Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

Chair, Division of Biblical Studies & Theology,

Bob Jones University

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When You’re Really Scared, Part 1: Background

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Last week I preached on Psalm 11 in my school’s chapel service. Since this passage of Scripture is clear, counterintuitive, and timely, I’d like to repurpose the message here.

What do you do when you’re really, really scared? Everybody gets scared; that’s no evidence of cowardice. The key is how you respond to being scared—and how you respond depends primarily on your worldview, specifically what you believe about God.

The Psalm reads as follows:

1      In the Lord put I my trust:


How say ye to my soul,
Flee as a bird to your mountain?
2      For, lo, the wicked bend their bow,
They make ready their arrow upon the string,
That they may privily shoot at the upright in heart.
3      If the foundations be destroyed,
What can the righteous do?


4      The Lord is in his holy temple,
The Lord’s throne is in heaven:
His eyes behold,
His eyelids try, the children of men.
5      The Lord trieth the righteous:
But the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
6      Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone,|
And an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.
7      For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness;
His countenance doth behold the upright. (KJV)

I’ve inserted vertical space to show the psalm’s three divisions: the opening thesis statement (Ps 11.1a), David’s report of the advice he’s getting (Ps 11.1b-3), and then his response to that advice with wisdom of his own. But we should begin by trying to figure out the historical context—why he’s getting the advice in the first place.

His advisors tell him that he’s in danger, that he has enemies who want to kill him. Anyone who knows the story of David knows that there were many times in his life when that would have been the case. Long before he became king, the nation’s prophet, Samuel, anointed him for kingship (1S 16.13)—while Saul was still king, and while this king was planning to have his son Jonathan succeed him (1S 20.30-31). We know that Saul pursued David for a decade, seeking to eliminate him as a claimant to the throne—during which time, ironically, David expressed no interest in seizing the throne and even passed up multiple opportunities to do so. On at least two occasions (1S 24.1-4; 26.3-12) Saul was within a few feet of David, unawares, and David was in a position to kill him on the spot.

This psalm could well have been written at almost any time during those final years of Saul’s reign.

We also know that David faced a rebellion from one of his sons, Absalom, which led to civil war, with David and his closest advisors being exiled from Jerusalem (2S 15.10-16) and from Israel (2S 17.22-24), to seek refuge across the Jordan River in northern Ammon.

The psalm could well spring from that period as well. While we can’t place it more narrowly than that, we can note that David was someone who knew what he was talking about when he spoke to personal physical danger; his experience made him a much more reliable judge of both the danger he faced, and an appropriate response to it, than his advisors were. Even if he weren’t inspired, he’d be well worth listening to.

Next time we’ll look at the psalm’s first stanza, which reports the counsel of his advisors; in the third post, we’ll consider the second stanza, in which he responds to them.

Photo by Alexandra Gorn on Unsplash

On Protest, Part 5: The Long View

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Part 1: Initial Thoughts | Part 2: Biblical Principles | Part 3: What Now? | Part 4: Tactics

To wrap up this brief series, I’d like to call on a personal experience to highlight the most important point, the Big Idea.

Some years ago my Dad chose to become a tax protestor. I’ve written about that in an earlier post; I’ll give you a minute to go read it before I apply it to this issue.

…

No, seriously, you need to go read the story, or you won’t understand the point here.

…

OK. Now let’s talk about how my Dad’s experience applies here.

Really, now, why did Dad quit filing his taxes?

Because he didn’t want to pay them. He claimed, based on a book he’d read, that being forced to file a return is a violation of the Fifth Amendment, which says you can’t be forced to testify against yourself. He said, “If the government can show me how much I owe them, I’ll be glad to pay it. But I’m under no obligation to give them that information.” He claimed he was standing up for the Constitution, which is the real government.

Now, the book he’d read said very directly that you must continue to file; you just enter “5th Amdmt” in every blank where you would ordinarily write a number. I’ve never asked a lawyer about that approach, mostly because I’m pretty sure what the lawyer would say. But in any case, Dad didn’t follow the book’s advice; he just quit filing.

