The Inherent Disorder of Social Media Friendships

Editor’s note: This article is republished with permission of the author. The original article is available here.

I want you to think back to childhood and remember when you met one of your best friends. You may not remember all the exact words, but you might be able to recall the situation. Maybe you were in the same classroom and got partnered up for some activity. Maybe you were at recess and were part of the same kickball game. Perhaps your parents were friends already, so you met at some party or event.

Your first interaction was very surface-level. I do not mean that in a derogatory fashion. That is how most relationships start. It is a low-stakes situation; you talked about drawing a picture, playing a game, or what was for dinner when you were a kid. Even as an adult, when someone new starts to work in your office, you ask about their last job, their family, or talk about the weather. You do not dive right into their hopes, dreams, fears, and vulnerabilities. That would be incredibly awkward and would be considered prying by most people.

Now I would like you to consider a conversation you may have had with your best friend or inner circle of friends recently. Perhaps you started talking about things that were much more personal or even controversial. You might have talked about political or religious matters. You might have talked about problems you are having with your job or family. You may have disclosed an area in which you are struggling. Because these people have proven themselves to be your closest friends and you have a relationship already built, you probably felt comfortable opening up without fear of ridicule or antipathy. A more developed relationship allows for a greater level of emotional intimacy.

Many of my close friends have very different political and religious beliefs than I do. We talk about these things from time to time, and we disagree, but we have a friendship already built. We already like each other, so our relationship is resilient enough to handle the disagreement. It is almost like a pyramid; we have a base of things that we enjoy doing together, so the structure survives.

However, when I think about these friends with whom I have substantial disagreements, none of our friendships really started talking about these areas of disagreement. I don’t know what would have happened if we had jumped right into a debate the first time we met. Maybe we would have gotten sick of each other and never talked again. Maybe we would have gotten extremely frustrated and just decided to go our separate ways rather than finding time to find other areas of common interest. Perhaps you are different from me, but I don’t tend to run headfirst into conflict if I can help it. I’m not afraid of conflict, but I would rather sit around and laugh and enjoy people’s company than always fight with them. I am willing to have good-natured conflicts with people I like because I understand that, at the end of the day, despite our disagreements, we can still be friends.

I think that we all understand that this is the natural way relationships ought to develop. It feels right to us intuitively. Even in a romantic relationship, you begin by casually going out with someone, and ideally, that relationship develops more and more intimacy until it becomes a lifelong marriage. Although there are reality shows that have people get married in thirty days, most of us would be uncomfortable with becoming that close to someone so quickly.

“Whether the relationship is platonic or romantic, there are levels of disclosure depending on the proximity of that relationship.”

Social media turns this dynamic upside down, and I believe that this is one of the reasons why social media tends to become so toxic.

Many of us view social media as an outlet for our thoughts and opinions. Because we view our walls as a place for self-expression, we tend to share things that are important to us. We don’t normally talk about the boring things that begin relationships. Although I have posted about extreme weather conditions before, I rarely post about something like that. I am much more likely to post about something I feel is really important and want other people to know about. In other words, I tend to post about things much closer to the deeper parts of my being, the things that are much more personally significant.

The people who see my Facebook posts range from my best friends to people I hardly know. Perhaps you could criticize my tendency to accept Facebook friendships from people I do not know, and there is a case to be made for not doing that. However, I have been involved in public ministry projects like An Unexpected Journal. If people want to connect with me and if it helps spread the word about good projects, I don’t like to turn people away very often.

You can see the problem with this dynamic almost immediately. I sometimes share very personal thoughts and core beliefs with a group of people who hardly know me. To use the imagery from the beginning of this piece, I am having a conversation with a bunch of new acquaintances that I should be having with my close friends.

When one of these people I barely know takes issue with one of my closely held beliefs that I have decided to share because I believe it is important, I have very little investment in wanting to maintain that friendship. After all, this is not one of my close friends that I am going to want to hold onto, despite my disagreement. If we picture a scale, there is nothing on the side of good times and good memories to offset the frustration that comes with conflict and ideological contradiction. Therefore, I might tend to lash out. I might tend to want to slam that ridiculous belief. After all, that person came after my beliefs on my wall; I have to show my friends that my way is the right way.

Escalation is inevitable in this situation. The conflict escalates until we have toxicity. We are quick to blame so many different things, but I hope you understand that the model of social media friendship is disordered.

“We live in a world that ought to be ordered, and with disorder ultimately comes chaos. Social media brings our acquaintances to a level of relational intimacy that ought to be reserved for our closest friends. ”

No wonder we get so frustrated with people and talk about other people trolling our page. I don’t know anyone who calls their friend a troll, but I know many people who accuse their Facebook “friends” of trolling them. Would your friend troll you? Not one of your best friends, even if you disagree with them, because you know them on a deeper level than just as an Internet provocateur.

You might be wondering how to handle this problem. You might be wondering what we can do to reorder friendships appropriately in the social media age.

First, I think private messages are great. Yes, I still post things publicly, but a great deal of my social media activity takes place on Facebook Messenger. I talk to people about all kinds of things. Some are serious; some are not. Some are controversial, while some are bland. Having this kind of correspondence friendship is superior to debating on public walls. I find there is less grandstanding. I also find that I can approach my friendships in the proper order. Am I talking to someone I barely know? I talk about surface-level things. I get to know them and develop a friendship that might develop into a closer friendship. Am I talking to someone I have known for several years? We can talk about heavier things, understanding that our friendship will survive even if we disagree. Rather than broadcasting our every thought, private messages are a great way of utilizing social media to associate with people on the appropriate relational level.

Second, we need to decide if we want to be public figures. Some people are called to be public intellectuals. They want to put their ideas out there. If you want to do that, you need to be comfortable with the fact that some people will not agree with you. You can’t be offended that people decide to troll you. Being a public intellectual is not for you if your skin is thin. If you are actively trying to promote ideas, then on some level, you are working as a public intellectual (insert joke about a lot of us being more or less intellectual than others, which is true).

That being said, being a public intellectual is also different than developing friendships. If you are a public intellectual, you develop a following. Your followers are not the same as your friends. I would argue that public intellectuals still need to develop friendships in the same order as I have outlined above. I have a feeling that if you went out to dinner with Patrick Deneen, you might not dive into a deep political debate the first time you met. You would probably get to know each other and might become friends. You might ideologically disagree with him and enjoy his company as a friend. Robert George and Cornel West are rather famous for this, as were Antonin Scalia and Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Even public intellectuals make friends in the order I suggested, even though because of their platforms, many people just yell about them.

As a result, if you want to be a public figure, recognize that you still need to follow the formula to make friends. Your friends are going to be those you build a relationship with, not those who idolize or despise you.

Finally, treat social media for what it is. With its fundamentally flawed friendship order, it cannot do the job of making friends for you. It is not well suited for that. However, I have developed some amazing friendships with people I have never met in person. Social media has helped me facilitate that. I am not going to sit here and say that you cannot make friends on social media. That would be demonstrably false in my life and probably in yours. Nevertheless, we became friends in the proper order. We chatted about basic things, realized we had areas of common interest, developed our friendship more deeply, and became great friends in the process who were able to talk about all kinds of things without threatening the existence of that friendship.

We live in a world that is desperate for friendship, and we look for it on social media. However, suppose we do that without considering the true development of friendships. In that case, we will be frustrated when they continually burn out due to getting too deep too fast.

*NOTE*

I have been wrestling with this conception of social media friendship for some time and would love to hear your experiences and stories. I am considering expanding this theory into a book-length treatment, but that is in a very early stage. If you think it would be interesting, I would love to hear some encouragement to motivate me to start working.

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About Dr. Schmoll

Dr. Zachary D. Schmoll earned his Ph.D. in Humanities from Faulkner University after defending his dissertation entitled, Great Men? Considering Chesterton and Belloc’s Role in the History of the Distributist Movement. He also earned his M.A. in Apologetics at Houston Baptist University and was an Honors College Scholar while double majoring in Business Administration and Statistics at the University of Vermont.

Schmoll is honored to have served as the Managing Editor of An Unexpected Journal from its inception until the end of 2022. An Unexpected Journal is a quarterly publication that seeks to demonstrate the truth of Christianity through both reason and the imagination to engage the culture from a Christian worldview. What began as an informal discussion among friends about the need for a journal of cultural apologetics has developed into a respected publication that has received contributions from some of the most important scholars in the field.

Within the field of cultural apologetics, Schmoll's main research interest is the work of J.R.R. Tolkien. Specifically, he is interested in studying Samwise Gamgee as Tolkien's "chief hero," the role of the supernatural in Tolkien's legendarium, and the importance of community chiefly in the Shire but also throughout Middle-earth. Some of his other research interests include the work of G.K. Chesterton, the role of Christianity in the public square, and the development of Western Civilization from Athens and Jerusalem.

Schmoll lives in rural Vermont where he enjoys power soccer, bonfires, and, sadly, the Philadelphia Phillies.

J.P. Moreland: Finding Quiet: Learning to Handle Anxiety [Talbot Chapel]

A key part of moral apologetics is the notion of moral transformation. Moral transformation has to do with how we can be genuinely made good people and how we can live successfully according to the moral law. It also has to do with how we can be made to relate to the good and love rightly. In this chapel service from Biola University, Dr. J.P. Moreland explains a Christian approach to dealing with one part of moral transformation: overcoming anxiety and depression.

Can Forgiveness Make Sense? (Part 2)

Author’s Note: This paper was written for and initially presented at the first annual symposium of the Society for Women of Letters (June 2022, Asheville, NC).

The Lord’s Prayer as Model and Means of Forgiveness

The Lord’s Prayer is the model that Christ offered his disciples when they asked for his instruction on how to pray. Wesley Hill’s primer on the prayer offers a helpful rundown of how the church has historically understood its import, and most of my discussion that follows is informed by that book.[1] The prayer consists of six petitions (or seven, depending on how the final section is handled). The opening three petitions center on God’s character and reign, and the others turn to the human condition, invoking God’s aid for what ails us. It’s a rich prayer, with quite a bit to unpack. But I want to focus primarily on how the full context can help us better appreciate and practice the difficult art of forgiveness.

Needy Creatures

We’ll start with the second half, the petitions aimed at the human condition. There we find Jesus acknowledging our agonizing need: our need for sustenance, both physical and spiritual; our need for grace, protection, and rescue. Regular recitation of this prayer, Hill explains, trains us to rightly envision our plight, as utterly dependent on God’s provision. Not just in the past as though God winds us up and leaves us to our own devices, but moment by moment, “this day,” we are sustained by God’s provision. What an antidote to the self-reliance enshrined in our contemporary American culture.

This reminder of who we are as God’s creatures is also a comfort as we consider the prayer’s appeal for forgiveness and deliverance from evil. Human beings are all in the same boat, we find—all, victims and victimizers alike, buoyed up only by God’s allowance. All of us are in dire need of saving from the sin that surrounds and infects us, the sin that’s “more pervasive and intractable than individual peccadilloes or improvable behaviors,” to use Hill’s language.[2] These petitions of The Lord’s Prayer strike at the very root of human corruption, the lie that tells us we are our own, that we can do as we please, and are unaccountable to anyone else. And most importantly for our purposes, the lie that the evil perpetuated against us cannot find refuge in our own hearts.

This is not to suggest a moral equivalence between large infractions and small. That bit of received wisdom often hampers our attempts at forgiveness, either asking us to minimize harm done to us or overestimating the harm we ourselves have done to others. As Cornelius Plantinga explains, “All sin is equally wrong, but not all sin is equally bad.”[3] He continues, “The badness or seriousness of sin depends to some degree on the amount and kind of damage it inflicts, including damage to the sinner, and to some degree on the personal investment and motive of the sinner.”[4]

If anything, The Lord’s Prayer is realistic about the nature and extent of sin in this world and the damage it does to God’s creation. Petition VII puts a face on the evil one who seeks to devour us, infiltrating and enlisting those who give themselves over to his service. “What we need to be rescued from,” Hill says, “isn’t just the devices and desires of our wayward hearts, as real and dangerous as those are, but also the malevolence of a personal being bent on our suffering.”[5] The temptation to revenge, as gratifying as it may feel, is to turn ourselves over to that destruction. Marilyn Adams explains, “To return horror for horror does not erase but doubles the individual’s participation in horrors—first as victim, then as the one whose injury occasions another’s prima facie ruin.”[6]

In Stump’s essay that I referenced earlier, she provides some language to help us think through these gradations of guilt. There she catalogues, on a sliding scale, the damaging effects sin has on the perpetrator him or herself, to include defects to the person’s psyche, memory, and empathic capacities, and sin’s harmful and unjust consequences in the world, whether resulting from the wrongdoer’s action or inaction.

Who God Is

These details matter to the one wrestling with forgiveness. A naïve understanding that jumps quickly to reconciliation can easily leave open the door for yet more harm, to both parties. It is not good either to sin or to be sinned against. The Lord’s Prayer dispels such naivety by virtue of its portrait of God, a loving Father who invites us into holy and flourishing fellowship with him. A world infected by sin and human corruption is incompatible with the promise we have in this prayer of God’s kingdom to come and his will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. Whatever forgiveness is, we can be sure that it is part and parcel of the resounding victory of the prayer’s final lines: God’s kingdom, power, and glory ultimately transcend and defeat whatever now is currently arrayed against them. This is the truth that The Lord’s Prayer opens our eyes up to, and the vision that enables us to enter into the spirit and process of forgiveness, trusting no less than God himself to bring it to completion. What Weisenthal could not be, as stand-in for the Jews that the Nazi soldier harmed, Christ himself can fulfill—both as the one to bear the harm done and the one to offer the ultimate absolution.

Prayer joins us in this process. It is a rebellion, as David Wells describes it, “against the world in its fallenness, the absolute and undying refusal to accept as normal what is pervasively abnormal.”[7] The Lord’s Prayer, then, is a clear-eyed, realistic assessment of our current status against the backdrop of what should—and ultimately what will—be, given God’s nature. Hill explains, “When we pray, ‘Your will be done, on earth as in heaven,’ we are aware of how God’s will is not being done in our world. We are asking God to overcome this contradiction, to act in such a way that life on earth increasingly resembles the peaceable and joyous life of God, of heaven.”[8]

Like the Persistent Widow in Jesus’ parable, when we fully embrace The Lord’s Prayer, we refuse “every agenda, every scheme, every interpretation that is at odds with the norm as originally established by God.”[9] We confess, along with Volf, that we cannot forgive on our own steam but that on Christ’s we can and should. We affirm that God’s kingdom is victorious over any and all attacks upon it, including the ones where we have found ourselves in the line of a perpetrator’s fire. Although this affirmation takes the form of a petition in The Lord’s Prayer, it’s functioning more as an alignment, of our purposes and spirit with God’s. Through recitation of the prayer, Hill says, we are “stretching our hearts so that we may learn to desire truer, greater realities.”[10]

This greater reality is our ultimate promise: deliverance from oppression, healing, and restoration from the disfiguration caused by sin and death.[11] Healing both for harm we have done and harm done to us. It is out of God’s character that his plan for salvation, his deliverance from guilt and the death and damage of sin in all of its instantiations, comes. And this is God’s plan, The Lord’s Prayer tells us, that is already underway and available for us right here and now, even if it is not yet fully realized. Only a God who has entered in to our suffering, who has taken on human flesh and dwelt among us can provide that remedy.

Christ as Our Deliverer

In Jesus Christ, God’s own son, we find all the resources that potential forgivers need. Christ is everywhere present in The Lord’s Prayer, both as the one inviting us into fellowship and as the very bridge we walk across to approach God’s throne. Christ is also the means by which God’s will is enacted in this world, the way the curse that we labor under is reversed, how our crisis of forgiveness is resolved. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Christ cries out to his Abba, Father, asking that the cup of suffering and death he is about to drink be passed from him. Even still, in an agonizing act of obedience and an illuminating echo of The Lord’s Prayer, Jesus declares, “Thy will be done.”

