Category: Theology

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The Stargazing Christian Leader

By Jim Spiegel

In his classic work The Republic, Plato uses the analogy of a shipmaster to illustrate some important points regarding leadership of a state. In order to properly steer a ship to its destination (in Plato’s day anyway), the shipmaster must always consult the stars to orient himself geographically, since the stars are the only fixed directional guide out on the open sea. And yet one who observes a good shipmaster continually consulting the stars in this way might think he is distracted—an impractical stargazer!

The situation is similar with good Christian leaders, who are properly also theologians, since they, too, must constantly “look up” in the course of their work, consulting eternal, lofty truths as a directional guide. And they, too, might appear to be distracted from practical matters. Yet, they are actually being very practical. Like the shipmaster, they orient themselves morally and spiritually according to what is constant and unchanging in order to steer their “ship” (their local Christian community) through the turbulent waves of life.

So what are some of those immovable biblical truths according to which Christian leaders should steer their ships? It seems to me that a good Christian leader, whether a pastor or leader in a Christian school or other organization, must do two things: remind those they lead of their identity and their purpose. Many leaders fail to do this, perhaps because it seems to them ponderous, abstract, or simply impractical, given the many pressing issues they face. But I can’t imagine anything more practical than to know your identity and purpose as a Christian.

The apostle Paul, one of the leaders of the early Christian church, does exactly this in all of his epistles. A good case in point is Ephesians 2:1-10. In this passage Paul reminds us of who we were before our transformation in Christ: dead in our sins, slaves to fleshly desires, and servants of the devil, thus “by nature deserving of wrath.” He also notes who we are now—our identity as Christians: alive in Christ, saved by grace, and destined for eternal riches. These observations culminate in Paul’s remarkable observation about our purpose: that “we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works which God prepared in advance for us to do” (v. 10). That is, we are the handiwork of God who are also ourselves handiworkers. So Paul is telling us that we are working handiworks.

This might seem ponderous and abstract, but it is profoundly practical as all good theology is. And the practicality of these truths are evident in the fact that they are encouraging, affirming our value as children of God, and highly motivational. What could be more motivating than to know that your work has eternal significance?

So as a Christian leader, I will always dwell upon and remind those I lead regarding their identity and purpose in Christ. This might make me appear to be a theological stargazer, but it will help me get the ship I captain to its destination!

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Ho Ho No: Why the Santa Myth is Hazardous for Children

By Jim Spiegel

In American culture the Santa Claus story is generally considered to be a fun and entertaining aspect of the holiday season. Parents everywhere get a kick out of convincing their kids that Santa is real. This deception is, of course, reinforced through popular Santa songs, Santa films, and assorted books, games, and toys, such as the now popular Elf on the Shelf interactive toy which many parents use to motivate their kids to behave better, premised on the idea that the toy elf on their shelf is actually a moral scout for Santa.

Even committed Christians tend to see the Santa story as innocuous, though some find the tale of ole St. Nick to be an unfortunate or annoying distraction from the true meaning of Christmas—a celebration of the arrival of the Christ child to a world in need of salvation. Rarely, however, is the Santa myth regarded as a direct threat to Christian belief. After all, every adult understands that Santa isn’t real and that playing along with the story is, well, all in good fun. What danger could there be in the fable of a jolly, chubby old man soaring through the sky on a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer to bring joy to little boys and girls all around the world?

But let’s think this through. Consider the attributes of Santa Claus, according to the standard story. In order to visit the requisite 1.5 billion households worldwide, Santa would need to travel at a speed of more than 1,300 miles per second in an open sleigh while taking a fraction of a second (.0003 seconds, to be exact) to complete his deliveries at each stop. Such power over the laws of nature suggests something along the lines of omnipotence.

Furthermore, according to the Santa myth, he has exhaustive knowledge of all of our lives. As we all affirm when singing that popular Clausian hymn every Christmas season: “he sees you when you’re sleeping; he knows when you’re awake; he knows if you’ve been bad or good.” Clearly, then, Santa is also omniscient.

And, of course, Santa isn’t merely aware of these things. He is also our moral judge, making meticulous assessments of little boys and girls (and adults as well?). And Santa’s judgments have significant practical consequences in the form of rewards (wonderful presents) and punishments (bags of coal). Therefore, we had better “be good for goodness sake.” After all, Santa’s judgments are always right and executed with perfect justice. So Santa must also be perfectly good, an omnibenevolent being.

What all of this adds up to is a being who is all-powerful, all-knowing, and perfectly good—a being that is essentially divine. Of course, again, it’s just a silly popular story that we all know to be fictional. But that is not what millions of American parents tell their children. According to some surveys, as many as 85% of children in the United States believe that Santa Claus is real, in most cases, presumably, because their parents have told them so. Many parents personally embellish the tale and play along by, say, eating the cookies and drinking the milk that they leave out for Santa on Christmas Eve or by making a point of taking their kids to the mall to tell Santa what they want for Christmas. And when their kids get old enough to register skepticism about the whole story, they are often told to “just have faith.”

So what happens when a kid discovers that the Santa story isn’t true? Some aren’t disturbed too much by it. However, many of us vividly recall what a crushing realization this is. I certainly do. And for most kids the disappointment likely has nothing to do with the number of presents they believe they will receive in the future, since the discovery that there is no Santa Claus is likewise a discovery that one’s parents are reliable providers of Christmas gifts. Rather, this revelation is a discovery in the direction of naturalism—that the world is not as magical or enchanted as one had been led to believe by the most significant authorities in one’s life: one’s parents. What else have my parents been teaching me that is actually false? What other authorities in my life have been deluding me? No doubt the questions in the mind of an eight- or nine-year-old kid are not this well-formed, but this is the basic train of thought that I have heard adults report of their own experience as kids when first learning that the Santa story is fiction.

