Why are we so awful to people on social media?

First, because we are so awful to people. We are so awful to people because we are awful people. Technology does not create fresh wickedness in us. It can, however, invite our wickedness out to play. Social media that seems to encourage the worst in us.

Some suggest that it is the social distance. We say things about and to others that we would never say about and to their faces. Shame often serves as a blessing when we are actually in the presence of others. This is one reason why pornography consumption has skyrocketed since the advent of the internet. Now you can get to it without having to look in the face of the clerk who knows how you’ll be using it.

Some suggest that it is the lack of non-verbal communication that would otherwise help to soften our discourse. Emojis are not up to the task of filling in that gap. In addition, when you are limited to 280 characters it’s tough to wrap your criticism in encouraging words. That in turn can create a response not smothered in grace and the flame war begins.

Some suggest the issue is the ease of reply. When I was a younger man and I got angry with someone and wanted to communicate it to them I had to first find paper and a pen. I had to write. Then I had to find an envelope, a stamp, and the address to which to send it. By then my jets had usually cooled. Now we can send off our thoughts before they’re even formulated.

While these suggestions have something to do with the problem, they miss what may be the most important point. Social media, in contrast to email or discussion boards, come equipped with voting mechanisms. Shares, likes, re-tweets all feed us where we are often most hungry, in the ego. Every post transforms into a referendum not just on the issue we post about but on us.

It’s not enough that I tell those closest to me about my disappointment with someone. Now I have to tell the whole world. It’s not enough that I tell the whole world about my disappointment with someone. I have to get them to share my disappointment. Which means I have to paint that someone not just as someone who let me down, but as someone the whole world needs to be warned about. I have to make this person out as a monster so your need to virtue-signal meshes with my need for social media approval. Soon enough I see myself as the heroic crusader against this movement, that person, or this other sin.

Here’s the tweet-sized version. We’re awful to each other on social media because we’re awful. We’re awful because we’re prideful, and, like our first parents, are not satisfied in Him. The solution is humility and rejoicing in all that we have in Christ. Moral indignation, more often than not, is just the veneer under which we try to hide our pride. But it always shines right through.

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Talkin’ ‘Bout My G-g-g-generation: Who Are We?

I pursued a graduate degree at Ole Miss and taught two classes of Freshman English each semester. The two intersected when I took a graduate class on teaching the freshman class. The popular pop guru gave fresh nuggets of his wisdom. He taught us not to make comments in red ink because it damaged the students’ self-esteem. He told us to encourage collaborative processes, though I can’t recall why. And he instructed us that when it came to interpreting the writings of others, a key component in the class as a whole, there was no right or wrong answer.

Makes sense, doesn’t it? If I find in this story of Saul Bellow’s a metaphor for the industrial revolution, and you find in the same story a clever modernization of Chaucer’s Abbott’s Tale, who is to say who is right? Which is the question I raised in the class I was taking. “If,” I asked, “there is no right and wrong answer, “on what basis are we handing out grades?” My professor, who apparently never read Animal Farm, without a hint of irony replied, “There is no correct answer, but some are more correct than others.”

Hermeneutics, outside the Christian world, has now sunk this low. Deconstructionism suggests we rightly understand a text only insofar as we condemn the politically incorrect notions of the author. While leftist, mean-spirited, and silly, at least it had the courtesy of treating the text with some respect. To tear the text to shreds one had to at least recognize it as a text, and to find handles in it. Even this process, however, has proven far too difficult and demanding for our day.

Deconstructionism has slowly been pushed out to make way for sundry forms post-modern theories wherein the text, before it is ripped to shreds, is robbed of the dignity of being a text. It has become for us a mere mirror. We deny that there is any meaning inherent in the text, seeing it as a blank sheet. Meaning comes from the reader rather than the writer. Thus, one of my professors giddily explained to us neophytes- “A laundry list is as much literature as Shakespeare.”

Wow. I’m afraid I didn’t have the courage to ask him these two questions- first, why do we then have to read Shakespeare? It’s a great deal more work than reading laundry lists, or comic books, or Danielle Steel novels. And second, how do you sleep at night knowing you have given your life to the study of laundry lists? I know the professor’s life has a great deal going for it, but is it worth it if none of it means a thing?