This divine action is the paradoxical linchpin of our faith and what ultimately makes sense of forgiveness’ counterintuitive demands. Hill explains it this way:

It’s clear to us that the will of God in heaven is the perfect, eternal love of Father, Son, and Spirit, unmarred by any suffering or dying. What is less intuitive—but what Gethsemane and, later, Calvary force us to notice—is that the will of God is also the way of the incarnate Lord into the far country of our suffering and dying, where he is mocked, spit upon, strung up, and left to suffocate. That is what it looks like for the will of God to be done on earth as it is in heaven because that is the only way our earth can be saved.[12]

Our forgiveness—whether enacted or received by us—our ability to heal and be healed, rests alone on the work of Christ on the cross. And that is the promise we must cling to as we undertake our own hard work of forgiveness. There’s a suffering involved in that process, to be sure, but we can know that that suffering is not in vain. Hill again: “God must also be at work in suffering, in darkness, in torment, because only if God confronts the horror we’ve made of the world, bears it, and bears it away can the triumph of God’s love be assured.”[13]

But let me not leave you with a promise of suffering. I recognize that’s not much of a comfort. My intention instead is to leave you with a word of hope, to help us fix in our minds the beautiful reality that lies on the other side of our earthly travails. Recently, I had the opportunity to hear N. T. Wright speak at Lanier Library in Houston, with a message that draws together the various threads of my argument and underscores the hope we have in our struggles to forgive. Turning to Romans 8, Wright highlighted how our own times of trial, our own Gethsemane moments—when we, like Christ, call out to our Abba, Father (Romans 8:15)—these are the precise places in which we can perceive, and even participate in, the divine life of God himself.

Those who have faced a crisis of forgiveness will certainly resonate with Paul’s acknowledgment that we often do not know how we are to pray. In trying to forgive painful hurts, we struggle to understand how justice can be achieved or why mercy must be extended. In that moment, Paul affirms, we can be sure that “the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans too deep for words” (Romans 8:26). This co-laboring with God in our prayers of deep sorrow is the backdrop for the glorious assurance of Romans 8:28, a verse that Wright translates in this clarifying way: "God works all things towards ultimate good with and through those who love him.”[14] That’s true for our crises of forgiveness. Lament in the face of our overwhelming challenges, the times when we most keenly feel our frailty and most desperately need deliverance, is the very seedbed of the hope we cry out for.[15]

The Lord’s Prayer is really a lifeline to that hope, which will not disappoint. It’s a promise bigger than we can even imagine, although Jesus invites us to try. The petitions of The Lord’s Prayer, when we enter fully into its mindset, we recognize as pointers, pointers to the life we are made for and that God longs to welcome us into. As Hill explains, “This is what the final praise in the Lord’s Prayer means to direct us toward: there is coming a time when we will have no more need to ask God for bread, for absolution, or for rescue. All of our tears will have been wiped away, death will have been finally defeated, and the earth and its people will be at peace and thriving.”[16] And that is a promise we can cling to, a story big enough to house justice and mercy, and a power strong enough to fuel our will to forgive.

[1] Wesley Hill, The Lord’s Prayer: A Guide to Praying to Our Father (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2019).

[2] Ibid., 61.

[3] Cornelius Plantinga, Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 21.

[4] Ibid., 22.

[5] Hill, The Lord’s Prayer, 82.

[6] Marilyn Adams, Horrendous Evils and the Goodness of God (Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 2000),

[7] David Wells, “Prayer: Rebelling Against the Status Quo,” Summit Christian Fellowship, June 17, 2020, accessed May 29, 2022, https://summit-christian.org/blog/2020/06/17/prayer-rebelling-against-the-status-quo.

[8] Hill, The Lord’s Prayer, 42.

[9] Wells.

[10] Hill, The Lord’s Prayer, 45.

[11] Hill, The Lord’s Prayer, 34-35.

[12] Wesley Hill, “Praying the Lord’s Prayer in Gethsemane,” First Things, April 2, 2015, accessed May 29, 2022, https://www.firstthings.com/blogs/firstthoughts/2015/04/praying-the-lords-prayer-in-gethsemane.

[13] Ibid.

[14] You can find this translation in Wright’s God and the Pandemic (Zondervan, 2020). Glenn Packiam’s review of the book (found here: https://www.glennpackiam.com/post/n-t-wright-on-god-and-the-pandemic) also includes it.

[15] I’d love to claim credit for this phrasing, but it was all N. T. Wright. “Lament is the seedbed of hope” is a line from his talk that will stick with me for some time to come.

[16] Hill, The Lord’s Prayer, 94.

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Marybeth Baggett is professor of English and Cultural Apologetics at Houston Baptist University. She earned her PhD in Literature and Criticism from Indiana University of Pennsylvania, and — along with her husband— recently has published Telling Tales: Intimations of the Sacred in Popular Culture (Moral Apologetics Press, 2021).

Can Forgiveness Make Sense? (Part 1)

Author’s Note: This paper was written for and initially presented at the first annual symposium of the Society for Women of Letters (June 2022, Asheville, NC).

The Sunflower

Simon Wiesenthal is a Holocaust survivor renowned for his role in tracking down and bringing to justice fugitive Nazis who fled at the close of World War II. While still a prisoner, Wiesenthal was one day brought to the room of a dying SS member at the Nazi’s request. The soldier wanted to unburden himself of his guilty conscience and find absolution before his imminent demise. To that end, he hoped that Wiesenthal would serve as a stand-in for the specific Jews that he had directly harmed. Forgiveness from him, the logic went, would release the Nazi from his guilt and bring him much-needed peace.

Wiesenthal chronicles this encounter in his 1969 book The Sunflower, and his account is worth reading in its entirety, including the symposium that makes up the second half of the book. It’s difficult for me to convey either the brutality of the atrocities that the Nazi describes or the pathos of his confession. Wiesenthal does so masterfully and, importantly, the author contextualizes that deathbed scene within his own day-to-day horrors of life in the concentration camp. As we well know and as the book vividly reminds us, the Nazi’s confession is a mere drop in the bucket of the hell that Hitler’s forces unleashed on those the German fascists deemed undesirable.

The book’s title refers to the sunflowers planted on the graves of Nazi soldiers to honor them, a ghastly tableau that Wiesenthal could see across the way from the camp. That tribute was a painful contrast to the indignities heaped on the many deaths that daily surrounded Wiesenthal and his fellow prisoners, and this uncanny sense of shared humanity across a gulf of inhumane difference pervades the exchange between Wiesenthal and the dying Nazi.

That meeting also upended the given power dynamic of the Third Reich: the Nazi sought something from the Jew that could not be coerced. Forgiveness would be either freely given or withheld. While the SS man disclosed his secrets, Wiesenthal grappled with how to respond: “He sought my pity, but had he any right to pity? Did a man of this kind deserve anybody’s pity?”[1] It’s clear from the exchange that the Nazi has in fact repented and fully realized his need for the peace that comes only through forgiveness. But was that enough for Wiesenthal to bestow it upon him? And what difference would forgiveness make since, as Wiesenthal notes, “[h]e was confessing his crime to a man who perhaps tomorrow must die at the hands of these same murderers.”[2]

Ultimately, Wiesenthal could not bring himself to share words of forgiveness, leaving instead without opening his mouth. The decision was almost instinctual, involuntary, and it haunted Wiesenthal for many years. He sought counsel from others when he returned to the camp, hoping they might be able to explain and perhaps even justify his visceral rejection of the dying man’s pleas. As the years wore on, he wondered if his response was, in fact, cruel. Out of this mystery and Wiesenthal’s inability to solve it, even a quarter of a century later, came this question, which he posed to notable public figures to solicit their responses: “You,” he asks, “who have just read this sad and tragic episode in my life, can mentally change places with me and ask yourself the crucial question, ‘What would I have done?’”[3]

The Dilemma of Forgiveness

The fifty-three responses that came in were all over the map, though most (thirty four in the expanded edition) argued that Wiesenthal was right not to forgive. Only ten posited that forgiveness was necessary. The other nine were uncertain. Harshest among the denials was Jewish-American writer Cynthia Ozick who condemned the Nazi, seeing even his confession as manipulation and abuse of power. “Let the SS man die unshriven,” she exclaimed. “Let him go to hell.”[4] On the other side, South African bishop Desmond Tutu put a pragmatic spin on his Christian response: “It is clear that if we look only to retributive justice, then we could just as well close up shop. Forgiveness is not some nebulous thing. It is practical politics. Without forgiveness, there is no future.”[5]

Most of us will never be in the position of either the SS officer or the Holocaust survivor, neither needing to be forgiven for such unthinkably heinous wrongs nor needing to forgive such large-scale, unimaginable atrocities inflicted upon us or upon those we love. Nonetheless, reflecting on the extreme case of guilt and injustice that Wiesenthal’s story presents and the crisis of forgiveness it evokes is still worthwhile, doubly so for those of us who claim Christianity since forgiveness is deep down at the very root of our faith.

To begin, let’s think a bit about the impulses behind the different responses to Wiesenthal’s question. Reading them, one realizes the richness of this topic and the complexity of the question that he poses. His respondents dig into the nooks and crannies of what forgiveness is, they search out what it requires, consider the implications of forgiveness or its denial, and weigh the psychological struggle involved. Even if you already have a strong sense about which response is right, I’d encourage you to withhold judgment, just for now, and sit a while with the tension. In Exclusion and Embrace, theologian Miroslav Volf brings to bear the terms of the gospel to the weighty questions of alienation and injustice. Volf’s own history as a Croatian living through the Balkan warfare of the late twentieth century informs his reflections and prevents him from regurgitating simple answers.

Volf’s preface well captures the tension that I’m asking you to consider. The book, he says there, was prompted by a question that Jürgen Moltmann asked him after a talk he gave arguing that we have a moral obligation to embrace our enemies. Could Volf embrace a četnik, one of the Serbian fighters who had so thoroughly ravaged his country and its people? To put the question on Wiesenthal’s terms, could Volf muster fellow human feelings sufficient to forgive one who had done him and those close to him such harm?

“No, I cannot,” Volf finally answered, “but as a follower of Christ I think I should be able to.”[6]

While writing Exclusion and Embrace in an attempt to work out this struggle, Volf confesses, “My thought was pulled in two different directions by the blood of the innocent crying out to God and by the blood of God’s Lamb offered for the guilty.”[7] Herein lies the tension: “How does one remain loyal both to the demand of the oppressed for justice and to the gift of forgiveness that the Crucified offered to the perpetrators?”[8] To opt for one felt a betrayal of the other, either to further disenfranchise the already oppressed or to disavow his faith. Even worse, the longer Volf sat with the tension, the more it seemed that God was at odds with himself, at once delivering the needy and restoring the wrongdoer. Just what kind of toxic, dysfunctional family is God trying to make?

Can these two apparently irreconcilable divine actions somehow align? Surely the God who loves the wronged party also loves the one who hurt him, but mustn’t love of one require punishment of the other? Many of our doubts about the demands of forgiveness stem from our own psychological and imaginative limitations, which makes one wonder whether a rational case for our obligation to forgive matters if it’s simply impracticable for us to carry out.

Scripture’s Mandate

And yet scripture calls us time and again to forgiveness, even going as far as to bind our own forgiveness to the forgiveness we offer others. We see this link explicitly articulated in the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant in Matthew 18 and in The Lord’s Prayer (Matthew 6:9-13, Luke 11:2-4). “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who have sinned against us,” so the fifth petition of the prayer goes. As C. S. Lewis explains in his classic Mere Christianity, “There is no slightest suggestion that we are offered forgiveness on any other terms. It is made perfectly clear that if we do not forgive we shall not be forgiven.”[9]

A world without forgiveness, as Bishop Tutu noted, is unimaginable. This side of Eden, sin—and the death it entails—sadly is a persistent presence, at least that’s the case while we wait for God’s kingdom to reach its crescendo and bring to consummation the victory Christ inaugurated on the cross. Ever since Cain, human beings harm each other daily—in big and small ways. Lamech’s attitude to such mistreatment that we find in Genesis 4 makes a certain kind of sense: “I have killed a man for wounding me,” Lamech boasts to his wives. “[A] young man for striking me. If Cain’s revenge is sevenfold, then Lamech’s is seventy-sevenfold.”[10] On human terms, payback for wrongs is logical, necessary even. But who wants to live in a vortex of infinite vengeance, bound forever to lex talionis?

By contrast Jesus’ vision of unlimited forgiveness laid out in Matthew 18—seventy times seven—sure seems more appealing. But might it also feel, at least for some, like a burden, even for far more commonplace hurts than Wiesenthal experienced? Wouldn’t boundless forgiveness simply invite yet more harm? Wouldn’t unending grace exacerbate power imbalances and force the already exploited into deeper levels of oppression?

I confess that this is the burden I personally carried when I came up against my own crisis of forgiveness some years back. Someone I counted as a close friend had thoroughly betrayed me. To use Lewis Smedes’ rubric of the difficult cases of forgiveness, the hurt this person caused me was three-fold: personal, unfair, and deep.[11] No easy Band-aid could fix the problem. Compounding the suffering I endured in the wake of that betrayal was the support my friend garnered from mutual acquaintances who saw my grief and withdrawal from the relationship as the fruit of bitterness and a failure to forgive. The next few years proved a crucible for my faith as, much like Volf, I had to grapple existentially with the dilemma of forgiveness noted above. I didn’t have many resources to help and certainly could have used Smedes’ book, Forgive and Forget, as well as others I’ve more recently found. Instead, voices that flattened out forgiveness—seeing it as either anathema or a piece of cake—only made that process more difficult. Smedes frames the challenge this way: “Forgiving is love’s toughest work, and love’s biggest risk. If you twist it into something it was never meant to be, it can make you a doormat or an insufferable manipulator.”[12]

Love and Forgiveness

Sometimes a word can obscure the complexity of the reality behind it, and my personal experience tells me that’s often the case with forgiveness. I’m drawing my definition of forgiveness from an essay by philosopher Eleonore Stump, where she says forgiveness is an entailment of love, a human obligation.[13] Love, according to Aquinas, is two-fold: (1) a desire for the good of the other and (2) a desire for union with the other. Because these desires are located only within the person harmed, they can be accomplished without any action on the wrongdoer’s part. But Stump is quick to note that desire alone is not sufficient for the realization of the other’s good or for actual union with him or her. Another human agent is involved, and that person’s will and external circumstances may prevent those desires from coming to fruition. It is not good, for example, for either party to remain in a position that gives license for bad behavior to anyone involved. For that reason, forgiveness and reconciliation can, indeed, come apart. Ignoring this distinction is one of many ways that the concept of forgiveness can be watered down.

Before we turn to some more theological considerations, consider first some useful insights Smedes offers in his practical guide to forgiveness. First of all, Smedes emphasizes that forgiveness is a process, at least that’s the case for forgiveness of people who caused us personal, unfair, and deep hurt. Entering into that process requires uncompromising honesty. We cannot forgive harm that we do not acknowledge. As Smedes explains, “There is no real forgiving unless there is first relentless exposure and honest judgment. When we forgive evil we do not excuse it, we do not tolerate it, we do not smother it. We look evil full in the face, call it what it is, let its horror shock and stun and enrage us, and only then do we forgive it.”[14]

Smedes also acknowledges that forgiveness sometimes involves specialized cases—forgiving people who have died, for example. Life’s vagaries and vicissitudes preclude any one-size-fits-all approach that we might try to impose. The road to forgiveness, we find when we embark upon it, is unique to the harm done and to our current conditions. That is not to say we are thus on our own. We can certainly find solace and guidance in the testimony of others who have traveled their own paths of forgiveness, and his use of such stories is one of the best features of Smedes’ book.

