We need people to go to cities, so we need to recruit them to do it.
The reality among those who consider ourselves to be Independent Baptists is that there are very few “like-minded” churches in cities, and the only way to resolve that issue is to plant some.
The unfortunate fact is that there are few individuals that are currently Independent Baptist that have any interest in doing this. I have no doubt God calls some to go, but right now the call is largely going un-answered.
We can wring our hands about this; I’ve certainly done my share of that. But, ultimately, we can either shake our heads in regret and leave things the way they are… or we can do something about it.
There is a significant need for an individual or institution to begin recruiting people to commit themselves to the ministry of planting churches in urban areas.
I’m inspired by an extremely unlikely example. One of the most remarkable efforts in modern missions that I have seen is the lifelong objective of Gary Forney to plant churches in the Arctic Circle. There is no harsher environment, physically and spiritually, than the Arctic regions of Canada, Alaska, and Russia. The towns are small and distant, both from larger population centers to their south and from each other. The indigenous peoples of many of these towns are skeptical of what is perceived to be Western religion and of temporary here-and-gone missionaries. And the environment is as punishing and difficult as exists on this planet.
Yet upon his death a couple of years ago, Gary Forney left in his wake a legacy of New Testament churches dotting the Arctic regions of Canada, Alaska, Iceland, and Russia. In the Canadian Territories, with a combined population of perhaps 100,000, there are seven churches that exist as a result of the ministry of Gary Forney, in some of the most remote places on Earth. It is an astonishing legacy.
It is hard or impossible to find an environment more different from American urban areas than the Arctic Circle, but they share one key characteristic for our purposes: Independent Baptists aren’t naturally inclined to go to either place.
Forney was not a “big name” in Independent Baptist churches during his time; I know few people who remember him. I never heard of him before or during Bible college. But while he did not develop a large profile or preach at big conferences every year, he did spend significant effort recruiting. And that effort continues to bear fruit, including a well-stocked mission board and young families preparing and going to the mission field to this day.
We need a sustained recruiting effort to reach American cities. Men need to be encouraged to plant churches, not just in metro areas, but in cities themselves. This should be promoted in large numbers of Bible colleges and it should be promoted in preaching conferences and church planting conferences. I think branding can be overdone, but it would be good to have a “branded” effort that was consistent enough that pastors and students grow to recognize it over the course of years, much as an effort like Baptist Church Planting Ministries is well known not just for its actual work but for the larger church planting focus it represents.
We also need a different kind of recruiting: We need to recruit non-pastoring families to choose to be a part of churches because of what they can offer the church, rather than what the church can offer them.
I believe that, along side the recruitment of church planters, we should recruit young people who are not called to full-time ministry to recognize that God has still called them as Christians, and to encourage them to set up their roots in city churches. I think there should be a particular push at places like Pensacola Christian College, places that produce secularly-trained Christians. Exhort them, as they begin their careers and families, to consider moving to a city and becoming a part of a church in an urban area. These churches need good families to serve and to disciple new believers without the cultural Christian background in which many of us have grown up. Be the pillars of the church, give, sing, teach, and be successful engineers and lawyers and business executives.
It would be nice if existing churches in suburbs and families there also shared this calling, but the reality is that it is a hard thing to ask an established family in an established church to join a different church in the same wider region for this purpose. Not impossible, and I would greatly admire a family that made that choice and a pastor who blessed it, but it’s hard to ask that of churches and I suspect that it will be rare. But Bible colleges are still producing hundreds of non-ministry graduates every year, and it would be great to see some of them begin careers and choose to be a part of a church plant in a place like Detroit or Boston instead of a suburb like Livonia or Newton.
I have been and will continue to be critical of the relative dearth of likeminded churches in big city areas. I could, potentially, write more that is critical of it, perhaps scathingly so.
But a quick note about the past:
There are some very bad reasons why certain cities lack churches. There are also less awful reasons. When I note that a metropolitan area has scores of churches scattered throughout its suburbs but almost nothing in the populous city center, there are any number of reasons for why that is so.
Those reasons are in the past. And when I discuss the need for churches in cities, the past is irrelevant, except where past sins and errors are perpetuated or repeated. What matters is the present and the future.
Why does a smaller suburb of Detroit have a half dozen likeminded churches, while Detroit has one? It doesn’t matter to us what happened before. The decisions of past generations will be addressed at the Judgment Seat of Christ. He will deal with it.
The prelude: My dad is diagnosed with a return of his breast cancer, now stage four, in 2000. It has spread throughout his body.
I get a job at Saint Joseph Hospital as a rotating outpatient registration associate, or whatever business-speak name the position had at the time.
Dad nearly dies following complications from one of a number of surgeries; treatment is crucially delayed because my overtaxed mother is also caring for my sister who is experiencing extreme postoperative pain from a procedure at the same time.
I apply for and narrowly fail to secure a team leader position for which I am extremely qualified at Saint Joseph Hospital that would move me permanently away from the main hospital campus.
A growing dissatisfaction both with life and each other prompts the conclusion of an unhealthy on-and-off dating relationship with a college student in Lansing.
