Eternal Perspectives

The results are in from Evangelical Outpost’s competition, “Americanism and Its Enemies.” I didn’t win any free stuff, but I did get an honorable mention (i.e., top 20 percent).

This is important to me since (a) “honorable” is not a word that usually occurs in connection with my name, and (b) it means I am still lucid.

Today is the official day of remembering and celebrating the life of Martin Luther King. A lot of government offices are closed, as well as some business, in honor of the man who actively-but-passively made a difference in the civil rights movement in the United States.

I have never celebrated or even observed the day. I have had my reasons, although they might not be what you think.

I grew up on the so-called wrong side of the tracks, surrounded on three sides by solidly “colored” neighborhoods (as they were called in the ’50s and early ’60s). On the fourth side was U.S. 41, one of the two major highways that intersected Terre Haute. On the “right side” of 41 were all the “right” folks: Anglos, Jews, Syrians, Germans, and whatever other nationalities blended in undetectably.

My early boyhood adventures took me through these “blighted” areas of my hometown. There was a park on the eastern banks of the Wabash River and, to get to my personal wilderness-that-needed-to-be explored, I wandered through several blocks of exclusively black homes and businesses. I never gave it a second thought, although I now know that my father (a closet racist) was horribly embarrassed by where we lived. I thought it was cool.

Some of my first friends were dark-skinned – I never thought of them that way: to me they were just James and Reggie and Mike. It wasn’t until I was older that I was able to pick up on the racial – or racist – differences. Oh, I knew they had darker skin than me, but so what? That didn’t matter much to a ten-year-old back then, kinda like Tom and Huck and Jim one state and one river to the west.

But when I left the neighborhood and ventured across the invisible line of segregation that was known as Hwy 41, no one paid any attention to me. I was like a spy behind the lines, seeing how other people lived. I soon realized that James and Reggie and Mike did get noticed, though. They paid a price for the color of their skin.

It was, perhaps, because of my early years of seeing dark-skinned people out of my windows that I chose decades ago not to observe or celebrate MLK day. I didn’t feel entitled to observe it: after all, I’m not dark-skinned. I didn’t spend the time suffering from a God-given, God-chosen skin color that made me an easily recognizable target for others. Martin Luther King didn’t do anything for me, although he did do an enormous amount for some of my early (and later) friends. I’m glad about that.

King pushed racism to the front burner of America’s attention and refused to let it or himself be pushed back. Along with other heroes like Rosa Parks and Medgar Evers, he took the first important steps in making it OK to be dark-skinned. Covert, institutionalized, and insidious segregation and discrimination didn’t end because of him, but it was revealed as our country’s dirty laundry. Now we can talk about it; before him, we didn’t so much.

But, as I said, I didn’t observe the day, and didn’t out of respect for those who did suffer. (I also don’t participate in any observances for survivors of the Holocaust: in my mind, to do so would be to cheapen the price the true victims paid.) This is their day, not mine; I will work today, as usual, but am hoping that my dark-skinned neighbors will stay home and enjoy this time. They (or their ancestors) earned it; I (or my ancestors) didn’t.

I know some of us light-skinned people don’t observe the day for racist reasons and, by not observing it myself, I am in danger of being grouped together with them. I can’t do anything about that other than to remind others that just because two people do the same thing, it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re doing the same thing.

(I am somewhat saddened, too, by what seems to be an undoing of Dr. King’s work. The dark-skinned community seems to be drifting back into a segregated mentality once again, but with a difference. This time they’re doing it by labeling themselves as anything other than American or Christian or Muslim or whatever other non-observable appellation they might choose to set themselves apart from others. In so doing, I fear, they are duplicating and subtly justifying the segregationist mentality that light-skinned people foisted upon them for centuries. It is an ironic tragedy.)

This year, though, I think I will observe MLK day. I’ll still work, but I think I’ll spend some more time (in addition to this post) in considering Dr. King as a fellow believer in Jesus Christ. He was a righteous man who made a difference during his lifetime.

But, someone might say, what about his immorality? How can you approve of or celebrate the life of a man who gave himself over to fleshly appetites?

Good question. How do we look upon someone who was guilty of seduction, rape, and murder? I’m referring here, of course, not to Dr. King but to King David. We still think he was a pretty amazing God-follower, don’t we? And why does Jn 8 and a woman caught in adultery keep coming to mind? Don’t trouble me with the textual questions about this passage: the principle taught in it is true even if there is some question about the authenticity of the section itself.

So Dr. King was flawed. So what? I’m not going to celebrate or observe that part of his life. I’m going to remember that he made a difference for a whole lot of people – America’s own version of the Samaritans – and set an example for me to follow. Like John Knox did, or Martin Luther, Jonathan Edwards.

