ones without losing his mind or faith. He cared so much for Jewish family members that he would have taken their place in judgment if he could have. He said, “I have great sorrow and continual grief in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my countrymen according to the flesh” (Romans 9:2-3). Yet Paul’s concern for others didn’t rob him of his affection for heaven or his confidence in Christ (Philippians 1:23-24).

There Is a Time to Rest

We cannot afford to let fear of what we don’t know about the future rob us of what we do know about our Savior and Lord. There is no better person to trust with the souls of our lost loved ones. He alone is their judge. He alone understands all of the factors that make faith and character more difficult for some than for others.

Most of our fears for those who have died lie not in what Jesus said, but in what we add by our own imagination. This is where we need to doubt ourselves and trust that even as He judges our lost loved ones the Lord will give us reason to worship and love Him forever.

Al, with you in mind, I bow my knees and pray, “Father, in heaven, at the end of our own fears, and at the end of our own wits, we cast ourselves upon You. We take comfort in the fact that You take no joy in the death of lost people. We cling to the assurance that You, our Father, the Judge of all the earth, will do right.”

Dear Chris,

The last time we talked, you asked whether I thought those who end their own lives could go to heaven. Since we didn’t get a chance to finish that conversation, I hope you don’t mind if I use this letter to say some things that I wish I’d been able to say at the time.

I responded to your question by saying something like, “Yes, those who take their own lives can go to heaven. Our last choice in this life does not determine where we go after death.” But then I hesitated, and asked why you were wondering. When you looked away and said, “Not now,” I heard the emotion in your voice and sensed that you needed some space.

A mutual friend has since told me about your heartache. I’ve learned about the loss of your son, and your uncertainty about where he was in his spiritual journey.

Your inability to talk about your loss is something I haven’t been able to forget. As I’ve replayed the moment, I’ve realized that you weren’t the only one who wasn’t ready to talk. Now I’m glad that I didn’t say something I thought would make you feel better. That would have been a mistake. I’m quite sure you were not looking for false assurance any more than you were looking for someone to tell you how you should be feeling.

Chris, I’m not writing to tell you more than I know. You know as well as I do that God alone understands the state of mind of those who end their own lives. He alone understands their pain and their confusion. He alone knows how to give comfort and courage to those who remain.

So why am I writing? I’m writing because I don’t want you to be surprised if you find yourself wanting to avoid religious people, the church, the Bible, or even God Himself. Emotional pain can put distance between ourselves and others. And there is no way to sort through our feelings quickly, especially in the middle of a heartbreaking loss.

God doesn’t want us to ignore our grief. What is happening to you right now is not something you can afford to deny. Even though David of the Bible was a man after God’s own heart, he spent long days and nights with his losses, his fears, his regrets, and his anger.

I also believe that if it were possible for you to meet face to face with the most compassionate Person who ever lived, you would not hear religious answers that told you how to feel. He wouldn’t condemn you for the waves of anger you feel toward heaven, yourself, or even your son, for leaving you in such agony. My guess is that He would put His arm around your shoulder and cry with you.

I admit that I don’t know what this merciful and honest Person would say to you. He was always so unpredictable. Not in a bad way, but with wisdom and understanding. He had a way of saying what His friends and enemies didn’t expect Him to say. He knew more about pain and evil than anyone else around Him, yet He didn’t teach His followers to wave their fists against heaven and to curse the darkness.

Chris, I believe we can learn a lot by thinking about the cursing He didn’t do, the battles against heaven He didn’t fight, and the despair He overcame. Even though He loved so deeply, He didn’t go mad out of His concern for others.

No, we can’t live with the same spiritual awareness that He had. Neither can we expect each other to trust heaven as implicitly as He did. What we can do, though, is remind one another that even Jesus cried out at the lowest point in His life, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”

When the Son of God left heaven to become the Son of Man, He voluntarily laid aside the boundless understanding that He shared with His Father. And when, in the dark corridors of human experience, He walked into a house of mourning, He cried. As He approached moments of separation from those He loved the most, He sweated and struggled in great agony before saying, “Nevertheless not My will, but Yours be done.” In all these ways He showed that trusting the unseen hand of God is not just an event but a learned process.

