Monday Morning Music Ministry

1-25-21

Where do we go from here?

This is a question many Christians are asking about current events, at the time of this writing; and very roughly calculated, about half the American population wonders the same. In fact the question is pertinent after many elections, momentous events, and ends of wars.

The “ends” of elections and events and wars often settle matters in a strict sense, but in a broader sense usually bring about new questions and challenges. Therefore members of the winning side may just as earnestly ask Where we go from here; just as aimlessly or with similar uncertainty.

We often fool ourselves about matters of finality, most often because we yearn for finality. Wishing, of course, does not make things so. Fate does not wait upon our polling; God’s will is exercised without regard to our opinions. An example is the meaning many people ascribe to “commencement exercises” – as to mean “OK! That’s over!” Patient families, and parents paying tuition bills, might see it as that. But “commencement” means “beginning,” not wrapping up. So the wheel turns.

And so it is with elections. Campaigning ends; perhaps officeholders change desks; and often a new agenda is advanced. On paper, that’s “where we go from here.” But the larger matter, especially now, is where a group of followers goes. Where is a movement headed? Do believers casually adjust their firmly held beliefs? Should they?

My context, of course, is the recent election. And my honest concern is the status and direction of those Christians who experience a deep moral dilemma about the results and the implication of the results. I am one of these.

As a student of history I am reminded, often in spite of myself, that very little is new; that crises are not as bad as they seem; that a long-range perspective commands our attention. “Nothing new under the sun,” Solomon wrote. Yet logic dictates (and, yes, history too) that sometimes things are as bad as they seem. Sometimes… worse. Being accepting, or phlegmatic, can have negative consequence, from self-delusion to social disaster.

Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train. Sometimes, contra Dr Pangloss, this is not the best of all worlds. Sometimes compromise is not the best solution – when, at times, compromise leads to more division and turmoil, counter-intuitively, than “peace.” And peace is not synonymous with righteousness.

“Can’t we all just get along?”

No, we can’t.

Rodney King’s lament spoke for a time in America, and struck a chord. Now we voice a lament for a generation; at an earlier time we faced choices about freedom vs Communism. Today the questions are asked of us about the basic assumptions and commitments of American society and Western civilization. This is not a crisis of flavors of the month.

By many standards we are no longer a Christian culture. “Post-Christian” is not a construct to be regarded abstractly, even against cultural shifts as consequential as Medievalism to the Renaissance, or Neoclassicism to the Romantic Era. It is the result of the seductive slide from Modernism to Post-Modernism to whatever our current state of intellectual and moral anarchy ought to be called. The West, and much of the world, has been moored and sustained by the tenets of Biblical morality and, especially, Christianity, for millennia.

Disruption was always threatened, and the defense of morals, ethics, law, art, and liberty not only resisted corruption but strengthened the ethos. Heresies, however, morphed into political poisons like Socialism and Communism. Doubt begat regression and relativism. Self-indulgence – as promised by history’s inexorable cycles – brings self-destruction.

The nexus might be in these very days, the cultural equivalent of particle acceleration. Portions of society have been shedding traditional morality; capitalism has given way to the welfare mentality; things as basic as a person’s sex and a family’s security are not just questioned but demonized. People call wrong right, and right wrong… as the Bible predicted.

We know we are at a rare moment in history when this cultural rot subsists not in isolated pockets of society, but in the platform, promises, and practices of a major political party (or, eventually, both of them). And dissenters who once were stewards of universal values are lectured about “unity” – which means uniformity. Once again, by history’s example, lecturing quickly becomes coercion, then repression, then oppression. We already hear calls from the victors for “re-education centers” for those needing to be punished for having ideals and beliefs.

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, we are told in Romans 12:2.

Every word is important: “Pattern” reminds us that the evil that men do right now is not random, and is roaming about seeking whom to devour. The devil has a plan as surely as God does. And “conform any longer” illuminates what has happened to us, but encourages us to recognize the freedom we have to break that bondage of darkness and sin.

The next part of the verse makes sure we are not left wanting in this admonition: But be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

This is our “Get out of jail free” card. In Christ we are new creations. We can render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s… but those things do not include our souls.

Where do we go from here? We stop conforming – to the cultural rot all around us. We defend our faith, our families, our future – they are in the balance. We commit to deflect the slings and arrows – putting on the whole armor of God – and realize that our mortal enemies might be in our very neighborhoods and favorite entertainments.

