Blinded By the Light

A few months ago, I went to the theater to see the movie “Paul, the Apostle of Christ.”  It was an excellent movie, not the least because I found so much of it relevant to what is happening in the world today.  The movie was centered around Paul’s time in prison in Rome; the upheaval and persecution facing the early church, and the looming certainty that Paul would be martyred and his words and leadership sorely missed.  The church in Rome was facing division– some were militantly opposed to the corruption in Rome under Nero, and wanted to form a rebellion.  Others wanted to flee Rome in hope of supporting outlying churches, starting new churches, or just finding a safer haven.  Still others were losing hope and wanted to give up or hide.

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The movie also covered (in a series of flashbacks) scenes of Paul’s earlier life.  I don’t want to spoil the movie for anyone who hasn’t seen it, but this part of Paul’s life is covered in the Bible, so I will stick to the facts presented there, rather than the drama from the screen…

Saul of Tarsus was both a Jew and a Roman citizen by birth.  He had studied God’s word intensely his whole life, and became a Pharisee.  He had studied under some of the greatest scholars of his age–in today’s world, he would have been one of the greatest legal minds of our time– a superstar in the arena of law, philosophy, and logic.  Of all the people in Jerusalem and throughout the Jewish world, Paul KNEW right from wrong.  He KNEW the words of God, the laws of God, the traditions of God’s people.  The result of all that knowledge was an obsession with wiping out those people (Jews, especially, but also Gentiles) who followed Jesus of Nazareth and “The Way.”  Saul was a man filled with righteous anger, and a zeal to have everyone conform to what was “right.”   He was a man of power and influence– a man to be feared and respected.  In his letters, we can still see some of that intensity and the way he has of arguing both sides to their logical ends.  But something happened to Saul..something that changed his entire future, including his name.

Paul, the Apostle of Christ, was still a Jew and a Roman citizen.  He was the same man who had studied vigorously and knew the laws of Moses and God’s words through the centuries written by prophets and historians and psalmists.  But the Paul we see in scripture, while still bearing the intensity of his youth, is a man of gratitude and peace.  Here is a man who works steadily with his hands for honest but meager wages compared to what he might have made as a Pharisee.  He is a man who boldly faces down even Peter and James in Jerusalem, but who nevertheless takes orders from a council made up of former fishermen and tradesmen.  Paul undergoes flogging, arrests, prison, cold, hardship, physical pain, poverty, and disgrace with the kind of stoic acceptance, and even joy, that makes him a great hero of the early church.  Never once does he return to the anger that drove him to persecute others who did not agree with him.  Instead, he is willing to be the victim of persecution at the hands of those he used to serve.

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I was scrolling through Facebook the other night, and I chanced upon posts from two women I know.  Both are about the same age, both mothers of five children, and both are practicing Christians.  The first woman was posting about two recent difficulties faced by her family, and how God had been faithful and gracious in spite of a huge loss and a tense situation that could have turned into another tragedy.  She spoke of God’s answers to prayer, and how their family was reminded of God’s goodness as people came alongside at just the right moment, and the loss was not as great as it might have been.  I was inspired and encouraged by the way she saw God’s love, and gave credit to all who had helped them.

The second woman spoke in vicious tones about how she would not associate with certain Christians who hold political and social views she sees as hateful.  She cursed fellow followers of Christ for being “anti-Jesus,” and condemned several of her early teachers and pastors.  I read her remarks with great sadness, because I remember her as a younger woman, eagerly memorizing scripture and being a loving and encouraging example to others.  I also read her remarks with pain, because I think she includes me in the “hateful” group based solely on the type of church I attend.

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It is not my place to say that one woman is a “better” Christian than the other– on another day, their FB posts might cause me to think very differently.  And God sees more than just what we post on FB or say in passing conversation–He knows our every thought and motive.  So I want to be careful–these women, though similar in some superficial ways, lead very different lives and have very different experiences of following God.  But I saw in their posts two ways of “seeing” Christ.

When Saul of Tarsus, in his anger and zeal, traveled toward Damascus intending to kill people he may have never met, he was already a crusader for Jehovah– ready to mete out justice against anyone who didn’t meet his standards.  He KNEW all about God.  He knew what it took to be righteous.

But when he actually encountered Christ– he was knocked off his horse, blinded and overwhelmed by a vision.  And when Christ spoke to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” (Acts 9:4), Saul didn’t recognize the voice of the very God he so proudly served.  Saul remained blinded for three days, but his vision was never the same again.

As Paul, he became a man of prayer– his letters are filled with prayers for the well-being and spiritual growth of those he misses and longs to see.  They overflow with doxologies and prayers of worship for the Savior he loves and serves with gladness.  He can’t stop talking about God’s goodness– to him, to Israel throughout the centuries, and to the Gentiles who now have access to the throne of Grace.  He still has harsh things to say to some of the followers who “don’t get it.”   To those who want to compromise with sin or go back to legalism.  But he pleads with them; he doesn’t throw stones.

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It can be very frustrating in today’s world and in our society to see Christians who have very different ideas about worship styles, ways of interacting with others, even ways of living out the words of Christ.  Sometimes, it seems that fellow Christians are blind to the needs of the poor, or the sins of their friends, or the hypocrisy in their lifestyle.  I think scripture gives us a clear directive:

Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye.

Matthew 7:3-5 (English Standard Version)

We should not rush to condemnation, name-calling, and finger-pointing.  Instead, we should do a “vision” test and see if we are looking and acting in love or in self-righteous hypocrisy.