It is when our broken hearts drive us to the place where we wonder if we can continue that we have every reason to cling to the One who loves better than we do. He is the One who says, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

Chris, please forgive me if I have in any way added to your pain. I want so much for you to find the strength and comfort that can only be explained by God’s love for you.

Sincerely,

Mart

Over time, we all come across ideas that change the way we think about ourselves. For me, one of those thoughts is that a well-lived life is more like a symphony than a solo.

The point takes nothing away from a solo. I love hearing Willie Nelson sing “September Song,” or Leann Rimes do her version of “Blue.” A single voice performance even makes its own life lesson: Every life is like a center-stage solo in the eyes of our Creator. One person at a time, we are all being judged on our own act (see Romans 14:7-12).

But there is something more important than our own show. Our individual performances are part of something much greater. In the grander scheme, we aren’t just here to sing our own song. All who are in Christ are members of an organization that in some ways is like a symphony orchestra.

The apostle Paul gave us a view of this bigger picture when he wrote, “For in fact the body is not one member but many. If the foot should say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I am not of the body,’ is it therefore not of the body? And if the ear should say, ‘Because I am not an eye, I am not of the body,’ is it therefore not of the body? If the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where would be the smelling? But now God has set the members, each one of them, in the body just as He pleased” (1 Corinthians 12:14-18).

The human body is like an orchestra. Individual members, important as they are, work for a purpose greater than themselves.

Shared Rhythm and Mood

Together the members of a symphony create carefully composed and orchestrated moods. Some are quiet and reflective. Others build with great energy and resolve with a flourish. At the direction of their conductor, the members of a well-rehearsed orchestra move as one.

In the wisdom of God, the members of the body of Christ are also designed to resonate and move with one another. When one hurts, those who care share the pain. When one does well, the love of friends and family gives many reasons to be happy (1 Corinthians 12:25-27). With such resonance and rhythm in view, the apostle Paul urged members of God’s family, “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15).

When the people of Christ care for one another, they move like the rising and falling emotions of a symphony. This is by our great Composer’s design. As explained by the lyrically beautiful yet profound words of Solomon: “To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; . . . a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; . . . a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-4, 7-8).

Tonal Blend and Variation

To produce contrasting moods and grand sweeps of symphonic harmony a well-trained orchestra moves together through complex notes, chords, scores, rests. So, too, the music of God is heard not only in the cooperation of many people, but also in the blending of many spiritual notes, facts, and principles:

• The Ten Commandments of the Mosaic covenant combined to define the boundaries of moral behavior (Exodus 20:1-17).
• The nine character traits of the new covenant blend to show what a Spirit-filled follower of Christ looks like (Galatians 5:22-23).
• The seven attitudes taught by Christ merge to describe the making of a peacemaker (Matthew 5:1-10).
• The seven progressive expressions of due diligence show that faith works through and in harmony with the essentials of spiritual growth (2 Peter 1:5-7).
• The seven marks of spirituality help us recognize the wisdom that comes from God with balance and depth (James 3:17).
• The fifteen characteristics of real love help us to be sure that our affections and behavior are as loving as we want them to be (1 Corinthians 13).
• The seven pieces of spiritual armor show us why it’s dangerous to think that being in Christ automatically protects us from spiritual attack and failure (Ephesians 6:10-18).

Every word and principle of God stands on its own, but not alone. Without truth, faith is presumption. Without patience, hope is impulsive. Without love, eloquence is noise (1 Corinthians 13:1).

The Conductor

Without a director, the members of an orchestra could all be playing their own song. Even in the same symphony they could be on different pages.

So, too, the people of Christ need a great Director who can turn their individual contributions into shared music. With the music of many voices in mind, the apostle Paul wrote to the Colossians, “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord. And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him” (Colossians 3:16-17).