Do not conform, but be transformed. Reject the pattern of this world; renew your mind! And test the spirits of “unity” – unify with abortionists, idolaters, and secularists? God forbid!

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Click: Have Mercy, O God, For My Tears’ Sake

8-22-16

There are many worldviews by which people live today, as there always has been in all societies. The difference in contemporary America, I think, is that the majority of citizens have no idea of what a worldview is, or whether or not they care about operating under any established and consistent precepts.

Even Christians, including dedicated and fervent church-goers, often fail the test of worldview standards. Many Christians love God and believe in Jesus, but as if in the world but not of the world, know more what they oppose than what they should defend. As we recently noted, most people these days are not so much ignorant of history as indifferent to its relevance.

In the political realm, partisans on the Left know their socialist and Marxist dogma, even if they reject the labels. On the Right, there are patriots who love liberty and know the Constitution. In the vast Middle, well-intentioned people are malleable, their opinions inevitably shaped less by events than by the media and the culture.

This situation in America and the West was foretold by Aldous Huxley in a letter to George Orwell (both notable futurists and dystopian thinkers) in 1949: “Within the next generation I believe that the world’s leaders will discover that infant conditioning and narco-hypnosis are more efficient, as instruments of government, than [sticks] and prisons, and that the lust for power can be just as completely satisfied by suggesting people into loving their servitude as by flogging them and kicking them into obedience.”

The Bible, inevitably, put the same thought – the same prediction – most clearly: “The time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears; And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables” (II Timothy 4: 3-4). Indeed, we love our servitude.

Counted among those “teachers” are not only members of the educational-industrial complex, but also politicians, role-models from popular culture, and… “people of the cloth” – ministers, preachers, priests, rabbis.

I am pessimistic about the future of American civilization (as well as of our “democracy,” republic, and government) because we are the inheritors of at least 500 years of a corrupted worldview. The worst aspects of a cultural secularization were unlikely to have coexisted with theocentric virtue. America was a “last best hope” of mankind, not for democracy’s sake – never an ideal of the Founders and Framers – but of a virtuous society. Respect, self-respect, order, justice, charity: these were among the characteristics recommended, and recognized, by Pilgrims and Great Revivalists; by our civic architects like John Adams and James Madison; by admiring observers like Alexis de Tocqueville, who retained enough equanimity to state: “When America ceases to be good, she will cease being great.”

One of the infections of the half-millennium cited above is the belief in progress, a hallmark of the Modern Age. Most Americans will think my definition, and certainly my analysis, is loopy. But that shows how pervasive this worldview has become. Earlier societies and civilizations, however, neither believed in the inevitability of human progress nor its efficacy, if they thought much about it at all.

Inherent in the concept of progress, and history’s plodding march “forward,” is perfectibility. Once that belief is subscribed (and we have made a fetish of it in the West), then it naturally follows that laws can be passed, rules enforced, behavior modified, all to achieve perfection. In society; in individuals. Justice. Heaven on earth. Utopia.

Of course, this leads not to progress but to schemes, warring factions, and, for example, the parade of monsters of the past century who consigned millions to servitude and battlefield slaughters. Secularism, the glorification of Self, will do that. Human nature without its restraints reveals the worst, not the putative best, aspects. We have arrived at the 21st century thinking we know better than all societies, in all of history – better than the Word of God – about the structure of the family, the role of authority, the sanctity of life, and a host of such truths. Gosh, we’re great.

I cannot decry progress in certain areas by certain characterizations. My late wife, a diabetic since the age of 13, would not have had a 14th birthday party if not for medical science. I could not be enjoying Bach as I type a message that (still magically, to me) will be read by thousands of people. I am not an all-in Luddite.

But our conceited conviction that, quoting Dr Pangloss from Voltaire’s “Candide,” this is the best of all possible worlds, is as self-swindling and ridiculous as, well, Pangloss himself. It might just be the case that the world will never host a greater philosopher than Plato; no better sculptors than Michelangelo and Rodin; no better composers than Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven. The works of Rodin and the Viennese masters do not vitiate my point, but encourage us always to create and emulate. Not be perfect, because only God is perfect; but to create as He inspires us to be creative. (I mention Rodin, having last week stood in awe before sculptures in the Rodin Museum…)

The most pernicious effect of this modern malady is that we humans make a god of perfectibility: to the extent we can think, innovate, reform, and devise according to a faith in Progress, we commensurately surrender faith in God. We have replaced it with a faith in humanistic progress, in humankind’s perfectibility, in our selves.

