The Day I Discovered an African American Theologian

"Plain Theology for Plain People" by Charles Octavius Boothe

By Walter R. Strickland II

March 7, 2018  

History is recounted by the wealthy and powerful. Throughout America’s history of racism, slavery and segregation prohibited blacks from being protagonists in the Christian narrative. For example, there is often mention of Jonathan Edwards and John Frame in the American Christian story, but rarely an acknowledgment of John Chavis or John Jasper. In general, the American Christian story told in most evangelical college and seminary classrooms include African Americans as marginal characters and only in relation to the dominant culture.

This results in false perceptions of God’s work—namely, that God primarily works through the wealthy and powerful. People assume that the white protagonists have everything to teach and little to learn from those who have been excluded. Learning about historical figures like African-American pastor Charles Octavius Boothe (1845–1924) not only shows God at work outside the dominant culture, but it also exalts Christ as the redeemer of every ethné.

Who Is Charles Octavius Boothe?

Boothe was born on June 13, 1845, in Mobile County, Alabama, as the legal property of Nathaniel Howard. At the age of 3, Boothe learned the alphabet from lettering on a tin plate. At 14, he was sold to attorney James S. Terrel, and he began working as an office boy at a law firm in Clark County, Mississippi.

Mid-19th-century legal practice was rooted in biblical logic, which required young Boothe to explore Scripture on a regular basis. Over time, his exposure to Scripture drew him to salvation. In 1860 he testified that he “reached an experience of grace which so strengthened me as to fix me on the side of God’s people.”

At the conclusion of the Civil War, Boothe’s passion was racial uplift in a society that denied blacks’ humanity before God and the Constitution. At the age of 22, Boothe began teaching for the Freedmen’s Bureau and lecturing regularly at Booker T. Washington’s famed Tuskegee Institute. In the early 1870s, Boothe was a preliminary member of the Colored Baptist Missionary Convention that founded Selma University. He later served as the university’s second president (1901–02). Boothe desired to promote literacy so former slaves could read the Bible for themselves and escape the oppressive interpretative practices that had made the Christian faith a tool of black subservience.

Boothe’s devotion for education notwithstanding, he was, most importantly, a churchman. He established and ministered in two churches: First Colored Baptist Church of Meridian, Mississippi, and Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama. (In recent decades, Dexter Avenue Baptist Church received international attention because of its role in the civil-rights struggle and the leadership of its 20th pastor, Martin Luther King Jr., after whom the church was renamed—King Memorial Baptist Church.)

While in the pastorate, Boothe maintained an itinerant teaching ministry, conducting literacy and theological training for emancipated slaves and their children. He wrote Plain Theology for Plain People as an aid for his theological seminars. Writing with the average sharecropper in mind, Boothe set out to spare others the frustration of traversing the lofty theological rhetoric of other texts. His book provides a definite system of organization while allowing simplicity of language and structure to prevail. It wasn’t until my doctoral studies that I discovered Plain Theology for Plain People.[1]

Boothe’s Significance for Me

My theological education offered me a love for Scripture and a theological framework, but it unintentionally taught me that people of color have little to contribute to theological discussions. I had well-intended white professors who assigned white authors and invited white guest lecturers. In order to become more like my Caucasian professors, I began to squelch everything in me that didn’t correspond to them in order to do “real theology.” I began stripping away my blackness in order to fit the evangelical theological mold. At that time, I only entertained theological inquiry that emerged from culturally white space; I developed a bias against African-American theologians; and I belittled the rich heritage of the black church. I was miserable.

But when I encountered Boothe’s writing, it helped me resist the assumption that whiteness equals faithfulness, and it granted me freedom to be instructed by believers outside of my racial and cultural background without feeling like I needed to lose parts of myself in the process.

Plain Theology for Plain People is significant for my story, and it should influence the evangelical approach to theology.

Boothe for Evangelicalism

Boothe demonstrates that theology can emerge from various contexts. In evangelical circles, however, certain contexts have been given almost exclusive priority. Formal theology has been disproportionately conducted by white men, and their perspective has been standardized. Thus “well-read” evangelicals can gain that label despite never interacting with theologically faithful traditions outside the dominant evangelical culture.

By normalizing a particular context, issues that arise outside of that context are often dismissed as illegitimate. In fact, theological development from non-white contexts are often only deemed “proper” when they engage issues pertinent to white culture and conform to “authorized” conclusions. This explains why issues that disproportionately affect non-white communities—like systemic injustice, racial oppression, economic inequality, and human rights—have received scattered engagement among evangelical theologians and ethicists.

The reality of white cultural dominance in evangelical spaces is consistent with what we know to be true of fallen humanity—we’re self-interested creatures. All people (white and non-white alike) are interested in the issues most pressing to us and aren’t likely to deeply contemplate the circumstances of another. So cultivating diverse church communities is important, since it necessarily expands our concerns beyond our experience.

Reimagining the evangelical tradition to include voices that have been obscured isn’t just good for marginalized Christians—it’s good for all Christians. Theology from every context offers valuable contributions. The mature theologian takes his or her seat at the table of theological discourse and both enriches and is enriched by the exchange. Different perspectives taken together embody a more robust vision of faithfulness and affection for Christ than they could ever manage alone.

PS - "To be clear, this was not the first time that I discovered any African-American theologian, but it was the first time I discovered Boothe."

Source: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/day-i-discovered-african-american-theologian/

How a book about evangelicals, Trump and militant masculinity became a surprise bestseller

"Jesus and John Wayne" by Kristin Kobes Du Mez

 By Sarah Pulliam Bailey

July 16, 2021

When historian Kristin Du Mez’s latest book, “Jesus and John Wayne,” came out in the summer of 2020, it received little attention from mainstream gatekeepers and reviewers.

But the book, which explores evangelical fondness for former president Donald Trump and strong masculine figures, has since sold more than 100,000 copies through word of mouth, podcasts and book clubs. When it came out in paperback last month, the book shot up to No. 4 among nonfiction paperbacks on the New York Times bestseller list.

As journalists and academics tried to explain how evangelicals could bring themselves to vote for Trump, Du Mez argued that evangelical support was not a shocking aberration from their views but a culmination of evangelicals’ long-standing embrace of militant masculinity, presenting the man as protector and warrior.

“In 2016, many observers were stunned at evangelicals’ apparent betrayal of their own values,” Du Mez wrote. “In reality, evangelicals did not cast their vote despite their beliefs, but because of them.”