Without the leadership of Christ, we would be left looking for a leader worthy of our complete confidence. Apart from His direction, the church would be little more than a group of individuals stumbling through a piece of music no one really understands.

Yet, in the noise of our individual lives, Christ stands among us, ready to be our great Conductor. The composition is His. The music is His. And the orchestra, conceived and bought at great price, is also His. Together we are rehearsing for a presentation far greater than any of us have yet imagined.

Something has gone wrong with forgiveness. I can’t tell you how often I have wandered around lately, in a mental fog, trying to figure out what forgiveness should look like in personal and national settings.

The problem shows up when people say, “I was wrong. I’m sorry. Now let’s get on with business. It’s your job to forgive me. It’s time for us both to put this behind us.”

With a few well-chosen words, the tables are turned. Like a wrestler doing an escape and reverse, an offender regains the upper hand. His victims are now expected to forgive and forget. He might even remind them that according to Jesus, if we don’t forgive others, our Father in heaven won’t forgive us (Matthew 6:14-15).

Is there a way to be forgiving in spirit while still helping those who have hurt us to be accountable for their actions? The answers of the Bible might surprise you.

Forgiving Doesn’t Mean Forgetting

Although some wrongs are forgotten when we stop nursing them, other hurts are always near the edge of our awareness.

If we have been badly wounded, our inability to forget can cause us to feel guilty. We’ve been told that when God forgives, He forgets, and that if we really forgive, we’ll forget too.

But God doesn’t forget anything. From cover to cover, the Bible shows that God remembers the sins of His people. Both Old and New Testaments are full of stories that preserve forever the memory of His people’s forgiven wrongs.

When God says He will not remember our sins, He means He won’t remember them against us. He doesn’t write us off or consider us worthless because of wrongs we’ve done. Instead, through forgiveness, He releases us from a debt we could never pay and assures us of His continuing love for us.

Forgiveness May Not Involve Complete Restoration

Those who have confessed their wrongs are likely to ask, “Now that I’ve admitted my wrong, now that God has forgiven me, and now that the Bible requires you to forgive me, why can’t we act like this never happened?”

One answer is that forgiveness doesn’t require a return to business as usual. There may be results that are irreversible. God forgave Adam and Eve, and then removed them from the Garden. God forgave the anger of Moses, but wouldn’t let him into the Promised Land. God forgave David for adultery and murder, but would not let David have the child born of his adultery.

Forgiveness may allow for consequences. A forgiver may still wisely and lovingly ask for reasonable restitution, legal due process, a plan to avoid recurrences, and time to heal. Wise follow-through is often necessary if we are going to forgive and love well.

Forgiveness Doesn’t Start with Us

The Bible says that the story of forgiveness begins with God. He once and for all forgives the past, present, and future sins of all who accept the cross of His Son as payment for our moral debts. He purges our record in the courts of heaven and secures forever the legal acquittal of all who trust His Son. He offers unlimited “family” forgiveness to those who continue to confess “known” sins against the Father in heaven (1 John 1:9). This second river of forgiveness washes away family issues that have brought disagreement into our relationship with the Father.

With such immeasurable forgiveness in view, Jesus tells the story of a man who was forgiven of a multimillion-dollar debt, but who turned around and refused to forgive the debt of one who owed him a relatively small amount of money (Matthew 18:21-35). Our Teacher used the story to show how immoral it is for us to take mountains of mercy from Him and then to turn around and withhold a few shovels of that mercy from those who ask us.

The message is clear. As we have received immeasurable forgiveness from God, we are to allow what we have received to overflow into the lives of those who wrong us. Jesus said to His disciples, “Take heed to yourselves. If your brother sins against you, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him. And if he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times in a day returns to you, saying, ‘I repent,’ you shall forgive him” (Luke 17:3-4).

Forgiveness Isn’t Only for Us

Because an angry, bitter spirit can be self-destructive, many believe that the ability to forgive is more for us than for the person who has hurt us. But if forgiving others is God’s merciful way of helping us deal with our own bitterness, why then does He add to our pain the difficult task of confronting those who have hurt us, and to forgive them only if they say, “I repent” (Luke 17:1-4).

