Kingdom Come

I preached this sermon on August 21, 2016, at Patterson Park Church in Beavercreek, Ohio. This was the last sermon in our year-long series on the Book of Acts.

How many of you can tell me the date this picture was taken?

The photograph, taken by Robert F. Sargent, on June 6, 1944, is entitled “Into the Jaws of Death.”  It shows an assault craft landing in one of the first waves at Omaha Beach.

This was not just another amphibious assault. This was the largest seaborne assault in history. It involved eight different navies and almost 7000 vessels, and nearly 160,000 troops. More than 4000 of those men died on that first day.

Although no one could be sure of it at the time, that massive military operation turned out to be a defining moment in the war. Once the Allies had established a foothold in Normandy, the war in the European theater had turned the corner. There would be many more battles, but the eventual outcome of the war – the Allied victory over Nazi Germany – began to come into focus in the months that followed that awful June morning.

There was, in other words, a “now but not yet” sense about the landing at Normandy. In one sense, the war ended that day as the Allies now began their long drive toward Germany. In another sense, the end of the war was “not yet” as there were many more battles to fight before the end of the conflict. 

This week we’re concluding our series on the Book of Acts, Luke’s account of the earliest days of the church. We’ll see that Luke both opens and closes his narrative by highlighting an essential New Testament theme: that the Kingdom of God had invaded human history in the person and work of Jesus. And we’ll see that with the coming of Jesus the Kingdom of God became both “now” and “not yet.”  

pray

The word “kingdom” appears more than 150 times in the New Testament. It is a theme that resonates from the opening pages.

From the very beginning of his ministry Jesus preached about the Kingdom of God. But almost everyone misunderstood what he meant. They envisioned a popular uprising that would expel the hated Romans from the Holy Land.

But Jesus had an altogether different kind of Kingdom in mind. And this is what brought him into such sharp disagreement with his enemies. What especially infuriated them was that Jesus insisted that all of God’s promises had come true in him, that it was in him that the Kingdom of God had finally invaded human history.

The conflict between Jesus and his enemies grew so intense that they eventually persuaded the Roman governor to execute Jesus as a rebel. But then, to everyone’s surprise, Jesus was crowned king – not in an elaborate ceremony but, even better, by rising from the dead.

The Book of Acts tells the story of the first thirty years of the church. How could a band of a few dozen followers of Jesus plant churches throughout the Mediterranean basin and see their numbers grow from ten dozen to untold thousands in just three decades?

As we read Luke’s account, we see a people compelled by an unshakeable knowledge that God had changed the trajectory of history in the coming of Jesus. The early church seemed to possess a “now but not yet” understanding of the Kingdom.

·       They knew that the Kingdom had come in Christ

o   His rule had been inaugurated in his Resurrection from the dead.

o   They knew that Jesus had ushered in a new age, and things would never the same again.

·       But they also knew that the day when all things would be made right was still in the future.

The NT writers understood that the coming of Jesus had ushered in a new age, the Messianic Age. They knew that the Kingdom of God had finally come on earth. Yet they also understood that the consummation of all things, the day when all things would be made right, was still in the future. The old order is still in place, but the Kingdom of God has broken into human history in Christ.  

This understanding of the “now but not yet” nature of the Kingdom lies behind Luke’s account of the early days of the church. Luke tells us that in the days following his resurrection, Jesus and his disciples spent forty days together. Guess what Jesus and his disciples talked about during those six weeks!

Let’s look back at Acts 1, verse 3.

[Jesus] presented himself alive to them after his suffering by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God.   (Acts 1:3, ESV)

Given what we know about the kingdom ideas floating around in those days, it should come as no surprise that his disciples get the wrong idea.

Look at their very reasonable question in verse six:

So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?”  (Acts 1:6, ESV)

Who could blame them for misunderstanding Jesus’ kingdom-talk? Jesus has demonstrated his supreme power by not just healing sick people, not just by exercising his power over the demonic realm, and not even by raising people from the dead: Jesus has risen from the dead himself. Now, they think, Jesus is ready to claim his rightful place as king of Israel and restore Jewish independence.

Watch Jesus’ answer. First he gently rebukes them, then he answers their question, but not in the way they expect:

Read with me beginning in verse 7:

It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” (Acts 1:7-8, ESV)  

And in those few words Jesus outlines the story of the first three decades of the early church as the Kingdom of God broke into the first century Mediterranean world.

Luke tells us that ten days later the Spirit is poured out on ten dozen Jesus-followers, and the rest of the Luke’s narrative shows us what happens when a handful of people are motivated by a Spirit-infused Kingdom mindset.

The first half of the book focuses on the church in Jerusalem, with Peter leading the church. Largely due to a violent outbreak of persecution in Jerusalem, Christ-followers are scattered throughout the region. Wherever they go they are proclaiming the arrival of the Kingdom, and churches are planted throughout Judea, Samaria, and the rest of Palestine.