The book also described a pattern of abuse and its coverup by several mainstream evangelical leaders, many of whom are still in leadership. Du Mez contended that evangelical leaders’ emphasis on militant masculinity created a culture where abuse was able to flourish and often kept secret, an argument that has both caught fire and created controversy.

Du Mez, who teaches at Calvin University in Grand Rapids, Mich., wrote that mainstream evangelical leaders such as John Piper, James Dobson and John Eldredge, preached a “mutually reinforcing vision of Christian masculinity — of patriarchy and submission, sex and power.”

“The militant Christian masculinity they practiced and preached did indelibly shape both family and nation,” Du Mez wrote.

Piper, Dobson and Eldredge did not return requests for comment.

Bible teacher Beth Moore’s split with Southern Baptists has some women wondering whether to follow her

Russell Moore, who was the head of the Southern Baptist Convention’s policy arm until earlier this year, said in an email that everywhere he goes someone asks him about the book.

Moore, now a public theologian for Christianity Today magazine, said that many evangelicals are trying to understand recent developments like Trump’s rise and revelations of sexual abuse in evangelical spaces. Moore said that Du Mez has shown that “much of what has passed for evangelicalism over the past decades was more John Wayne than Jesus” and that some of the characters in her book who have been portrayed by some as fringe turned out not to be fringe at all.

“ ‘Jesus and John Wayne’ is not the whole picture, but it’s on target in enough places that we should take seriously the mirror put to our faces to reform ourselves by the gospel we believe,” Moore wrote in an email. “I don’t agree with this book on everything, by any means, but there are key aspects that are necessary for us to see, and that can help us make sense of some things.”

The book showed how masculine pop-culture figures like John Wayne could influence the evangelical imagination and shape the way people act and think, said Karen Swallow Prior, who teaches English at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary.

“Among my own group of friends and peers, this is the book that they have been talking about more than any other in recent years,” she said. “I can’t think of the last one that people talked about this much.”

In his review for the journal Church History: Studies in Christianity and Culture earlier this year, Yale University historian Jon Butler called the book one of the most important on modern evangelicalism in the past four decades. A review for the Christian website Mere Orthodoxy said the book should be required reading for evangelicals. Du Mez’s book also inspired a four-part episode for the popular Holy Post podcast and was named book of the year last year by Englewood Review of Books.

The book also has its critics, including First Things magazine, the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, and other reviewers for Mere Orthodoxy.

“Having announced her thesis about militant Christian-nationalist, male-patriarchal supremacy, she mines American history for classic deplorables,” Daniel Harrell wrote for Christianity Today. “On the other hand are plenty of white evangelical men canceled out for political acts never committed but only assumed and whose patriotism gets distorted as nationalism simply because they’re white, Christian, and male. As a political force they barely register compared to Amazon, Facebook, and Hollywood.”

One of the more frequent criticisms she receives is from the subtitle of her book: “How white evangelicals corrupted a faith and fractured a nation.” Du Mez said that she wanted to challenge White evangelicals to examine their core beliefs about Jesus’s teachings to “turn the other cheek,” love your neighbor and love your enemy.

“I wanted to make clear that I wasn’t going to woo evangelicals or cater to evangelicals,” she said. The Bible lists virtues like love, peace, kindness and gentleness that Du Mez argues would contradict the model of militant Christianity that leaders have held up.

Raised in a Dutch immigrant community in Sioux Center, Iowa, Du Mez’s mother was a Dutch immigrant and her father was a longtime Reformed theologian at Dordt University, where in 2016 Trump famously told a crowd he could shoot someone in the middle of New York’s Fifth Avenue and not lose supporters.

Du Mez said she began working on the topic around 2005 when she started teaching at Calvin, a Christian university rooted in the Reformed tradition of Protestantism. Du Mez was teaching a class on U.S. history and lecturing on President Theodore Roosevelt to show how American ideas about masculinity have changed over time through economics, foreign policy and race.

Two male students came up to her after class one day and suggested she read the book “Wild at Heart,” by Colorado-based author John Eldredge, which has sold more than 4 million copies. She bought a copy and found “a particularly militant conception of masculine Christianity that Roosevelt had been promoting.”

In the early years of America’s war with Iraq, Du Mez considered how Eldredge’s vision of masculinity promoted militaristic ideas about America as an empire. Du Mez said she also reviewed data that showed White evangelicals were more likely to condone the war in Iraq and the military’s use of torture.

“I was trying to tease out: Is this mainstream or is this fringe?” she said in an interview. “As a Christian scholar, I thought, is this what I should be doing? If this is fringe, should I hold this up as though it’s mainstream?”

Newly leaked letter details allegations that Southern Baptist leaders mishandled sex abuse claims

Du Mez set the topic aside for a few years but picked it up again in 2016 in the days after the “Access Hollywood” tapes came out — in which Trump is heard making vulgar comments about women — and many evangelical leaders came to Trump’s defense. That’s when she decided what she had been working on wasn’t fringe.

Du Mez is a longtime member of a Christian Reformed Church, part of a denomination under the umbrella group called the National Association of Evangelicals. She was influenced by cultural evangelicalism through popular Christian music and the “purity culture” movement that encouraged sexual abstinence before marriage. However, she wasn’t exposed to popular evangelical leaders like John Piper, Wayne Grudem or Jerry Falwell Sr. until adulthood.

Her book, published by a nonreligious publisher called Liveright, an imprint of W.W. Norton & Co., found its way into the evangelical world through powerful word-of-mouth networks. Du Mez’s editor Daniel Gerstle said “Jesus and John Wayne” was the publisher’s “surprise hit” of 2020, selling over 300 hardcover copies every week in its first months of publication. The first jump came in late December when the book began selling more than 900 copies a week. Popular Bible teacher Beth Moore, Gerstle noted, has tweeted about the book, describing it as the one she hopes evangelicals read in 2021.

While the book is almost entirely focused on White evangelicals, Du Mez said she has received feedback from a number of Black Christian leaders about it as well. John Onwuchekwa, a Black pastor in Atlanta who left the Southern Baptist Convention last summer, said he felt “vindicated” when he read the book because it seemed to affirm his experiences and connected dots for him.

“The book was refreshing because it wasn’t someone who [seemed] angry or vindictive,” Onwuchekwa said. “There was a courage, a boldness, a matter-of-factness.”

