A Letter to Jerry Falwell, Jr.

Chancellor Falwell –

I hope this note finds you and your family doing well. If my math is right, it’s about that time of year when students begin to swarm the campus at Liberty University again. I remember my first week vividly. It was full of incredible activities at the William's Stadium and Camp Hydaway along with the beginning of several lifelong friendships I cherish to this day.

I graduated from Liberty in 2011 with a degree in religion and another in health education. In 2015 I completed my Master’s in Pastoral Ministry at LU (online). While I’m no expert, I think my time there has given me a great glimpse into the heart of the organization you lead. And by and large, I think you have done an excellent job. I was part of the first class that you led as our new chancellor after your father passed away. Over those four years it felt like we grew together, students and staff, to learn anew what it meant to be Liberty University. We learned to laugh, cry, study, support, confront, and engage each other in a new time with our new leader.

I realize you probably have received some angry or frustrated correspondence from alumni who remember “the Good Old days” with your father at the helm. The reality is, I’m not one of those alumni. The Liberty I knew and loved (and still love) was always led by you. I even worked for you, in a very indirect way. I was a Resident Assistant for three years and an on campus student recruiter. When people asked me about LU, my passion, joy, and care for it, were (and remain) genuine and real. As a student, an employee, and now an alumnus, Liberty remains a part of me. I made lifelong friends there, met my wife there, selected a career path there, and began to understand what it means to serve and love others there. In a lot of ways, Liberty is at the genesis of my adult life. The life I live now, I owe, in some small way, to your leadership, investment, and guidance at Liberty.

After leaving Liberty, I served as an associate pastor in South Carolina for four years. I had much to learn and didn’t always get things right, but I had a head start and great foundation from LU. Recently, I took a job in the business sector, and here again, Liberty’s investment in me, has proved its value in spades. I have learned that business is not so much about budgets and finance and getting the best deal, but more about understanding people, meeting their needs, and once again, serving others with joy.

I was hoping, for a brief moment, to have a conversation with you about some of the things going on in our world. Don’t worry, there’s no assumptions of ill-motives or anger here. In fact, politically speaking, we probably still line up on a host of major issues – financial conservatism, a baby’s right to life, separation of powers and checks and balances within the government, and more. Even in the areas I now respectfully disagree with you (climate change, the benefits of ACA), I don’t assume you think and vote the way you do because of evil intentions or motives. There’s a lot of problems out there – we have to try to fix them somehow, and sometimes, we disagree. No big deal.

I did want to write to you, respectfully, about leadership. First, I cannot begin to imagine the burden of the mantle you wear. From administrative staffing to building endowment to maintaining a Christian perspective in world that, at times, seems incompatible with the message of Liberty University, you carry a tremendous burden on your shoulders. And I respect you for doing that and persevering in your role. It came to you unexpectedly, suddenly and in my opinion, you have shouldered it well. I won’t even try to compare your role with the one I filled as an associate pastor – they are too different – apples and oranges. Nevertheless though, I think we can both agree leadership of any kind, on a smaller scale like mine or a larger, national level, like yours, comes with pros and cons. The pros are obvious – a bigger platform with greater influence, greater impact in guiding the organization you love, and on and on. The cons are a little more subtle. The time restraints, the late night phone calls, the toll it takes on your family, and the unfair losses.

Unfair losses? Those things that you have to give up as a leader precisely because you lead, even though they are perfectly innocent. As a pastor this meant refraining from certain things I enjoyed – a movie I wanted to see, enjoying a glass of wine in a public space, and on and on. I didn’t balance this well sometimes. My wife can tell you that on a few occassions I came home and would say “I shouldn’t have done that, it wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t worth it.” A simple fact of leadership is that, at times, we have to give up things others get to enjoy.

I will be candid and say that we disagree a good deal about many of President Trump’s positions. Many of them are innocent enough. Some of them are worth more robust debate in a more appropriate setting. Lately though, my concern has been less political, and more about leadership. What held true for me certainly holds true for you and your post as Chancellor – you will be asked to unfairly let go of things that many people enjoy daily. Not drinking. Abstaining from R-rated movies (is that a rule still at Liberty?). And perhaps – holding political beliefs and friendships more quietly than you would like.

If that sounds ridiculous, please allow me to explain a little further.

The mission of Liberty has been from its inception to train Champions for Christ. To educate nurses, businessmen, teachers, pastors, and more to represent Jesus to a dying world. Your father, and now you, are the banner-carrier and guardian of that vision. I would say that protecting that grand, sweeping vision, the heart and mind of Liberty University for the last 46 years, is the most important job you have. Without that vision, Liberty will, as you so often noted, go the way of more liberal institutions.