These theories, by their own admission, do not actually help us to understand the texts we are reading. This hermeneutic is not helpful if our goal is to understand what we read. They instead serve another purpose that apparently is more important to us- they focus our attention on ourselves. They serve our narcissism.

How cool is this, that in our Melville seminar we actually get to take turns talking about ourselves? Who cares what Melville thought? What I think is far more important. My knowledge does not increase, but my ego does. My understanding does not grow, but my self-importance does. My mind is not expanded, but my appetite for self-indulgence is. And all I have to give up is the notion that there really is something out there to know.

We have this kind of nonsense in the world because we first studied and read our Bibles in the same way. Christians treat the Bible, a mirror showing us our sin, as a mirror whereby we see our own wisdom. We open God’s Word to find out what it “means to us.” We use it to justify our own weaknesses and sins. We then encourage each other to do the same when we gather together. We sit in our Bible study circle and ask each other, “What does this text mean to you?” with soothing tones that communicate that of course there is no wrong answer.

This is one reason the First Corollary to the RC Sproul Jr. Principle of Hermeneutics (whenever you see someone in the Bible doing something really stupid, do not say to yourself, ‘How can they be so stupid?’ Instead say to yourself, ‘How am I just as stupid?’) is so important. The corollary goes like this- when you want to know who you are in any given Bible story, you are the sinner. If there is more than one sinner in the story, you are both.

If we are going to be thinking about ourselves when reading the Bible, or any text, let’s think about the kinds of people we are. Let’s be eager to see our sins, rather than to justify them.

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The Stinking Lesson of the Stinking Garbage Can

Experience is overrated. We often learn its lessons too late. Though once it has aged it can pack a punch. My father, about the time I entered into junior high school, impressed upon me the lesson experience taught him too late, but in time for me. As was his wont, he playfully prefaced his counsel with pomposity.

“Son,” he said, “I am about to present to you what I call ‘Patriarchal Principle Number One.”
“OK,” I replied with a smile. “What is Patriarchal Principle Number One?”
“You don’t have to live in a garbage can to know it stinks.”

While I still fear its import didn’t warrant a number one ranking among all possible patriarchal principles, it was most assuredly wisdom. It pushes back against the common “wisdom” that says, “I’ll try anything once.” Really? Anything? One thing I’ll never try is moving into a garbage can. I know of a guy that did so, but he never seemed happy about it. Come to think of it, he was always a grouch. It stinks in there.

God has designed His world so that we can benefit from the experience of others. We are given warnings from those in authority over us. When we can trust them, rather than insisting only our own experience can teach us, we can avoid a whole world of hurt.

There is no authority over us with deeper knowledge, who is more trustworthy than God Himself. The trouble is that we don’t trust Him. Like our first parents we tend to think God’s law, His instruction on how to live life, is a test for us. He wants our loyalty. He’s done so much for us, and so He asks us to set aside sundry pleasures to demonstrate our gratitude.

Were God to do such, we’d have no room to complain. But that is not the nature of His law. His law is not a burden but a gift. Obedience is not a sacrifice but an invitation to joy. He knows. He always knows. Every sin, no matter how small, at its root says to the loving God either, “You are stingy” or “You are wrong” before it says, “You don’t get to decide.” And then, every time, every single time, despite a lifetime of experience of the very same thing, we stub our toe. We burn our hand on the stove. We stick our fork in the socket.

The experience I need to learn from, more than any other, is not the destruction that flows from my sins, but the grace that flows from His blood. The joy of His forgiveness, the removal of the stone of guilt from my back, the welcoming arms of my heavenly Father, these are ever present realities that I too often lose sight of. Yet they are the very font of my own well-being.

God is good, gracious and kind to all His own. He pours out blessing on us unendingly. Alleluia.

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This Week’s Study, Trusting Like Children

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Today’s JCE- More Poetry from Lisa, Generation Gaps and More

This week’s Jesus Changes Everything Podcast

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Why We Need Reformation, Every Single Day

We must see our good deeds as the filthy rags they are.

