I remember it like it was yesterday, and I’m still not sure how to think about it.

I believe I was in sixth grade, so I must have been eleven years old. It was a tough year. The usual troubles at home, and my teacher, a forceful lady whose family had had some historical differences with mine (I have no evidence that that fact influenced her), had decided that the only explanation for the trouble I was having in arithmetic class must be laziness. She had made it her business to shape me up. She lectured me often in front of the class. She gave me special punishments. She’d made me one of her personal projects.

One afternoon when school was over, I was coming out into the entryway to the building. There were inner doors at the top of the wide steps, and outer doors at the bottom. Three guys were waiting for me outside the inner doors. They ringed me, blocking my way. “Why don’t you try harder at math?” they asked. Continue reading A moral problem →

As you may possibly have noticed, I am not known for my cheery, optimistic demeanor. Whenever I get together with Mark Steyn for brandy and cigars, he says to me, “Chill, dude. Things aren’t that bad.”

So if I counsel you not to despair, and to act on hope even when you feel none, you’ll know I’m speaking from conviction, if not from enthusiasm.

Today I was reading from the Gospel of Mark, Chapter 15, verses 42-43.

It was Preparation Day (that is, the day before the Sabbath). So as evening approached, Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body.

What struck me about this passage was the apparent futility of Joseph’s action. As a member of the Sanhedrin with suspicious connections to the Nazarene sect, in a city occupied by Romans, he had absolutely nothing to gain by bringing himself to the attention of the authorities on either side. The Rabbi was dead. Nothing could be done about that. Wouldn’t the prudent thing be to keep a low profile until feelings subsided?

But for some reason we can only guess at, Joseph went to the hated Roman procurator and ask for the body. Perhaps he went right into Pilate’s house, though that would pollute him ceremonially, since he was planning to handle a corpse anyway. It was a quixotic gesture, like a Confederate soldier flying the Stars and Bars in a city occupied by Federal troops. There wasn’t a thing to be gained by it, and much to lose.

But unbeknown to himself, he was participating in a victory he couldn’t conceive of.

When I read Two Years Before the Mast, I came across a sailor’s proverb, quoted by Richard Henry Dana. It’s passed into our language in abbreviated form since then– “Never say die, while there’s a shot in the locker.”

The moral of this story seems to be that we should never say die even when the locker’s empty.

My article on Norway is up at The American Spectator today. Link here.

Sad news (as if we needed more). John Stott has passed away, old and full of years as the Bible says (he was 90).

J.I. Packer remembers that Stott “in his younger days … was a brilliant and hard-worked student evangelist.” He was the chosen speaker for a considerable number of Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship’s week-long evangelistic campaigns at British universities, particularly Cambridge and Oxford. These later extended to North America and throughout the Commonwealth. From these evangelistic talks came one of his best-selling books, Basic Christianity (1958), which has been translated into 25 languages and sold well over a million copies.

Billy Graham first visited England in 1946, and Stott met him while sharing open-air preaching at Speakers’ Corner in Hyde Park. In 1954 he welcomed Graham for his 12-week Harringay Crusade, and the two became warm friends. Later on this friendship would be important to the Lausanne movement, but it is worth noting that it began through an active, shared commitment to evangelism.

Further thoughts on the matters I discussed last night.



The issue of religious cooperation between groups that differ theologically is a velcro-ish one. I have come to a view of my own, which I’ll outline here. Use it if you find it helpful. If not, no big deal.

Cooperation looks very different today than it did when I was young. In those easy times (easy from a social point of view), Christians had the luxury of being stand-offish with each other. A Lutheran church might very reasonably refuse to participate in, say, a community event where a Baptist preacher spoke (though my own people were pretty tolerant of Billy Graham). Even the Baptists understood that. In its way, it was a statement of respect for Baptist exceptionalism.

And cooperating with Catholics? Well, that would only happen in the face of something very big. A community tragedy, perhaps. And even then the Lutherans would take some steps to make it clear they weren’t giving tacit assent to the idea of the authority of the pope.

It’s different now. Christians who actually believe the historic faith are a small remnant, with our backs to the wall, fighting for survival. In general (there are exceptions), if somebody throws us an ammunition belt or shares his canteen, we don’t ask which division he comes from. We have much greater differences with those guys over there who are trying to kill us.

Still, there are limits. Politics is different from faith. I won’t pray with some people, though I’d vote for them. It would be untrue to my own creed, and condescending to theirs.

In my Bible study some years back, I came across what I judge to be Jesus Christ’s principle in these matters.

First of all, there’s Matthew 12:30, where Jesus says, “He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters.”

A hard statement, beloved of stern sectarians (like me, I suppose). This verse falls like a cleaver, chopping humanity into two segments.

But there’s another statement, similar but intriguingly different, in Mark 9:39-40: “Do not stop him,” Jesus said, “No one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad against me, for whoever is not against us is for us.”

“What’s this?” I used to wonder. “Isn’t this a contradiction?”

Then I read closely, and realized it’s not a contradiction at all. Jesus is discussing two different things.

In Matthew, He says that whoever is not with Him is against Him.

In Mark, He says that whoever is not against us is for us.

The difference is in the pronouns.

I think Jesus is setting up a hierarchy of values here. The crucial thing is what someone confesses about Jesus. That’s an in or out matter; faith in Him is central and determinative.

But when it comes to being for or against “us” (our group within the Christian community), the standard is lower. I don’t have to demand that someone else share my group’s every point of theology in order to accept them as brethren.

I need to carefully examine what they say about Jesus—don’t get me wrong on that. But once I’m satisfied that they believe in the Christ of Scripture and the creeds, then I can agree to disagree on other stuff.

This is my own interpretation. I am willing to be corrected by wiser souls.

Giovanni di Paolo, Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane

Thoughts thought during my Bible reading today:

I’ve been reading Mark 14. This dramatic chapter covers the anointing of Jesus by the woman at Bethany, the Last Supper, the Garden of Gethsemane, and His trial before the Sanhedrin.

The anointing incident kicks the crisis off by pitting Judas against Jesus (we know from another gospel that Christ rebuked him personally). Immediately after that he goes to the priests to offer his services as a button man. Then–from a human point of view–the whole thing heads rapidly downhill. Judas is just the first defection in what will become a general rout.

Jesus warns the disciples that they will “all fall away.” Peter emphatically denies the possibility and gets his own denial predicted in detail. While Jesus prays in the Garden, all the disciples fall asleep. Jesus is saddened by their weakness (Mark 14:37-38). But He’s not surprised, and He’s not discouraged.

The disciples are utter, complete failures.

But from the point of view of Christ’s mission, this sad fact is entirely irrelevant.

Because it doesn’t depend on them.

This is the lesson I keep coming away with, as I study this chapter. We ought to do right. Our failure to do so grieves the Lord.

But it doesn’t affect the outcome, because that’s His work, and His work is perfect.

I shouldn’t take too much comfort in this. That would tend to make me complacent (a sin to which I am prone).

But it’s a great comfort nevertheless.