And the IRS let it slide. I’m sure they knew where he was, even though he’d recently moved across the country, from Boston to New Mexico. They knew because he was on Social Security, and they were mailing him a check—which he was cashing—every couple of weeks.

But they knew he was old, and retired, and had no savings to speak of, so they figured he wasn’t worth their time.

But as typically happens with believers, God’s Spirit doesn’t let things slide. Dad was in a church that preached the Word, and eventually he got under conviction, and he decided to make it right.

And when he did, it actually turned out better for him than if he’d just kept his mouth shut.

Now, I don’t think we can extrapolate from that to say that confessing your sin always increases your income. But when we get crossways with authorities, governmental or otherwise, God is doing things; he’s at work. And a significant part of that work is conforming us to the image of his Son.

Now, he might have things turn out well physically or relationally, to teach us that we were boneheaded to resist the authorities he has placed over us.

But he might not, either.

Either way, we’re going to be better for having done the right thing. My Dad isn’t here on earth anymore, but if he were, he’d tell you that the cleansing of his conscience and the faith he learned to exercise were worth far more than the piddling “refund” check he got from the IRS.

If you’ll trust in God’s providential working, you’ll never regret it.

That’s the Big Idea.

Photo by Teemu Paananen on Unsplash

On Protest, Part 4: Tactics

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Part 1: Initial Thoughts | Part 2: Biblical Principles | Part 3: What Now?

In the previous post I said that if we must disobey a constituted authority, we should do so humbly and accept the penalty.

As a general principle, I think that’s right.

The most famous biblical example of civil disobedience, I suppose, is in Acts 4, when Peter and John tell the Jewish Sanhedrin that they will not obey their order to refrain from preaching about Christ. In that case, their disobedience is public (Ac 4.19-20), and they do accept the civil penalty—which in this case was delayed (Ac 5.17-18) and overridden by an angelic deliverance (Ac 5.19-20). The disciples continued their disobedience (Ac 5.21) and accepted further arrest peacefully (Ac 5.26); they stated their intention to disobey during a second hearing (Ac 5.27-29) and were providentially delivered from execution (Ac 5.33-39)—though they accepted a beating (Ac 5.40). And they continued to disobey (Ac 5.42).

But I do find that the biblical data appear to be broader than that. I find, for example, that Paul responds to unbiblical authorities in several different ways:

  • In Damascus, shortly after his conversion, “the Jews took counsel to kill him” (Ac 9.23-24). These “Jews” are not identified as governmental authorities, but since this very Saul had come to Damascus to carry out the high priest’s authorization to arrest Christians and return them (Ac 9.1-2), presumably for imprisonment (Ac 8.1, 3) and eventual execution, involvement of the Jewish civil leadership is at least strongly implied. Further, Paul later writes that the Roman ethnarch was seeking to arrest him at the time (2Co 11.32). In this case, Paul goes “underground,” sneaking away in the dark of night (Ac 9.25; 2Co 11.33), to live to fight another day. Neither Paul nor the disciples who cooperated in his escape ever show any regret for their decision. So apparently, sometimes you can run and hide.
  • On his first missionary journey, at Lystra, Paul accepts a stoning, which was typically intended to be capital punishment (Ac 14.19). (Of course, we doubt that he had any choice is this case.) Many interpreters believe that Paul actually died and was resurrected—and some suppose that his description of visiting “the third heaven” (2Co 12.2) occurred at this time.
  • On his second missionary journey, at Philippi, we find Paul using his natural-born Roman citizenship slyly; he knows his rights, and he works the system, so to speak. When he heals a demon-possessed girl, the local business interests bring him before the local authorities, who beat them and throw them into prison overnight (Ac 16.22-24). Now, it’s illegal to beat a Roman citizen without trial, and Paul could have stopped this procedure by simply stating his citizenship—as we will see him do later. But here he withholds that information and takes the beating. Then the next day he reveals his citizenship—placing the local leaders under the death penalty if he reports them to Rome (Ac 16.35-37). He demands a public escort out of town (Ac 16.37b)—and on the way, he takes them by Lydia’s house, where the church meets. I can’t avoid thinking that he does that intentionally: “I’d like you to meet my friends. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to my friends, now, wouldn’t it?”
  • After his third missionary journey, back in Jerusalem, the roman chiliarch sentences him to a beating for causing a public disturbance (Ac 22.24). But here, Paul plays his citizen card; he turns to the centurion and says, “Say, isn’t it illegal to beat a Roman citizen without a trial?” (Ac 22.25). And everything screeches to a halt (Ac 22.29).

