I watched a feature story and listened to a gentleman explain his approach to religion that helped me estimate my own feelings.
The man, a Christian, led an interfaith forum that encouraged dialogue between religions. He highlighted that if people attended the meetings only to brand others as infidels and to banish them to hell, they usually found little meaning in the gatherings. On the other hand, people firmly rooted in their beliefs and sure that their religion was indeed the way but who were also willing to open themselves to discussion—those people greatly benefitted from the meetings.
The gentleman went on to say what brought together two years of intense seminary study for me: to claim that your faith is right is not bigoted fundamentalism, as liberalist and anti-religionists would suggest or goad us toward relativism. It only demonstrates the acceptance of revelation, and many religions are grounded in revelation.
Simply put, we’re supposed to believe “hard,” or fervently. Yet when it comes to coexisting and plainly having to do with one another, we must be willing to meet at the roundtable to communicate and agree to set aside our bibles and other holy texts to simply hear one another. We will discover that our spiritual needs are the same and notice better the rich human diversity in which we partake.
To hear this was like emerging from a slick of religious sludge.
Why can’t we talk? It may happen that a person converts through the communication process, although this isn’t the goal. But arguments accomplish nothing, except the disrespect of religion.
I believe God: To proclaim this requires trust in a sovereign God who has his purposes with our successes and our failures. Too often our belief is merely our focus on the resolution of problems we require God to solve, when God is attempting to place our focus on him as the priority while we are in our situations.
If in our trials we received all that we asked of God—every quick deliverance and comfort—we might be hard-pressed to differentiate faith in God and magical charm. Obviously, believers are not exempt from life’s tough times; things will not always go our way. But real faith focuses one on God’s character and his purpose and not mere solutions by him. It demands trust in a God who understands our cares better than we do and who possesses the power to use even our trepidation in his plan to make us better people for him.
So when we say that we have faith, we must do so searchingly to ascertain whether we’re truly relying on God or relying on an outcome. Will God come through for us? Indeed he will. Every time? Absolutely. But when how we may need him isn’t apparent or quickly resolved, we must also believe that his help to us is deeper and more extensive than we can presently see. God is providential, thus always at work in the lives of his people bringing about his purposes and for his own glory. Let us also not forget his affection: He is for us.
Our situations have never surprised God and do not hinder his plans. But he wants our confidence resting in his unfailing character regardless of the crisis. Otherwise, our problems become magnified and he is diminished.
I stood in line in an office store behind three people in lively conversation. It was obvious from their speech that they were Christians and, upon listening closer, one of the two men there was a new Christian. I heard the woman convincingly tell this gentleman, “That’s the Lord’s way of keeping you saved.” What that meant I didn’t have a clue, but I was now interested to know. It became apparent that this man was trying to quit smoking. Then, the other man there, evidently a veteran Christian, advised his friend, amidst much that he said, “Well I always tell folk to smoke, drink, cuss…till you stop. You’ll get tired of it.”
The scenario was not unlike another a friend of mine related to me. He had a friend earlier in his life that was a philanderer. This young man had sought spiritual help during a church service when at some point an old church mother said to the gentleman, “Oh, you’re just being a man, baby.” May God have mercy upon these men and all like them just beginning the Christian life and even greater mercy upon the sincere ones who counsel them with error!
Let me offer some scriptural context for what I am about to say. It would be proper to claim that the holiness of God and his righteous standards are in judgment against all ungodliness. And to the extent that we side with righteousness, we judge indeed (1 Cor. 2:15). As Christians, however, we do not judge other people in a way that presumes our own innocence of sin or immunity from their sort of sin. This is Christ’s injunction in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 7:1-6).
The good that I find in these two accounts is persons who have clearly perceived an antagonizing trait working negatively in their lives and, to some degree, impeding their full fellowship with God. Their humility makes them ready to receive the grace of God for strength to overcome their struggle. But the great misfortune for souls like these is to become enjoined to well-meaning Christians and their counsel that is not only unscriptural, but is also simply not thought out.
What could these two young men possibly hear in the advice that was given to them? Perhaps, “Continue to have all the uncommitted sex you want. You’re a man and men are highly sexed creatures. You’re only doing what is natural to you and for your body. God doesn’t condemn you yet, baby.” And perhaps, “Smoking is a vice you must rid yourself of. But you’re a new Christian, so it’s understandable that it might not be so easy at first. Don’t worry too much about it. When the time comes you’ll get tired of it, and it’ll stop.”
