Here’s my annual Thanksgiving post.
Photo credit: Wikimedia
"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."
Here’s my annual Thanksgiving post.
Photo credit: Wikimedia
This year Veterans’ Day falls on a Monday, which is a regular posting day for me.
Here in the US we’re often reminded that Armed Forces Day (May 18 this year) is when we honor those who are currently serving in the military, while Memorial Day (May 27 this year) is when we honor those who have died while serving—those who have given “the last full measure of devotion,” in President Lincoln’s memorable words at Gettysburg. Veterans’ Day, though, is when we honor any who have served. It always falls on November 11, the date of the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I in 1918. Originally called Armistice Day, it received its new name in 1954, due, I assume, to the fact that we now had veterans of two World Wars to honor.
I tried to serve in the military but was turned down for an Air Force ROTC scholarship because I failed the flight physical due to a bum ear. That was a great disappointment, but I’ve noted that in God’s plan it was for the best.
My Dad served in the Army, and my brother in the Navy; his two boys both graduated from Service Academies and served in the Army and Navy respectively.
I have always appreciated those who were able to serve, in any capacity. I’m posting here today a slight revision of something I posted on Facebook several years ago.
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Atop a bookcase in my office sits a plain triangular wooden case with a glass front. Behind the glass is a triangle of blue covered with white stars. I’ve had visitors to my office remark somberly that they know what it is.
And you probably know too. It’s an American flag, folded to the required triangular shape, field out, and given to the family of a veteran, usually at his graveside.
This one was given by the USA—officially by President Obama at the time—to my family in appreciation for my father’s service in the US Army near the end of World War II. My older sisters kindly decided that I should have it.
I’m first a citizen of a higher country, an eternal one (Php 3.20), but I am grateful for the providence of God that has allowed me to be a citizen of this one. With all its flaws, and they are many because its people are many, the nation has been overwhelmingly good to me and to millions of others.
I’ve been privileged to travel to many other countries, all of which I love and appreciate, and I have rejoiced for people I know and love while standing respectfully during their national anthems and Independence Day celebrations. God has been good to them, too, because that’s who He is.
But I like mine the best. And I’m moved that some of my fellow citizens have freely given themselves— “the last full measure of devotion”—so I could experience all the reasons that enable me to say that. I will never fail to remember and treasure their priceless gift.
And perhaps someday I’ll be able to tell many of them in person. Forever.
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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Flexible Evangelism | Part 3: Drawing the Line 1 | Part 4: Drawing the Line 2 | Part 5: Choosing Wisely
When we’re making these difficult decisions about our relationship to a new culture—or even to the one we know best—it’s wise to keep the Big Idea in mind. That Big Idea, of course, is the biblical metanarrative—the story of God’s working out his plan for the world and all who are in it.
To begin with, God creates mankind in his image and gives him dominion over a creation that is “very good” (Ge 1.31). But due to Adam’s sin, creation is marred, and the image is distorted.
As he had always planned, the Creator sets out to restore his image and the beauty of his creation. He chooses a line of humans to eventuate in a Deliverer, whom he anoints as prophet, priest, and king. And that Deliverer restores the image by living a life that provides positive righteousness to all who believe, and then by dying a death that pays sin’s penalty for all who will come.
And then he begins to gather a people who will praise his name. He invites “the Jew first,” but he inaugurates a new body, the church, to erase national and ethnic boundaries. These diverse peoples will gather weekly to look one another in the face and exercise their gifts for the betterment of them all.
In his epistle most closely associated with this concept, Ephesians, Paul begins by announcing the elements of God’s work of salvation (Ep 1) and then the radical effects of salvation: loving unity between former enemies—first, God and man (Ep 2.1-13) and then Jews and Gentiles (Ep 2.14-22). And then, the aim and purpose of it all: the glory of God (Ep 3.10).
And here we slow down dramatically in our storytelling. Paul says he has a “dispensation”—a commission, a stewardship, a trust—from God, who has entrusted him with the message of the gospel to the Gentiles. He has been faithful to that trust; after multiple missionary journeys across the Roman Empire, he returns to Jerusalem, where he is arrested as a troublemaker at the very mention of the Gentiles (Ac 22.21). And he was in Jerusalem specifically to bring a monetary gift from the Gentile church to the predominantly Jewish church in Jerusalem—to act out the very unity that he has been preaching.
