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from “Fire in the Belly”: Man in the Image of God

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Throw out the pious Sunday school pictures of Jesus, the tortuous theology of the church, and one bright image and clear gospel remains. Man is spirit incarnate, at once a citizen of two kingdoms — the here and now and the there and then. As an archetype of man, Jesus exemplifies the notion that virtue and divine inspiration can never be separated because man is created in the image and of the substance of God.

The problem of manhood and the consequent tragedy of history, from the Judeo-Christian perspective, is that men misidentify themselves. They act out the drama of their lives before the audience of their contemporaries rather than before the all-knowing and merciful eye of God. They get mired in the limited perspective of their immediate desires rather than seek harmony with the will of God.

The image of Jesus on the Cross is central to the Christian notion of manhood because it dramatizes the issue of will, a recurring theme in any discussion of manhood. The days popular professional cheerleaders see seminars that teach how to develop willpower. A century ago Nietzsche was preaching the Zarathustrian gospel of “the will to power.” Before that, Socrates assured us that will automatically followed vision and that to know the good was to do it. The genius of Christianity is that it interconnects the heart, the will, and the divine spirit, and links virtue to surrender. The lesson of Gethsemane is that a man is most virile not when he insists upon his autonomous will but when he harmonizes his will with the will of God.

Discussions about manhood in Western culture cannot avoid the figure of Jesus. He is the most frequently used mirror in which generations of Western men — philosophers from Augustine to Tillich, evangelists from Paul to Billy Graham, novelists from Renan to Kazantzakis — have seen their own faces reflected. Like the ink blogs used in the psychological Rorschach test, Jesus is a historical X on which men project their own self-understanding. Every generation discovers a different Jesus — the magical savior, the wonder worker, the mystic, the political rebel, the labor organizer, the capitalist, the communist, the greatest salesman who ever lived, the proto-feminist, the ecologist. As Albert Schweitzer said, men searching for the historical Jesus look into a deep, dark well, see a reflection of themselves, and call it “Lord.”

Without debating the question of the person of Jesus or getting our feet mired in ecclesiastical matters and denominational issues, we may liberate a single insight about manhood that continues to be as revolutionary as it was two millennia ago. A man finds fulfillment (spiritual and sexual) only when he turns aside from willfulness and surrenders to something beyond self. Virility involves life in communion. When we try to discover the principle of manhood within the isolated self, we will end up not fulfilling the self but destroying it. Manhood can be defined only in relational terms. How large and generous we may become depends on the size of the Other we take into ourselves.

The question Christianity, as well as every religious tradition, puts to men and women yesterday and today is: do I find my fulfillment in asserting my will to power over myself and others, or in surrendering to myself and others in a spirit of empathy and compassion? And if I can only be myself by surrendering, to what, to whom do I surrender?” — Sam Keen, Fire in the Belly, pp 101-103

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Drugs, Motorcycles, and Jesus

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

For many years now I’ve made a distinction between those of us who did drugs back in the 60s and 70s. Those who wore the clothes, styled their hair, and got high on the weekends were “Hippies”: posers, wannabes, and trying-to-be-cool people. Those who wore the clothes, had long hair, rejected the establishment, got high hourly, and truly wanted to tune in, turn on, and drop out were “Freaks.” I was a Freak. Shocking, I know.

I’ve come to realize that the same kind of distinction can be made about motorcycle riders. There are the weekend riders who wear the leathers, go to popular biker bars, make pilgrimages to Sturgis to see the scene; these are the Hippies on Bikes. Then there are those who ride when they feel like it regardless of the day, wear leathers, go to biker bars, and are the scene that the Hippies go to gawk at once a year at Sturgis. We – for I am one of them, I think – are Freaks on Harleys.

The difference between such groups, whether drug-addled or on two wheels, is the attitude. Hippies dabble and have bumpers tickers; Freaks are totally immersed and don’t need bumper stickers.