So what do we make of this?

Paul sneaks out of Damascus to avoid an unjust death. In multiple later cases he uses his legal rights to accomplish his desired ends—once by claiming them up front, and once by claiming them later to force the local authorities to act justly. In every case, he is facing the threat because of his obedience to his heavenly commission.

I think we can all take Paul’s example by acting prudently, wisely, creatively, and in obedience to God’s Word.

Photo by Teemu Paananen on Unsplash

On Protest, Part 3: What Now?

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Part 1: Initial Thoughts | Part 2: Biblical Principles

What do you do when you disagree with an authority?

Providence

Begin by recognizing that God is on his throne and that he has providentially brought you to this place for His purposes. His will is being done. Of course, that doesn’t mean that everything that happens is good; he brings things into your life, and mine, that he wants us to change. He does not call us to be passive. But when hard times come, even including the sinful acts of ourselves and others, he is using those things to make us more like Christ.

That may include changing our thinking, helping us see things from a different perspective, broadening our understanding of what is good and what is evil. It may include bringing to our attention calling he has for us, work that we need to do in order to bring change into his world. It may include simply teaching us patience, or strengthening us against temptation and sin.

But whatever it is, he has his purposes. If changing us, growing us, is his primary purpose for bringing this hardship upon us, it would be a shame for us to miss it, to waste the opportunity to learn and grow.

We need to trust him.

Submission

Our first job, then, is to try, as best we can, to discover that wise and good purpose and pursue it—to subordinate our thinking to his, to act on what we understand his will to be for our own growth. Wise believers have often said that the first question we should ask in hard situations is not “Why is this happening to me?!”—as though life should always be sunshine and roses—but rather “What is God doing to make me more like His Son?”

This calls for honest introspection and careful evaluation. It calls for us to determine for ourselves that God’s will for us is the wisest and best thing, and that we will pursue it no matter the cost. We need to start with the imperfections and failures in ourselves before we set out to change the world into something more comfortable.

Biblical Criteria

After we have begun to clean up our own house, then it’s time to bring careful consideration of biblical teaching regarding the matter we’re upset about. Is the authority with which we disagree actually acting in violation of biblical truth?

This will require objectivity, which of course is difficult when we’re upset or when our own interests are involved. Is a policy unjust? discriminatory? dangerous, or otherwise evidencing poor stewardship? immoral?

There are lots of biblical principles. The key here is to state clearly the principle(s) involved and to demonstrate objectively how the principle(s) are being violated by the policy.

It’s worth noting that our authorities are under authority as well. Employers need to obey national, state, and local laws, even if there’s no biblical principle being violated (other than the requirement to obey “kings and all that are in authority” [1Ti 2.2]). Bring all the legitimately applicable principles to bear on the specific situation.

Humility

We need to recognize our own limitations.

You and I cannot reliably discern motives, nor can we know all the considerations in any decision by an authority. Once again, that authority is in place by divine providence, and I would suggest giving them the benefit of the doubt when we know that there are things we don’t know.

Throwing the Switch

If you are convinced that the authority is acting unbiblically, begin by submitting to the authority’s procedure(s) for challenging the decision. Most employers, for example, have such procedures in place as a matter of policy. If the disagreement is with a governmental body, there are avenues for redress in the courts. We should exhaust the legal options before resorting to illegal activity.