This “dispensation” is to “gather together in one all things in Christ” (Ep 1.10). It was no surprise that Gentiles would eventually worship the God of Israel; God’s covenant with Abraham had noted that in him “all nations of the earth would be blessed” (Ge 12.3), and the prophets had detailed the coming of all nations to the Temple in Jerusalem (Is 2.1-4; 27.12-13).
But that Gentiles would enter the kingdom not by converting to Judaism, but with equal standing—that was new revelation (Ep 3.6).
In all of this, God would be glorified
This new body, the church, is united across all cultural boundaries because it is rooted and grounded in love (Ep 3.14-17) and unified in their apprehension (Ep 3.18)—because they are all united perfectly with the Father (Ep 3.19).
This will most surely come to pass, despite all the things that fragment our fellowship today. God’s plan is that this be revealed in, through, and by the church. May we all be part of that fulfillment.
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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Flexible Evangelism | Part 3: Drawing the Line 1 | Part 4: Drawing the Line 2
When we’re considering how to adapt to a different culture in our gospel outreach, it’s helpful to consider how the early church approached the same question. In an earlier post we noted that the church did indeed wrestle with cultural differences, but for many of those conflicts we don’t have much information about how they resolved them.
An exception is the question of meat offered to idols, discussed in 1Corinthians 8-10 particularly, and perhaps, to a lesser extent, in Romans 14. When asked the simple question, “Is it permitted to eat such meat?” (1Co 8.1), Paul gives a fairly complex answer—and in the process he reminds us of the basis on which we make these decisions. I‘ve written on this passage elsewhere, but it’s worth summarizing some of the salient points here.
First, Paul begins by answering a question that they didn’t ask. He says that the goal is not knowledge, but love (1Co 8.1-2). I don’t think I’m reading too much into his observation when I say that in our approach to different cultures, we should not assume that we have all the answers; rather, we should act in the best interests of those we’re approaching.
Then Paul turns to how to apply that general principle to this specific question. Even if your view is demonstrably correct (1Co 8.4-6), the best interests of the other person are served when you consider his cultural background and adapt to it (1Co 8.7).
Now, I hasten to add that this adaptation cannot violate the principles of truth and of loyalty to God and his Word. If the matter does not violate such things, then the believer is free to adapt, even to give up his own rights—or culturally based sensibilities—for the sake of the other’s eventual spiritual well-being (1Co 9). But he may not adapt to the new culture in ways that constitute false worship (1Co 10.1-22). And, perhaps surprisingly, he ought to prefer acting rudely in a given cultural situation than undercutting the spiritual health of fellow believers (1Co 10.23-30).
The overarching principle, he says, is the glory of God (1Co 10.31).
Now for some application of these principles. Suppose you’re working in a culture with a dominant religious tradition that is false. You may not know whether a given cultural element—say, a common funeral tradition or holiday custom—is meaningfully tied to that false religion. You’re going to have to ask for wisdom from believers in that culture and to respect their judgment; you’re going to have to place more value on their opinions than on your own.
Some years ago, while I was teaching in Mexico, my host took me to lunch at a fancier-than-usual taco restaurant. As we entered, the greeter asked if we would like to sit in the mariachi section or non-mariachi. My host, an American, immediately said, “Non-mariachi, please.” As we sat down, I said, “I’d have preferred to sit in the mariachi section.” He replied, “For the believers here, mariachi has cultural connotations that are unhealthy, and they won’t associate with it.”
I picked up a little wisdom that day. Respect the opinions of those who know about the culture; tourists are notoriously unwise in their interactions, because they’re simply ignorant, even when well-meaning.
In general, it’s unwise to embrace all of a culture’s elements without doing some research. I would agree, as would pretty much everybody else, that Hudson Taylor was justified in wearing Chinese clothing and growing his hair into the queue typical of the culture. But that decision was considered and informed by his understanding of the culture. Praying to one’s ancestors, however, is quite another matter.