If the Santa myth ultimately serves to generally undermine a child’s belief in world-enchantment, the skeptical effect is more specifically associated with the classical theistic traits of Santa Claus. If a kid is told for years about this omnipotent, omniscient, omnibenevolent being, only to have faith in that being dashed, then how might this impact her regard for biblical teachings about a God possessing precisely these same attributes? Again, the skeptical associations may not necessarily be conscious, but this doesn’t mean they aren’t real.

This is on top of the more obvious problem with telling one’s kids that Santa is real, namely the fact that to do so is to lie to them. And it is not an inconsequential lie, I would argue. It’s difficult to see how a conspiracy of parental deceptions wouldn’t have the psychological effect of sowing distrust in a kid’s mind regarding their parents’ other teachings, including—perhaps especially—teachings of a theological nature.

So however popular and entertaining the Santa myth may be, deceiving one’s kids about Santa is problematic. The fact that it is a lie that undermines parental trustworthiness is sufficient reason for parents, especially Christian parents, not to participate in the deception. But the fact that it could also set kids up for religious skepticism might be the most compelling reason not to play along. Perhaps more of us ought to take seriously the possibility that the Santa story, for all it’s fun, is actually hazardous for children.

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The Starting Point of Sin

By Amy Spiegel

Some of you may know that month Jim, the kids, and I moved to southern Indiana as a result of his accepting a new position as head of school for Lighthouse Christian Academy in Bloomington. While this is the third time our family has moved premises, this was by far the biggest change of scene for us all. The distance wasn’t the only factor, though moving hours away is a far cry from the puddle jump moves we have made in the past. We were leaving behind the only community the kids have ever known, as home base at least. The church they were baptized in as infants; neighbors, schools, childhood friends, and on and on it goes. It has been disorienting to say the least.

Packing up the house, we discovered all sorts of things, some good and some not so good. Items we thought were lost were found; dirt and dust we didn’t know were accumulating was discovered, etc. And then we went about the process of repositioning old furniture in a new setting, sorting through forgotten boxes and deciding what to keep, what to pass on to others, and what to throw to the curb. This new setting has helped me to see our possessions in a new light, both literally and figuratively. And this is true of me as well.

The combination of quitting my job which, for the last two years has consumed so much of my time and energy, and moving out of the community I have spent my entire adult life in has been a great opportunity for self-reflection. For me, as I am sure it would be for many of you, self-reflection is usually an opportunity for self-berating. Critical evaluations of oneself aren’t always a bad thing, but too often I use it as a chance to focus on my flaws, cry to God about what a failure I am and crawl into a hole of embarrassment and shame.

Recently, however, I have been trying to take a different approach. I’ve been attempting to see my moral failings with gratitude. If I never see areas where I am weak, how can I grow strong? Yes, it’s unpleasant to have one’s frailties and faults exposed but the alternative is much worse. I must ask myself, do I want to have the appearance of goodness all the while hiding my sinful thoughts and deeds or do I want to expose them in order to grow?

Imagine going to the doctor because, while appearing perfecty healthy, you know there is something internally wrong with you.mThe nurse comes in and hands you one of those delightfully revealing paper gowns and tells you to get undressed so the doctor can diagnose the issue. Are you going to be uncomfortable? Clearly yes, but you have a choice: get uncomfortable and be exposed or stay clothed and continue to get sicker. We are faced with the same choice when dealing with our sin and the Great Physician. He cannot heal us unless He first exposes our disease.

Now I am not calling for some sort of celebration of sin. Not saying that we should all start indiscriminately dropping our metaphorical drawers and glorying in our exposed failures. There is both a time and place for sharing our sin through confession, both with God and with others. Just as none of us particularly want to see people traipsing through the malls in paper medical gowns, I don’t think we should go about broadcasting our moral failures in an attempt to normalize behavior which we are biblically told is wrong.

What I am calling myself to do is to see my sin coming into focus as a starting point to begin from rather than a finish line I failed to cross. From this starting point, I can start the journey, first to repentance and then to growth and freedom. The diagnosis is just the first step; it doesn’t immediately bring the cure. But it is a necessary one without which there can be no healing.

This move was not one that I looked forward to. But I am grateful for the chance to see myself in a different light and to grow as a result. One day, I will make my final move, from earth to my heavenly home. Then I will have the chance to see myself in the light of God’s Glory, clothed not in a flimsy exam gown but in Christ’s righteousness. Then I will be diagnosed, treated and cured, surrounded by the saints and home for good.

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A Biblical Tension Regarding Cursing the Wicked

By Jim Spiegel

One category of biblical psalms is the so-called “imprecatory psalm.” These are psalms which invoke God’s harsh judgment upon those who do evil or otherwise oppose the things of God. One of the most severe among these is Psalm 109, authored by King David:

1 My God, whom I praise,
do not remain silent,
2 for people who are wicked and deceitful
have opened their mouths against me;
they have spoken against me with lying tongues.
3 With words of hatred they surround me;
they attack me without cause.
4 In return for my friendship they accuse me,
but I am a man of prayer.
5 They repay me evil for good,
and hatred for my friendship.

