Dan Olinger

Pants on Fire

August 16, 2018 by Dan Olinger 3 Comments

I guess it’s time to post here something I posted on Facebook back in 2016:

I’ve seen a trend recently that bothers me. I see my FB friends posting things that aren’t true–that are demonstrably, objectively, documented as untrue. When that is pointed out, they respond, “I don’t know whether this is true or not; but I just wanted to get it out there.”

Outspoken believers. Christian teachers. Pastors. Missionaries. People with a long record of devoted, apparently selfless service.

Where to start.

God is truth, and Satan is the father of lies. Believers, who claim to follow God, ought to be really serious about the truth. They ought to care whether something is true or not. And they ought to take 30 seconds to find out whether something is true before they post it. If you don’t,

how worthy is a cause that you need falsehood to support?
is the truth not powerful enough to get the job done?
how will you give account to God for your haphazard approach to things that are important to Him?
what kind of an ambassador for God are you being?
why should anyone believe anything you say?
why would you want to give the enemies of God reason to blaspheme?

Maybe it’s time we take a deep breath, refocus, and reprioritize. In a billion years, this stuff is going to look really foolish.

That was two years ago, just days before the last presidential election. In the meantime, the situation has only gotten worse.

No, California is not allowing non-citizens to vote.
No, they’re not pit-mining lithium for electric-car batteries.
No, wind turbines don’t require more energy to manufacture than they’ll ever produce.
No, Joe Biden didn’t say, “No ordinary American cares about his constitutional rights.” He said something else, that meant something else. He may well have been wrong, but he didn’t say this.
No, Maxine Waters did not say, “The next Supreme Court Justice should be an illegal immigrant.”

And on and on it goes.

Let that sink in.

And when the lie is pointed out, you get rejoinders that just make it worse:

Well, it sounds like something she could have said.
Well, snopes.com is just 3 weird people who like Soros. What does that have to do with whether the quotation is true or not? If you don’t like Snopes as a source, how about looking at the 14.9 million—OK, several hundred—other hits on the alleged quotation?
Or sadly, there’s no response at all, and the post stays up. Got no evidence; just liked what it said.

And this from people who get really angry when somebody says there’s no such thing as absolute truth.

God is love, and he loves you, even when you say these things. But love for one thing engenders hate for what would destroy it, and God himself tells us that he hates some things (Prov 6.16-19).

And two of those things that he hates (out of just 7 listed here) are “a lying tongue” and “a false witness.” Two out of seven. You just managed to hit more than a quarter of what God hates. Pretty productive post, considering how little thought went into it.

And throughout our culture, as depraved and perverted as it is, most people are still sensitive enough to the image of God in them that they’re going to despise your dishonesty, and they’re not going to believe anything you say ever again.

Even if it’s John 3.16.

So you need to decide whether zinging an eccentric woman from California is more important than carrying out the Great Commission. And if it isn’t, sounds like you have some repenting to do—taking down some posts, and stating your repentance as publically as you posted the lies.

And then, by God’s grace, reveling in his forgiveness (1Jn 1.9), and living the Truth.

Photo by Tim Gouw on Unsplash

On Beginning Another Academic Year

August 13, 2018 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

Today is the first day back in the office after a summer of activity, rest, and refreshment. Year 24 of teaching. (I was a teaching assistant during my seminary days, and I’ve been teaching fulltime since the fall of 2000.) Every year means refocusing, fine-tuning, tightening both philosophy and technique.

Every faculty member at my institution has expressed a personal philosophy of education, which he includes in his annual portfolio. What follows is mine.

__________

My educational philosophy grows out of two broader, over-arching philosophies: my life mission and the mission of the institution where I serve.

My life mission is to glorify God by edifying His people and helping prepare others to serve Him. It finds its foundation in Paul’s statement to his Corinthian friends: “Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all things to the glory of God” (1Cor 10.31; my translation). It finds its specific application in Paul’s words to another group of friends, this time in Ephesus: “[Christ] gave [gifted people to the church] … in order to equip the saints for the work of service, for the building up of the body of Christ” (Eph 4.12). Like my fellow believers, by God’s good plan and providence, I am where I am, and have the gifts that I have, in order to use those gifts to build up members of the body of Christ. There is no greater mission. And as a fringe benefit, God is a good and gracious Master.

