conscience

On Biblical Mandates and Cultural Expectations, Part 3

August 22, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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.

First, gather the data. Make sure you know what you’re talking about.

What does the Scripture actually require?

What does the law actually require?

What does the culture actually expect? And how broadly pervasive is that expectation?

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.

Next, determine the importance. Do you actually have to make a choice? Proverbs—that book of wisdom—says, “He that passeth by, and meddleth with strife belonging not to him, Is like one that taketh a dog by the ears” (Pr 26.17). Not every controversy is one you need to take sides in; and that’s especially true in a culture where various media outlets raise their ratings, and consequently their ad revenue, by serving up The Outrage of the Day, every day, and sometimes more frequently than that.

Now, if you’ve decided that you need to act on the issue, it’s time to give thought to the way you act. Harsh confrontation, complete with your shaking your fist in someone’s face, need not be your first choice—and frankly, I’m not sure it’s ever a proper choice, especially given Jesus’ words about turning the other cheek (Mt 5.39) and Paul’s words in his letter to the Colossian church:

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:

What is the Authority Priority? I’d say we obey the Scripture first, then the law, then the cultural expectation.

What response best reflects Jesus’ thinking and behavior? Yes, that can be difficult to determine: he overturned tables in the Temple, and later he stood silent before his accusers and took their beatings. And there’s theology to consider behind both of those responses.

How will your response affect others, both regenerate and unregenerate? Paul talks directly about the importance of protecting the conscience and edification of a fellow believer (1Co 8.4-13; 10.23-31), and Peter speaks of the importance of avoiding unnecessary offense in the communication of the gospel, “with meekness and fear” (1P 3.15).

A sobering consideration is this: though you will never have to answer to God for your sins—Jesus’ cross work has taken care of that—you will one day give an account to him for your stewardship, your use of the time and characteristics he has given you. He can’t be fooled, and he’s not likely to be happy with casual or slipshod decision-making on matters of obedience.

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.

Photo by madeleine craine on Unsplash

On Biblical Mandates and Cultural Expectations, Part 2 

August 19, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

We have, then, three distinct authorities:

The Scripture, which is absolute;

The laws of our land, which the Scripture has obligated us to obey, unless they compel us to disobey God; and

Cultural expectations, because Jesus commanded us to love our neighbor and to live out his grace, mercy, and peace as ambassadors—again, short of disobeying the Scripture. We don’t pick our nose in public.

How do we rightly maximize obedience to all three?

We all know this isn’t easy.

One thing we do know is that some random blogger can’t make these decisions for us; the answers will come from our mind and conscience as informed by our personal interaction with the Scripture and with the Spirit—who, we should remember, never leads contrary to the Scripture, which he himself inspired. This means that we, as individuals, need to be serious about our study of the Word, hiding it in our hearts, and thinking regularly about how, specifically, it regulates our decision making. Your pastor, though his ministry of the Word can be part of your information collection, can’t give you a personal understanding of the Word; you have to do that for yourself.

Similarly, we need to develop our own determination that we are going to heed the Scripture regardless of the personal consequences. We can’t go through the hard decisions of life on someone else’s commitment to Christ; we have to be serious about our commitment to him personally.

Third, we need to know what we’re talking about. For example, on making a decision about a legal requirement, we face a problem: legal issues are often political issues, and politics is by nature filled with highly inaccurate information. Both sides in a political controversy want to maximize their following, and in most cases they’re perfectly willing to lie to do it. So they exaggerate the threat and sometimes they just make stuff up. Further, these days most journalists are advocates, not reporters, and they omit facts that don’t fit their goals and distort facts that do. That means that we need to go to original sources—yeah, we need to read the actual law to find out what it requires.

This principle of being accurately informed extends over into the cultural issues as well. We tend to overestimate the breadth of cultural expectations, to assume too quickly that “everybody’s doing it.” As just one example, evangelicalism in the US has moved from a general opposition to the use of beverage alcohol during Prohibition to more openness since. That move was expedited by increased ease of travel and consequent increased exposure to cultures where practicing Christians had not been influenced by the American Prohibition movement and had a long history of disciplined use of alcohol. So “everybody’s doing it.”