Jesus doesn’t teach us to love our enemies and to forgive those who harm us merely to get the bitterness out of our own stomachs. Freeing ourselves of resentment is only part of what Jesus has in mind. Just as God forgives us for our sake, He asks us to join with Him in being part of the redemptive process in those who have asked for mercy. He asks us to do this not in our own strength, but by His grace working in us.

Sometimes It’s Necessary to Lovingly Withhold Forgiveness

God lovingly withholds forgiveness from those who have not had a change of heart. Even though it saddens Him to do so, He will not forgive the guilt of those who knowingly refuse to admit their sin.

God’s example is our wisdom. He teaches us to be saddened by the self-centeredness of others, to lovingly confront those who have wronged us, and to let His love teach us when it is in the best interests of others to extend forgiveness or to withhold it (Matthew 18:15-17; Luke 23:34).

What is the value of a person?

In many cultures men are honored more than women. Rich people are respected more than poor people. The current market value of a person is determined like the price of a car. Model, year, and condition all play a part.

The disturbing truth is that human worth, like beauty, is often in the eye of the beholder. Yet something interesting shows up in the eyes of a mother or father.

A Question of the Heart

After the birth of our son Ben in 1973 and our daughter Jen in 1979, I was overwhelmed by how much I loved both of them. At some point I remember thinking: I’m not sure I understood the value of a person before becoming a parent. And then another thought: What if the devil approached me with a bid for their souls?

Here’s one way the proposition plays out. The devil offers to rig the world’s largest lottery in exchange for Ben’s life. Then he suggests the lifetime earnings of the world’s wealthiest family in exchange for Jen. When he sees that he hasn’t gotten my attention with either of these propositions, he says, “Name your price. What about all the oil in the Mideast? All the real estate in the world? All the industry on the planet? I’ll throw in personal happiness, good health, and a long life for you and your wife.”

You see where this is going. Your answer would be the same as mine. No amount of money or material possessions could tempt us to sell, for any price, one of our own children.

But then there is another question. What if the devil offered me all the money, real estate, and industry of the world for the soul of someone else’s child?

Since I’ve just admitted that I couldn’t put a price tag of any amount on one of my own children, I’m in a frame of mind to remember that everyone is somebody’s baby. And by a parent’s standard, there isn’t another child in the world worth less than my own. Yet here my own character gives out on me. While my love for Ben and Jen tells me something about the priceless value of a person, my own conscience tells me how inconsistently I’ve given attention and consideration even to my own children, let alone the sons and daughters of others.

The Need for Better Eyes

There is only one Person who never lost sight of the value of every person. Day after day Jesus treated women and men, old and young, poor and rich, sick and healthy as if they all were important. Even when offered the kingdoms of the world for a moment of blind self-interest, He didn’t cave in (Matthew 4:1-11). He consistently saw something in others worth dying for.

Sometimes Jesus used little things to show the value He saw in others. Once, after asking His followers to risk their lives for Him, He asked, “Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows” (Matthew 10:29-31). His point was clear: If the Father in heaven takes note of a sparrow falling to the ground, then imagine how much more He loves and cares for His own children.

On another occasion, Jesus used big things to show the value He sees in each person. To people inclined even to forget the value of their own life Jesus asked, “What profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?” (Matthew 16:26).

The Eloquence of Action

Jesus’ words were powerful, but His actions were even more telling. While some of the most religious people of His day looked down on or ignored women, ethnic minorities, poor people, and prisoners, Christ noticed and befriended them.

Christ’s value of each person is a revolutionary principle of life. If we all shared His value of each person, our families and churches would be healthier and safer places to be. Business and industry would be transformed by owners and managers who saw workers through Christ’s eyes. Nothing would give more honor and value to either our friends or our enemies than to be treated as someone “for whom Christ died” (Romans 14:15; 1 Corinthians 8:11).