By that same providence, I find myself in the corner of the vineyard that calls itself Bob Jones University. By contracting to teach here, I have agreed to its mission, which is to build Christ-like character in students through the medium of liberal arts higher education. That means that I have a dual focus as I teach: to teach my students the Scripture itself, by which God, over the years ahead, will change them from the inside out, to make them more like Christ (Acts 20.32; 2 Cor 3.18); and to give my students the tools to teach themselves and others the ideas of Scripture (which is my subject area), so that they in turn may present it clearly to those who are seeking and may serve other believers with its truths.

That’s a big job, impossible without divine enablement. Thus I need to begin in reliance on God Himself, nurturing my relationship with Him, praying for direction and empowerment each day, recognizing and embracing each day’s circumstances and challenges as divine appointments. Since I will give account to Him one day for my stewardship (Rom 14.12), I need to prepare myself for each day’s responsibilities, first, and in general, by keeping my academic and spiritual qualifications sharp, and then by evaluating carefully each day’s objectives and planning how best to reach them.

Since the same divine appointment has placed each specific group of students before me, I recognize them as the Bible describes them: made in the image of God (Gen 1.26-27), and therefore worthy of my best effort, regardless of their individual academic abilities or personal character flaws. My goal is to meet each student where he is, and to bring him, by God’s grace, as far as I can down the path of Christ-like character and preparation for skillful service. The Scripture also tells me that my students, like me, are broken images, with sinful natures and evil tendencies (Rom 3.23). That means that I have to encourage them to progress down that path even when they are—often—not inclined in that direction. I may use positive motivation, such as encouragement or praise, or I may need to use what the student may view as a more negative experience, such as exhortation, academic penalty, or even careful criticism. While I never assume that students will naturally do the right thing, I try to approach them positively first, resorting to harder measures only as the softer ones prove insufficient.

My classroom technique is an outgrowth of my own nature. (I believe that had I been born two decades later, I would have been diagnosed with ADHD as a child.) As a student, I needed to be interested in what I was seeing in order to engage it. As I teach I am constantly driven to present material that is both at a reachable level and enjoyable. That means that I first need to couch the material in terms that communicate to the students directly and clearly, and then in a way that is engaging and attractive. I use everyday language, and I define useful jargon as I present it. Since my courses typically need to cover a lot of relatively technical material, I find that I have to use lecture predominantly, but I try to make it engaging by using a lot of humor and demonstrating my own interest in the subject. I’ve learned that a light in the eyes goes a long way.

I find that I cannot reach these goals effectively without at least encouraging my students to interact with me beyond the formal classroom environment. I regularly eat lunch with students in the University Dining Common; I hold scheduled office hours each day; I meet each week with a prayer group in the men’s residence halls; and when I pass students in the hallways or out on the campus, I make a point to catch the eye of each one who will look up, and offer a friendly greeting. (When I’m walking, my cell phone is in my pocket, where it belongs.) When I notice that a student has an uncharacteristic look, I’ll seek an opportunity to take him aside and ask if there’s anything I can help with.

God gifts His people to serve Him, and each one has something he can do well. I find that when I’m in the classroom, I am most at ease; that’s where I fit. (Well, or in Africa with a team of students—but that’s teaching too.) There’s nothing else I would rather do; I don’t talk about “hump day” or yearn for the weekend, and I don’t eagerly count the days until I retire. By God’s grace, I’d like to die with my boots on—teach the last class, deliver the last lecture, turn in my grades, and step through to God’s plan on the other side.

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

I Was Born That Way

August 9, 2018 by Dan Olinger 6 Comments

I was.

And so were you.

I’ve never understood why many of my fellow believers apparently reflexively argue with those who say that they were born with an inclination that my friends view as immoral. Why couldn’t that be the case?

Now, I’ll grant that it’s difficult to imagine particularly sexual orientation being present from birth, since it seems to take some time for any child to develop any sexual orientation whatever. But I’m happy to concede to my (e.g.) gay friends that they have felt inclined toward same-sex attraction from their earliest memories.

Two reasons for that. In reverse order of importance.

Personal experience

No, I haven’t wrestled with same-sex attraction, and I’ve never felt like a woman trapped in a man’s body. But from my earliest days, I’ve known that there was something seriously wrong with me.

My older sisters could tell you that I was a difficult child. Loud, obnoxious, without self-discipline, generally a pain in various parts of the anatomy. I drove them to tears, more than once.

And here’s the thing. I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to be good. I wanted to add to the joy rather than the misery of whatever the event was. I wanted, as my mother would often admonish me, to “be a help, and not a hindrance.” Every year, right after getting a new crop of school supplies, I would tell myself that this year I was going to be good.

But I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Things would just pop out of my mouth, and I would see the hurt on the face of a loved one, or the frustration on the face of a teacher, and I would feel my own frustration with myself rise.

