Metaphysics and oatmeal

Having two young children is a wonderful joy, and it provides much fodder for meditation on philosophy. This morning the pathway into philosophy was a dispute over the availability of cranberries for my youngest son’s bowl of oatmeal. The dialogue I overheard went something like this:

Son: I want cranberries.

Mom: We don’t have any cranberries.

Son: We DO have cranberries.

Hmm. Indeed, we did not have cranberries. Cinnamon and sugar would have to suffice.

There’s something about us as humans that causes us not only to wish reality were different at times, but also to deny reality. The Bible tells us in Romans 1 that this denial takes place at the highest level: people deny the existence of God and suppress the knowledge of Him not because of lack of evidence, but because of their desire to worship other things. Those of us who follow Jesus make a similar mistake when we deny biblical truths that don’t suit our mood or desire at that moment.

This is why it is helpful to continually remind ourselves that truth is objective and external to us. In other words, we may want to have cranberries, but if we don’t have any cranberries, then saying we have them is not going to get them into our bowls. I cannot make something true just by proclaiming it to be true.

And though this may sometimes seem restrictive to us, without this notion of truth we couldn’t make logical statements and even communicate with one another. That, my friends, would be worse than oatmeal without cranberries, cinnamon, or sugar.

—Beau Stanley

Reawakening to music

Those of you who have followed Jesus for a while could probably testify that there are times and seasons in your relationship with Him that different points of emphasis arise. Sometimes the Lord draws our attention to the importance of praying for other people—perhaps specific people. Sometimes He calls our attention to thanksgiving, or confession, or other things. As we seek Him, we might find that we gain insight into relating to Him. And lately for me, one thing that has been on my mind is the value of music.

Music, you say? Indeed, music. Perhaps you’ve noticed that when we sing certain truths about God, it has a powerful effect. I can’t say exactly why this happens, but the model of juxtaposing relationship with God and song is well attested in the Bible. One example: the whole book of Psalms records praises, laments, entreaties, confessions, and more that were originally communicated musically. When we spend a good deal of time singing to the Lord in our modern worship services, there is ample biblical warrant for this.

So why not incorporate song into our private devotional times as well? I have been enjoying this lately, and I find that a well-written song can help me express particularly praise to God in a way that is really moving. If you are doing this early in the morning, you might want to use headphones and sing softly. But God will still hear.

Are there particular artists or songs that have been a blessing to you?

—Beau Stanley

The road to hell is paved with adverbs

I guess one picks up a lot at seminary, but one of the bits of instruction that has stuck with me the most is not exactly what one would expect. My preaching professor, either in general instruction or an evaluation of one of my sermons, one day presented the clever pseudo-axiom, “The road to hell is paved with adverbs.” The saying was not original with him, but I still find it geekishly funny enough to include in a Monday blog post.

What does this mean? For Dr. Moody I think it was part of an overarching attempt to get me to be a more direct speaker. When one is speaking or writing, it’s easy enough to add circumlocutions, unnecessary modifying phrases, introductions to introductions, and so on. This makes for fluffy presentations and mutes the impact of what one is trying to say.

Sometimes I think Christians have a way of adverbializing the Gospel. The good news of Jesus is supremely rich and has tremendous implications for life. We can mute its effect, though, by overcomplicating it and adding to it. Paul could summarize his interactions with the Corinthians by saying that he “decided to know nothing among [them] except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2). Later in the same letter, he explained the Gospel essentially in six verses (1 Corinthians 15:3–8), and his words here could be accurately distilled to ten words: “Christ died for our sins and rose from the dead.”*

Thank you, Jesus, for the simplicity of the Gospel.

—Beau Stanley

A good problem to have

Christians often talk about the grace of God in Jesus Christ, and well we should. One can’t understand Christianity without understanding the notion of grace, or unmerited favor, as some have clarified it. The Bible says that Jesus died and was raised from the dead to save us from a problem we couldn’t solve, namely, our separation from God because of sin. It presents the somewhat shocking truth that eternal life is received as a free gift by trusting in Jesus. Those who believe experience right relationship with God, and have total security, immense significance, and a myriad of other benefits.