After Taylor, Gladys Aylward argued that the cultural practice of foot binding had to stop. And with influence from her and other Christian missionaries, the practice came to an end. As far as I’m aware, the practice did not involve devotion to some false religion, but it certainly violated the Christian principle of loving one’s neighbor.
Sometimes you embrace the culture. But you do not endorse its every practice; the gospel is not enhanced by mere grooviness. And the distinction must be based on careful thought and objective truth.
Next time: The Big Idea.
Photo by Joseph Grazone on Unsplash
Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Flexible Evangelism | Part 3: Drawing the Line 1
To continue our survey of biblical limits on cultural adaptation—
The Lust of the Eyes
This is wanting what you see. We might call it materialism, in the sense of acquisitiveness: the belief that “if I can only have that, I’ll be satisfied.”
Much of Christendom has been overrun by Prosperity Theology, the idea that God wants you to be rich. In the old days it was Kathryn Kuhlman and Oral Roberts; these days it’s Joel Osteen, Benny Hinn, Kenneth Copeland, and a raft of others. The movement has spread like wildfire through Africa, and I wonder why, after all this time, it hasn’t occurred to the attendees at these massive rallies that they’re not getting any richer.
No, the lust of the eyes is not a legitimate vehicle for evangelism, if for no other reason that the “converts” aren’t there for the gospel at all.
The Pride of Life
There’s some discussion on what exactly this phenomenon is. Some interpreters focus on the word pride and assume that it has to do with personal recognition, popularity, or fame. Others focus on the word life and take it to refer to experiences or adrenaline rushes. They point to Satan’s third temptation of Jesus, to jump from the high point of the Temple, as an example.
I’d suggest that in either case a core component is focusing on this life rather than the next—which is also the core component of the other two classes of sin.
__________
In our own culture we see all three of these categories in evidence. As just one obvious example, the LGBTQIA+ movement is an extreme manifestation of lust of the flesh. (For what it’s worth, I expect the “L” and the “T” to part ways at some point, if the Lord tarries, but that won’t be a case of “the good guys” vs “the bad guys.”)
Rampant consumerism, as illustrated by the three or four months of “Christmas shopping” and the expectation of same-day delivery of everything by exhaustive web retailers with massive warehouses scattered across the country would seem to indicate a certain presence of lust of the eyes.
And the self-promotion typical in social media, with its obsession with likes and shares, certainly smacks of the pride of life.
So back to our driving question: what kinds of cultural adaptation are appropriate for the evangelist, and what kinds are not?
Well, audience adaptation of the sort that Paul demonstrated in his preaching is certainly appropriate, in the interest of making the gospel comprehensible by varying cultures. Similarly, engaging in work that demonstrates love for neighbor—such as mission hospitals, famine and other disaster relief, orphanages and schools, drilling wells—are effectively commanded by Jesus in Mark 12.31, and there’s nothing dishonest about doing those things in order to open the door for evangelism.
But catering to lust—the uncontrolled or extreme desire for earthly things—or to self-obsession in order to present the gospel is a very different thing. We are called to enter a foreign culture, to live out grace, and mercy, and peace in ways that represent our King well, and make disciples of all nations. We must do that with honesty and integrity.
Next time, I’d like to look at an example or two of cultural practices over which believers have had to make decisions—do I adopt the practice, or not? And why or why not?
Photo by Joseph Grazone on Unsplash
Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Flexible Evangelism
In what ways can we accommodate a culture in evangelistic efforts, and in what ways can we not? How do we know? Where do we draw the line?
This is not just a matter of personal taste: “I don’t like that” or “That makes me uncomfortable” or “That offends me.” And it’s not just a matter of whether a cultural practice seems strange to us. It’s the very nature of cross-cultural work that practices will seem strange until you know why those practices exist—and perhaps after you know as well.
As always, we Christians take our directions from the Scripture, because it is the Word of God, inerrant and authoritative. Does the Bible have anything to say about how we interact with our culture?
You bet it does. While it begins with a clear affirmation that all humans are created in the image of God (Ge 1.26-27), it also affirms that all humans have sinned (Ro 3.23). As a result, when sinners form cultures, those cultures reflect the brokenness that sin invariably brings.
