The Politics of Fear and the Love of War

The presidential election is officially upon us. With Iowa in the rearview mirror, the nation’s attention now focuses on New Hampshire, followed by South Carolina and Nevada, and ultimately with the Super Tuesday primary contests in March. I don’t fancy myself a political guru or pundit, but around this time of year, I find myself wanting to be well-informed. After watching a few GOP presidential debates and one of the Democratic contests, I think we could probably summarize the major motivation of both party platforms in one word: fear.

Fear of terrorism, fear of economic inequality, fear of Obamacare, fear of debt, fear of global warming, fear of immigrants. In the 2016 presidential contest, whether for Republicans, Democrats or even Independents, the tenor of the day is fear. And to some degree, I understand the concerns. We should be actively concerned with radical terrorist organizations who threaten not only our well-being but the lives and safety of all people. We should fear crippling national debt that paralyzes commerce and in the long run, human flourishing. We should be concerned about the poorest of not only our nation but also the world and caring for them well. We may disagree on how to assail and ultimately overcome these daunting challenges, but I think we can all agree they are concerning and at times, frightening.

But the politics of fear goes far beyond a healthy concern for real threats. In this presidential election, more than most others, it is a tool for the simple reason that fear motivates. With that tool handy, politicians have been eager to flock to another troubling human reality: the love of war. Do you have a reasonable fear of ISIS? Vote for Ted Cruz – he promises to “carpet bomb the Middle East until the sand glows in the dark.” Afraid of Syrian refugees? Trump is your candidate, vowing to place an indefinite stay on all Muslim immigration and refugee asylum in the United States. Economic inequality and global warming haunting your dreams? Vote for Bernie Sanders, the candidate who promised in one democratic debate “a political and social revolution.” What about cyber-warfare and a growing nuclear menace in both North Korea and Iran? Fret not, vote for Hillary Clinton, a proven state leader who knows how to act decisively and vigorously when need be. After all, she was under heavy sniper fire in Bosnia in 1996.

In 2016, fear is a commodity and every candidate, Republican, Democrat, or Socialist, is banking on you and I buying the fear they are selling and then wholeheartedly throwing our support behind their plan for war – be it a socio-economic revolution or stunning military campaign in Syria mingled with anti-immigrant legislation at home. Fear in 2016 will define much of our presidential race and discourse about the election. Fear leading to a love of war. War, which with god-like power pulverizes the source and cause of our discomfort and unease.

Perhaps the most nauseating example of this would be Donald Trump’s campaign that he readily admits has taken on “the mantle of anger.” Bloodlust and self-righteous retribution against all of America’s enemies, real or illusionary, seems to be his major talking points. Recently what stood out most about Donald Trump is his seeming eagerness for conflict. He seems to personify the desire and love of war. This embodiment of the love of war, of domination, of subjugation, in a single candidate should disturb us. As a three-time alumnus of Liberty University, I was flabbergasted and dismayed when the University Chancellor and President, Jerry Falwell Jr. sought to catalyze Christian support for Donald Trump. Forget the extra-marital trysts. Forget the wealth built of the backs of poor people that elevates a singular bombastic ego while increasing the misery of thousands looking for hope in a slot machine. Forget the demonization of non-white races or his exploitation of women at his casino’s exotic dance clubs. Donald Trumps eager zeal and love of war alone should have caused the University leader to at least pause and reevaluate.

In a strikingly similar context, Winston Churchill warned the House of Commons in 1901 of the misery, pain, and agony that come when fear is capitalized upon and politicians and the people at large, love war. Rebuking his colleagues in Parliament for their lust and love of war, Churchill said, “I have frequently been astonished to hear with what composure and how glibly Members, and even Ministers, talk of war…such a conflict (will end) in the ruin of the vanquished and the scarcely less fatal commercial dislocation and exhaustion of the conquerors.” Churchill, one of the greatest leaders in human history – the man who bolstered a faltering British spirit during the darkest days of World War II – was a man who was not eager to plunge humanity into war. Neither a pacifist nor a warlord, Churchill chartered a third path less frequented in his and our political landscape: he hated war and its devastation but saw its necessity at times.