When we undergo a crisis of forgiveness, it’s important then whose voices we listen to because of the many pitfalls that lie on that road. Even Christian voices, as previously noted, can sometimes unwittingly make the task of forgiveness much harder by thinning the concept out. I suggest that we see shades of this diminishment whenever the fifth petition of The Lord’s Prayer is isolated from its broader context and—intentionally or not—when it is launched as an accusation toward those who have been harmed. For all the reasons noted above, we need a bigger story of justice and mercy, one that reveals their inextricable link. We find that story in the full context of The Lord’s Prayer, through its bracing description of the human condition, its astonishing portrayal of the God who longs to liberate us, and its audacious plan for our salvation.

[1] Simon Wiesenthal, The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness, Revised and Expanded ed. (New York: Schocken, 1997), 52.

[2] Ibid., 53.

[3] Ibid., 98.

[4] Ibid., 220.

[5] Ibid., 268.

[6] Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1996), 9.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid.

[9] C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, Revised and amplified ed. (New York: Harper, 2001), 116.

[10] Unless otherwise noted, all biblical passages referenced are in the English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2001) biblegateway.com, accessed May 29, 2022.

[11] Lewis Smedes, Forgive and Forget: Healing the Hurts We Don’t Deserve (New York: HarperOne, 1996).

[12] Ibid., xvi.

[13] Eleonore Stump, “The Sunflower: Guilt, Forgiveness, and Reconciliation,” in Forgiveness and Its Moral Dimensions, ed. Brandon Warmke, Dana Kay Nelkin, and Michael McKenna (New York: Oxford UP, 2021), 172-196.

[14] Smedes, 79.

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Marybeth Baggett (associate editor) is professor of English and Cultural Apologetics at Houston Baptist University. She earned her PhD in Literature and Criticism from Indiana University of Pennsylvania, and — along with her husband— recently has published Telling Tales: Intimations of the Sacred in Popular Culture (Moral Apologetics Press, 2021).

The Last Place

My cousin Jay is vacationing on Bald Island. “What’s Bald Island like?’ I wonder. “It’s a tiny island off Carolina Beach, N.C. One takes a ferry to the island; no cars are allowed; one gets around by golf cart. Bald Island is a resort village among forests, sandy beaches with sand dunes and oat grass.”

 Jesus broaches with his disciples the subject of the kingdom of God. They’re intrigued.  What’s it like? Knowing their interest, Jesus asks, “What is the kingdom of God like?”  He reveals to them the Kingdom’s singular code and character. Let me share with you this deep code underneath the Kingdom’s character. Is this code integral to your character?

Jesus reveals to his disciples he’s soon to be rejected, tried, killed, and raised. Physically, he will soon be gone from them. They are to take over His ministry in His absence. The deep code of the Kingdom must undergird their character – and your character.

You are the disciple in His place now. He is speaking to you. You are taking over His ministry in this generation. His ministry must become your ministry. The deep code of the Kingdom underneath Jesus’ character must become yours.

Jesus reveals the Kingdom’s deep, underlying code and illustrates it through parables (stories illustrated with everyday objects and situations). He says, “If any want to come after me, let him deny himself and let him take up his cross daily…Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple” (Luke 9: 23)

What does Jesus mean “deny himself”? For short, denying oneself literally means, consider “your life as already finished”.  Do you reckon yourself already dead? In Charles Dickens’ novel, A Christmas Carol, which we will soon be watching, the hum-bug miser Ebenezer Scrooge has his last Christmas Eve vision. He is taken to the cemetery, and there guided to a particular tombstone. He brushes away the snow where he sees his name inscribed. Aghast, he sees himself already dead. Denying yourself is seeing yourself already dead; your selfish self, the self you privilege, the self you please, the self you put first. Consider yourself now dead…gone…departed. Do you? Will you?

 A disciple not only treats him/herself as dead, the disciple also “takes up his cross daily”.  Every Jew and Roman of Jesus’ day knew the Roman cross. Julius Caesar lined a two hundred mile stretch of road with crosses bearing enemy soldiers. Criminals were forced to carry their own crosses:  they bore the wooden patibulum, the cross piece, over their shoulders to the execution site. If Jesus contemporized it, he might say, “Carry your needle and intravenous line to your lethal injection”.  Do you consider yourself dead? Are you carrying your patibulum? Is the code of the Kingdom yours?

Jesus illustrates the code of Kingdom with the “Parable of the Last Place”.  He is in a Pharisee leader’s home for dinner. Jesus notices the invited guests clamor for the seats of honor. Guests semi-recline on couches arranged around the U-shaped tables. At the bottom of the U, is the most honored couch. The middle position of the couch is the most honored place with the person on the left and then the right venerated in descending order. Jesus sees guests scrambling for these choice seats. Have you ever been to a dinner and noticed you are not seated in an honored seat? How did you feel?

In my early ministry, I attended Paul Popenoe’s American Institute of Family Relations conference in Costa Mesa, California. We lunched in a ballroom of round tables. I looked for the table where my favorite speaker was going to sit. I wanted to ‘pick his brain’, so I plopped myself down in an empty seat near his.  Very soon, a woman came over to me and said in the earshot of all at the table, “Sir, I’m sorry but this seat is reserved.” Did I feel small. I slinked off to find any seat I could.

Jesus turns to those seeking select seats and says, “When you are invited to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor. Someone more distinguished than you may have been invited by him, and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this man’.  In disgrace you will proceed to occupy the last place. But when you are invited, go and recline at the last place.  The host may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will have honor in the sight of all…”

Jesus draws this conclusion: “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”  This is His illustration of the deep code of the Kingdom: deny yourself. Therefore, humble yourself and take “the last place”.  Since you consider yourself dead, take the last place! This is the working out of the deep code.

Why does one seek the place of importance anyway? To exalt oneself; to glorify oneself; to try to increase one’s self-importance, honor, fame, position, power or fortune; or to idolize one’s self.  This, the Bible calls “pride”.  It is grasping glory for oneself and veiled striving to be god.  God condemned Lucifer for saying, “I will make myself like the Most High?” (Isaiah 14: 12).  C. S. Lewis said, “It was through pride that the devil became the devil.”

Are you tempted to increase yourself? This is contrary to the Kingdom’s code. Jesus’ disciple seeks the last place. Who likes last place? It’s the pokey, cramped, unwanted, and scorned place…the place of self-denial and cross carrying (humility).  The early church theologian Augustine said, “The way is first humility, second humility, third humility.”  Consider yourself already dead, carry your patibulum, and then take the last place.

In another parable, Jesus further illustrates the Kingdom’s deep code of “denying himself” and taking “up his cross”.  Jesus says when you give a great dinner, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind. They cannot repay you. When we lived in Bristol, England, a couple in our church, the Bucks, gave a Christmas dinner. They had a large, beautiful, eighteenth-century country house. They invited persons without families, persons alone for Christmas, people displaced, or who had sacrificed along the way: a retired missionary; a bachelor, Methodist minister; and American aliens like us.

What do the guests at the parable’s banquet have in common? They are stricken; physically challenged; and radically dependent on others. They are physical allegories, symbols, of disciples who are spiritually destitute and also radically dependent. Disciples recognize their spiritual deficiency in righteousness and absolute dependency for life upon Jesus Christ. These reckon themselves already dead, carry their patibulums to crucifixion, and take the last place.

Tom Thomas

November 2, 2021

All Soul’s Day

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Tom is currently a retired Elder in the Virginia Annual Conference. He has pastored churches in Virginia, California and England. Studying John Wesley’s theology, he received his Ph.D. and M.A. degrees from the University of Bristol, Bristol, England and his Master of Divinity degree from Asbury Theological Seminary. While a student, he and his wife Pam lived in John Wesley’s Chapel “The New Room”, Bristol, England, the first established Methodist preaching house. Tom was a faculty member of Asbury Theological Seminary. He has contributed articles to Methodist History and the Wesleyan Theological Journal. He and his wife have two children, daughter Karissa, who is an attorney in Richmond, Virginia, and, John, who is a recent graduate of Regent University. Being a part of the development of their grandson Beau is a rich reward. Tom enjoys a good book by a crackling fire with an English cup of tea. His life text is, ‘Jesus, confirm my heart’s desire, to work and speak and think for thee’.

According to His Righteousness

I will praise the Lord according to His righteousness. (Psalm 7:17a)

Have you ever found it difficult to stay focused during a worship service? You should be singing, or agreeing in prayer, or preparing to commune, but all you seem to notice is everything happening around you.

Rather than the words of the song, you notice the voice of the person next to you, or across the sanctuary. They are loud or off-key and you are distracted. Rather than joining your heart to the prayer offered by another, you find yourself counting how many times they say “um” or “just” or some other word or phrase. They appear to stumble through a prayer, and you are distracted. Rather than giving yourself wholly to the moment of communion as you receive the bread and cup, your thoughts turn to how so-and-so sitting in front of you is moving around. They fidget, and you are distracted.

All this opportunity for worship – the singing, the prayer, the communion - and there you are out of focus and out of sorts.

This happens. To all of us. Maybe more than we want to admit.

Yet, on the one hand this is part of worship in an imperfect setting, part of worship this side of heaven. So, a certain amount of distraction is to be expected, even embraced as a reminder that we aren’t in heaven yet.

However, there is something we can do to help with what we find distracting during worship. I don’t mean go across the sanctuary and tell the loud and off-key singer to quiet down. I don’t mean pull aside the one praying with “ums” and “justs” and instruct them in proper address to the Almighty, and I certainly don’t mean grab the shoulder of the person in front of you who struggles to sit still during communion.

What we need to do to overcome distractions is remember that the focus of our worship is on God and His righteousness. There are plenty of times in Scripture when the Lord decides to correct worshipers, and unless He is showing up in your service to correct the singing and praying and communion follies, then perhaps your best approach is to simply ask Him to help you get your eyes off the imperfect around you (and in you) so that you can look to Him and praise Him for who He is.

Sounds simple enough, and you may be tempted to doubt if it works.

It does. I promise.

As a matter of fact, I am quite confident that someone has asked God to help them get their eyes off you during a worship service so that they can better focus on Him. They see you wince over the singing you don’t like. They notice your change in position when the prayer falls into repetitious words. They see you fidget with frustration when someone around you can’t sit still during communion. The same thing they ask of God when they see you and are distracted by you is what we should all ask of Him.

Lord, will you kindly help us praise You according to Your righteousness?

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T. J. Gentry is the Executive Editor of MoralApologetics.com, the Senior Minister at First Christian Church of West Frankfort, IL, and the Co-founder of Good Reasons Apologetics. T. J. has been in Christian ministry since 1984, having served as an itinerant evangelist, youth minister, church planter, pastoral counselor, and Army chaplain. He is the author of numerous books and peer-reviewed articles, including Pulpit Apologist: The Vital Link between Preaching and Apologetics (Wipf and Stock, 2020), You Shall Be My Witnesses: Reflections on Sharing the Gospel (Illative House, 2018), and two forthcoming works published by Moral Apologetics Press: Leaving Calvinism, Finding Grace, and A Moral Way: Aquinas and the Good God. T. J. is a Clinical Pastoral Education Supervisor, holding board-certification as a Pastoral Counselor and a Chaplain. He is a graduate of Southern Illinois University (BA in Political Science), Luther Rice College and Seminary (MA in Apologetics), Holy Apostles College and Seminary (MA in Philosophy), Liberty University (MAR in Church Ministries, MDiv in Chaplaincy, ThM in Theology), Carolina University (DMin in Pastoral Counseling, PhD in Leadership, PhD in Biblical Studies), and the United States Army Chaplain School (Basic and Advanced Courses). He is currently completing his PhD in Theology at North-West University, Potchefstroom, South Africa (2021), his PhD in Theology and Apologetics at Liberty University (2022), and his PhD in Philosophy of Religion at Southern Evangelical Seminary (2024). T. J. married Amy in 1995, and they are blessed with three daughters and two sons. T. J.’s writing and other projects may be viewed at TJGentry.com.

I am Samson (Judges 14)

Samson. Aaah, Samson.

In Judges 14 he comes off the page to me as a larger-than-life contradiction. Read it. I suspect you’ll see it too.

Samson is a true enigma. A man used by God who also appears to use God. At least that’s what it looks like to me. His details in this chapter baffle me, starting with telling his parents to "get her for me" when he decides he wants a wife from the Philistines. Then the tearing apart of the lion, the eating of the honey, the posing of the riddle, the manipulative tears of his wife, the killing of 30 men, and finally Samson gives his wife to his best man. Again, Samson baffles me. 

But then I have to ask why he baffles me. Why do I struggle with Samson?

Is it his insistence on what he wants, even when it is driven by what appears to be a simple lust of the eyes? But I am just like him sometimes. I see with my eyes only, then expect those around me to give me what I want. I am Samson.

Maybe it is the way that God's purposes are working out in Samson, even though the details of his life leave me wondering at times if he even knows God? Then I hear the echo of my own life in that very description...God working through me though sometimes my life does anything but point to Him. I am Samson.

Perhaps my struggle with Samson is the way the power of God flows to and through him even when his choices cause others to suffer? He can't keep his secret from his wife, so 30 men die as a consequence. Yet, I think of the times I preach or teach or counsel--God working through me in each instance. Then I go home and have no patience with my family. I yell at my wife. I justify my selfishness as a matter of collateral damage in service to Jesus. Others suffer as God uses me. I am Samson.

Yes, I am Samson. At least sometimes I am Samson. The funny thing is that the longer I live the more I realize that I can be Samson...I have been Samson...I am Samson, and even still I want to be someone else. I want to be more like Jesus and less like Samson, and that's a good thing. Perhaps a bit simplistic or naive, but still a good thing. Actually, what is good about it is that I see myself in Samson, but I also see God in Samson.

To be sure, Samson's foibles and frailties are his own...his contradictions are his and nobody else's, but those moments of wisdom and power and justice...those are God's. Samson shows me God through his brokenness, and I am grateful. I see the same thing happening in my life. I am Samson.

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T. J. Gentry is the Executive Editor of MoralApologetics.com, the Senior Minister at First Christian Church of West Frankfort, IL, and the Co-founder of Good Reasons Apologetics. T. J. has been in Christian ministry since 1984, having served as an itinerant evangelist, youth minister, church planter, pastoral counselor, and Army chaplain. He is the author of numerous books and peer-reviewed articles, including Pulpit Apologist: The Vital Link between Preaching and Apologetics (Wipf and Stock, 2020), You Shall Be My Witnesses: Reflections on Sharing the Gospel (Illative House, 2018), and two forthcoming works published by Moral Apologetics Press: Leaving Calvinism, Finding Grace, and A Moral Way: Aquinas and the Good God. T. J. is a Clinical Pastoral Education Supervisor, holding board-certification as a Pastoral Counselor and a Chaplain. He is a graduate of Southern Illinois University (BA in Political Science), Luther Rice College and Seminary (MA in Apologetics), Holy Apostles College and Seminary (MA in Philosophy), Liberty University (MAR in Church Ministries, MDiv in Chaplaincy, ThM in Theology), Carolina University (DMin in Pastoral Counseling, PhD in Leadership, PhD in Biblical Studies), and the United States Army Chaplain School (Basic and Advanced Courses). He is currently completing his PhD in Theology at North-West University, Potchefstroom, South Africa (2021), his PhD in Theology and Apologetics at Liberty University (2022), and his PhD in Philosophy of Religion at Southern Evangelical Seminary (2024). T. J. married Amy in 1995, and they are blessed with three daughters and two sons. T. J.’s writing and other projects may be viewed at TJGentry.com.

