I have written before about the cowardice of paper prophets. These thundering heroes build a following and a reputation by denouncing with great vigor and panache the errors of those who are not their audience. They are preaching against Ninevah in Jerusalem, pronouncing woe against Jerusalem in Cleveland. When we do this we get credit for courage when all we are really doing is tickling ears.
Now I have friends, plenty of them, at varying distances from my ideological sweet spot. And I have plenty of concerns over them, usually their distance from my ideological sweet spot. But what really concerns me is the weaknesses evident among those who are just like me.
Of course all sin, sooner or later, traces its origins back to the father of sins, the devil, and the mother of sin in him, pride. Check the tag on any given sin and it is apt to declare, “Brought to you by pride.” Pride, however, has numerous nuances, and we are not safe if we avoid their kind of pride, while embracing our own kind of pride.
Consider we Christians, and how we look at the world. They proudly deny not just the truth of the gospel, but the truth of truth. We believers, on the other hand, affirm the truth of truth while thinking we do so because we’re so smart. Consider how one group of Christians look at other groups of Christians. They proudly embrace the tactics of the world, marketing the gospel. We deny the wisdom of this approach, and proudly think ourselves wise for thinking so. We reject the worldliness of a gaudy pride, while nurturing the worldliness of a smug pride. We look down our noses at each of these groups for looking down their noses at us. We are Smug-ol, alone in our dark cave, caressing our precious ring of orthodoxy and orthopraxy.
It is smugness that worries me, that quiet, unassuming assumption that I am not only better than other men, but disdainful of them, beyond them, in possession of the one truth to unite them all. It is the fatal presumption that the world would be a better place if everyone were just like me.
The solution, of course, is not to deny the power of the truth we have learned. Insofar as our convictions flow out of the Bible, they are indeed eternally precious. Instead the solution, as is so often the case, is gratitude and humility. God did not reveal His truth to us so that we could stroke it in some dark cave. He gave it to us that we might let His light shine before men, and that we might give thanks to the praise of His glory.
Whether one, like the world, is proud of one’s sin, or if one, like me, is proud of one’s right thinking and right doing, one is still caught in the web of pride. What we must cast into the fires is not the righteousness but the pride. What we must do is repent and believe the gospel, giving thanks. People like me need to learn this wisdom from The prophet, that blessed are the poor in spirit, for ours is His kingdom.
We know more than we let on. So Paul tells us in Romans 1. Still our conclusions are not the fruit of careful, dispassionate reasoning. Motives mix up our minds, and too often we end up believing not what we know but what we want to believe. Which is one reason I am so grateful for those who faithfully go, stand and speak outside the baby killing centers in our neighborhoods.
The “clients” come in various groupings: boyfriends with their girlfriends; girls with their girl friends; even grandmothers with pregnant granddaughters. They come knowing that they are not there to have cells removed. They come to murder their unborn babies. The tool they use to suppress that truth, however, is its very banality, its ordinariness. They tell themselves that it’s no big deal, precisely because the world doesn’t make a big deal out of it. They think they will walk in, hand over their cash, and walk out just a little more hollow. Ordinary Christians, lining the sidewalk, speak a very simple truth- You are going in there to murder babies. Some, on the sidewalk come to hold up signs of aborted babies. Some stand and silently pray. Some gently plead. Some boldly preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. All tell the truth- You are about to murder your baby. All tell the truth- the culture is lying; you are about to murder your baby. All tell the truth- you know the truth. If you will embrace Him, you will find life abundant.
Some of the couples walk past sharing the nervous laughter of those walking through a graveyard. Some angrily denounce. Many draw their hoods over their faces, blocking their ears with their earbuds, and hurry past. All hear the truth- I’m here to murder my baby- and all feel its weight. They don’t believe the lie. They do, however, act on it. They murder their babies. They go home, and like those on the sidewalk, they mourn the death of their babies. They suppressed the truth, and the result was something even more perverse, more unnatural, than the burning lusts of those Paul addresses in Romans 1-¬- mommies murdering their own babies. As perverse as it is, we ought not find this shocking, to be surprised that the unregenerate side with the lies. All of us, in our natural state are of our father, the father of lies.