I am not a pacifist. I believe that as long as sin and evil are a reality in our world, that war will at times be the just and right cause. Pacifism, Churchill would later note, often accelerates war as the appeasement policy of Chamberlain with Adolf Hitler eventually revealed. But I also don’t think Christians should love war. I understand the political gesticulating – it’s easy for Sanders or Cruz or Trump or Rubio or whoever to speak with bravado now because frankly, their words are empty. There’s now situation room they will enter immediately after a debate where they will have to make good on their promises of war. War is for each of them, a hypothetical – one they all seem eager to make a reality.

For Christians, this means we need to think more critically about war and not buy into the political love affair of the day. We shouldn’t have the seeming angry bloodlust of so many candidates jockeying for our votes. We should strive however we can to live peaceably with all people (Rom. 12:18). We should also be grateful for our governments, which, like it or not, God has divinely set over us, for better or worse, to protect the upright and punish the wicked (in an ideal world). And above all, I think it means we don’t look to war for hope. I think it means we call this national love affair with war what it is – a broken idolatry; a search for hope and peace and safety through the domination of those who are our enemies. A Christian love and eagerness for the widespread, cataclysmic destruction of war is an oxymoron.

Good can come from war – tales of heroism, loyalty, sacrifice, and bravery populate the bleak landscape of war. In fact, my favorite movie is Saving Private Ryan – a story of family, love, loyalty, bravery, and courage that all take place against the backdrop of Hitler’s psychotic plan to dominate the world and those who courageously, sacrificially opposed him. Those qualities that are brought out from conflict are to be honored and celebrated. We should love the men that embody them, not the devastation that called them out. To quote J.R.R. Tolkien, a veteran of World War I, “War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all. But I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”

Sound advice in a world where fear is a political commodity and war is our saving grace.

Three (brief) Thoughts on Jesus, Love, and Marriage

With the Supreme Court’s ruling on Hodges v. Obergefell, gay marriage became a legal right in the United States of America. Each of us will remember where we were and what we were doing when we heard the news on Friday, June 26, 2015. I was pumping gas at a Pitt Stop and contemplating getting a soda when my friend texted me about it.

Since the ruling was released, I have had three thoughts about this monumental change. Others will no doubt write volumes on this day that will be read in years to come. For now, I would like to share just three brief thoughts:

1.     How would Jesus respond?

In the torrent of social media posts and blogs that came with the courts ruling, Jesus came front and center as people quoted famous lines such as “do not judge, so that you will not be judged,” (Matt. 7:1-5). And quoting the apostle John, “God is love,” (1 John 4:8). It’s easy to quote these passages, take them for face value out of context and move forward. It’s harder, and frankly more painful, to ask a deeper question – how would Jesus respond to someone in a homosexual relationship? We could use these passages to say He would support them and simply move on. But if we truly call Jesus Lord or simply want to understand what He really would do, I think we should look for more justification than just a few quotes we all like to cherry-pick when convenient for ourselves.

Jesus never dealt specifically with homosexuality. So in some ways, we must learn from other situations we know about from His life. As the Supreme Court ruling came out this week and I thought about all the nuances of this change, my mind continued to meditate on John 8.

After discovering a woman in the very act of adultery, a group of leaders brought her to Jesus and asked what they should do – hoping all the while that He would either act morally liberal and brush off her sin, or act severely, calling for her death. Either reaction would alienate Christ from the people. Jesus responded in a third way, reminding the bloodthirsty crowd of their own sin, saying “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her,” (John 8:7). With the humbling reminder, the crowd walked off. Then Jesus looked at the woman and asked “where are they? Has no one condemned you? Neither do I condemn you; go and from now on sin no more,” (John 8:10-11).

The irony of the situation is that while the crowd called for blood, only Jesus Himself was actually qualified to condemn the woman since He never sinned. Yet rather than stone the woman, Jesus chose gracious love. He forgave her sins. But He did not stop there – after offering the woman grace freely, He instructed her simply “go and from now on sin no more.”  Aware that His death would soon pay for her sin of adultery, Jesus offered her forgiveness but called her also to follow Him in a different, grace-filled and freeing way. He offered grace and he expected her to follow Him.