Other books about evangelicals, politics, gender and race that published in the past year include “The Making of Biblical Womanhood,” by Beth Allison Barr, “White Too Long,” by Robert P. Jones, “White Evangelical Racism,” by Anthea Butler, “American Blindspot,” by Gerardo Marti, “God’s Law and Order,” by Aaron Griffith and “Taking America Back for God,” by Andrew Whitehead and Samuel Perry.

Du Mez said that many “troubled” evangelicals who have read her book are going through a “religious reckoning” where they’re grappling with what they have been taught both culturally and theologically. However, she said she hasn’t seen much change by many evangelical institutions.

Evangelical leaders and institutions continue to promote their versions of masculinity. This weekend in Dallas, thousands of evangelical men are expected to gather for a conference called Promise Keepers that will include speakers who once sat on Trump’s evangelical advisory council. Attendees are promised “biblical and spiritual tools that will empower you to be the man Christ intended you to be.”

Source: https://www.washingtonpost.com/religion/2021/07/16/jesus-and-john-wayne-evangelicals-surprise-bestseller/

5 Things that Frustrate Gen Z Christians

SEPTEMBER 28, 2021

by Jacob Murrie

What should older Christians know about Generation Z in order to best disciple them and reach them with the gospel? To be sure, this is a big topic, and I’m just one member of this generation (born between 1997–2012)—which is not a monolith. But it might be helpful to share a few aspects of contemporary evangelical culture that generally bother my generation.

The goal is not to shame older Christians or suggest we young folks are enlightened. The goal is to offer some fodder for discussion that might lead the generations to better care for, think with, and serve alongside each other in a changing world.

To that end, here are five things that tend to frustrate young evangelicals.

1. When Partisan Politics Reshape Faith

In the past few years, we have grown increasingly weary of the meshing of politics and the evangelical faith we often see among older believers. This is not because we don’t value many of the same causes; it’s that often our parents and grandparents will question our Christian orthodoxy if we don’t align fully with their political affiliations. When we shift slightly to the right or the left, our faith is often assumed to be endangered.

It sometimes feels as if older generations want us to “pick a king,” 1 Samuel 8:6–8 style. But many in my generation do not wish to be identified as conservative or liberal, as much as they want to be identified as Christlike. Because of this, many of us joined the 35 percent of people under 30 in voting independent in the 2020 general election. This approach is sometimes considered “innocent” or “naive,” but for many Gen Z Christians it’s the most reasonable and biblical choice.

2. When Apologetics Outweighs Relationships

Let me be clear: Christian apologetics is important. It’s vital we know why we believe what we believe, and why those beliefs are reasonable. But many in Gen Z have seen apologetics weaponized against nonbelievers. I left my private Christian school ready to duke it out with the atheists of the world, assuming they would be hostile and seeking arguments with me. But instead I found young adults who at worst thought Christianity was weird, but more often were lonely and looking for meaningful relationships.

In many of my friendships with nonbelievers, apologetics became a valuable tool after a relational connection formed. I had thoughtful answers to tough questions, like “If God is good, why does he allow evil?” But instead of these questions being hurled at me by Professor Jeffery Radisson (God’s Not Dead), they were asked in vulnerability by hurting or inquisitive peers. Should we still be prepared to go toe to toe with Richard Dawkins if he wants to debate Christianity? Absolutely. What we know shouldn’t change, but perhaps the tone and timing of how we talk about it should.

3. When Christians Don’t Live What They Believe

We felt this acutely during the 2020 general election. We were faced with two presidential candidates who, whether in character or policy, reflected decidedly immoral and un-Christian values. For many of us, that was a dealbreaker. Yet many Christians looked the other way or found ways to defend their favored candidate. My generation is hyper-sensitive to hypocrisy, and we saw it all around us. We are also sensitive to theological hypocrisy and selectively applied doctrine.

Biblical sexual ethics are cited to oppose same-sex marriage, but ignored on other matters like divorce or cohabitation before marriage. The imago Dei is correctly invoked to advocate against the cultural system of abortion, but not to fight racism. We insist that sin can take structural forms and infect entire societies, but we’re selective about which systemic sin issues we want to call out. Many in Gen Z recognize that living faithfully requires applying Scripture consistently, even if it conflicts with your political alignment.

4. When Christians Are Known More for Judgment than Love

Judgment and love are both part of God’s character. Grace and repentance are both part of the gospel. Jesus responds to sinners in love, while also commanding us to “go and sin no more” (John 8:11). But today, many Christians are more defined by judgment than love. Of course, the culture around us has warped definitions of both. There are biblical commands that appear judgmental to our culture, but are truly loving. Challenging a brother or sister when they’re in sin may appear judgmental but ultimately results in life for them—which is loving.

Our secular culture’s distorted, small vision of love is actually an opportunity for us to more robustly live out biblical grace and love, even as we don’t compromise on truth and holiness. Accusations that Christianity is “too judgmental” should be expected to some degree—the Bible’s moral demands will always come across that way to some—but my generation’s hope is that a reputation of radical, Christlike love would also define our faith and attract unbelievers—as it did in the early centuries of Christianity in the Roman Empire.

5. When Christians Aren’t Serious Thinkers

At a time when careful, critical thinking is generally on the decline and intellectually lazy behavior is on the rise, Christians sadly have a reputation for being among the worst offenders. Evangelical Christians are particularly adept at avoiding expert advice they don’t like, all the while participating, knowingly or unknowingly, in misinformation campaigns.

You probably have a Christian aunt who regularly shares incredulous articles or conspiracy theories on social media, showing a reckless willingness to believe dubious information without bothering to check facts. This is just one byproduct of a larger trend we see that frustrates us: a distrust of academia and intellectual life generally.

This is frustrating not because academia is the ultimate truth, but because God is (Psalm 19:7). As believers in the God of truth, Christians should be the most intellectually vibrant. We have the resources to do that. While academicians are not infallible, they do have expertise, and that should matter to Christians.

By downplaying rigorous scholarship, credentials, and expertise, Christians have retreated from the forefront of culture-shaping disciplines, are playing catch up, or in some cases are actively resisting these culture-shaping arenas. With Scripture as our solid foundation, Christians ought to be the most intellectually curious thinkers and culture-makers in the world. We should value learning and education—not for our glory, but for God’s.

Source: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/things-frustrate-gen-z/

Lessons Learned From A Cigar

Greetings from the hump of 2021!