My mind being what it is, I was compelled to apply the same distinctions to the Christian subculture here in the States. There are Christian Hippies and there are Christian Freaks. My personality requires me to be fully committed and given over to whatever I deem significant, and I am therefore a Christian Freak. Christianity is, for me, a 24/7/365 thing. Not that I’m perfect by any stretch: even in my drug days there were days and even weeks when (sadly) I wasn’t stoned, and even now I don’t always ride my Hog even though I could. But when I wasn’t stoned I was thinking about when I would be, and when I’m not riding I’m thinking about it. And when I’m not living the Christian life I’m haunted by my sin and lack of love for Christ and Christians. I’m evolving, I guess. I hope.

But this – as pretty much everything else in my experience – brings me around to the local church. Most – with a notable exception – of the churches in my experience have been and are being run by Christian Hippies, not Christian Freaks. This isn’t limited to pastors but includes elders, deacons, Sunday school teachers, and – that most insidious Christian Hippie of them all – the witch doctors in the pew that have power without position.

This state of affairs is why I don’t care much for most local churches (and by “local churches” I mean the 301.c.3 organizations that a sprinkled here, there, and everywhere in the U.S.), although I do care for the people who have been taught that Christianity is a good thing as long as you don’t, you know, “take it too seriously” – which, being translated, means to apply it to yourself and others.

So who runs your church? A Hippie or a Freak? A National-Guard-type weekend warrior or a gung-ho, hoorah, no nonsense Ranger or SEAL? And which are you? Hippie? Or Freak?

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Garland: “the spirit of the age” and man’s lust for power

Saturday, December 24, 2011

If you haven’t read David E. Garland’s 1 Corinthians in the Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament, you’ve missed out on the best modern work on the epistle. It surpasses, in my opinion, Fee’s effort in the NICNT series (Garland takes Fee to task a bit over the latter’s treatment – or lack thereof – of 14.34-35 (p 675)), that of Barrett, and many others.

The following is taken from his introduction to the letter of Paul in his treatment of social relations in the city of Corinth. I would suggest that you focus on the things that might be an issue for you rather than what you hope others will pay attention to. For example, since I prize information and education, I need to consider what is said about knowledge and wisdom instead of thinking how some people need to listen to what is said about spiritual gifts.

The ‘spirit of the world’ (2.12) is synonymous with the ‘wisdom of the world’ (1.20, 3.19; cf ‘wisdom of this age,’ 2.6), and Pickett (1997:63) contends, ‘The latter phrase demystifies the former in that it shows that to be under the influence of the ‘spirit of the world’ is to be guided by the values which constitute its wisdom.’ It makes clear that the conflict pits God and God’s ways, exhibited in the weakness of the cross, against the world and its ways, exhibited by its fascination with displays of status and power. Pickett (1997:64) continues, ‘Thus the world which stands in opposition to God is a real social world, and the “spirit of the world” refers, in some sense at least, to the values which govern the attitudes, judgments and behaviour of the people in that world.’

“It is the baneful influence of this secular wisdom on members in the church rather than some overarching theological misconception that lies behind most of the problems that Paul addresses in the letter . . . It – not some imagined theological dispute swirling around Peter, Apollos, Paul, or the elusive Christ party – sparked off the rivalries ripping apart the fellowship. It is behind the Corinthians’ attraction to flashy displays of knowledge, wisdom, and spiritual gifts. It throws light on why someone pursued a lawsuit against a brother Christian (6.1-11), why some sought to justify eating food sacrificed to idols so that they could participate fully in their society (8.1-11.1), why the issue of headdress during worship became a problem (11.2-16), and why some wished to vaunt their spiritual gifts above others (12.1-14.40) . . .

“Paul cannot deny [the Corinthians'] spiritual experiences (2.4), nor does he want to denigrate them. But he will not address them as spiritual ones: they instead are fleshly (3.1), too much caught up in this world and its values . . .

“The Corinthians’ problems are more attributable to a lack of a clear eschatological vision of the defeat of the powers of this age and the final judgment of God looming on the horizon. They did not view this world as decisively evil and consequently were ready to make compromises with it.