But, you might say, those light-skinned people made a difference spiritually and theologically while Dr. King’s contribution was social. To which I ask, how do you separate the two so easily? How do you divorce spirituality and theology from daily living and how we treat others?

So today I’ll remember the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King. A Christian, a man created in God’s image, and someone I fully expect and truly hope to meet one day in heaven.

Over at Evangelical Outpost, Joe Carter is calling for blogs to follow up on something that Dallas Willard’s wrote entitled “Jesus the Logician.” Here’s the abstract for Willard’s essay:

In understanding how discipleship to Jesus Christ works, a major issue is how he automatically present[s] himself to our minds. It is characteristic of most 20th century Christians that he does not automatically come to mind as one of great intellectual power: as Lord of universities and research institutes, of the creative disciplines and scholarship. The Gospel accounts of how he actually worked, however, challenge this intellectually marginal image of him and helps us to see him at home in the best of academic and scholarly settings of today, where many of us are called to be his apprentices.

Dallas Willard does not need me to tell him that he’s on to something, but I think he is. We don’t often think of Jesus as an intellectual, and perhaps we have underestimated His mind. We believe that He is omniscient (he knows all things) but don’t stop to consider how and what He thinks about all the things that He knows. Being a perfect being – even as a perfect human being during His first advent – Jesus’ powers of reasoning far exceeded anything that the world has seen before or since. And we won’t see it again until He returns.

What Evangelical Outpost is calling for, then, is to have Christian bloggers (Godblogs) pool their efforts to create a “comprehensive database outlining the ways in which Jesus used logic in his discourses.” To assist those who respond to the challenge, EO has provided a list of logical and rhetorical forms through which the teachings of Jesus can be analyzed. I didn’t find the rhetorical list very complete, but I saw enough to make me pause.

The problem, I think, is one that occurs Sunday after Sunday in thousands of pulpits around the world. It is a subtle error that Willard seems to have made and that EO is multiplying. It is this: eisogesis. Eisogesis is the error of reading into the text ideas, thoughts, motivations, purposes, forms, or anything else that are not there. For example, I read Mt 18.18-20:

“Truly I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall have been bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall have been loosed in heaven. Again I say to you, that if two of you agree on earth about anything that they may ask, it shall be done for them by My Father who is in heaven. For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst.”

Based on these words of Jesus, I claim this as a promise for prayer: if I can get one or two other Christians to join with me in prayer – and maybe especially if I say, “Father, I just really agree with that prayer” – then it shall be done for us by the Father. After all, isn’t that what Jesus said?

Well, no. I have read prayer into this passage (that is, I have eisogeted) because it sounds like Jesus could be talking about prayer, and because I’d like to have that kind of guarantee for my prayers. In context, however, Jesus is not talking about prayer at all: He’s talking about forgiveness, church discipline, and restoring a sinning Christian. If I exegete the passage, I draw out what is there; if I eisogete, I read into it what is not there.

Most (if not all) of the investigations into Jesus’ intellectual abilities over at EO are using Greek logic and rhetoric to evaluate Him. But Jesus was not Greek and He was not Western; He was Jewish and He was Eastern. These are two very different ways of thinking. And if I don’t use the right lens through which to view and analyze Him, I’m not going to get a clear or accurate picture. I might have fun doing it, and it might tickle my intellectual funny bone, but I really will not have learned anything about Jesus at all.

Apparently, there is some current debate on what language Jesus spoke. It has always been assumed that He spoke in Aramaic, but Greek was actually the common language of the day; furthermore, the entire New Testament was written in Greek, not Aramaic, by the men who heard Jesus speak. But – and this is important – whatever language Jesus might have used, He thought like a Jew, not a Greek.

I am no expert on Jewish rhetorical devices, philosophy, or logical forms. I don’t even know if they have those types of categories – well, I do know they have philosophy and rhetoric, but they’re different than what we Westerners have. When I was in college, a friend and I shared the gospel with an Oriental student. We explained that Jesus was the only way to God and, to our surprise and delight, the student agreed! And then he went on to say that Hinduism and Buddism and other religions were also ways to God.

I thought the guy was nuts but fortunately kept my mouth shut. He explained that, in his way of thinking, to say that something or someone was the only way did not rule out other ways. I still don’t understand how that can be, but I’m sure he was just as puzzled that I didn’t get it.

Jesus certainly didn’t go that far, but His thinking was nevertheless more Eastern than Western. Perhaps this kind of thinking was why Paul, the Jewish rabbi, could teach sovereign election in one chapter (Rom 9) and then immediately follow it with a chapter on human responsibility (Rom 10). For Paul, there wasn’t a problem.