I couldn’t do the good that I could aspire to.

I was born that way.

Scripture

Not surprisingly, the Scripture endorses my experience. It tells me that I shouldn’t be surprised by what I find in my heart.

It tells me that everyone is a sinner (Rom 3.23).
It tells me that all of us start out as sinners, from the very beginning; it’s nature, not nurture (Ps 58.3). My children could lie (with their expressions) before they could speak, and so could I.
It tells me that even Paul the Apostle felt the great internal double-mindedness that I do (Rom 7).

But the Scripture tells me something that my experience doesn’t.

It tells me that there’s a solution.

The solution is not in good intentions. Peter denied Jesus even though he intended not to (Mat 26.33).
It’s not in gritting my teeth and trying harder. Paul demonstrates that (Rom 7).

The solution is not in me at all. I’m bereft.

The solution is in Christ. My righteous Father, the Scripture tells me, has placed my voluminous sin on His righteous Son: All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned–every one–to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all (Isa 53.6).

How does that happen? By faith.

What does that mean?

I believe in Christ; I trust the effectiveness of his action on my behalf, and I trust that he will forgive me as he has promised. Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ (Rom 5.1).

I was born that way. But I’m forgiven. None of that garbage counts against me. “My sin … is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more!”

And, remarkably, that’s not the end of the story.

The Scripture tells me 3 more really encouraging things, even as my struggle with my dark heart continues.

God has not only forgiven my sin debt, but he has deposited in my account all the righteousness of Christ himself (2 Cor 5.21). He sees me as not just sinless, but the producer of all kinds of good. He sees me through Christ-colored glasses.
God has placed in me his Holy Spirit, who enables me to do better; as a believer, I now have the ability, if I will but use it, to do those things that I aspire to (Rom 6). I don’t have to lose anymore. He who lives in me is stronger than my own evil impulses (1 Jn 4.4). I’m still struggling, as is everyone I know; but we have strength that we weren’t born with, and that’s very good news.
The present struggle isn’t going to last forever; my current frustration is temporary. The day is coming when God, as he promises, will make me like his Son (1 Jn 3.2). There really is light—great light—at the end of this very dark tunnel.

Yes, I was born that way. And so were you. And there is not only some amorphous “hope,” but there is an answer. A solution.

By faith.

Photo by Bruno Aguirre on Unsplash

7 Stabilizing Principles in a Chaotic World, Part 8

August 6, 2018 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Number 7: Fellowship. You need those people who disagree with you.

Believe it or not, one year I played football. American football. I was an offensive lineman.

Pop Warner League. Seventh grade. Weight limit was 110 pounds at the top, 75 at the bottom. I was 2 pounds too light, but they let me play anyway.

We called ourselves the Patriots. (We were in a Boston suburb.) We lost every game but one.

That experience didn’t jump-start my career, but it did teach me a lot of things. Most important, it forever changed my thinking about diversity.

As with any team sport, football has different positions, and they have different requirements. The offensive lineman has pretty much one job: be a wall. Protect the quarterback. Give him 2 or 3 seconds to get the ball where it needs to go.

So what does an offensive lineman look like? He’s big. Really big. 350 pounds big. His job is to get in the way and stay there.

Out at the far end of the line is the wide receiver. What’s his job? Get down the field—sometimes waaaay down the field—and catch the ball. And then run with it. He needs to be fast. And agile, to out-maneuver the defensive secondary. And it helps if he has some vertical reach so he can catch a broader range of passes.

So what does he look like? He’s not 350 pounds, that’s for sure. He’s thinner, more like an Olympic sprinter, and he’s usually tall, with an ability to jump. And he has great hands.

Now, which of those body types is better?

Neither one, obviously. They’re both necessary for the success of the team. You put an offensive lineman out at the wide receiver’s position, and he’ll be worn out after 2 or 3 plays. You put the wide receiver in at left guard, and they’ll be carrying him—or the quarterback—off the field in short order.

You need them both, and you want them both. It’s the diversity that makes your team great.

What about church? What about life?

It’s human nature to want to be with people who are like you. They look like you, they think like you, they live like you. Other people are unwise, or icky, or nuts. Anybody who drives faster than you is a maniac; anybody who drives slower is a moron. So we go to church with people like us.

And our church is all wide receivers, or offensive linemen, and we wonder why we don’t win any games.

You need to surround yourself with people who are different from you. Sure, racially different—whatever that means—but different in the more important ways as well. Different in the way they think. Socially different. Culturally different. Politically different.

Different, in significant ways.

Why?