I think I speak for many when I say 2020 was cruel.  The pandemic compounded with lockdowns, fear of death, George Floyd, no toilet paper, racial tensions, #45, so many people dying, freefall economy, little positive sight of a future…fill in the blank.  All life was completely disrupted for the entire world.  For me it was my breaking point and I can only imagine what it was like for everyone else if I was feeling like this.  Thankfully as things on the family front were solid, work life also terrific, it was still chaotic and stressful.  Well, even though it's now 2021 and quickly moving to '22 I feel like 2020's cousin just moved in.  But one new way I discovered to get through the days was through cigars.  Years ago a few close friends introduced me to cigars but I could only get through half a cigar about every 2 years.  But in 2020, it became a nightly ritual and this new delight taught me new opportunities to begin to cope and learn some new things.  So here are a few lessons learned from my discovery:

Start With a Cut.  First things first. To start a cigar, you first must cut the top part so you can pull from it.  Cigar cutters come in all forms and sizes and prices (the cheap ones will do just fine by the way).  Right away, this prompts these life pro-tips learned from cigars first and foremost, that some things in life need to be cut away regularly as a lot of life's priorities will pull from us.  As a Christian and gardener, I appreciate this idea so much because this is called pruning (John 15.2).  Pruning is often initially painful while for some it comes as a relief until you see the magnificent effects and results.  Perhaps this is what 2020 and 21 is teaching us.  At other times pruning is simply fun - as in the case of the minimalist or the KonMari movement.  After pruning the results take months.  In every season, I f there’s something (or someone) that is holding you back from depth, progress, or joy then it's time to get out the cutters and the lighter.

Stay Ignited.  Which leads to the next pro-tip.  As a rookie I started off with one of those Bic lighters which got the job done but it took a while to light the cigar.  In fact, I would justify that the slower the flame the better.  But after talking with some friends and an actual cigar expert I was easily convinced to transition to one of those butane torches and thankfully one came to me free from Cigars International (thank you CI).  The cool thing about these torches is they're refillable and the extra butane is as cheap as buying replacement lighters or torches.  Depending on the cigar, some have to be relit a few times and if I need to take a bathroom or refill break, I'll need to relight my cigar.  Come to find out in life some things need a torch - like a flaming torch.  This is exceptionally true for me as a Christian, and this idea is way cooler than merely vying for a promotion at work.  In life you've got to stay ignited, especially if you want to level up in the realm of personal development and maturity (Proverbs 1:5, 3.5-7; 1 Peter 2.2; 1 Corinthians 13.11).  As someone who is a wholesale believer in Christ, anything good or lasting in life can only be empowered by the power of the Holy Spirit and His round-the-clock provisions of that power (John 16.13-14).  The story of Acts gives a helpful account about the ODs (original disciples) meeting and wondering about what to do now that the Messiah had been crucified, risen, and ascended back to His Kingdom.  Right then the Holy Spirit appeared with incredible anointing power and His presence was validated with little flames above each of the disciples' heads (Acts 2.3-4).  The details of this story are incredible.  In fact, outsiders thought they were drunk (Acts 2.13, lol).  I believe in the same way God, Jesus Christ, and Holy Spirit engaged disciples back then is no different than now, and outsiders will just not understand while others will want it.  So, what this means is I'm only effective when I'm in close proximity to the Holy Spirit and He will keep me ignited for every good work.  This relationship requires the commitment to sit still, listen, await anointing, and then obey immediately.  And not only that but engaging in quality personal education and mentorship with good friends who support me (and who I can also support) is one of the most wonderful ways to stay ignited.  And lest I be branded as a mystic, don't take my word for it.  Colossians 3:17 says “…whatever you do, in word or deed…” (see also 1 Corinthians 10.31).  I’m not only referring to so-called Church work, but every good work.  One lit cigar can light another as well (Matthew 5.16; 1 Corinthians 10.24; 2 Corinthians 1.4).  Need we say more?  So stay ignited.

Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.  Slow down…So I just learned the slower and smoother I puff the better the cigar smokes, and the less tired my mouth is too (lol).  It's the same in life.  Slow down…the thing I've loved about living in other countries is how stress-free people are when doing business of all kinds.  Speed is not a virtue.  Sure, the standard manipulations are present like in America but a lot of cultures outside America don't force time.  In fact, in most (if not all) cultures people take time...and lots of tea (and smokes) to build rapport as a priority before engaging in any type of business.  Genuine and sober character is valued above all of the thin hubris and happiness that is common in our culture.  For me, relearning this pro-tip has made all the difference and resulted in less stress and fatigue and better results (Proverbs 16.33; John 14.27).  It's awesome.  Indeed we work with all your might and as unto God, but just chill for a bit and let the Lord handle the outcomes…in His time.

Shrug off the ashes.  When I first started smoking cigars I didn’t know how to deal with the burning end of the cigar.  How soon or how late should you bump the ash into the tray?  It gets tricky because if you have a moist or sweet cigar the ashy end may stay for a long while without falling on you, but eventually and unpredictably it will fall on you unless you tap it into an ash tray.  But when the ashes crumble onto your clothes, it’s not a good idea to try and wipe them off.  Let me also affirm cigar etiquette here: the ashes or cigar but belong in an ash tray and are not to be just flicked around for someone else to deal with.  Offenses work the same way in life.  This has been particularly challenging for my self- awareness especially the more comfortable we get with others.  We too easily reduce our sensitivity to others and flick offenses and leave buts laying around oblivious to maintain sensitivity to our neighbors.  I've discovered one effective antidote is to this disease is to regularly  express genuine gratitude (1 Thessalonians5.18; Colossians3.15; Job 6.14).  In fact, for me flicking the ashes has now become a fun skill and practice.  Like in life, offenses fall on us like ashes whether from relatives, our partner, friends, work colleagues, or life.  Truth be told these offenses are not like sticks and stones.  We can then ruminate on these offenses and major in minors especially if we have baggage - and we do.  We can also be oblivious to and lack the self-awareness needed to recognize our own possible shortcomings and rough edges (James 1.9; 1 Timothy 4.12).  These perceived offenses are like ashes in the grand narrative, just simply not a big deal, and many (if not all) of life's personal attacks can be dealt with by simply taking a step back (or standing up), getting some understanding, some help, and ultimately shrugging them off (Psalm 1.1-2, 83.3; Proverbs 19.21, 20.18, 21.30).  A lot of things are first world or champagne problems and if it's absolutely difficult to get over things, get some professional help; pray, seek Scripture, talk with the Holy Spirit, an older trusted friend and if necessary, seek a therapist (Job 18.7; Proverbs 19.20,21).  Take time to process each day and take on lessons that can be learned for the future.  It's not healthy emotionally or physically to fester and try to concoct revenge or self-justification so shrug off the ashes.