… Except for a couple of weeks attending a very contemporary assembly on the U of M campus, I have not attended church on a regular basis in four years …
2002
September My department rotates me away from my favorite location to my least favorite, the busy and relatively dull outpatient lab/radiology suite in the Reichert building.
Friday, September 27 Afternoon A slow day at the lab yields relaxed small talk between the registration, lab, and radiology departments. Elaine Ford, the gregarious team leader of radiology scheduling, mischievously begins asking me about my relationship status before abruptly getting to her actual point, which was a scheduler that worked for her: “So, what do you think of Tracy?”
“Tracy” has a couple of department coworkers that attend her church, and they conspire with Elaine to invite me to a church service that evening, a Friday revival service with Todd Sivnksty preaching (1) at a Baptist church so that we can “meet.” The service is at 7 pm. I agree.
At this point I should mention that my response to the question about Tracy, externally, was something along the lines of “she’s nice” or “she’s cute.” My internal response was significantly more enthusiastic; I was definitely interested. As a bonus, I knew I should probably go to church. Even a Baptist one, easily the denomination I had the most contempt for at the time.
6:15 pm I attempt to arrive at the church very early to avoid the “Hey everyone, let’s meet the visitor!” effect of coming in close to the starting time. I had previously declined offers to get directions to the church, confident that my navigational abilities and trusty Mapquest experience would allow me to find the place with no trouble. I had not considered the fact that the church had built a new building a quarter mile away whose location was not listed in the mapping programs of the time.
6:58 pm I actually make it into the church and experience the “Hey everyone, let’s meet the visitor!” effect. One of the people who meets me is Tracy, who looks terrific and has a big smile. She has to leave quickly to sing in choir; I attempt to blend in with the Baptist congregation by sitting in the back row.
7:30 ish As I listen to the preaching, God impresses on me a strong sense that I am a child of God. After years of drifting and self-consumption and sin, and without strong teaching on eternal security, I had been unsure about my eternal fate, simply because I knew I wasn’t that great of a guy and I didn’t think I deserved it. (2) The Holy Spirit, through the preaching of the Bible, reminded me that I had trusted Christ as savior at a younger age, and that I was a child of God. That was a good feeling.
8:15 pm The service ends. The pastor shakes my hand at the door and asks me, “Are you saved?” I respond, with a renewed joy and confidence, “Yes I am!” I meet again with Tracy and we begin to chat. As we exit the building with other attenders, I meet Tracy’s mother very briefly. Tracy drove from work, so Tracy’s mother says, “We’ll see you at home.” I learn later that this included an unstated but understood modifier that the “seeing” was expected to occur “at the same time we get home ourselves.”
8:20 pm Tracy and I walk to her car, chatting. She opens the door and stands in the crook between the door and the car, while I stand a respectful distance, and we talk.
8:40 pm We are the last ones in the parking lot. We speak on a wide range of topics, largely small talk. We speak of friends, including ones we know that are similar to each other. What we did before we worked at the hospital. What our families are like. One particularly interesting anecdote she shares regards her brother Joe, who a month earlier had been jumped in a K-Mart parking lot by a couple of guys that wanted to steal his new jacket. Joe roughed them up instead, drawing blood and knocking out teeth.
9 or 10 pm While we are conversing, Tracy’s mother is apparently quite worried that she has not returned home. She may or may not be concerned that her daughter was last seen with a scruffy, Arabic-looking stranger apparently known from work. Attempts to call on her cell phone yield no results, since Tracy has no minutes on her phone. A bit later, Tracy’s mom will ask her son, Joe, to take the half-hour trip back to the church to look for his sister.
11:30 pm Tracy and I continue to talk, oblivious to the time. We see a pair of headlights at the end of the dirt driveway, unusual for a location so remote. Tracy sees them and idly speculates: “I wonder if that’s my brother.”
11:30:15 pm The headlights resolve into an old pickup truck, which then powerslides into the parking lot at full opposite lock. Tracy answers her previous inquiry:
“It is my brother…”
“I hope he doesn’t hurt you.”
11:30:30 pm Tracy’s brother, Joe, fully capable of defeating multiple assailants in a fistfight, jumps out of his truck holding a baseball bat.
11:30:40 pm Tracy’s brother, Joe, naturally gifted at handling himself in stressful situations when he perceives potential danger, surveys the situation. After a worrying half-hour drive to the church searching for his sister or her car in every ditch, he saw her car in the lot, but due to the lighting it appeared abandoned. When he stopped his truck nearby, he saw that we were in fact standing and holding a nice conversation. Joe properly judges that no violence is necessary at this time. He ignores me, looks at Tracy, and points. “You go home RIGHT NOW.”
11:30:41 pm I look at Tracy and say, “I’ll see you at work on Monday.”
11:45 pm As I drive home on a lovely autumn evening, with my headlights glinting off of the leaves hanging over the two-lane highways, the Holy Spirit hits me hard. The previous understanding of my position in Christ established, He allows me to revisit the delightful conversation I had just concluded with a wonderful, pretty, godly young woman. A woman who wanted a family, who went to church. Who wanted the kind of thing that, when I was honest with myself, I wanted: like my parents, a marriage of love and stability. Like my parents, a marriage where husband and wife could be happy, could love the Lord, could hear a great truth about God in church and look at each other and smile in mutual joy.