If your conscience forbids you to submit to that authority’s procedures for redress, then disobey humbly and graciously, and submit to the penalty. If you do follow the procedures, and the authority overrules your plea, then you need to make the same decision: must you disobey in order to protect your conscience? If so, then do so, and accept whatever penalty the authority determines. In every action, you must guard your personal integrity and resist the constant temptation to act out of frustration and anger.

I’d like to take one more post to modify slightly what I’ve said here about submitting to the penalty. I think the biblical example is a little more complex than that.

But Thanksgiving is this week, so we’ll talk about being thankful next time, and finish this series next week.

Photo by Teemu Paananen on Unsplash

On Protest, Part 2: Biblical Principles

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Part 1: Initial Thoughts

So we begin with the Scripture’s overarching principle for our existence: it’s doxological; we live for the glory of God (1Co 10.31).

What else applies to questions of protest?

Brokenness

Key to our decision making is worldview: what is the story we find ourselves in the middle of? And from the Scripture we learn that the world is broken. That’s no surprise to us, of course; we can see that by just taking a casual look around. But the Bible places that brokenness in context, giving us a foundation from which to deal wisely and effectively with it.

Sin has damaged God’s creation (Ge 3.1-19; Ro 8.22-23). It has rendered us broken as people (Ro 3.9-19), and it has broken our environment and our circumstances. What we see in the chaos around us, then, makes sense; it is what we should expect.

The world is broken because we broke it—and we are thus broken too. The problem is inherent to us, deep within our spiritual DNA. How likely is it that the solution to this brokenness will come from those who caused the problem in the first place?

But then again, shouldn’t we try? Does the Scripture encourage us to be passive about evil and wait for God to fix it supernaturally, or does it urge us to take action? I think that question answers itself.

Order

It turns out that the lunatics are not in fact running the asylum. There is a God in heaven, whose will is done (Da 2.28, 37, 44). He is taking the chaos that we created and ordering it to achieve his purposes—sensible purposes, good purposes (Ps 37.23). Events are not random, and causes and purposes are not entirely visible and obvious.

A significant part of that purpose and plan is that God is using hardship to strengthen and develop his people, the way a coach pushes his athletes to develop championship caliber in them (2Co 3.18; 4.16-18). God is greater than evil and injustice. He directs us and sustains through those things purposefully, in order to accomplish His goal in us.

Authority

God has established spheres of authority for us. These include the home (Gen 2.22-25), the state (Gen 9.6), and the church (Acts 2.41-47). These authorities, like us, are also broken; parents, political leaders, and pastors are all sinners and prone to grievous error. But they are authorities nonetheless, because God has ordained them for us. It is no accident that we have the parents, state, and church that we do.

These authority structures have spheres, where God has given them authority to operate. As just one example, Jesus was asked if the Jews ought to pay taxes to Caesar (Mt 22.17). We all know that he asked to see a coin, and he pointed out that Caesar’s image was on it—therefore it must belong to Caesar (Mt 22.18-21). What he didn’t say, but clearly implied, was that what had the image of God on it belonged to God; the citizen, as one bearing the image of God (Ge 1.26-27), does not belong to the state, but to God. The state’s authority is limited.

And most especially, all these institutions are under God’s authority, for it is from him that they have any authority in the first place. If a human authority—family, state, or church—asks me to do something that violates God’s will as revealed in the Scripture, then I must disobey (Ac 5.27-29).

This means, of course, that we are all responsible to educate our minds and our consciences from the Scripture so that we can choose biblically in those moments of apparent conflict.

These biblical principles, I think, give us a solid basis for a philosophy of protest and guide us to a proper course of conduct in choosing when and how to obey, to protest, and, if necessary, to disobey.

We’ll get more specific in the next post.