I consider this advice godless and (unintentionally) deceptive. It is godless because it does not rely on the spiritual grace God provides to overcome sin and so effectually undermines the work of Christ. “You’re only doing what’s natural to you”—yet if it’s natural I should continue with it, but why am I conflicted and in turmoil about it? “When the time comes…”—you mean I can’t expect God’s active help in quitting this habit, but it will rid itself sometime in my future? What if that’s ten years down the road? The men would be justified responding this way.
Moreover, the advice is deceptive because the New Testament scriptures constantly explain the flesh, the lower, carnal nature and strong coercion in humans in constant battle against the Spirit of God, something the advisors surely understood. The reason why these men were calling on God is because they had become enslaved to their deeds; after a while people grow to hate the addictions that enslave them.
Now consider the ones who frolic in sin and enjoy it and haven’t yet discovered sin to be a hard taskmaster. How would they respond to this advice? “Cool! I can be a Christian and continue to score with every girl I want. God wouldn’t give me my sexual nature just to condemn me for it. It’s a wild buck right now, so I’m going to enjoy the ride while I can.” He will say, “Whew! I really didn’t want to give up my cigs. Quitting would be hell itself. Really, what does it hurt?” (And this indubitably raises the question about whether smoking is a sin or not, but this is not the topic. It is a sin for this man because his conscience tells him so, 1 Cor. 8:4-13.)
The advice given to this kind would send them back into a possibly worse form of their wrongdoing. And how do we defend these admonitions when the conduct becomes strong vice, broadly defined as inordinate sex, substance abuse, or no respect for life?
I need not go on. These two men were on a path to freedom (and hopefully still are) until meeting up with damnably bad advice. What God requires of us in our struggles is that we are always swimming against the current of sin, as tough as it may be. Where sin may be at work in our lives, he requires our utmost efforts to rid ourselves of it as we rely on his strong, supporting grace.
“Work out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure.” (Ph. 2:12-13)
I hated running in gym. It was needless sweating and getting oneself worked up, just to return to class sticky and ready for a nap instead of a test. I enjoyed running at home, of course, while playing outdoors and in the neighborhood with my brother and friends. That was different. Still, moving fast on legs was never my cup of tea.
In college I recall asking my buddy Dan, a track team member, why he enjoyed running…what purpose did it serve. He explained that it was all about competing against one’s own resolve. In the face of what could be every physical discomfort, you must will yourself to keep running until you’ve crossed the finish line. I’ve never forgotten his response, but my opinion about the discipline didn’t budge.
That is, until April of ’98.
Many people challenge me when I recount this story, but it is entirely true. It was less than a month to the end of my freshman year. This particular day I wasn’t feeling well, but I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I wasn’t coughing, sneezing, aching—nothing. I simply had no explanation for why I felt so bad. So, my roommate away, I decided that I would leave the dorm and go to the gym…so that if I fell ill or died someone would be around to aid me. I really thought I was ‘goin’ up yonder!’
Deciding on what exercise to begin, I looked over at the treadmills. I still don’t why, especially for a person who loathed running. I had never been on one, so I decided to give it a try. It couldn’t hurt since I was already in the throes of death. But when I got off that treadmill, I had run six miles! I had left the funk that was on me somewhere in the dust and still felt like running another mile or two.
It was a revolution for me. That summer I logged 25 to 30 miles each week, and I was 20 pounds lighter at the start of the next semester. Moreover, I had found a new exercise and health habit. But I’d be misleading you by implying it was all a breeze. Dan was spot-on in his assessment. Let me explain what I learned that summer.
Pressing On
What is amazing to me—and any athlete will know this—is how attune one becomes to his or her body while performing and how conditions and preconditions weigh upon that performance. I learned, by trial and error, that everything mattered to my body’s performance of the day’s 3-5-mile jog. For instance, the previous day’s dinner impacted the morning’s run: meat felt bad but spaghetti felt great. Proper sleep was a must; but then I had to be obedient to the alarm clock and get up. The right clothing was important for comfort sake because it’s no fun being agitated when fighting your body to press on. There were obstacles, like inclement weather, closed-off facilities, and schedule changes, which had to be managed.