There’s a little problem with this, admittedly. Anytime we speak of the grace of God and the gift of God, we also have to recognize that these things are free, undeserved, unearned. This naturally makes much of God, but it nullifies our sense that we have contributed anything to the blessings we experience. Perhaps subtly, we struggle with grace because it deflects attention from the recipient and toward the Giver of the gift.

In the end, the self-diminishing inherent in accepting grace is a very good problem to have. It’s worth a little bruising of the ego because it results in rest, peace, joy, focus on others, and so forth. So on this Wednesday, my suggestion is that we lay hold of God’s grace at the cost of our own pride. If we do this, we’ll start to notice that the good news really is good news.

—Beau Stanley

Agents, not just recipients

I realize there’s a bit of risk in using the term “agent” on a men’s blog when one is referring to something other than a person who represents professional athletes. But bear with me if you would.

Lately I’ve been working through a book by Dr. Amos Yong called The Bible, Disability, and the Church. I didn’t just pick up this book randomly. To me, disability is not simply an abstract concept—it is personally significant. The same is true for Yong, a professor of theology whose brother is affected by Down syndrome. I suspect that Yong’s book would be a challenging read for many who are not particularly well versed in theology or biblical studies, but it is quite interesting and thought-provoking.

In the book, Yong argues that people with disabilities of various kinds are absolutely crucial to the Church. He invites us, with Paul, “to reconsider people with disabilities, seeing them less as passive recipients of the church’s charity and more as agents capable of being contributing members to the body of Christ.”*

What does it mean to say that someone is an agent? Essentially it is to say that the person has the ability to do. This seems to be an essential aspect of what it means to be made in the image of God. When we view people as agents, we dignify them by acknowledging their ability to contribute through their unique gifts and talents. Within the context of the Church we can go further, as Yong points out, and recognize that the Church functions properly when all believers’ contributions are valued. He notes that is especially so with regard to those whose spiritual gifts might be overlooked, for as Paul says, “the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable” (1 Corinthians 12:22 ESV).

We see here a principle that extends far beyond our approach to people with disabilities. We are all people, all created in the image of God. We also fall short of the glory of God and are in great need of Jesus’ grace. When you look at all that, it creates a pretty level playing field on which humility will never be penalized.

—Beau Stanley

*(Yong, pp. 108–109).

How sinful is the lead foot?

Welcome to our Wednesday “Ask Beau” post. The purpose of this weekly feature is to provide you, our readers, with biblical responses to questions you have about practical issues that you face.

As always, you may submit questions for future “Ask Beau” posts by contacting us at frontier@gracebrethren.org, or by leaving a comment on this post.

(Note: This post was originally published on thefrontieratgrace.com on August 8, 2012.)

From time to time, the issue of obeying the speed limit comes up in Christian circles, often in discussions of integrity, true obedience, and so forth. Is driving over the speed limit a sin? Those who answer this question with a “no” of some kind are sometimes painted as licentious or not serious about holiness. Those who answer the question with an unqualified “yes” are sometimes seen as legalistic or unrealistic. I thought it might be helpful to take a brief look back at some biblical and ethical issues involved here in order to help us drive forward (pardon the pun), even as we acknowledge that this apparently simple question is not that simple at all.

Virtually no Bible expositor that I am aware of would deny the basic premise that Christians are to obey the government, based on direct teaching to this effect in Romans 13:1–6, as well as the overarching biblical instruction about submission to authority (see, for example, Ephesians 5:22–24; 6:1–3, 5–8; Hebrews 13:17; 1 Peter 2:16–20). And while there is some disagreement about the extent to which the Bible limits obedience to government (consider Acts 5:28,29, for example), I doubt this disagreement is in play here since I have never heard someone challenge the government’s right to set traffic laws.