The Holy Spirit does not speak in audible words, but the message I got was unmistakable:
“That’s the kind of girl you want to marry,” He conveyed.
“And you are not husband material for that kind of girl.”
12:00 am I arrive home, under significant conviction but also retaining much excitement and joy. I do something very unusual for me: I went up to my parents room, where they were preparing for bed, and I told them good night.
And then I do something I never did: I tell them I loved them, and tell them I am lucky to have them as my parents. My mom’s jaw drops so sharply in astonishment that it may have dislocated. I have since been told that after I went back downstairs, one of them said to the other something to the effect of, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that he’s just been to a prayer meeting.”
12:15 am The conviction is all over me. I have strayed from God. I have tried to deny Him. I am a sinner; I am wrong.
I kneel down beside my bed and pour my heart out to God. I confess, genuinely. I repent. I get real with Him.
This is, following the day I was born again, and without question, the second most important moment of my life. After years of running, of selfishness, of sin, God got my attention. And I finally stopped running.
Like the father in Luke 15, He had been waiting the whole time.
12:45 am For the first time in years, I pillow my head in peace.
Monday, September 30 I see Tracy at work on Monday, as promised, hoped. Awkward mutual worries about how we might have responded to the unexpected conclusion to Friday evening melt as we each ask, “How are YOU doing?” and receive a cautious smile and an “OK” in response.
I am scheduled to leave at 6 pm, but for some reason a newer coworker needs some help closing the registration area at 7 and I happen to stick around to help her. By remarkable coincidence, I happen to be waiting at the time clock at 7 pm when Tracy gets to it to punch out, to which she exclaims, “What are you doing here?” We walk out to her car again, this time in daylight, and spend “only” a half hour or so talking.
Tuesday, October 1 Prodded by Elaine’s (fictitious, it turns out) report that Tracy was wondering if I would actually “ask her out,” I ask her out on a date that evening. She accepts (3). We attempt to get dinner at Pizza House in Ann Arbor, but are nervous enough that neither has much of an appetite. We walk together on the Diag and sit at the fountains in front of Burton Tower. It is a wonderful evening.
Saturday, October 5 I attend a football game at Texas A&M as previously scheduled, reflecting on of my earlier life priorities. I am thoroughly smitten and spend 15 minutes talking to Tracy from outside the end zone at Kyle Field during the third quarter. I also attend a student prayer meeting while I’m there and spend significant time in prayer on the drive. My priorities are changing.
Saturday, October 12 As is my practice, I attend a Michigan home game against Penn State. It is a huge game against two strong teams, and for the first time in history, Michigan goes into overtime. What is really remarkable is that, despite witnessing one of the most exciting games I had seen in person to date, I don’t care at all about the outcome. Because all I could think about was…
Sunday, October 13 I attend Tracy’s church for the second time, this time with the knowledge that I would meet… her father.
I have never been more terrified in my entire life.
It was a fun day. I would not be surprised if I were to learn, one day, that this was the date to which one could track the beginning of the current trend of my hairline.
October / November Tracy and I make a conscious, mutual decision to make an effort to respect the guidelines her parents have for her. I attend church with them weekly. I am eventually invited to their home for a meal, and then other events. We have plenty of time to spend together between church and work; our work meetups remain treasured memories for both of us. Walks down the endless hallway toward the Orthopedic center, long talks in the parking lot by her car.
My parents become interested in this person I am spending time with and ask about her, and to the surprise of both them and me, I am eager to discuss details of this aspect of my life.
My mom wants to know what she looks like and asks for a picture. I bring an old digital camera to one of our car conversations and take a picture, which I then have printed, smartphones still being science fiction at the time. I still remember, with no small amount of joy, my mom’s excited exclamation of “Oh, she’s lovely!” and how I could sense her genuine happiness for me.
Tracy Good, autumn, 2002
I still love that picture. She’s still got it, too.
More to come, I hope.
(1) Yes, I had to look up the spelling. Took me years to figure out who he was. (2) I didn’t, but then, none of us do. (3) I later learned that Tracy’s parents would not have been thrilled to learn that we did this, but she really did not want to decline my invite. To be honest, I’m not 100% sure they are aware of the timeline here even today and I’m suddenly kind of hoping that they don’t read this. If you’re reading this, mom and dad, sorry!
Dave Mallinak has been writing an interesting series on what he wishes would change within the Independent Baptist stripe. It is written “from within” and I appreciate that spirit, and found things with which I generally agree.
His most recent article addresses what he perceives to be a problem in how Independent Baptists oppose Calvinism. He writes from a perspective of someone who once found Calvinism intriguing, so it is a personal issue for him, and I find it well-argued to the point to which he takes it. I hope that this is taken not as a refutation, but as a modest redirection, in the gracious spirit in which I intend.