I had to learn how to breathe correctly—and breathe what sometimes felt like liquid air in the humid Midwest. I loved the treadmill and indoor track. But the outdoor track was psychologically dreadful to me, especially when rounding the stadium and realizing how far I had left to run. Also, outdoors there were hills, wide curves, uneven track, and constant wind resistance. At times I had horrible shin splints. And when that “wall” came, there was no other definition of the Devil and the minions of Hell! It came every time and could sometimes send my mind spinning out of control for want of ending the anguish I experienced. But if I kept running it would go away. And the longer I kept at running, the longer it took to reach the wall; and it was also easier to get through it.
Soon, I lived to run and I watched my body morph. My aerobic capacity expanded. My metabolism revved to life. I traded body fat for leanness and gained strength. My body became agile and my mind sharpened. And I cannot forget a particular day I was nearly bouncing off the walls with energy and had to get out of my room and do something physical. What physicians and nutritionist tell us about exercise and healthy eating is very true.
But I also learned that there was no way for me to enjoy my new results without also having to cope with the extreme exertion and resistance that helped to create them. It’s no different for the person who wants large muscles or championship rings or thriving businesses. Hardship can always be expected, no matter the endeavor, yet hardship tempers us and the process eventually gets easier.
The Will and Desire
The apostle Paul instructed the Philippians to do everything they possibly could to prove the work of salvation in their lives and the maturity of their faith (Ph. 2:12). This is the will of God for each of us: to honor him with our lives and produce good works, beside anything more he may desire of us. So many people struggle with knowing the will of God for their lives, but Paul settles the matter. The will of God is whatever is good and pleasing to God. We should be doing that.
I have no problem with those who believe God has given them a special task or calling. But many people get sidetracked by this when they haven’t heard God speak anything special to them. Just please God. We should follow the good in our hearts and do what is before us. This is the will of God, and Paul suggests that we prove our faith with it.
But why we act this way is the truly glorious part. The Amplified Version has a marvelous rendering of verse 13: “[Not in your own strength] for it is God Who is all the while effectually at work in you [energizing and creating in you the power and desire], both to will and to work for His good pleasure and satisfaction and delight.” Behind all we can do to bring honor to God through our lives, by discerning his will and doing it, is God himself fueling the fire with his energy to produce those good works. He gives us both the work and the desire for it.
Just as it was with me learning to enjoy running, so it is with us running this spiritual race. A good desire burns on the inside of us. I desired to be healthier and fitter; God desires the same for us spiritually. But we must run and keep running despite fierce resistance that comes from every direction. Satan constantly devises ways to trip us up and attacks us. Worldly influence presses against us like a fierce headwind. And our own flesh and sin issues beat on our minds to end the needless agony and quit.
But God says to us, “Don’t stop for anything!” The longer we run, the easier running becomes. My friend, resistance will always be present in the race, but you will change in the process. God put the very desire to run the race inside of you; and there is promise in obedience to the task, both now and later.
God wants us to know that the race gets easier and is very rewarding. Since he gives us the desire to do his will, no resistance can frustrate that desire unless we stop running and give up its control. Don’t allow the Evil One, the world, or your own flesh to thwart the fire of desire God has placed inside of you. God knows—Satan knows!—that the will of God for you will be done if you stay the course.
Two Cautions
There are two important things to note here. First, don’t allow the voice of Satan in others or in your own mind to belittle or dissuade you of your interests or good deeds. People don’t always see how God is working in our lives for his glory. In fact, we may not understand it; and it may be years before anything special becomes of talents we nurtured. But the reason we put so much effort in them is because God ordained them in our lives and his Spirit motivates us to sharpen the skill.
Second, it is important to consider the possibility of not doing the will of God. There were times out on the track that I did stop, times when I gave in to the physical overload and mental screaming. Sometimes we live as though God will simply make everything work out well. But that is not true where he gives us a responsibility to labor. We can fail at the will of God. Paul asked the Galatians, “You were running well; who hindered you from obeying the truth?” (5:7). Failing would be a disappointment when God has given us every advantage. God wishes for us to see that his empowerment is everything we need to achieve his will.
There may be some hard places in your life right now, but consider them part of a process that is making you well-conditioned in God’s purpose. Resistance is a constant and it won’t change, but you will and you are changing. Things don’t break your spirit the way they used to. You’re stronger in the Word. You’ve witnessed God answer prayer. Now you’re gaining your second wind and your steps are firmer. It takes a while to break a sweat now.