Beginning with chapter 13, the focus shifts to a Gentile congregation in Antioch. God’s Spirit leads that congregation to send their two most mature leaders – Barnabas, who had come from Jerusalem, and the brilliant and gifted evangelist Saul of Tarsus – on a church-planting mission. Saul changes his Hebrew name to the Greek “Paul,” and goes on to proclaim the Kingdom throughout the province of Asia Minor and crossing over to Greece.

And wherever the Good News about King Jesus would go, we would find a familiar pattern:

1.    People responded in faith, and the church grew.

2.    There were often spectacular miracles accompanying the proclamation of the Kingdom, foreshadowing the “not yet” day when all things will finally be made right.

3.    There was always conflict with the kingdoms of this world

a.     Sometimes with civil and religious authorities

b.    Sometimes economic interests

c.     Sometimes demonic forces

Which brings us to the last two chapters in Luke’s account, where Paul finally realizes his life-long ambition of proclaiming the Kingdom in what was then the capital of the world, Rome itself.

No one knows who planted the first church in Rome. It wasn’t Paul. He wrote a famous letter to the believers there, telling them that he wanted to visit them and that he wanted them to send him on to what was then the edge of the known world: Spain. And at a particularly low moment after his arrest in Jerusalem, God had come to him and promised that he would reach the imperial city.

And now, in the final chapter of Luke’s account, after his arrest in Jerusalem, after years of confinement in Roman custody, after a spectacular shipwreck, Paul finally realizes his life-long dream, and he is thrilled.

And it’s not just Paul who is thrilled that he is finally making it to Rome. Remember that he had written a letter to the believers there. Now they literally give Paul a royal welcome. (And, yes, I do know what “literally” means.)

Read with me beginning at the end of the fourteenth verse of Acts 28.

And so we came to Rome. And the brothers there, when they heard about us, came as far as the Forum of Appius and Three Taverns to meet us. On seeing them, Paul thanked God and took courage. And when we came into Rome, Paul was allowed to stay by himself, with the soldier who guarded him. (Acts 28:14b-16, ESV)

When an emperor returned to the city, it was customary for the citizens to go out en masse to meet him and escort him in a hero’s welcome home. After all Paul has been through in city after city, after his arrest in Jerusalem and the many hearings before Jewish and Roman authorities, after his near-death experience in the shipwreck, imagine how Paul felt when, while he and his Roman escort were still thirty miles from Rome, Paul looks up and sees a large group of his brothers and sisters in Christ coming out to meet him. Luke tells us that Paul thanked God and took courage.

It was always Paul’s custom, whenever he arrived in a new city, to first visit the Jewish synagogue. Paul had a great fondness for his Jewish brothers and always wished that they would recognize Jesus as their King. Now, under house arrest in Rome, Paul cannot go to the synagogue, so he asks that the leaders of the Jewish community come to him.

Luke has recorded for us many of Paul’s presentations to many different kinds of audiences. Now he tells us of one more, Paul’s appeal to the Jews of Rome. Notice the two main points of Paul’s presentation. Read with me beginning in verse 23:

When they had appointed a day for him, they came to him at his lodging in greater numbers. From morning till evening he expounded to them, testifying to the kingdom of God and trying to convince them about Jesus both from the Law of Moses and from the Prophets.  (Acts 28:23, ESV)

Luke is summarizing here, because Paul talked to them all day, “from morning till evening.” Did you notice what he talked about for all those hours? He was “testifying to the kingdom of God and trying to convince them about Jesus both from the Law of Moses and from the Prophets.” 

Here in the heart of the imperial city itself, Paul is declaring that the Kingdom of God has come in Jesus. And he is using the Scriptures to help his Jewish brothers understand, by laying out the prophecies about the long-awaited Messiah-King and showing how Jesus fulfilled those prophecies.

As Paul has seen in city after city, now he gets a mixed response from the Jewish leaders in Rome. Luke tells us that Paul’s hearers disagreed among themselves.

Their reaction prompts Paul to reach back to the writings of the prophet Isaiah. Paul tells his hearers that they are responding the same way Isaiah’s contemporaries did. Read with me beginning in verse 25:

“The Holy Spirit was right in saying to your fathers through Isaiah the prophet:

“‘Go to this people, and say,

“You will indeed hear but never understand,

    and you will indeed see but never perceive.”

For this people's heart has grown dull,

    and with their ears they can barely hear,

    and their eyes they have closed;

lest they should see with their eyes

    and hear with their ears

and understand with their heart

    and turn, and I would heal them.’

Therefore let it be known to you that this salvation of God has been sent to the Gentiles; they will listen.”  ( Acts 28:25-28, ESV)

I heard a story once about a man who was speaking about Jesus to a group of skeptical college students. When he got to the end of his presentations, they went to a question and answer session. The skeptical students shot question after question to the Christian, not giving him a chance to answer one question before they would pelt him with another.

Finally, the Christian stopped and asked them, “If I were to prove to you conclusively that Jesus was who he said he was, would you believe in him then?”