Photo by Teemu Paananen on Unsplash

On Protest, Part 1: Initial Thoughts

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I’ve lived all my life in an environment of protest. I came of age in the 60s, so it started early. Activist writers in those days noted that public protest is a way to get on the political agenda; it’s a way to overcome government inertia and stimulate otherwise uninterested authorities to pay attention. Just as Jesus described a presumably fictional unjust judge (Lk 18.1-8)—I guess governmental inertia was a thing in his day too—politicians will often be unmoved by citizens’ problems unless the citizens find a way to make inertia inconvenient in the lives of the leadership.

So people protest. This is de rigeur in democratic societies, of course, where officials face the prospect of being voted out of office, and where the protesters find it reasonably safe to raise their voices. But it happens in totalitarian societies as well, where the risk is considerably higher. The Soviet Union saw public protests in Czechoslovakia in 1968—that didn’t turn out well for the protesters—and in East Berlin in 1989. (That turned out better.) The Chinese Communists saw a confrontation in Tiananmen Square that same year. The people of Iran rose up against the mullahs just last year. And there are many, many more examples.

Over the course of my life I’ve seen many causes promoted by protest: civil rights (both racial and women’s rights), war and peace, economic policy, criminal justice, right to life (as considered in both abortion and capital punishment), terrorism, tax policy, environment, and others. Most recently there have been protests worldwide against Hamas’s terrorist attack on Israel on October 7 and Israel’s response in Gaza. Many have expressed the opinion that this one seems bigger, more volatile than what has typically preceded; some are talking seriously about the end of the world.

Well, I don’t know when the end of the world is coming, and neither does anybody else. I think it would be unwise to try to predict it even if Jesus hadn’t told us not to. (If he didn’t know the date when he was walking amongst us, how likely are we to get it right?)

But the protests are ubiquitous, and they’re intense. People are expected to take a side.

Sometimes—often—taking a side is precisely the right thing to do. As an acquaintance of mine commented decades ago, the middle of the road is where the yellow stripe is.

I don’t think the protests are going to get quieter, or the issues simpler, as time rolls on. It’s our duty, I’d suggest, to think through a philosophy of protest, something that can guide us through emotional, murky, and rapidly moving times. As a Christian, I need to base my philosophy of protest, like anything else, on the Scripture. I’d like to take a few posts to offer some suggestions and to invite feedback.

I’ll begin with the overarching biblical principle: we live for the glory of God (1Co 10.31). We pattern our thinking after his, as expressed in his Word; we decide our actions, from choosing a vocation to deciding whether to speed up or stop for that deeply pink traffic light, on the same basis. And we establish our priorities, including the decision to join a particular protest movement, based on his. Only he is worth all our love, all our loyalty, and all our devotion. God is the only person we can follow blindly—and He doesn’t ask us to (Is 1.18).

Next time, we’ll tease out other biblical principles that we need to consider in developing our philosophy of protest.

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Why the Reformation, Part 4

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

But corruption brings weakness, and political leaders—kings, dukes, electors—see an opportunity to gain more independence from Rome. Whereas in earlier days Henry IV, the Holy Roman Emperor, had knelt for 3 days in the snow seeking the forgiveness of Pope Gregory VII at Canossa, now a mere elector, Friedrich the Wise, will grant the heretic Luther sanctuary in his Wartburg Castle. Whereas Huss and Savonarola died early and painful deaths, Luther will die a natural death at the ripe old age of 62.

The Renaissance will bring a love of learning that begins to spread beyond the wealthy, and literacy rates will begin to rise. Scholars will begin to write in languages the masses can read. Soon more and more people are realizing that the Church and its own Bible are not saying the same things.

Can the Church be reformed?

There have been reforms before, a notable one under Gregory VII and at points along the way with church councils, most recently at Constance in Germany, after the embarrassment and disaster of the “Babylonian Captivity of the Papacy” in Avignon, France. But reforms have made mostly surface changes, and temporary ones at that. Now the corruption runs too deep, the money is too great, and the power structures are too deeply entrenched.

If change will come, it will shake the world itself and bring a new beginning.