In my experience, though, that’s simply not true. Though I grew up in a culture where alcohol was common (my extended family was more the beer-drinking type than wine connoisseurs), I decided not to drink for a few reasons:

I had a family history of alcoholism;

My parents decided to quit drinking when they came to Christ in their 40s; and

During a brief period of rebellion during my gap year after high school I found that I didn’t handle it well.

As an employee of my university, I’ve signed a statement that I won’t drink, but I wouldn’t drink even if I didn’t work there.

All this to make this point: over the years I’ve often been invited to share a drink, and I’ve always said, “No, thanks, I don’t drink.” And never—not once—has anyone given me any grief about that or taken any offense. In my experience, there is no real social expectation regarding alcohol. The culture does not in fact require that of its good citizens, and everybody’s most certainly not doing it.

So it helps us to be informed about what’s actually going on with the legal requirements and the cultural expectations. And of course, what the Scripture actually says.

Next time, some suggestions about how we make those decisions now that we have the facts at hand.

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On Biblical Mandates and Cultural Expectations, Part 1

August 15, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

We Christians find ourselves in an odd situation.

To paraphrase Jesus, we are in the world, but not of the world (Jn 17.15-16). He has sent us into the world (Jn 17.18) to be his ambassadors (2Co 5.20)—that is, to represent him well by living out his grace, mercy, and peace, and by spreading the message of the gospel to the ends of the earth (Mt 28.18-20).

Now, that means that we are to be different from the world and to make that difference plain—as Israel did under the Mosaic Covenant by intentionally not behaving like the cultures around them. They didn’t round the corners of their temples (Le 19.27), or wear linen mixed with wool (Le 19.19), or plow with an ox and an ass together (Dt 22.10). But at the same time we are to be “in” the world, representing God’s love, grace, mercy, and peace as well as his holiness, purity, and justice.

And God further emphasizes the idea of being “in” the world by saying that he has placed the earthly authorities in their positions and that we are to obey them, seeing them as agents of God himself (Ro 13.1-7).

So we serve God, obeying his commandments, and we obey earthly authorities, and we represent a good and kind God in the culture where he has sovereignly placed us.

We might expect, then, that occasionally these authorities will bump into one another. There are biblical mandates, and we must obey them. There also legal and cultural mandates and expectations, and we should do our best to accommodate them, to the extent that they don’t bring us into conflict with what God wants of us.

I’ve written before, and at more length, on Paul’s passages on this subject: 1 Corinthians 8-10 and Romans 14. But here I’d like to comment a little further on making decisions, sometimes hard ones, on practical matters.

There are clear biblical commandments. The big two, according to Jesus, are to love God and love your neighbor (Mt 22.37-39). We always ought to obey those.

But we know that there are some biblical commandments that we must not obey. The entire Mosaic ceremonial code—priesthood and sacrifices—has been fulfilled in and by Christ, who offered one sacrifice forever (He 10.12), and we would be wrong to follow the Levitical sacrificial code. In this case, as time has passed, the biblical expectation has been completely reversed.

Further, we know that some of the Bible’s commandments were culturally based. As just one example, Paul commands that we greet one another with a holy kiss (Ro 16.16), and I’m not seeing a whole lot of that among the brethren, at least in the US. We understand that we ought to greet one another affectionately and sincerely, and here in the US that usually involves a handshake or a hug, not a kiss. Cultural adaptation.

Some interpreters bring this principle into passages in a more controversial way. Paul’s proscription of women speaking in the assembly (1Co 14.34), for example, they suggest was unique to the Corinthian situation; the women there were causing a problem by their speaking in the church, so Paul told them to give it a rest; but he did not intend this to be a prohibition for all his churches, let alone for churches today.

Now, I’m open to that possibility in the abstract, but proper hermeneutics calls for careful consideration of the context. And I note that

Paul does not hint at any geographical limitation in the passage, nor does he describe any kind of misbehavior that elicited the prohibition;
Paul makes similar prohibitions in letters to other churches, such as the one in Ephesus (1Ti 2.12), which is on a completely different continent from Corinth;
And the reason he gives for the latter prohibition is not the behavior of the women in the Ephesian church, but the behavior of just one, and at the very beginning of time—the mother of us all (1Ti 2.13-14).

So I’d call that a legitimate principle—culture can indeed affect the application of a passage—but not textually indicated in this case.

We’ll continue this next time.