His audience scoffed and told him no, they wouldn’t believe in Jesus. The Christian responded, “Then we are finished here. There is no point in going on.” Their inability to understand the Good News about Jesus wasn’t rooted in ignorance or misunderstanding; their hearts were hard.

That’s what Paul is sensing here in some of his audience. The Scriptures Paul utters here are from the sixth chapter of Isaiah, where we read of the vision in which Isaiah received his commission to speak for God to His people.

God was telling Isaiah before he even began his ministry that His people would not listen to him. They would hear but never perceive; they were unable to see because they were willfully blind.

Now Paul tells the unbelieving Jews of Rome that they were responding to a new word from God the same way their ancestors had responded to Isaiah: their hard hearts kept them from hearing. They had rejected their King.

From time to time in Luke’s account, he will give a summary statement before moving on to the next section. Here Luke gives us his final summary statement, but it is odd. It provides the conclusion for this last episode, but there is no conclusion to the book as a whole. Read with me in verse 30, where he tells us that Paul

…lived there two whole years at his own expense, and welcomed all who came to him, proclaiming the kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness and without hindrance.  (Acts 28:30-31, ESV)

Scholars don’t really know what to make of this abrupt ending. If Luke knew that Paul’s imprisonment ended after two years, he must have known how it ended. But he doesn’t tell us. Was Paul tried, found guilty by the imperial court, and executed? Or was he released at the end of those two years? No one knows for sure.

By suspending the narrative this way, it is almost as if Luke wanted to tell us that his story is not complete. This proclamation of the arrival of the Kingdom that began in Jerusalem and Judea continued in Antioch and Asia Minor, and now it has reached the very heart of the empire. It’s as if Luke laid down his pen, intending to come back to continue the story, but never got around to it.

We know how the story goes on from there. The news of the Kingdom would spread throughout the empire, throughout northern Africa, all the way to Britain in the west, and beyond the empire to India in the east. The news of the Kingdom has, in fact, spread all over the world, all the way to Beavercreek, Ohio, where there is an outpost of the Kingdom known as Patterson Park Church.   

Which brings us to our familiar question: So what? We’ve seen how a Spirit-infused Kingdom mindset prompted those early believers to turn their world upside down. What does a Spirit-infused Kingdom mindset look like in 21^st century North America, in Beavercreek, Ohio?

I’d like to use three quotations to answer that question.

First: “The next Billy Graham might be drunk right now.” This is from Russell Moore, president of the Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission.

He’s right, you know. “The next Billy Graham might be drunk right now.” We should never let stereotyping or profiling limit our understanding of what God might be doing in the world.

Just think how shocked and amazed those early Jerusalem Christians must have been when they saw how things turned out. They were thrilled to understand that the long-awaited Kingdom of God had arrived in Jesus, and at the beginning they expected the Jews in the Holy City to respond in faith and obedience and join them, as many thousands of them did.

But then things just didn’t turn out the way they expected.

·       They experienced brutal persecution at the hands of a fiery young Pharisee named Saul.

·       Then they heard that Saul had himself become a Christ-follower.

·       Then they heard that no less than the Apostle Peter himself had gone into the home of an unconverted Gentile, a Roman officer, and now that officer and his family were part of their fellowship.

·       Next thing they know, Saul is teaching that Gentiles who join the church don’t have to submit to the laws of Moses. Will the outrages never end?

None of that was in the script for those early Jerusalem Christians.

A Kingdom mindset means that we don’t dictate to God how He is to rule in His Kingdom. The early church learned the hard way that God was going to build His church in ways that could never have expected.

Second: "The weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh."

Think of Paul sitting in that rented house in Rome. From one point of view, he was helpless. The empire had all the power and advantages. He was chained at the wrist to a Roman soldier 24/7. The imperial court that will hear his case has the power to condemn him to death or to set him free.

And to make matters worse, Paul is talking about a Kingdom, here in the heart of the empire. What power did that Kingdom possess? What authority? From one point of view, none.

And yet, Paul knew that the power that directed his life, the power that animated the church, wasn’t military or economic or political or even cultural. Paul knew that the weapons of God’s Kingdom are of a different sort, and far more powerful.

Brothers and sisters, as we observe our own culture descending into madness, let’s not panic. Let’s not imagine that our loss of cultural and political influence has somehow set back the agenda of God’s Kingdom. Let us not fear that our bizarre political situation or our prospects for Supreme Court nominations or the identity of the man or woman who is the next occupant of the White House – or even that all of these developments together – can set thwart the purposes of God and His Kingdom.

The weapons of our warfare are not physical; they are spiritual, and they are potent. And God’s Kingdom will prevail, regardless of who sits in the White House or who sits on the Supreme Court or which party controls Congress.

Don’t misunderstand. Yes, we should vote. But not out of fear or in desperation. We should vote out of love for our neighbor and a desire for a just and compassionate social order. But we should not cast our vote in fear; the King is on His throne.