While Jesus never dealt with homosexuality, I think this passage offers us a glimpse into how He would respond today. He would rebuff and rebuke those of us who often like to pile on and condemn gay people and remind us of our own sin and need for grace. And He would lovingly look at those who have been humiliated because of their sin (be it adultery, homosexuality, or really any sin that puts us in someone else’s self-righteous cross-hairs) and offer grace. With all my heart, I believe Jesus looks at homosexuals and with grace and love beckons them, “Neither do I condemn you, go and sin no more.” The offer is grace – the call is to follow Him. After receiving His gift of salvation, Jesus expects and demands homosexuals and heterosexuals alike to abandon our old lives and follow Him.

2.     A Better Love

But why? Why does Jesus demand that those who have accepted His grace follow and trust Him? Why can’t we just carry on with life the way it was? The answer is simply that Jesus loves us more than we love ourselves.

Many will claim that June 26, 2015 saw a gigantic victory for the equality of love. This thought can only be true if we have a low view of love. If we define love as happiness, then certainly the Supreme Court’s ruling is a victory for happiness, allowing same-sex couples to finally, in the eyes of the law, be equal in marriage.

But I think we agree that love is more than happiness. It must be otherwise we would never endure difficult seasons with people (spouses, parents, friends, co-workers) that no longer make us happy. While hard to define, I think we would all agree that love is less about happiness and more about sacrificially working toward and for the ultimate good of someone else. Husbands and fathers show love to their families when they work at a job they loathe for years in which they are underpaid, overworked, and poorly treated. Why? Because their pain and sacrifice is for the good and flourishing of their family. Mothers do the same similarly as they (many times) work as well as serve as the front line at home in dealing with discipline, illness, and so much more for their children. Why the sacrifice? Because they don’t just want their children to be happy, they want the best for them. And sometimes the best means learning a hard lesson by being grounded, or a spoonful of medicine that tastes more like poison and less like an antidote.

Jesus loves people and wants the best for us. He does not just seek our happiness, He is seeking our ultimate good and satisfaction. That deep love drove Him from heaven to earth to a cross to make it possible that we might experience our ultimate good – being in a renewed, vibrant family with Him. To say that Jesus would not call heterosexuals or homosexuals to abandon our sin is to belittle the cross. He died precisely so that by grace we could do just that. He does not love poorly and merely desire our happiness – He wants our supreme satisfaction which comes only through relationship with Him, on His terms, not our own. As C.S. Lewis wrote, "It would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by an offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."

3.     Going Forward

The Hodges v. Obergefell decision begs one last question – where do we go from here? I have a couple final thoughts from here, for both those who agree with me and those who do not.

Those who agree: Moving forward from here, I hope people who agree with me will consider two things:

First, we can disagree with an institution or idea, hate it even, but still love someone who follows it. Jesus hated adultery, no one can possibly question that (Matt. 19:6), but He showed love and forgiveness to the woman everyone expected Him to execute for that same sin. Jesus embraced sinners and befriended them even – but He didn’t condone their sin. We must live in this paradox: loving people and when appropriate telling them about the One who offers them a better life of freedom from sin in grace. We can disagree with homosexuality, and love homosexuals, just as Christ opposed adultery, yet showed grace, love, and forgiveness to an adulteress.

Second, this topic need not be the first thing we talk about with gay people. Sexuality is not the defining quality of a person. As people, we all have hopes, dreams, stories, jobs, families, frustrations, pet-peeves, and hobbies. We should be friends with practicing homosexuals. We have much in common to form a friendship. And within the context of loving relationship we can lovingly, graciously, and humbly disagree. Perhaps the best exercise moving forward for all of us who disagree with gay marriage is to befriend a gay person. It can transform caricatures in our minds and hate in our hearts into love, friendship, and humble-yet-honest disagreement.