The second lie is worse. Inside the church, inside the vibrant, orthodox, passionate, politically active, evangelical church we believe this lie- Abortion is a political issue. We should vote for that electable candidate that is more “pro-life” than the other electable candidate. We believe this lie- that abortion is a bad social problem. We should write a check to the Crisis Pregnancy Center. I saw the truth when I went there, to the killing place. Twenty yards away there was no political issue. Twenty yards away there was no bad social problem. I learned the same truth as those who went inside- those who went inside were murdering their babies. For every living pair of moms and babies, only one would get out alive.
Political issues are solved politically. Social problems are solved socially. But when babies are being murdered, we are called to go there, to stand, and to speak. We are called to bring the potent and powerful Word of God to bear at the very gates of hell. We are called to bear witness to Him, who bore our shame. We, each of us, carry within us the Spirit of Truth. He indwells us. When we suppress the truth, however, we quench Him. Praise God by His omnipotent grace, we are then convicted. We then go, kneel and weep. Our hands are bloody. But they are washed in His blood.
It is easy to be discouraged, to grow battle weary. The war between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent has been going on for millenia and may continue for millenia more. In our own corner of the kingdom, in our own stage of the battle we are watching the saltiness of the body washed away in a storm of worldliness, while the world grows more putrid and more dark. When, however, we find ourselves surrounded by our enemies we can at least give thanks for the target rich environment.
Which brings us to the first blessing. We have plenty to do. Our Lord has blessed us with an abundance of opportunities to see Him at work through us. We’re not in a time or place where coasting is an option. Real damage is being done by the enemy which makes the real healing of the balm of Gilead that much more needful.
Second, our culture’s decay has made it increasingly difficult to confuse the city of God with the city of man. Augustine wrote his famous work, The City of God, in large part to help God’s people understand that the fall of Rome was not the fall of Christ’s kingdom. The more influence God’s people have on the broader culture the more that broader culture looks like God’s people. That can be a good thing. But it can also be a bad thing because we often confuse what we are with what we should be. No believer under Nero faced the temptation to wrap the gospel in the Roman flag. The devil’s faux kingdom is removing its mask, revealing the ugliness that was always there.
Third, the culture’s decay makes our message increasingly distinct and therefore, easier for unbelievers to hear. The more people sink into sin, the more their lives push against the image of God that they bear, the more difficult it becomes for them to suppress the truth in unrighteousness. A man leading a quiet life like Mr. Cleaver could, like the rich young ruler, persuade himself that he’s doing well enough to earn God’s favor. A man dragging his friend-with-benefits to the killing center to snuff out their unborn child’s life knows what he is. As does she.
Last, the culture’s decay makes our message increasingly distinct and therefore, easier for us believers to hear. We who have already confessed that we are sinners, who have already cried out for God’s mercy in Christ, will on this side of the veil always need to confess that we are sinners and cry out for God’s mercy in Christ. The corrupt culture around us isn’t just around us but in us. To win the battle we must ask Him to go before us, and to come against us. For what we fight out there we find in here. And He alone gives the victory.
I’m not, of course, arguing that culturally speaking we should sin all the more that grace might abound. There are great hardships that come with living in a decaying culture. He, however, has not left us, nor forsaken us. And He has called us to be of good cheer for He has already overcome the world. Things are not as they are supposed to be, which is precisely how they are supposed to be. To God be the glory.
I know a man. He studied to become a pastor. More than 35 years ago he became the shepherd of a local church in a small, midwestern town. The church was not at all large but began to grow under his leadership. He preached from God’s Word each week. He took the time to give wise counsel to his flock. The church continued to grow. Other churches offered him opportunities in bigger cities with bigger congregations. But he stayed put.
Over time, as the pastor spent time in his study pouring over God’s Word he began to adjust some of his convictions. He did not depart from historical orthodoxy but he did come to hold positions that often keep churches divided. He taught on some of these doctrines. Here and there a few members of the flock sought different grazing grounds. But he stayed put.
The pastor was invited to regular prayer meetings with other pastors in the community. These meetings were not thinly veiled networking events. They weren’t designed to grow any particular pastor’s power, nor to spread a particular message. The men prayed that God would reveal to them how they might better serve Him. They committed to a level of openness that led to moments of weeping and release. The pastor found the meetings invigorating, life-changing even. They did not, however, change his calling. He stayed put.
The pastor buried his wife and co-laborer in the Lord when she was called home. He stayed put. The church began to show its age, both inside and out. The man continued to preach God’s Word. And he stayed put. His children grew up, married, had families of their own. Many of them began to worship elsewhere, other churches in the area that faithfully preached God’s Word. The pastor stayed put.