I searched the internet to find papers and books on the subject, but didn’t find much. I was able to locate some books on Amazon by Brad Young, who has written a lot about the Jewish influences underlying Jesus’ teachings. I have ordered three of them and, when I’ve gotten through them, I’ll let you know what’s there.

All this is to say, “Be careful how you read the Bible. It may not be saying what you think it is saying.” To understand Jesus, Paul, Moses, David, John, Jeremiah, or any other writer we have to be able to think like they think and understand the message as their original audience would have understood it. It is a lot of work, and it takes a lot of time, but we are handling the word of God. It is worth whatever it costs us to see God more accurately.

National Director of Eschatology and Rapture Announced

In a time when George W. Bush’s first-term cabinet has dissolved in a rash of resignations, the President has taken an ambitious step toward his goals for his second term. On Tuesday, Bush announced the addition of a new cabinet-level position within his administration: the Director of Eschatology and Rapture.

The head of the new department will be Dr. Tim LaHaye, pastor and bestselling co-author of the Left Behind series.

Speaking of the appointment, Bush said, “I figured, Timmy’s done such a good job of making up an imaginary rapture, he’d be the best at coming up with the real thing during the next four years. Lord knows I haven’t had any luck getting it started myself. Besides, he’s a real snappy dresser.” – The Holy Observer

I am astonished sometimes by my doubts. Not the content of my doubts, mind you, but the contradiction or illogic of them. Here’s what I mean:

I believe in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. To be more theologically precise, I believe in the death, burial, and bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ. I don’t question this: to me, it is an established fact based on reliable, eye-witness, historical evidence.

I believe that God created the physical realms – what we label the universe and all it contains – from absolutely nothing. He spoke them into existence. It wasn’t magic; it was power. I’m not sure when He did it, but I know that He did it and how He did it. And I also believe that, before He made the visible, physical world, He had already created the unseen, spiritual world.

I believe that Jesus Christ, during His Bible-recorded earthly ministry, changed water to wine, walked on water, healed the blind, and raised people from the dead. He could do any of these things and much more. After all, He created the universe and sustains it: how hard can it be for Him to heal or give life to one of us?

I believe that Jesus Christ’s death on a cross paid the penalty for my sins, and that by faith in Him – a faith that is intellectual, emotional, volitional, and (consequentially) behavioral – I am forgiven, made a child of God, and placed into the Body of Christ. I believe I’m locked in for good: I can’t give back or lose my salvation.

I believe not only that my sins have been removed from my account and charged to His, but that His righteousness has been credited to me. I seem to misplace it from time to time, but He’s got it recorded in the heavenlies.

All this and more I believe without doubting.

But here’s where I get tripped up (it’s embarassing to admit this): I have a hard time imagining Jesus Christ returning with the saints to set up His kingdom on the earth, and picturing Him actually, physically ruling on the planet for 1,000 years, including leap years.

This is not a theological struggle for me: I believe that this is what the Scriptures teach. I have read the reasoning of amillenialists and postmillenialists alike; I have great respect for them and do not doubt or question their sincerity or commitment to Christ in the least. They look at the evidence and come to their conclusions, and I look at the same evidence and come to my premillenial conclusion. So it’s not about doctrine.

I just can’t envision it. I can’t get my mind to go there.

“Well”, you might reply, “you just have a problem with prophecy. You believe what has already happened, but you don’t believe that God can predict and then fulfill what has yet to happen but has already been determined.” No, I don’t think so. I believe Jesus Christ is going to return, that He will raise the dead and transform the living, that He will create a new heaven and a new earth. So it’s not about prophecy in general. And I’m not a believer in so-called “Open Theology,” which is perhaps more accurately called “Indeterminate Theology” or “Open-Ended Theology.”

I just have a hard time envisioning Jesus Christ sitting on a throne ruling over the earth for 1,000 years. What is that going to look like?

But my bigger problem – the “meta” problem – is this: why is this such a problem for me? If I can believe all the other things (and I do), then why not this? And then what concerns me is that I may not be altogether different than those people who were walking around in Judea when He came the first time. I’m looking for something else, or something different, or I can’t believe that it’s going to be what it is, and so I don’t have eyes to see or ears to hear. Psychologically, I cannot assimilate this truth (i.e., put it in pre-existing categories) and don’t seem able to accommodate it, either (create new categories for it).

Is this where faith comes in? Is faith believing in what I can’t believe? Should I cry out to God, as did the father of the demon-possessed boy in Mk 9, “I do believe; help my unbelief”?