Because you’re not good at everything, and you need them to be good at whatever you’re not. You need their strengths, their insights, and especially their correction. You need them.

For many years I was on the elder board of my church. As we wrestled with hard cases and difficult decisions, I came to appreciate the fact that we had different kinds of people at the table.

We had men with the gift of mercy. They would bring a situation to the table: here’s someone who doesn’t have enough to eat. And they would weep, and they would say, “We need to help this family!”

But we also had men without the gift of mercy. They would listen, and they wouldn’t weep. And they’d say, “Why do they not have enough to eat? Is it because he’s foolish with his money? And if so, should we be giving him more money? How about if we buy him a bag of groceries, and then have one of the financial advisers in the church give him some pro bono help setting up a budget and learning how to stick to it?”

(I’ll let you guess which of those groups I was in.)

Now. Which of those people on the elder board is more important?

You need them both. You need the one who weeps, and you need the one who doesn’t. They both make you a better team.

Now let me place the rubber on the road.

When families are being separated at the border, you need people with the gift of mercy, and you need people without it.

You need people who get righteously angry at the suffering that’s going on. You need people who call down a system that takes 3-year-olds to court. Without their parents.

But you also need people who say, “These people are in this predicament because they broke the law. And if we subsidize their behavior, we’re going to get more of it. And that’s not good for us, and it’s most certainly not good for them. We ought to do what we can to discourage this kind of behavior.”

You don’t need to be all in at either pole—you probably shouldn’t be. But you should listen to them.

And we—we—should work together to bring about a system that works.

We can’t do it without each other.

Photo by Keith Misner on Unsplash

7 Stabilizing Principles in a Chaotic World, Part 7

August 2, 2018 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Number 6: Responsibility. You can and should control your reactions. You should resist being manipulated.

When Adam sinned, God confronted him. And in a really remarkable display of chutzpah (was the first language Yiddish?), Adam blamed his wife. And then, in the same breath, he blamed God himself: “the woman, whom YOU gave to me … “ (Gen 3.12).

From the very beginning, we’ve been blame-shifters. When we can be cajoled into reluctantly admitting that we’ve done something wrong, our natural reaction is to blame the whole thing on somebody else. Our children do it. And so do we.

You don’t understand. It happened this way, under these unique circumstances. This is different.

We’re really good at blame-shifting, because we’ve had a lot of practice.

And Scripture will have none of it.

Adam’s problem wasn’t his wife; it was his own willingness to ignore a direct order from his Creator (Gen 2.16)—and we now stand guilty not of Eve’s sin, but of Adam’s (Rom 5.12-14). Moses’ problem wasn’t the infuriating thanklessness and complaining of the Israelites (Num 11.11-12); it was his prideful rejection of God’s instructions (Dt 32.51). David’s problem wasn’t Bathsheba’s carelessness in bathing where he could see her (2Sam 11.2); it was his lustful eagerness to steal her for himself (2Sam 12.7-10).

Your sin, your failures, are your own fault.

Now, I’m not suggesting that only your sin is significant. Others have sinned against you and me, and their actions leave scars, sometimes life-changing ones. But how you behave is not their fault. You are not an animal; you can make moral decisions and carry them out. You can do the right thing despite what others have done to or around you.

You don’t have to be a victim.

So when people make you angry, or when they make false statements, or when they demonstrate that they’re just idiots, they’ve done what they’ve done; but now you need to decide what you’re going to do. And your responsibility is to act in a way that demonstrates love for God and love for your neighbor (Mk 12.29-31).

So here’s a post: “SHARE IF YOU THINK HILLARY SHOULD GO TO JAIL!”

Some observations:

The poster has no right to tell you what to do. You are not obligated.
The decision as to whether Hillary goes to jail or not is not a matter of democratic vote. You do believe in the Constitution, right? :-)
Further, the decision is not up to you, unless you get chosen to be on the jury. If there is a jury.
- And even if there is a jury, and you’re on it, you may not be tasked with any decision for the penalty phase of the trial.
So sharing is a complete waste of your time.
And it fills a lot of other people’s timelines with nonsense, a complete waste of their time—which can hardly be said to be loving.
And it gives the impression that you care about that more than other stuff, stuff that’s really worth caring about.

You don’t have to share it.

So why do we do it?

Typically, one of two reasons. Rage, or humor.

Either we’re really ticked off about whatever, or we want to stick it to the other side.

I’ve commented before on the essential fleshliness of sticking it to the other side. And, for that matter, about the needlessness of being enraged by the professional agitators.