Stay preserved.  You cannot leave a cigar sitting around.  This was by far the most insightful lesson I learned because a dried up (and rotten) cigar is simply disgusting.  There are no two ways around it, unless I’m really desperate which still isn’t worth it.  Like food products, cigars are perishable so they must be kept in a sealed, humidity-controlled environment.  It doesn’t cost much for the equipment necessary to keep a cigar preserved, and in fact I cannot afford not to keep my stash preserved.  So much can be said about this and I don’t want to overlook the obvious, and given our current climate we will go there.  As a Christian I am especially reminded of this daily (Psalm 37.1,35; 73.3,17).  As trust for authority continues to erode we remember that God is still on the throne, and still King.  I see so much cynicism, unruliness, violence, arrogance, ignorance, injustice, laziness, and real rebellion more than before.  While these behaviors are nothing new the feeling is that they are more pervasive than before and it has become difficult to live in this type of environment (2 Timothy 3.13).  I love the reminders and encouragement from Scripture and Christ that “…in Me you may have peace.  In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world” (John 16.33).  The Messiah, Emmanuel has proved Himself so therefore I love the Messiah, I trust the Messiah and I listen to Him and obey Him.  The reality is Jeshua, Jehovah, and the Holy Spirit are in control.  They ordain and preserve all events for their glory (Psalm 33.10-11).  They give us other believers as blessings to help preserve and edify each other, and the important thing to remember is that staying preserved cannot and should not be done on an island if we can help it (Proverbs 17.17; Psalm 66.9; John 17.11; Colossians 3.16; 1 Thessalonians 5.11).  I have a feeling the new status quo is here to stay so it’s a good idea to stay close to the one who preserves.  We cannot afford not to do so.

Stay warm.  Cigars are for every season, even winter and I'm not sophisticated enough to smoke indoors yet especially in summer and winter.  But when winter rolls around it's wise to grab a coat, more specifically a smoking jacket.  2020 presented a vast array of seasons for all of us, and for me it was a time of persevering, lamenting, introspection and pruning (Psalm 51.17; John 16.20).  Life comes in all seasons and sometimes it's tempting to give in to callousness and coldness so it's important to recognize that these seasons challenge our areas of immaturity (Ecclesiastes 3.4; see all of James 1).  Life comes with all sorts of winter, and we should be ready and not surprised.  A good start is the warmth of God’s counsel and the warm company of other Godly people (Proverbs 18.24; Hebrews 10.25).

Stand (or sit) with your back to the wind.  This is a little like #4 and #6.  Ideal conditions for a good cigar are a spring day with little to no wind, but life comes in all seasons.  I personally enjoy smoking outside so I make sure my back is to the wind which is always present to any degree.  Just recently I experienced smoking in a sandstorm (and now I can cross that off my life list).  This principle still worked flawlessly.  It is said that "there are times when you can do the right thing in the wrong wind."  I like to think of the relationship between an airplane and the wind in which the former benefits greatly from the latter.  Or the weights and machines at a gym.  In life this is not to say to ignore or dismiss your trials, critics, opposers, or some legitimate limitations but standing with your face to the wind sometimes yields poor results.  From the wind I've learned we will all definitely always have setbacks, critics, and haters, but I don't need to constantly pay attention to them or they will paralyze me and ultimately hold me back – especially my inner critic.  Conversely flattery can be as dangerous because it affirms what you may already think of yourself, so "don't be afraid of enemies who can attack you but friends who flatter you" (Carnegie).  On the other hand China's Lao Tzu said, "Care about what other people think and you will always be their prisoner."  I think the point is to avoid focusing on critics and the past (or past mistakes) or run the risk of staying stuck in the past.  Conversely I've also learned to appreciate critics and trials - opposing winds - because they will provide special insight into ways to improve personal and professional development.  Like #4, when we harness criticism and opposition and take time to bounce these personal and perceived criticisms or attacks off the counsel of the Holy Spirit, close and trusted friends and advisers it serves greatly to our advantage.  Sometimes, as Proverbs says, these criticisms may serve as correction for the wise so that we become prudent…if we’re wise (Proverbs 1.7; 15.5).  Proverbs also puts the opposite perfectly, “Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you yourself will be just like him” (Proverbs 26.4).  Yikes, as a leader (and if you’re a leader) this is potent yet sometimes difficult because it's [often] not wise to correct a fool when you want or need to, and I've learned to neither (or just never) argue with a fool either way.  This counsel is affirmed in Holy Scripture and nearly all cultures.  In life if you have to endure a fool just don't say anything, and you CAN just walk away.

Sip a good drink to complement your cigar. This is my favorite part of each day and it doesn't *always* need to include alcohol.  But this ritual is a time to chill for a moment and do the above because it’s so enjoyable and can open up quality time to recharge especially with my wife and friends.  I've personally found coffee, Ginger ale, or Whiskey or Scotch on the weekend to be great liquid companions for my cigar (Psalm 104.15; John 2; 1 Tim 5.33).

 

The Crisis of Evangelicalism

Original title: “Political Dealing: The Crisis of Evangelicalism”

Initial Publication April 20, 2018

 “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.” (Phil 2:5–8)

 This was speech was given by Fuller Seminary President Dr. Mark Labberton at a private meeting of evangelical leaders held at Wheaton College in Chicago, Illinois, on April 16, 2018. The following has been edited from his notes for clarity and to give context to excerpts that have been disseminated elsewhere.

…

This gathering is not an occasion for celebration of evangelicalism, however. This gathering emerges instead from worry, sorrow, anger, and bewilderment—whether we are Democrats or Republicans.  Christians in both parties found the others’ candidate patently unacceptable, leading to fierce division. Many felt cornered without a genuine choice when the issues represented are complex and fear is justified. This is not the first or last time the body of Christ has gathered in lament.  When evangelical leaders like us gather, it is often with a spirit of optimistic hope, known for “pressing on” in the work of the gospel. For me, this is not a time of pressing on. I feel a personal urgency to stop, to pray, to listen, to confess, and to repent and want to call us to do the same.