“For Paul, the spiritual life of the church is not to be found in the visible things alone – healings, glossolalia, eloquent preaching . . . The most central work of the Spirit is something that is unexpected. It leads believers to the crucified Christ (2.2) and to the glory that awaits the end of the age (2.9-10) . . . The key result of the Spirit is communication about God and Christ that others can understand and that builds up the community of faith (14.1-5)” – Garland, pp 7, 14, 16

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“having predestined us to adoption”

Friday, December 23, 2011

While reading through Hoehner’s commentary on Ephesians, I was reminded again and awed anew at the amazing truth of every believer’s adoption as a son (or daughter) by God the Father. Hoehner notes that “when people are the objects of predestination, there are two accusatives. God has predestined us to something. Cremer notes that the primary interest is not the who but to what is one predestined” (p 193, emphases his).

An important determination to be made, Hoehner continues, regarding the type of adoption Paul has in mind. There are three alternatives: Jewish, Greek, or Roman adoption. But there was no law governing adoption for the Jews and nowhere in the Old Testament are the Jews spoken of as having been adopted.

The Greeks did have laws governing adoption but, by the time of the writing of Ephesians, the Romans were in control of Greece. It is difficult to imagine that Paul would refer to a custom that no longer had jurisdiction.

The most reasonable conclusion is that Paul was thinking of the Roman law governing the practice of adoption. He was himself a Roman citizen and the Ephesians were under Roman law. To understand Paul’s meaning of adoption of believers by God, Hoehner explains, it is necessary to have some familiarity with the nature of Roman adoption. He writes:

“The father had absolute power (patria potestas) over the members of his family so that he could even take the life of a member of his family and that act would not be considered murder . . . With regard to property, he had full legal ownership of everything the family had and could dispose of it as he willed. On the other hand, in the Greek family the father did not have absolute power over his family nor was he the legal owner of all the family’s property.

“Under Roman law the procedure of adoption had two steps. In the first step, the son had to be released from the control of his natural father. This was done by a procedure whereby the father sold him as a slave three times to the adopter. The adopter would release him two times and he would automatically again come under his father’s control. With the third sale, the adoptee was freed from his natural father.

“Regarding the second step, since the natural father no longer had any authority over him, the adopter became the new father with absolute control over him, and he retained this control until the adoptee died or the adopter freed him. The son was not responsible to his natural father but only to his newly acquired father . . .

“The saints chosen by God are predestined as adopted sons (and daughters) of God. This means that believers, formerly labeled as ‘sons of disobedience’ and ‘children of wrath’ (Eph 2.2-3), have absolutely no responsibility and/or obligation to their old father the devil (cf Jn 8.38, 44), the ruler of the realm of the air (Eph 2.2). Rather, they are now God’s sons and daughters and he controls their lives and property . . . Although believers are adopted into God’s family, its full realization for the believers will be enjoyed at the time of their resurrection (Rom 8.23) when their old father the devil will no longer tempt them to return to him” (pp 196-7).

Such is the nature of our adoption as sons. Although we are tempted by Satan to put ourselves back under his rule, he no longer has any claim on us: we belong to God. It was through Jesus Christ that the Father adopted us for Himself. This was accomplished “according to the good pleasure of his will,” i.e., the will of the Father. Hoehner quotes Barth’s summary: “Not a grim Lord watching over the execution of his predetermined plan, but a smiling Father is praised. He enjoys imparting his riches to many children.”

“Is it any wonder,” Hoehner concludes, “that God is to be praised!”

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Is it time to out the Emperor? (Revised)

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

(I am an unapologetic dispensationalist. But – and anyone who knows me will not be surprised – I am not a typical dispensationalist: I don’t own any charts, I’m terribly ignorant (for a dispensationalist) of prophecy, and I don’t attend a Bible church (where dispensationalists, pseudo-dispensationalists, and dispensational wannabes are known to gather and do the kinds of things dispensationalists do when then get together). I think of dispensationalism more as a hermeneutic than a system of theology, although the latter does exist and seems to multiply randomly and recklessly. Nevertheless, what follows is an elaboration or interpretation of a dispensational application of theology. I think it’s original but, certainly, I am as capable of stealing ideas as the next believer.)