However, I’m quite uncomfortable saying that a sin-ometer necessarily blinks red in heaven when a motorist accelerates to 66 mph in a 65 zone. In a recent conversation with a police officer who has much biblical knowledge and ministry experience, he said that he sees this as a “letter of the law vs. spirit of the law” issue (see 2 Corinthians 3:6). I and many others agree with him. What we are suggesting is that the number posted on the speed limit sign is not the only factor one should weigh when considering if sin is involved.

If the primary biblical injunction here is to obey the governmental authorities, we might want to consider how the authorities look at this subject. Speed enforcement protocols typically dictate that law enforcement officers not enforce minor speed excesses, and that they more aggressively enforce speed laws as motorists exceed the speed limit by larger degrees. The point of traffic laws is to protect the public, and the flexibility of enforcement here should make us question whether we can legitimately speak of 66 in a 65 as disobedience per se.

Here is a helpful acid-test question that we can ask ourselves: “If a police officer were monitoring my speed right now, would he or she approve of the speed at which I am driving?” (Note that I did not say that this only applies when I am actually being monitored by a police officer.) This question allows for some flexibility for road conditions, accelerating to avoid dangerous situations, the speed of the flow of traffic, etc., while still upholding submission to authority. A friend and colleague of mine likes to illustrate Colossians 3:23 (which deals with slaves’ obedience to masters) by pointing out that people often abruptly slow down when a police officer comes into view. If we find that we “must” do this, it may well indicate that something’s not right.

As the police officer with whom I discussed this question pointed out, it is important for us not to ignore the role of the heart in all of this. Helpfully the officer noted that people may speed for a number of reasons, from ignorance to impatience and beyond. He counsels people to examine the attitudes of their heart that are driving them (another pun) to speed and to deal with these issues before God. This counsel is wise and completely consistent with the Bible’s statements about the root of behavior (Matthew 15:17–20; Luke 6:45).

What are your thoughts on this topic?

—Beau Stanley

The “usefulness” of worry

You know, it’s strange but true: sometimes we try to out-think Jesus.

For millennia believers have been comforted by Jesus words in Matthew 6:34: “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (ESV). Simple enough. There’s plenty we ought to concern ourselves with today, and Jesus instructs us to focus on that rather than on anxieties about the future.

Sometimes we struggle to do this, though, and often there’s a subtle reason for this. We’d rather worry about the future than perform the task that lays in front of us.

Is it possible that certain days become “worry days,” not so much because the future is less bright, but because the day in question contains responsibilities that we’d rather avoid? On such days, worry about the future is no better for us or anyone else, but it is more useful for avoiding the present.

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise us, then, that there’s an inverse correlation between the zeal with which we approach today’s responsibilities and the anxiety we have about tomorrow’s responsibilities.

This isn’t just a handy little trick – it flows from a profound theological truth. Jesus is the ultimate and only source of true joy (John 14:6), so when we worry about the future, we’re effectively putting our own concerns in front of Him—and thus in front of our own happiness (see the prior verse).

Jesus, yet again, you were right.

—Beau Stanley

The beauty of a 12-degree morning

Winter brings with it some interesting challenges, especially if one parks his car outside.

Yes, I’m often absent-minded—I admit it. A couple of weeks ago we had a 12-degree morning here in Columbus. Here is an approximate record of the sequence of events that ensued:

1. Walk out front door, put bags in car, start car.
2. Open garage, take stocking-stuffer de-icer off shelf, spray windshield.
3. Put back de-icer.
4. Close garage door.
5. Realize that I started the car with the wrong key chain.
6. Decide to de-ice front step.
7. Re-open garage door to get salt.
8. Salt front step.
9. Put back salt.
10. Close garage door.
11. Turn off car to get to house keys so I can lock house.
12. Go inside and get rest of bags.
13. Lock house, restart car, put bags in car, and head off.