Some cultures may seem more “broken” to us than others, but I suspect that much of that sense springs from our bias toward our own culture. Some cultures require very little clothing; some are in constant warfare with neighboring tribes; some are tyrannical and abusive. But our culture is broken too, given over to the pursuit of wealth and power, worshiping at the false altar of entertainment, and in constant warfare with neighboring political tribes.
The Bible doesn’t use the word “culture” except in the more paraphrastic versions such as The Message and the Passion Translation. (The King James uses it in the Apocrypha, in 2 Esdras 8.6, but in a different sense.) But there is a word in the Bible that closely parallels the concept. The Bible speaks often of “the world,” and some of those uses mean something pretty close to “culture.” But the biblical sense is uniformly evil, whereas today “culture” includes many things that are not evil at all. But the Scripture does identify some things to avoid in “the world” (1J 2.15-17):
When a culture embodies or embraces these things, we evangelists cannot adopt them as a vehicle for spreading the gospel.
The Lust of the Flesh
When we hear this expression, we tend to think of sexual lust—probably because our own culture is pervasively pornographic. And yes, the incitation of sexual desire outside of marriage is evil, not something we can endorse or accommodate.
But “the flesh” includes more than just sexual matters. “Lust of the flesh” includes anything that caters to sinful physical desires.
A clue, I think, is that if you can’t stop it, then it’s out of control.
Next time, we’ll finish the list and attempt to draw out some governing principles.
Photo by Joseph Grazone on Unsplash
I ended the previous post with the observation that the world and everything in it is broken by sin. Because of that brokenness, Jesus left his disciples a command to go into all the world and preach the gospel (Mt 28.19-20). Even in Paul’s day, and even with the relative cultural unity brought by the Greeks and then the Romans across the Mediterranean Basin, there were cultural issues to address:
These were real concerns, real disagreements, that caused real divisions. Answering these questions was hard.
Throughout this process of early evangelism, the apostles made it clear that there were some things, both doctrinal and practical, on which Christians must agree. They evidenced this primarily in their sermons, all of which tended to focus on the same set of core doctrines, the hub around which the wheel of Christianity turned. (That link is important; take a minute to read the post, and ideally the whole series, since it’s foundational to the current discussion.) They began with the well-founded assumption that the Hebrew Scriptures—what Christians call the Old Testament—are God’s inspired Word and thus to be trusted—and obeyed—implicitly.
But beyond that core, they demonstrated some flexibility on how they approached various groups. For example, Paul addressed a synagogue in Pisidian Antioch, with a discourse on how Jesus fulfilled the Hebrew Scripture, since these educated, observant Jews had a cultural context for that argument (Ac 13.15-41). But at the Areopagus in Athens, facing a pagan audience, Paul quoted none of the Hebrew Scriptures, focusing instead on the writings of various Greek poets and philosophers (Ac 17.18-31)—specifically,
By the end of this sermon, however, Paul demonstrated the importance of the doctrinal core by emphasizing unapologetically the resurrection of Christ, an assertion that brought mocking from this culture (Ac 17.32).
It’s interesting to compare the two sermons more closely:
These two commissions—to preach the undiluted and undistorted gospel, and to preach to every culture on the planet—give rise to disagreements. Believers are priests, illuminated by the Spirit, but they’re imperfect, and so they differ as to how to go about this central task.
This raises—it does not “beg,” but that’s for a different post—a question. Which ways of making the gospel message more easily accessible by a different culture are appropriate, and which are not? How do we tell the difference? Where do we draw the line?
More on that next time.
Photo by Joseph Grazone on Unsplash
Times change.
Living for a while will drill that idea into you.
The college students I teach, who have lived for only a generation, don’t have a clear sense of that. They don’t understand that our culture didn’t always include cell phones, or scanners at the airport, or the kind of deep polarization that characterizes culture and politics today.
I don’t blame them for that, because they haven’t lived long enough to see generational change.