6 Appoint someone evil to oppose my enemy;
let an accuser stand at his right hand.
7 When he is tried, let him be found guilty,
and may his prayers condemn him.
8 May his days be few;
may another take his place of leadership.
9 May his children be fatherless
and his wife a widow.
10 May his children be wandering beggars;
may they be driven from their ruined homes.
11 May a creditor seize all he has;
may strangers plunder the fruits of his labor.
12 May no one extend kindness to him
or take pity on his fatherless children.
13 May his descendants be cut off,
their names blotted out from the next generation.
14 May the iniquity of his fathers be remembered before the Lord;
may the sin of his mother never be blotted out.
15 May their sins always remain before the Lord,
that he may blot out their name from the earth. (NIV)

This creates a tension because Jesus says, “love your enemies and bless those who persecute you” (Mt. 5:44), and the Apostle Paul says, “bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse” (Rom. 12:14). Yet in Psalm 109 and other imprecatory psalms (e.g., Psalms 5, 35, 52, 54, 56-59, 79, 83, and 94) we find requests for calamity, suffering, and even destruction of the wicked, which is anything but blessing. So what gives here? How do we reconcile these biblical passages? On the one hand, we have psalmic prayers that implicitly enjoin us to pray calamities upon the wicked. On the other hand, we have Jesus and Paul admonishing us to bless and not curse. How might this tension be resolved?

Here are some ways of dealing with the problem that I’ve heard some people propose:

  1. The imprecatory psalms are not model prayers. They are not normative so much as insights into the emotional states of the psalmists which accurately reflect our own states of mind when dealing with injustice and wickedness. It is easy to see why most evangelical scholars would reject this approach, as it essentially suggests that there are elements of the psalmic prayers that one ought not to follow, the implication being that following the Psalms in some cases would be unwise or even sinful. Furthermore, this creates a dangerous slippery slope. Where does such suspicion of the psalms stop? Must we then question the wisdom of all of the Psalms?
  2. The New Testament ethic differs from that in the Old Testament. In Old Testament times certain judgmental, even condemning ways of dealing with the wicked were appropriate, but with the coming of Christ we have a different ethic, a revised moral standard. The problem with this approach is that it does violence to the moral unity of Scripture. While it must be granted that the levitical and civil aspects of the Old Testament law were abrogated with the advent of Christ, the moral law remains constant. To suggest that the Psalms recommended an action that Jesus condemned is to suggest that moral goodness itself is mutable. This is unacceptable.
  3. The imprecatory psalms don’t really invoke curses upon the wicked. Yes, they are requests that God bring pain and misfortune upon them, but these do not rise to the level of a genuine “curse.” Unfortunately for this approach, by any reasonable definition of the term, the calamities requested by David in Psalm 109 definitely qualify as curses. Merriam-Webster defines a curse as “a prayer or invocation for harm or injury to come upon one” and Dictionary.com says that to curse is “to wish or invoke evil, calamity, injury, or destruction upon” someone. Surely, by these definitions, David’s requests that his enemy would die, that his children would be impoverished and homeless, and that his sins never be forgiven qualify as a curse.

So none of these options look promising to me. At this point, I believe the best—though not entirely satisfactory—way to deal with this tension is to say that such imprecatory prayers as we find in Psalm 109 might be made in a spirit of blessing, in the sense that one might pray that God would bring such calamities upon a wicked person in order to prompt their repentance, which of course is always a blessing. And one might pray that the loss of descendants and the loss of forgiveness only come as a condition of the wicked person’s refusal to repent and persistence of defiance of the Lord, which is only just. Of course, such a hellish eternal destiny for the wicked is anything but a blessing. But the person praying in this way may nonetheless hope for the person’s repentance while also affirming the justice of God in condemning them if they do not repent. Finally, the loss of descendants can be seen as redemptive at least in the sense that this would mitigate the negative effects of the sins of the wicked down through succeeding generations.

I acknowledge that this way of dealing with this biblical tension is not ideal. At the end of the day, Psalm 109 and other imprecatory psalms present us with a serious challenge as to how we should prayerfully regard the wicked. I welcome any alternative suggestions as to how we might resolve this tension.

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Lessons from the Road

By Amy Spiegel

The past year has been a rough one for all of us. The pandemic has hit everyone in one way or another. Diminished freedom, closed businesses, canceled travel plans, school shutdowns and of course the deaths of loved ones. As most of you know, over the last nine months, outside of the pandemic our family has been on a rather painful and frightening journey. Not only was Jim unexpectedly fired from his job, but he also lost two dear friends in a tragic accident, our beloved dog passed away from cancer at only 5 years old, and our youngest son, Andrew, broke his arm in what seemed like a routine fall while playing basketball. All of these events have left me emotionally drained and frankly perplexed; wondering what God’s plan is for our future, asking how we can appease Him to make the compounding losses stop. But the past months have also left me with some insights that I wanted to share, in the midst of the story, rather than at the “end.” While Andrew’s arm has healed and he is back on the courts, Jim is still looking for employment and, to put it bluntly, Ben, Meg and Penny are still dead. My hope is that as you deal with your own tragedies, disappointments and trials, some of my observations can come in handy and I want to share them before the curtain closes on this particular season for us, when they are harder to affirm and seem less inevitable. Most mothers will tell you all the pain was worth it when they are holding their baby in their arms, but fewer by far will say the same in the throes of labor pains. Most travelers will say it was worth the journey when they are sitting by the fireside, but rare is the content person when lost and low on gas.