Some closing thoughts:

Things are rarely as bad as they seem. #freakoutthounot
There’s plenty of noise out there. Why add to it?
Don’t you respect the guy who stands in the middle of the maelstrom, clear-headed, focused on the solution, bringing order and calm and clarity to the chaos?
- Be that guy.

Part 8

Photo by Keith Misner on Unsplash

7 Stabilizing Principles in a Chaotic World, Part 6

July 30, 2018 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Number 5: Peace. God enables his people to have inner peace amidst outward turmoil.

I’ve been fishing this lake since I was 10—since Dad first took me out on his boat. I’ve been working it professionally since I was 16, 6 days a week, 12 hours a day—well, except when the weather was too bad. I’m a professional; I have enough sense to stay off the lake when the weather could kill you. And I’ve seen weather like that, more than once. But I have never—never—seen a storm like this. It’s sudden, and violent, and powerful beyond all my experience to deal with it. We’re essentially baggage, being thrown around the boat by a storm the likes of which we’ve never seen.

We’re toast.

And he’s asleep.

Seriously?! How does he do that?!

Peter would soon find out how he does that. In a few moments, shaken awake by lifelong sailors who think they’re about to die, he speaks a few words, and the storm is dead, the water calm, the threat just a memory, as if a dream (Mk 4.35-41).

He does that because he’s Lord. He’s in charge. There is no threat.

__________

This summer I took my 5^th trip into Tanzania’s Serengeti National Park, one of the 4 premier safari locations in the world. On 4 of those 5 trips we’ve found lions. We drive up in our safari vehicles, to within perhaps 10 meters of the beasts, and we turn off the engines and just sit in silence, most of us taking photos as quickly as we can.

And what do the lions do?

Nothing.

They sit and stare across the plains, completely ignoring us. They may get up and walk around a bit, sometimes even rubbing up against our vehicles, but paying no attention to the people inside.

One year, it was a mating couple. Another, a female lion and 2 cubs. Another, 17 males sitting in the shade of a single acacia tree.

They ignore us. Why?

Because we’re no threat. The lion is the king of the jungle (and the savannah); he has no predators, and he knows it.

He’s at peace.

Now, the peace is deceptive; he’s capable of sudden, rapid, and brutal action. One year we saw a lioness take down a wildebeest literally 15 feet in front of our front bumper—eyes on us the entire time.

And that power is part of the reason for the peace. He has no need to fear.

__________

Jesus is like that. He has no fear, because he has no predators. He’s in charge. He’s king of kings.

And as we’ve noted, he’s directing all that’s happening around us, to his own spectacularly good ends. And he intends for us to play a part in how it all turns out.

That means we have no reason to be afraid. We ought to be at peace as well.

But God knows our frame; he knows that we are but dust (Ps 103.14), because he’s the one who formed us from the dust in the first place (Gen 2.7). And so he knows that we’re going to be afraid, even though we have no reason to be.

So what does he do?

He doesn’t just say, “Stop being afraid”—though he does do that (Lk 12.32).

He gives us his peace. He bequeaths it to us, a gift from the one who always gives the perfect gift for every occasion.

Peace he leaves with us. His peace he gives unto us. Don’t let your heart be troubled, he says, and don’t let it be afraid (Jn 14.27).

Throughout the Scripture God tells his people not to fear their enemies (Dt 1.21; Dt 31.6), or their circumstances (Gen 21.17; 1Ch 28.20). Why not? Because I am with you, he says (Dt 31.6; Isa 43.5). Reach up, take my hand. I won’t let you be destroyed.

But he does tell us to fear—not enemies, not circumstances—but him.

Fear God, and keep his commandments (Ecc 12.13).

And be at peace, no matter how violent the storm.

Part 7 Part 8

Photo by Keith Misner on Unsplash

7 Stabilizing Principles in a Chaotic World, Part 5

July 26, 2018 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Number 4: Significance / Permanence. Some things matter more than others. Care about those.

On July 19^th, 2018, Michael Drejka confronted a woman in a convenience-store parking lot because her car was parked in a handicapped space. The woman’s boyfriend, Markeis McGlockton, came out of the store, saw Drejka in a hostile confrontation with his girlfriend, and pushed him to the ground. Drejka drew a concealed weapon and shot McGlockton in the chest, killing him.

Some observations. McGlockton shouldn’t have parked in a handicapped spot. He also shouldn’t have assaulted Drejka—though I think every man understands why he did, and I suspect that a great many women want a man like that.

But the death penalty? For a parking space? And a shove? Does anybody want to make that argument?