“Christians Are Hypocrites” Objection: A Response

There are numerous people who indicate the very reason they refuse to go to church or consider Christianity is because Christians fail to practice throughout the week what they preach on Sundays. In other words, Christians are hypocrites. Likewise, consider the response when a Christian leader fails morally—news feeds are quickly flooded with various forms of the “Christians are hypocrites” objection. This is undoubtedly one of the most glaring problems among Christians and one of the most common objections raised against Christianity.

There are at least four points to consider regarding this objection.[1] First, one should admit that Christians do oftentimes behave badly; they fail to live up to the notion that they have been reborn or made new in some sense. It is true that careless living on behalf of Christians gives the outer world grounds for doubting the veridical status of the Christian faith. Actually, this is probably a fair judgment raised against Christians, considering that Jesus himself stated in his Sermon on the Mount that Christians will be known “by their fruits” (Mt. 7:16, 20).

Second, one must consider not the behaviors of Christians themselves as the primary reason for rejecting Christianity, but the founder of the Christian faith himself: Jesus Christ. It is a non sequitur to claim that Christianity is false because Christians behave badly at times. Indeed, their bad behavior is a function of their departing from Christian dictates. However, one cannot put Christianity off simply because his or her Christian neighbors, co-workers, or other acquaintances are behaving badly; this is nothing more than evading the issue, predicated on a sad but common fallacy. Again, when considering whether to accept or reject the Christian faith, one should primarily consider the central figure of Christianity, the founder of the entire movement, Jesus Christ (Heb. 12:2). Are there any complaints about Jesus? Is there anything hypocritical in his life? Where did he fall short morally? Did he do what he promised to do? Has he been raised from the dead? These sorts of questions should be dealt with before one dismisses Christianity altogether.

Third, to illustrate why it is a non sequitur to dismiss Christianity on the basis of Christians living hypocritically, think about the following example:

 Imagine there is a man who hops into his truck each morning and drives around each day, noticing as he goes about his daily business that there are frequently bad drivers who cut him off in traffic and fail to keep other basic traffic laws. We will call this man Scott. Finding this to be a common occurrence each day, Scott begins noticing that virtually every “bad driver” that he encounters is driving a Toyota vehicle of some sort: Sequoia, 4Runner, Highlander, Sienna, RAV4, Tundra, Tacoma, Camry, Corolla, and perhaps worst of all, the Prius. Consequently, in his anger, Scott vows to never purchase a Toyota vehicle of any kind in the future. He completely rejects the Toyota brand because the drivers of Toyota vehicles drive badly.

 One does not have to think hard to see the problem with Scott’s total rejection of the Toyota brand. It simply does not follow that because the drivers of Toyota vehicles drive badly that the entire Toyota brand should be rejected. If Scott is going to reject the Toyota brand, he should do so on some other more central basis (e.g., the reliability of Toyota vehicles, their cost, etc.). Similarly, it does not follow that because Christians behave badly (i.e., live hypocritically at times) that Christianity as a whole should be rejected.

 Fourth, there are many examples of genuine Christians throughout history. Some examples include the apostle Paul, Polycarp, Augustine, William Tyndale, Martin Luther, Adoniram Judson, William Wilberforce, Billy Graham, Ann Judson, Harriet Tubman, Lottie Moon, Fanny Crosby, Corrie ten Boom, and Elisabeth Elliot, among others. Of course, none of these men and women are perfect examples—as Jesus is the only perfect example—but they do demonstrate that authentic Christian living is achievable with God’s help.  

 In sum, even though Christians do behave hypocritically at times, the core of Christianity remains untouched and unmoved by the “Christians are hypocrites” objection. Jesus is both the founder of Christianity and the ultimate standard for how one should live his or her life as a Christian. In order to take issue with Christianity, one has to go after the founder himself—not merely Christians who fail to live up to Christ’s standard. Furthermore, there are past, present, and (by God’s grace) there will be future examples of Christians who authentically live out what they claim to believe.

“[Look] to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2).

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Stephen S. Jordan currently serves as the Campus Pastor at Liberty Christian Academy, after previously serving as a high school Bible teacher at the school for nine years. Dr. Jordan is also a teacher and curriculum developer/editor at Liberty University Online Academy, a Senior Research Fellow and curriculum developer at The Center for Moral Apologetics at Houston Baptist University, and an associate editor at MoralApologetics.com. Prior to these positions, he served as a youth pastor in North Carolina for several years and taught courses at a local Seminary Extension for a year. He possesses four graduate degrees (MAR, MRE, MDiv, ThM) and a PhD in Theology and Apologetics. His doctoral dissertation was on the moral argument, where he argued for the existence of a personal God from morality. Stephen and his wife, along with their four children, reside in Goode, Virginia. In his spare time, he enjoys spending time with his family, being outdoors, fitness, sports, and good coffee/tea.

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[1] This article intends to address the “Christians are hypocrites” objection. Another article would be needed in order to explain why Christians succumb to hypocrisy, and how they can overcome it in their lives.

Book Review of Wade Mullen’s Something’s Not Right: Decoding the Hidden Tactics of Abuse and Freeing Yourself from Its Power

In a dark time in my life, I found myself angered, hurt, and heartbroken by the type of experiences that I had encountered in a previous institution. Like many people, I had been hurt in church before. But I never experienced as much difficulty in finding healing. Drs. David and Marybeth Baggett were God-sent to help me find a pathway to healing. They ministered to me and expressed their concern for the hurt that I was feeling. Marybeth mentioned a couple of books that I might find interesting. One was a work by Wade Mullen entitled Something’s Not Right: Decoding the Hidden Tactics of Abuse and Freeing Yourself from Its Power. The book proved extremely beneficial to me as it explained the hurt that I had experienced. I realized that I was not alone. For the remainder of this article, I would like to provide a review of Mullen’s work. First, I will offer a summary of Something’s Not Right, then I will identify the strengths of the book, before concluding with some personal reflections.

Summary

Wade Mullen writes for those who have suffered from institutional abuse and for those who think they may be currently experiencing it. Mullen writes from his own dealings with it, having suffered from his own encounters with institutional abuse. Mullen reflects that he knew that something was not right (hence, the title of the book), but neither he nor his family had suffered from sexual or physical abuse.[1] Yet it was clear to him that he and his family had suffered some form of abuse. He later realized that he had suffered from institutional abuse—that is, suffering from the oppressive and bullying nature of organizations that permit narcissistic dictators to emotionally harm those under their care.

By Mullen, Wade

Mullen draws his argument from the field of impression management and the research of Erving Goffman. Goffman defines impression management as the process of “creating, influencing, or manipulating an image held by an audience.”[2] Making a comparison to a stage play, the author contends that impression management tactics take on an abusive and unethical nature when “the front-stage persona is used to hide truths that ought not to be hidden.”[3] The actor(s) adjust the performance when problems arise to keep the audience engaged but never attempt to resolve the inner problems, or actors, causing the abuse. Everything becomes much more about image than character.

Mullen further inquires, why do institutions and individuals, though they may have begun with good intentions, operate in such a manner? The answer is simple: power. Mullen contends, “The chief desire of abusive individuals and organizations is to attain or retain power—most often the kind of power gained and held firm through deception.” Through the remainder of the book, Mullen describes the tactics by which abusers use impression management to attain or retain their power. He identifies the use of charm, dismantling the victim’s internal and external world, intimidation used to silence victims, walls of defense,[4] disingenuous apologies to save the image of the abuser or institution,[5] and demonstrations.[6]

Strengths

Mullen’s book is a much-needed resource due to the rising number of institutional cases of abuse. His book features numerous strengths. But for the sake of space, we will consider three. First, Mullen provides compelling examples of institutional abuse. Some may wonder whether institutional abuse even, exists, but, in a clear and winsome fashion, Something’s Not Right exposes the problem of institutional abuse and offers examples to show its malevolent practice. In the pages of Mullen’s book, the reader may find oneself reflecting on personal examples of the very practices that Mullen describes. The book is relevant for those who have suffered from abuse in the church, universities, businesses, and other institutions. Earnest readers will be left with a clear depiction of the reality of institutional abuse.

Second, Mullen exposes the methodology of institutional abuse. The illustration of a stage play is quite telling as it covers the array of organizations that may be guilty of abuse. Quite to the point, institutions that permit abuse do not desire to expose the interior problems. Some may conclude that the institution does not want to expose skeletons in the closet. Yet when those skeletons are permitted to continue to harm, they need to be exposed if institutional healing is to take place, the abuse is to be eliminated, and the victims healed. Abusive institutions are more concerned with image than character.

Finally, the book diagnoses the root moral problem behind institutional abuse. Simply put, the assignment of primacy to self-serving power drives people within institutions to abuse individuals. Such power also drives institutions to permit such behavior as the institution desires to perpetuate its influence in the community. Unrestrained power is not concerned with a utilitarian ethic, neither is it concerned with the wellbeing of others. Rather, Mullen shows that those whose primary or only ethical standard is acquisition and consolidation of power will only be concerned with what others can do to help retain their status or position. Readers should be driven to promote transparency within the establishments with which they are associated. Institutions that have nothing to hide will not mind sharing their internal workings.

Reflections

Two critiques can be offered at this point. First, it is possible that genuine repentance could come while trying to salvage the institution in question. While I fully agree with Mullen’s concerns about institutions trying to sweep former events under the rug, I also believe there comes a point that the institution and person must move on from events that occurred. While the abusive situation should never be forgotten, rehashing scandals of the past can prove harmful to the person who was victimized. Particularly for those suffering from PTSD, continual discussions of past harms and abuses can prove detrimental to the victims, just as much as not discussing them enough. Delicacy and discernment are the needed antidote.

For instance, with the greatest of intentions, I continued talking to a couple who suffered from mental impediments about safeguarding themselves from people who tried to take advantage of them financially. They had previously been persuaded to buy a computer that was well out of their price range and, quite honestly, was not worth the price. While my intentions were noble, my continued discussions brought back the pain of their victimization. Thus, an institution needs to do everything possible to make amends for abusive behaviors and resolve systemic problems permitting abuse to occur. But there might come a point at which further dwelling on past wrongdoings reaches a point of diminishing return.

Second, Mullen’s work raises the matter of forgiveness. It is not his main focus here, although he does end the book with a section on it. It obviously is a highly important matter, as Mullen would be the first to agree. One issue concerning forgiveness is what happens if the guilty party never asks for forgiveness? An abuse victim’s exit from the situation of abuse is important, but what about this matter of forgiveness when there isn’t repentance? Such a scenario is, sadly, not uncommon. Abusers more often make excuses for their abusive behaviors than come clean, repent, and ask for forgiveness.

What can an abused person do spiritually if reconciliation with the abuser doesn’t happen? The biblical answer is that a forgiving stance is still required. Jesus pleaded for the forgiveness of those who were crucifying him (Luke 23:34). This kind of forgiveness does not mean that the abuser and abusive systems are never held accountable for his or her actions. Abusive institutional and systemic systems must be corrected and reformed, as evidenced by Jesus’s overturning of the tables in the temple. Again, forgiveness most certainly does not indicate that a person remains in an ongoing abusive situation. Remember, Jesus told the disciples to wipe the dust off their feet while leaving a town that rejects them (Luke 10:10-11).

Still, forgiveness is vitally important, and it is just as much about one’s walk with God and peaceful mindset as it is for the guilty party. As someone once said, “Holding a grudge is like trying to poison another by drinking the poison yourself.”

In the context of chronic and acidic abuse, however, it is also important to remember that abusers, especially within religious contexts, are often adept at exploiting the rhetoric of forgiveness and “moving on” to conceal their culpability, avoid accountability, and sometimes even perpetuate abuse. So while we must endeavor to retain a forgiving stance, forgiving others as we have been forgiven, we must also resist disingenuous efforts by abusers to wrap the cloak of religious legitimacy around efforts to evade responsibility and continue mistreatment under a new, and perniciously religious, guise.

Conclusion

Wade Mullen’s book Something’s Not Right is a must-read. I give the book five stars out of five. The book effectively illustrates the abusive tactics found in unhealthy organizations while also recognizing the importance of spiritual healing. More cases of institutional abuse are being revealed in churches, universities, and denominations. To counter the abuse, one needs to first recognize unhealthy patterns found within institutions as well as practices by abusive individuals. Mullen’s work will prove to be an essential tool in doing just that. Regardless of whether you have suffered abuse, suspect abuse, or desire to know more about institutional abuse, Mullen’s book is a tour de force on the topic. I would suggest supplementing Something’s Not Right with Diane Langberg’s work Redeeming Power. Additionally, I would also recommend Os Guinness's book God in the Dark along with In Search of a Confident Faith, co-written by J. P. Moreland and Klaus Issler, to learn more about overcoming barriers to faith after being victimized by abusive power structures.

About the Author

Brian G. Chilton is the founder of BellatorChristi.com, the host of The Bellator Christi Podcast, the author of the Layman’s Manual on Christian Apologetics, and a Ph.D. Candidate of the Theology and Apologetics program at Liberty University. He received his Master of Divinity in Theology from Liberty University (with high distinction); his Bachelor of Science in Religious Studies and Philosophy from Gardner-Webb University (with honors); and received certification in Christian Apologetics from Biola University. Brian is a member of the Evangelical Theological Society and the Evangelical Philosophical Society. Brian has served in pastoral ministry for nearly 20 years and currently serves as a clinical chaplain, an editor for the Eleutheria Journal, and an Associate Editor for MoralApologetics.com.

https://www.amazon.com/Laymans-Manual-Christian-Apologetics-Essentials/dp/1532697104

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[1] Wade Mullen, Something’s Not Right: Decoding the Hidden Tactics of Abuse and Freeing Yourself from Its Power (Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale Momentum, 2020), 1.

[2] Ibid., 9; Erving Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (New York, NY: Anchor, 2008).

[3] Mullen, Something’s Not Right, 12.

[4] The four walls of defense include denials, excuses, justifications, and comparisons. Ibid., 102.

[5] This includes the unwillingness to condemn the abuser’s actions, appeasing the situation, excusing behavior, justifying one’s own actions by claiming that the victim in some ways bears the burden of guilt, self-promotion, and sympathy. Ibid., 149.

[6] Demonstrations include actions that does only what is necessary to survive that scandal rather than making amends for the abuse that occurred. Ibid., 162.

Lord's Supper Meditation: Death and Renewal

A Twilight Musing 

           The Catholic doctrine of the Lord's Supper holds that it re-enacts the sacrifice of Christ on the cross each time it is observed, even to the point of the substance of the bread and wine being turned into the actual body and blood of Christ.  Protestants have correctly rejected that doctrine in its most literal form, but the idea has relevance to what we ought to experience in the observance of this symbolic feast.  If we give ourselves over to the action of God's presence in our lives as we partake of the Lord's Supper, He will enable us repeatedly to sacrifice our bodies so that they are put to death and renewed in service to Him.  Paul admonishes Christians to “present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship” (Rom. 12:1).

           The Lord’s Supper, then, serves to focus our thoughts more effectively on what it means to die with Christ and to be raised to "newness of life."  I think the most memorable scripture to encapsulate this concept is Gal. 2:20: "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me."  When we take the bread, we embrace the sacrifice of our sinful desires by applying to ourselves what Jesus did on the cross.  Though we continue to exist in these fleshly shells in order to serve Him on this earth as long as He chooses, they are not the real "us."  Paul goes on to say, "The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God."  Imprisoned as we are by "this body of death" (Rom. 7:24), the only way that we can describe our existence on this earth as life is by faith that God has instilled His life in us through what Christ did on the cross.  Thus, as we partake of the wine, we affirm anew that though we are dead, yet we live through the life-giving blood of Christ.