And that supreme vision, that hope that your students will fan out across the globe and represent Christ, may require you to step back from some of the current political conversation. As a three-time alumnus from Liberty who was also recently a candidate for several jobs throughout the Southeast, I can attest that I have at times been a little nervous to discuss my alma mater. Is that some kind of fear and cowardice within me? Maybe. Or maybe it is the hesitation that comes from sitting across the table from a qualified businessman or woman who is also a minority. In that moment, I have felt the burden to explain my association to Liberty which seems to be, at least, tacitly, very supportive of President Trump who is himself, supported to some degree, by white nationalist agitators. I’m not saying that Trump is himself racist or that everyone that voted for President Trump is racist – that is ridiculous. What I’m saying is Liberty is connected to President Trump and like it or not, President Trump has been heralded by some as a kind of white nationalist messiah. It’s a bit like six degrees of separation, but it’s there and it’s real.

That’s a weird seat to be in. I wanted to communicate my belief in the equality of all men and women while also standing up for Liberty University. I don’t believe you are a racist or a bigot or a part of the alt-right. My experience under your leadership has been highly positive. How in an interview for a job (a process on which my family’s well-being and my career may hinge) do I defend a place I love that seems to be at odds with values I am unwilling to compromise?

I still think you are a qualified, capable leader. No one can change the great experience I had under your leadership. And I don’t think you’ve changed. I don’t think you intend to alienate or divide us based on race or color. And maybe President Trump doesn’t mean to either; I don’t know the man so I can’t say much there. Your continued support of him seems to indicate a strong friendship and trust in him, despite all the controversy of the moment.

The heart of my concern is not political, but centers on leadership. I believe that you can still lead the great institution that I attended for decades to come. That Liberty can continue to be a beacon and influencer through its alumni in every job sector and corner of the earth. Or it can be a university that causes its alumni to balk during interviews because of perceived racism (or whatever the political controversy may be). I realize that our school has always been politically active and that your father frequently entered the fray. There is a time and a place for that, but if there’s always a controversy or fight to be had, it would seem wise to quietly step back.

As a leader, it appears you have two options. To remain vocally, staunchly, publicly committed to the president and ride the highs and lows that come with it. This is your right as an American citizen. Or, you could begin to quietly support the president (I’m certainly not advocating you abandon him as a friend) over private meals, phone calls, and times of advising and prayer. Is the latter option less prominent and public? Absolutely. But with it comes the added benefit to your students who, with a committed, principled chancellor that does not abandon his beliefs but willingly tempers them for the good of those he leads, can represent Christ and the mission of LU with pride, dignity, and great diversity. That is the unfair call of leadership on you. To sacrifice a right, willingly, to maintain and cultivate the vision of Liberty University.

You can be a political mouthpiece and liaison for the president. You can lead Liberty University in its mission in a way that inspires enduring confidence in every member of the student body regardless of race or gender by backing away from public politics. You cannot do both.

I wish you and the Liberty family all the best this school year. I hope this letter has conveyed the spirit in which it was written: humble, honest, candid conversation, not meant to incite or inflame, but to create a conversation, that God willing, will make us all better.

Warm Regards,

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Zach Farrar

A Free Word on Freefalls

Messengers who announce the end don’t typically ask for paychecks. They come freely offering either a promise of swift judgment, or perhaps one last chance to avoid disaster.  

While in the ancient world and literature that was the job of prophets, seers, and divine miracles that we are now much too evolved and sophisticated to stop and ponder seriously, we are nonetheless, still being given a free warning. While Westeros has the Starks proclaiming “Winter is coming,” in 21^st century America we have other messengers that come, freely, to warn us. It’s not Wolf Blitzer or Sean Hannity. Not Bernie Sanders or Paul Ryan. You won’t find it on CSPAN, MSNBC, CBS, or FOX News this week. Recently, the messenger was none other than that classic reality program of the summer – America’s Got Talent.

Seriously? The hour long talent show? Yup. Whether you watch the show or not (it’s a fan favorite at our house), this week’s episode of America’s Got Talent was a double feature – where else can you watch singing clowns, trapeze artists, and 10-year olds pull off a clever Footloose tribute while also getting a free word on freefalls?