At the risk of being repetitive, my purpose in responding is not to argue that Dave is arguing incorrectly, but that in his scrutiny of his personal experience, he does not fully identify the crucial issue at play. To explain, I will quote two pivotal (and good) portions of his post.
Because when I went to examine Calvinism to prove the slanders true, I found that the slanders were just that. And that nearly caught me. I was surprised to discover that most Calvinists give good Bible reasons for their position. I don’t believe they are applying Scripture rightly in some of their conclusions, but I cannot join with those who claim that this is a man-made system.
Third, deal honestly with what Calvinism actually teaches instead of drawing caricatures to refute. If you want to win the day, this is how to do it. And since you hold the Biblical position, this shouldn’t be hard. In my experience, people only need to slander someone else’s position when they don’t have an answer to it.
In my opinion, these quotes represent the heart of Dave’s argument, and it is very good. The issue (I almost wrote “problem,” but that would be unfair; problem is far too strong of a term) is that it does not go far enough.
Dave is focused on opposition to Calvinism due to his own experience of studying it, so he describes the problem with unfair characterizations of Calvinism and the potential problems that can create. Dave is describing the classic logical fallacy known as the “straw man argument.” In short, a “straw man” is a misrepresentation of an opponent’s position that is developed to make it easy to refute.
This is a real concern, and I am glad that Dave is discussing it. However, his experience with Calvinism causes him to address this in a way that is too narrow.
The crucial issue is not that Independent Baptists harm arguments against Calvinism by using straw man arguments; the crucial issue is that Independent Baptist (in conformity with the worldly nature of many other ideological groups) make widespread use of straw man arguments against many different forms of error, leaving Christians vulnerable not just to Calvinism, as Dave describes, but also to any and all other forms of error.
Poor arguments against theological and practice problems within Christianity and against scientific and political issues outside of Christianity not only prepare Christians poorly to encounter those issues in real life, but make it easier for them to be attracted to those errors. Dave’s description of how he, as a younger man, found that the arguments he was provided against Calvinism were so easily punctured by the actual beliefs held by Calvinists is important. When someone hears that “Position X is stupid and only fools hold it,” and then find that the people who hold Position X are not only not fools but have good arguments for it, that person will question the people that told them Position X is stupid in the first place.
I know, because unlike Dave, I was never intrigued by Calvinism. I grew up first charismatic, then contemporary evangelical, and finally essentially a vaguely religious secularist immersed in the intellectually elitist atmosphere surrounding the University of Michigan. Where he has experienced straw man arguments detonated by encountering actual Calvinistic arguments, I have and continue to see (and cringe) at weak straw man arguments presented against concepts like evolution and modern social movements. Not because I agree with those positions, but because I know, and have seen, and have on occasion experienced in my own life such arguments being easily swept aside by adherents of those positions.
It is tempting to do this because destroying a straw man is easy and makes people think highly of you, and because understanding opposing arguments and countering them is challenging intellectual work. The byproduct is damage to our discipleship, as Dave describes, but just as troubling, damage to our witness as well.
A skeptic of Biblical Christianity will not be persuaded by straw man arguments; indeed, he or she will find such arguments confirmation to their presupposition that Biblical Christianity cannot answer their arguments at all. Such arguments actively damage our ability to witness and proclaim truth.
When we misrepresent opponents in our writing, teaching, and preaching, we will get some cheap “Amens.” But in so doing we abandon our responsibility to persuade those with whom we disagree in favor of boosting the egos of those already on our side. And we leave those seeking truth more vulnerable to persuasion by those opponents by giving the impression that we do not have good arguments against those positions at all, since we so readily resort to bad ones.
It is more than a problem of arguing against Calvinism. It is a problem whenever we argue against all forms of error.
Have you been to Chicago lately? Neither have I, but I hear that it’s in bad shape. Usually, I hear about this when there is a bad weekend with a lot of shootings, or occasionally when some sort of issue arises that allows a news source to frame their political opponents for whatever problem they are reporting.
When the problems are brought up, the solutions vary depending upon the political orientation of the one offering the opinion. Something like “ban all guns” or “stop voting for that party,” default political responses that everyone knows won’t actually happen and won’t change anything anyway. Then people throw up their hands and ignore it again.
Expand this general paradigm to other big cities, copy, and paste. It is the same from San Francisco to St. Louis to Detroit to Washington, DC to New York. Detect significant problem. Issue default political answer. Return to ignoring it.
For Biblical Christians this kind of response is common… and wholly inadequate. We believe in the transformative power of the Gospel. We claim, when political actors demand that the entire socio-political system be overhauled in often ridiculous ways to remedy some problem or another, that the Gospel is “the answer.” And many of us, at the least, truly believe that is the case. In fact, we have standing orders to propagate the Gospel and numerous examples of its dramatic effectiveness.
And yet we have completely abandoned the cities. Chicago has roughly five churches that I would consider “like-minded” (1) in the entire city. Five churches for 2.7 million people.
It’s not just Chicago. Detroit, whose reduced population still easily exceeds half a million, has one “like-minded” church that I know of. Minneapolis, where George Floyd’s death sparked a massive social upheaval in 2020, has one or two. Atlanta and Washington DC the same.