Only the Spirit “who is in the world to convict us of sin and righteousness and judgment” (John 16:8) can bring us to clarity about the crisis we face.  As I have sought that conviction, here is what I have come to believe: The central crisis facing us is that the gospel of Jesus Christ has been betrayed and shamed by an evangelicalism that has violated its own moral and spiritual integrity.

This is not a crisis imposed from outside the household of faith, but from within.  The core of the crisis is not specifically about Trump, or Hillary, or Obama, or the electoral college, or Comey, or Mueller, or abortion, or LGBTQIA+ debates, or Supreme Court appointees. Instead the crisis is caused by the way a toxic evangelicalism has engaged with these issues in such a way as to turn the gospel into Good News that is fake. Now on public display is an indisputable collusion between prominent evangelicalism and many forms of insidious racist, misogynistic, materialistic, and political power. The wind and the rain and the floods have come, and, as Jesus said, they will reveal our foundation.  In this moment for evangelicalism, what the storms have exposed is a foundation not of solid rock but of sand.

This is not a crisis taking place at the level of language. This is not about who owns or defines the term “evangelical,” and whether one does—or does not—choose to identify as such.  It is legitimate and important to debate if and how the term “evangelical” can currently be used in the United States to mean anything more than white, theologically and politically conservative. But that is not itself the crisis. The crisis is not at the level of our lexicon, but of our lives and a failure to embody the gospel we preach.  We may debate whether the word “evangelical” can or should be redeemed. But what we must deal with is the current bankruptcy many associate with evangelical life.

This is not a crisis unfolding at the level of group allegiance, denomination, or affiliation.  The varied reality that is American evangelicalism is evidenced in this room.  We have no formal hierarchy, leadership, or structure and form no single organization, but are sorted and divided today as we have been—for better and worse—for much of our history.  Some might wish for a clearer distinction between those who call themselves fundamentalist and those who call themselves evangelical. We might look to varying traditions or geographies to explain our division. These distinctions matter but can easily devolve into scapegoating or blaming, diverting us from our vocation as witness to God’s love for a multifaceted world.

This is not a recent crisis but a historic one.  We face a haunting specter with a shadow that reaches back further than the 2016 election—a history that helps define the depth of the sorrow, fear, anger, anxiety, and injustice around us. Today’s egregious collusion between evangelicals and worldly power is problematic enough: more painful and revealing is that such collusion has been our historic habit. Today’s collusion bears astonishing—and tragic—continuity with the past.

Right alongside the rich history of gospel faithfulness that evangelicalism has affirmed, there lies a destructive complicity with dominant cultural and racial power. Despite deep gospel confidence and rhetoric, evangelicalism has been long-wedded to a devastating social self-interest that defends the dominant culture over and against that of the gospel’s command to love the “other” as ourselves.  We are not naïve in our doctrine of sin that prefers self over all, but we have failed to recognize our own guilt in it.

Our professed trust in Jesus has not led evangelicals to die to ourselves, but often to justify our own self-assertion—even when that means complicity in the suffering and death of others. The scandal associated today with the evangelical gospel is not the scandal of the Cross of Christ, crucified for the salvation of the world.  Rather it is the scandal of our own arrogance, unconfessed before the Cross, revealing a hypocritical superiority that we dare to associate with the God who died to save the weak and the lost.

In order to be concrete about this, let me choose what I believe to be the top four arenas in which this violation of spiritual and moral character has shown itself:

First is the issue of power. 

Our primary confession that “Jesus is Lord” is a statement about power.  “The gospel is the power of God unto salvation, to the Jew first and also to the Greek” (Rom 1:16).  This is our hope and confidence, and as those who seek to live in the kingdom of God, we profess that Jesus is Lord and all other power must be reframed in light of this reality. The Apostle Paul says it this way:  “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross” (Phil 2:5–8).

In much of the last century, American evangelicalism has had a complex relationship with power.  On one hand, it has felt itself marginalized and repudiated, defeated and silenced. On the other, it has often seemed to seek—even fawn over—worldly power, mimicking in the church forms of power evident in our culture. (I remember being at a conference where it was announced we should all be back after dinner for “an evening of star-studded worship.”) An evangelical dance with political power has been going on from the time of Billy Graham, through the Moral Majority and the religious right, to the Tea Party, and most recently with the white evangelical vote—the result being, as honorary Chairman of the Lausanne Movement Doug Birdsall has said, “When you Google ‘evangelical,’ you get Trump.”

This points to an evangelical crisis over so many issues of power: racial, political, economic, cultural, right against left, Republican against Democrat, rich against poor, white against black, men against women, and so on. But winning power was the goal of Judas, not Jesus. A Faustian pact between evangelicals and power—even when claimed on behalf of the kingdom—cannot be entered in the name of Jesus Christ without betraying the abdication of power inherent in the incarnation. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son . . . .” (John 3:16)

Abuse of power is central in the national debates of the moment.  Whether we think about US militarism, or mass incarceration, or the #MeToo movement (or mistreatment of women in general), or the police shootings of unarmed, young, black men, or the actions of ICE toward child and adult immigrants, or gun use and control, or tax policy—all this is about power.  The apparent evangelical alignment with the use of power that seeks dominance, control, supremacy, and victory over compassion and justice associates Jesus with the strategies of Caesar, not with the good news of the gospel.

Second is the issue of race.

 The Bible knows all people to be fully human, fearfully and wonderfully made in God’s image, knit together in our mother’s womb. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, not just those who arrive as poor, hard-working immigrants fleeing violence or those wasting away in private prisons.  All are dead and in Christ made alive, and the evidence of the resurrection is that the peculiar body of God’s people, a new humanity of Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female, are to be the evidence of a resurrected God. This is the glory of creation and new creation.

Those of us who are white evangelicals must acknowledge that our story is intertwined with, and often responsible for, much of the violence and oppression around racial injustice in our American story.  The stories of Native American, African American, Latino/a, or Asian peoples in the history of the United States cannot be told truthfully without naming the role of white evangelicals who testified to a God of redemption but whose theological, political, social, and economic choices contributed to suffering and injustice.  Stories of devastation are often absent from a happier white evangelical narrative of promised-land life, or buried in a sanitized story that claims that past injustice is not relevant for people of color today—despite the fact that nearly all people of color experience racism and its implications every day around the nation, including those in this room today.   