___________

Regardless of the number of dispensations one identifies, there are several principles or beliefs that dispensationalists hold in common. It must first be stated, however, that dispensationalism in all its authentic forms teaches but one way of salvation: faith in God based on the revelation given at any point in time. It is always by grace through faith, in other words, but sometimes it is faith in the promises of God (see Abraham or Noah) or faith in God’s sufficient provision (Adam and Eve); regardless of the focus or content of saving faith, God is able to be just and the justifier of believers due to the work of Jesus Christ in His death, burial, and resurrection.

One common theme for dispensationalism is the stewardship that different people are entrusted with at different points in history. For Adam, it was to multiply, fill the earth, subdue it, and rule over it; the litmus test of his obedience was to not eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. For Abraham, Issac, and Jacob, it was to facilitate the creation of God’s people and to maintain their distinction from the pagan cultures around them by obedience and separation. For Christians, it is to have faith in Jesus Christ for salvation and to make disciples of all nations.

Another theme, however, is that regardless of the stewardship given, all of God’s chosen people eventually fail. Adam, Abraham, government, and the nation of Israel (during the Old Testament) were unable to fulfill the trust placed in them. In all these times there were those who believed and were faithful (a remnant) but group as a whole failed in its stewardship.

A third theme, which follows on the heels of the preceding one, is that judgment falls as a result of the aforementioned failure. Because God is gracious and merciful, He waits patiently on generation after generation – but judgment is certain, nonetheless.

Very briefly, here is a list of seven dispensations that shows the responsibility each had, the failure in that stewardship, and the judgment that followed. This particular one is adapted from Ryrie:

    Innocence – don’t eat from the knowledge tree – eating – Death (physical and spiritual)

    Conscience – do the right thing – doing the wrong thing – Flood

    Government – obey civil authorities – wickedness – Confusion of Languages

    Promise – believe in the promise and obey – disobedience – Egyptian Bondage

    Law – be a kingdom of priests and keep the Law – idolatry – Captivity (Assyria and Babylon)

    Grace – believe in Jesus Christ and make disciples – failure – death/loss of rewards

    Millennium – believe and obey Christ’s theocratic rule – rebellion – Great White Throne

Two things are striking about the above list. First, the failure of the Church Age (Grace) seems to be treated a bit lightly when compared to the other judgments; second, it leaves out one of dispensationalism’s favorite periods of history: the Tribulation. The reason for this seven-year judgment of a literal hell on earth is laid at the feet of unbelievers who have refused to listen to us as we have so faithful shared the gospel with them.

With the institution of the New Covenant, God shifted His modus operandi from establishing His kingdom through the Nation of Israel to working through Gentiles, i.e., all non-Israelites. This does not mean that ethnic Israel cannot be saved on an individual basis during this age – even as some Gentiles were during the previous time – but only that the kingdom of priests will now be characterized by Gentiles rather than Israelis.

The failure of the Gentiles is well-known in dispensational churches; what isn’t talked about – at least in polite dispensational circles – is that the failure of the Gentiles will likely result in the participation of the Church (all those who have trusted in Christ and are living at the time of His second coming) during the Tribulation will be a judgment upon them and, quite possibly, the Church . It probably isn’t talked about because nobody teaches it: another comforting belief of dispensationalism is the Rapture of the Church just before hell breaks loose on the planet. (This “pre-tribulational” Rapture is based upon little evidence and what looks to be a lot of eisegesis.

If the record of the saints in the Old Testament is any indication, the Church will be preserved through it but will go through it, nevertheless. Joseph (Gen 50.24-25) was a true believer but he never saw the Promised Land due to the failure of Abraham’s tribe; so, too, with Jeremiah (who escaped to Egypt when the Babylonians took Judah captive, Noah went through the judgment of his day, Adam suffered Death and the loss of the Garden, Israel failed as a kingdom of priests and went into a kind of exile after the destruction of the Temple, and those who will live during the Millennium will likewise be judged at the end of time.

If the above is true, i.e., that the failure of the Church to make disciples of all the nations is indicative of the failure of the Gentiles in general, then the next question to be asked and considered is how the Church is doing today. Has it failed in its mandate to make disciples of all nations? Is it in the process of failing? If so, what are the faithful to do during such times?