The apostle John was one of Jesus’ closest friends during our Lord’s three years of public life, and John was deeply moved by the way Christ valued him. This love spilled over into the apostle’s concern for others. In the fourth chapter of his first New Testament letter he wrote, “In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation [sacrifice] for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:10-11).

Pluralistic cultures like our own put a high value on tolerance. In matters of personal morality and religious faith, most things are tolerable except intolerance itself.

The healthy side of “politically correct” tolerance is that it attempts to assure mutual respect among people of different religious and cultural perspectives. The dangerous side is that children of such cultures are raised to consider all points of view as equally valid.

Where does this leave those of us who do not believe everything is relative or that all religious or philosophical views are equally valid? Should we be angry about a society that tolerates sexual immorality and philosophical relativism, while at the same time becomes increasingly intolerant of the Christian mission? Should we be angry that a nation which used to assume Judeo-Christian values is increasingly resistant to the Christian gospel?

If we are not careful, we might end up on the wrong side of this issue.

It is easy for us to feel insulted and intimidated by a government and society that attempts to marginalize people of “fundamentalist” conviction. It is easy to feel that we must fight all attempts to define us out of a government “of the people, by the people, and for the people.” It is easy to assume that because “sin is a reproach to any nation,” our mission is to make sure that government is a friend or at least a protector of our mission to evangelize. It is easy to assume that “tolerance of sin” is all wrong.

Policies of tolerance, however, are not all wrong. They form the mutual ground on which we can stand with non-Christians to press the point that while all religious points of view might be tolerated in a free society, all are not equally valid.

While the God of the Bible teaches us not to tolerate pride, greed, or sexual immorality in ourselves or in the lives of those who take the name of Christ, He teaches His people to tolerate sin in the lives of those who do not yet know Christ as Savior (1 Corinthians 5:7-13). To tolerate sin in the lives of non-Christian neighbors does not mean we condone their sin. It means we seek to patiently love them to Christ, as God has loved us to Himself.

As Christians we must not only pray for our enemies and give them reason to come to Christ, but we must also defend their right to disagree with us and reach conclusions inconsistent with our own. While we do not agree with such views or consider them equally valid, we must fight for their right to hold them.

What we must not do is argue our case and vote our morality in public forums for the purpose of “reclaiming our rights” or “to protect our children from the evils of unbelievers.” Those who don’t yet know Christ need to feel our compassion more than our desire for control. They need to see that we are not motivated by fear for ourselves, but by love for them.

Our path will not be easy. Our mission to tell our world about “one mediator between God and man” will be seen by multi-cultural societies as one more form of religious fundamentalism that is especially dangerous.

Anti-conversion policy will undoubtedly become a mark of the coming global village. The world of the future will offer religious freedom, while at the same time censuring any group that seeks converts.

World governments are under growing pressure to adopt policy designed to protect religious groups from threatening one another. The Republic of Turkey, for instance, offers religious freedom while at the same time taking a tough stance against any religious group that attempts to make converts from outside of its own members. While such laws seem designed to frustrate Christian missions, they were actually drafted to eliminate conflict between competing Muslim sects. The issue is not only the Christian message, but any religious message that threatens to disrupt societal cohesion.

All of this seems threatening. But this is no time to throw up our hands or throw in the towel. We have merely lived long enough to come full circle to first-century conditions. The church was born in a time marked by sexual immorality, and by the tolerance of all kinds of gods. The church was born in a day that tolerated almost anything except a faith that lovingly pointed others to the Lord of lords.

There is a fine line between the healthy and unhealthy use of power. At any time, even the best of leaders can begin making decisions that increasingly put their own interests before the needs of others.

The misuse of authority, however, is not always subtle. History tells the stories of countless leaders who boldly acted as if their position placed them above real accountability.

Biblical Examples of Misused Power

In Bible times, the sons of Samuel used their appointments as judges of Israel to take bribes, pervert justice, and accumulate personal wealth. Later, God’s choice for the first king of Israel, Saul, abused his power in an effort to kill the man chosen to be his successor. When David became king, he misused the authority of the throne of Israel to commit adultery with the wife of one of his officers. Then David conspired to have Bathsheba’s husband killed.