Third, the word that the angels almost always had to say first: "Fear not."

Let me show you what I mean. I’m going to show you a statement would have been obvious and self-evident to Paul and Luke and anyone else living in the first century.

The Roman empire is the greatest nation the world has ever known.

That was blindingly obvious to anyone living in the Mediterranean basin in the first century. And yet that statement is no longer true. That empire, like all earthly kingdoms, eventually fell. But the Kingdom of God has marched on, throughout the world.

There would have been a time when this next statement would have been terrifyingly and depressingly true, and surely this thought crossed the minds of those tens of thousands of Allied troops as they stormed the beaches of Normandy: The Nazi military is the greatest army the world has ever known. And yet that statement also is no longer true. But the army of God’s church continues to march through history.

And as much as we love our country, we must admit to ourselves that this statement, as obvious and self-evident as it is now, will not always be true: The United States of America is the richest and most powerful nation on earth.  And yet, when all of the history and accomplishments of our great nation are in the rear-view mirror, of interest only to historians, the Kingdom of God will just be getting started.

Don’t be afraid. Someone said once that Christians don’t need to be afraid because theirs is the only God who has ever fought his way out of the grave. The King has come, and he has conquered, so we can look forward with confidence to the day when He will finally make all things right.

As we close our study of the Book of Acts, let’s recall our question: What is the mission of the church? Our task is to proclaim that the Kingdom of God has come, in Christ the King.

Story of the HallelujahChorus Flash-mob.

·       Big mall in Philadelphia

·       Christmas season

·       Organist at a pipe organ performing a mini-concert while shoppers mill about

·       Then he plays the opening measures of Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus”

·       People stop, some stand, almost everyone begins to sing

·       Unknown to them, 300 vocalists of the Opera Company of Philadelphia have infiltrated the throng

Tears came to my eyes as I watched this video again yesterday. Yes, it was a beautiful moment. The music was stunning, and the look of ecstasy on the faces of those shoppers was delightful. But I also thought of the many people who were there that day who loved the experience of the musical moment but never gave the words a second thought.

I thought especially of the lyrics, taken from the last book of the Bible. They all sang, “The Kingdoms of the world have become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ.” Were those just musical syllables? Could it possibly be that someone could hear and even sing those lines and still be blind and deaf to the proclamation of Christ’s Kingdom?

I close with a sober warning, from the pen of CS Lewis:

If you have not chosen the Kingdom of God, it will make in the end no

difference what you have chosen instead. Will it really make a difference whether it was women or patriotism, cocaine or art… money or science? Well, surely no difference that matters. We shall have missed the end for which we are formed and rejected the only thing that satisfies. Does it matter to a man dying in a desert by which choice of route he missed the only well?

After I pray and we sing our closing song, I’ll be here at the front if you want to talk or pray or ask any questions.

Let’s pray.

When Is a Movie "Bad"?

I recently taught a class at my high school on worldviews and film. We were, I told them, exploring the intersection of worldview and pop culture. We viewed and discussed films like The Truman Show, Signs, Doubt, Chariots of Fire, and Walter Mitty.

What we all had in common -- me and my students -- was a love of movies. They loved the discussions of the aesthetics of film-making: character development, cinematography, pacing, storyline. And I tried to push them to think deeply about what each film "teaches" about life, about God, human nature, the purpose and meaning of life, ethics.

After a few days of viewing and discussing films, we stopped one day to discuss the selection of films from a moral perspective. When is it "wrong" for a Christian to watch a particular film?

Here's what I told them that day.

1. We don't get much specific guidance either from Scripture or from the ratings system. 

The ratings system, of course, is a notoriously blunt instrument. It would be easy  -- and simplistic -- to declare that no Christian should ever view an R-rated film, but that would eliminate some truly great stories such as The Passion of the Christ, The Matrix, The Book of Eli, Saving Private Ryan, and Last of the Mohicans. Films like these are rated R for good reason, but the factors that earn that rating are never gratuitous (think Saw); some stories could never be properly told in a PG world.

Besides, there are many PG-rated films that are so crude and obvious that the best that could be said for them is that they are a waste of time and money. Ratings can provide a valuable guide, one I use myself, but it is only one guide, and not a very precise one.

As for Scripture, there are general guidelines. We know we should guard our heart, "for out of it are the issues of life," says the proverb. We should never take pleasure in cruelty, and lustful thoughts are tantamount to adultery. This much we know, and these broad principles are useful in guiding our choices in what we consume in pop culture.

But God's Word doesn't provide specific guidance on every moral issue for every cultural situation for all times. It simply couldn't. Think how long and how detailed the Bible would have to be to provide that kind of specific guidance. And think how much of the Bible would be irrelevant to most of us: most of us would never face most of the cultural situations such a Bible would address.

This is one of the reasons God has given us His Spirit, to "guide us into all truth," including moral truth. God's Spirit, His Holy Spirit, resides within us to guide and focus our conscience in matters that lie beyond the plain teaching of Scripture.