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Up the Down Staircase, Part 2

October 19, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

On Conscience, Legalism, Loving Your Brother, and the Fear of Man

Part 1

Is it OK to go up the down staircase?

If it violates the spirit of the law, no it’s not. If it doesn’t, it’s fine.

But as I noted last time, when it doesn’t violate the spirit of the law, there are other things to consider.

Conscience

In 1 Corinthians 8, Paul deals with a Christian who thinks it’s wrong to eat meat that’s been sacrificed to idols. In the previous paragraph Paul has already said that there’s nothing wrong with eating the meat in itself. But this person is a new Christian, fresh out of idol worship, and to him that sacrificial meat carries baggage with it. (Now there’s an odd metaphor.) His conscience bothers him if he eats the meat.

Paul says, he must not eat the meat, and more mature Christians must not encourage him to eat it.

Why? Isn’t his conscience being unnecessarily narrow? Yes, it is. But his conscience doesn’t know that, and nobody ought to tell his own conscience to shut up. You want a conscience that speaks up, and one that knows it will be heard. If you tell your conscience to shut up enough times, eventually it will. And then you’re in serial killer territory.

So you’re at the bottom of the down staircase. It’s empty. The halls are quiet. Can you go up it?

Sure—provided your conscience doesn’t bother you about it.

Now, if you’re in an empty building, and you’re staring at the “Down” sign, and you look both ways down the hall, to make sure nobody’s watching, and you run up the stairs, pulse pounding, exhilarated that you’re getting away with something,

First, you’re one oddly troubled kid.

And second, yes, you’re sinning. God calls that rebellion, and he says it’s worse than witchcraft.

Oh, and one other thing …

Edification

Paul also says that you should refrain from doing things that might cause spiritual harm to your brother.

So here I am at the bottom of the down staircase. There are students around. I’m a teacher. A Bible teacher. (Actually, in a well-designed Christian liberal arts university, all the teachers are Bible teachers.)

Do I go up the down staircase, or do I walk a few extra steps to use the up staircase?

I don’t want to encourage my students to violate their own consciences, and I don’t want them to get the impression that regulations don’t matter.

So I walk the extra steps. Even if the down staircase is empty.

The principle of edification.

Now it’s at this point that somebody alleges, “Fear of man!”

Au contraire, mon frere.

I am not altering my behavior because I’m afraid of what they’ll think of me. God is my judge (that’s what my name means, actually), and I stand before only him, with Christ, my Advocate, at my side. Fearless, because Christ has given me promises, and I believe him.

I am altering my behavior because I love my students and want God’s best for them, including spiritual health. No fear in that. Perfect love casts out fear.

A closing thought.

Yeah, this is a tempest in a teapot. It’s a lot of obsessive thinking over a relatively trivial decision.

But that’s what I like about it. It gives us an opportunity to think through the biblical principles that should drive all our decisions, including the really big ones, and to do it in an environment that’s less complex, emotionally fraught, and consequential.

I hope it helps to clarify your thoughts on the matter.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Up the Down Staircase, Part 1

October 16, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

On Conscience, Legalism, Loving Your Brother, and the Fear of Man

Ah, that “doubtful things” issue again.

Yep.

There’s been some really good material written on the Christian conscience lately. One of my favorites is this book, written by a long-time missionary and a former student of mine (that’s two people, not one). I think they handle the issue well.

I don’t plan to add anything to, or correct, anything they’ve said. But it occurred to me that an illustration I use for this concept in my teaching might be useful for a general audience. Which you are.

So here goes.

The Bible says that we should never violate our conscience—even when it’s misinformed, and unnecessarily restrictive (1Co 8.7-13). I’ve written on that before, so I won’t go over those concepts again. It also gives Christians a fair amount of liberty to disagree on what kinds of activities they can engage in (1Co 8-10; Ro 14). I think it’s delightful to interact with other believers—the thoughtful ones, anyway—to learn how they think about such matters and how they make their decisions. It’s too bad that many Christians see these disagreements as occasions for combat or for disdain. I think we can all learn a lot by calmly interacting over our disagreements.

When those arguments occur, the word legalism often gets thrown around. Like a hand grenade. The term suffers from a general lack of definition in the current culture; most people use it as a pejorative for behavior that they think is unnecessarily narrow. (It used to mean the belief that your good works will get you to heaven, but I haven’t heard anyone use it that way in a looong time.)