Centuries later, a little-known church leader named Diotrephes misused his position by denouncing others to elevate himself. He was so protective of his own position that he would not even welcome the apostle John into his congregation (3 John 1:9-10). We don’t know how Diotrephes publicly explained his lack of hospitality. But privately he might have assumed that all he had done for the church entitled him to unchallenged prominence in the group.

The Patterns of Abuse

Whether it is in ancient times or today, abuse of authority always involves a harmful and destructive pattern of leadership that diverts organizational power for personal use at the expense of others.

A culture of fear

Such abuse of authority thrives in a culture where people fear one another. Leaders are afraid of losing power. Subordinates know the danger of confronting those in authority. Loyalty is emphasized to distract from what is really happening. Mutual intimidation lies just under the surface of what seems safe to talk about or question.

A culture of confusion

In church or para-church groups, leaders sometimes use spiritual language that implies they have a private line to God. The result is that the group learns to hear the teaching or prayerful decisions of leadership as if they were listening to God. Such confusion leads to trouble.

A culture of control and exclusion

When spiritual overseers are not held accountable to fair process and well-defined checks and balances, they can impose their will in ways that go beyond their rightful sphere of control. Such leaders may remove a noncompliant person from the group, not for the sake of the organization but as a means to protect their own leadership. By threatening exclusion for noncompliance, leaders can require submission in matters that are more personal than public, more cultural than biblical, and more arbitrary than fairly reasoned. Ironically, abusive leaders often suggest that their own accountability to God places them above criticism and question, without granting the same freedom to others.

In the noise and commotion of such abuse, phrases like “touch not the Lord’s anointed” or “obey those that have the rule over you” are used, not to promote a healthy fear of the Lord but rather an unhealthy fear of men.

A Better Example

Jesus’ example of leadership is a corrective to such abuse of authority. In His kingdom, leaders think and act like servants. They hear the questions and cries of those who are hurting. They give others the consideration they want for themselves.

In Jesus’ kingdom, elders and deacons do not correct someone else without first working on their own faults (Luke 6:39, 41-42). They remember the Lord’s words: “A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone who is perfectly trained will be like his teacher” (Luke 6:40).

One Leader’s Inspired Counsel

Listen to what one of Jesus’ understudies tells us. Watch for the value the apostle Peter puts on heartfelt service. Note that he wants both elders and church members to serve God not by coercion but because they desire to. Peter writes to fellow elders: “Shepherd the flock of God which is among you, serving as overseers, not by compulsion but willingly, not for dishonest gain but eagerly; nor as being lords over those entrusted to you, but being examples to the flock” (1 Peter 5:2-3, emphasis added).

Spiritual shepherds are not to “lord it over” the flock of God. Just as overseers, elders, and deacons are not to be pressed into service, neither are they to intimidate, shame, or compel others to serve, to give, or to follow. Even when confronting false teachers, representatives of Christ are not to be authoritarian in style, but “gentle to all, able to teach, patient, in humility correcting those who are in opposition” (2 Timothy 2:24-25).

Sooner or later, therefore, we need to realize that we don’t honor even the most trusted spiritual leaders by believing everything they say. We give them their rightful place when we weigh their words, ask important questions, and dig into the text of their message for ourselves.

The New Testament record of Acts honors the citizens of Berea precisely because they did not passively accept what they were taught by Paul and Silas. Instead, our record of the New Testament church says of the Bereans, “These were more fair-minded than those in Thessalonica, in that they received the word with all readiness, and searched the Scriptures daily to find out whether these things were so” (Acts 17:11).

The implication is clear. God does not give His leaders power and authority to control people, but to speak a truth that sets people free.

Even though racially mixed marriages are becoming more common, some still resent it when a member of their own ethnic community marries an outsider. Others are convinced that such marriages are morally or spiritually wrong. Until concluding that mixed marriages do have spiritual implications, I wasn’t sure I wanted to think through the subject in the presence of those who might be hurt or offended by my attempts to find a biblical perspective.