           The transformation that occurs in our partaking of the Lord’s Supper is not in the elements of bread and wine, but in ourselves.  Through the Holy Spirit within us, God empowers us to transcend these sinful and frail bodies and to complete joyfully and purposefully whatever He has set for us to do while we are yet in this world.

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Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife in Jackson, MI. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. Recently, Dr. Higgs has self-published a collection of his poetry called Probing Eyes: Poems of a Lifetime, 1959-2019, as well as a book inspired by The Screwtape Letters, called The Ichabod Letters, available as an e-book from Moral Apologetics. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable.

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Living HOPE: Pastoral Counseling and the Resurrection of Jesus

Introduction: Hurt and Hope

When reflecting upon nearly forty years of a pastoral ministry carried out in numerous forms and contexts, two recurring realities emerge as most prominent in my experience. First, people are often profoundly troubled and deeply hurting amid the moral chaos and cultural decay of a sin-stricken world, resulting in a brokenness that reaches to the deepest recesses of the human mind and heart. Second, the gospel—the hopeful proclamation of the now-and-not-yet kingdom of God as manifested in the deity, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ—is the greatest source of healing for individuals, families, churches, and cultures.[1] In a word, the world is profoundly out of sorts and only Jesus can set it to rights. It is the concomitance of these two concerns which provide much of the context and content of what has become something of a specialized focus in my ministry, namely the ongoing need (even demand) for competent, biblically based, gospel centric pastoral counseling. Bearing this in mind, the following reflection is offered as a brief introduction to a model of pastoral counseling utilizing the acrostic HOPE (Hear the Pain; Optimize Passional Reason: Proclaim the Gospel; Emphasize the Resurrection). Of particular significance for this model is that it gives principal place to the implications of the resurrection and moral transformation in the caregiving process. The intention is to demonstrate vis-à-vis a notional scenario derived from real counseling experiences how the resurrection provides a key component in helping broken people experience moral transformation and lasting wholeness.

H: Hear the Pain

Scenario: Randy walked into the pastor’s office with a look of consternation on his face and a certain slowness in his step. The appointment was scheduled the prior Sunday after Randy asked for prayer at the conclusion of the service. The pastor had heard a certain familiar pain in Randy’s voice, so he offered to not only pray that day, but to meet in person for a follow-up counseling discussion. Randy was happy to accept the offer, and now he stood in the office. “Sit down, Randy,” said the pastor, “and tell me what’s on your mind.” Randy sat opposite the pastor’s desk and, after an opening prayer by the pastor, began to share his story. Moment by moment, hurt by hurt, Randy recounted his experience with Post Traumatic Stress precipitated by several tours of combat in Iraq. The pastor listened intently, careful not to interrupt and trying to avoid anything like a leading question; his concern was to give Randy ample space and time to tell his story, and it was quite a story. At one point the emotion in Randy’s voice became heightened and he burst into tears as he recounted the loss of several dear friends during a combat operation gone awry. It was clear that Randy was hurting, and the pastor was glad Randy was able to get the hurt out into the open in the safety of a counseling session.

Discussion: All counseling begins with listening, or at least it should.[2] It is when the pastor listens without leading or stifling responses, that the counselee can paint the picture of the problem that brought them to seek help. As the counselor listens, there are two goals: 1) establish with the counselee that the pastor wants to hear before responding, to listen before counseling; and 2) to give the pastor a sense of the depth of the pain involved in the situation and what related matters may need to be addressed later and/or may justify a referral to caregivers with relevant expertise. Further, hearing the person’s pain may involve more than one session where the counselor offers little by way of input, opting to show support by listening intently and for as long as it takes to get the counselee to the place where their burden is sufficiently expressed and understood.[3] Again, counseling begins with listening, with hearing the pain.

O: Optimize Passional Reason

Scenario: After talking for nearly an hour without interruption, Randy began to quiet himself, finally coming to a point of asking, “Pastor, what can I do to get through this pain?” After a thoughtful pause before answering, the pastor replied with a question of his own. “Randy, what do you think would help you?” Seeming a bit frustrated, Randy responded, “I’m not sure. That’s why I’m talking to you, pastor. I need your help.” After another pause, the pastor stated, “Randy, thank you for trusting me with your pain. What I heard as you recounted losing your friends was two things. First, your emotions are up and down, high and low, and I suspect you are unable to find a balance most of the time. Second, there are a few areas in your explanation and evaluation of what you are going through that are a bit out of sorts with what is true.” Randy looked intently at the pastor, nodding slightly. The pastor continued, “Randy, getting to the place of wholeness involves both how you think and how you feel—not one or the other, but both. My goal is to help you think and feel your way through this issue. I want you to learn to check your feelings with your reason, and to allow your reason to be properly informed by your feelings.”

Discussion: Much of what constitutes a counselee’s burden is a mismatch between facts and feelings, between reason and emotions. However, the counselor must not assume that feelings are always wrong, or that the answer to the counselee’s problem is simply a matter of clearer thinking. It is imperative to recall that humans form beliefs based on a combination of reason and emotion, with both coming together and each informing the other so that the whole person comes to a particular conviction or position with their head and their heart. This confluence of reason and emotions in relation to forming beliefs is called passional reason,[4] and counselors who learn to optimize it in the counseling process are more likely to see holistic transformation encompassing noetic and affective capacities in the counselee. Thus, when a counselor begins to engage the counselee’s story, he should look for instances of misshapen thoughts and feelings and explain to the counselee that both areas will be addressed during the counseling process. Lest this point seem to call for some type of specialized knowledge on the part of the pastor, consider that with or without the nomenclature of passional reason there is an intuitive sense that thinking and feeling are fundamental aspects of being human. Thus, optimizing passional reason is simply another way of inviting the counselee to experience wholeness as a “whole” person, beginning with their thoughts and feelings.

P: Proclaim the Gospel

Scenario: Randy sat for a moment, then asked, “So what you’re saying, pastor, is that my head and my heart need healing?” “Correct,” replied the pastor, “and that healing begins with hearing one more time something I know you already believe with all your mind and heart.” After sitting quietly for another moment, Randy replied, “What do I need to hear, pastor?” Looking intently at Randy, the pastor spoke with passion and clarity, “Randy, Jesus is Lord. He died and rose again. He loves you, and because he rose again and overcame death, he can and will help you overcome your pain and grief.” After letting those words of the gospel settle onto Randy for a moment, the pastor continued, “Randy, am I right? Do you believe the gospel with all your heart and mind? Do you believe that Jesus is Lord, and that he died for you, rose again for you, and is right now at his Father’s right hand, praying for you?” With tears in his eyes, his voice breaking, Randy replied, “Yes, pastor, I do believe those things.” “Good, Randy,” replied the pastor, “because the Jesus’ resurrection is essential to your wholeness and healing.”

Discussion: What makes Christian counseling unique is not method but focus. The Christian counselor’s ultimate point of reference from beginning to end of the caregiving process is the message of the gospel.[5] While the pastor’s counsel may include more than the gospel, it certainly should never leave out the gospel. In this sense, pastoral counseling is evangelical counseling, which is to say that it is counseling through the lens of the evangel, the good news, the gospel. Thus, in the notional scenario the pastor has laid the groundwork by hearing the pain of the counselee and optimizing passional reason as the epistemic pathway to wholeness. Now enters the gospel, which encapsulates all the hope the counselee seeks. While there may be varied approaches to proclaiming the gospel and different points of emphasis by its proclaimers, what is fundamental to the Christian path to remedy is the declaration of the deity, death, and resurrection of King Jesus. It is not enough to assume that because counseling is Christian that the gospel is clear. Rather, the pastor has the privilege and necessity to proclaim the gospel to his counselee, thereby given center place to the lordship of Jesus over death and the grave as his resurrection is highlighted as the ultimate demonstration of victory in place of defeat.

E: Emphasize the Resurrection

Scenario: Randy continued to listen as he leaned forward in his chair and drew a bead on the pastor with his eyes. The pastor continued, “Randy, the healing you seek in your mind and heart will take time, but it is possible because of Jesus’ victory over the grave. What we will do going forward is sort of like taking a tube of antibiotic cream and applying and reapplying it to an open wound, except in this instance the wound is your Post Traumatic Stress, and the antibiotic cream is the resurrection.” Randy thought for a moment, then asked, “Pastor, exactly how does that work? I mean, how do I apply the resurrection to my situation?” After a pause, the pastor replied, “Think of it like this. You told me that lately you struggle most with a feeling of hopelessness when you think of how your heart seems to know only an aching sense of despair. You wonder if it is possible to ever get past the hurt and loss.” Randy nodded in agreement. “Your homework is to write down on a card that you will carry with you at all times the following: ‘But if the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you.’ That is Romans 8:11, and it is a powerful reminder that the Spirit is at work in you giving you the life—the same life—that brought Jesus from the dead. His resurrection is your victory, and as often as you find yourself struggling with the thoughts of despair you must apply the hope of the gospel to your situation. Over time you will come to experience a change in your outlook as your mind learns that the hopeless thought is a trigger to the hope of the resurrection. This is how you can do what Paul said later in Romans 12:2, ‘be transformed by the renewing of your mind.’” A smile came to Randy’s face, the first one the pastor had seen since the session began. “Pastor,” Randy said with confidence, “I know I have a long way to go, but I’m starting to think and feel like I can get there with your help…with Jesus’ help. His resurrection is my hope.” “You are right, Randy, there is hope because of Jesus’ resurrection.”

Discussion: As an example of the blending of methods from cognitive behavior therapy and the hope of the Christian gospel that flows from the resurrection, what the pastor offers is an approach to healing the mind and emotions with the truth of Scripture that capitalizes on neuroplasticity and trigger thoughts/words.[6] Again, just as with passional reason, so with this aspect of pastoral counseling there is no need for the pastor to be an expert in various counseling modalities. Rather, through a simple and consistent process of learning to correct thoughts and feelings with the hope of the resurrection, the pastor can lead the counselee along the path of a renewed mind and heart. In the notional scenario discussed here, the pastor would continue to help Randy apply the truths of God’s Word, and especially the message of Jesus’ resurrection to the thoughts and feelings that are out of sync with the Spirit’s work in sanctification. This would happen over numerous counseling sessions and periodic check ups thereafter.

Conclusion: Hope Lives Because Jesus Arose

Although only briefly, this discussion has considered how the resurrection can play a significant role in pastoral counseling. While a more complete exploration of the topic merits far more space, this is offered as a start to an important topic for Christian counseling. By utilizing the HOPE acrostic, the notional scenario illustrates how a pastor may combine elements of cognitive behavior therapy with the gospel message of the deity, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The counselor hears the counselee’s pain, optimizes passional reason, proclaims the gospel, and emphasizes the resurrection in ways that help the counselee apply the truth of Jesus’ victory over death to their struggles and shortcomings. Indeed, because of the resurrection, hope lives in a tangible and powerful way through the work of pastoral counseling.

Bibliography

Collins, Gary R. The Biblical Basis of Christian Counseling for People Helpers: Relating the Basic Teachings of Scripture to People’s Problems. Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2001.

Kollar, Charles Allen. Solution-Focused Pastoral Counseling: An Effective Short-Term Approach for Getting People Back on Track. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2011.

Shields, Harry, and Gary Bredfeldt. Caring for Souls: Counseling Under the Authority of Scripture. Chicago: Moody, 2001.

Wainwright, William J. Reason and the Heart: A Prolegomenon to a Critique of Passional Reason. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995.

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[1] Cf. 1 Cor. 15:3-4. Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotes are from The Holy Bible: New King James Version (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1982).

[2] For a discussion of the importance of listening to the counselee, see Harry Shields and Gary Bredfeldt, Caring for Souls: Counseling Under the Authority of Scripture (Chicago: Moody, 2001), 179-180.

[3] Charles Allen Kollar, Solution-Focused Pastoral Counseling: An Effective Short-Term Approach for Getting People Back on Track, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2011), 79-88.

[4] William J. Wainwright, Reason and the Heart: A Prolegomenon to a Critique of Passional Reason (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1995), 1-6.

[5] Gary R. Collins, The Biblical Basis of Christian Counseling for People Helpers: Relating the Basic Teachings of Scripture to People’s Problems (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2001), 3-11.

[6] Shields and Bredfeldt, Caring for Souls, 193-223.

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T. J. Gentry is the Executive Editor of MoralApologetics.com, the Senior Minister at First Christian Church of West Frankfort, IL, and the Co-founder of Good Reasons Apologetics. T. J. has been in Christian ministry since 1984, having served as an itinerant evangelist, youth minister, church planter, pastoral counselor, and Army chaplain. He is the author of numerous books and peer-reviewed articles, including Pulpit Apologist: The Vital Link between Preaching and Apologetics (Wipf and Stock, 2020), You Shall Be My Witnesses: Reflections on Sharing the Gospel (Illative House, 2018), and two forthcoming works published by Moral Apologetics Press: Leaving Calvinism, Finding Grace, and A Moral Way: Aquinas and the Good God. T. J. is a Clinical Pastoral Education Supervisor, holding board-certification as a Pastoral Counselor and a Chaplain. He is a graduate of Southern Illinois University (BA in Political Science), Luther Rice College and Seminary (MA in Apologetics), Holy Apostles College and Seminary (MA in Philosophy), Liberty University (MAR in Church Ministries, MDiv in Chaplaincy, ThM in Theology), Carolina University (DMin in Pastoral Counseling, PhD in Leadership, PhD in Biblical Studies), and the United States Army Chaplain School (Basic and Advanced Courses). He is currently completing his PhD in Theology at North-West University, Potchefstroom, South Africa (2021), his PhD in Theology and Apologetics at Liberty University (2022), and his PhD in Philosophy of Religion at Southern Evangelical Seminary (2024). T. J. married Amy in 1995, and they are blessed with three daughters and two sons. T. J.’s writing and other projects may be viewed at TJGentry.com.

Lord’s Supper Meditation: Frailty and Fruitfulness

A Twilight Musing

                      A grain of wheat and a grape are fragile fruits.  By themselves they will neither greatly nourish nor produce fruit, but if either one is combined with others of its kind, the aggregate of them can be transformed into food and drink that will sustain us and make our hearts glad.  And if either one is planted as a seed, it will be fruitful and produce more of its kind.

           Jesus spoke explicitly about the spiritual implications of a grain of wheat being planted: in order to bear fruit, it must die to what it is and be transformed into something else—must die in order to achieve its full potential of life.  Even if it is joined with others and made into bread, it must endure the transmutation into flour.  The grape also finds its larger purpose in being crushed into juice to make a drink or to flavor some food.  Either the grain of wheat or the grape loses some of its potential if it is consumed by itself.

           As we partake of these products of wheat and grapes which have been changed in a natural way, we do well to remember that we as individual “grains and grapes” must be ready to be transformed spiritually into what God can make of us together, as well as being acutely aware of what that requires of us as individuals.  Jesus Himself did not pull back from going through death in order to become our Redeemer, knowing that there was no way to be what God needed Him to be except to lose all that He was.  When we share these symbols of His body and blood, we are renewing our consent to be continually transformed from puny “grains and grapes” into the Body of Christ, not as that body walked the earth, nor even as it hung on the cross and was buried, but as it was raised to perfect and nourishing Life, filling all of us with that divine power which brings us together in Him.

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Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife in Jackson, MI. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. Recently, Dr. Higgs has self-published a collection of his poetry called Probing Eyes: Poems of a Lifetime, 1959-2019, as well as a book inspired by The Screwtape Letters, called The Ichabod Letters, available as an e-book from Moral Apologetics. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable.