This unreckoned-with reality of white evangelical racism permeates American life, and its tinderbox was lit on fire by the rhetoric of our national life in recent years—whether in reference to Ferguson, or Charlottesville, or “shithole countries” deemed without value. White history narrates the story of America’s heroes, and white evangelical history views those “good guys” as the providence of a good and faithful God.  When some white evangelicals triumphantly pronounce that we now have “the best president the religious right ever had,” the crisis it underscores to millions of people of color is not an indictment of our President as much as it is an indictment of white evangelicalism and a racist gospel.

Third is the issue of nationalism.

One of Israel’s particular temptations was to suppose that because the God of Israel was great, the people of Israel must be great, too.  No wonder God needed to remind them, “It was not because you were more in number than any other people that the LORD set his love on you and chose you, for you were the fewest of all peoples . . .” (Deut 7:7).  In the greatness of the God of Israel we are reminded of a national life to be centered not in its own greatness, or as the right of its people, but fixed in gratitude and faithfulness and humility before God and, from the New Testament, in service to the God who gave his Son out of love for the world.

By dramatic contrast, nationalism gives pride of place to ourselves, to regional or national assertions of primacy and the quest for power and success, control and dominance, legitimizing violence and pressing for victory.  Nationalism reveals that we have mis-ordered worship. Religiously motivated nationalism simply turns God into our “godling,” a deity subject to our bidding.

In the complex world of global politics and economics, religion and militarism, markets and globalization, nationhood is part of the shifting landscape of human powers and forces.  In a Christian hierarchy of kingdom values, nationhood has a legitimate place, but not a central or a top-tier one—and never one that displaces the authority of God.

For white evangelicals to embrace a platform and advocacy that promotes, prioritizes, and defends America above all and over all is to embrace an idolatry that has only ever proven disastrous.  Respect for nationhood, including borders and immigration, the rule of law, both internally and among the field of nations, are surely legitimate and defensible values. However, identification with the use of demeaning rhetoric toward other nations, not least nations of color that are facing the challenges of poverty and war, is not only confusing but violating to the dignity, value, and truth of the gospel. It is, as well, violating to the people we otherwise claim to see, serve, join, and love—nations to which, ironically, American evangelicals annually send millions of dollars for mission and evangelism.  A legitimate debate about immigration laws and practices is surely necessary, as difficult as it may be. But that debate is distorted if it begins with nationalistic assumptions.

The current administration’s rhetoric may be odious, pejorative, and totalizing against our international neighbors—yet we, too, demonstrate a gospel of fake good news when we ignore any needs or concerns that threaten our self-interests.  In a pluralistic population, debates over such things as immigration policy are legitimate and bound to be contentious. But when it seems that white evangelicals endorse self-interest through political speech that is nationalistic and demeaning to others, our central commitments do not reflect Jesus Christ, but rather a cold, white heart.

The people of God are to follow an enemy-loving God, as exemplified by the life of Jesus.  This is part of the call to our new and peculiar life. This is not meant to dictate national foreign policy, but to hold the people of God to a more severe and demanding standard, calling on our conscience when it comes to foreign policy in relation to the citizens of foreign, militarized, even violent states who are equally loved by God.

Fourth is the issue of economics. 

It is very hard to read the Bible and ignore God’s heart for the poor and the vulnerable.  Built into the faithfulness to which Israel is called are boundaries on personal wealth, stewardship for the common good, and relief and provision for the poor, the alien, and the widow.  Long before free market capitalism had developed, the God of Israel, the God revealed in Jesus Christ, was shown to bend toward mercy, with justice for the poor. It was one of Israel’s most distinctive priorities and practices. 

The life of Jesus underscores these themes throughout his public ministry. The dangers of power and greed, stoked by the biases of money and wealth, distort our lives.  The faithfulness of Christians in our economic and social vision and practice are to be reflective of God who reorders all these to the purposes of the kingdom. The social practices of the church are to demonstrate the presence of God as light and salt in an otherwise dark and savorless world.

American evangelicals have often divided over the significance of life this side of eternity, sometimes understanding the eschaton in ways that marginalize the significance of economics or race.  Yet the gracious magnanimity of God’s heart should be visible by the same magnanimity and grace we taste at the shared table and that is demonstrated toward our neighbor.

When white evangelicals in prominent and wealthy places speak about what is fair and beneficial for society, but then pass laws and tax changes that create more national indebtedness and elevate the top 1% even higher—while cutting services and provisions for children, the disabled, and the poor that are castigated as disgusting “entitlements”—one has to ask how this is reconciled with being followers of Jesus.  The complexities of social support for the vulnerable in our society certainly can and should be debated, but when the instigators of change are serving elite interests and disregarding the 99%, it is very hard to recognize the influence of the gospel narrative on compassion, let alone justice.

Still Evangelical or Yet Evangelical?

Absorbing all this, I am forced to kneel in confession, with trust that “the One who has begun a good work in us will bring it to completion in the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil 1:6).  Though I would like to think all this has little to do with me or with my evangelical point of view, I know I am among the guilty. The condemnation of a gospel life poorly lived sticks to me closer than I can see or know. It has significant implications for what it means to be president of an esteemed evangelical theological seminary—one that is highly racially diverse and yet predominantly white-cultured (not least at the senior levels of leadership); that has 70 countries represented in its student body but is still too Western-oriented; that strongly affirms women in ministry and leadership yet falls short in empowering their voices.

What brings me hope is something recorded at the end of the gospel of Matthew.  Matthew 28 contains the great commission and clarion call of our evangelical identity, but often less noted is the sentence just before the commission itself. The text simply says, “Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.” It was to fewer than the full 12, and to these not-so-sure believer/doubters, that Jesus gave the Great Commission anyway.  From the start, he called believer/doubters to the task, so perhaps he can also still use American evangelicals as well. Rather than take a defensive posture, may we open ourselves to the repentant and hopeful posture that God will make us yet truly adherents to the “evangel” at the heart of our association. The evangelical mission is God’s from start to finish.

The Lord Jesus Christ gathers us here for real work.  May it be a work of grace that moves us to repentance, leading to personal and systemic change.  May it move us deeper into the life and heart of God.

