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.
We could, in the spirit of political correctness, suggest that such a question is out of bounds. We could affirm that everyone is special in their own way, and protect the self-esteem of the supers. On the other hand, we could have a debate over the right criteria by which to judge. Are we asking who has the coolest super-power? Who has the best alter ego? Whose transformation story is the most compelling? Indeed once one finds the proper criteria by which to judge, the answers just seem to come naturally.
I have two competing criteria that I value highly. Not wanting to choose I will therefore divide the question in two, affirming which is the greatest classic super-hero and which is the greatest modern superhero. First the classic.
By classic I mean those supers whose beginnings came in the heyday of the comic book. Here we find some astonishing super-powers, some engaging alter egos, and some compelling back stories. The best standard, I would argue, however, is this- who makes the most of what he’s got? Which means, of course, that Batman wins, hands down. Batman, frankly, has no super-powers. He is not from another planet, or a lost civilization. He has not been infected with radiation, nor visited by ancient gods. No, Batman fights with his wealth, his wits and his will. The first two, wealth and wits, create the technology that is so vital to his battle plan. It is his iron will, however, that brings it all together. Criminals fear him not because of what he can do, but because of what he wants- justice. In the first “battle” of the first modern movie account Batman holds a terrified petty criminal over the edge of a skyscraper. The terrified thug squeaks out, “What are you?” And Batman had me at “I’m Batman, and I want you to tell all your friends about me.”
I’m not the most physically gifted man in the world. I never was growing up. But I have always been competitive. Will means quite a bit to me, and so Batman receives one crown. On the other hand there is work to be done even more important than cleaning up Gotham. Most supers are socially awkward, isolated, islands. One modern hero, however, exhibits the greatest of virtues- he loves his wife and children. Indeed he loves his wife and children enough to endure the crushing weight of hiding his super-ness. Mr. Incredible wins my vote in the modern category not because of his astonishing super gifts, but because of his ordinary and therefore inspiring love for his family. I want not to be like his super-identity, but his alter ego, for that, in this instance, is not only who he really is, but who he really wants to be.
In the real world we value the wrong things. We value skills over drive, abilities over willingness. We think our job rather than our family is our calling. Which is why it’s good to have heroes, but why we have to choose them with care.