Those who disagree: If you have read this far and disagree with me, thank you. Seriously – no sarcasm. In a world of sound bites and 30-second news clips, it seems impossible today to let anyone fully voice their sincere belief. Moving forward from here, I hope you would not engage in the belittling and caricature driven jabs and comments we are all accustomed to. People who have opposed same-sex marriage (myself included at times) have been guilty of that. I hope that as Christians, we will get better at this, even though we disagree on something this basic and important.

It’s easy to take cheap shots – both sides are guilty of that. Moving forward from here, I hope you will not assume all Christians hate gay people. Though we disagree, I don’t hate gay people. I have two good friends who are gay. And we talk about a bunch of things – movies, our alma mater's football program, our jobs, our families, vacation plans, our dreams, frustrations, and more. And at times we talk about how we disagree – knowing that neither one of us has the power to change the mind or heart of the other. That’s God’s work, not mine or yours.

We can be more than civil and disagree. I firmly believe we can love each other and with humble-compassion, disagree.

The Delight of Forgiveness

Somewhere along the way many of us have gotten a bad taste in our mouth when it comes to forgiveness. We readily want and accept this spiritual staple ourselves without a second thought or question, but few of us readily dole out forgiveness to friends, family, or anyone who has really slighted even in the smallest sense.  

Forgiveness has become one of the least loved pieces of following Jesus. So many other aspects of genuinely loving and following the Lord seem to cost us much less. We can give our time and energy to serve our community, our neighbors, and our friends. We give financially to support local churches and missionary work abroad. We laud defending the weak, the poor, the oppressed, the widow and the orphan – and for good reason since God expects and commands us to do so (James 1:27). Each of these pieces of practicing our faith does cost us something – but the benefit, the blessing we get in return for being obedient, is immediate. We can see hungry bellies being filled with food we provide. We can see our neighbors enjoying a warm home this winter because we stepped in and paid the electric bill after they lost their job. We can see a group of young men on a football team radically change as their coaches spend years investing and leading them. These are all great endeavors and the work God does in and through us sometimes even provides us with encouraging sight into how the Lord has used us.

But why is forgiveness so hard? Why does it feel like such a duty. For many of us we here Jesus command, “if you refuse to forgive others, your Father will refuse to forgive you,” (Matt. 6:15) and begrudgingly think, “alright, I will forgive you for this, but only because I have to.” For most of us, there is very little joy in forgiving.

I think we have forgotten and important, liberating truth: there is delight in forgiveness. We should be ready to forgive precisely because God found great joy, delight even, in forgiving us; and when we forgive, we too can delight in it. Forgiveness brings delight.

What Forgiveness Is Not

Before we think any further about forgiveness, we must first clearly understand what forgiveness is not. This may seem silly and unnecessary, but so many of us, myself included, find forgiveness laborious and dreadful because we do not really understand what it is not.

Many of us grew up under the lie that forgiveness means pretending. Playing along that we never really were hurt. From being picked on at the dinner table by our siblings to finding yourself victim to unwarranted ridicule on the football field to the constant, belittling comments from your boss, we all daily are the focus of actions by others that for one reason or another, aggravate, irritate, and in some cases, deeply hurt us. We all rightly move along from many of these little cuts and scrapes. No one can make it through life with paper-thin skin. But we all have days when the wrong comment, email, or conversation sinks in to our hearts and festers.

Then of course we are all aware of the catastrophic sins of our day that no thick skin can truly protect against. From rampant fatherlessness (43% of homes are without a stable, consistent father figure according to the U.S. Census) to sexual assault (around 20% of children are attacked before their 18^th birthday, 75% of them by people they knew and trusted), our world is coming unhinged with egregious crimes and sins against one another. And the lie many of us believe in the midst of it all? Forgiveness means pretending it never happened.

Failing to acknowledge sin’s painful effects crushes us. We may not be able to place our finger on why it feels so off, but we know we have been cheated when we believe the lie that we merely need to move on. This robs us – forces us to bury and leave unresolved very real injuries.