Do the Scriptures give us reason to believe that Asian, African, and European bloodlines should be kept pure? What about lesser ethnic distinctions? Some families believe Dutch stock should not be mixed with Swedish or German gene pools (as in my own parents’ case when they married, with some resentment from Holland-born relatives).

To test our thinking, let’s give a hearing to those who believe ethnic differences are a part of the divine order. Such a person might say, “Racial purity is a righteous idea. Whether we like it or not, our Creator made the races different. The same God who made all living creatures to reproduce after their own kind is the One who made Asians, Africans, Europeans, and Latinos. How could it be right for us to blend distinctions He conceived? Furthermore,” such a person might argue, “according to the book of Genesis all bloodlines are not equal. Through Noah, God predestined the descendants of Ham, who migrated to Africa, to be a servant race. We may not like all of this. We may think we are sophisticated enough to override God’s purposes. But according to the Bible, our Creator is the source of our differences, and it’s dangerous to think we know better than Him.”

Some might see such an argument for ethnic purity as an example of conservative, Bible-believing conviction. Let me suggest, however, why I think using the Scriptures to condemn racially mixed marriages is an example of theological and biblical confusion. Let’s see if the Scriptures can give us help in evaluating the validity of Afro-European marriages.

• We were alike before we were different. The Scriptures repeatedly show that all of us have roots from the same parents (Acts 17:26). Before there were differences of skin tone, facial features, and language, we were alike. First, we were the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve. After a terrible flood wiped out everyone except one family, the gene pool was narrowed back down to Noah’s family. For this reason there’s no merit to the idea that God expects people to protect racial purity by reproducing after their own kind. All families of the earth share equally, not only in the gene pool of humanity but in the image and likeness of God. We may be inclined to belittle one another by failing to identify with the thoughts and emotions of people who look or sound different than we do. But the Bible clearly says that we all have the same human blood running through our veins.
• God did not predestine Africans to be a servant race. The idea that Africans were predestined to be a servant class comes from a misreading of a biblical story. It relates to a curse pronounced by Noah after learning that his son Ham had told his brothers he’d seen their father lying naked in a drunken stupor (Genesis 9:20-27). From Noah’s reaction to Ham, we conclude he felt that Ham had shown him disrespect. A closer look shows that Noah did not curse all of Ham’s descendants, many of whom migrated south into Africa. The curse settled specifically on Canaan, the fourth son of Ham, whose descendants eventually moved into the area now occupied by the nation of Israel. Noah’s curse fell on the Canaanites, who were judged for their idolatrous, sexual excesses.
• Moses married an Ethiopian woman. When Aaron and Miriam, Moses’ brother and sister, spoke against Moses “because of his Ethiopian wife,” God showed His displeasure with their criticism, but did not indicate He had a problem with Moses’ mixed marriage. God showed disapproval of Miriam’s condemnation of Moses by striking Miriam’s skin with leprosy for seven days (Numbers 12:1-15). I doubt it’s a coincidence that God turned Miriam’s skin “leper white” in judgment.
• Hearts are more important to God than skin color. While the New Testament urges followers of Christ not to enter into a binding relationship with someone who does not believe in Christ (2 Corinthians 6:14), it never says anything about avoiding people with a different shade of skin. Never does the New Testament give us reason to believe that God wants us to stay within our own ethnic profile. But a concerned black or white parent may ask, “What about the social burden carried by partners in a racially mixed relationship? Isn’t marriage difficult enough without facing enormous cultural differences too?” These are important questions. Ethnic and temperamental differences that are appealing in courtship sometimes become the very differences that are most difficult to tolerate as the marriage matures. But however difficult our differences, we must remember that God is more concerned about the attitudes of our hearts than about skin color.

The real issue isn’t what we think about racially mixed marriages. It’s how deeply we care about all who’ve been created by Christ, and for whom He died.