People who carry guns in this country—legally—typically have to have training. And a core principle in that training is that you don’t draw your weapon unless it appears that you’re about to have to kill somebody. And you don’t kill somebody unless that person is an immediate threat to human life or of serious injury. It’s a really big deal, and you don’t trivialize it with shallow heroics.

In the long run, only the important stuff matters. And very little is really the important stuff.

This applies to more than gun use—although of course the lethality of firearms makes decisions about their use supremely important.

It applies to any significant investment of your time and resources, most of which are not renewable. You don’t invest your time, or your strength, or your emotions in trivial things.

Now, it may appear that people have to do that. Everybody watches a little TV, plays a little Dutch Blitz, rolls around on the floor with the kids.

But I would argue that those things are not trivial. Recreation, within reason, is an important part of stewarding your well-being. And playing with your kids is absolutely not trivial; I hope I don’t need to convince you of that.

So when you see something that upsets you, you need to decide whether it’s important enough to call for any of your resources. Is it worth going further down the road of upsettedness, or do you just brush it off and get on with your life?

I’d suggest a couple of principles that can help us decide.

First, does the issue have any long-term significance? Does it really matter?

That rules out pop culture, and sports, and a whole lot of other stuff. Let me go out on a limb and suggest that it rules out a lot of politics, though certainly not all of it. If you’ll look back over past elections and ask yourself how much difference they really made, you’ll find yourself saying “not much” to most of them—and that even includes the presidential ones. Really now; would Thomas E. Dewey or Adlai Stevenson have brought the world to a fiery end? As I’ve noted before, partisans claim that every election is the most important of our lifetime, and that simply can’t be true.

What is of long-term significance? Well, at the top of the list would be anything that’s eternal. That would include the fate of your soul, most obviously; but it would also include the internal relationships of the church, since we’re all going to be roommates forever. That means that I can’t say things to fellow believers in a moment of irritation on social media about an issue that isn’t eternally important. Well, I can; but I shouldn’t. And it would also include our relationships with those outside the church, since Christ has commissioned us to reach and win those people. So I can’t say anything to unbelievers in a moment of irritation on social media about an issue that isn’t eternally important.

Lessee; no believers, no unbelievers. That’s pretty much everybody, isn’t it?

Watch your mouth. Or your keyboard.

Second principle: Is your time, or effort, or angst going to make any difference? Really; will getting upset change anything? Will forwarding that meme about putting Hillary in jail? Really?

Sometimes getting involved makes a difference. Maybe you’ll decide to quit throwing plastic in the ocean (a venomous practice if ever there was one). Maybe you’ll be propelled into action by a post you’ve read. Assuming the action is constructive and moral, then good. Have at it. And if getting stirred up gets you there, well, okay.

But investing your emotions, and your mental energy, and your time, and your communication abilities in something that doesn’t matter, or something that you’re not gonna change?

Nah.

Do something important.

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Photo by Keith Misner on Unsplash

7 Stabilizing Principles in a Chaotic World, Part 4

July 23, 2018 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Number 3: Giftedness. You can’t do everything, but you can do something. Do what you can.

A consequence of providence is that God has directed in your life as well as in the life of the planet. Your conception, birth, and life circumstances are not random or accidental; they are purposeful, and better yet, those purposes come from a good and great person, whose interest in you is entirely benevolent.

There are people in Scripture of whom that is said specifically. Jeremiah comes most easily to mind (Jer 1.4-10); God created him for a specific purpose. Of course, we’re not all formed for the same purpose he was; but if you’ll think about the arc of the biblical storyline, everybody fits into the story, bringing it to its next level of development. Purpose runs through all of it.

Now, we’re not part of biblical history; we’re a couple of millennia later. But the biblical story itself indicates that we’re part of the plan too. First, Jesus clearly thought of those of us who would believe on him later, and he prayed for our success in his plan (John 17.20-26). And second, the extensive biblical material on spiritual gifts (Rom 12, 1 Cor 12-14, Eph 4, 1 Pet 4) indicates that the Spirit has gifted each of us individually according to his purposes for us in his church, the body of Christ (1 Cor 12.4-11).

The fact that there have been some odd teachings about spiritual gifts over the years doesn’t mean that spiritual gifts themselves should be downplayed or viewed with suspicion. God has gifted you—if you are a believer—in specific ways to enable you to serve him.

You’re good at something. Or somethings. By divine design, and for powerful purposes. You may need to get some experience before you become really facile at what you’re good at (2 Tim 1.6), but the gift is there.

What does all this have to do with the chaos of the present?

Everything.