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Healing from Institutional Abuse

A cabin was nestled near the top of a mountaintop in the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. This cabin served as a vacation home for my family and me. The evening was humid and muggy. Thus, we decided to take in a show in Pigeon Forge rather than exploring the beautiful hills of eastern Tennessee. On this evening, I would suffer an emotional and spiritual panic attack. The catalyst of the event was various reports of institutional abuse. One report discussed alleged cases of rape that went unreported. Other reports mentioned accusations of abuse from a person who would be the last person one would suspect of such behaviors.

Admittedly, I have suffered from bouts of anxiety in the past. Normally, I can sense when a bout of anxiety is about to commence. But in this case, it was as if I felt an overwhelming case of sorrow and distress. After requesting prayer on social media, I was blessed by the numerous supporters offering their prayers and encouragement. Many friends contacted me directly, whereas many others offered support online. It was heartwarming to see how many people truly cared. But this event left me curious as to why I would suffer such distress while on vacation of all places.

It was not until a few days afterward that I realized that the pain I had previously suffered in the pastorate was still unresolved. I still didn’t understand why I felt the way I did. Drs. David and Marybeth Baggett reached out to me. I spoke to them about my feelings and what I believed to be the culprit. Marybeth suggested two books for me to consider reading. The first was entitled Something’s Not Right: Decoding the Hidden Tactics of Abuse and Freeing Yourself from its Power by Wade Mullen. The other was Redeeming Power: Understanding Authority and Abuse in the Church by Diane Langberg.

Mullen’s book truly spoke to me. He mentioned a field of sociological research known as impression management. Canadian sociologist Erving Goffman described impression management as the “process of creating, influencing, or manipulating an image held by an audience.”[1] Impression management especially becomes abusive and unethical when people are put on display to hide underlying problems that should not be hidden.[2] Mullen further notes that “the chief desire of abusive individuals is to attain or retain power—most often the kind of power gained and held through deception.”[3] Because of this, churches can become a breeding ground for abusers to thrive.

But why do religious institutions allow such abuse to transpire? Mullen offers a reason for this as well. He says that many institutions unknowingly permit systems that are conducive for abuse because of image. If people were to know the problems that a place faced, then others may not want to come and take part of what the institution offered.[4] As I read Mullen’s opening chapter, I began to realize two things. First, I came to the realization that I had suffered a form of abuse. Speaking with numerous individuals who were concerned with my well-being, I met many who admitted that they were victims of various forms of abuse. They faced similar emotional and spiritual bouts, some of which were full-blown cases of PTSD. Their professed experiences were eerily reminiscent of my own. Second, I came to realize that institutional abuse, identified as impression management, was far more widespread than I ever considered.

The first step in healing is to first diagnose the source of pain. I cannot say that I am fully healed from the abuse that I encountered. But I do believe that I have taken the first step. Perhaps God permitted me to have this emotional episode to bring me to the place of genuine recovery. Whatever the case, I also believe that many others are facing the same issues but do not understand where their emotional and spiritual hurts derive.

So, where do we go from here? I will occasionally update you on my progress from time to time. But there are two suggestions I would make for the here and now. First, become grounded in theology and apologetics. As my good friend Jerry Bogacz said, apologetics becomes an anchor keeping one stable during times of emotional distress. While it is not understood why I endured some of the things that I have in ministry, all the while understanding my own faults[5]—the goodness of God is a constant wellspring of hope and a constant source of comfort.

Second, cases of institutional abuse must be exposed and corrected. We can no longer stand idly by while innocent people are harmed by abusers hiding behind crosses and policies. The prophet Isaiah writes, “Learn to do what is good. Pursue justice. Correct the oppressor. Defend the rights of the fatherless. Plead the widow’s cause” (Isaiah 1:17).[6] Also, consider that Jesus told the Church of Ephesus that they must “Remember how far you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. Otherwise, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent” (Rev. 2:5). While I have had an enigmatic relationship with the church throughout my life, I still love Christ’s Bride. If the problems of abuse in the American Church are not corrected, we should not be surprised if Jesus may eventually remove the lampstand from the Church of America. Be on the lookout for future posts as I discover more truths on my pathway to recovery. Continue to deepen your love for God and be kind to one another.

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Brian G. Chilton is the founder of BellatorChristi.com, the host of The Bellator Christi Podcast, the author of the Layman’s Manual on Christian Apologetics, and a Ph.D. Candidate of the Theology and Apologetics program at Liberty University. He received his Master of Divinity in Theology from Liberty University (with high distinction); his Bachelor of Science in Religious Studies and Philosophy from Gardner-Webb University (with honors); and received certification in Christian Apologetics from Biola University. Brian is a member of the Evangelical Theological Society and the Evangelical Philosophical Society. Brian has served in pastoral ministry for nearly 20 years and currently serves as a clinical chaplain and a Senior Contributor for MoralApologetics.com.

https://www.amazon.com/Laymans-Manual-Christian-Apologetics-Essentials/dp/1532697104

© 2021. BellatorChristi.com.

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[1] Erving Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (New York, NY: Anchor, 2008); Wade Mullen, Something’s Not Right: Decoding the Hidden Tactics of Abuse and Freeing Yourself from its Power (Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale Momentum, 2020), 9.

[2] Mullen, 12.

[3] Ibid., 15.

[4] Mullen calls this “dark secrets…facts a person or an organization knows and conceals because if they were revealed, they could damage the image of that person or organization.” Ibid, 17.

[5] By no means am I claiming that I was sinless in all my previous encounters.

[6] Unless otherwise noted, all quoted Scripture comes from the Christian Standard Bible (Nashville, TN: Holman, 2020).

Why God May Place More on Us Than We Can Endure

Have you ever heard the phrase, “God will not place more on you than you can endure.” Another way of phrasing the statement is by saying “God will not place more on you than you can bear.” Christians are known for such platitudes. These cliches are well-intentioned as they do not come from malice. Rather, they come from an attempt to condense Christian truths into short, memorable memes or Twitter-worthy statements. But is it true that God will not place more on us than we can bear/endure?

A careful reading of Scripture shows this not to be the case. For instance, Paul writes to the Church of Corinth, “We don’t want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, of our affliction that took place in Asia. We were completely overwhelmed—beyond our strength—so that we even despaired of life itself. 9 Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death, so that we would not trust in ourselves but in God who raises the dead. 10 He has delivered us from such a terrible death, and he will deliver us. We have put our hope in him that he will deliver us again 11 while you join in helping us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gift that came to us through the prayers of many” (2 Cor. 1:8-11).[1] Did you catch the phrase in verse 8, “We were completely overwhelmed—beyond our strength.” From the passage of Scripture, it can be adduced that Paul and his companions were allowed to be tested in a manner that was beyond their ability to handle. This counters the thought behind the aforementioned platitude. It appears that the benevolent God of creation does allow his children to endure hardships that exceed their ability to stand for three reasons.

Affliction Provides the Ability to Comfort (1:3-4, 6-7)

Back in verses 3-4, Paul writes, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. 4 He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God” (2 Cor. 1:3-4). He continues by saying, “If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation. If we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings that we suffer. 7 And our hope for you is firm, because we know that as you share in the sufferings, so you will also share in the comfort” (2 Cor. 1:6-7). Paul says that their afflictions serve as an example to others. By their suffering and affliction, they are better able to minister to the suffering and afflicted.

Paul denotes a truth that was foreign to the Greco-Roman world in that suffering is not always a bad thing. David Garland writes, “Suffering comes for anyone who preaches the gospel in a world twisted by sin and roused by hostility to God. If God’s apostle experienced so much distress in carrying out his commission, then we can see that God does not promise prosperity or instant gratification even to the most devoted of Christ’s followers.”[2] Roman philosophy presented a different view of their gods. Roman philosopher Cicero believed that the gods produced health, wealth, and security, certainly not affliction.[3] Oddly, many modern Christian circles resemble Roman philosophy more than Christian theology.

Since God is the epitome of the Good, he holds good reasons for permitting afflictions, even those that overwhelm us. Later, the faithful child of God will realize that they were only able to minister to those in need because of, not despite, the afflictions they were allowed to endure. The late Dr. Randy Kilby used to say at Fruitland Baptist Bible Institute, “You have to get under the spout where the glory comes out.” By that, he noted that the child of God can only spiritually give what they have been given. Thus, the comfort they receive from God can be used to minister to others in need.

Affliction Portrays God’s Strength (1:5)

Furthermore, Paul holds that overwhelming affliction demonstrates God’s strength working through the believer. Paul writes, “For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so also through Christ our comfort overflows” (1:5). God may allow a person to experience overwhelming problems so that God’s strength is shown through that person. Paul held out hope that as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so also the blessings of God will overflow. Paul noted to the Roman Church that “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is going to be revealed in us” (Rom. 8:18). That is to say, faithfully enduring hardships while remaining faithful to Christ produces a wealth of rewards that will be fully demonstrated in heaven.

It is often thought that the most important Christians in heaven are those who have the fattest wallets, the fanciest suits, and the biggest homes. However, God’s kingdom is an upside-down kingdom as fully illustrated in Jesus’s Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31). On the one hand, the story holds that the man faithful man named Lazarus—though he was poor, downtrodden, and abused by the world—would be greatly rewarded in eternity. On the other hand, a rich man who had everything that money could buy but who neither had any love and compassion for his fellow man nor God landed in the most precarious of eternal circumstances.

But why did a good God design the world in this manner? Paul later answers the question in 2 Corinthians. In chapter 12, he describes an instance where he pleaded with the Lord to remove a thorn in his flesh. He begged the Lord three times to remove his affliction. However, the Lord responded by saying, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9). Consider why God chose Israel. The Hebrew people were not mighty like the Egyptians or Philistines. However, through Israel, God’s power was exhibited to the world (Gen. 12:1-3). Bethlehem Ephrathah was chosen as the birthplace of the Messiah even though it was a small and minute town on the edge of nowhere (Micah 5:2). As the prophet Zechariah noted, “‘Not by strength or by might, but by my Spirit,’ says the Lord of Armies” (Zech. 4:6). Overwhelming affliction may be used by God to demonstrate his power through his vessel to others as an evangelistic tool.

Affliction Promotes Divine Trust (1:8-11)

Finally, affliction promotes divine faith and trust in the Sovereign God. Verse 9 is critical in understanding the passage. Paul denotes that “we felt that we had received the sentence of death, so that we would not trust in ourselves but in God who raises the dead” (1:9). If a person relied only on one’s strength, where is the need for faith in God? For example, with great practice, a person can become a pool shark. They can run the table on their adversaries. The person trusts in one’s skill set to help the person succeed in the game. However, overwhelming affliction creates a dire need to trust One higher. Since enduring hardships with trust in God produces the fruit of endurance, proven character, and divine hope (Rom. 5:30); it is actually a good thing that God allows us to face overwhelming situations where one’s trust must be placed in the God of creation. Certainly, it will not seem like a good thing while enduring the circumstance. But when God comes through as only God can, then trust is developed. Trust is crucial in healthy relationships. It must be remembered that through the process God is still working out everything for the good of those who love and trust him (Rom. 8:28). The endgame is the most important. Just as parents teach their children hard lessons to help them grow, so God must teach and train us to be the people he desires us to be by permitting hardships in our lives.

Conclusion

I must admit, I have used the phrase “God will not place more on us than we can bear” in my early days as a pastor. While at the time it was thought that the statement was positive and encouraging, it does not necessarily mesh with the teachings of Scripture. In some circles, it is believed that God only provides riches, health, and blessings for his children. Ironically, such belief systems find a home more in the camp of Roman philosophy rather than Christian philosophy. The goodness of the Anselmian God—that which nothing greater can be conceived—may require him to place his children in circumstances that are far beyond what they may endure to produce future blessings that would have only come through their trials of fire. Through the trials of Joseph, God led him to success in Egypt which would eventually be used to save his family and nation from certain doom as a famine ravaged through their land. Through the heartaches and despair of Job, he encountered God in a personal fashion and was eventually blessed double from what he previously owned. Through the horrific execution of Jesus, salvation was offered to the world, and death was defeated. With this in mind, the words of one of my mentors ring true. When facing overwhelming trials, rather than asking, “What are you doing to me, God?” we should rather ask, “What are you doing for me, God?” Therefore, rather than saying, "God will not place more on us than we can endure," perhaps we would be better served in saying, "God will not place more on us than he can endure."

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About the Author

Brian G. Chilton is the founder of BellatorChristi.com, the host of The Bellator Christi Podcast, and the author of the Layman’s Manual on Christian Apologetics. Brian is a Ph.D. Candidate of the Theology and Apologetics program at Liberty University. He received his Master of Divinity in Theology from Liberty University (with high distinction); his Bachelor of Science in Religious Studies and Philosophy from Gardner-Webb University (with honors); and received certification in Christian Apologetics from Biola University. Brian is enrolled in the Ph.D. program in Theology and Apologetics at Liberty University and is a member of the Evangelical Theological Society and the Evangelical Philosophical Society. Brian has served in pastoral ministry for nearly 20 years. He currently serves as a clinical chaplain.

https://www.amazon.com/Laymans-Manual-Christian-Apologetics-Essentials/dp/1532697104

© 2021. BellatorChristi.com.

[1] Unless otherwise noted, all quoted Scripture comes from the Christian Standard Bible (Nashville, TN: Holman, 2007, 2020).

[2] David E. Garland, 2 Corinthians, New American Commentary, vol. 29 (Nashville: B&H, 1999), 62.

[3] See Cicero, De Natura Deorum 3.36, 87.

Benefits of Active Listening and Moral Apologetics for the Chaplaincy Ministry

For the first article after having been named a Senior Contributor for MoralApologetics.com, it is only appropriate to acknowledge the tremendous benefit that moral apologetics has served in my present ministry as a clinical hospice chaplain. In September of 2020, I joined a team of nine other individuals who care for patients and their families at the point of death. Numerous individuals have inquired, “How do you do that? Don’t you stay depressed all the time? Isn’t that a heavy job?” Yes, the job can be intense emotionally and spiritually. A fellow chaplain told me that the average duration of a clinical hospice chaplain is generally 2-3 years because of emotional burnout. Ironically, I have found the job to be a blessing. I have seen God move in powerful ways to change lives and to impact people in ways that I was never prepared to see.

Two skills have served as a tremendous benefit for helping me help those most in need. By no means am I saying that I have these skills mastered. I am still learning. Nonetheless, I digress. The first is a skill acquired from my chaplaincy training. Fellow chaplain Jason Kline taught me the benefits of a practice known as active listening. Active listening is a technique that carefully listens to what the person is saying and observes non-verbal cues that communicate what the person is feeling and thinking. More on this in a

While active listening is a tremendous tool, it becomes even more powerful when coupled with training in moral apologetics. This writer was highly honored to participate in Dr. David Baggett’s final course at Liberty University before he made his trek to Houston Baptist University. Truly, Liberty’s loss is HBU’s gain. For me, I wanted to take the course because I had already befriended Dr. Baggett but never had him as a professor. Even if Baggett taught a class on the benefits of chocolate ice cream, I would have taken it because I wanted to say that Dr. Baggett was my professor. Nonetheless, it could not have been more appropriate that the class was on moral apologetics. Furthermore, nothing could have prepared me for the enduring benefits that stemmed from this deeply philosophical and apologetic overview of the moral apologetic landscape. The field of moral apologetics prepared me in numerous ways to be able to help patients as a clinical chaplain and deal with the intense situations that I have encountered in my brief time in the profession. As a caveat, HIPAA laws do not permit the use of personal stories and examples in the chaplaincy field. Thus, this article will only speak in generalities as it pertains to the benefits of both active listening and moral apologetics to the task of chaplaincy ministry. As the article will show, the benefits are not only found in chaplaincy.