2. Since neither ratings nor Scripture provide specific guidance, each believer must work out these questions on his or her own. 

I reminded my students that in this area, while they are living at home, their parents' guidance must predominate. Even if they disagree with their parents' views, they are obligated by Scripture (which is precise on this point) to obey their parents now and honor them for the rest of their lives. With our own children, as they grew older we gave them more and more leeway in making choices about the movies they would watch when they were with their friends. We knew that they needed to develop the ability to make those discerning choices, and they needed to be able to handle the dynamic of dealing with friends who sometimes make bad choices.

However, everyone in my classroom knew that the day would soon come when they would be making these -- and many other -- moral decisions on their own. And since this ultimately boils down to the individual conscience and leading of Spirit in each believer, I cannot provide final and specific guidance on this question. But I can tell them how I make moral judgments about film.

I told them I try remember two things in my selection of films:

A. I must remember what my triggers are. 

We know the three main components of movie story-telling that can be objectionable: language, sex, and violence. Not all three trouble me at the same level.

It's not as if cursing and violence don't bother me, they do. But sometimes strong language and violence are essential components of the storyline. Just imagine a PG-rated Saving Private Ryan. It wouldn't be the same story. War stories often involve uncomfortable levels of swearing and violence. If I want to watch a movie that seriously considers the matters involved in war, I've got to be prepared to tolerate a certain uncomfortable level of language and violence.

But language and violence don't bother me the way steamy love scenes do. I just can't let my imagination go there. I still recall some of the troubling images from the last battle scene in Private Ryan, but those don't trouble me the way a steamy love scene would.

Years ago a friend asked me about a film he and his wife were considering. He heard that my wife and I had seen Room with a View, a 1985 film based on the EM Forster novel. My friend asked if there was anything objectionable in the film.

Knowing my friend and his wife, I tried to recall what my wife and I had seen. The only thing I could recall was the scene in which the young English woman had witnessed a street fight that appears to have resulted in the death of one of the combatants. I told him about that scene.

What I had forgotten about and what offended him and his wife so deeply that they left the theater in the middle of the film was the skinny-dipping scene. Two young men are taking a hike through the woods with the village priest. They persuade him to take a dip in the pond, sans clothing. There are brief glimpses of male nudity, but that didn't leave a strong impression on my mind.

My friend, of course, was furious with me for not warning him about that scene. I thought later about why I hadn't remembered it when he asked me about the film. I realized that if it had been a female skinny-dipping scene, I would not have forgotten it. In fact, I would have had difficulty forgetting a female skinny-dipping scene.

I must remember what my triggers are. Paul told the Romans that it is wrong for a believer to violate his or her own conscience: "If anyone regards something as unclean, then for him it is unclean" (Romans 14:14). This means that in a room full of Christians, the same movie scene might be permissible for some to watch and impermissible for others. Some would have to abstain for the sake of their own conscience or abstain out of kindness to their brothers and sisters in Christ, while others could enjoy the same scene without troubling their conscience.

Which brings us to the second thing I must remember...

B. I must remember that I can so easily lie to myself, especially about matters of right and wrong. 

It would be easy to tell myself, as I see a scene moving toward a steamy encounter, all kinds of lies.

This is no big deal, Paul. You're over-reacting. 

Other Christians aren't troubled by this sort of thing. Why does it bother you so much?

It will be over in just a moment. Just don't watch. (Right.)

This is the great risk we all face in acknowledging that on some moral questions -- like the choices we make in what we consume in pop culture -- we can convince ourselves that it is permissible to violate our conscience. Since all the action is interior, since there is literally no public accountability for the inner workings of our minds, we can easily find ourselves in a morally compromising situation, we can injure our conscience, and -- most disturbing -- offend God's Spirit, who has taken up residence in our bodies and minds.

One more thing about lying to ourselves. I haven't yet mentioned the role that community can play in this process, and I didn't think of it that day when I talked to my students. One of the great things about marriage in particular and Christian community in general is the ability of our spouses and our friends to point out when we are lying to ourselves. I value my wife's input on these matters; she can tell when I'm talking myself into a compromising situation. And I'm glad to say that she's not afraid to call me out when she sees me lying to myself.

This is one of the reasons we need Christian community. We need Christian brothers and sisters who are close enough to us to know when we are violating our own standards and honest and courageous enough to say so.


This is what I told my students that day. I do use the ratings as a guide. But ratings can provide only rough and general guidance.

And I try always to keep before my mind two important thoughts: I know my triggers, and I know I can lie to myself.

In the selection of movies -- and music, and books, and all sorts of input into our mind and imagination -- we must, as Paul told the believers in Thessalonica, "test all things, hold fast to that which is good."

There are a lot of good movies out there among the truly bad ones. In our conscience, in Christian community, in the general moral principles of Scripture, and specially in the Presence of His Spirit, God has given us the resources to make sound moral judgments about even private matters.