Lesson One: No one knows what tomorrow brings. Repeatedly since August, when Jim was terminated, I have said “I don’t care where we go. I just want to know.” As different job opportunities have come and gone, I have embraced the idea of moving to the city, moving to the country, staying where we are and moving far away. Any of these prospects would be hard, but for someone like myself who loves to plan and organize (read: someone who is a total control freak), none would have been as nearly as hard as not knowing. A week or so ago, when another seemingly viable job opportunity dead-ended, Jim told me he felt God telling us to be still and wait. Well, duh, what else could we do? But there is waiting and then there is waiting. I have been waiting like a five year old on a road trip, kicking the back of God’s seat, asking “Are we there yet?” every two minutes. I am trying, semi-successfully, to wait as in “wait upon the LORD…” kind of waiting. And doing so has stilled something inside, loosened my grip on the future, and made me realize I may not know what lies ahead, but this is nothing new. I thought I knew before, when we got up on that morning last fall like hundreds of other mornings. Ben and Meg thought they knew when driving home from their date night in November. You, dear reader, think you know right now. But, unbeknownst to us, the decision had been made and the driver was going too fast to stop. And unbeknownst to you, the detour could be straight ahead. Who knows? I know who doesn’t know, and that’s you and me. Acknowledging that God has planned this trip long before you could read a map, and that this detour isn’t really a “change of plans” at all can bring a peace that passes understanding. I have cried out “Just tell me what to want and I will want it. This job? That job? No job? I’m good with anything. I just want to know.” And God has repeatedly answered “Just want me and let the rest sort itself out.” Such an annoyingly wise and beneficial truth. It’s just like God to tell us exactly the opposite of what we want to hear, but in a way that is exactly what we need to hear. I have no doubt I will still kick and whine from the backseat in the future, but by God’s grace I will do so fewer times before we arrive “home.”

Lesson Two: God is faithful whether you are happy or not. If you know me at all, you know that I love and respect my parents beyond measure. My folks have been absolute rocks, praying for and encouraging us on a daily basis. As we have waited for news on various job leads, my dad has texted or called to say, “God is faithful.” This, of course, is true. He is faithful to His plans, to His glory and to our ultimate good. But that doesn’t mean He is faithful to provide for our happiness. So each time, my dad has reminded me of God’s faithfulness, I have reminded him that God’s faithfulness does not equate to my happiness. I have never doubted God’s faithfulness. But I serve a god who has allowed His prophets to be jailed, His saints to be martyred, and His Son to be killed. Even Jesus asked for a quick change of plans in the garden. But here’s the thing: when God is faithful to His plans, His glory and our ultimate good, that should be enough to make us happy. It’s like the saying “When Mama’s happy, everyone’s happy.” That’s not because Mama is selfish. It’s because she is the heart of the home and out of her happiness flows the service, planning and love that provides for everyone else. God is the heart of creation and out of His will flows salvation for us all. So maybe my dad was right after all, darn it; my happiness does rest in God’s faithfulness. It just might not be the quick fix sort of happiness I long for; but the kind that His prophets, martyrs and Son are enjoying even now, the kind that lasts forever.

Lesson Three: There comes a time to wipe your eyes and start faking it. This lesson came from my co-worker, a 6’5” giant Nigerian man I call my little brother. When he told me that maybe it was time to stop hiding under my desk and crying, it really annoyed me. Didn’t he know how hard the last months had been? Didn’t he understand the emotional load I was carrying? Didn’t he get it? Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t; either way, though, he was right. The grief we have experienced is real and has changed our family forever. But we are still alive; we still have work to do and there comes a time when you have to get back at it. I think Jim has been much better at this than I have, pouring himself into his music and using his time wisely. I have obviously kept working and kept busy with the kids, but my thoughts have been consumed by our situation. Analyzing it, planning for what’s next, talking through all the “what ifs” ad nauseam, opening up the wounds again and again. Sometimes I can’t help being overwhelmed by the emotion of it all. I just don’t have a lot of buffer to absorb any additional blows. Some things send me back under the desk for a brief time out. Like the time the kids convinced me Maggie had shaved her head and was really upset. But after a few minutes, I have to get back in my chair and go back to work. I don’t want to allow our circumstances to blind me to the struggles of others around me. Just because we are having a tough time doesn’t mean everyone else is off in Candyland having a grand ole time of it. It’s amazing how reaching out to encourage others helps my wounds to heal a little faster. It’s like playing “I Spy” to pass the time on a road trip; being more attentive to the world around you really does make the journey less tiresome.

I hope these reflections are helpful to you, whatever you are currently experiencing. If you are in a season of sorrow, may they bring comfort to you. If you are in a season of joy, may they serve as a “caution ahead” sign; not to diminish the happiness of today but to prepare you for any rough road that might lie ahead.

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The Temptations of Intellectual Pride

By Jim Spiegel

Many times over the years people have asked me about the dangers and pitfalls of studying philosophy, particularly for a person of faith. Usually the questioner has worries about the subject matter of philosophy—the questions that philosophers ask and, especially, wayward ideas that abound in the field, from metaphysical naturalism to moral relativism, which are inimical to a Christian faith perspective. In answering the question, I usually make a couple of observations. One is to acknowledge that, yes, there are many hazards involved in philosophical inquiry as regards the ideas and arguments one encounters in the field. And yes, it is possible for a well-intended Christian philosopher to be duped by what the Apostle Paul calls “hollow and deceptive arguments” (Col. 2:8). I have seen this happen to many people over the years. But I have seen it happen just as frequently, if not more so, in other fields, especially in the social sciences. So philosophical studies should not be singled out as the academic field most hazardous to one’s spiritual health. Moreover, I believe the potential upside of Christ-centered philosophical studies to be greater than that of any academic field, aside from theology.