Cities hold massive populations of people and contain a disproportionately high quantity of what most people consider the “problems” (2) of our nation. The problems that people complain about, like inequality and poverty; the problems that people ignore, like fatherlessness and addiction. (3)
And we have abandoned them. We weren’t kicked out–the First Amendment guarantees all the freedoms Christians have needed to minister to cities. But things got a bit tough, and we left. Like France in 1940, things didn’t go according to plan, and we left.
Yes, there are many more in the suburbs. They are needed, and many are doing great work. But a church in the suburbs is not a church in the city. It cannot properly minister to the city. The insulation from the problems of the city that allows residents of the suburbs to think of city problems in an “oh, that’s too bad” way also insulates churches from meaningful ministry to those problems. We need churches IN the cities. Places proclaiming the Gospel to the people, among the people. Places where people know there is a refuge of truth and peace. People to gather with that follow Jesus, that believe the Bible, that are walking the same path, that are their neighbors. A refuge of truth and grace in a world alien to both.
Jonah is a memorable book of the Bible for many because it records Jonah spending three days inside a whale, but the whale is only a small component of the larger story. The narrative follows Jonah as he rebels against God’s command to preach a message of judgment to Nineveh, a massive city that was the cultural center of the Assyrian empire. Jonah refuses, runs, becomes whale-bait, repents, and then goes to Nineveh and preaches what God told him to with as little effort as he can get away with.
Despite the reluctance of the messenger, the people of Nineveh respond to the message, and there is a mass repentance. God sees this, and spares them of the judgment that was coming… and Jonah absolutely flips. “Was not this my saying,” he yells as he complains that the God who gave him a second chance to obey and rescued him from drowning by a whale is too merciful. Then he trudges out and sulks, watching from outside to “see what would become of the city.” God raised a gourd to shade him, and he liked the gourd, and then God took the gourd away, and Jonah got miserable again and wished for death. And, at last, God chastised him for caring more about a plant that provided some physical comfort than for 120,000 people that were so naive that they could not tell their right hand from their left.
I fear American Christians are very much visible in Jonah. There are cities teeming with people that God has a message for. Some Christians refuse to go. Others park themselves outside, arms folded, watching and waiting for the judgment they think is deserved.
But, like Jonah, we care more about our own comfort than the people inside.
(1) If you want to debate what that means or whether it’s a good metric, I’m happy for you and hope you find it very rewarding. Please register your objections on idontreallycare@myspace.com. I’ve got a post to finish.
(2) I don’t intend to make it sound like cities are universally awful places. I rather enjoy them, and they contain a wonderful tapestry of people with a huge diversity of ethnic, economic, and cultural backgrounds. I honestly loved working in Los Angeles when I lived in California, and I have family and good friends in Chicago that are proof themselves that Chicago is not just the place that the bad news makes it out to be. But, of course, when we speak of “cities” in contexts like this, we sometimes use them as a shorthand for urban areas that are on the challenging ends of the economic scale. Areas that Christians need to do a better job caring about.
(3) We get far, far too caught up in politics. Not that we shouldn’t care or we shouldn’t vote, but if I ask you, reader, what the biggest problems are in our country, what will your answer be? Most Christians would identify issues that are at least partly political.
Well, I have good and bad news for you: the good news is that the political issues in our nation are in no small part traceable to urban centers. The bad news is that the reason those problems exist is in no small part traceable to Christians abandoning those cities, and the remedy involves us working to persuade people to believe in Jesus and trusting Him to change their lives. Why do you expect non-Christians to vote like Christians?
I am picky about what fights I find are worth my energy. I am a “choose battlefields wisely” kind of guy, the kind of guy who thinks about the Allies charging into the Low Countries in 1940 while the German tanks were crashing through the Ardennes constantly. I think it is just as important to choose the right ground to fight over as it is to produce quality arguments.
So, one of the challenges I notice is that when people argue against something, they often make the error of arguing against the wrong something. An opponent asserts a multi-part proposition, and they reflexively argue against the first thing that comes to mind. In so doing, they choose the wrong battlefield, and often cede important ground without a fight.
What do I mean? I’ll use an over-simplified example.* Take this proposition:
“We should morally and financially support Ukraine in the current war because Russia is bad.”
If that argument is promulgated by an ideological opponent, many people I know would (and some have) reflexively argued against it. I have thoughts about the reasoning for reflexive opposition, but it is a ubiquitous reflex amongst all ideological camps.
The issue is that such reflexive arguments often yield the crucial rhetorical ground they actually want to hold in favor of weak arguments against the wrong part of the proposition. In this case, it is a two part proposition: Part one asserts “we must act,” and part two asserts, “this is why.”
And many people I know reflexively and foolishly attack the latter rather than the former.
In a bizarre twist in modern public life, the “Russia isn’t that bad” argument, a decisively minority view, is now held largely by elements of the Right rather than the left. Only 20 years ago the argument would be framed about war in Iraq and the resistance (and bad arguments) came largely from the Left rather than the Right.