And it will come. It will upend the ecclesiastical world by bringing to the forefront 3 significant ideas:

  • The authority of Scripture rather than the church
  • The central importance of faith rather than mechanical works
  • Direct access to God for the person in the pew

And when Reformation comes, it will come because, in the providence of God, it is spurred on by two divinely orchestrated developments:

  • The renaissance of interest in classical ideas and languages, which will lead, among other things, to the rediscovery of the Greek New Testament; and
  • The printing press, which will explode the spread of these ideas

And out of all this ferment will spring a renewed understanding of the gospel:

  • that we are indeed sinful, and that no church can forgive our sin;
  • that God himself, in the person of Christ, has completely paid the penalty for our sin through his death on the cross, and has removed his own wrath against us;
  • that faith, not works, appropriates Christ’s work to us as individuals and makes us the very sons and daughters of God;
  • and that, wonder of wonders, the righteousness of Christ himself is given to us, freely and abundantly, so that now God sees his believing children through Christ-colored glasses.

The Church tried Law, and it only led to lawlessness. The Reformation reintroduces the masses to Grace, God’s grace, which is truly greater than all our sin.

Interestingly, the discovery of the New World, by Columbus, in 1492 will providentially provide a place for a few Protestants to seek greater freedom of worship—and everyone reading this today has benefited from that.

All of this is one part, a significant part, of the story God is telling. He won’t let his images languish in ignorance and sin. He will rescue them. Further, he will not let you languish either. He will pursue you; he will break down barriers between you and him; he will draw you to himself.

And then he will make you part of the story he’s telling, till all is ready and done.

That’s who he is.

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Why the Reformation, Part 3

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Part 1 | Part 2

As the wealthy rise higher in the circles of power and influence, they can get the pope to appoint their sons—legitimate or illegitimate—to other church offices, if the price is right. King James V of Scotland, grandfather of the more famous King James, got his illegitimate sons appointed abbots; there’s a good living in that, after all. In about 20 years, in 1513, Leo X will become pope, saying, “Let us enjoy the papacy.” One observer said that Leo “would have been a good pope, if only he had been religious.” A Catholic historian described Leo’s court as filled with “extravagant expenditure in card-playing, theatres and all manner of worldly amusements. … The iniquity of Rome exceeded that of the ecclesiastical princes of Germany.”

And with organizational cynicism comes moral cynicism. If you’re powerful enough, you’ll be rich. And if you’re rich enough, you can do anything you want and simply buy forgiveness.

More than 200 years before Leo X, Dante had put popes in the lowest circle of hell. And now, 20 years before Leo X, in 1492, the very month Columbus sets sail for the Indies, Rodrigo Borgia becomes pope under the name Alexander VI. His corruption and immorality seem unending. He appoints his relatives cardinals, including an illegitimate son, and he appoints another son, aged 16, as archbishop of Valencia. He readily acknowledges other sons and daughters; his daughter Lucretia Borgia is the embodiment of immorality and corruption. He has several mistresses, including the sister of a cardinal. He appoints wealthy men as cardinals in return for huge sums of money. He sponsors orgies in the Vatican itself. To him, nothing is sacred. And he is the pope, the vicar of Christ, the servant of the servants of God.

After Alexander, Pope Julius II will turn the papacy into a military power, enriching the church through acquisition of lands and political intrigue.

So the leaders have given up being seriously religious. With their riches they buy forgiveness—they call that indulgences—and many of them just quit trying to be the right kind of person. In his History of the Christian Church, Philip Schaff writes,

“The story ran that a Saxon knight went to Tetzel and offered him 10 thaler for a sin he had in mind to commit. Tetzel replied that he had full power from the pope to grant such an indulgence, but that it was worth 80 thaler. The knight paid the amount, but some time later waylaid Tetzel and took all his indulgence-moneys from him. To Tetzel’s complaints the robber replied that thereafter he must not be so quick in giving indulgence from sins not yet committed.”

Once the indulgence money starts pouring in, the church is not inclined to discourage it. Under Leo X and his successors, the indulgence money helps build St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome.

