Multi-Media Monday

Melissa Etheridge: Rick Warren doesn't "sound like a gay-hater, much less a preacher." (The Huffington Post)

That's because Rick Warren is not a gay-hater. Nor are most Christians, if you want to know the truth. Most people, however, don't want to know the truth about Christians. It's too easy to simply buy into every stereotype about us that you can find. And, trust me, you can find plenty.


See, mass media will tell you we hate gays, African-Americans, unwed mothers, illegal aliens, etc. And you thought Christians are hypocrites (we are, of course...just no more than anyone else.) The irony would be hilarious if it weren't so pathetically sad. Christians are accused of using stereotypes to push an agenda of hatred and fear. Yet, many times, the opposite is true. Our society has become so blatant in its perpetuation of stereotypes against Evangelicals that we don't even realize it's happening. We are the only socio-cultural group of whom it is socially acceptable to hate. Christians are seen as bigoted, intolerant and quick to judge. Sadly, many high-profile Evangelical leaders have said hurtful things (I'm looking at you, Pat Robertson), and those incidents have painted all of us with a very broad brush. The irony is that it's the same brush used to portray all homosexuals as pedophiles, predators and perverts. Are some homosexuals pedophiles, predators and perverts? You bet they are...just as you can bet there are Christians who are bigoted, intolerant and quick to judge. 


Christianity vs. Universalism (YouTube)

I get so stinkin' tired of universalist philosophy. It's so disingenuous...at best. At worst, it's a coward's way out. It's essentially saying "I don't have the stones to stand behind my own convictions, so I'll just hold hands with everyone, tap my red shoes together three times while singing 'Kumbaya, My Lord' and hope for the best. That's not hope.


"For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience."




Dante's Inferno (YouTube)

Disclaimer: I don't believe in purgatory, nor do I think Mr. Alighieri had the whole "hell thing" figured out. His Divine Comedy was just that: a work of poetic fiction. It's just that this animated movie version of "Inferno" looks really, really cool.


(It's sad, isn't it, that I have to put a disclaimer before posting this. Trust me. If I don't, some uber-legalist Christian will get all pissy with me for promoting something that's not in the King James Version of the Bible. So, just chill...)




Calvinism vs. Arminianism (YouTube)


And, finally, here's one for all of you armchair theologians out there.

Earth Day and Baptists

What do Southern Baptists and Leonardo DiCaprio have in common? They both care about good environmental stewardship. Politics make strange bedfellows indeed.

Arguably the most conservative of mainstream evangelical demoninations, some Southern Baptists have jumped on board with green issues, embracing societal change in an effort to avoid what many seem to think is a planetary crisis.

It's called the Southern Baptist Environment and Climate Initiative, and demoninational pastors, leaders and lay persons are urging members of the denomination to not only sign a statement of support, but also to live both holy and green.

This is earth-shattering (as always, pun is intended). We're not talking Unitarians here. These are not members of the United Church of Christ. Southern Baptists, as a whole, are more George Bush than Ted Kennedy. And the Southern Baptist Convention, by all accounts, is the largest evangelical Christian denomination in America. (You can check out the stats from Barna.)

Two observations here. First, this is further evidence that environmental issues have gone mainstream. The first Earth Day was in 1970. Back then, there were exactly three people who celebrated it: Ed Begley Jr., Al Gore and maybe a hippie living in a California commune named Moonbeam. That's it. Now, even Southern Baptists are going green, for crying out loud. Who's next, James Dobson?

Second, it's another example of 21st century evangelicals understanding the need, within carefully and prayerfully defined limits, to engage modern culture on its terms. I know I sound like a broken record about this sometimes, but engaging culture isn't a bad thing, so long as that engagement doesn't equal relativism. I'm not going to hell because I'm wearing a Pearl Jam T-shirt right now, or because I'd rather go to Bonnaroo than Icthus this summer.

I once heard a Penecostal preacher deliver a sermon to a Freewill Baptist congregation. He was brilliant in the way he bridged what some would consider too vast a doctrinal chasm. He explained that if the two camps, Penecostals and Freewill Baptists, were to rank, in order, their theological positions from the most important to the (perhaps) trivial, they would find complete harmony until, oh, position #32 or so. Why, then, is there any discord? Don't Arminian and Calvinist Christians both love--and serve--the same Jesus?