I don’t think so – at least, not the first part about believing what I can’t believe. I don’t subscribe to Augustine’s “believe in order that you may understand,” nor even Aquinas’ dictum “understand in order that you may believe.” I think God gives us the ability to believe when we’ve gathered enough information (whether we understand it or not). Once we’ve absorbed a sufficient amount of relevent truth from Scripture and elsewere, He transforms our minds. The Holy Spirit instructs us, enables us to adequately understand, and gives us the settled assurance of things to come. He creates new categories or shows me how it fits in old ones.

When that time comes, I may not have the script all written out in front of me, but I’ll know that I can leave it in God’s hands and allow Him to work out His will in His time and in His way.

“Puritanism had two main elements: the Calvinist belief in predestination with associated religious doctrines, and what we might call a ‘political’ doctrine. The ‘political’ goal of Puritanism was to reach back to the pure Christianity of the New Testament – and then even farther back. Puritans spoke of themselves as God’s new chosen people, living in God’s new promised land – in short, as God’s new Israel.

“I believe that Puritanism did not drop out of history. It transformed itself into Americanism. This new religion was the end-stage of Puritanism: Puritansim realized among God’s self-proclaimed ‘new’ chosen people . . .

“[M]y thesis is that Puritanism did not merely inspire or influence Americanism; it turned into Americanism. Puritanism and Americanism are not just parallel or related developments; they are two stages of a single phenomenon.”

Gelernter examines the “American creed” that at once describes and supports Americanism. It is not principally “liberty, equality, democracy, individualism, human rights, the rule of law, and private property,” as is argued by some. Instead, he says, it is something else:

“I prefer a different formulation: a conceptual triangle in which one fundamental fact creates two premises that create three conclusions.

“The fundamental fact: the Bible is God’s word. Two premises: first, every member of the American community has his own individual dignity, insofar as he deals individually with God; second, the community has a divine mission to all mankind. Three conclusions: every human being everywhere is entitled to freedom, equality, and democracy.”

Gelernter, drawing from the teachings of the Puritans, anchors the two premises and three conclusion in the Bible. If you have even a passing interest in the history of the country and how it became what it is, then you must read the article. He effectively demonstrates and explains the thinking of the Puritans and those who came later that supports Americanism.

American Zionism

There is more – much more – to Americanism than what Gelernter has presented thusfar. Americanism is not just a philosophy or premise: Americanism is a where, a who, and a why:

“To sum up Americanism’s creed as freedom, equality, and democracy for all is to state only half the case. The other half deals with a promised land, a chosen people, and a universal, divinely ordained mission. This part of Americanism is the American version of biblical Zionism: in short, American Zionism.”

Four critical points in American history – “turning points” – illustrate the presence and practice of Americanism during the past 200+ years. The first was at the birth of the United States when the colonies proclaimed their independence from the United Kingdom. The second was the Civil War, the third World War I, and the fourth the cold war which followed World War II.

Gelernter provides numerous examples from history to support his argument. He cites speeches and comments from revolutionary figures, Woodrow Wilson, Harry Truman, and Ronald Reagan to illustrate his points. Most persuasive of all, perhaps, is his depiction of Abraham Lincoln as one who understood and subscribed to Americanism.

“Lincoln’s understanding of [the Civil War], writes Edmund Wilson, ‘grew out of the religious tradition of the New England theology of Puritanism.’ In 1862, Lincoln made ‘a solemn vow before God’ to free the South’s slaves. William Wolf notes that this vow was ‘more in conformance with Old Testament than with New Testament religion,’ was ‘imbedded in Lincoln’s biblical piety,’ and ‘came to him as part of the religious heritage of the nation.’ The ‘climactic expression of his biblical faith, according to Wolf, was the Second Inaugural address, [which] ‘reads like a supplement to the Bible. In it there are fourteen references to God, four direct quotations from Genesis, Psalms, and Matthew, and other allusions to scriptural teaching’ . . . If Americanism is a religion, this is its holiest document after the Bible and the Declaration; and Lincoln is its greatest prophet.”

Anti-Americanism

Having explained what Americanism is, Gelernter then turns his attention to the seemingly ubiquitous hatred of Americanism in general and George W. Bush in particular. It is the perceived sense of mission, moral superiority, and arrogance that foments so much resentment in other parts of the world. He says,

“That Americanism is the successor of Puritanism is crucial to anti-Americanism . . . In the 19th century, European elites became increasing hostile to Christianity – which inevitably entailed hostility to America. In modern times, anti-Americanism is closely associated with anti-Christianism and anti-Semitism.