Perhaps the worst of it is that power brings arrogance, and arrogance brings tyranny. The church will tolerate no rivals; its people must conform. Heretics are dealt with harshly, as an example to others who might get unapproved ideas.

John Huss, the preacher of Prague around 1400, argues, among other things, that a church leader who is in mortal sin has no authority from God. He is promised safe conduct to the Council of Constance and then nearly starved in prison before being called to the cathedral at 6 am, expecting to offer his defense. No defense is allowed; after waiting outside for several hours, he enters the cathedral to hear his condemnation read. No one present objects. Huss says, “I commit myself to the most gracious Lord Jesus” before he is escorted to the public square, chained to a stake, and burned to death.

Beginning just a few years ago in 1478, the infamous Spanish Inquisition will condemn alleged heretics at will, with or without proof, burn them alive, and take their property to enrich the inquisitors and their friends.

Savonarola, the popular preacher of righteousness in Florence, calls out the corruption of the Roman church and Pope Alexander in particular. The pope orders him tortured, hanged, and his body burned and the ashes thrown in the river.

Photo by Wim van ‘t Einde on Unsplash

Why the Reformation, Part 2

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Part 1

The church is as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside; there are huge brownish columns holding up the arched ceiling, which seems to reach all the way to the Milky Way itself. There are stained-glass windows, some with pictures in them, and there are statues of people in places around the building, but you don’t know much about the stories behind them, because you can’t read, and even if you could, your family couldn’t afford to buy a book. Until about 50 years ago, all books were copied by hand, and only churches or monasteries or very, very rich people had even one. Now books are being printed on machines, but they’re still very expensive, and you’ve never even seen one.

So you’d like to know about God, but you can’t read, and at church they speak a language you don’t understand. So you ask your father and mother, but they don’t understand the church language, and they can’t read either, so that’s that.

It occurs to you that if the church is the only way you can get to God, they ought to make it easier to find out how. They have the paintings, but they hardly ever talk about them, and the homilies are all about saying prayers and doing things, most of which you can’t afford to do.

Is that what God is like? Does he only like rich people? Is there no way you can get to him?

You wouldn’t know this, but the problems go a lot deeper than you’ve observed, and the situation is seemingly beyond reformation.

For centuries now, church scholars have been focused on highly impractical speculations—such as, famously, how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. Philosophy has overwhelmed theology, and the sheep have been fumbled in the process. Little of what comes from the scholars is of any practical use. There is certainly nothing resembling the gospel.

The church has tried to make salvation simple for the poor illiterate peasants, so it’s reduced the way to God down to some simple, objective, countable things: you tell them what you’ve done wrong, and then they tell you how to be forgiven: you say memorized prayers, you do a list of mechanical things the priest tells you to do, you give money to various church-related causes. And when you do enough of the things, you’ll be forgiven. The church seems more interested in the quantity of your works than their quality.

But here’s the problem. You keep doing wrong things—in fact, you do the wrong things faster than you can do enough good things to make up for them, and you just get further and further behind.

Even worse, the leadership realizes this, because they see it in their own lives too. Even though the good things are fairly simple to do—anybody can say 100 Hail Marys or Our Fathers—they don’t change your heart, and you keep going back to the dark side, and you keep falling behind, and eventually it’s all just pointless.

For centuries the church has held pretty much all the power, and as someone’s going to say someday, absolute power corrupts absolutely. Rich people see the church’s power as more important than its forgiveness or even its access to God, and they become unremittingly cynical. They buy positions in the church—for a healthy fee, you can become a bishop, or an archbishop, or even a cardinal! In fact, you can buy several offices at once, and be bishop in multiple cities at the same time! Of course, that means that the bishop isn’t going to be in most of his cities most of the time, and that’s a recipe for bad administration and further corruption.

And with their riches they buy all the things they want—lands, castles, servants, clothing, jewels, amusements. Cardinal Wolsey was said to march in procession followed by a train of 500 servants.

Photo by Wim van ‘t Einde on Unsplash