I sprang to life as a baby boomer, in a culture full of postwar optimism and relative prosperity—though my family was cash-poor in those days. My peers and I lived with Cold War fears, including the Cuban Missile Crisis; then the assassination era (JFK, RFK, MLK) during the Civil Rights and Vietnam protest times; then the “general malaise” under Carter, before anyone associated him with Habitat for Humanity; the Reagan Era, including the end of the Cold War and the optimism that characterized the imaginings of a world without Communism; then 9/11 and the rise of radical Islamic terrorism. All of this is outside the scope of my students’ experience.
Since Y2K—oh, I didn’t mention that little cultural bleep, did I?—I’ve had the privilege of doing some international travel, in Europe, Asia, the Caribbean, and especially Africa—and I’ve gained a little more understanding of cultural differences as well.
Time and space. People are different, and times change.
Why is that?
I’d suggest that this diversity is a direct result of the fact that we humans have been created in the image of God. The first thing that the Scripture tells us about God is that he’s creative (Ge 1.1), and the first thing it tells us about us is that we are like him in significant respects (Ge 1.27). We should not be surprised, then, that humans, as a matter of course, come up with different ways of doing things. As they spread around the globe, and as they develop through time, they’re going to think, speak, and live in ways that differ from one another.
We see these differences in thousands of distinctions, big and small. When I was a kid, we learned our friends’ phone numbers, mostly because we dialed them so often. Today nobody knows anybody else’s number, because we never dial them at all, because they’re just stored in our phones—and why do we call punching buttons “dialing,” anyway?
That’s a change over time; how about a change across space? I’ve written before about my favorite example of cultural difference—how in China, you must never eat everything on your plate, and in the USA you must always eat everything on your plate. Why? Because in the US leaving something on your plate is taken to mean that you didn’t like it, while in China, it means that the host has been so generous that you simply can’t eat any more. Same action has different meanings in the two cultures, making one polite and the other impolite—and both views make perfectly good sense.
Often these differences divide us. The ever-present “generation gap” is an indication of cultural misunderstanding across time, and entire wars have been fought over cultural differences across space.
But the Bible indicates that such divisions are often unnecessary. God seems to want us to be different—to be an expression of our creativity, our different ways of thinking and doing. As just one illustration of that, the Spirit of God gifts his people in the church in different ways, by his own choice (1Co 12.4-11), rendering the body of Christ a diverse unity (1Co 12.12-27), so that it will thereby be more flexible in its abilities and more helpful from one member to another. Paul adds to that idea in his letter to the Romans by essentially demanding that we maintain unity despite our differences that might incline to drive us apart (Ro 14.1-9).
But there’s a wrinkle. The world is not as God made it; it’s broken by our sin, and that brokenness extends to our social and cultural practices, bringing them into conflict. That’s not surprising, given that fellowship—peace with one another—is an outcome of our individual peace with God (IJ 1.3).
I’d like to spend a few posts thinking about how those of us who follow Christ should navigate these cultural differences and the murkiness that our brokenness brings to our decision making.
Photo by Joseph Grazone on Unsplash
No, not some guy named Alan; that’s a capital i, not a lowercase L.
A while back I wrote a couple of posts about experimenting with ChatGPT to see whether I had a reasonable shot at spotting student work that was using the tool.
With school starting up this week, I’ve been thinking about what sort of policy to have about student use of AI. My university gives us teachers a lot of freedom as to our course policies; the official institution-wide policy is that student use of AI for assignments is prohibited “without the express permission of the professor”—which means we can give permission for anything we think is appropriate and academically justifiable.
So I did some more playing around with ChatGPT, and also with Claude.ai.
I began with ChatGPT, specifying, “Write a 700-word essay in the style of www.danolinger.com on the topic of sanctification.” I wanted to see whether it could write a blog post that sounded like me. (I know what you’re thinking; hold off on any judgment for a bit.) What it wrote—immediately—was pretty good. Although the title didn’t reflect my style here on the blog—you may have noticed that I like titles that start with “On”—it was generally pretty good as to content and basic style. I did notice differences in mechanics; it spelled out the names of the biblical books and used colons rather than periods to separate chapter numbers from verse numbers in references. But it did use the Oxford comma, though it used more commas than I would have in other constructions.
Sidebar: do you know why I use periods instead of colons in Bible references? Because a colon requires the Shift key, and the period doesn’t. Efficiency.