The problem with the reflexive counterargument is twofold: First, one grants the premise that moral and financial support are justifiable under certain circumstances and remove that issue from the argument. This gives the opponent a significant rhetorical victory. Second, one hangs the entire weight of one’s argument, which is an argument against moral and emotional support for Ukraine, on a tenuous premise that Russia isn’t that bad.**
I’ve deliberately reversed the wording of the original proposition from how it would be written in a basic logical equation. The basic logical structure is: “If A, then B.” A, in this case, is the premise that “Russia is bad.” B is the conclusion that “We must offer Ukraine moral and financial support.”
By attacking the premise that Russia is bad, one seeks to argue invalidate the conclusion. But the argument can then be defeated, and moral and financial support for Ukraine rhetorically justified, merely by performing the relatively simple task of establishing that Russia is, in fact, bad.
That’s how you lose a battle by picking a bad battlefield.
It is much wiser (and, usefully, a strategy much more dependent on deeper principles) to choose a better battleground on which to fight. In this case, a wiser rhetorical battleground centers on the question of whether this particular logical statement is valid at all. Rather than address Russia, one addresses whether certain transgressions necessarily merit moral and financial support at all, or to what extent such support is merited.
That’s a worthwhile question! One with a great deal of nuance available, one with a far greater level of uncertainty. One need not address Russia’s merit at all. It is much better ground on which to fight.
This is useful for multiple reasons, not the least of which is, if one foolishly accepts the premise that a “bad” country necessarily merits moral and financial support for an “oppressed” country, one has to backpedal when, invariably, a different country is “bad” and acts offensively toward another.
Like so: “Russia isn’t bad, so we shouldn’t support Ukraine.” “Perhaps, but let me tell you about China…”
*I am deliberately leaving out crucial nuance and details; this is just for the sake of making my point, not arguing my actual position on the issue.
**Just to be clear, Russia is really bad. It is a dictatorship with no free elections. They mouth religious platitudes but ban Biblical Christianity. They initiated an unnecessary war of conquest that they are prosecuting in a violent and oppressive way, killing many thousands of people and willfully permitting horrifying war crimes against thousands of others. I personally know Bible Christians who have fled Ukraine because if Russia conquered their territory, they would be executed or raped. Even if some of the flimsy justifications offered about Ukraine’s problems are true, the invasion is unjust.
News has broken recently that Kanye, the ultra-successful hip-hop artist, has professed faith in Jesus Christ. With this profession has emerged a new album with the non-subtle title “Jesus is King,” some interviews where Kanye has discussed his conversion and opinions, and, naturally, a viral discussion on social media.
I don’t know Kanye personally. I have not followed his career with any sort of attention. What I’ve heard of his testimony sounds wonderful, and I rejoice in his public profession of faith. It is great to see and hear the earnest phrase “Jesus is King” get so much public attention.
I do not know if Kanye’s salvation is “real.” This is not some sort of scornful doubt targeted specifically at Kanye, since I cannot know the spiritual truth of the salvation of any person except myself. No one can. People in my own family have recognized that a profession of faith they made earlier in life was not genuine and subsequently been truly born again. I cannot evaluate the spiritual position or growth of a man I have never met, and it is not my role to disciple him.
However, that does not stop other people from trying to do so.
Critics
The “weak man” fallacy is a relative of the straw man argument (a fuller explanation burdened with an instance of extreme vulgar language here). It goes something like this: One finds a small example of some repugnant viewpoint, usually argued poorly and by someone with little or no following, and blows it up to tar a much larger group of people.
This is a common tactic today, one seen most often when a journalist or social media commentator on the left finds one or two twitter accounts with less than 100 followers complaining about some pop culture event or casting decision. They write an article about it and the tweets of the article go viral, reinforcing a “narrative” that Christians are terrible, or that America is an evil country, and thousands of people latch on to this as a way of demonstrating their own virtue. All because a couple of people nobody pays attention to made a complaint that almost no one else was making.
Well, Christians can do this, too. In the wake of the Kanye profession, there has been a torrent of social media posts attacking critics of Kanye’s conversion. A statement attacking an “other” is issued, usually using vague language about “people who…” and such things, demonstrating the superior righteousness of the person who posts the anti-critic criticism.
What is interesting is the relative scarcity of people actually criticizing or questioning Kanye’s conversion. There are a few, but I have yet to see anyone prominent on social media actually question the veracity of Kanye’s profession. Even the notoriously critical anti-everything watchdog site Pulpit and Pen says, “There are snippets of a man that has experienced grace and that has been born again. He evidences from his testimony that he has repented and is completely dedicated to serving Christ from now on.”
So what we have here is a very diminutive and irrelevant minority that attack Kanye’s profession of faith, and a much larger range of people making a point of attacking the attackers.
In some cases this is simply social media reflex: We have been programmed by Twitter and Facebook to join in the chorus of people that denounce whatever outrage-of-the-week has gone viral. In other cases there is a deliberate effort to attack what one perceives to be one’s enemies while elevating oneself in the process. In each instance the ideal level of feedback is provided: dozens or even hundreds of likes by people eager to agree and/or jump on the outrage bandwagon, with one or two poorly written dissents that serve the purpose of validating the original statement.