Benefits of Active Listening

As previously noted, active listening is a technique whereby a counselor actively participates in the conversation by observing both verbal and non-verbal cues that speak to the person’s emotional, spiritual, and physical condition. Healthline.com suggests that active listening requires eight tasks: 1. Give the person your full attention. 2. Use body language (show them you are interested in the person, don’t just say it). 3. Avoid interrupting the person. 4. Don’t fear the power of silence. 5. Reflect on the person’s communication, don’t parrot them. 6. Validate the person’s feelings. 7. Ask thoughtful questions. 8. Avoid passing judgment or offering advice.[1] All of these tips work well within the framework of moral apologetics. The eighth tip may sound counterintuitive to the apologist’s task because the apologist wants to guide the person to a personal relationship with Christ and/or strengthen his/her relationship with Christ. However, strategically asked questions can provide the same result and will allow the client to own the information for oneself. Furthermore, this fits well into the abductive argument for moral apologetics. Marybeth Baggett avers that the abductive approach “relies on and encourages bridge building, which isn’t helped by treated difficult questions as easier than they are.”[2] It just so happens that active listening works well within the abductive approach. From the brief time this writer has served as a clinical chaplain, it has been observed that the practice of active listening brings about four tremendous benefits.

1.      Encourages dialogue. Just as Baggett argued for the abductive moral argument, so also active listening encourages dialogue. There is a distinct difference between dialogue and monologue. Monologues occur when a person gives a lecture. While this is nice in the university setting, it is not preferred for one-on-one communication. If the counselor or apologist only gives the person what-for, enshrouded in the ideology of “telling it like it is,” the listener will quickly turn off his/her ears and will no longer engage in the conversation. The conversation will quickly devolve and end. However, the effective communicator is willing to hear what the other person says and how they feel. Speaking as an apologist, this is something that is missing in many circles these days.

2.      Identifies personal concerns. Active listening encourages the person to speak about their personal issues and concerns. The counselor and apologist will quickly learn why the person believes what they do. More often than not, a person’s experiences help shape one to become who they will be. Recently, an A&E documentary on the life of WWE legend Rowdy Roddy Piper spoke to the tragic events of Roddy Toombe’s early life that led to his self-destructive habits. Active listening helps to identify and detect those issues.

3.      Allows for self-assessment. The best counselors and apologists are those that can lead individuals to own the information for themselves. This is the very tactic that Jesus used. For example, Jesus asked the disciples who others said that he was before asking them poignantly, “Who do you say that I am?” (Matt. 16:15, CSB). Simon Peter owned the information for himself which came from Jesus’s strategic inquiry.

4.      Reveals personal biases and worldviews. In correlation with the second point, active listening reveals what the person believes. Non-verbal communication can serve as a huge help. Does the person wince or squirm when more difficult theological or spiritual questions are asked? What does this say about the person’s beliefs? Did the person have experiences that led them to their current spiritual reservations? Knowing the seven major worldviews is of immense value as it helps one know the foundation upon which the person’s belief system is based.[3]

Benefits of Moral Apologetics

As was shown, active listening is a powerful technique used to engage and develop a conversation with others. However, questions cannot be one-sided. Sometimes people want to know why a loving God would allow their loved one to suffer. Why is God allowing them to endure hardship and suffering? Simply answering, “Just believe God and all will be well” is not enough. Furthermore, the counselor and/or apologist needs to have a goal in mind. In the case of the moral apologist, the goal is to teach and move a person to accept the good moral nature of an Anselmian God.[4] The use of active listening within the framework of an abductive moral apologetic makes for a powerful means to assist those suffering from moral doubt for the following reasons.

1.      Provides confidence to handle the most difficult situations. Nothing can prepare someone for the outpouring of emotions when tragedy strikes. Different people mourn in different ways. Some may become loud and boisterous, whereas others become depressed and guarded. Having a moral apologetic background grounds the counselor and apologist with the confidence needed to stand amid the turbulent chaos. Like CPR for the EMS worker, ingrained moral apologetic truths become second nature to the trained moral apologetic counselor and apologist and can be quickly accessed.

2.      Grounds a person’s confusion and doubt. Eventually, the counselor and apologist will face a situation that causes them to wonder about why a certain instance occurred. This is natural. The person suffering through the tumultuous time is asking the same question with sevenfold intensity. Nonetheless, the tools in the moral apologist’s toolbox are readily available to assist both the counselor and client during the most difficult of days. Holding fast to God’s benevolent nature anchors one’s emotional and spiritual state.

3.      Reminds of the loving character of God amid the storms. Moral doubt has led many to dark places. Habermas estimates that 70-80% of doubt comes from emotional doubt.[5] Moral apologetics affords the ability to focus on the benevolent nature of God even in a world full of evil and despair. In the end, God’s moral nature is the best explanation for knowing that moral good exists and the intrinsic moral value held by all people, as they are made imagio Dei. Baggett and Walls word it well, noting that “God’s nature as the best explanation of moral good, and the fact that he has created us in his image, constitute an excellent explanation both of why we cannot avoid making moral judgments about the world and of why we cannot escape seeing evil as a problem if there is indeed a gap between the way the world is and the way it ought to be.”[6] Rather than leading the counselor and client away from God because of their moral plight, moral apologetics equips them to come closer to God during the occasion because of the goodness of God and the necessity of God as the best explanation as to why one can make moral claims in the first place.

4.      Acknowledges a better day to come. Hope can help a person through the most decadent times. Viktor Frankl reminisces on the power of hope after having survived the torturous Nazi death camps. He recalls, “The prisoner who had lost faith in the future—his future—was doomed. With his loss of belief in the future, he also lost his spiritual hold; he let himself decline and became subject to mental and physical decay.”[7] What hope does materialism offer with one’s suffering? Nothing. Moral apologetics acknowledges that a benevolent Anselmian God holds the very best in mind for his children’s future. While things may appear grim at present, a better day is coming. As I hope to show in a book I am currently writing—if God is that than which nothing greater could be perceived, then the final hope for his children is that than which nothing greater could be anticipated. The believer has hope for a perfect world created by a perfect God.

Conclusion 

Quite honestly, this article has only skimmed the surface of the great depths that the combination of active listening and moral apologetics extends to the counselor and apologist. However, this combination is not only limited to chaplaincy, but it can also be useful for every field and profession. From the academic professor to the local pastor and everyday Christian, these practices can enrichen one’s life and relationships. Furthermore, and perhaps most importantly, the practice of active listening disarms a person from being on edge from thinking that he/she must prove one’s intellectual prowess. In most cases, the active listener allows the other person to do the most talking. Additionally, the strength from having a moral apologetic background encourages both counselor and client alike that they are not defined by the bad situations endured, but rather they are defined by a God who loves them and cares for them more than one could ever realize. What could be better than that?

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About the Author 

Brian G. Chilton is the founder of BellatorChristi.com, the host of The Bellator Christi Podcast, the author of the Layman’s Manual on Christian Apologetics, and a Ph.D. Candidate of the Theology and Apologetics program at Liberty University. He received his Master of Divinity in Theology from Liberty University (with high distinction); his Bachelor of Science in Religious Studies and Philosophy from Gardner-Webb University (with honors); and received certification in Christian Apologetics from Biola University. Brian is a member of the Evangelical Theological Society and the Evangelical Philosophical Society. Brian has served in pastoral ministry for nearly 20 years and currently serves as a clinical chaplain and a Senior Contributor for MoralApologetics.com.

https://www.amazon.com/Laymans-Manual-Christian-Apologetics-Essentials/dp/1532697104

[1] Crystal Raypole, “Active Listening: Why it Matters and 8 Tips for Success,” Healthline.com (December 15, 2020), https://www.healthline.com/health/active-listening.

[2] David Baggett and Marybeth Baggett, The Morals of the Story: Good News about a Good God (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2008), 51.

[3] See Brian G. Chilton, Layman’s Manual on Christian Apologetics: Bridging the Essentials of Apologetics from the Ivory Tower to the Everyday Christian (Eugene, OR: Resource, 2019), 40-43.

[4] That is, “God is the ground of being without whom nothing else can exist.” David Baggett and Jerry L. Walls, God & Cosmos: Moral Truth and Human Meaning (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2016), 64.

[5] Habermas in Chilton, LMOCA, 75.

[6] Baggett and Walls, God & Cosmos, 96.

[7] Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning (Boston, MS: Beacon, 2006), 74.

The Moral Argument and Christian Theology, Part III: Glorification

In earlier installments we discussed our deep need for forgiveness and moral transformation—justification and sanctification, respectively—but there is one more step: Not just to be wholly forgiven and radically transformed, but for the process to culminate. We need the good work that has been begun within us to be completed, which God promises to do at the day of Christ Jesus for those who trust him. And so what we are talking about now is the Christian category of glorification, when we are entirely conformed to the image of Jesus, morally beautified to the uttermost, every last vestige of sin having been excised and expunged.

This answers to a deep intuitive recognition of a third basic moral drive or need, or maybe aspiration—yet one, once more, beyond the reach of our own capacities without divine grace—the hunger to be perfected, turned into the best versions of ourselves, delivered entirely from the power and consequences of sin. Christianity assures us, and we have principled reasons to believe, that this is no Pollyannaish pipe dream, but a reality we can look forward to with a hope that will not disappoint.

Interestingly, Immanuel Kant thought that human beings would never achieve a “holy will,” which he considered reserved for God alone. The process of moral perfection was thus something at best approached asymptotically—we get closer and closer throughout eternity but never fully arrive at it. It is a process that is never completed, he thought, so this served as the basis of his argument for immortality, since the process must continue forever.

Christian theology, I suspect, suggests that Kant was both right and wrong. He was wrong to think we will not be perfected. The Christian doctrine of glorification is about the process of sanctification reaching an end point. Ultimately sin will be completely defeated within us, and we will find complete deliverance from its power and consequences. That is a glorious hope.

Still, Kant was also likely right that there will remain a movement, a dynamism, even after the point of glorification. For one thing, the prospect of beholding the glory and beauty and goodness of God is an unending process. For another, once full deliverance from sin comes is when the fullest life for which we were created can really begin, which even the present life already intimates at.

A. E. Taylor wrote eloquently about this in his Faith of a Moralist. Here is just one example:

The moral life does not consist merely in getting into right relations with our fellows or our Maker. That’s only preliminary to the real business: to live in them. Even in this life we have to do more than unlearn unloving. We have to practice giving love actual embodiment. This is continuous with what is morally of highest importance and value in our present life…. Heaven must be a land of delightful surprises. We should have learned to love every neighbor who crosses our path, to hate nothing that God has made, to be indifferent to none of the mirrors of His light. But even where there is no ill-will or indifference to interfere with love, it is still possible for love to grow as understanding grows.

Combining all the discussions of our last three installments, what we have here is a three-pronged moral argument based in God’s grace. It is by God’s grace we can find the forgiveness we desperately need for having fallen short of the moral standard, which we all do. It is by God’s grace we can be set free from both our subjective feelings and objective condition of guilt, and it is by God’s grace that we will be eventually entirely conformed to the image of Christ and delivered completely from sin’s power and consequences. From first to last, what answers our deepest moral needs—for forgiveness, for change, and for perfection—is the astounding grace of a good God perfect in holiness and perfect in love.

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David Baggett is professor of philosophy and Director of the Center for Moral Apologetics at Houston Baptist University.

Fatherlessness and Incarceration

Sometimes various folks like to adduce statistics to drive home the value of being raised with two parents. Of course two parents are not always better than one—one deeply loving parent is better than having two cruel ones, for example—but there are some compelling statistics that provide reason to think that the nurture and stability of two-parent homes, generally speaking, better conduce to healthy socialization. A commonly cited figure pertains to incarceration. Empirical studies show that 85% of youths in prison grew up in fatherless homes. On occasion pastors will point to such statistics as a quick way in which to encourage parents to stay together and raise their children in a healthy environment.

All that is well-rehearsed material, but here I would invite folks to consider how a kid, say, from a fatherless family may interpret such statistics. Perhaps he’s in church as a youngster, and the pastor cites these numbers, or any of plenty of others that indeed reveal how growing up without a father is disadvantageous. I ask you to consider such a scenario because I know of a young man who had this very experience, and for years afterwards he struggled with what the statistics meant for him. Since he wasn’t old enough to process the information, he (mistakenly and understandably) confused what he had heard with the thought that it was likely that he himself, as one growing up fatherless, would end up behind bars. Although this was a mistake, logically speaking, that’s the sort of thing kids are naturally wont to do, and it was hardly his fault. Sadly the experience left him feeling for years that he was doomed to a subpar life, perhaps even something like prison. Worse, he thought this was one of the messages the church itself had to offer him.

It dawned on me today that the math of this matter is a good problem for Bayes’ Theorem, and the result is telling and, for this young friend, hopeful. So the question is this: What is the probability that someone raised without a father will end up incarcerated? There are three variables: the antecedent probability of becoming incarcerated; the antecedent probability of growing up fatherless; and the conditional probability of being fatherless if one is incarcerated. Respectively, those figures go like this: .00716, .39, and .85. The formula looks like this:

P(IlF) = [P(FlI)P(I)]/P(F)

This is to say that the probability of becoming incarcerated if one grows up without a father is the product of the (conditional) probability of being fatherless if one is incarcerated and the (antecedent) probability of being incarcerated, divided by the (antecedent) probability of being fatherless. Plugging in the values, the result is .0156. Which is to say that there’s about a 1.56% chance, if one grows up without a father, of ending up incarcerated. Admittedly this is all course grained, and it remains several times higher than for those who do not grow up without a father. But it is nothing like the initial, stark conditional 85% probability of having grown up fatherless if one is incarcerated.

Fathers are important, undoubtedly. Having been blessed with a great one myself, I am aware of this truth very well. However, especially for vulnerable kids without the capacity to make sense of and process troubling statistics, perhaps we can and should, with some sensitivity and delicacy, empathy and kindness, save them some heartache, dissonance, and angst by carefully avoiding the suggestion that to be raised without a father probably relegates them to an inferior life. Such a nonredemptive message isn’t just bad math, it is bad theology. We are called to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, not add to their burden, even if unwittingly.

Reference:

Abwesende Vater statistik, aktualisierte Forschung | Lovefreund.de

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David Baggett is professor of philosophy and Director of the Center for Moral Apologetics at Houston Baptist University.

New Developments in Moral Apologetics: Kevin Richard

Editor’s note: Below is a summary of Dr. Kevin Richard’s doctoral dissertation work entitled: Tawḥīdic Allah, the Trinity, and the Eschaton: A Comparative Analysis of the Qualitative Nature of the Afterlife in Islam and Christianity.

The doctrine of eternal life raises certain qualitative and existential questions. Considering the unfathomable duration, one may rightly ask, what will that experience be like and will it be eternally satisfying? British moral philosopher Bernard Williams once stated that “nothing less will do for eternity than something that makes boredom unthinkable.”[1]

The prospect of eternal life creates a potential existential problem for humanity. The problem is potential because eternal existence creates a certain need, a need which can concisely be stated in this way: quality must overcome quantity. One can imagine becoming satiated with the pleasures and joys promised in religious Paradise. Consider this, at the first intimations of boredom, even if that moment took a billion trillion years to reach (if time is still measured that way), you would arrive at this moment relatively quickly given eternity as there would still be as much time in front of you as when you first stepped into this reality. One can further imagine that this boorish reality could quickly become hellish as pleasures and joy would continue to lose their appeal and boredom would increase and abound with no end.

Christianity and Islam have robust eschatologies and both teach that human beings are intended to live forever. Furthermore, this eternal life is presented as intrinsically good. I would submit that if they are in fact intrinsically good then each respective eschatological reality must overcome this problem of eternal duration if eternal life is something to be desired. My concern here is not with comparison between Paradise and Hell. Faced with the option to choose between the two, most rational people would embrace the former. But what if Paradise would eventually become hellish? What then? The notion of this paradisal life would not be a blessed reality, a divine gift, but the worst of all curses to befall mankind. Therefore, I am concerned with the goodness of Paradise as it is in itself. Does either faith tradition’s purported eternal bliss have the ability to eternally satisfy human creatures?