I like to use an illustration when I’m teaching on these matters. It’s one my students understand well, because it’s right down the hall from us.

In the classroom building where I teach, there’s a staircase at the center lobby. The “up” staircase is on the right of the lobby, and the “down” staircase, as you might expect, is on the left. Each side has a sign. Up. Down.

Perfectly clear.

Do you need to follow the signs? Is it a sin to go up the down staircase?

Well, it depends. And while this particular illustration is relatively trivial—the decisions you make while driving your car are exponentially more important—it does provide an opportunity to think through the larger biblical principles in a way that encourages objectivity and discourages raw emotionalism.

Authority

The first principle that presents itself is that of authority. There are behavioral requirements of the students—and of the faculty—and the Scripture does say that we should obey those in authority over us: government (Ro 13), church (He 13.17), family (Ep 6.1), employment (Co 3.22). It doesn’t specify “teachers and administrators in a university setting”—universities didn’t exist in those days—but our culture widely recognizes that educational institutions act in loco parentis, and in any case students at my school, like many others, sign a statement that they will conform to the rules of the institution, so here it becomes a matter of personal integrity.

So in the abstract, you shouldn’t go up the down staircase.

But the Scripture also speaks of “the spirit of the law” and “the letter of the law.” Why have the institutional authorities specified an up and a down staircase?

The intent of the regulation is pretty clear: efficiency. And maybe safety. When the stairs are crowded, everybody benefits if the traffic is flowing in one direction. So go with the flow, dude.

That’s called loving your neighbor.

Years ago, I was in a crowd going down the (down) staircase, and here came a male student, in the opposite direction, head down, engrossed in his phone, completely oblivious to the fact that he was turning the traffic flow chaotic. I put my hand in the middle of his chest, waited for him to look up, and said, “Turn around, go back down, and use the stairs over there.” He looked at me incredulously. “You’re kidding!” “No, I’m not. Love your neighbor. It’s the second most important commandment.”

I have no idea who that student was, or how he is now. But I hope he loves his neighbor.

Well, then, what about the slow times? Any problem with going up the down staircase then?

Given the intent of the regulation, none at all.

But in those cases there are other things to consider.

Next time.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Part 2

On Coffee

January 28, 2019 by Dan Olinger 7 Comments

In my just-finished series on When We Fight and When We Don’t, I spent a lot more time on the doctrinal side than the behavioral side. I thought I’d share an experience I had a few years back that got my thinking developing on how we approach behavioral issues.

About 25 or so years ago, I noticed something odd. Every weekend, I would get a headache. Fine all week long, but every Saturday morning, like clockwork, headache. Sunday too. Then Monday I was fine again.

I tested a lot of variables to try to find out the cause. Sleeping in? Nope. Breakfast? Nope. Location-based allergies? Nope.

I guess you can figure out from the title of this post what the cause was. Every day at work I drank coffee. The departmental coffee pot was literally right next to my office, and I made good use of it. Weekend mornings, though, I didn’t make coffee at home.

Well, what am I gonna do about these headaches? I did what any sensible person would do.

I bought a coffee pot, and I made sure I had a cup on Saturday and Sunday mornings so I wouldn’t get a headache.

After I’d done that for a while, I got to thinking.

The headache was a caffeine withdrawal symptom. I was chemically addicted to caffeine.

But it’s not as bad as cocaine—and certainly not as bad as opioids—so it’s OK, right?

I skipped merrily along down that path for a bit longer, and my conscience really began to bother me.

I was a drug addict. Gotta have my hit. Every day. Or I won’t be able to function at my best.

And I thought of Paul’s words to the Corinthians: “All things are lawful unto me, … but I will not be brought under the power of any[thing]” (1Co 6.12).

My schedule and activities were being dictated by a physical addiction.

My conscience continued to bother me. And Paul also says that it’s a sin to violate the restrictions of your conscience (1Co 8.7)—even if the thing isn’t sinful in itself.

A Christian who realizes he’s sinning is supposed to stop.

So I did. Cold turkey. Three days of blinding headaches.

I got clean.

As follow-up, I would try a cup of coffee every few months just to see if the headaches returned. They did, so after a series of lengthening test periods I quit testing and just stayed clean.