This is far from the only instance of this occurring, but it is noticeable and prominent. There are too many Christians eager to find “weak men” and attack them to establish their own righteousness.
The Christian Credibility Complex
There is a larger number of people who seem optimistic that Kanye’s conversion is genuine, but that are “cautious” about it. Some people (though fewer and with less vehemence) have criticized the caution approach, but I assert that caution for most Christians is reasonable.
Here’s why: We are not talking about Kanye’s pastor or any church Kanye is going to. When someone trusts Christ as savior, they should be welcomed as brothers and encouraged. Even if a church has a membership class, that should be seen as part of the discipleship process for a new believer, not an obstacle that denies full fellowship. The pastor Kanye is seeking counsel from is not saying “I’m not sure, Kanye.” He is, as he should, taking the profession on good faith and investing truth.
What we are talking about is the more nebulous field of influence, particularly with regard to celebrities. For decades, American Evangelical Christianity has grasped for any opportunity it has found to gain it credibility in secular culture. A celebrity or athlete professes Christianity? They are plastered on the cover of magazines and short video clips of them saying the word “God” go viral on Facebook. A Christian movie gets released in actual theaters? Everyone talks about it (though financial results suggest that few actually go unless their church goes as a group). A Christian artist releases a music video directed by a “real” music video director? Look at us, we can make rock music too!
I would suggest that the well-meaning portion of this impulse to elevate Christianity in pop culture comes from a desire to “validate” the faith amongst the world. I certainly saw this as I grew up in an Evangelical environment, from countless efforts to make CCM appear to be “just as good” as secular music to Christian magazines with various “Christian” celebrities on the cover to all things in between. The argument appears to be this: “See? We can have fun and still be Christian. Actor so-and-so or athlete so-and-so believes in Jesus, so you can to. It’s ok to be a Christian.”
The unfortunate down side to all this has been that much of what has been elevated by “Christian Pop Culture” has proven to be a failure. Celebrities turn out to be flawed humans, and the music turns out to be unimportant, and the movies turn out to be just not that good.
As a boy growing up in Michigan, I was a huge Barry Sanders fan. Even today, nobody in the history of football has ever played quite like he did. Still, decades later, I see a highlight video of his runs and I can’t look away. My dad and I went to a Lions game every year together to watch him, and seeing him run on Sundays after church together was always a highlight.
Best of all, he professed to be a Christian. My parents subscribed me the Christian teen magazine “Breakaway,” and Barry was on the cover of one of the issues. The article talked about his faith and it talked about his endorsement of abstinence. Not only was Barry a singularly brilliant athlete, but he was humble and he had faith and he “did the right thing,” too. I could not ask for a better hero.
So when, a couple of years later, it was revealed a that Barry had fathered a child out of wedlock with a woman he never married, and when he was quoted as saying that his views on morality had “evolved,” it was no small thing to me. It is difficult for me to describe how devastated I was, what an effect that had on me personally, and how that influence could affect me at a time in my life (later middle teen years) when I had to wrestle with such issues personally for the first time.
I learned a hard, hard lesson. In some ways I’ve never looked at athletes or celebrities the same way again.
I understand the impulse to want unsaved people to see people of influence turn to Christ, but it is misguided. The idea that a celebrity or a piece of art gives credibility to Jesus Christ is simply false. Jesus Christ does not need to be believed on by celebrities, and he does not need secularly credible art made in His name. He is credible because he is Jesus Christ. He is credible because the Word of God is true. Remember the warning of Abraham that Jesus cited in Luke 16:31: And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.
I understand that some people are eager to hear Kanye say things that are biblical (and, frankly, political) that they agree with. “Hey, lost world, Kanye is one of you, and he is saying this stuff! Now, finally, people will believe!” The hope that many will hear his witness and turn to Christ is natural. If this does indeed occur, I will rejoice. But remember, most people who didn’t believe before still won’t believe now. “Neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.”
The desire to be cautious about his influence is necessary. Not in a local church that he may (should) join and serve in, but in the wider world. If God is in this, that will be apparent in time. If not, well, we’ve seen that story before. This is not a matter of judging Kanye’s sincerity, his spiritual position, or his growth. This is a matter of churches and families taking care to guard themselves, that they do not permit an influence that turns out to be negative.
(Content warning: this mostly consists of lists of various blessings of God in our ministry and in my life. Profound it is not.)
God sure is good, isn’t He?
I recently saw a discussion about the differences between First and Second Chronicles and the accounts from First Samuel through Second Kings. They are both accurate and contain some similar details, but there are some details that are omitted from each. The question was, why?
One general answer provided was that the themes of the books are different. The sins of the various Kings, including David, Solomon, and all the Kings of the northern Kingdom are covered in some detail. In 1 and 2 Chronicles, the sins of the Davidic dynasty are discussed less frequently, and mostly in the context of the failure of various kings to trust in God in matters of foreign policy.