To answer that question, two fundamental assumptions will be made. If the answer is to be yes, that eternal life is intrinsically good, it would seem that two things must obtain in the afterlife. First, eternal pleasure would have to be found in and/or derive from the ultimate Good (i.e. God or Allah). Second, given that human creatures experience goodness in this life – love, happiness, relationality – and that for these creatures their telos is eternal bliss, then these goods in this life will be part of the life to come.

From these two assumptions emerge two “gap” problems, problems against which either religion can be critiqued: the Qualitative Gap Problem (QGP) and the Teleological Gap Problem (TGP). The QGP is perhaps the more obvious problem and is based on the previous statement “quality must overcome quantity.” This is an objective problem, either the quality of the experienced afterlife overcomes eternal duration, or it does not. Some may speculate that one simply could not know if this gap could or could not be overcome, and perhaps there is some merit to this point. In response to this, however, as was mentioned about, if God is the Ultimate Good, as both Christianity and Islam teach, then it would seem that he alone could be the source of a goodness that can overcome eternity’s demand. Here, one emerging thought becomes of ultimate concern: What is one’s relationship to God or Allah in the afterlife? One’s proximity to the divine, relational or otherwise, would weigh heavily on the gap being overcome.

The TGP is a subjective problem and considers how the ultimate good of the afterlife aligns with the human telos in this life and, consequently, human flourishing. The TGP considers three facts that highlight and emphasize the multi-dimensionality of human creatures:

1.     Human beings have a physical dimension.

2.     Human beings have a mental/spiritual dimension.

3.     Human beings have a social/relational dimension.

These are the teleological realities in need of fulfillment in the life to come. If Islamic Paradise or the Christian Heaven is to be desired over the other, it will be because these subjective dimensions, which form our fundamental longings and aspirations, are met. Furthermore, this teleological consideration has theological implications. As Jerry Walls notes, “The question of whether we believe in God is another form of the question of whether the fleeting glimpses of joy we experience in this life are intimations of a deeper wellspring of happiness, or whether they are tantalizing illusions, shadowy hints of a satisfaction that does not really exist.”[2] Although Walls writes within the Christian tradition, his words apply equally within an Islamic context. Applying Walls’s question to both visions of the afterlife, are the experiences of this life intimations of a deeper “wellspring of happiness” or a “tantalizing illusion”? Do they have their place in the life to come? Also, what is the source of this wellspring, God or Allah, or another source?

Within the Islamic tradition, broadly speaking, there are two theological traditions concerning the rewards of Paradise in the afterlife. The first is the one that people are most familiar with, namely, the sensuous and exorbitant afterlife. The second is not so familiar but it comes from the Qur’an itself. In Surah 56, when humanity is judged before Allah, there are three possible outcomes. The wicked are cast into Hell, the righteous are granted Paradise, and then there are a select few, those in the middle, those whom Allah brings near. Their end will be proximity to Allah, their reward is nearness. This station is the ultimate one and is reserved for the select few who attain to that level of nearness on Earth.

But, as I see it, there is a problem with this notion of nearness to Allah. The doctrine of Allah (or Tawhid) teaches that he is One, without distinction, beyond all language and description, utterly transcendent. What then is nearness or proximity to the One? In short, Islamic philosophy teaches that as the other (man) approaches the One (Allah), the more the other diminishes and only the One remains. In the afterlife, then, proximity to Allah amounts to a quasi-absorption into the divine. It is in this state that the self is slowly annihilated as all creaturely distinctions fade out of view and only the divine reality remains. Proximity to Allah, the highest level of Paradise, reaches its culmination in the Beatific Vision, but at what cost? In this moment, the QGP is met, but what comes of the self? Overcoming this gap problem seems to entail willing self-annihilation.

Now concerning the Teleological Gap Problem, how does it fare? As was mentioned above, the traditional readings of Paradise in Islam connect the telos of man in this life with the life to come. In the life to come, all manner of sensuous pleasures and desires are fulfilled. Those intrinsic goods experienced on Earth are now surpassed 1,000-fold. But according to Islamic doctrine, proximity is lost. Those who attain to this level of Paradise are not near to Allah in any real sense. And so, while they may be fulfilled sensually and relationally, it is apart from the Ultimate Good. This seems problematic, for, on the one hand, if they maintain that love is an intimation of love to come in the afterlife, a good worth retaining, then what is the source of the experience of the good in Paradise? The source is not Allah, for his love is self-contained.

At this point, I would submit that there is a greater inherent dilemma for Islam than for Christianity. On the one hand, if the QGP (the objective problem) is to be met it will entail proximity to Allah. But as we see, proximity to Allah entails the annihilation of the human subject, which does not solve the TGP (the subjective problem). On the other hand, if the TGP is to be met, it will entail a severed proximity to Allah. In the physical depictions of Paradise, the TGP, the multi-dimensionality of human creatures, is met. But, at the same time, the QGP is not met because any meaningful experience with the divine is removed. The two gap problems cannot be met simultaneously.

This study argues that the Islamic view of the afterlife does not have the theological and philosophical resources to meet both of these gap problems simultaneously and must compromise on one in order to meet the other. Islam’s doctrine of Allah – Tawhid –raises the following question in need of resolution: “How does the divine overcome the unlikeness that exists between God/Allah and man and yet not annihilate the individual (the other) in the process?”

It is at this point where the Christian doctrine of the Trinity helps to bridge this impasse. Trinitarian love is the fundamental fabric of God’s nature. Instead of this love remaining an abstraction, unknowable through human perception, the triune God acted in human history manifesting the quality of divine love in full display. While humanity remained enemies to God and hostile to his lordship, the Word-made-flesh descended into creation to save and redeem all things. Through Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross, the quality of God’s immense love was demonstrated. In that moment, humanity was given a glimpse of the quality of love that has existed within the Godhead from eternity past. It is this kind of love that Christians identify as part of the ultimate Good. And not only is that love freely given, it made a way for humanity to experience true relationship with God. To know and be known, to love and be loved. The triune God’s love for man is a non-mystical reality, grounded in the very nature of the Godhead. Christians love God because, in a very real and direct expression, God loved mankind first (1 John 4:19). Humanity can embrace those good aspirations of love and relationality both because it is how God created human beings to be and because the God of Christianity has demonstrated it to the world in human history.

This study submits that the Christian view of afterlife overcomes both gaps because of the God/man relationship in Heaven focused supremely on, in, and through the God-man Jesus Christ. It is our holistic relationship to the Triune God that grants eternal joy for all of redeemed humanity. The Christian view of Heaven presented here coupled with the nature of the Triune God is a more desired reality. The teleology of heaven better accounts for and meets the needs of the multi-dimensionality of human beings. Each of the components of the subjective experience in this life are fundamental aspects of the life to come. It is through the relation with the Triune God of Christianity that the problem of eternity is met, where quality does overcome the quantity.

[1] Bernard Williams, “The Makropulos Case: Reflections on the Tedium of Immortality,” in Problems of the Self, (New York, Cambridge University Press, 1973), 95.

[2] Jerry Walls, Heaven: The Logic of Eternal Joy, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 197.

John Wesley: Brand Plucked from the Burning

The rescue of the young John Wesley from the burning rectory. Mezzotint by Samuel William Reynolds.

Thinking he was dying, Evangelical Awakening leader John Wesley penned his epitaph, “John Wesley, a brand plucked out of the burning.” Brother Charles Wesley quipped, “Not once only.”  The ‘brand plucked’ phrase encapsulated the reality upon which not only his but many of his spiritual descendants’ spiritual and moral transformation hinged.  Recount with me the life events that prepared John Wesley for the signal manifestation on 24 May 1738 of his coming to saving faith two hundred and eighty one years ago this year.

At age 23, John Benjamin Wesley read Bishop Jeremy Taylor’s book, Rules and Exercises of Holy Living and Dying.  It deeply affected him.  He said, ‘Instantly I resolved to dedicate all my life to God, all my thoughts and words and actions.’  The next year he read the Catholic monk Thomas à Kempis’s book The Imitation of Christ.  There John Wesley saw that to give his life to God meant giving ‘my heart, yea, all my heart to him.’  John Wesley became what is called a ‘f-a-n-a-t-i-c’ or, same thing, a ‘Methodist’!  Theologian Albert Outler with others following suit argues the 1725 event was John Wesley’s conversion.  Granted, it was a change.  Nevertheless, it was neither the relational change of justification with God nor the new birth from above.  Dedicating his life meant to John Wesley becoming an Olympic religious athlete/monk (like Simon Stylites the ancient ascetic monk who lived on a small platform on top of a pillar for 37 years). Still, he was in dead earnest about bringing all of himself – all thoughts, all words, and all actions – and then some – into perfect conformity with religious righteousness – a.k.a. the rich, young ruler. 

His brother Charles and another friend Robert Kirkham responded to Oxford University’s Vice-Chancellor’s call for students to keep university rules.  What a novel idea!  They started a club in answer to the Vice-Chancellor’s call and made John its leader.  The club aimed at nothing short of “perfection.”  They kept track of every hour’s activity – was it done to God’s glory?  They read the Greek New Testament; fasted; prayed continually; took communion once a week; visited prisoners in the Oxford jail (I visited the cell in the 1980’s); and went to daily worship.  Fellow students called out ‘nerd alert’:  here comes the “the Holy Club,” the “Bible Moths,” and the “Methodists” – likely a pun.  Methodius was a primitive church father and the Methodists followed a stringent, methodical, Christian discipline.

Meanwhile, things were not going particularly well vocationally with John.  Though he was a tutor of Lincoln College, Oxford, some parents were reluctant to send their sons to be taught by the oddball, “Mr. Primitive Christianity.”  Moreover, his brief experience of pastoring a church was lackluster.

When the invitation came to go to Georgia as a missionary, he was ready for a “New World.”  He would oversee the English colonists and evangelize the Indians.  In crossing the Atlantic, Wesley’s tiny ship, the Simmonds, encountered a raging hurricane.  Waves vaulted the ship and smacked its wooden hull. Each time they hit, John thought the ship would be dashed into a thousand pieces.  The turmoil was not just outside.  Inside he asked himself, “Why are you so afraid to die? ... How is it that thou hast no faith?”

Meanwhile, German Moravian Lutherans on board quietly served the passengers and calmly sang through the valley of the shadow of death. They were on their way to Georgia to escape religious persecution.  Intrigued, Wesley after the storm asked a Moravian, “Were you not afraid?”  “Thank God, no,” was the answer.  “How about your women and children?” “No, they are not afraid to die.”

When John arrived near Tybee Island, Georgia, Moravian leader August Spangenberg asked him point blank a question he had never considered. “Do you know Jesus Christ?”   Wesley paused.  Then he said, “I know he is the Saviour of the world.”  Spangenberg shot back, “But do you know He has saved YOU?” “I hope He died to save me,” said Wesley.  “But do you know yourself?” Spangenberg insisted.  “I do,” said Wesley.  He later confessed, “But, I fear those were vain words.”  Indeed.

Undaunted, still hot from the Holy Club culture, John Wesley was determined to make the American colonists into an Oxford Holy club – an admixture of Catholicism and Protestantism.  The colony would not.  A friend told John, “They (the parishioners) say they are Protestants, but as for you they cannot tell what religion you are of; they never heard of such before.”

In the meantime Wesley was forming a close attachment to the magistrate’s niece, Sophie Hopkey.  Long story short, she married another man.  Wesley refused to serve her communion because he said she deceived him and had not repented of it.  Her uncle the magistrate served a warrant for Wesley’s arrest.  One night Wesley quietly slinked away through the Georgia swamps.  England bound sounded pretty good.  So much for being a missionary.

Sailing home, he was dejected.  He had lost a potential wife.  His congregation was not “holy” – just irate.  His rigorous religion was giving him cold comfort.  “I have a fair summer religion,” he confessed to himself.  “Let death look me in the face, and my spirit is troubled”… “I have a sin of fear, that when I’ve spun my last thread, I shall perish on the shore!”  He mused, “I went to America to convert the Indians, but, oh, who shall convert me!”

He could not by all the rigors of self-denial, prayers, fasting, and good works make himself acceptable to God.  After all his strenuous, spiritual athletics, he could not rid himself of sin and guilt.  Should he die, he feared meeting God.

A couple of months after returning to England, in March 1738, he wrote in his Journal, “I was, on Sunday the 5th, clearly convinced of unbelief, of the want of that faith whereby alone we are saved.”  Moravian Peter Bohler counseled him to preach faith until he received it. The Moravian Lutheran understanding of justifying faith is that it is a gift which God gives and one receives.  One decides for it but God sends faith in his own time.  In April John Wesley realized he was a sinner without recourse.  Several times he wept privately over his state.  By now he had no intellectual objections to the nature of evangelical faith.  He accepted it as a sure trust in God that through the merits of Christ one’s sins are forgiven and one is reconciled to God’s favor.  However, was saving faith instantaneous like the Moravians claimed?  He studied Scripture and concluded it was instantaneous.  But was it for today?  Moravian leader Peter Bohler gave him many current witnesses who testified to it.  He was beat out of that retreat.  Intellectually and willfully he had accepted justification by faith.

Several weeks later on 24 May, 1738, after soul searching, Bible study, discussion with the Moravians, and a great sense of his spiritual lack before God, John Wesley went very unwillingly to a religious house group meeting in Aldersgate Street, London. (Nazi bombing in WW II destroyed the house.)  At about a quarter before nine, someone was reading Martin Luther’s Preface to his commentary on the Book of Romans.  As Luther was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, John Wesley felt “my heart strangely warmed.”  He said, “I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even MINE, and saved ME from the law of sin and death.”

Once he had been providentially plucked from his bedroom in flames.  Now he was rescued from the fires of God’s wrath.  As a child, he was helpless to get out of his flaming room.  Now he conceded he was helpless to make himself righteous.  Two men had to snatch him out of his childhood inferno.  Only Jesus Christ and his mercy offered in the atoning cross could save him from his sin.  Only Jesus could declare him acceptable to God.

Wesley scholars will forever debate the nature of the Aldersgate event.  Was Aldersgate just another step in his Christian pilgrimage?  Was it more assurance of faith than justifying faith? The bottom line is that that night in a room on Aldersgate Street John Wesley’s inner, spiritual ear heard Christ forgive him and accept him.  He went from knowing Jesus as Exemplar to knowing Jesus as Savior.  He no longer trusted in his own but Jesus’ merits.  Aldersgate is the landmark event that notes a change in status having occurred in John Wesley’s life: once a child of this world he was now a child of God; once guilty he was now forgiven; once unrighteous he was now declared righteous.  Now holy living really began.

Aldersgate was the hinge of John Wesley’s spiritual and moral transformation.  May many, many others today have their own similar Aldersgates.  Our hope is that our children and children’s children will not only be retelling his and ours, but theirs as well.

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Tom was most recently pastor of the Bellevue Charge in Forest, Virginia until retiring in July. Studying John Wesley’s theology, he received his M.A. and Ph.D. degrees from the University of Bristol, Bristol, England. While a student, he and his wife Pam lived in John Wesley’s Chapel “The New Room”, Bristol, England, the first established Methodist preaching house. Tom was a faculty member of Asbury Theological Seminary from 1998-2003. He has contributed articles to Methodist History and the Wesleyan Theological Journal. He and his wife Pam have two children, Karissa, who is an Associate Attorney at McCandlish Holton Morris in Richmond, and, John, who is a junior communications major/business minor at Regent University. Tom enjoys being outdoors in his parkland woods and sitting by a cheery fire with a good book on a cool evening.