Nowadays I find that I’m OK with a cup of decaf (which has a little caffeine, but not much) maybe 3 days a week without headaches. And I really love good coffee, so I’m happy about that. The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it (1Co 10.26), and we ought to enjoy whatever he’s placed here for us, the best we can.

Now. What do I do about my Christian friends who drink full-bore, drug-fueled coffee? Shall I become a prophet, crying in the wilderness against the evils of the demon bean?

Nope. Though I will say that it troubles me when my Christian friends declaim on social media about how they can’t live or function without their morning coffee. If they’re telling the truth—if they’re really physically addicted to caffeine—then I’d suggest that they think about whether maybe they ought to do something about that. Whether maybe they ought to be free—and might rejoice in their newfound freedom.

But short of addiction? Nope. The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it. If they’re drinking coffee and enjoying it, and especially if they’re thanking our good and gracious God for the joy it brings them, then I rejoice with those who rejoice.

For my first several years on the Bible faculty at BJU I shared an office with a long-time friend who’s a coffee aficionado. He roasts his own beans, as close to the time of consumption as possible; he grinds just a cup’s worth of beans at a time; he waxes eloquent on the specifics of crema. Every afternoon about 3, he’d say, “Well, time for a cup of coffee!” And the grinder would surge, and the office would fill with the most delightful aroma of fresh-roasted coffee beans. I couldn’t drink what he made, in good conscience, but I enjoyed the daily routine, and the aroma, and his pleasure in the simple experience of a good cup of coffee.

He’s not sinning. There’s nothing there to fight about, even though we’re behaving differently, for significant theological reasons.

What about you? Have a cup for me, my friends.

Just don’t get addicted.

And don’t sweat the small stuff.

In this outrage-addicted culture, here’s something we can disagree about, for substantial reasons, without being outraged.

How about that?

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

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On Christian Convictions, Legalism, and the Fear of Man, Part 7

May 3, 2018 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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

In our working with this passage, so far we’ve covered just the first chapter, which sets the tone for the whole discussion. Today we’ll look at the rest.

As I noted in an earlier post, Paul lays down the basic principle in 1 Corinthians 8—since your brother’s spiritual health is more important than your personal freedom, you should sacrifice the latter for the former. In chapter 9, Paul uses himself as a personal example; in essence, he says, “I’ve sacrificed my rights for your benefit, so I’m not asking you to do anything I haven’t already done myself.”

In chapter 10, Paul gets more specific. Earlier I’ve said that Paul has agreed that the meat is fine, and that we are free to eat it. But that’s not really the whole story. The meat’s fine, indeed; but you’re not free to eat it in every circumstance. Here he gives three case studies—a no, a yes, and a maybe.

He begins by talking about worship (1Co 10.1-22). Remember how Israel fell into idolatry in the wilderness (1Co 10.1-15)? You can’t do that. You can’t participate in false worship, because worship matters, a lot. And you know about the Lord’s Table (1Co 10.16-22), right? Our worship means something to us too, doesn’t it?

All right, then. If your pagan friend is starting a new business, and wants good luck, and offers an idol sacrifice followed by a reception, you can’t go. Sure, the meat’s fine, but you can’t participate in false worship. Worship matters. A lot. That’s the “No.”

But the idol temple has opened up a little meat shop next door, where the priests sell off the extra meat. It’s good meat, at a good price. Feel free to buy it and eat it (1Co 10.25). That’s the “Yes.”

Now, suppose you have a neighbor invite you over for dinner. He serves steak. You don’t know where it came from, and, says Paul, you shouldn’t even care. Eat the meat (1Co 10.27).

Maybe.

Suppose there’s someone else invited to that dinner—another believer, in fact. He leans over to you, fear in his eyes, and says, “This meat has been offered to idols!”

What do you do then?

I’ll tell you what my instinct would be. I’d say, “Look, man, I understand your concerns. But this friend has invited us for dinner, and he’s lost, and I’ve been witnessing to him for years, and I’m not going to mess that up by making an issue out of something that shouldn’t even be an issue. I’ll talk to you about it later. But for now, trust me. It’s fine; eat the meat. Don’t be rude.”

And my instinct would be exactly wrong. 180 degrees wrong. Completely, backwards, wrong.