For extreme cases like fatherless homes, such denial and pretending is often devastating: 63% of children and teenagers who commit suicide come from fatherless homes while 70% of all students in juvenile detention facilities come from a home without a dad. There certainly is no exact correlation here – not all fatherless children commit suicide or are incarcerated. These statistics do show however, a severe degree of pain and heartache. How dare we dismiss or minimalize such pain with a false forgiveness that squelches someone’s suffering. Would we trust and follow the direction of a doctor who tells us a gunshot to the chest requires no medical attention? Neither should we cover up and leave unattended and un-healed the bruises, cuts, and sometimes deep gashes that come to us in life. To believe forgiveness is pretending is to believe a lie. To believe that lie, is to rob ourselves and others of joy.

God Pays the Debt

Forgiveness is letting go of a rightly held debt. We see this when we say “So-and-so’s debt was forgiven.” What bank would tell us they forgave us our debt if we did not in fact owe them money?

True forgiveness is more than just playing along with an illusion. It means acknowledging that someone has wrongly caused us pain – sometimes minor sometimes life-changing – and that unearned, unwarranted discomfort has placed them in debt to us. We did not deserve whatever we got – a sharp word, getting bypassed wrongly for a promotion, or assault or worse. The pain we experience is the result of sin. Wrongdoing is the culprit and we are not foolish or weak for acknowledging the hurt it has caused.

 False forgiveness pretends the wrong never occurred and tells us to bury whatever pain and discomfort we feel. But God practices forgiveness in a radically different way. Read any of the Old Testament prophets and what do we find – the unbelievably wickedness of God’s people and His anger against them. In His anger against their wrongdoing, God promised:

Because you despised what I tell you and trust instead in oppression and lies, calamity will come upon you suddenly. It will be like a bulging wall that bursts and falls. In an instant it will collapse and come crashing down. You will be smashed like a piece of pottery – shatter so completely that where won’t be a piece left that is big enough to carry coals from a fireplace or a little water from a well. (Isaiah 30:12-14).

In examining the wrongs of His people, God does not shy away from their sin. He calls it for what it is – oppression and deceit (among other things). After detailing their sins, the Lord acted as Judge, pronouncing the debt they owed to Him. The just and right punishment for the inexcusable wrongs? Sudden disaster and destruction. Elsewhere Isaiah and other prophet’s describe this coming, earned punishment as “crying in public squares and in every street…for I will pass through and destroy them all,” (Amos 5:16-17). There is no offer of some neutered forgiveness or hope of pretending all is well. God faces sin squarely, face-to-face, and declares the debt it causes. Wrong must be punished. The wrongdoer must pay the penalty – the debt – of their sin. God minces no words here – evil places us in deep debt to Him and He will not turn a blind eye to the pillaging of His creation by our evil hearts and deeds.

Astonishingly though, God does not insist that we pay our debt of sin. Isaiah 53 shows us entirely the opposite – that God offers to face sin squarely for us and the debt on our behalf so that we can be rescued. Speaking of the future work of Jesus, Isaiah wrote, “When he sees all that is accomplished by his anguish he will be satisfied. And because of what he has experienced, my righteous servant will make it possible for many to be counted righteous, for he will bear all their sins,” (Is. 53:11).

In one simple verse we see the delight of forgiveness. Jesus offers us forgiveness, but He does not do so lightly. His justice and integrity demand that wrongdoing be punished; sin’s debt must be paid. But rather than force us to pay that debt ourselves, He steps in our place and pays the debt of many. God did not flinch to pay the price of sin. He did not pretend our misdeeds were really childish offenses easily forgiven. No, He chose the long, blood-soaked path that demanded death as just payment of sin. His death paid our debt.

His response after His sacrifice is equally shocking – delight. Isaiah wrote that He was “satisfied” when He saw what His death and anguish achieved: sin was punished, debt was satisfied, people were freed. The result is joy. I often struggle to believe that God finds joy in forgiving us. We often default to assuming God is an impatient Father, tapping His foot and shaking His head while watching us, all the while wondering “when will I get to stop bailing them out.” But God gives us a vastly different picture – He finds great joy, delight even, in forgiving – in acknowledging our wrongdoing and the debt it places us in and then stepping in graciously to pay that price himself so that He can free us from the bondage of sin. For God, forgiveness brings joy and delight (Eph. 1-2, Heb. 12:2).