Another observation is that when it comes to spiritual hazards in academic pursuits, the biggest culprits are not particular subjects, ideas, or arguments but rather human vices that are often occasioned by academic inquiry generally, including but not limited to philosophical studies. Here I am thinking especially about intellectual pride. I can think of at least four ways in which serious academic pursuits present temptations to intellectual pride.

One such temptation is the desire for absolute intellectual autonomy, the impulse to work things out for oneself when it comes to worldview and questions about all sorts of issues, including one’s ultimate values and the meaning of life. Of course, a certain amount of intellectual autonomy is good and proper, even necessary for human maturity. But taken to the extreme, where a person denies, even if only tacitly, the authority of Scripture over one’s life and belief system, this is, from a Christian perspective, most certainly a vice.

Another related temptation is the inclination to dismiss scriptural authority or particular biblical passages because of confusing passages and a lack of philosophical sophistication. While what has traditionally been called the perspicuity of Scripture (the clarity of its meaning, at least on the most central issues, for ordinary readers) is commonly hailed as a hallmark of its divine inspiration, someone who is trained in rigorous logical analysis may be tempted to question this because Scripture’s assertions and narratives are sometimes cryptic, confusing, or even crudely articulated and not what a trained academic, such as an analytic philosopher might “expect” from a divinely inspired text.

Thirdly, rigorous academic training and the pursuit of rational accounts and demonstrable explanations for phenomena can tempt a person toward a disinclination to be content with mysterious aspects of Christian doctrine. Appeals to mystery can sound like a cop-out to the serious academician (never mind the fact that everyone relies on significant articles of faith at the foundation of their belief system—e.g., the laws of logic, the general reliability of sense perception, the law of causality, and even the existence of other minds), and for this reason the Christian scholar may be tempted to deny or disparage the role of mystery in her belief system.

Finally, the fact that academicians tend to be endowed with significant intellectual gifts—which partly explains why they become academicians in the first place—is itself a source of temptation. Such people tend to have greater mental adroitness, and this brings with it skills for profound insight and innovation but also for rationalizations and obscuring moral truths. Intellectual gifts, like all human talents, are a double-edged sword, both a blessing and a curse. A significant aspect of the latter is the temptation it presents for the intellectually gifted person to effectively deploy her acumen to warp, undermine, or obfuscate otherwise plain biblical teachings, especially as these regard Scripture’s moral standards and the obligations they impose on us.

Augustine maintained that the root of all human sin is pride, which is essentially arrogant self-satisfaction. C. S. Lewis agrees, noting that “the essential vice, the utmost evil, is pride. Unchastity, anger, greed, drunkenness, and all that, are mere fleabites in comparison: it was through pride that the devil became the devil: Pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind” (from Mere Christianity).

Any gifts or talents with which God blesses us may be occasions for pride, and this is especially true of intellectual gifts, for the reasons I’ve noted. This might explain why there are so many biblical warnings and rebukes regarding intellectual pride. The book of Job culminates with the Lord showing Job the puny reach of his understanding. The writer of Ecclesiastes calls the pursuit of wisdom under the sun “a chasing after the wind.” And Jesus highlights how some of the greatest insights are “hidden…from the wise and the learned and revealed…to little children” (Mt. 11:25).

We would all do well to keep this in mind, especially those of us who are academicians. If not properly tethered by a humble submission to God and the authority of Scripture, our intellectual gifts may actually become a hindrance to understanding, amounting to more of a curse than a blessing. As the Apostle Paul says, “Where is the wise person? Where is the teacher of the law? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? … [T]he foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength” (1 Cor. 1:20-25).

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Why the Last Shall be First

By Jim Spiegel

A recurrent theme in Jesus’ teachings in the Gospels is the so-called “upside-down kingdom”—the idea that the stations of human beings in the next world will be the reverse of what they are in this world. For example, in Luke 9 we read that “An argument started among the disciples as to which of them would be the greatest. Jesus, knowing their thoughts, took a little child and had him stand beside him. Then he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. For it is the one who is least among you all who is the greatest’” (vs. 46-48). And in Matthew 20:16 Jesus sums this up by saying “the last will be first and the first will be last.”

I have long wondered why God set it up this way. Why should the least here be the greatest in the kingdom of God?  And for a long time my best answer was that there is a certain beauty in this—that God would choose this way of doing things for aesthetic reasons. Such irony, after all, makes for a more compelling artistic narrative, right? I still think this is true, but now I believe the fundamental reason is more straightforward. It has to do with our proper place as creations of God. In short, we were made to serve, to be God’s subjects. This is a fundamentally humble role, of course. And although plainly biblical, we are chafed by it because we are naturally prideful. (Even many Christian organizations which claim to emphasize servanthood only do so by using the term “servant” as an adjective describing “leadership,” a fact which shows just how problematic “servanthood” is from a marketing standpoint.).