Three Teen Boys, Francis Schaeffer, and Why I Teach

I've taught high school for almost forty years. Most days I relish the opportunity to be involved with young men and women at this crucial stage in their lives, when they are working through the most important questions they'll ever have to answer. There are days when I think maybe this is a young man's game, and I should get out. But not most days. Most days this is good work, a good reason to get up in the morning and come to work.

Then there are days like the ones I had last week, when I realize how incredibly lucky I am to be a teacher. One of my most flighty, distracted students (let's call him Fred) came blowing into class the other day asking if I'd ever heard of Francis Schaeffer. (Have I heard of Francis Schaeffer? Reading his complete works is on my bucket list. I'm about half done.) But Fred asking about Schaeffer? This was completely new.

Another teacher had said something about space and time and Francis Schaeffer, and Fred wanted to know more about him. I took him straight to the my bookshelf, where I found the book I thought would answer his questions (Genesis in Space and Time). He checked it out from my library and ignored me for the rest of the period. And I didn't mind. Fred was reading Francis Schaeffer.

Before the end of the period, Noah, a friend of his, brought the book up to my desk to show me a passage and ask me a question. Bonus! Fred was not just interacting with Schaeffer, he was evangelizing, spreading the good news about what the old man had to say. Noah showed me the passage and asked me whether I thought Adam went to hell.

Don't know about Adam and hell, but I do know that I thought it was beyond wonderful that two of my boys were wrestling with Francis Schaeffer.


A couple of days later, Brendon, another student, was standing at his locker down the hall from my classroom. He wanted to show me a cool quote from a book. (Ironically, it was the same book by Schaeffer.)  He too had checked out a copy from my classroom library. He showed me the paragraph, and he was right: it was cool. It was even cooler that he thought so and wanted to share his discovery with me.

I've had Schaeffer on my classroom shelves for years, mostly ignored by my students (who have to select a book to read every quarter). I know, Schaeffer's syntax can be a little Yoda-like, and his sentences can be very long. Still, if anyone was willing to struggle with it, there's so much good thought there.

And now three of my high school seniors. Three teenage boys reading Schaeffer and actually enjoying it! That may be one of the best things I've ever done for those boys, introducing them to Francis Schaeffer.

And I actually get paid to do this! Amazing!

How Neck Pain Taught Me to Pray

No, it's not what you think. It's not just that the pain got so bad I had to learn to pray earnestly and fervently. That would be a good story, but this story is stranger than that. And far more wonderful.

Years ago I learned an ancient prayer used by Eastern Orthodox Christians. The Jesus Prayer is the essence of simplicity. The version I learned, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me," is a prayer that can be recited or sung repetitively, a way of "praying without ceasing." I learned a tune to sing the prayer from an old film on the life of John Hus. As he was burned at the stake for his Reformation views, he died singing, perhaps (at least in the movie version) singing this ancient prayer. So the movie version of John Hus taught me to sing the Jesus Prayer.

A couple of years ago my neck started hurting. I went to physical therapy. My therapist not only manipulated my back and neck but also taught me exercises that would help stretch the muscles which were causing my neck pain. Ten seconds in the position, thirty in that. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I recently discussed my neck/back pain with a doctor friend who was on a mission trip with me. He told me that I would probably have to live with the discomfort, that I needed to think of this disorder in terms of pain management. He suggested that the best remedies short of surgery are the stretches and analgesics I am already using.

Lately, I've begun incorporating the Jesus Prayer into my stretches. Instead of counting seconds, I sing the Jesus Prayer; three times for one stretching exercise, more for some of the others. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Miracle cure? No. Neck and back still hurt from time to time. But this discomfort now has a different meaning in my life. The pain prompts me to pray, and that's good in a way that I never expected.

Our First Christmas Since It Happened

My father-in-law passed away in June. He was the first of our four parents to die. My wife and I have now entered a dark place we've never known before, joined a Great Sad Tribe of friends whose parents are gone.

I usually start playing Christmas music as soon as the World Series is over. Early, I know, for some, but it's such rich, beautiful music I always want to enjoy it sooner rather than later. 

But this year I wondered if I would enjoy Christmas music. I knew that this first Christmas since Nanette's dad passed away would be bittersweet. We miss him terribly. The pain never really goes away. Would the music just be too sad?

I was surprised. I actually am enjoying the music more this year. Somehow the lyrics -- which I've always loved, not just the familiar tunes -- the lyrics are richer and more wonderful than ever:

"No more let sin and sorrows grow, nor thorns infest the ground..."

"Repeat the sounding joy..."

And the lyric that resounds more beautifully than ever: "tidings of comfort and joy"

I've always believed that the long, sad history of the world turned a corner in the birth of Jesus. I still believe it, but now it's more personal. And I'm so very glad.

Thoughtful Conservatism

This post was originally published at OhioConservativeReview.com. 

I teach a high school course on current social problems. I like to joke that my students begin the course thinking that dandruff and halitosis are social problems, and I try to expand their understanding to include the familiar list of controversies: immigration, gun control, abortion, the death penalty… issues well-known to most culturally-aware adults but only vaguely familiar to most high school kids.