After more than 30 years in the pulpit the church, it, along with the rest of the world, entered into the COVID era. The church set up sufficient technology that those who wanted to stay home could still worship “with” the congregation. The church continued as well to meet in person. The pastor didn’t make a fuss, sought as much as possible to stay within the law. He never was arrested, charged, nor covered by national media. What he did was he preached the gospel. And he stayed put.
When other churches returned to meeting in person, a number of those who had been worshipping at the church online did not return. It would not be long before the sanctuary started to look mostly empty. Numbers dropped. Giving dropped. Optimism in the congregation dropped. The man stayed put. Last Sunday I was privileged once again to listen to him preach. He reminded us that we are sinners in ourselves. He reminded us that we are not in ourselves. He reminded us that Jesus died for us. He reminded us that our heavenly Father loves us. He fed us with the Word, with bread and with wine. Next Sunday he will be there again. Because he stays put. I know a man who knows the Man. I love them both.
There are two raging rivers, culturally speaking, that converge to form the lazy river of mediocrity. First, we do not know the excellent. Goodness, truth, and beauty, as the great triad of virtues, are so much more demanding, not simply to create, but to even enjoy, than okay-ness, funny-ness and pretty-ness. Entering into that towering poem The Wasteland by T.S. Elliot requires of us a higher aesthetic than we have obtained. It requires a greater familiarity with that which was great in the past than we are willing to acquire. It requires training and work. To enter the more familiar wasteland of our culture all you need is Alexa or Siri. To put it another way, one of our great problems as we receive culture is that we are too easily satisfied, too easily entertained. We get mediocrity in large part because that is what we ask for. Ninety-eight percent of us in the past year consumed a “meal” at McDonalds, not because we were reaching higher, but because it would do.
The second great river at the source of mediocrity is one that precedes our particular culture. It is a problem, a weakness, a sin that has been with us since Adam first led Eve east of Eden. The problem is sloth. The medieval theologians, when compiling the list of what would come to be known as “The Seven Deadly Sins” included in their list things we might expect, like lust, or even gluttony. But sloth? Where did that come from? How did it make the list? The list had two fundamental criteria. First, the list would include those sins that are most apt to beset most of us. It is almost certainly a sin to smash your car up with a sledgehammer. Not many of us, however, fight desperately against that temptation. Lust, gluttony, and sloth, however, have wide appeal. The second criteria, however, is that these sins were believed to be root sins, sins that were apt to sprout still more sins. It may be that sloth is what gives rise, for instance, to theft.
That list, we must remember, was concocted during the Middle Ages. Things moved pretty slowly then. Surely the same warning wouldn’t apply to us. We live in America, home of the Puritan work ethic. We have smart phones and laptops so that we can carry our work around with us wherever we go. We put in long hours so that we might climb the corporate ladder. We burn the midnight oil and the candle at both ends. How can sloth get a toe-hold on us? Because there is a great chasm that separates feeling busy with being busy, and an even greater chasm between being busy and working hard.
We feel busy because we schedule too much stuff. If I can’t miss my weekly golf game, my monthly poker night, my current binging favorite, the Braves game, and a little “me time” here or there, I will surely feel busy. The trouble is, I feel busy because work creeps into my insatiable demand for play time. But even if that doesn’t describe me, if I am busy checking for emails, looking up the stock indexes, going to meetings and writing things down in my daytimer, I still haven’t actually produced anything. Work means getting real things done that actually help people. And that is a far greater challenge than being busy.
It has been said that any given job can be done with two of three qualities. It can be done quickly and cheaply, but not well. It can be done quickly and well, but not cheaply. It can be done cheaply and well, but not quickly. We have, as a culture, chosen quickly and cheaply. And having chosen thus, we find ourselves diminished, for we find that we like it that way. We find that we are not merely willing to accept mediocrity, but that we crave it.
The Bible offers a different call. We are to do our work “as unto the Lord.” We should be known by the world around us as the most diligent of laborers and craftsmen. We ought also, however, be known as those with the most discriminating tastes. For we are to seek out those things that reflect the Lord, that show forth His glory. We are to surround ourselves with “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Phil. 4:8). May our work and our play be suffused with excellence, that our Maker’s name might be praised.