It is easy enough to laugh at the folly of Tetzel. The crass salesman of indulgences that played such a vital role in the Reformation is something of a stock character- Elmer Gantry, a carnival barker and a traveling salesman all in one. We pride ourselves in our sophistication, thinking ourselves above being snookered like those rubes who wrote checks to get their lost loved ones out of purgatory more quickly. No, we pay for our own souls with our own good deeds.

Of course we confess with our lips that we are justified by faith alone. But in the dark recesses of our hearts we still tend to think He is pleased with us because we’re such fine fellows. We would never, like the Pharisee in Jesus’ story, boast in our tithing or our fasting. No, we boast in our giving and our feeding others. We boast of our theological acumen and our moral superiority. We boast of our ideological lineage and our signed copies of the books of the finest scholars. If you think you have no such boast, congratulations- you boast in your humility.

The Bible says our works are rubbish (Philippians 3: 8-9) and filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6). The trouble is, we already know that, and still don’t believe that. We are double minded, confessing what the Bible says while believing the lies our deceiving hearts tell us. Paul calls on us to throw our righteousness overboard that we might have the righteousness that comes by faith. He tells us this, I suspect, because we are prone to not do so.

How then do we get this biblical truth from our minds to our hearts? First, we stop boasting. When we find ourselves, whether speaking to others or to ourselves, cataloguing our great deeds, we should bring these verses to mind, realize that we while we think we’re showing off our trophies we’re actually airing our dirty laundry, perhaps we will stop. Perhaps we will blush.

Second, we will devote our minds to contemplating the perfection of Jesus. In John 13 we know Jesus is about to begin His passion. He is moments away from the greatest hardship any human has ever faced. And that, He determines, because of His love for the disciples, is the perfect time for Him to wash their feet, the perfect time to pray for them, the perfect time to give them a lesson in love. Somehow, in the face of that, that time I did my daily devotions 272 days in a row seems plenty small.

Third, we own His righteousness. The more we are persuaded that we are beloved of the Father the less likely we are to think we’re bringing something to the table. The more fully we grasp the riches that are already ours in Christ Jesus the less likely we are to break open our piggy bank of rags and rubbish.

Last, we repent. We repent for both our best works and for believing our best works are anything other than rags and rubbish. And we believe the gospel, and rejoice.

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Dinner and a Bible Study, Tonight: Trusting Like Children

We continue our weekly Monday night Bible study. We begin at 7:00. Local guests are invited for dinner at 6:15.

We air the study on Facebook Live (RC-Lisa Sproul). Within a day or two we post the video of the study right here for those who would like to watch on their own schedule.

We’d love to have you with us, in person if possible. Invite your friends. Our study considers God’s call that we be as children. Tonight- Trust

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What is the devil’s game? Lord of the Lies

We move too fast over God’s Word. I fear we skim lightly over the very voice of God, and so miss its thundering, reverberating tones. We are too hurried to allow the tension to build, the drama to heighten to just the right pitch. And so the fireworks fizzle. It might slow us down, it might help us enter into the story if we would enter into the telling of the story.

Imagine then that you’re in the desert. You’ve witnessed the all powerful hand of God Most High bring down your former master. He leads you to the Promised Land. You’re on the other side of the drama, a page turn away from “They all lived happily ever after.” As you sit with your family, free, Moses begins to tell your story’s beginning. He describes that power that freed you as it first freed the light from the nothingness. He explores not just the power of God, but His wisdom as God separates day from night, land from sea.

Moses paints the picture of God painting His garden, and setting His children therein. Eden has all the glory of the Promised Land. And you’re almost there. Moses sips from his wineskin and continues the story- Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the beasts of the field. Wait. What?! You’re jolted, alert, your attention laser focused. A cloud has passed over, chilling your bones. An owl in the distance hoots. All the portents have come out to play.

This changes everything. Would you rush on to the next verse, or would you stay a spell? What is this serpent, slippery, slithering into paradise? And what is his crafty craft? Therein lies the tail. The serpent’s goal is less crafty, more crass. He wars with God, seeking to topple Him from His throne. His seething hatred of God drives him to a seething hatred of man. He rages at the grandeur of the power of God’s Word, that has just fashioned the whole of the universe. So he speaks his lie to God’s truth.