Source: https://www.fuller.edu/posts/political-dealing-the-crisis-of-evangelicalism/

The Ancient Jews Carried Trauma And Joy Into Their New Lives. We Can, Too

 

Blessings and greetings from the Sinai Peninsula.  There are profound Biblical and historical perspectives being here in all the five senses…well six (+ spirit too).  For virtually everyone on this dear planet, life has been difficult and traumatic as the events of the era we’re living in continue to assault our hope, our health, and our peace.  I came across a helpful commentary in this week’s Sinai/Israel headlines that blessed me with a fresh dose of perspective and hope.  As much as it blessed me, I hope it blesses you too.  Blessed Passover and Easter Fam (1 Corinthians 5:7)! 

The Ancient Jews Carried Trauma And Joy Into Their New Lives. We Can, Too

by Jessica Ullian, March 30, 2021

“Passover, the Jewish holiday that commemorates the ancient Jews’ liberation from slavery in Egypt, arrived three weeks into our 2020 quarantine. We adapted last year, moving our family seder dinners to Zoom — quickly learning its limitations with group singing. On the second night of Passover, we began counting the Omer, the 49-day period that’s connected to the harvest and to the holiday of Shavuot, when the Jews received the Torah at Mount Sinai.

It’s difficult, already, to remember the specifics from those early weeks of the pandemic. Uncertainty and fear colored every moment. Each day brought a new, terrifying milestone as COVID-19 cases and deaths rose, and our return to school and work was delayed indefinitely. But back then, 49 days seemed just distant enough to hold promise; maybe, I hoped, the pandemic would be under control in those seven weeks, and we’d be back to normal.

Instead, our quarantine year anniversary has passed, and a second Zoom Seder with it. I’m counting the Omer again this year, with a new blend of emotions: grief, resignation, a touch of superstition — should I repeat my rituals from 2020, or consider them cursed? Yet I’m also counting the days with a stronger sense of hope. I don’t believe in “back to normal” anymore; with all the losses of this year, normal is a state many of us can’t reach. I do believe in better, though, and these days I wake up knowing that some version of better lies ahead.

At Passover, we re-tell the story of the ancient Jews’ escape from Egypt: the plagues raining upon Pharaoh, the Jews fleeing so quickly there wasn’t time to let the bread rise, the Red Sea miraculously parting to let them through. When we begin counting the Omer on the second night, we’re continuing the story: we fled Egypt as a group, but didn’t become what most of us recognize as “the Jewish people” until we received the Torah at Mount Sinai. That’s what we celebrate on Shavuot, after counting those 49 days: the moment we agreed, collectively, on the shared identity and principles that bound us together.

This year, I find myself wondering about that in-between time in a new way. I’d always envisioned the ancient Jews leaving Egypt with joy and excitement about a life of freedom. In truth, many must have been terrified and unsure. They probably worried about what lay ahead, and doubted their compatriots along the way. Counting the Omer, and celebrating Shavuot, are a reminder that it’s not always so easy to emerge from trauma; it takes time to heal, and trust in one another to become whole again.

This past year, we have all been living through trauma, and it feels hard to become whole. There has been so much loss, so much bitterness, so much disappointment and distrust to bear. We’ve battled our teachers, our neighbors and our family members. We have not embraced, sufficiently, a shared sense of identity and responsibility for each other.

By counting the Omer this year, I’m allowing myself to sit with this darkness, even as we move toward some light. Taking it day by day, I find myself more patient with the process, more grateful for how far we’ve come already. At this time last year, our playgrounds were blocked off with caution tape; this weekend, my children played for hours, masked, with friends. Last year, we worried about finding groceries; now, we’re adept at scheduling curbside pickups. Last year, we held two Seders on Zoom; this year, we braved the rain and gathered in our backyard for the holiday's second night, in a small group at a safe distance.

It wasn’t anything like normal, but it felt like a moment of triumph, and a reason for joy.

When the ancient Jews received the Torah, it didn’t bring the story to a neat and tidy ending. The pandemic won’t have one, either. There are losses we won’t ever get over; many of us will be hurting for a long time. But with each passing day, I know that I’ve held on this far, and can hold on a little longer. By the time we finish counting the Omer in May, we’ll have long days of warmth and light waiting for us. This year, that’s enough. 

 1"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." (Hebrews 12:1-3)

Death Rehearsal

 By John Piper

You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning: in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers. . . . So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:5–6, 12)

             For me, the end of a year is like the end of my life. And 11:59 pm on December 31 is like the moment of my death.

The 365 days of the year are like a miniature lifetime. And these final hours are like the last days in the hospital after the doctor has told me that the end is very near. And in these last hours, the lifetime of this year passes before my eyes, and I face the inevitable question: Did I live it well? Will Jesus Christ, the righteous Judge, say “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21)?

I feel very fortunate that this is the way my year ends. And I pray that the year’s end might have the same significance for you.

The reason I feel fortunate is that it is a great advantage to have a trial run at my own dying. It is a great benefit to rehearse once a year in preparation for the last scene of your life. It is a great benefit because the morning of January 1 will find most of us still alive, at the brink of a whole new lifetime, able to start fresh all over again.

The great thing about rehearsals is that they show you where your weaknesses are, where your preparation was faulty; and they leave you time to change before the real play in front of a real audience.

I suppose for some of you the thought of dying is so morbid, so gloomy, so fraught with grief and pain that you do your best to keep it out of your minds, especially during holidays. I think that is unwise and that you do yourself a great disservice. I have found that there are few things more revolutionizing for my life than a periodic pondering of my own death.

How do you get a heart of wisdom so as to know how best to live? The psalmist answers:

          You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning: in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers. . . . So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:5–6, 12)

Numbering your days simply means remembering that your life is short and your dying will be soon. Great wisdom — great, life-revolutionizing wisdom — comes from periodically pondering these things.

The criterion of success, that Paul used to measure his life, was whether he had kept the faith. “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing” (2 Timothy 4:7–8). Let this be our test at year’s end.

And if we discover that we did not keep the faith this past year, then we can be glad, as I am, that this year-end death is (probably) only a rehearsal, and a whole life of potential faith-keeping lies before us in the next year.

Source: https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/death-rehearsal?utm_campaign=Solid+Joys&utm_medium=email&_hsmi=104897017&_hsenc=p2ANqtz-8944i3NO0mtlUbbQ-ozcnBdER3Pb-EqcbVuGYOzp84HiYuG9PDv8XmtO0I2jO8k5N8DmAoRCnTZ4ciaRUaPPDzfRmy3Q&utm_content=104897017&utm_source=hs_email