Perhaps you’ve experienced an event where everything was moving so fast that you just froze. Had no idea what to do. There are people whose professions put them in those situations all the time. EMTs arriving at a multi-car accident scene—what do you do first? They’ll tell you that they have to fall back on their training; they have to stay calm and work through the processes that they’ve been taught. Survey the scene to ensure that it’s safe to enter. Then survey the victims to determine which ones are beyond hope. (There are ways to do that, the details of which, for the sake of the squeamish, I won’t go into here.) Then move to those in need of the most rapid intervention—typically, those not breathing.

And so on. Do what you’re trained to do, one thing at a time. Make the difference you can make.

I suspect you’re not an EMT, but you’re very much in a parallel situation. You come across things every day that you find grievous, or fearsome, or enraging. How do you respond?

Well, you can be a sucker, and just get angrier, which is what the social-media poster likely wants you to do.

Or you can do something. You can make a difference.

What can you do? Well, that depends on who you are, and how God has gifted you.

Are you a bulldog, with a character that radiates rugged persistence? Then find a need that’s going to take some time and energy to accomplish—just one need—and work on that.
Are you characterized by mercy, a heart that breaks for the pain you hear about? Then pick one of those situations that’s within your reach—in your community, in your circle of acquaintances, connected to you in some way—and make the connection and help bring grace and peace to the hurting.
Are you more of a thinker than a doer? Then do some thinking about the thing that troubles you, and propose a solution or two, and get it out to the people who can make a difference. (As I’ve said before, if you’re not a thinker, shut up and do the things you’re good at. :-) )

You can sit there and stew, giving in to the fear or the anger or the frustration.

Or you can do some good, based on God’s kind providence in your life.

Which is the better choice?

Well, if everyone around you really is in the image of God, then I think the choice is obvious.

Bloom where you’re providentially planted.

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7 Stabilizing Principles in a Chaotic World, Part 3

July 19, 2018 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 Part 2

Number 2: Image of God. Everyone is infinitely valuable. Treat him that way.

God not only runs the world; he created it. From scratch. (Google ex nihilo sometime. The official meaning is “from scratch.”) All of it. Everything is from his hand, originally.

But not everything is of equal value. He created light, and darkness, and water, and dirt, and plants, and animals. They’re all worth something, because he decided they’re worth creating.

But humans are different. In the creative process, the creator set them apart. He did so in many ways—by creating them last, climactically; by eagerly anticipating what he was about to do; by getting his hands dirty in the act of creating them. And most clearly, by speaking of them as specially gifted—they are, he said, “In our image, after our likeness” (Gen 1.26-27).

You’re in the image of very God. You’re not God, but you’re like him in some ways, and that makes you infinitely valuable.

Now, we’re all fine with that part. But here’s the thing—every other human is like that too. The people you like, sure; but the people you dislike as well. Even the people you hate.

When Noah left the ark after the flood, God established a system of human government, including capital punishment; he gave Noah, and by extension other humans, the right to kill murderers. This is the same God who later told Moses, “You must not kill!” (Ex 20.13). Is God unstable? Self-contradictory? Forgetful?

Of course not. God gave a reason why murderers could be killed while others must not be: the murder victim was in the image of God (Gen. 9.6).

Now, that’s really interesting. Sometimes murder victims get killed for no reason. But sometimes they don’t. Sometimes there’s a very good reason–or at least an incitation. My great-grandfather Olinger was murdered in Missouri, back in the 1800s, in a dispute with his neighbor over water rights. The details of the story haven’t been preserved for my current family members, but I’ve often wondered if he did something to provoke his neighbor, in word or deed. Sometimes that happens.

Sometimes murder victims, well, kinda have it coming.

But God says the murderer still gets executed, because that murder victim, distasteful and unlikable and rage-inducing as he may have been, was in God’s image.

Broken, sinful, perhaps—from all outward appearances—worthless. But also in the image of God.

The implications of that are far-reaching.

The homeless person is of unlimited value. Even if he’s homeless because of his own stupid inattention to personal responsibility.

The illegal immigrant is of unlimited value. Even though he’s broken the law.

The political enemy is of unlimited value. Even though he’s obviously an idiot. And eeeevvvviiiillll.

Now, suppose I pay a visit to the United Kingdom, and I see a bust of the Queen, and I spit on it. (All my British friends, please bear with me for a moment.)

I’m going to get a response. It might be just a cocked eyebrow. Or it might be a verbal rebuke from a passerby. Or, more likely, it just might be a visit from a bobby.

Why? It’s just a piece of rock!