Foolish us, we are doomed to fail. If you can lift your gaze from the muck – the bread and circuses as well as the disintegration of our social fabric – you will see how well the seduction of Progress’s inevitability and modern definition is working.

“And if it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served… or the gods… in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15).

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Purcell’s Funeral Sentences

10-12-15

As most of you know, Dr. Pangloss was a character in Candide by Voltaire. As with many characters in fiction and literature whose sayings (“Something will always turn up,” said Micawber in Dickens’ David Copperfield) and very names (Mrs. Malaprop in Sheridan’s The Rivals) have entered the language, Pangloss manifested the universal tendency to accept what life dumps on us: “This is the best of all possible worlds.”

It is very seldom that anyone who believes he or she really is living in the best of all possible worlds says so. Usually we are whistling in the graveyard; that is, putting up a confident front, trying to convince ourselves (and anyone else who will listen) that we are not as bad-off as things seems.

The saying, and the attitude behind it, is more than resignation to life’s vicissitudes. At its best it is a temporary surrender in one of life’s battles, a choice not to respond or fight or overcome. At its worst it is a false sense of security that replaces wisdom and joy; a counterfeit theology that rejects the rescue-and-recovery operation laid out for us by God.

The counterfeit theology is deadly… and common. Many Christians, deliberately or unconsciously, employ it. It is, really, saying “no thanks” to God when He offers comfort, solace, wisdom, understanding, strength, hope.

Truly, superstition. If we utter it, we think it will become so, and our troubles will be calmed.

The deadliest aspect of believing that “This is the best of all possible worlds” is on people who, ironically, are relieved from reaching low-points, feeling desperate, realizing that they must run to the Lord. Knowing they must run to the Lord. Having to crawl to the Lord, if necessary. It sounds hard, but we are talking about those hard moments we all face.

Seeking the Lord (who, always, always in these circumstances is closer than we think) is not a bad thing in the end. It is, in fact, the Best Thing. It is where He wants us. What a shame that it takes horrible situations – or that we let ourselves be so separated – that we have to experience that desperation.

But what a wonderful thing that we seek and arrive at the foot of the Cross, before the Throne of Grace.

“This is the best of all possible worlds”? The phrase is often said after a death, an accident, a disappointment that we cannot explain. Personal sorrow, economic distress, dashed dreams. “Oh, well, maybe it’s for the best…” is a denial-fed mantra. Its efficacy is self-swindling balm, because many people will then say, “Anyway, I have to believe that; it helps me get through.”

This puts the saying in company with wishing-stones, rabbit’s feet, lucky charms, necromancy. What a waste of the joy unspeakable, full of glory, that God offers. If this – in the larger, non-specific sense – were the best of all possible worlds, there would be no need for prayer, spiritual guidance, the Gifts of the Holy Spirit; indeed, no need for a Savior.

There is sin in the world. Sometimes, often, we sin; we fall short of the glory of God. Our problems are always some result of sin, corruption, junk in the world around us. And sometimes the result of our own actions. Whatever. God provides a refuge. Jesus is the cleft in the rock during life’s storms. The Holy Spirit is the Comforter.

“Come to Me, weak and heavy-laden,” Jesus invited. “Peace that passes understanding,” we are promised. “I am the bread of life,” when our very souls are starving. “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Understand me: the Sovereign Lord declares that without Him, this is NOT the best of all possible worlds.

If you are a believer and you find yourself falling back on that empty mantra, shake that dust from your sandals, and learn again how to walk with the Lord through this imperfect world.

If you are casual about your faith, or a nominal believer in God, or have a “universal” trust in the goodness of a supreme being – and you find yourself trusting, when “necessary,” that this is the best of all possible worlds – realize how empty this is. It is as sad, horribly sad, for people to decline God’s gifts as it is to defy Him.

And be more spiritual than to refer to “the man upstairs.” That “man” has moved out. In fact he was never home.

The Creator of the Universe not only is “upstairs,” but lives right next to you. He knows your answers; He has your answers; He IS your answer.

And He is your guide to the best of all possible worlds.

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Johnny Cash sang a song, late in his life, that captures the desperation we sometimes feel.

Click: Help Me, Lord