What does Paul say? Your brother’s spiritual health is infinitely important. Even though he’s mistaken, you look after him; you take care of him, even if that means being rude to your host (1Co 10.28-30)—and an unbelieving host, at that.

I don’t know of any culture where it isn’t rude to refuse an offered meal. You can try to lighten the offense, of course—“My friend, you have been so kind to us, and this meal looks delicious. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m not going to be able to eat this wonderful steak, because I’m a follower of Jesus.”

But it’s still going to be rude. Maybe he’ll ask why, and that may open up a door for the delightful grace of the gospel. But maybe he won’t; maybe he’ll just think you’re a jackass.

But here’s the thing. Your brother’s spiritual health is worth that risk. It is. Paul clearly says so.

So love your brother. Even if an unbeliever thinks you’re rude. Even if a fellow believer thinks you’re a legalist. Because your brother, the very image of God, is absolutely worth it.

There’s a lot more we could say about all this. I’d recommend a book if you’d like to study the concepts further. And yeah, the book just happens to be by a couple of friends of mine.

This will be my last blog post here for a while. I’m taking a break from blogging here so I can concentrate on blogging for my summer team in Africa. I’d love to have you follow that adventure if you find it interesting. If you don’t, that’s fine; I’ll see you back here, Lord willing, later.

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On Christian Convictions, Legalism, and the Fear of Man, Part 6

April 30, 2018 by Dan Olinger 6 Comments

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

So we’ve established that taking care of one another is more important than exercising our liberties. I think we’re ready now to talk about the fear of man.

Fear of man is a powerful disincentive to doing the right thing. We know what we ought to do, but we’re afraid of what people will think.

Looks to me like the group is about to do something we shouldn’t. I should speak up. But I don’t want to be That Person. I’ll just go along.
What that guy said about his wife is just reprehensible. I ought to take him aside and talk to him about it. But then he might not like me anymore. Hmm. It’s not that big a deal. Probably what he said doesn’t mean anything at all. I’ll let it pass, just this once.
If I befriend that unpopular person …
If I criticize what that cool Christian is doing …

Fear of man. It’s a menace.

I suspect that fear of man is the biggest reason that most Christians—most Christians—ignore Christ’s last and most important command. “Go into all the world,” he said. “And take the gospel to every creature.”

But we don’t. Not to the ends of the earth, not to the next state, not to our neighbor, not to the waitress who came right up to our table and started talking to us.

Nobody.

Because we’re afraid. Of them. Even the friendly ones. And especially the ones we already know.

Fear of man. It’s a menace.

But I’ve seen the charge leveled at people who clearly don’t deserve it. Can you see how someone following the clear principles of our passage might be accused of cowardice?

I have a right to eat meat offered to idols. It’s meat. There’s nothing wrong with it. But there’s this guy in the church who doesn’t think I should. So I won’t.

“Fear of man!” they cry. “You’re free! Free in Jesus! Be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage! Do The Thing! Don’t let fear of what that benighted legalist might think stop you from enjoying—celebrating—all that you are and have in Christ!”

Fair enough. But according to our passage, when we say that, we’re not thinking accurately, or precisely enough.

If I refuse the meat because I’m afraid of what someone will think, that’s indeed fear of man, and I need to deal with my soul about that.

But if I’m restraining myself because I care about that brother’s spiritual health—if I don’t want to encourage him to do something he thinks is wrong—then that’s not fear of man. It’s love for my brother.

It’s what every believer ought to do.

So don’t slander that kind of thinking. Celebrate it. Imitate it. Live that way.

Remember what the critic said? “Be not entangled with the yoke of bondage.”

That’s a Bible verse. Galatians 5.1. And it’s true. We ought not to be entangled with the yoke of bondage.

But the Bible isn’t a collection of inspirational quotations to be pulled out and used as ammunition against fellow believers without any understanding of the context.

What’s the “yoke of bondage” we’re not supposed to re-entangle ourselves with? In context (the entire book of Galatians), it’s attempting to earn salvation by keeping the law. Don’t do that.

But you know what else the context says? This verse is at the beginning of a paragraph. If you’ll read through to the end of the paragraph, you’ll find that Paul says, “By love serve one another” (Gal 5.13). That word serve is the same Greek root as the word bondage in verse 1.