Human beings, like all other beings in the universe, were created to serve God. And as rational, conscious beings, we were designed to choose to serve God. Such humility is, as I have argued in several places, our proper place and highest virtue (as indicated by the Kenosis passage in Phil. 2:5-11). To be among the least, in an intentional and voluntary way, is to demonstrate the will to serve, a desire to assume one’s proper place in a universe ruled by a sovereign God. In short, then, what I am proposing is that the reason for the “upside-down” kingdom, that the last will be first and the least will be greatest, is that choosing to serve effectively demonstrates the will to fulfill one’s created purpose, to do the job God made us to do. Such a commitment, therefore, isn’t just symbolically or metaphorically “great.” It really is true greatness.

The irony we see in this is only due to the fact that, as fallen human beings we are so disinclined to recognize our proper place of humble subjection to God. We have a natural, sinful tendency to want to be first and to have others serve us, not vice versa. And the overwhelming majority of human beings act accordingly. From such a perspective, Jesus’ teaching is strikingly paradoxical and counter-intuitive. But, again, if God is the sovereign ruler of the cosmos who has created all people to serve him, it’s not really paradoxical at all, nor should it be counter-intuitive to those who have embraced and fully interiorized his lordship. It is neither paradox nor even irony. It is just a basic fact of reality.

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Unconditional Forgiveness

By Jim Spiegel

This Christmas we once again celebrated the arrival to earth of the Messiah, whose mission was to achieve forgiveness of the sins of humanity. Naturally, then, the Advent season should prompt us to reflect on our own sins as well as how we may “pay forward” Christ’s work to others. This involves forgiving one another’s sins.

But to what extent should we forgive others? Should our forgiveness of others’ sins be unconditional? There is some debate about this among Christian theologians and ethicists. For example, Doug Geivett maintains that forgiveness is properly premised on the repentance of the offender, and the writer of this article takes the view that a Christian may forgive the unrepentant but need not do so. Similarly, Roger Olson maintains that unconditional forgiveness is a supererogatory act (above and beyond the call of duty). Then there is Lewis Smedes who took the view that the Christian should be willing to forgive unconditionally. I’m inclined to agree with Smedes, maintaining that the Christian should always and in every case forgive those who sin against them, whether or not they ever repent or apologize. While we have a duty to confront those who sin against us, their failure to repent is not grounds for our withholding our forgiveness. (Also, importantly, this view does not entail that we must maintain a relationship with those whom we forgive.)

Here are some reasons why I take this position. First and foremost, there is the model of Christ’s unconditional forgiveness. Jesus forgave even those who were crucifying him, obviously without repentance, praying “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Lk. 23:34). This a major reason why I find it difficult to imagine that on Judgment Day Jesus will say to me, “You know, Spiegel, one thing you really got wrong is you were just too forgiving.” I certainly can imagine Jesus correcting us for failing to confront people for their sin (cf. Mt. 18:15-17). But rebuking us for being overly forgiving strikes me as absurd.

Secondly, God’s commands to forgive others are unqualified. The Apostle Paul tells us to “Put on . . . compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive” (Col. 3:12-14). This point is powerfully illustrated in Jesus’s parable of the unmerciful servant in Matthew 18, which concludes with an absolute injunction to forgive others and a sobering warning of coming judgment “unless you forgive your brother from your heart” (v. 35).

Thirdly, consider the Golden Rule. All of us desire to be forgiven by others when we sin against them and not only when we apologize. We naturally desire grace in such cases, the extension of mercy even prior to our repentance. After all, it is sometimes such mercy which prompts our repentance and a deeper resolve to live rightly. Therefore, if we should treat others as we would want others to treat us, then we should extend forgiveness unconditionally.

Finally, forgiving others unburdens one’s soul. Nothing oppresses the mind like a grudge, which as someone once said, is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die. Unfettered resentment corrodes the soul and adversely affects one’s relationships and personal well-being, while forgiveness is beneficial to one’s mental health and physical health. So forgiveness is very much in one’s own self-interest.

Many Christians maintain that forgiveness is properly contingent on the offender’s confession or apology. Why? I believe one reason is the sheer difficulty of forswearing condemnation of someone when they have been abused or otherwise treated in a severely unjust way. It is not easy to surrender resentment in such cases, which is why absolute forgiveness is an act of profound faith and, therefore, a blessed thing, worthy of eternal reward.

Perhaps another reason is that forgiveness seems to let a person “off the hook” and leaves them somehow unaccountable for their sin. But this is not so, since we are all subject to God’s judgment in the end, as we are told repeatedly in Scripture. In Ecclesiastes are told, “Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind. For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil” (Eccl. 12:13-14). Similarly, Paul says, “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad” (2 Cor. 5:10). Even if I am completely forgiving of someone, that person still must give account to God for what they have done to me. And this should be a great solace to us, further inducing us to freely forgive others.

Like everyone else, this past year has provided me with plenty of opportunities to be resentful and hold grudges against those who sinned against me. But I rest in the knowledge that God is a perfect judge. Whether I forgive someone, God will still punish or discipline the offender, perhaps even severely. As Jeremiah says, “The Lord is a God of retribution; he will repay in full” (Jer. 51:56b). How could my personal condemnation or grudge ever improve upon God’s perfect justice anyway? This is another reason that resentment is a fool’s game.

This year I have spent a lot of time meditating on Psalm 37, which begins with these powerful lines:

Do not fret because of those who are evil
or be envious of those who do wrong;

for like the grass they will soon wither,
like green plants they will soon die away.

Trust in the Lord and do good;
dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.