NEXT: I get to criticize critique the Church.

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Fulfilling a Promise: 1 Timothy

Monday, December 19, 2011

(A year or two ago I began teaching through the Bible using Waltke’s An Old Testament Theology and Thielman’s Theology of the New Testament as my basic texts. The forum was a men’s Bible study I no longer attend (for reasons unrelated to the group) but, at the time of my departure, I was not yet finished with the New Testament. Hopefully a series of posts will follow this one as I attempt to keep the promise I made to the men of the group.)

NOTE: Unattributed, nonbiblical quotes are from Thielman; Scripture, unless otherwise noted, is from the NET Bible.

Background and Purpose of 1 Timothy and Titus

Although no one knows for sure, it is probable that Paul wrote this letter to Timothy while the apostle was in Macedonia, the territory due north from Greece. After being released from a Roman prison following a two-year stay, he traveled with both Titus and Timothy to the island of Crete, where they established several churches but saw an unhealthy version of Christianity quickly take root among the Jewish converts. Paul left Titus on Crete to facilitate the development of leaders and to teach the believers more fully about their faith.

Traveling on to Ephesus with Timothy, Paul found the church there in such confusion that “shipwreck” was a term that would come to his mind when he described it. He left Timothy in Ephesus to help turn that church around while he journeyed (perhaps) to Colosse and then further north to Macedonia. While there, he wrote the letter we now call 1 Timothy.

Paul’s primary purpose in writing the letter is to give Timothy a mandate to counter the false teaching that was infecting the church at Ephesus, a heresy that resulted in a weakened witness and testimony to the unbelievers in the city.

The full or exact nature of the false teaching in Ephesus (and Crete) is hard to pinpoint. Instead of engaging it apologetically, Paul instructs Timothy not to get caught up in it: it consists of “empty discussions,” “myths fit only for the godless and gullible,” and “profane chatter and absurdities of so-called ‘knowledge.’”

What can be known about the teaching is, first, that it pertained to the Mosaic law: the heretics, Paul explains, “want to be teachers of the law, but they do not understand what they are saying.” Second, it included teachings that do not fit within Judaism: prohibiting marriage and claiming that the resurrection had already occurred. The comparison of the teachers to Jannes and Jambres – who were held to be the two magicians that Moses encountered in Pharaoh’s court – raise the likelihood that magic was employed by the false teachers. In his second letter to Timothy, Paul will warn him that “evil people and charlatans will go from bad to worse,” a possible illusion to sorcery.

The false teaching has started to spread like gangrene (2 Tim 2.17), and its success has apparently arisen from the clever efforts of its teachers to target Christian households where the male head of the household is either absent or derelict in his familial duties (p 411).

If Paul is somewhat unclear on the content of the false teaching, he is not lacking when it comes to identifying the motives of these heretics: the “love of money,” “their own desires,” “warped minds,” and “consciences” that “are seared.” The results are divisions in the church and a “shipwrecked” faith for those they successfully persuade.

The remedy, Paul tells Timothy, involves three crucial things: right doctrine, proper conduct, and good leadership in the church. (Continued)

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My testimony as age 62 approaches

Thursday, December 15, 2011


    Well, the hair’s a bit off but otherwise it’s a flattering thought, eh?

Christian Life:

    I have been a Christian since December 10, 1974. I don’t think there’s been any significant period of time that I’ve been “carnal,” although I’m sure it happens more than I’m aware. Either that or I’ve never been in fellowship.

Family:

    I am married (on 4.5.1980) and have two daughters, Amanda (b. 1982) and Madeline (b. 1988). I was 30 when I married; Cathy was almost 28: it was the first – and last – for both of us.

    Education:

    D.Min., Trinity Theological Seminary, Christian Education and Discipleship;

    M.A., Denver Seminary, Counseling;

    B.S., Indiana State University, Speech Communication.

Church Affiliation:

    I am an unrestricted free agent.