His enemy, ultimately isn’t obedience. His weapon, ultimately, isn’t pleasure. Part of his craftiness is we think his strategy is to tempt us with illicit pleasures. But pleasure is God’s gift so even illicit pleasures are anemic evils. The great evil is when we fail to believe God.

The first temptation in the garden wasn’t the fruit. That, after all, would have eventually been given to Adam and Eve. Indeed the serpent didn’t begin his beguiling by talking up the fruit. Instead he began with a question- has God indeed said? The serpent invited Eve to do something truly evil, to doubt the truth of God’s Word. And so he has been doing ever since.

This is we call Satan the Father of Lies. Not that he lies a great deal. Not that he isn’t shy about lying. It is that lying is essential to what he is, part of parcel of his nature. It defines him. We must remember, however, that he is crafty. A crafty liar doesn’t tell us black is white, up is down, evil is good. That’s too ineffective a strategy. No, his craftiness is that he melds together just enough truth to get us to buy into the lie.

Satan means the accuser. He delights to remind us of the depth of our sin, to fill us with discouragement and doubt. His accusations hit their mark; they sting, precisely because they are true. The devil tells us we’re guilty of this, we’re tainted by that. He shows us the sins we’ve committed, reminding us of the terrible truth that we’re apt to commit them again. Here he fails to tell the truth not because he’s overstating his case, but because he’s understating it. He doesn’t know us well enough. We are far, far worse than he says.

He accuses not to get us to believe the truth that we’re guilty, but to believe the lie that we’re not forgiven. The unspoken lie, the one he so desperately tries to persuade us of is- God could never forgive and love someone as vile as you. The first premise is true – we’re wicked, wicked people. But the unspoken premise, that God could never love and forgive wicked, wicked people, is false, which leads us to the false conclusion, God could never love and forgive me. He doesn’t want us to doubt our guilt, but to doubt His grace.

The solution then to fighting the devil is less resolve not to fall into sensual sin, but resolve to believe God, beginning with His gospel promises to us. To embrace the totality and immutability of our forgiveness in Christ. We must rest in, give thanks for our adoption as His sons. As we rest in His grace He quenches the devil’s fiery darts.

How then can we believe? We begin by heeding what God says. When our diet is His Word, when we feast upon His promises in His book, our faith grows stronger. We read account after account in the Scripture of God rescuing His own, forgiving His own, delighting in His own. Thus we not only have no reason to fear the devil, but can laugh in his impudent face.

At His table we feel the weight of the accusations. As we behold His broken body and spilled blood we remember that we crucified the Lord of Glory. But we do not go to our Father’s table to be condemned but to be welcomed. We are the olive plants that adorn His table (Psalm 128). His table gives us a foretaste of eternity, an entrance into the marriage feast of the Lamb. He prepares a table for us in the presence of our enemy. There we see and taste all He promised. There he sees all that he’s lost. We rest; he rages.

With His first step out of the tomb, our Lord crushed the head of the serpent. For all of his bluster, all of his fury, the devil is defeated. He cowers in his bunker like Hitler as the allies descended on Berlin. He’s already dead; he just won’t admit it. The serpent is more crafty than any of the beasts of the field. He was a liar from the beginning. And he will lie to the end. Then however, through clenched teeth and bitter tears he will speak the truth with all of creation- Jesus Christ is Lord.

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The New Promised Land: Total World Conquest

Most of us, at one time or another, have found ourselves embarrassed by God. He who has all perfections perfectly doesn’t always fit into our scheme of things. The Holy One doesn’t always do things the way we who are altogether imperfect think they should be done.

We weep with Aaron as God destroys his two sons for merely toying with strange fire. Then we, who have been given a glimpse into the heavenly conversation between the devil and God, still sympathize with Job’s wife, cheering her on as she encourages her husband toward blasphemy. Many of us even shed a tear for the soldiers of Pharaoh as we watch the Red Sea crash down upon them. We nurse a secret grudge as we watch God destroy Uzzah, for touching the Ark of the Covenant.