“Anti-Americans are still fascinated and enraged by Americans’ bizarre tendency to believe in God . . . Londoners [comment] that ‘the United States is one giant fundamentalist Christian nation peopled by raging Bible-thumpers on every street’; that America is ‘running wild with religious extremism that threatens the world far more than bin Laden.’

“And we needn’t go to . . . Britain to find angry denunciations of President Bush and the Americans who support him in religion-mocking terms. The President’s faith, said one prominent American politician in September 2004, is ‘the American version of the same fundamentalist impulse that we see in Saudi Arabia, in Kashmir, and in many religions around the world.’

“The speaker was former Vice President Al Gore.”

At the close of his remarkable essay, Gelernter’s support and defense of Americanism becomes clear. He rebukes Gore before concluding his article:

His comments were offensive and false. Today’s radical Islam is a religion of death, a religion that rejoices in slaughter. The radical Christianity known as Puritanism insisted on choosing life. Americanism does, too.

Puritans took to heart these famous words from the Hebrew Bible: “I have set before you this day life and death, blessing and curse: therefore choose life and live, you and your children” (Deuteronomy 30:19).

It is to Puritanism, Gelernter concludes, that America and Americanism owes their existence: “we are [its] heirs; and we ought to thank God that we have inherited [its] humanitarian decency along with [its] radical, God-fearing Americanism.”

A Christian Response and Corrective

Gelernter is a compelling and forceful writer, but also compassionate and empathetic. His points on America’s indebtedness are well-taken, and he calls us back to what has made and kept the country great for more than two centuries. His is a voice to which we should listen carefully and thoughtfully.

Interestingly, many of his arguments and observations were foreshadowed by Bruce Shelley, Senior Professor of Church History and Historical Theology at Denver Theological Seminary, in his 1982 book, Church History in Plain Language. Shelley adds breadth, depth, and a more biblical perspective to Gelernter’s article. He opens his chapter on Puritanism, The Rule of the Saints, with an analysis of Puritan pastor John Cotton’s farewell sermon to emigrants embarking to the New World:

“Cotton declared that like the ancient Israelites these immigrants [sic.] were God’s chosen people, headed for the land he had promised and prepared. In this new land they would be able to labor undisturbed for the glory of God.

“There you have a snapshot of Puritanism: the Bible, the covenanted people of God, and their divine mission in the world . . . Puritanism provided for Christians of every generation a model of the Christian life as a decisive commitment to Jesus Christ and how that life of the soul expresses itself in the public arena, in a nation governed by the truths of the Bible.”

Although Puritanism thrived primarily in (ironically) Massachusetts, where the colony’s unique charter did not require legal tolerance of other faiths, the Puritan mindset – Americanism, to use Gelernter’s term – was to be found throughout the colonies. Shelley continues,

“Puritanism . . . began with an individual’s experience of the redeeming grace of God but moved on to stress the elect’s mission in the world, the shaping of society according to biblical principles. In its emphasis upon the interior life of the saint, Puritanism was a taproot of later evangelical Christianity with its born again message. In its stress upon a disciplined ‘nation under God’ and his laws, it contributed significantly to the national character of the American people.”

Martyrs and Hermeneutics

Early in his discussion, however, Shelley makes a very important observation that provides insight into when and how Puritanism in New England may have strayed from its biblical roots. It is an important corrective of Gelernter’s otherwise outstanding discussion. Shelley notes,

“The Puritans, however had more than their Geneva Bibles. They had a sense of destiny, a vision of God’s purpose among men and nations. The idea that the Almighty moves in the affairs of men is traceable, to be sure, to the Bible. But the concept that the pilgrimage of God’s people spanned the centuries and led at last to England was from another book. John Foxe, in his highly popular Book of Martyrs, planted this idea in the minds of Englishmen.

“Like the Geneva Bible, The Book of Martyrs was a product of the English exile during the reign of Bloody Mary. Foxe marshalled account after account of the suffering of faithful Protestants who dared to die – if need be – for the triumph of God’s kingdom. According to Foxe, this trail of martyrs led to the shores of England and to the reign of Mary. The conclusion seemed clear: God had a special place for the English people in his worldwide plan of redemption.

“The influence of The Book of Martyrs proved enormous. Generation after generation of Englishmen saw history, and read their Bibles, through Foxe’s eyes. Aside from the Bible, his book probably did more to shape the mind of Englishmen than any other single volume. Less than half a century after Foxe’s death, Puritans carried his work and his philosophy of history – along with their English Bibles – across the Atlantic, into the American wilderness . . .

“Most of the basic beliefs of the evangelicals could be found in Puritanism: the sinfulness of man, the atoning death of Christ, the unmerited grace of God, the salvation of the true believer. But Puritanism was more concerned with politics. It tried to create the holy commonwealth, the true Bible society, in England and America.