As I said, I’m a little absent-minded, but suffice it to say that in the winter there are more such steps required to get where you need to go. Winter just has a different, slower, sometimes clunkier rhythm associated with it.

I guess I’ve come to appreciate the change in the seasons more than I used to, even though each season brings its own challenges. We get winter’s cold, but we get winter’s beauty and the coziness of home and Christmastime. Sometimes summer gets really hot, but it’s often sunny and there’s more daylight to enjoy with our families, friends, and neighbors.

And behind it all stands a wonderfully creative God who seems to enjoy variety—not necessarily the variety that comes by being overly busy or overcommitted, but the simpler variety that lies all around us in His creation.

Let’s thank Him for His goodness.

—Beau Stanley

Evil is still evil

Those of you who were watching NBC’s most recent broadcast of Sunday Night Football may have ended up unexpectedly taking in a speech by President Obama, as I did.

Early in the game the network broke from covering football to provide live coverage of President Obama’s remarks at the Sandy Hook interfaith prayer vigil. Mr. Obama’s words were replete with spiritual and biblical references, including a direct quotation of 2 Corinthians 4:16-5:1. Much in the speech was noteworthy, but today I’d just like to highlight Mr. Obama’s use of a helpful but vanishing four-letter word: “evil.”

In commending the community of Newtown, Connecticut, for its response to Friday’s tragic events, President Obama said that Newtown had acted “in the face of unconscionable evil.” Later he conceded that “no single law, no set of laws, can eliminate evil from our world, or prevent every senseless act of violence in our society.”

Mr. Obama’s use of the term “evil” here is consistent with the Bible’s description of it. Evil has been around for a long time—it has been in our world since the events of Genesis 3—and it’s not going anywhere until Jesus establishes the new heaven and new earth (Revelation 21:4 ESV). Furthermore, we need not mute our appraisal of morally repugnant acts like murdering 26 people, including 20 children, by making this a matter of opinion. The president wasn’t saying, “This was unconscionable evil, in my opinion.” He was saying, “This was unconscionable evil, period.”

We would do well to recognize that such statements, which rightly resonate with us, are impossible in a morally relativistic framework. If we abandon the concept of absolute truth and morality, we also abandon the right to label even the most heinous acts as heinous in any universal sense. The best we could do is to say, “I find them heinous”—a much weaker and immeasurably less satisfying position. When we honestly wrestle with the repulsion we feel toward evil acts, we know that our repulsion is rooted in something much deeper than preference and individual perception.

Please join me in praying for the families affected by this unconscionable evil.

—Beau Stanley

The value of a good question

I wouldn’t classify myself as a confrontational person, but I have had some confrontations in my life, some of them memorable. My first memorable confrontation occurred in the second grade. It was precipitated not by a bully’s cruelty, but by my teacher’s fondness for calling me “motor mouth.”

In his defense, the title was probably deserved, but my parents used this as a character-building exercise. They encouraged me to tell my teacher that the name bothered me. I told him, and I don’t think he ever referred to me as motor mouth again. That doesn’t mean that I’ve never been verbose since then, I’m afraid.

James tells us to be “quick to hear, slow to speak, [and] slow to anger” (James 1:19), and we might well note that one cannot be hearing and speaking at the same time. Excessive speech is actually foolish (see, for example, Proverbs 10:19), so for those of us who have a tendency to be a little windy, it can be quite helpful to learn the value of a good question.

When we ask good questions, we demonstrate to people that we are interested in what they have to say. We enable ourselves to understand their viewpoints. Asking good questions is a form of service. And as Greg Koukl explains, questions even usefully shape our dialogue with those with whom we disagree. Good questions take the conversational burden off the questioner and remind us that dialogue is not just about coming up with the best zingers.

Here’s a question for you, then: who are the best “question-askers” that you know? Do you enjoy speaking with them?

—Beau Stanley