Theological Orientation:

    Just like the cover says, the Bible is holy, i.e., is not profane in any way;
    Dispensational, with a de-emphasis on eschatology;
    Modified Calvinist: Total Depravity, Unconditional Election, Definite Atonement (limited in application, not applicability), Irresistible Grace, Preservation (not perseverance) of the Saints;
    Kinda Post-Evangelical;
    Five Solas;
    The church is edifying when gathered, evangelizing when scattered;
    Pretrib, premil – not that it matters, since God’s going to do what He has in mind and won’t ask for my opinion: the point of prophecy is to promote holiness, not produce books or controversies.

Email:

    drrussell.lpc@gmail.com

Testimony

(One thing that bothers me about some testimonies is that the depth of sin a person falls into sometimes get too much attention. Far too much: I think some people actually enjoy the vicarious experience of sin as they listen to the drug abuse, sexual promiscuity, perversions, and such. I could provide a lot of that, but I won’t. Believe me, it’s not pretty and it’s nothing to be proud of. And it leaves scars. Hopefully, this testimony glorifies God, not me or sin.)

NOTE: Please read my Aug 19, 2005, post Losing My Way (below) for an update, and The Life of a Dúnadan (also below) for more stuff about me.

It wasn’t my idea to become a Christian; in fact, I came into the kingdom kind of kicking and screaming.

My problems began before I was born. My codependent mother and alcoholic/borderline father had a couple of children before me – two girls. My misogynous father told my mother that, if the next child was not a boy, he was leaving her. In retrospect, I don’t think he was kidding.

My father had been a good athlete when younger. He was a Golden Gloves boxer and also on a course that might have landed him in major league baseball one day. Then a little thing called World War Two came along, he caught shrapnel in his left leg, and the dream turned into a nightmare.

So my father wanted a son and, after two “misfires,” I came along. But there was one problem: I was born crippled. Bilateral club feet, which means that my feet were curled up so that the bottom of my feet were up and the outsides were down.

My parents didn’t have much money – neither had finished high school because of the Great Depression – and there probably wasn’t any corrective surgery for my condition anyway. So I spent the first year of my life in and out of casts from the tips of my toes to my hips, having them changed every month or so. All my father saw was a son that, according to the doctors, would have trouble walking; running and sports were out of the question. So my father took no interest in me and crawled inside a bottle for the next seven or eight years.

I didn’t grow up in a Christian home and didn’t spend much time in church. I do recall going to church once in a while, but I don’t remember anything that stuck with me. When my older sister was baptized (I was probably around eight or nine years old), I remember being confused and wondering why she was wearing a white sheet and why they were dunking her in the water. I didn’t like it much and nobody told me what was going on.

When I say that mine was a dysfunctional home, I mean that in a clinical sense. Most families fall into the mid-range coping style, with some actually achieving health. Health means that there is intimacy and individuality; mid-range is some of each; dysfunctional families are screwed up in one or both areas to the point that it causes problems for family members. Communication is troubled and boundaries are blurred. Bad stuff happens. Thankfully, I had a loving mother, albeit a bit intrusive at times.

Without much of a father to raise me (he was present in my life but not a presence in my life), I was left to figure out a lot on my own. And I did, indeed, figure out a lot but – not surprisingly – most of what I figured out was wrong. Like most kids, I was a great observer and a lousy interpreter.

Since I was just a kid, I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to be able to run and play like the other kids. So I began to run and play. It soon became obvious that I was a pretty good athlete. Actually, I was a very good athlete at just about anything I took up. Baseball, football, basketball, tennis, skiing, swimming, boxing, wrestling – everything but long-distance running. I could have done that, too, but I never understood why I should run for a long time just to wind up where I began. I mean, if I’m in such a hurry to get where I already am, why leave?

Of course, my athleticism caused my father to suddenly notice me and lay claim to my life. He was determined that I would be the star that he had always wanted to be. He shut down all my sports except baseball because that was what he played. So I did the all-star and all-conference stuff until . . . I noticed girls. Suddenly sports wasn’t the greatest thing in the world.

My father disapproved of this and showed his disapproval with the back of his hand and an occasional fist in my face. At the age of eleven, I had promised an uncle that I would never hit my father; at the time, it was a no-brainer: I was 5-6 and maybe 115 pounds and my father was 6-1 and 210. Sure, I’ll restrain myself. Even when I got bigger, though, I kept my promise.