Keep running because God is in the process. He’s not destroying you; he’s blessing you. The finish line is somewhere in the distance, but the reward comes long before in the journey and its instruction.
“Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary.” (Gal. 6:9)
I had a close friend in high school that I had known since elementary days. The shocking news came one evening on the radio that his mother had been killed in a car accident. He was also in the car and had been badly injured. He didn’t return to school for a long time.
I didn’t get to see him for a few days after his return. He usually came by car, whereas I rode the bus; we didn’t have any classes together. I really wanted to see him, but I found myself seizing whenever I pictured us greeting for the first time. I had hurt for him while he was away, but I didn’t know how to approach him in his sad new reality.
I still remember the day I saw him: He was standing by his locker at the lower end of the busy central hallway in leg and arm casts and on crutches, his helpers attending him. When I spotted him and his entourage on my left, I thought to stop and draw near, but I kept walking instead. To this day that moment pains me, and I wish for it back.
Moving Beyond Our Own Fear
I think this scenario occurs more often than we can tell. Most of us know or have known people that have experienced great distress or tragedy. Our hearts bled for them and many prayers were offered on their behalf, especially with the understanding that their misfortune could have easily belonged to us. Yet fear overtook us when we felt to go and comfort them.
Some of us get it right because we do call and show our faces or lend a hand. Still, there are no easy textbook methods for dealing with people in pain, no tried-n-true icebreakers for tragedy. If you’re like me, you fear other’s emotions coming unhinged and your response. I’ve discovered that there is no pretty way to empathize with hurting people other than to wrap myself in their sackcloth and cover my head with their ashes.
But I’ve also learned that people do not require much to know that you’re there for them. In fact, in difficult times the little you do goes a long way, more so than when times are good. Truthfully, it’s not always that we can do much to help where help is most needed because visceral pain is deeply internal and personal and takes time to heal. People just want to know they’re not alone.
Learning to Empathize
When we don’t know how to respond, that is the way to respond: with honesty. I got a second chance at this a few years ago when a special mother of mine passed away. I was able to embrace her son and say, “I don’t know what to say, but I’m praying for you and I’m here if you need me.” In my communications studies we were taught about immediacy, being in the moment and present to the other. In my opinion, honesty and presence is how to deal with people in their distress.
Let me add a final suggestion. Make yourself do what you honestly feel despite your reservations. What you do for the other person, in all its glorious inadequacy, will mean far more to them than it will to you. You cannot disallow that it may be some part of what you say or do that might pull them through their despair.
The following was originally an academic book report and is extracted from Augustine’s Confessions.
“For what am I to myself without Thee but a guide to my own downfall?” These are words Augustine had learned to speak following a tortuous path to faith. His was a life that proved the cost of sin and salvation to be the same: everything. Augustine is remembered glowingly as a bishop, church father, teacher on grace, and author of City of God. He is often considered the greatest theologian of the church after the apostle Paul. Yet Augustine’s Confessions show us that the grace of God retrieves even the saint from sin’s dump.
Aurelius Augustinus Hipponensis was born in Tagaste, Numidia (Souk Ahras, Algeria), in North Africa on November 13, 354. His mother, Monica, was a devout Christian and his father, Patricius, was a city official and practicing pagan who in later years converted to Christ. Patricius determined to provide Augustine the best possible education, even above what wealthier students were afforded, which resulted in Augustine studying rhetoric, philosophy, and Greek and Latin literature and grammar. Augustine had a brilliant mind, but he was not a serious student. He was motivated to learn only what engaged his attention, and he describes himself as disobedient. He was often flogged for being slow at learning and wandering off to play rather than completing his assignments.
He says of his parents during his adolescent years, “I disobeyed them, not because I had chosen a better way, but from a sheer love of play. I loved the vanity of victory, and I loved to have my ears tickled with lying fables, which made them itch even more ardently.” Augustine eventually became mischievous and rebellious, something that alarmed Monica. She pleaded with her son to turn to God, but Augustine viewed the things of the church as inferior in intellect and purpose. Monica would remain the prime spiritual influence in Augustine’s life and earnestly prayed for him the rest of her days.