This is due to differing focuses. 1 and 2 Kings have a larger historical scope, and demonstrate God’s justice in how he deals with two nations that ultimately rebelled against Him. 1 and 2 Chronicles are more optimistic, reminding God’s chosen people of His goodness, blessing, and faithfulness, and encouraging them to trust in Him. This remains a valuable message today, and was vitally important to Jewish people returning from exile.
Discussing this (and reading through 1 and 2 Chronicles, as I have been for a couple of days) has been a good reminder for me: God is good. There are trials and we often fall short, but He is so good to us. And it is important for us to remember His goodness in our lives. How much he has blessed us. How, when we go through the valley, He has been good to us at all times.
And that’s a good opportunity for me to put in writing how good God has been to us this summer.
After the break: A lot of good stuff God has done this year.
An Open Letter from me to Millennials and Gen Xers and Baby Boomers and Whatever They Will Call My Young Kids In 10 years and various other opaque categories:
I’m apparently not part of any of your groups, because when you discuss things in generational terms I generally disagree with a lot of what you say. Please stop sending me open letters that assume that all people of a certain age/category are the same.
I love all of you and enjoy serving the cause. I’d be happy to discuss differences over coffee. I will even buy the coffee, assuming that I am buying for one person and not the entire group of millions of members of your generation/class/category.
Wednesday, before I preached from our series in Jude, I discussed the recent revelations of abuse and corruption within the Catholic church (both in Pennsylvania, and also the serious revelations regarding Cardinal McCarrick). I had three thoughts:
1. The details are horrifying.
Repeated abuse. Some of the events are staggering in their wickedness. 300 priests, over 1000 victims, just in the greater part of non-Philly Pennsylvania, and those are only the ones that are known about. And the corruption of seminaries that McCarrick worked with – allegedly, seminarians and priests with homosexual tendencies were deliberately seduced so that they could be counted on not to expose sin elsewhere, lest their own be revealed – is reprehensible.
There’s a significant battle amongst different categories of catholics, too. Some conservative catholics believe that liberal bishops and cardinals have been protected by sympathetic media and superiors due to their political views. Many believe that the pope’s recent declaration on the death penalty was deliberately intended to deflect from the scandal.
*Note for the blog: It’s REALLY ugly. I have family in a very passionate, very conservative, proudly catholic parish in Ann Arbor and things are extremely intense. The most faithful, loyal, dedicated catholic I’ve ever met just posted on his priest’s wall demanding that the priest address the scandal on Sunday and discuss what their diocese in Lansing is doing about it. This is the priest that performed his wedding and has been at that parish for decades.
2. This is a good witnessing opportunity if used wisely.
Many catholics are disgusted and disaffected by this. In my opinion it’s not wise to attack them or spend a lot of attacking the catholic institution–the institution is doing that itself. We can, however, use Bible truth (one mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus!) to show them what they are missing and what the corrupt traditions of man have kept from them. Those of us who know and work with catholics, particularly casual “from birth” ones, may find opportunities for conversation if done carefully.
See my note above: It can easily be mishandled, be gracious and use the Scriptures. There’s no place for pride in ourselves or our own ways here.
3. We must be humble and keep our own house in order.
In 2002 when scandal first brewed, many of us smugly wrote it off as an issue with catholics because they were catholics. But in the 16 years since we’ve seen far too much wicked sin in our own camp to think that we’re immune now.
We must teach our children and protect them. I don’t have to get into a lot of detail to warn my kids that they shouldn’t be touched inappropriately, and I tell them that if anyone DOES do something like that, or tells them not to tell me… to tell me. And I want the other kids in my church to do that, too.
We report what we hear. Our church has a bus ministry, and we have had to report abuse allegations in the past. It’s not easy, but it’s not my job to evaluate what is “credible” in that sense. Nor should our reporting be limited to things heard about people outside; if there is something alleged about a person in the church, no matter how trusted, it must be reported.
We have strong standards and we’re not afraid to talk about them. No child alone with an adult that is not their parent, a man never driving a woman (or teen girl or whatever) in a car alone, etc. We protect ourselves and the people we minister to. Perhaps that makes things a bit more difficult sometimes, but it’s worth it.
And if we were to hear something, we deal with it (typically by reporting to legal authorities). We don’t minimize it, cover it up, ignore it. As preachers of the Gospel we are in the business of truth, and truth is never in opposition to our cause. If it appears that our cause will be “damaged” by revelation of truth, our cause is on the wrong foundation. Nobody is bigger than the cause, than truth, than Christ.
Note:
If there’s one lesson I’ve taken from observing scandals in churches of many denominations and in public institutions and businesses, it is that people have a hard time addressing abuse because it is so shocking, especially when alleged to have been committed by someone they know. So the default response is to just try to pass the buck, avoid being the one dealing with it.
In that way, grievous sin can go unconfronted and people can be seriously wounded. We cannot afford to just cross our fingers and hope that things resolve on their own. We are, rightly, militant about confronting sin. Confronting the sin of abuse is simply a proper application of our existing principles.
(Content warning: this mostly consists of lists of various blessings of God in our ministry and in my life. Profound it is not.)
Notes from the North 