But first – a word on entertainment. I think we can all agree that entertainment (movies, TV shows, art, dance, comedy, music, etc.) has an interesting and undeniable connection with our culture and world at large. While we can’t talk about all that now, I propose that entertainment has at least two essential roles: 1. it helps us see our world through a different lens and thereby understand it better and 2. it provides, at times, a healthy escape from the hard truths we as a nation are grappling with. Entertainment helps us understand our world by showing it to us from a different angle (acting like a mirror) and provides a brief escape from our world by taking us to another (acting like a window).

So then, if entertainment is designed to help us understand our world or at least, escape it momentarily, what can we learn from the first live episode of America’s Got Talent this week?

We’ll start with the sad clown – that always seems appropriate doesn’t it?

If you haven’t watched this season, perhaps one of the biggest surprises was an older gentleman dressed as a sad clown named Puddles. After a mimed introduction (because Puddles is also a mime), the clown belts chart topping hits to thunderous applause. While it may seem strange at first, I think the clown is trying to teach us something: that our way of doing things is coming to an end.

Don’t believe me? I get it. I’ve got a lot of convincing to do when I’m advocating that a talent variety show is a messenger of the end. Puddles is a sad clown, undeniably morose and a bit like the guy you want to avoid at a dinner party. If Puddles were an animal he would be Eeyore. But when he sings hit songs like Chandelier or Royals the magic begins. The prophet begins to speak. Because behind the hype of the music and the impressive vocals there is still a sad clown. No matter how he well he hums his tune or perfect his pitch, behind all the hype, the party, the drinking, the consumption, lies a profound sadness. The sadness of a way of life that cannot possibly continue indefinitely. So while others sing of revelry without consequence, Puddles shows us our culture from a different angle. An angle that reveals that the party can’t continue for much longer.

But this week, Puddles offered yet another message about our current predicament. While he certainly fulfills entertainment’s first goal of helping us understand our world, the sad clown gave us a second warning. After performing, Puddles broke down under scrutiny and pressure. The awkward, uncomfortable, and guttural response of the now silent clown to critique was a brief warning of the end.

In Puddles case, it was a message that not even the glamour and glory of a huge stage can be an escape from profound pain and disappointment. For a moment the sad clown showed us not just the pain of the death of his dream, but also the pain that comes with the death of the culture and way of life he was critiquing. At the end of every party song, new or old, there is always a morning after. There is a payment to be made, a cost to count, and often, a new scar to reckon with. Not even a sad clown with a stunning voice and clever act, can keep that message buried. In short, Puddles, through his act and his response to criticism, has shown us the awkward yet inescapable truth that the end is near – this way of life cannot be sustained. More on that later.

Then there’s the Singing Donald Trump. A contestant who immediately earned the ire of some, the loyalty of others, and the skepticism, I would imagine, of most. But his act was to some degree funny and entertaining. Until of course, this week. It wasn’t the mediocre vocals or the funky, gimmicky dance routines; as with the sad clown, it was an inadvertent message.

After receiving remarks from the judges, the man behind the Trump spoke. In a message that was meant to be an explanation of the act more than a part of the act itself, he said he wanted to unite our country and bring people together. Immediate tension followed. One judge put her head on the table in disgust while the crowd grew nervously quiet. Howie Mandel made a joke that fell flat; and for the  second time in an hour we had a troubling message.

Did the Singing Trump provide a different way to view our world – I don’t think so and I don’t think he’s trying to. I think he just wants to make us laugh and forget our problems for a minute. So did the Singing Trump successfully provide an escape from harsh reality for a moment? No. After a week filled with partisan screaming, presidential blunders, and unashamed and frankly nauseating racism by some, our outlet of escape failed us. The Singing Trump made us chuckle and laugh but when the time came, the man behind the act (trying, I think, genuinely to communicate his desire to make people laugh and feel closer) only drove the wedge further in.

So what’s the big deal? If entertainment is designed to help us understand our culture better and provide us with a momentary escape and chance to cope with difficult realities around us, then these inadvertent, awkward moments of reality television actually say a lot.

A Culture in Freefall

These performances help us see the end on the horizon. Not the end of life in America or some post-apocalyptic, dystopian world emerging. But the end of this particular ride. The ride of unbridled American consumption that leaves us filling our stomachs and homes and spending massive amounts of wealth on ourselves while much of the rest of the world labors to provide us with more and starves in the process. The end of the myth that a life without morals, without scruples and discipline, is the good life. The end of the lie that we can live however we want without having to pay the bill at the end of the day.

The end of pretending that our choices, even the smallest ones, do not have massive consequences.