“The evangelicals were not detached from politics, as the Pietists were, but there controlling passion was the conversion of the lost. They were less concerned about the reform of churches and more intent upon the preaching of the gospel to all . . . “

The basis for Americanism is not, as Gelernter asserts, to be found in the Bible but rather in Foxe’s influential The Book of Martyrs. It is by reading the Bible, as Shelley notes, through Foxe’s eyes that Americanism is seen and promoted. Americanism is not automatically wrong because it is not directly derived from the Bible, but it is misleading to suggest that its origins lie in Scripture.

In addition to the influence from Foxe, the hermeneutic employed by the Puritans leaves much to be desired. Hermeneutics is the science of translating and understanding the message of the Bible and, although there are various schools of thought ranging from liberally allegorical to wildly literal, great care must be taken to keep from reading one’s own doctrines, desires, or delusions into the text. Exegesis is drawing mean from the text and is a good thing; eisogesis is reading into the text what is not there and is a bad thing.

The Puritans saw themselves as the new Israel, supplanting God’s chosen people of the Old Testament and stealing His promises to them. Israel’s destiny became the Puritan’s destiny. But this is not at all what the Bible teaches. While a development of this exegetical and theological issue is beyond the scope of this post, suffice it to say, along with Paul, that “God has not rejected His people whom He foreknew . . . a partial hardening has happened to Israel until the fullness of the Gentiles has come in; and so all Israel will be saved” (Rom 11.2, 25-26).

This may appear to be “proof-texting” on my part, but it is clear that God is not through with Israel. They have been His chosen people in the past, remain potentially chosen today, and will most definitely be chosen by Him in the future.

But God’s chosen – that is, elect – people today are not Americans or Englishmen or any other nation or ethnic group. God’s chosen people today are those believers in Jesus Christ wherever they may be found, whether in America, Iran, Iraq – even France. It is the Church – composed of actual believers, not merely attenders – and not America that is God’s elect at this time.

Pre-, A-, or Post-Millenial?

Almost in passing, Gelernter says that Americanism is “a millenarian religion.” Millenialism is the belief that Jesus Christ will rule on the earth. Premillenialist maintain that He will do this physically on the earth for 1,000 years as recorded in Rev 20.6 and other passages. Postmillenialist believe that the church will usher in the millenium through her efforts and then Christ will return at the end of the 1,000 years – which are usually viewed as symbolic and not literal years. Amillenialist do not believe in an earthly reign of Christ but that He rules spiritually in the hearts of His people; similar to the Postmillenialist, they also understand the 1,000 years as figurative and not literal language.

The pressing question that Gelernter does not answer or address, however, is what variation of millenialism is it? It is highly unlikely that it would be Premillenial, since most adherents of that position recognize that the church will never succeed in bringing the kingdom to a material fruition. The church will fail in her responsibilities even as Israel failed in her own.

Biblical Priorities

As noted at the beginning of this post, Americanism can be a good thing if kept within certain parameters. The question is, what are those parameters? Certainly Christians have a duty and responsibility to the society and culture in which they live, but where does one draw the line? A few suggestions and recommendations will bring this post to a close.

First, we must keep in mind that our lives on earth exist in a tension. Paul tells us submit to civil authorities (Rom 13.1-2) and to pray for our governmental leaders as well as our spiritual leaders (1 Tim 2.1-2), but he also reminds us not to be like those “who set their minds on earthly things. For our citizenship is in heaven, from which also we eagerly wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Php 3.19-20). When Pilate asked Jesus if He was truly a king, the Lord replied, “”My kingdom is not of this world” (Jn 18.36).

This world is important, to be sure, and the nation in which we live is a good one and one for which we ought to thank God and pray. But it is perilous for us to place our hopes and trust in this country or any other. We are to store up treasures in heaven and use our time and other resources to make an impact that will last for eternity and serve – not this nation but – the Kingdom of God.

To the extent that the purposes of this country coincide with the purposes of God, we must support the United States; when this country or any other goes beyond or against His purposes, we should not and cannot give ourselves to that mission. The Puritans, following the Bible, were correct in emphasizing personal faith in God; following Foxe, however, they were wrong when they claimed for themselves the promises that belonged to Israel and sought to establish a physical kingdom of God on earth.

As the great theologian “Dirty Harry” said, “A man’s got to know his limitations.” Perhaps, as Christians living in America, we have sought to “be all that we can be” instead of ordering our lives differently so that we might “become all that God means for us to be.”