Take delight in the Lord,
and he will give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the Lord;
trust in him and he will do this:

He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn,
your vindication like the noonday sun. (Ps. 37:1-6)

These are reassuring and inspiring promises, which effectively fuel the Christian’s will to forgive. In the end, God will have his perfect way with the wicked as well as with misguided fellow believers who sin against us. And if we really have been treated unjustly, he will vindicate us eventually (as he did Joseph in Genesis 50, Daniel in Daniel 6, and, of course, Jesus himself). So we need not fret that justice will not be done or that evil will triumph. God will set things right. Let us forgive unconditionally, then. To do so is an act of great faith, guaranteeing reward in the next life and peace of mind in the present.

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Remembering my Friend, Ben Arbour

By Jim Spiegel

Aristotle said there are three kinds of friendships: those based on utility, those based on pleasure, and those based on a shared commitment to the good—wisdom and other moral virtues. Most of our friendships fall into the first two categories. Aristotle tells us that rare are those friendships truly grounded in a mutual pursuit of virtue. So I consider myself blessed to have had several of these friends. Humanly speaking, they are the principal reason I display any virtue or wisdom myself. Such friends are absolute treasures, benefitting us not only here but for all eternity. Because the joy and blessings they bring are so immense, losing them is especially difficult. Last week I lost such a friend—Ben Arbour, as he and his wife, Meg, perished in a car accident near their home in Fort Worth, Texas.

It was nine years ago that Ben introduced himself to me at a meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society. I was instantly struck by his exuberance, wit, and sharp critical mind. “You and I have a lot in common and we need to get to know each other,” he declared. Thus commenced our friendship, which he initially characterized as a mentoring relationship. But the truth is that I learned more from Ben than I ever taught him.

An irrepressible extrovert, Ben had a list of friends whom he would regularly call to discuss whatever was on his mind. And he constantly had a lot on his mind. Sometimes he would hit you with an argument he’d just dreamed up. Sometimes he would have a list of topics to discuss. Other times he would simply have a question. These conversations often pertained to some philosophical point, whether concerning the metaphysics of God and time, the ethics of human sexuality, or a practical implication of Berkeleyan idealism, but just as often his concerns were theological, ecclesial, or pastoral in nature.

I was just one person on Ben’s list of regular interlocutors. His philosophical-theological motor never turned off, seemingly even while he was at work, appropriately enough, as finance manager at Sewell Automotive. And sometimes he would begin these phone conversations by saying, “Jim, I have some great news.” To which I’d reply, “Yeah, what?” Then he would declare, “Jesus has risen from the dead, our sins are forgiven, and we will live forever with him for all eternity. Isn’t that great?” Indeed. And this reminder would suitably frame the discussion, debate, or goofy banter that would follow, just as Ben’s entire life was framed. He was a pure Gospel man.

Ben was also a multitrack thinker, known among his friends and colleagues for playing video games on his iPhone while attending highly technical conference presentations. The first time I witnessed this, I figured Ben was simply fatigued and had tuned out of the presentation. But when the speaker was finished and invited questions from the audience, Ben immediately piped up with the several apposite and incisive comments. This was typical for Ben, as I would eventually discover. It was also Ben’s routine, when especially intrigued or unsatisfied with the presenters’ responses to his questions, to pursue the discussion with the speaker outside of the conference room. And on at least two occasions he followed the presenters into the bathroom while doing so. I am thinking specifically of Robert Audi and Nicholas Wolterstorff, who, I am sure, handled Ben’s indefatigable questioning with grace and good humor.

Another fundamental aspect of Ben’s personality was his love for people, especially fellow Christians. He had a voracious appetite for fellowship, which always included rich conversation, clever wit, and good food. Ben was expert at two of these, and he tried to be a decent chef. I can’t say he always succeeded. But he did try. Thankfully, Meg more than made up for whatever Ben lacked in cooking skills.

Ben was also a sports fan, especially, and rather determinedly, of baseball. He frequently made known his conviction that baseball is the best of all sports (a conviction I share, so the matter occasioned no debate between us). Though seemingly trivial, somehow even this conviction of Ben’s was theological, and this carried through even to his rooting interests. For example, in the most recent World Series Ben pulled intensely for Los Angeles just because he was aware that Dodgers pitcher Clayton Kershaw is a committed Christian.

Ben was a great family man—a dedicated husband and father, and it was a joy to see him interact with his four sweet kids. In my last visit with the Arbours two weeks ago, I was struck by Ben’s tender, Socratic interaction with his youngest son, Noah, about some theological point. Ben’s fatherly care, his readiness to help Meg around the house, and the whole Arbour family dynamic of hospitality were a tangible testament to the man’s humility and genuine servant heart. “Mi casa es su casa,” Ben would say. And he meant it literally. The Arbour house constantly buzzed with guests, all of whom seemed to be special friends. One of Ben’s greatest pleasures was connecting his friends with one another. This was not merely some extrovert compulsion or professional networking but a ministry of catalyzing koinonia. It was a spiritual gift that easily surpassed that of the most socially inclined pastors I have known. Almost unconsciously effected, it was borne out of Ben’s boyish joy in the people of God.