Nothing, however, assaults our sensibilities more than the execution of God’s holy war against the people of Canaan. We tell our children about Joshua’s march around Jericho. We don’t tell them that every person in the city, men, women, and children, with the exception of Rahab’s family, were put to death. That is the pattern for the taking of the Promised Land, to kill every person there, to burn the cities to the ground. Joshua made Sherman’s march look like a picnic.

In Judges the sword of the Lord turns on the children of Israel. As the Benjamites shelter and defend the men of Gibeah, they in turn become as the Canaanites, and their city, and all that are in it, is burned to heaven. God judges swiftly, and He judges severely in this time of conquest.

Our temptation is to focus our attention on the New Testament. There we see no mass executions. There we see He who would not harm a bruised reed. We find a kinder, gentler vision of the Almighty in the tender grace of Jesus. Not a list of rules a mile long covering how we are to wash, what we may and may not eat, nor a detailed exposition of just how the stoning of the unfaithful is supposed to look.

Instead we find Jesus preaching to the multitudes, casting aside the “You have heard it saids…” and giving in its place an ethic of love. There we see His call that we be not mighty warriors like Joshua or Samson, but those who are poor in spirit. We are to be merciful, peacemakers. To be pure in heart. We summarize the message of Joshua as this, that we are to be warmongers, mean spirited and bloodthirsty. Now Jesus tells us we not only may, but must be nice.

He tells us if we succeed we’ll have heaven’s kingdom. If we stop boasting and instead mourn, we’ll be comforted. Should we hunger and thirst after righteousness, our desires will be met. If we will stop destroying the wicked, and show them mercy, we’ll receive mercy. Keep a pure heart, and we will see God. If we promise that we’re not going to learn war no more, and become peacemakers instead, we will be called the Sons of God. And if our unconditional love is rejected by men, and we are instead persecuted, again, we inherit the kingdom of heaven.

I skipped one. Jesus also calls us to be meek, hardly the picture we have of Joshua as he leads his troops into battle. But if we are meek, what do we receive? The meek shall inherit the earth. Here is perhaps the biggest change, and the greatest similarity. The similarity is that like the children of Israel, we too have a promise of a promised land. The difference is that our promise is not limited to a small strip of land in the Middle East. We’re going to inherit that entire world. All of it has been promised to us.

Of course this too has changed, that the weapons of our warfare are not carnal. The only sword we carry into battle is the sword of the Word, the gospel of the kingdom. But this too is the more shocking. We are not merely cutting down the bodies of pagans; we are, in the Holy Spirit, ripping their hearts of stone out of their chests, and replacing them with hearts of flesh. We are not merely removing the pagans; we are remaking them, just as we have been remade.

What hasn’t changed is that we are at war. It began in Genesis 3. There God promised He would put enmity between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent. That was His declaration of war, the institution of God’s regenerative draft. He put the enmity there, moving the woman, and her seed from the forces of darkness to the forces of light, enlisting them through His effectual call. The war will continue until our Captain, the true Joshua, puts all things under His feet.

That is the greatest change. We are no longer fighting in ourselves. If we were, there would be nothing but defeat. But in Christ we are poor in Spirit. In Him we are rich in the Spirit, who indwells us. In Christ we do mourn. In Him we rejoice, for He has overcome the world. In Christ we are meek, and in His meekness we inherit His reward, the entire world. In Christ we are bold and strong, for He is with us wherever we go. And when that great and final day comes, in Christ we will be pure in heart, and so we shall see God.

Today He sees us. We live our lives in this context of warfare, coram Deo, before the face of God. He is watching us, guiding us, directing us. And so we are called to be more than conquerors, greater than Joshua. We are not looking for a place at the world’s table. Nor are we looking to merely keep the world from crashing down around us. We are fighting for our God given right to the world.

Our calling is to total world conquest, beneath His gaze, under His authority, and unto His glory. And we, in Him, shall have it, for the King has come, and He will come again.