Our local paper gives a lot of space to religious news and issues. It’s good business: there are a lot of religious people in the area, so giving a tip of the hat to spirituality sells papers. Which is to say, religion sells papers and that generates advertising and also increases advertising rates. The news, after all, is just something to wrap around the advertising: no advertising, no paper. (It was a humbling lesson to learn during my early, idealistic, self-important years of journalism.)

Given that religion sells in the Brazos Valley, I find it curious that the more conservative churches are not represented in the regular columns that appear on The Bryan-College Station Eagle’s “Faith and Values” pages. There is a local rabbi who contributes regularly, and the minister of the Unitarian Fellowship also has a weekly column. A Methodist minister does a regular piece and, from time to time, another Methodist minister does the same.

But there is nary a word from the more conservative Christian community. Nothing from the Baptists (Southern or otherwise), Lutherans (of any flavor), Presbyterians, or any of the numerous non-denominational churches. According to a nonscientific survey (I counted the churches in the Yellow Pages), there are 82 Baptist churches, 23 Lutheran congregations, and 16 fellowships aligned with the Church of Christ. But there are only 27 Methodist churches in the area. And two synagogues. One Unitarian Fellowship.

Just as surprising, perhaps, is the absence of any word from the Catholic priests: numerically, there are more Catholics in the valley than there are Protestants.

I can understand the silence from the Catholic Church: they’ve had a bit of a public relations nightmare of late. But where are the others?

I honestly don’t know. Perhaps the conservative types are too busy. Or maybe they don’t want anything to do with the secular press. Maybe they’re passively content to just talk to themselves in their own newsletters. Or, more likely, The Eagle is somewhat reticent to give voice to those Christians who might offend some of the more sensitive members of the community. Like the PC police.

But biblical Christianity is an offense. It is exclusive by nature: Christ is the only way to be acceptable to God. In an age where tolerance is the highest virtue – except when dealing with “intolerant” Christians – there is no lack of poor, persecuted, terribly sensitive people who simply fall apart if they have to be reminded that Christianity says that they’re not OK and that their nice little belief system isn’t going to cut it with the One Who Makes the Rules.

The firestorm over Mel Gibson’s movie last year demonstrated how offended some people either are or like to think they are. The local newspaper – like the area broadcast media – maybe likes to play it safe. And the gospel – the biblical gospel – in the hands of an eloquent conservative Christian is anything but safe.

Now, thankfully, we have the blogosphere in general and Godblogs in particular (see links at right). This can, of course, be either a blessing or a curse. But at least there will an opportunity for the biblical gospel to be made available to any and all free of charge.

The quote is variously attributed to the likes of Will Rogers, H.L. Mencken, Mark Twain, and even Al Capone:

“Whoever called it near beer was a poor judge of distance.”

The January 8th edition of the online version of the Bryan-College Station Eagle includes a column by Rev. Kip Gilts of A&M United Methodist Church entitled, “Accept the fresh start that God’s love offers.” It’s a nice thought, as far as it goes. But it seems like near beer to me.

Let me make it clear from the start that I do not know Rev. Gilts, although from his picture he looks like a decent enough fellow. And he grows a nice beard, something I cannot do (the curse of genetics or radiation poisoning or something). I do not know Rev. Gilts’ theology: I searched the A&M UMC website for a link to its statement of faith or a “What We Believe” section, but couldn’t find either. I did read several of his online sermons, but it’s difficult to ferret out someone’s beliefs based on what they don’t say.

Which brings me back to the newspaper column. Having spent 10-12 years as a journalist/copy editor/regional editor for a daily paper about the same size as The Eagle, I know that one cannot cover everything within a dozen or so inches of type, even online. Still, it’s not so much what Rev. Gilts doesn’t say that is problematic (although there’s a some difficulty there, too) as it is what he does say.

Rev. Gilt uses as his text Lamentations 3.22-24 and Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase, The Message, for his translation. It reads,

“God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over). He’s all I’ve got left.”

Beginning with this snippet from Jeremiah, Rev. Gilts goes on to expound a message about new things. “There is something enticing about new,” he says. Well, OK, I suppose. Not much to find fault with here. Just a few sentences later, however, Rev. Gilts gets to the heart of his sermonette:

“Is it any wonder that in the middle of the saddest book in the Bible, a book titled ‘Lamentations,’ newness is offered as an expression of hope? Lamentations are expressions of sorrow, mourning or regret. Yet in this book we find a glorious word: new. God’s merciful love, God’s loyal love is new every morning. The prophet was writing to a people who were under a dreadful siege. They were in the darkest hours of their lives. There the prophet offers hope. In the morning comes God’s love: a fresh start.