Guess what? We’re free from the law, but we’re not free from everything. We’re bondslaves of Jesus Christ (Gal 1.10) (and yes, that thought is balanced by Gal 4.7, but the principle remains).

And, it turns out, we’re bondslaves of one another too. We serve one another. We put our brothers’ and sisters’ needs ahead of our own. That’s what we’re called to do.

How often, when you’re deciding whether or not to do something that believers disagree about, do you stop and consider the effect of your action on the believers around you? How often do you decide to serve your fellow believer instead of your own desire for freedom? How often?

I’m not asking you to be in bondage to the fear of man. If you labor under that burden—and most of us do, at one time or another—then take that burden to the cross and leave it there.

But serve your brother. Love your brother. As Christ has loved you.

Part 7

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On Christian Convictions, Legalism, and the Fear of Man, Part 5

April 26, 2018 by Dan Olinger 4 Comments

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When Christians disagree about applications, the disagreement often boils down to a toggle question: is doing _____ right or wrong? Is it moral or not?

And in those cases, only one side can be correct. Either a godly Christian can enjoy a glass of wine with his meal, or he can’t. Either I can get a tattoo of a buzzard on the side of my neck, or I can’t.

In the passage we’re examining, Paul has introduced a bit of a complication. If the tattoo is OK, but I think it’s wrong, then it would in fact be wrong for me to get one; I should never violate a restriction my conscience places on me.

But we’re finite, fallen creatures, and our thinkers are busted, and sometimes our consciences are mistaken.

Most commonly in our culture, sometimes they think something is OK when it isn’t. Our culture has set out to sear our consciences, and it’s done a powerfully effective job of that.

Let me give you an example, just to stimulate your thinking.

When I was a boy, my family found Christ in broader evangelicalism. In my Christian high school, most of the faculty were liberal Democrats. Some of them didn’t believe that any genuine Christian could be a Republican. And now some of my fellow travelers don’t believe that any genuine Christian could be a Democrat.

They’re both wrong. But that’s off my current point.

Even in that earlier, broader environment, most pew-sitters in evangelical churches had qualms about Christians going to movies. Even the good movies. You don’t want to support a corrupt industry, you know.

Now, 50 years later, the numbers are reversed. Most Christians see nothing wrong with going to movies.

What’s changed in the meantime? Well, for one thing, the movies have gotten a lot worse.

I’m not trying to make a statement about going to movies here. I’m just observing that over the last 50 years, our consciences have gotten much less sensitive. Now we think of those more sensitive days as “quaint.” That’s what our culture does to people.

But back to my main point. While it’s more likely in this day that your Christian conscience is letting stuff slide, occasionally your conscience may bother you when it shouldn’t. It may be mistaken on the restrictive side.

What do you do then?

Well, as Paul has said in 1 Corinthians 8, for now you need to listen to it, and not do The Thing. You need to keep it sensitive.

But while we need a sensitive conscience, we also need an accurate one.

One of the key attributes of God, oft repeated throughout Scripture, is that he is true. He cannot lie (Titus 1.2); he tells the truth; he keeps his promises (Jer 33.25-26); he is faithful (Dt 7.9). (The OT word for his faithfulness is ‘emunah, the root of our English word “Amen!”—“May it be so!”)

And our life is supposed to be a process of growing to be more like him (Rom 8.29), by the gracious empowerment of his Spirit.

So when we’re wrong about something, we can’t stay that way; we need to get right.

How do we do that?

We know the answer to that question. We experience sanctification, by the Spirit, through the means of grace: Scripture, prayer, fellowship with other believers.

So when I notice that fellow believers seem to have no problem with doing things that would trouble my conscience, I can’t just assume that they’re a bunch of worldly reprobates—smh—and continue my obviously superior lifestyle. I have to ask myself whether I might be mistaken—whether I might be misrepresenting the moral character of God. And I’ll use the means of grace to help me answer that question:

Search the Scripture. What does it say about tattoos, or movies, or wine, or whatever? Does it place absolute restrictions on them? Are there cases where they might be used to glorify God? Are there underlying biblical principles that would make them always wrong? Has the meaning of the practice in our culture shifted over time?
Pray. God does hear us, and he does speak to our conscience through his Spirit, informing it through the Scripture (see previous point). He does providentially engineer connections and experiences to show us where our thinking has been imprecise. Pray, and listen.
Talk with other believers—those who agree with you, and those who don’t. Listen to what they say; hear them. Consider their hearts and their words. And keep listening over time.