By the time he was sixteen Augustine had relocated to Madaura, a city twenty miles from Tagaste. There he studied grammar and rhetoric; while there he gathered money to visit Carthage for further education. Not getting all of the money he needed and between schools, Augustine says that it was during this time that sexual lust gripped his heart and plunged him headlong into promiscuity. He writes, “The mists of passion steamed up out of the puddly concupiscence of the flesh, and the hot imagination of puberty, and they so obscured and overcast my heart that I was unable to distinguish pure affection from unholy desire.” It would be the greatest vice of his life. Augustine became a sex addict and soon a son, Adeodatus, was born to him. During these same years Augustine became increasingly mischievous and seeking of ambition, gathering to himself companions who enjoyed like passions.
Finally, arriving at Carthage, Augustine became a master student at the School of Rhetoric where he studied “books of eloquence.” He says that whatever was written in any of the fields of rhetoric, logic, geometry, music, or arithmetic, he easily understood without the assistance of any instructor. He also took an inquisitive look into the scriptures, but he says:
I saw something not comprehended by the proud, not disclosed to children, something lowly in the hearing but sublime in the doing, and veiled in mysteries…Truly they were of a sort to aid the growth of little ones, but I scorned to be a little one and, swollen with pride, I looked upon my self as fully-grown.
This time was also the beginning of Augustine’s nine-year espousal of Manichean philosophy. Augustine was nineteen years-old at this time. The Manicheans were a Christian sect founded by Persian religious teacher Mani. A radical dualism distinguished it, and it attracted many for its straightforward rational solution to the problem of evil. Augustine took a strong interest in astrology, also, and became unshakable in his conviction about it.
He returned to Tagaste to teach rhetoric and says that God was still working to remind him of grace. He had a dear friend from his childhood with whom he had often enjoyed mischief. This friend became seriously ill and fell into a coma for a considerable time. While he was in the coma, he received a baptism; when he revived and learned of it, he became very serious about faith. Upon learning that his friend was revived, Augustine rushed to his bedside. Augustine says that he tried jesting with him concerning his baptism but was stunned to learn that his friend had turned to Christ. The friend even recoiled from Augustine as though he were an enemy. Augustine decided to let his friend recover before inquiring further, but the fever returned upon his friend and he died. Augustine became depressed but more curious about God.
Once again Augustine moved, back to Carthage, to teach rhetoric, putting him in contact with some respected individuals. This marked a turning point in his spiritual progression. At this time philosophy was not satisfying the deep questions in his heart, but a (providential) break in his darkness soon arrived. Faustus, a famous Manichean bishop, visited Carthage. Augustine, now 29, had longed to see this man but had since become disillusioned with Manicheanism. He now found the ideas of other philosophers to be more credible than Manicheanism’s “tedious fables.” Augustine walked away from Faustus disappointed with his empty, eloquent words. Augustine says that his own learning exceeded Faustus’s, and this threw him into further despair and perplexity.
He then took a teaching position in Rome, partly because of the higher salary but more on account of studious Roman learners, something that turned out to be untrue. After arriving in Rome, however, Augustine nearly died of illness; upon recovering his mind, he returned to his Catholic upbringing. His stint in Rome was short-lived and soon he accepted a public teaching position in Milan. Augustine says, “And to Milan I came, to Ambrose the bishop, famed through the whole world as one of the best of men.” Augustine was intrigued with Ambrose. He saw that Ambrose was not only well-educated and eloquent, but also very caring and devout. These traits impressed Augustine and he drew close to Ambrose.
Augustine became Ambrose’s protégé and a catechumen. His faith continued to grow from this point on, but he still could not resolve nagging questions that led him back to philosophy. One day while walking the streets of Milan, Augustine saw a beggar with a “full belly,” laughing and joking. The site tortured him: to think that such a person without anything could attain happiness in life but he himself, an accomplished academician, was burdened, agitated, and guilt-ridden.
He also continued to struggle with promiscuity. Having his mistress and mother of his son with him in Milan, Augustine—now 30—yet planned to marry another matron. The normal minimum legal age for marriage was twelve, but the intended bride was only ten at the time! So proposing to endure the two-year wait, he sent his heartbroken mistress of thirteen years back to Africa. Afterwards, still being swollen with lust and too weak to wait, Augustine obtained yet another mistress. His dear friend Alypius eventually talked him out of the marriage, as it would hinder their quest for truth.