I thought I’d see how it handled a secular topic, so I asked, “Make the topic the migration of the monarch butterfly.” I’m no expert on the seasonal peregrinations of lepidoptera, particularly danaus plexippus, but what it churned out seemed very good to me.
Now, I had asked it to use the style of my blog’s website, where there are, as of this writing, 691 posts, and the speed with which it had responded to both of these prompts made me wonder whether it had even glanced casually in the direction of the blog. So my next prompt was “Delineate the parallels in style between your essay and those on danolinger.com.”
I was astounded by its reply—seven nicely formatted points identifying seven elements of my blog’s style, ranging from “conversational tone” to “use of relatable examples” to “integration of wonder and mystery.”
Yikes. ChatGPT is the most attentive reader I’ve got.
One more test—one that I think might cause it to stumble. “Add biblical references to the essay.”
Now this is an essay about a non-religious, and more specifically, extrabiblical topic, and I’m asking this non-brain to make biblical applications about something it doesn’t even mention. So what does it do?
It brings in Psalm 19.1, a key passage for the doctrine of natural revelation. Then it parallels God’s guidance of the monarch with his guidance of his people, citing Proverbs 3.5-6, and then the idea of finishing the race, from Hebrews 12.1-2. And it finishes with Ecclesiastes 3.11 and Psalm 104.24.
Bravo, ChatGPT, bravo. I’m impressed.
Later, at the recommendation of a friend, I popped over to Claude.ai and asked for the same thing, for the topic of the early date of the Exodus. Excellent essay.
Then “Write a 500-word short story set during the Exodus.”
Pretty good one. The kid’s even named Levi.
“Write a haiku about it.”
Waves part, path revealed
Israelites follow God’s call
Freedom’s light shines forth
“Write a sonnet about it.”
“Write a poem about it in Greek.”
It even included the line “Οἱ δὲ ἐν φόβῳ ἔφευγον πρὸς τὴν θάλασσαν Ἐρυθράν.” Pronominal use of the article. Nice touch.
Then I asked for a poem in Akkadian.
And it did it.
Transliterated—not in cuneiform—but recognizably Akkadian. (I’m not qualified to evaluate the literary quality or the accuracy of said poem.)
Yikes.
These tools are getting better all the time.
But no, I’ll never use them to write a blog entry.
So what’s my AI student policy?
For Greek and for Bible Doctrines, prohibited. I want the students to do the thinking—all of it.
For my Gospel of John class, I’ve decided to try an experiment.
“Any use of AI must be specifically credited with quotation marks and a footnote. AI output should not predominate in what you turn in.”
I have no idea whether or not this is a good idea. We’ll see how it goes, and I’ll ask the students for feedback at the end of the semester.
No chatbots were harmed in the creation of this blog post.
Photo by Andy Kelly on Unsplash
Once we’ve invested the time and effort it takes to be informed about what the Scripture says, and what the law requires, and what the culture expects, we need to get down to the business of making decisions about how we respond to specific demands from those authorities.
We tend not to do well when we make snap decisions. Many decisions about these matters—especially the most important or significant ones—are complex and require us to think through extended arguments pro or con. That takes time, effort, and discipline.
Add to that the fact that social media is formulated in such a way that it discourages us from complex thought (I’ve written on that here), and we’re temperamentally and intellectually disinclined to spend that time and expend that effort. We have to fight against our own inclinations and those of our peers.
By the way, this ability to think through complex problems to a proper application is called “wisdom” in the Bible, and it’s highly commended and recommended there. Start with Proverbs.
So. What process do we follow to arrive at a wise decision when authorities appear to be in conflict? Let me suggest one that works for me.
Often I find that at this point there’s no actual conflict; I can figure out a way, sometimes requiring a little creativity, to satisfy all the authorities. I find that Christians are often too quick to pull the trigger on civil disobedience or offensiveness to the culture—or disobedience to the Scripture in order not to be offensive to the culture.
Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man (Co 4.6).
And a few further considerations:
So. Navigate the tensions between authorities carefully, thoughtfully, with grace toward all, with joy for Christ’s companionship, and with the confidence that comes from knowing who wins in the end.
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