Well, no, it isn’t. It’s a piece of rock that happens to look like the Queen, God save her, and spitting on the image of the Queen is going to get you in a lot of trouble, deservedly, from the Queen’s devoted subjects.

So when you treat God’s image with disrespect, what do you think is going to happen?

If you ignore the plight of the homeless, or the need of the illegal immigrant, or if you treat your political opponent with disrespect, these actions are not without consequence. The God of heaven sees, and he knows, and he cares, and boy, you’re in a heap of trouble.

Now, this all screams for a disclaimer, the one you’re eagerly waiting for. There are ways to address the needs of the homeless without forcing taxpayers to foot the bill, and without being wasteful or creating dependency. And illegal aliens have broken the law, and there are consequences for that. And your political opponent might well have no idea what he’s talking about; that has happened. I’m not saying that socialism or lawlessness or moral relativism are necessary consequences of the image of God in humans.

But I am saying that the image of God matters, and that at the interpersonal level, you need to treat everybody—everybody—with that kind of respect.

If you’ll see all those around you in that light, the way you feel about them will change. And so will the way you respond to them on social media.

Frankly, I doubt that the chaos of the current culture will go away just because your perspective has changed.

But it’s a start.

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7 Stabilizing Principles in a Chaotic World, Part 2

July 16, 2018 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

So, here we go. Principles to deliver us from the fear and anger that characterize too many of us.

Number 1: Providence. There is a God in heaven, who directs in the affairs of people and nations.

The lunatics are in fact not running the asylum. All that stuff that’s got you twisted into knots? Well, the stuff that’s actually true—we’ll get back to that idea later—has come to pass through divine intention. That’s just a fancy way of saying that God’s done it.

That’s true of the stuff we like—God sends sunshine, and rain, and crops, and seasons (Psa 104)—but it’s true of the stuff we don’t like as well. God has his way in the whirlwind and the storm, the prophet tells us (Nahum 1.3).

Whirlwinds are nothing to mess with. In 1998 a tornado wiped out Spencer, SD. A week later I was there. The whole town was just gone. The water tank on top of the hill? Gone. The gas station? Gone, though the concrete pads for the pumps were still there. The corn silos? Gone. The telephone poles? Twisted off 2 feet above the ground. No buildings, except for 1 house that was inexplicably spared. And the whole thing lasted just 6 minutes.

At 8.30 pm there was a town, and homes, and businesses, and normal life. By 8.45 it was all gone.

Who did that? The mayor? The governor? The devil?

Not according to Nahum.

God did it. For reasons of his own, which we may or may not ever understand.

But you know what? There’s still a Spencer, SD. By the grace of God, and through the hard work of a lot of remarkable people, life goes on at Karen’s Beauty Shop and Trinity Lutheran Church and the baseball field.

It’s not likely that anything worse than that has happened to you; if it has, I haven’t seen you post about it on Facebook.

And if it has, then take courage in this: God is working his plan, for you and for everybody else.

And here’s the thing. God isn’t impersonal, or arbitrary, or unfeeling in all of this. He doesn’t throw the switch on the train track just to see what will happen, or just to shake things up for some warped form of amusement.

God cares. He loves—personally, individually, intimately, passionately. And with a wisdom you and I could never fathom, he conducts the symphony of your life for your greatest spiritual benefit and for his greatest glory. He knows what he’s doing, and he acts out of wisely directed love—in a way no one else you have ever known ever could.

This God—the creator of heaven and earth; the keeper of covenant promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; the one watching over Israel, who neither slumbers nor sleeps; the lover of our very souls—this God is directing your steps, and mine, and everyone else’s to accomplish his perfect, delightful plan.

No, the lunatics are not running the asylum. God gave us Richard Nixon, and Jimmy Carter, and Ronald Reagan, and Barack Obama. And most recently he has given us Donald Trump. Love them or hate them, they are all—all—gifts from a wise and loving God, perfectly prepared and perfectly directed for the nation that elected them. That doesn’t mean they’re good, or wise, or effective. But it does mean that he is.

So why live in desperation, or rage, or panic, or frustration? Is there not a God in heaven? Do you not trust him? Does he not give peace?

Maybe, if you have no peace, you have no basis for it. Peace comes not from the political process, or health, or leisure, or physical resources. Peace, peace in your soul, comes from above, not from outside. Peace comes from the Prince of Peace (Isa 9.6), by whom we have peace with God (Rom 5.1), and through whom we find peace even with our enemies (Eph 3).

Think on these things. Breathe them into your reading, and listening, and surfing. And see if maybe your perspective, and thus your reactions, come to reflect peace more than panic.

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Photo by Keith Misner on Unsplash