When we are forgiven, we find delight in undeserved freedom. When we feel and understand the crushing reality of our sin, how profoundly inexcusable our behavior is we perceive and even accept that we owe the one we wronged. We are indebted to them for our sins. In our wrongdoing we have indebted ourselves to them until we can make right what we have made wrong. Unfortunately, no human repayment seems adequate. What is monetary gain for a child whose father has abandoned them for another family? What are tears and apologies when trust has been broken and friends or co-workers betrayed. To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, we can forgive many things, but when we perceive the depths of our evil against another we realize no efforts on our part is truly satisfactory. We stand before them and before God totally, inexcusably guilty. With not a penny to our name, we cannot hope to pay those we owe.

Forgiveness brings joy. After being forgiven for committing adultery, conspiracy, and murder, King David wrote “what joy for those whose rebellion is forgiven, whose sin is put out of sight! Yes, what joy for those whose record the LORD has cleared of sin,” (Psalm 32:1-2, 6). What David celebrated and what can give us joy today, is that though we are embarrassingly inadequate and unable to pay our debts to others and most importantly our to Creator-King, He offers forgiveness. He faced the price of sin down and paid it in full. He pays the price – we receive our freedom. In our freedom we delight in the One who out of no obligation to us, paid our debt to Him and others. In forgiveness we delight.

To Forgive is to Delight

Accepting forgiveness is easy. Forgiving others is hard. If you are like me, forgiving others can be difficult because a proud part of your heart rises up and says “they did not hurt me, they do not mean enough to me for them to hurt me. I’m stronger than that.” That is all well and good when we are dealing with a guy cutting us off in traffic. It’s a different story when it’s our father. Or our spouse. Or a close friend. It’s different when it’s someone we’ve been transparent and even at times vulnerable with.

Yet despite how much pain we may have wrongfully been dealt, God’s command stands firm, “you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. You must make allowance for each other’s faults and forgive…remember the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others,” (Colossians 3:12-13). Making forgiveness a command seems to steal the joy we could feel from it. Paul probably understood how we all like to accept it but returning in kind is not as easy.

We find joy in forgiving others because their debt can and has been paid. Without Christ, a person who has wronged us cannot really, truly satisfy their debt to us. As a result, we all find ourselves enslaved to sin and each other – there is no way to break free. But at the cross, sin was fully faced, it’s gigantic payment satisfied, and freedom became a possibility. Because Jesus’ faced my sin, I can walk in freedom, no longer shouldering the burden of sin and debt I have racked up against Him. Because Jesus’ paid for the sin of everyone in my life, I can offer them freedom because their debt has been paid as well.

When I want to see someone who has hurt me pay for their wrongdoing, I need only look to the cross. Jesus offered to pay their debt for them to. I can find peace and rest, knowing that the wrongs, however mild or profoundly life-changing, have been confronted. Justice has been meted out – Jesus has satisfied their debt for them (or at the very least offered to if they do not follow Him). I need not feel like I have been cheated, for Jesus has suffered the consequences of their sin for them. The debt owed to me because of their evil has been paid. In light of that – in light of knowing that the debt so-and-so owes me has been paid – I can let go of their debt. I can offer them freedom. I can release them. We can delight in forgiveness because we know the debt they owe us has been paid by Christ.

The delight forgiving brings does not mean it is an easy endeavor. Sometimes merely facing the deep-seated pain someone has caused us alone is a taxing, wrenching endeavor. Nevertheless, we must press into the command Jesus has given us – to forgive (release from debt) as we have been forgiven (been released from our debt). What we owed has been paid by, Jesus. What others owe us has been paid, by Jesus. Forgiving others at times will not be easy or enjoyable at the beginning, but it will bring us joy as we remember the debt Christ has paid for us and that He too has paid the debt others owe us. That is why we can delight in forgiveness.