So my father retreated back into his bottle and I discovered the opposite sex. I was looking for love, as Johnny Paycheck sang, in all the wrong places.

School was always easy for me and I got a lot of attention – not always for the best of reasons. I got a double-promotion in elementary school, which seemed swell at the time but not-so swell later: I was a year younger than everyone else and didn’t get my drivers license until the last semester of my junior year of high school. I finished my first semester of college while still 17. Academically, I was fine; socially, I was light years behind.

Without a sense of direction and virtually no guidance, I went to college without any idea of what I wanted to do if and when I graduated. I tried majoring in history, then English, then speech. Finally, I found something I enjoyed: flunking out. I’d go to class once or twice a semester before giving up and playing cards or shooting pool. I was too busy to officially withdraw so I piled up a lot of 0.00 credits.

But I didn’t care. I had landed a part-time job as a sports reporter at the local newspaper and began picking up more hours. I started by doing obits, then going through vital stats at the county courthouse, and finally worked my way to police beat. I saw a lot of bad things: rapes, robberies, murders, autopsies, traffic fatalities. A lot of dead people. Some young children, some old ladies. Trains crushing cars. Shotguns at point-blank range. People burned to death in fires. It does something to you.

The Vietnam War was going on at the time and some of my friends were going to the other side of the world to kill and/or be killed. I was 19, out of school, and without a deferment when the draft was instituted. My lottery number was 16. But the military didn’t take cripples, so I stayed home while my friends went away. Some never came back, and some that did come back came back different. I felt guilty.

As usual, I tried to medicate my emotions through relationships. Overall I had two long-term girlfriends (three and four years, respectively) and was OK as long as I had them. But after the breakup of the second, I was inconsolable. I was barely 21, out of school, and working part-time still at the newspaper. A former semi-pro football player named Doug took me under his wing and introduced me to marijuana. It was the beginning of a love affair that lasted for the next five-plus years of my life. I was stoned all day, every day from that point on. My primary relationship and the love of my life came in one-ounce bags. I quit the newspaper and began driving heavy equipment for the city – stoned the whole time, of course. I spent my nights in bars playing pool and picking up the occasional girl who wanted to get high.

I had a lot of friends, but still no girlfriend. I was 24 years old and going nowhere: I was back at the newspaper and doing well there – I won a state Associated Press award – but still hadn’t found anything worth living for. Marijuana, I knew, was just a way to pass time. As lost and purposeless as I had ever been, I did what everyone back then did who didn’t have anything else to do: I went back to college.

It was different this time. I knew I needed a degree if I was ever going to get out of the rut I was in, so I applied myself. I had re-entered college with a sterling 1.12 GPA (all those 0.00s caught up with me) and about 75 credit hours; when I finished, I had pulled it up to a two-point-something-or-other.

In one of my first classes back in school, while still doing the drugs-sex-and-rock ‘n’ roll thing, I met a strikingly attractive young lady named Karen. She was the second-ranked student in the class (behind me) and liked me. But she wouldn’t date me. I was baffled; she was a Christian. Hmmm: a worthy challenge.

We studied together, had coffee together, talked on the phone a lot. But no dates: she wouldn’t date non-Christians, she said.

She explained the gospel to me. Since she was in Campus Crusade for Christ, she used the Four Spiritual Laws. I had been around long enough to know the first three laws – God loves me, I’m sinful, Jesus died for my sins – but the fourth law was new. I had personal responsibility to make a decision about whether I’d accept the offer or not.

Well, I was a happy agnostic at that point. I was making good money, had my own car, lived alone in a cabin in the woods 20 miles outside of town, had a lot of friends, and enough girls that found me sufficiently attractive for at least one night. Jesus didn’t sound too necessary at the time.

Once, in October of 1974, I actually asked Jesus into my heart. My prayer was something like this:

God, I don’t know if you’re [I didn't capitalize Him back then] really there or not, but I’m going to open the door to my heart that you’re supposedly knocking on. So I’m going to open it but, just in case you are there, know that I don’t want you to come in! Amen.”