“We all could use a fresh start. There are times when our lives become like my old coffeepot: too slow, too sluggish, too bogged down with the same thing day after day until it can barely function. We can get that way. We need a fresh start. We need a new day, a new year.

“Well, happy new year. That day is here. What will you do with the fresh start? The prophet and other authors of the Scriptures agree that newness is most discovered not so much in the turning of the calendar as in the returning of the heart.

God gives us a fresh start as we come before him with a sincerity that accepts the newness he has to offer. The theologians call this grace, God’s incredible love that wipes the slate clean, smiles broadly as only a loving parent can and says, ‘Let’s start anew.’

“May you experience all the wonder of a happy new year filled with possibilities and promises of days in which God’s love is new every morning.”

Hmm. Is this really what Jeremiah is telling us? Is he talking about the hope of the new year and the hope of a new morning with a new, hopeful beginning? Well, not exactly. Just as importantly, what about the comment about grace, “God’s incredible love that wipes the slate clean, smiles broadly as only a loving parent can and says, ‘Let’s start anew.’” A wonderful thing only if it applies.

Let’s take the last one first. It must be understood that God is speaking here to His covenant people, to those to whom He has committed Himself. We are not all children of God in the sense that we belong to Him: we are all His creation, of course, but only those who by faith have left the race of Adam and become a new creation in the race of Jesus Christ are God’s children in a saving sense. To give the impression – intentionally or not – that everyone experiences God’s grace in the same way and to the same extent without saving faith is simply heresy.

But let’s return to the passage itself, not any fanciful notions imposed upon it. Jeremiah wrote Lamentations after the fall and razing of Jerusalem and the Temple, not during a siege (Jerusalem was under siege some years earlier, but it was by the Assyrians and not the Babylonians. There is little question about this among reputable Old Testament scholars. But this is perhaps a “minor” point.).

More importantly, the purpose of the Book of Lamentations has to do with suffering: it is essentially a funeral dirge for a past that has been lost and will never be recovered (Ellison in the Expositors Bible Commentary). As the Book of Job (and, I would argue, Ecclesiastes) deals with the suffering of one of God’s followers, Lamentations addresses the matter of national suffering for God’s elect people, i.e., the Jews. The residents of Jerusalem and the surrounding lands of Judah and Benjamin had believed that their city would never fall because the Temple of God was in its midst. Surely God would not allow His own house to be defiled, would He?

Yes, He would. And Lamentations is a collection of five laments describing the deep pain resulting from the destruction – or, more accurately, annihilation – of Jerusalem.

In the midst of these laments, however, Jeremiah introjects a brief message about individuals. It is an aside, almost, a parenthetical word of encouragement to God’s faithful. Here is the context of Rev. Gilt’s quotation:

“I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness,

the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed.
I remember it all – oh, how well I remember
- the feeling of hitting the bottom.
But there’s one other thing I remember
and, remembering, I keep a grip on hope.

“Yahweh’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,
his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.
They’re created new every morning.
How great is your faithfulness!
I’m sticking with Yahweh (I say it over and over).
He’s all I’ve got left.

“Yahweh proves to be good to the man
who passionately waits, to the woman who diligently seeks.

“It’s a good thing to quietly hope, to quietly hope for help from Yahweh. It’s a good thing when you’re young to stick it out through the hard times.

“When life is heavy and hard to take,
Enter the silence.
Bow in prayer.
Don’t ask questions: wait for hope to appear.
Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face.

“The ‘worst’ is never the worst.”

Is there anything there about new years and new days and new beginnings? Not really. Jeremiah’s message is about hope in God, not in tomorrow. Certainly God will work in the coming day, but to have one’s hope placed in something new is near beer. Our hope belongs one place and one place only, and that is in God. Jeremiah is telling God’s elect then and now that we cannot lose sight of the eternal because of what might be happening in our temporal, day-to-day existence.

Our hope is not in this lifetime. This is what Jeremiah means when he says, “I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over). He’s all I’ve got left.” Or, as The New Living Translation puts it, “Yahweh is my inheritance; therefore I will hope in Him!” It is because we have stored up treasures in heaven and not on earth that we can live above our circumstances. Whatever we might forfeit or lose in this lifetime will be more than made up for in the life to come.

No, Jeremiah is not talking about new coffee pots, new cars, new days, or new opportunities. He is talking about the faithfulness of a God who never changes, and whose committed love towards His people is fresh every morning. And therein lies our hope.

If you’re thinking about starting your own blog, here are two “musts” in getting started. First is Hugh Hewitt’s book Blog (available here). The other is Evangelical Outpost’s series on beginning a blog. Enjoy!