At this time Augustine constantly exchanged philosophies in his search for ultimate truth. He and his friends even formed an alliance for this purpose and lived together communally. Although he was a catechumen of the church, he only gradually recanted Manicheanism. He grew weary with astrology calling it “lying divinations and impious absurdities” and took to Neo-Platonism. Yet he did not credit Neo-Platonism with leading him any closer to real truth. So he seized upon the writings of the apostle Paul and these influenced him greatly. He had before thought Paul to contradict himself and to not agree with the Law and Prophets, but he says:
Now all these doubts vanished away. And I saw that those pure words had but one face, and I learned that whatever truth I had read (in the Platonists) was here combined with the exaltation of Thy grace. Thus, he who sees must not glory as if he had not received, not only the things that he sees, but the very power of sight—for what does he have that he has not received as a gift?
Soon Augustine visited Simplicianus, the greatly revered spiritual father of Ambrose. Simplicianus told Augustine the story of Victorinus whom he had known personally and led to open profession of Christ. Victorinus was a well-educated high Roman citizen and senator who had been honored with a statue in the Roman Forum. Victorinus studied the scriptures and found truth in them. And surrendering to Christ, he publicly professed his faith and was baptized before an ecstatic congregation.
Soon Ponticianus, a fellow countryman and friend of Augustine in Africa, visited him unexpectedly and while there saw the writings of Paul on Augustine’s game table. Surprised to see the book and to hear of Augustine’s study, he proceeded to tell of Antony the Great of Egypt who had recently lived. Ponticianus told his own story of being indirectly influenced by the monk’s life and how his two friends and co-workers, all of them imperial guards, after receiving Athanasius’s account in one reading, renounced on the spot all their work and personal endeavors to serve God and become monks.
The reaction in Augustine was cataclysmic. He says to God:
But while he was speaking, Thou, O Lord, turned me toward myself, taking me from behind my back, where I had put myself while unwilling to exercise self-scrutiny. And now Thou didst set me face to face with myself, that I might see how ugly I was, and how crooked and sordid, bespotted and ulcerous. And I looked and loathed myself; but wither to fly from myself I could not discover.
The stage was finally set for Augustine’s conversion. Augustine grew disgusted with himself and knew that there was but one resolution. If his discontent about the beggar had unnerved him, the story of the two guards enraged him. In the most dramatic turn in Augustine’s story, the cataclysm within him erupted and, like a crazed man, he ran and grabbed Alypius and exclaimed:
What is this? What did you hear? The uninstructed start up and take heaven, and we—with all our learning but so little heart—see where we wallow in flesh and blood! Because others have gone before us, are we ashamed to follow, and not rather ashamed at our not following?
Alypius was a dear friend to Augustine and understood, even felt the distress within him. Augustine dashed away to the garden of the house with Alypius following behind him. He beat himself like a madman, tearing at his hair, striking his forehead, entwining his fingers, and grabbing his knees. When he thought he might have “choked with weeping,” he did not want Alypius to see him and darted out of the garden and fell under a distant tree, weeping and wailing over his condition.
Augustine had come to the end of sin, recognizing it for what it had done to his soul, and he cried out to God, “How long, how long? Tomorrow and tomorrow? Why not now? Why not this very hour make an end to my uncleanness?” As he was lamenting he heard a child’s voice chanting over and over “Tolle, lege. Tolle, lege,” or “Pick it up, read it. Pick it up, read it.” It was common to believe that the first words one came upon in the scriptures was a revelatory word from God; Augustine remembered this in Antony’s conversion. He quickly came to his senses and returned to the bench in the garden where Alypius was still sitting and where he had left the book of Pauline writings. Augustine says:
I snatched it up, opened it, and in silence read the paragraph on which my eyes first fell: “Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in clambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh to fulfill the lusts thereof.” I wanted to read no further, nor did I need to. For instantly, as the sentence ended, there was infused in my heart something like the light of full certainty and all the gloom of doubt vanished away.
Augustine closed the book and, with a tranquil countenance, marked his conversion. He proceeded to tell all that had just happened to Alypius, but he learned that Alypius himself had a like experience in the same moment, apparently taking up the identical text. Thus, they were both converted at the time and went to inform Monica who had finally received her prayers answered and with great joy.