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God doesn’t want us to be blinded by the light of our own knowledge and self-righteousness.  Instead, He wants us to walk in the light of His Word–His Word made flesh!  May we live in the light of Paul’s example of prayer, loving correction, and running the good race.

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M.I.A.

Yesterday was Father’s Day.  Father’s Day can be very difficult for many people– in my case, it can be a reminder of how much I miss my Dad, who passed away 20 years ago.  Some of my friends have had recent experience in losing a beloved father.  For some, the hurt is still there after 50 years, or 70.

For others, it is a difficult day, not because they grieve the loss of a father to death, but because they grieve the absence of a loving father– an absentee father, an unknown father, an abusive father, or a distant, cold, or critical father.

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At this point, I generally point to the Father who is eternally loving and faithful– Our Heavenly Father is God of the fatherless and the orphan, the God of restoration and reconciliation.  No matter where our earthly fathers are or have been, God is always right by our side.

All that is true, but I want to share something that’s been bothering me.  I scrolled down my FB feed, and listened in at church, and talked to a restaurant owner, and looked at the card section at the store.  And there’s something missing.  It’s not that we don’t honor fathers.  I saw a lot of wonderful tributes to dads, husbands, brothers, and sons.  I saw sons sitting with their recently widowed father at church; a son honoring his father by taking him out to eat; fathers and sons wearing awesome matching shirts with fun messages, and lots of old photos of dads with their families in years past, as well as newer pictures of dads with goofy toddlers, and pretty girls in prom dresses, and holding newborns.

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We honor fathers, but we do not honor Fatherhood.  We seem awkwardly proud and surprised when fathers actually show up and do their job.  We make it seem easy, even brainless, in comparison to the work of a mother.  In fact, there are those who argue that Fatherhood is not necessary for family life.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  It is POSSIBLE to rear children in a single-parent household (male or female).  It is possible to raise strong and healthy children without the presence of a father (or mother).  But that doesn’t make it desirable or advantageous for a child, or for society.

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What are we losing as a society when we engage in (or stay on the sidelines for) a war on Fatherhood?  When we make excuses for bad fathers or mothers who choose to denigrate the men who gave life to their children?  What happens when “dad” becomes, not the name of a single influential person in your life, but the name of whichever man is currently living with mom, AND also the man who sees you every other weekend?  What happens when the media consistently portray moms as hardworking and wise, and dads are the comic relief?

We are losing the next generation of fathers; the next generation of men with drive and passion to work for something beyond their own whims and wants.  We are losing the next generation of women, too– as they struggle to be both mothers and fathers, or choose to be neither because it’s too much trouble to do it alone.  We are losing a sense of what it means to be a Father– the honor, the responsibility, the joy and pride, the reward.  Worst of all, we are losing the examples of fathers who through their words and actions, are pointing others to our Heavenly Father.  God is not a baby-daddy; He is not an absentee father or an every-other-weekend Father.  He is not a faceless provider of money for new clothes and college textbooks.  He is not a goofy guy who tells bad jokes and pats you on the head once in a while.  He is not the one who never shows up for your game or your dance recital because he’s too busy playing golf with the guys.

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This isn’t universally true– and I’m so grateful for the men, young and old, who are staying the course, setting the examples, and standing out like beacons of light.  And I don’t wish to belittle the women who have had to be both mother and father due to death or other circumstances beyond their control.  But we desperately need good fathers.  We need fathers who will fight the good fight; not fathers who are Missing In Action.  We need active, responsible, faithful Dads.  But we need to pray for them.  We need to honor them.  We need to encourage and support them.  More than just one day a year….

Prayers of the “Color-Blind” Christian

My father was color-blind.  Everything in the world appeared to him in various shades of gray, except for one color.  Red.  His whole life was spent seeing the world like a weird noir comic strip or old black and white movie with splashes of red ink or red colorized film.  He learned to adapt– to memorize color patterns for signs and traffic lights; to guess at colors based on past experience (roses that weren’t red or white were likely to be pink or yellow); to trick people into telling him the color of an object–but I always felt sad to know that he was missing out on so much beauty.  He had a marvelous eye for patterns and probably could have been a great artist or art critic…if only.

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So it always bothers me when people use the term “color-blind” to refer to themselves in relation to bigotry, racism, and loving (or not loving) fellow human beings.  Being “color-blind” is not a desirable thing;  it is not a Godly thing.  God created colors, and skin tones, and genetic codes that shape similarities and differences across the human race– the single and uniformly fallen and redeemed human race.  He blessed the world with variety and beauty, and He gave us eyes to see it and appreciate it– to be color-blind is to miss out on that, and to belittle and disregard God’s gifts.  There is no segregation in Heaven– no “white” God or “black” God or “red” or “yellow” God– no separation of people groups or subsets of nationalities, languages, denominations, or cultures.  Everyone is precious and unique in God’s eyes– every one loved with an everlasting and boundless love.  God doesn’t want a world of gray, two-dimensional, interchangeable followers.  He wants a vibrant, dynamic, beautiful bride.

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What we need are fewer Christians who claim (disingenuously) to be color-blind, and more color-rich Christians– Christ followers who encourage and appreciate one another, pushing each other to love and good works.

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If we were all color-blind, there would be one stark image that would never leave our vision– each follower of Christ would stand out in sharp contrast with the rest of the gray world, as they would be washed by the very red blood of the Savior.  All other pretensions of color and division would be lost.

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Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me;
I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see!

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