They don’t know what “conservative” and “liberal” mean unless they listen to talk radio, in which case they know that “liberal” is bad and “conservative” is good, but they’re not exactly sure why.

The two words are intriguing in their own right. Their elasticity must be confusing to anyone learning English. Liberal arts colleges have no counterpart in “conservative arts” colleges. You can spread jam liberally but not conservatively. We conserve resources, but we don’t liberate them.

Still, the term “conservative” reveals a great deal about the ideology it portrays. After all, we conservatives strive to conserve something we deem valuable. We believe there are traditions and values that are precious and can be neglected only at great peril. We look to the great Western cultural tradition and the rich Judeo-Christian tradition as templates for a just and prosperous society. We are rightly suspicious of cultural innovations that jeopardize those values and traditions.

But here’s where ideology must be tempered with careful thought. A mere ideologue supports the cause without question. A thoughtful conservative must always ask, What we are trying to preserve and do we really want to preserve it?

Case in point: Southern conservatives were clearly, obviously on the wrong side of history during the days of the civil rights movement. The traditions they sought to preserve — racial segregation, Jim Crow laws, white privilege — were wrong, and white conservatives were wrong to support it, even if that was what they had grown up with. We can see that now. Blinded by a deeply entrenched tradition, they could not. Their position was untenable and indefensible, not just from a moral point of view but from the view of the common good.

On a whole host of contemporary issues — gun control, immigration, health care, and capital punishment, for instance — liberals and conservatives have staked out their positions. Fire-breathing ideologues on both sides will support the cause just because it is their cause.

But thoughtful conservatives owe it to themselves and, more importantly, to their nation, always to evaluate their motives and their message. If our motive is to recapture or consolidate power, we’ll never create a message that resonates with the moral sense of the public, and we’ll never be able to convince anyone — not even ourselves — that we are arguing for the common good.

Do we really think the solution to mass shootings is more guns in the hands of more people?

Do we really oppose the pathway to citizenship for all illegal immigrants, even the ones who were brought here as children and know no other home?

Do we really think health care is a commodity subject to the vicissitudes of the marketplace and not a right that should be accessible to all citizens?

Do we really think executing violent criminals is always just and right?

Our problem is that we’re all too predictable. We’re always against something, always anti-something. What are we for? How do we envision a more just and prosperous society? Is it enough to oppose Obama and the liberal agenda simply because cooperation is political suicide? Are the words “the president is right about this” impossible for a good conservative to think, let alone utter aloud?

Older conservatives can remember a time when leaders from the two sides of the aisle could afford to mix socially without fear of being labeled a traitor, when “compromise” was the grand art of politics, not a toxic label that kills careers.

The air in Washington and Columbus might be too thick with suspicion to allow that kind of collaboration. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Conservatives don’t have to march to the beat of the most aggressive drummer, even if he does have an audience in the tens of millions. We are, you know, capable of thinking for ourselves.

It may be that young conservatives, instead of leading the charge hard-right, can regroup and present a more thoughtful, nuanced message for a public exhausted by cynicism. It may be that conservatives can find common ground with liberals on issues that will benefit everyone. It may be that conservatives can take the lead in breaking up the gridlock that has paralyzed our government and alienated the voting public.

Or it may be that we’ll just keep doing what we’ve been doing.

Theodore Clinton Smart

I think there are certain experiences that are so life-changing, you feel as if you were the first one ever to experience such a thing. I think falling in love is one of those experiences, or maybe having your first child. I have just had one of those experiences: my wife's father died last week. I feel as if I've joined a Great Sad Tribe whose sufferings I never fully understood until now.

A few years ago I gave the eulogy at another funeral, and he (my father-in-law) was there. He thought I did a good job and said he wanted me to do his funeral. At the time I was merely flattered, but when the time came (two days ago), I could barely hold it together.

Here is the eulogy I delivered at his funeral two days ago:


I heard it said once that success is when those closest to you admire you the most. I think this is true, and I can tell you from personal experience and observation that Ted Smart was a wildly successful man. We are met this morning to celebrate his long and fruitful life.

Ted made it clear that he didn’t want a lot of malarky said about him at his funeral. I’m not sure what he meant by that, but I do know that it’s hard to speak of this man without speaking with the deepest affection and genuine respect. If that’s what he meant by malarky, I hope he’ll forgive me for what I’m about to say.

Ted Smart was a remarkable man. No one ever met him and walked away without his having made a strong impression. And for those of us who knew him so well and loved and admired him so deeply, the impression he made on us was life-shaping.

Ted was a remarkable man in the way he loved his family: Clarice, Diana, Kathleen, Nanette, Anita, and Ted. He loved having his family around him, and we were around him a lot. He actually put an addition on his house to make room for a longer dinner table, to accommodate the family that would come there to eat.