While outdoors sweeping debris from the morning’s yard waste pickup, I came upon a very large worm and tossed it aside in the cleanup. But I wasn’t settled about it and thought I had better check and be sure about what it was. It was actually a young snake 5-6 inches in length, although I couldn’t immediately tell. It was turned upside down and was rigid, playing dead. Once I got it turned over on its belly, its little head rose to attention, striking at the broom once, tongue flicking.
I’ll probably draw the ire of some now. I found a plank of wood and killed the little feller. I hated doing it with everything in me; and perhaps I didn’t have to. I considered freeing it, but I wasn’t certain that I wouldn’t be creating a ‘bigger’ problem for a later time or for someone else. So I just did the deed and ached inside.
It wasn’t unlike other times I nearly needed therapy for cutting down squirrels, birds, and turtles in their prime. And who has been more afflicted than me by unwittingly “manslaughter-ing” three mice in three separate incidents, at home and work, with well-placed steps. I still freak out when I step on things. Kyrie eleison.
This moment, however, brought a scripture to mind that afforded me some peace: “A righteous man has regard for the life of his animal, but even the compassion of the wicked is cruel” (Prov. 12:10, NASB). At least I know I wasn’t being cruel. We can dispute what animals deserve life in certain situations at another time, but the verse offered me a chance to meditate, even about snakes.
I believe we have a duty to God to care for and treat animals with respect for a few reasons.
First, we have God’s direct commands and scriptural implications. God created the earth and filled it with life, and he took pride in what he had created. The animals are his creation just as we are. Part of his Sabbath injunction is rest for working animals. Everything gets a break. There were also a number of civil rules in place protecting animals and their masters in certain cases for economic purposes.
Second, we can conclude that God loves animals. We must assume that the mercies of God extend to all his works, not just humans. Jesus, in his several references to God’s care for us, often draws upon nature in his teachings: “Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father” (Matt. 10:29). Furthermore, animals, as part of Creation, are not only God’s creative expression, but perhaps also an expression about his character that isn’t evident now.
Third, animals have souls. As our theological understanding goes, the soul is the seat of aspects such as the will, emotions, personality, conscience, and even the life force itself. All of these features are found in animals, including their physical senses that are often more advanced than the same in humans. Journalists know that stories about cute pets—puppies and kittens—quickly grab people’s hearts. And who can forget the stir created by quarterback Michael Vick and his dogfighting crimes. If animals were any less what we ourselves are, we might not react the way we do about them.
So, finally, animals have deep meaning to human life. We say of dogs that they are “man’s best friend” because they love unconditionally. Animals bring enjoyment to families. They work for us and with us to make life happen, like in farming. They sense our emotional and physical ailments, even disaster, and they warn us and save lives. They lift our heavy spirits when life has taken its toll.
Theologians relegate animals and creation to general revelation, opposite special revelation. General revelation assumes knowledge about God through what is plain in nature, in human conscience, or through divine providence. Some go as far as to conclude that it doesn’t bring us to special revelation, spiritual or saving knowledge, often understood as derived by means like the scriptures and other supernatural experiences.
I’m not sure I fully agree with that notion. No, nature doesn’t specifically tell of Christ; however, if it is indeed God’s revelation, he can do what he desires with it, including open the eyes of the heart. Psalm 19 is the supreme text on both revelations. Countless many have encountered the Holy One simply by pondering nature, reminding me of Brother Lawrence. Have you ever watched a bird close-up from your kitchen window or a spider building its web in the early evening? Does the budding spring or fading fall connect you to something immensely deeper than this life? If these things don’t catapult you to God, I challenge you to look again.
I cannot be sure that our pets go to Heaven, but I am sure animals are there, according to scripture. Maybe too I’ll recover all my heartache when I arrive at my mansion on a gorgeous mountain there. And I’ll discover a few squirrels, birds, turtles, mice, and, yes, even a friendly snake waiting to greet me. Wishful thinking? Maybe, but with God, well, nothing is impossible.
When temptation comes, it often arrives like a tempest. And doubt, driven as a gale, overwhelms the mind and blasts every nook of sensibility. Floods of desire breach every restraint and choke all low-lying defenses. The soul, the unfortunate city, burns with emotions, ablaze in fear and self-loathing. But the storm passes and much remains unscathed. Now all is still. Just then you catch sight of the old lust that itself watched the storm blow in, waiting.