Puddles shows this best in his act. That’s the genius of his act. A sad clown singing popular club songs. Why? Because after the lyrics end, the party fades. The sun rises and there’s not a whole lot left but retching on the bathroom floor. That’s the end of the song. That’s the 12 hours after Chandelier stops playing. The party is over – now we must face what comes next, and it isn’t the stuff of pop music.

Taking off the Mask

Perhaps more interestingly though, the Singing Trump and Puddles have shown us that the time has come to take off our masks.

Masquerade parties were once the thing to do. Everyone would come to a gala and dance, eat, and drink as they pleased, all with their identity camouflaged with a simple mask. No matter how grand the party, how sweet the wine or how sensual the dancing, the hour always came when the masks came off. As the clock struck midnight, it was time to reveal your true identity, to show those you had cavorted and flirted with who you really were.

The awkward reactions of both Puddles and the Singing Trump were moments when the entertainment sector took its mask off. For a brief few seconds neither performer could fulfill their entertainment duty – to help us escape. The desperate murmurs of Puddles and the divisive comments of the Singing Trump revealed something I think we all know intuitively – there is no escaping this. No amount of entertainment can blunt the reality of our world. It is a fundamental goal of entertainment to provide us with some measure of healthy coping by escape. But in these moments, the entertainers and the viewers both came to realize, there is no escaping this. There is no laughing it away or pretending it doesn’t exist for more than a few moments; this is a culture in freefall.

Think I’m crazy? Again, I get it. But turn to many other forms of entertainment and you’ll see the same issues. The Vice President is cajoled at a Broadway show. Tina Fey mocks and mourns the carnage in Charlottesville on Saturday Night Live. Awards ceremonies, be it the Espies or the Oscars, are filled with awkward moments of political protest. And all of it points to where we are now – 30,000 feet in the air and running on fumes.

Hope in a Freefall

With the ground approaching rapidly a wise question to ask perhaps is, can you have hope in a freefall? It’s a complicated question with a complicated answer: yes and probably not.

Yes, as an individual you can have hope. As our culture is shaken and rocked, we can survive as individuals. We can live differently if we belong to another country. We can survive a freefall because Jesus saw it through to the shattering end for us. We can escape precisely because He chose not to. We can survive a national calamity culturally as individuals because ultimately, we are citizens that live differently. Why? Because we belong to another kingdom:

“By faith, Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. By faith he went to live in the land of promise…for he was looking forward to the city that has eternal foundations, whose designer and builder is God…let us be grateful for receiving a heavenly kingdom that cannot be shaken, and let us offer to God acceptable worship with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire, (Heb. 11;9-11,12:28-29).”

So can you and I survive a national disaster? Yes. As individuals we certainly can. But only if we aren’t first and foremost citizens of that nation. We must be citizens of another kingdom, a heavenly city, that cannot be shaken. And we must live like the King of that world requires us. Obeying not out of fear, but out of respect, love, and awe. You and I can survive America’s collapse precisely because as believers, we are not first and foremost American. We are citizens of an eternal kingdom, adopted into His family by faith in His Son Jesus.

On the other hand, is there hope in a freefall? Probably not. Not for nations that is. Biblically this is called national solidarity – the idea that God rules and judges not just individuals but also nations for both the good and bad they do. Amos, Obadiah, Nahum, Hosea, Jonah, and Habakkuk all rebuked and condemned not just individuals but entire nations. They warned nations of coming calamity for their evil behavior. While nations don’t have immortal souls (but individuals certainly do), we are nonetheless accountable to God. In a week when two western countries celebrated the eradication of Down’s Syndrome through targeted abortion campaigns (a more fitting description would probably be eugenics in action) and our own country seems unwilling to shut up and listen to someone who is different from ourselves and our own camp, the idea of national solidarity and judgment before God as an entire people is disquieting.

Even if you reject the biblical basis for national divine judgment for large scale evil and sin, history tells the same story. The Greeks, Persians, Romans, Byzantines, and European colonizers would all warn us that, as a nation, your chickens do come home to roost. The freefall can’t last forever, there really is ground approaching and the landing will not be smooth.

Can our current predicament be changed? Can we pull out of the nosedive? Certainly, by the grace of God, as both individuals and as a country, we can avoid disaster. I sincerely hope we will. But that requires a humility, grace, faith, and forgiveness I think we are, at least in national terms, not likely to embrace. Can the crash be averted? Absolutely. Will it be averted? I claim no hidden knowledge, but according to the prophets in entertainment this past week, the answer seems to be, probably not.