It was a regular habit for folks to drop by on Friday nights for dinner. Ted and Clarice never knew how many places to set or how much food to prepare. There might be a few of us or an entire table full of kinfolk on any given Friday night. After supper, after the dishes were cleared, Ted would sit down to a game of Scrabble with two or three of us at one end of that long table, while others would stay at the table with magazines, iPads, newspapers, and laptops, always accompanied on his stereo by some of the great music Ted loved: Beethoven, Dvorak, and Handel (especially the Messiah). In the living room, a few others would be watching the Reds. 

Most Sundays we were all back again, usually in larger numbers, for a late Sunday dinner. And the same scene afterward: Scrabble at one end of the table and others sitting around with the Sunday paper and coffee and the rest. I think those were among Ted’s favorite moments, with his house full of his family. What he loved most about special occasions -- the birthdays and Christmas and Thanksgiving and the annual cook-outs -- what he loved most was never the gifts or the food. It was the fact that the family had gathered. Those were his golden moments. 

But there was no clearer picture of Ted’s love of his family than what we all observed in his love for Clarice. It was mutual with the two of them, the way they took care of each other. When she was hospitalized in December after a fall, he was at her bedside constantly. And over the past weeks, as he spent time in the hospital, she was there at his side at virtually every possible moment. The love and loyalty and compassion and tenderness the two of them have shown for one another has been remarkable.

Ted led a remarkably simple life. For him, there were only a few things that really mattered -- his faith, his family, and the Ohio State Buckeyes -- and he simply refused to let life get complicated. He didn’t see the need to go anywhere except for work or church, or a special family occasion. I remember in the 1970s when I was a young adult and everyone was in a panic because of a shortage of natural gas, Ted wasn’t worried. He said over dinner one night that as long as he had the wherewithal to put gas in his car and drive to work, to put food on the table and to heat his house, he had all he needed. Ted lived his life by a set of remarkably simple, straight-forward priorities.

Ted was a remarkable man in his love for the Scriptures. He made it a habit to read through the Bible once a year. He told me once he usually finished Revelation sometime in September, then he would go back and re-read his favorite books -- the Psalms, the Gospel of John -- until year’s end. Then he would start again with Genesis in January. 

I suppose he read through the entire Bible dozens of times during his lifetime. As a result, he possessed a truly encyclopedic knowledge of the Bible. I can remember many times when we would be talking -- over dinner or maybe a game of Scrabble -- about some biblical account and he would say to me something like, “You remember what King Hezekiah said to Isaiah, don’t you? Surely you remember!” 

Of course I didn’t remember. I was the one with the seminary degree, and I didn’t know, but he knew. He seemed genuinely surprised that other people didn’t know the details of biblical stories as intimately as he did. But he knew it not just because he had read it so much, he knew it because he loved it so deeply.  

And Ted took the Scriptures literally. He believed the Scriptures were not just to be read, they are to be obeyed. He said that Jesus taught that if someone asked you for help, you should help. He gave generously to many ministries and Christian organizations and to people in need... not because he had money to spare but because he believed that was what he should do.  

Ted’s love for the Bible was indeed remarkable.

Ted would surely deny that he was a remarkable man, but the truth is that what made him such a man was his remarkable love for his Savior. He was truly amazed at the grace of God. He had put his faith in Christ while he was a young child, and he knew that God had changed the entire trajectory of his life in that moment. Not just this life, but the next as well. I remember when we would gather on Easter Sunday, we would always sing one of his favorite hymns, “Up From the Grave He Arose.” He didn’t need to see the lyrics, they were inscribed not just on his mind but on his heart. And he always raised his left hand and closed his eyes to sing that last refrain. Anyone who knew Ted knew he loved Jesus. 

That’s why Ted was ready -- when the time finally came -- to go home. Ted made his peace with God not because he lived his life so well but because he had placed his entire confidence in Christ and His sacrifice.  And now for Ted, the struggle is finally over, and he is with the Savior he so adored. 

There are people who will tell you that death is not to be feared, that death is as natural as birth, just a part of the natural order of things. But all of us sitting in this room right now know at some deep level that this is not true. We know that the death of a human being -- at any age -- is not at all natural; it is absurd. Death is a vicious intruder, an outrage, an obscenity. We somehow know that we were made for more than this, that this cannot be all there is.

Ted knew that this short life is just the beginning of life. The Scriptures that he loved so much teach that Christ destroyed the power of death by rising from the dead Himself. As a result, those who have put their faith in Christ can think about death differently. We do grieve, “but not as others, who have no hope.”

For us, the grief is profound. But for Ted, the words of the Apostle Paul have finally come true, and he is overjoyed. 

“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death...  

The body is sown in corruption; it is raised in incorruption: 

It is sown in dishonour; it is raised in glory: 

it is sown in weakness; it is raised in power... 

So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, 
and this mortal shall have put on immortality,
then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, 
Death is swallowed up in victory.                         
O death, where is thy sting? 
O grave, where is thy victory?”