“The end is near!” “Repent!”
Have you ever seen a statement of prophetic warning spray-painted on a wall or in a subway station? got to be honest, I don’t take much notice to such warnings. But what if those warnings were for me and for you?
Approximately 30 million people watched and listened to a recent Joe Rogan podcast with New Testament scholar and apologist Wes Huff (Wes Huff on the Joe Rogan Experience: warning: Rogan curses quite a bit). Huff was invited onto Rogan’s podcast after a debate with agnostic Billy Carson went viral (Wes Huff vs. Billy Carson debate).
Over the past few weeks, I’ve spent a fair chunk of time digesting these two appearances (the Rogan show alone is over three hours) and the reactions to them across the internet. I think Huff’s popularity is a cause for great encouragement and also a challenge to us as Christians.
What is my spiritual gift? Maybe you’re asking the wrong question: Jonathan Threlfall helps us refocus the question, “The New Testament’s teaching on spiritual gifts focuses not on self-discovery but on loving service. In fact, the anxiety about discovering “my” spiritual gift will probably fade completely when you focus on what you can do to build up the body of Christ.”
Three things my autistic daughter taught me about evangelism: Vicki Bentley begins, “I watched with amazement as my nine-year-old daughter mingled with the eclectic group of visitors at our church’s community outreach event.
“This year my resolution is to get back to God.” My friend shared his resolution with me and my heart leapt. He asked me how he could start that journey. I encouraged him to read a gospel and to connect with a church. He’s only been to church a few times in his life and I could feel the anxiety creep up on him as he considered the possibility.
When was the last time you were at church? Maybe it’s been years. Just thinking of your last time at church might make you recoil a bit. Perhaps it was the music, the awkward coffee hour, the rambling sermon.
Outside of Christian music, the song that I’ve most often heard played at funerals is a 55-year-old song from the Great American Songbook. In 1969 Frank Sinatra released “I Did it My Way.” At 53 years old, he reflected back on his life and determined that while he had some regrets, the most important thing is that he did it his own way.
Why am I so spiritually dry? Glenna Marshall reflects, “I couldn’t think of any particular trigger. No big reason stood out to me that would explain why everything felt stale and stagnant inside.”
When offenses come: Scott Hubbard encourages us to reframe when we’ve been sinned against, “Offenses are gifts wrapped with dark ribbons. So don’t let the packaging deceive you. Every snub and jab and wound invites you into deeper fellowship and joy with your forgiving Lord.”
“The end is near!” “Repent!”
Have you ever seen a statement of prophetic warning spray-painted on a wall or in a subway station? Did you ever consider that statement might be for you? I’ve got to be honest, I don’t take much notice to such warnings.
Now, transport yourself back to the 7th century BC. You’re a Moabite living just across the Dead Sea from the Kingdom of Judah (the Southern Kingdom of Israel). One of the Jewish prophets speaks prophetic warnings over your country. Do you take any more heed to those warnings than I do to a spray-painted subway warning?
Why would the God of Israel speak a warning to a foreign country to the Israelites? I believe a strange section of Jeremiah shows us both God’s mercy and his patience with unbelievers even today.
The other day as I was nearing the end of Jeremiah’s prophecy, a section stood out to me like a sore thumb. After several dozen chapters devoted to warning Israel, Jeremiah carves out six chapters to warn other nations: Egypt, Philistia, Moab, and Babylon at the targets of Jeremiah’s warnings. In the middle of a book of warning and prophecy to Israel, God sends his warning to the nations.
These are not sugar-coated prophecies. These have all the brashness of the graffiti on the subway wall. God says things like:
I remember the first time I had a conversation with a dyed-in-the-wool Christian pacifist. I was on an immersive backpacking trip with classmates the month before I entered my freshman year at Gordon College. Our guide, a student at Gordon, and one of the freshmen on the trip were both Mennonite and were staunchly pacifist. I had never really heard a strong argument for pacifism and was intrigued by their position.
My dad came of age during the Vietnam War and shared stories with me as a kid of his opposition to the war, an opposition that he came to see as well-intentioned, but naïve. My natural response to war was similar: war is bad, but inevitable, and if our country can intervene for the betterment of those involved, we ought to do so.
My freshman ears were intrigued by the argument, but ultimately unmoved. I would encounter Just War Theory in a philosophy class and that would become my anchor point for processing the use of violence.
When a friend urged me to pick up Preston Sprinkle’s Fight: A Christian Case for Nonviolence, my interest was piqued but I didn’t expect much to come of reading Sprinkle’s book. But, in a way that rarely happens at this stage of my life, I’ve found my perspective on nonviolence has changed pretty significantly over the past months as I’ve read and processed the book.
Over the course of these posts, we are going to examine a biblical perspective on violence.
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