Many a devout Christian talks a good game when it comes to intentionally and compellingly integrating the Gospel of Christ into every aspect of their life. Ben Arbour actually did this—to the delight of many and to the annoyance of some but to the benefit of everyone. Those who were close to Ben know how he was always encouraging, even when offering critical push back. Our final conversation two days before he died provides a good case in point. I had shared with Ben the possibility that I might take a teaching job at a school in Asia, which would require my being away from my family sixteen weeks each year. Rather than bluntly asserting that this was a bad idea, Ben simply said, “I don’t think I could handle being away from my wife that long. But maybe I’m just weak in that way.” This humble way of registering his reservations was particularly impactful. And it vividly illustrates the beauty of Ben Arbour as a third-level Aristotelian friend and faithful Christian brother

At this point I am still in the stage of grief that sometimes lingers in outright disbelief. It seems impossible that Ben is really gone. Eventually it will sink in, and I will grow accustomed to the fact that this world is no longer graced by his presence. In the meantime, I consciously remind myself of what Ben repeatedly reminded me: Jesus Christ has risen from the dead, our sins are forgiven, and we will live forever with him for all eternity. Crushing as it is for those of us who love them, Ben and Meg have together begun the next phase of their everlasting lives with Christ. Even now I can hear Ben’s voice: “Isn’t that great?” Yes, Ben. It surely is.

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An Antidote for Election Anxiety: Lessons from Proverbs 11

By Jim Spiegel

Reading through the book of Proverbs lately, I have been struck by how many passages are directly relevant to our times, especially heading into tomorrow’s elections. Among the many apropos themes in Proverbs, several are to be found in chapter 11. Here are some thoughts on some of these.

1 The Lord detests dishonest scales,
but accurate weights find favor with him.

There has been much talk of potential fraud and corruption with regard to the presidential election. While we all hope none of these worries will be realized, judging by the corruption elsewhere in the American politics, we cannot rule out the possibility that it will happen. But if it does, even if those who perpetrate such “dishonest scales” get away with it for now, they will eventually be found out and judged, if only in the next world. No one really “gets away” with anything.

2 When pride comes, then comes disgrace,
but with humility comes wisdom.

During this election cycle, as always, there has been much ballyhooing by many candidates, touting their own capacity to achieve justice and goodness in this country. In some cases, it does seem to be vicious pride, which will only bring disgrace in the end. Sadly, real humility seems rare in politics (as well as throughout the rest of mainstream American culture), though as we are reminded here, humility is the way of wisdom.

3 The integrity of the upright guides them,
but the unfaithful are destroyed by their duplicity.

5 The righteousness of the blameless makes their paths straight,
but the wicked are brought down by their own wickedness.

In the age of the “me too” movement we have seen many popular and powerful people brought down or undermined by accusations of sexual abuse and harassment. This includes some prominent politicians, including both of our current presidential candidates. Surely many other perpetrators are living with anxiety over whether eventually they will be publicly accused. But those who have remained pure and lived with integrity are free of these worries.

4 Wealth is worthless in the day of wrath,
but righteousness delivers from death.

6 The righteousness of the upright delivers them,
but the unfaithful are trapped by evil desires.

Many are prognosticating serious unrest following tomorrow’ elections, whatever the results. Some business owners in major cities are boarding up their storefronts, while others are arming themselves. Such tangible means of preparation may be appropriate, but they are not sufficient protection “in the day of wrath.” God protects his own—those who faithfully obey and honor him—and even the strongest human bulwarks against attack are fallible. This goes for the formidable American military as well. God could quickly bring this entire nation to its knees if he so willed.

7 Hopes placed in mortals die with them;
all the promise of their power comes to nothing.

For all of the passion we might have for certain politicians, religious leaders, or entertainers, they are all mere mortals who are destined to lie in a grave somewhere or be reduced to ash in an urn. Even the most powerful leaders eventually perish. All of the triumphs of Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, and Napoleon Bonaparte ultimately achieve little for them. As Jesus said, “what does it profit a man to gain the whole world but lose his own soul?” (Mk. 8:36).

9 With their mouths the godless destroy their neighbors,
but through knowledge the righteous escape.

11 Through the blessing of the upright a city is exalted,
but by the mouth of the wicked it is destroyed.

12 Whoever derides their neighbor has no sense,
but the one who has understanding holds their tongue.

In our culture the “mouths of the wicked” are seemingly on display everywhere—from media distortions and fake news to slander and personal abuse on social media. The godless (as well as believers who act godlessly) are destroying their neighbors all over this country. Through what knowledge can “the righteous escape”? By refusing to partake in such destructive verbal practices.

14 For lack of guidance a nation falls,
but victory is won through many advisers.

Perhaps one thing about which those on the left and the right can agree is that for many years the United States has suffered from a lack of wise guidance. We might also agree that because of this our nation is on the brink of collapse.

19 Truly the righteous attain life,
but whoever pursues evil finds death.

20 The Lord detests those whose hearts are perverse,
but he delights in those whose ways are blameless.

These two couplets capture much of the essence of the Bible’s central moral message. Those who live righteously—who consistently obey and honor God with their thoughts, words, and actions—will flourish, if not in this world then at least throughout eternity. But those who live ungodly lives never find lasting peace in this world and are destined for destruction in the next world.

21 Be sure of this: The wicked will not go unpunished,
but those who are righteous will go free.

So whatever the election outcomes, and no matter how chaotic the unrest which follows, we can rest in the confidence that everyone will be held accountable. The wicked will ultimately not get away with anything. The righteous will ultimately be rewarded. God is a perfect, all-seeing judge. This is why we can trust the promises of this psalmist who echoes some of the themes from Proverbs 11:

“Be still before the Lord
and wait patiently for him;
do not fret when people succeed in their ways,
when they carry out their wicked schemes.

Refrain from anger and turn from wrath;
do not fret—it leads only to evil.
For those who are evil will be destroyed,
but those who hope in the Lord will inherit the land” (Ps. 37:7-9).