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Rebels Without a Cause: In Submission to the King

It was Marx who argued that, rather than man shaping economic realities, it was the economic realities that shape man. Despite his manifold and manifest follies, he had something of a point here. Wouldn’t hard times give rise to strong willed and stiff backed men? Wouldn’t economic blessing tempt us to softness? Might this be why Agur cries out in Proverbs 30 “Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is needful for me, lest I be full and deny you and say, ‘Who is the Lord? Or lest I be poor and steal and profane the name of my God” (verses 8-9).

The greatest generation, who made so many sacrifices during World War II, was raised in the Great Depression. And the post-war prosperity of the next generation would give rise to whining hippies.

The nature of colonization and westward expansion in our early history would naturally create, or attract, a peculiar mindset. Those content to collect a paycheck pushing papers or stamping out widgets need not apply. American individualism didn’t arrive out of the American experience de nova. Rather it sprang from the hard scrabble of the frontier and the prairie. It was forged in the cold of tundra winters. Uncharted territory never opens wide before the effete, but challenges the hearts of men.

That economic reality in turn shaped the artistic reality, America as a nation of lone wolves. James Fennimore Cooper brought us the Leatherstocking Tales, a collection of novels about a frontier hero. Natty Bumpo was Daniel Boone before Daniel Boone. He lived off the land, did right by his neighbors, but aspired mostly to be left alone. Mark Twain continued the same pattern as Huck Finn’s adventures begin as he heads west to make his mark. That Holden Caufield inhabits the city and spends his sophomoric days there whining doesn’t change that he too is the lone wolf, alone, with no body to catch the body falling through the rye.

Of course, truth be told, we have by now virtually run out of frontiers. In turn we aren’t exactly overrun with opportunities for vision quest, for soul-shaping heroism. But that doesn’t mean we have run out of rebels. Marlon Brando at one point virtually owned the franchise. Stanley Kowalski, of the torn t-shirt, may have been torn between two women in A Streetcar Named Desire, but he was yet a man on his own. He defied convention, in the pursuit of all that his heart longed for.

In The Wild Ones Brando played the leader of a motorcycle gang. They blow into a small town, and while at a bar Brando’s character is asked, “Johnny, what are you rebelling against?” With his trademark sneer Brando replies, “Whaddya got?” James Dean would later be but a pale imitation.

The pattern is only now beginning to fade, but for all the wrong reasons. The modern world is regimented, a well-oiled machine. Naturally the hero longs to escape such a prison, to rebel not against nothing, but against everything. But in the postmodern world, the only answer we can give Johnny is, “Nothing.” The only prison the would-be rebel must escape is the inescapable reality that there are no prisons. There are no laws to break in a lawless culture, no taboos to transcend when the only taboo is to hold onto taboos.

Now all we have left is the aching desire to be seen, to get on camera. We no longer are a nation of rebels, but a nation of exhibitionists and voyeurs, whether we appear on TikTok or some hot-for-the-moment reality TV show.

In the Matrix movies, Neo, the new man, had to discover that he wasn’t in a postmodern world, but still just a cog in a machine, so that he could in turn set himself, and others free. He had to discover that there actually was a reality before he could break free of it. And once free, they would be right back where we’re starting from.

Which is why we must be careful. How easy it is to feed ourselves on these images from the world, as an inspiration to rebel against the world around us. We’re rebels with a cause. Sadly we are more excited about being rebels than about the cause. We are Jesus Freaks more interested in being freaks than in Jesus. How worldly we are when we boldly, like any hero from Bumpo to Neo, stand against the world’s tide, so that we can be heroes.

When we do such we are not only not swimming upstream, but are being tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine. When we boldly bring forth a new paradigm, or boldly fight for the old paradigm, I’m afraid we too often are looking at ourselves in the mirror to see how bold we look.

To be counter-cultural it isn’t enough to fight the culture with the culture’s tools. We must instead fight the culture as Jesus would have us do. We are called, though one can hardly expect to receive garlands and have folk songs written about those who do such, to live in peace and quietness with all men, as much as is possible. To be counter-cultural is to stop worrying about how we look, and to start worrying about how we obey. Our hero must be He who obeyed His Father, even to death on the cross.

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