Nothing happened and I announced to Karen that it didn’t work so I was right and she was wrong. She asked me what had happened and I, like a fool, told her the truth. She told me it didn’t count.

For the next two months I was hounded by the Holy Spirit. Christians were everywhere saying horrible things to me like, “I’m praying for you!” Talk about pushy. Karen kept talking to me and I kept trying to break her resolve. And morals.

God, however, got tired of the game and brought it to a swift resolution. He hit me in my one tender, vulnerable spot – relationships – and I broke. Even some of my drug friends told me I needed to get serious. So I prayed again. I was serious and so was God. That was Tuesday, December 10, 1974, at a little after 8 p.m. I was on the phone with Karen when I prayed. I was persuaded. I was saved. I was almost 25.

The class in which Karen and I met? Speech 302: Persuasion. Ironic. God has a dry sense of humor.

God immediately took away my desires for drugs, alcohol, and sex. (Well, OK, not the desire but the participation therein.) I moved out of my drug-filled cabin in the woods, turned away from all my stoned friends, and began to read the Bible. (I was so ignorant that the first Bible I bought was a Catholic Bible. It was fatter than the others and cheaper. Looked like a steal to me. I didn’t know there was a difference.)

I developed a ravenous appetite for the Bible. I would read for hours and hours, then go to Bible studies, listen to sermons on tape, and do my own Bible studies. I bought books. A lot of books. I read and read. I had a lot of catching up to do.

The first five years of my new life were spent in the Bible and in legalism. I quickly became self-righteous, dogmatic, and judgmental. Karen didn’t want anything to do with me. “I liked you better before,” she told me one day. I was confused but undaunted. And I was still single.

I got married when I was 30; my bride was almost 28. It was the first for both of us, and we married determined never to divorce.

(Good thing we are both bull-headed and take vows seriously: if not for the commitment to God, we wouldn’t be coming up on our 32nd anniversary [4.5.12]. We had/have two wonderful daughters, the first, who now lives in Taiwan, and the second, who lives in Irving, TX. They are both believers. My firstborn inherited my club feet.)

I continued in my fundamentalist attitude during the early years of my marriage, making life absolutely miserable for my wife. After three years, I packed up the family (only one daughter then) and we moved to Colorado to go to seminary. And to ski.

Seminary changed my life. Not because of what I learned, but because of the relationships and friendships I forged with a handful of my professors while there: Drs. James Beck, Bruce Demarest, Tim Weber, and Vernon Grounds. I studied them more than I studied my coursework. They are godly men. I wanted to be more like them.

More than anyone else, Dr. Demarest broke my fundamentalism. He ripped my theological and exegetical papers apart, shredded my dogmatism like tissue paper, and slaughtered sacred cows with ease. He taught me to hold my convictions firmly but gently, and to respect the theologies of others since – as he demonstrated – theirs could be understood biblically, too. More than anything, he showed me what humility was. He would humbly answer hyper-critical Bible college grads who would read him the riot act for trashing their theology. He never raised his voice or got angry, but I planned to beat them up after class. For some reason, I didn’t.

After graduation and a couple of years of underemployment, we moved to Texas and I began my counseling practice. I went on to earn a D.Min. from Trinity Theological Seminary in Indiana (my home state), concentrating on Christian Education and Discipleship. I am committed to both.

God continued and continues to grow me, frequently using my confrontational, take-no-prisoners wife to do so. Any other wife would not have been able to get through to me. She did and I love her deeply for putting up with me. She deserved better. She’ll be the one with all the gold, silver, and precious stones in heaven. I’ll be next to the bonfire.

C.S. Lewis said something to the effect that you don’t know how far a person has come unless you know where they started. I’ve got a good ways to go, but Christ has brought me further than I could ever have hoped for or imagined. My life is a miracle, inexplicable according to human dynamics.

One of the highest compliments I ever got was a back-handed one. One day a couple of decades or so ago I was telling a good friend, Rob, about my history and about my father in particular. He said to me in disbelief, “It’s amazing that you’re as healthy as you are!”

And he was exactly right.

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