You may conclude that The Thing is still wrong, and your conscience may become even stronger in its conviction. But it will be strong for good reasons.

Or you may conclude that you’ve been mistaken. And as you think over these things and inform your conscience through the Word, your conscience will come to the point where it relaxes that restriction on you. And when your conscience gives you permission, you can act freely—as long as you’re not influencing someone else with a weak conscience.

Paul’s not done talking about this matter yet. Turns out there are more things to consider. We’ll start on those next time.

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On Christian Convictions, Legalism, and the Fear of Man, Part 4

April 23, 2018 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

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We’ve seen that Christians can disagree about how to apply Scripture—about what sorts of things they ought to do, and what sorts of things they ought not to do, and why. In 1 Corinthians 8 Paul tells us how to treat one another during those disagreements. The key principle, he says, is not knowledge—which of you Gets It?—but love: we need to take care of one another.

In the situation Paul describes, one of the believers is mistaken; he thinks something is wrong that isn’t. But, says Paul, he needs to listen to his conscience and respect its restriction, even though his conscience is mistaken—because you don’t want to damage your conscience.

But, as I noted at the end of the previous post, that raises two very important questions—

What exactly does it mean to be a “weaker brother”? and
Is it OK to have a misinformed conscience? Shouldn’t we try to correct that?

Let’s talk about the first one here, and the second one in the next post.

Several times (1Cor 8.7, 9, 10, 11, 12) Paul calls the restrictive brother “weak.” What does he mean by that?

I know several Christians who think that any Christian who thinks something is wrong is by definition “weak.” Well, that’s just nonsense. Some things are wrong, and people who don’t recognize that are not morally higher on the evolutionary scale. We’re not more godly by ignoring God’s moral nature. Hitler is not the best Christian ever.
OK, then, maybe “weak” means somebody thinks something is wrong that isn’t. That would appear to fit the context. But I would suggest that it doesn’t fit the whole context. The situation has a believer not merely thinking that something is wrong, but doing that “wrong” thing despite his compunctions (1Co 8.10, 13). And that makes me think carefully about the core meaning of the word weak. I note that it is specifically the brother’s conscience that is said to be weak (1Co 8.7, 10, 12). What’s a “weak” conscience? Well, at the risk of being pedantic, I’d suggest that it’s one that is not strong. And what’s a strong conscience? It’s one that can do what it’s designed to do: stop you when you’re about to do something wrong.
So I’d suggest that the “weaker” brother is not simply one who thinks a disputed action is wrong. He’s a brother who would be inclined to follow your example into doing something he believes to be wrong. He’s one who could be influenced to violate his conscience.

If my take on the language here is correct, then the problem we’re called to address is fairly limited. You don’t have to limit your practice just because another believer thinks you shouldn’t be doing it. You need to limit your practice only if your actions would encourage another believer to violate his conscience.

I’ve noticed that in many of these disputes—food, drink, clothing, music, whatever—both sides are pretty well dug in. Nobody on the “You shouldn’t do that!” side is going to start doing The Thing. In that case, this passage seems to give the Doer freedom to continue what he’s doing.

But while this understanding gives us greater freedom, it also requires a couple of things from us.

First, the Doer can’t call the Non-Doer “weak” just because the two disagree. The Doer can’t think of himself as superior because of his understanding. Knowledge puffs up; love builds up (1Co 8.1). We need to treat one another better than we do.
Second, Scripture holds the Doer responsible for what the Non-Doer might do. That means that we need to be aware of the consequences of our disputed actions; we need to know if there are people in our circle who might follow our example but who shouldn’t.

And that means that we need to know one another better than we do. We need to talk about these things. And that in turn means that we need to have the kind of atmosphere in our churches that encourages us to talk about things over which we strongly disagree. Our churches need to be Safe Spaces—yeah, I said that—where we can trust one another to listen and understand and care and love and embrace.

We need to not have wars, worship or otherwise.

Man, do we have a long way to go.

Next time, we’ll look at the second question: What do we do about a misinformed conscience?

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