We can apply that same standard here, but with a twist. Let's say we were to list those positions we, as Christians, hold most dear as opposed to those of non-believers, with the difference being we started with the trivial first. At what point would we find a gulf that cannot be spanned? Issue #100? 1,000? Yes, Christ alone is God. Yes, He alone is the path to salvation. But is using one of those funky lightbulbs really a cause for concern for Christians? Should I pray for my next-door neighbor's receptiveness to the Gospel in the same breath that I pray he'd trade in his Prius for a Hummer? I dare say we have more important issues, as Christians, to focus our energies on--like evangelizing, like social justice, like showing Christ's love in our actions--than chastising someone for a political position that may or may not illustrate that person's love of the creation at the expense of The Creator? And I know that's a very real fear. Scripture talks about it. I get it. Might I submit, however, that the dude down the street who only eats organic foods, rides his bike to work and doesn't leave the water running while he brushes his teeth might be more receptive to hearing about Jesus if we run into each other down at the recycling center? Even if I don't buy the whole global warming thing, doesn't that have some value? Is that not showing Christ's love?

So, even if you think the polar ice caps aren't melting, head on over to the Southern Baptist Environment and Climate Initative website and sign the doggone thing.

If the perpetual question is What Would Jesus Do, I think He'd separate His paper and plastic.

(Read more about the Southern Baptist Environment and Climate Initiative here, here and here.

I welcome all comments. E-mail feedback to CandidChristian@gmail.com. Help me promote this blog by using the icons below, which links this blog to social bookmarking sites and helps online users discover this and other online content.

Bring the rain -- and pain

"Oh, that I might have my request, and that God would fulfill my hope, that it would please God to crush me, that He would let loose His hand and cut me off! This would be my comfort; I would even exult in pain unsparing, for I have not denied the words of the Holy One."

(Job 6:8-10, ESV)

You know, one of the aspects of my Christian life that I'm pretty good at is faith.

Sure, it sounds simplistic. After all, you can't really follow Christ unless you have faith in who He is.

That's not specifically the kind of faith I'm talking about. The point I'm making is that I'm always consciously aware that God, in His benevolence, mercy and grace, is taking care of me. It's the Bobby McFerrin approach to Christianity: Don't worry, be happy.

There's a simple reason behind it, too: I'm a simple guy. I'm not a deep thinker, much as I'd like to be. I recently listened to a lecture entitled "Hermeneutical and Exegetical Integrity." Don't ask me what it was about. Heck, I'm not even sure I spelled that right.

The point I'm making is that I govern my life by common sense. I am Pavlov's dog; that is, I'm conditioned to understand that God has always -- always -- taken care of me. The Guy is batting 1.000 here. He never misses.

Now, I don't want to fall back on the ol' Romans 8:28 standby if for no other reason that it could very well be the most mis-interpreted passage of scripture that most people -- non-Christians too, ironically enough; they clearly aren't reading it properly -- like to recite each time they stub their toe. This is a whole post of its own, and I don't want to get off on a tangent here, but it's important to realize that there are a number of components that come into play when referring to "all things work together for good," namely, that not everything in every circumstance is all hunky dory. Sometimes things go terribly, terribly wrong, and if you're hoping for Romans to bail you out, you might be in for a rude awakening.

The point is, I've always had a strong sense of personal faith in the collective -- ALL things work TOGETHER for good -- plan of omniscient God, and can look past individual painful circumstances to realize there's a Big Picture.

Problem is, lately I've realized that's not enough, mainly because of this song. (You can listen to a portion of it here.) I can't rest on those laurels. It's all too easy to say I have full faith that God will work things out. Indeed, I take a certain amount of Pharisaical pride in being a Big Picture guy.

So the question I have is this: how can one go from a mindset of knowing, understanding and accepting that trouble is a fact of life and that it all works out in the end, to actively pursuing trial and tribulation for the express purpose of God's glory.

Now, don't misunderstand here. God doesn't want us to hurt. He doesn't seek our pain, nor does He, with a flick of His divine finger, play a cosmic game of Eenie-Meanie-Miney-Moe, seeking to pick out those He would hurt just for some sense of morbid fascination. He doesn't play games with our lives. That's not the God I know, although that god is often taught in some theological circles. Mark Driscoll calls it "Cruel Calvinism," or a belief system in which God is sovereign, but not good. It's important to understand that He is both. God doesn't cause bad things to happen, but we live in a world governed by free will. Where there is free will, there is sin. And where there is sin, there is pain. But the beautiful part of pain is this: "... though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the test genuineness of your faith -- more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire -- may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 1:6b, 7 ... make sure you read it in full context here.)

So, do we need to actively pursue and seek trial and tribulation? That's not rhetorical; I don't really know. What I do know is that Peter understood that the ebbs and flows of life are there for a reason, that the pain we feel now, from time to time, is an essential part of the process of sanctification that began with our new birth and won't be completed until our death.

That means, for me, I have to move beyond resting on a faith that relies on common sense. The faith that takes its place should be one that maybe doesn't relish or seek out pain but embraces it as an opportunity to see God's divine plan at work both in good times and bad.

(Want to interact? E-mail comments to CandidChristian@gmail.com, or use the social media buttons below)