Commentary
1 – True temptation appeals to something within us that is enticed. Have you ever reared your defenses against a temptation and wondered why you were dealing with it? We err if we don’t understand that temptation would never exist if the lure did not already have some ground, interest or advantage, within us, for that is what is exploited.
2 – Old temptations are the toughest. It is usually not the new enticements that trip us up. We can usually toss them off easily if we’re committed to another way. So, like storms, they rage and blow, but blow over. It’s that something that is strongly lodged within us, however, the matter we’ve been dealing with for years, that constantly knocks us to the ground. We all know these by name.
3 – Thus old temptations don’t die easily. The scene is meant to express how old habits do not give us the pleasure of being mere storms that come and go. To rid ourselves of these will become a task as personally engaging as the temptation is known and surely a fight to the death. Old foes must be conquered.
As with any drama interest in the story depends on the strength of the conflict. Humanly speaking, we’re all pitiful creatures who for some reason just cannot get along. Our relations have the tendency of the clouds: to open and display the wonders of life as well as to darken and wreak havoc. I dare to believe that life isn’t so dangerous except for the human encounters we risk.
I consider Jesus and his friend Judas one of the most intriguing twosomes in history. Have you ever stopped to think of them? Jesus was undoubtedly the man on the scene, and it was all the rage to be acquainted with him. But when he selected twelve ordinary streeters to be his go-to men, could he with his spiritual powers not have known that one of them—Judas specifically—would turn on him? Surely he did, but he and Judas still shared a very close and spiritually powerful relationship. Judas was trusted enough to be his bagman.
Some weeks after I began work abroad, one of my wing mates from college arrived. I was thrilled that he and I were going to be working together. But not long after his arrival I noticed that he began distancing himself from me. When I approached him about it, I learned the reason was over something quite silly, which only revealed to me deeper issues about him. The rift between him and me only widened. He would avoid me, backstab, and throw verbal punches when he could. Still, I considered him my friend and even availed myself to be his listening ear when he wrestled with character issues.
We all have encountered people who turn traitorous. It’s not easy to embrace people when they go to lengths to scorn you. It taxes one’s reserves to walk a moral high ground and requires maturity and much temperance, for even the most considerate and longsuffering person reaches a limit with difficult individuals. Simply put, people can work your nerves and get you downright mad. I admit that I had moments with my colleague when I felt my blood pressure rise, and he knew it, too. I’m sure Jesus had moments with Judas after he defected—and maybe even with some of the good disciples—when he bared his teeth and clenched his fists.
A rule I’ve made for myself, however, is that no matter how below par one should stoop, I must not allow his or her weakness to dictate my response. In middle school, when heated words got exchanged, there was always a meathead in the background that piped up with, “Those sound like fighting words to me!”—then the fists started flying. It’s all a lesson in maintaining control of the situation and yourself, and this doesn’t compromise one’s integrity either. At times the moral high ground might mean confrontation and at other times it could mean heaping coals of fire with kindness. Whatever it is, it is not emotional, malicious, or irrational. The point: Don’t listen to the meathead!
The notion of the good guy is that he always comes in last place because good plays fair. Based on the kind of belief system one follows, I suppose this could appear to be true. Christ’s own teachings instruct us to pray for enemies, to turn the cheek, and to bless those who curse us. If television and movies are a notion of cultural opinion, good is weak, evil always resurrects with perfect timing, and the hero must plow through hell itself to see any measure of accomplishment. But maybe all this bad talk is mere hyperbole. It would do us well to remember that the satisfaction of a good story is the plot itself, particularly, the resolution and not the conflict.
Why should wickedness and gore and vulgarity and hatred appear lasting? Maybe it says more about the core of the human heart and its incurable, even insatiable, need for misery. I believe good overcomes evil and not only eventually. When has light infinitesimal ever been extinguished by darkness incomparable? Each good deed and good action outdoes any bad deed and action every time it is performed. It may not be quickly saluted or appreciated, but it is hard to resist because true good is also redemptive.
Remember Javert—Javert of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables? He was the treacherous one of the story, consumed with allegiance to his own moral exactitude that only we could see had become turpitude. But when Jean Valjean, after years of mistreatment from Javert, refused not to show him mercy, what happened? So, in Paul’s words, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:21).