Mark's Letters

The recent and sudden death of my pastor, as well as a little scare with my mother (who now has a pace-maker), has forced me to think about a topic that always bewilders me: resurrection. Whenever I actually move beyond vague reassurances that believers are in a better place, I realize how little I understand about exactly what happens after Christians die. Are we just spirits for a while? Are we in another dimension or in another place? Do we someday get a resurrected body like Jesus had when he appeared to Thomas? After the resurrection why did Jesus eat with the disciples? Did he digest the food and poop? Is a marriage feast of the lamb only symbolic or real heavenly food? Will we be able to transcend time and space and suddenly just be somewhere? Anywhere in the universe? Will we be pure energy? How old, ugly, or beautiful will the resurrected me be? Will I be short eternally? Well, you get the idea—lots of stuff I don’t know.

Those with a scientific mind may be tempted to reject the idea of resurrection because there are so many unanswered questions—so much we can’t grasp. But for me this is exactly where science comes to the rescue. Imagine the life cycle of dragonflies that spend all their early stage (sometimes several years) as aquatic insects crawling along the bottom of streams or ponds. Even if these insects were as smart as humans, imagine how hard it would be for them to understand or believe that they could someday be dragonflies that zoom through something called air at speeds up to 35 mph. Dragonflies enter both a new place and something like a new dimension—and of course their new bodies are super-cool. As larva, could they have ever imagined having something called wings—four of them?

Best of all, it is all real—none of it is wish-fulfillment or religious fantasy. Therefore, is it really that hard to believe God could do something just as astounding and incomprehensible with us? If God does this for bugs, isn’t it likely that “eye has not seen nor ear heard” the glory he has prepared for us?

Dragonflies have a habit of sometimes shooting straight up into the sky until out of sight. I think this might be pure insect joy after years spent in the muddy bottoms of ponds. Perhaps it is like the joy we will have when freed from a body filled with medications, held together with implanted hips and knees, and kept going with pacemakers. When freed, I too might become a shooting star of joy, a comet of celebration.

Paul calls this a mystery, “Behold, I tell you a mystery; we will not all sleep, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye . . .” We can’t understand it, but it is definitely change we can believe in.

You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men. Matthew 5:13

Growing up in an evangelical church, I heard a lot more sermons about being light than being salt. There is something clear cut, black and white, about being light. And Jesus makes clear what letting your light shine means, “Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.”

But Jesus doesn’t really explain what being salt means probably because everyone knew that the purpose of salt was to flavor and preserve food. But it is exactly at this point that some evangelicals have a problem. Why would we want to preserve or flavor the world if Christ is about to return? Our evangelical heritage emphasizes saving as many as possible before Christ returns. We are more likely to shun the world than flavor it.

One consequence of this evangelical “otherworldliness” is that large parts of our culture have gone unsalted. Salt preserves best when evenly spread and worked into every part of the meat. The unsalted parts rot. A 2007 Pew report surveyed journalists and found that only 8%, compared to the 39% of the public, attended church weekly. But most Christian colleges have not been busy making well-salted Christian journalists. Nor have Christian colleges been known for their contributions to the film industry. For many years evangelical colleges failed to encourage or train students for law school.

But failing to salt these areas of our culture has not kept us from wringing our hands about the moral decay in our legal and entertainment industries. We withhold the salt and act shocked by the rot in Hollywood, newspapers, and the courts.

We may do this because the work of salt doesn’t fit the evangelical paradigm. Salt preserves and flavors meat, but it doesn’t turn the meat into salt. Salt makes the world less corrupt, more virtuous; it draws the world nearer the kingdom of God. But too often “nearer” is not good enough for evangelicals. We believe people are either in or out of the kingdom. Yet Jesus said to a scribe who had answered well, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” (Mark 12:34) And Paul spoke of those in Berea as “more noble-minded” and therefore received “the word with great eagerness.”

Artists and story-tellers can weave nobility and virtue into their stories and into their culture. Yet in the evangelical world artists have often felt like strangers unless they could sing a hymn beautifully. J. R. R. Tolkien has probably not been the direct cause of anyone’s conversion, but probably few Christians have done more to ennoble our culture with the traditional Christian virtues of loyalty, faithfulness, and the beauty of goodness. Few Christians have touched as many children as C. S. Lewis has in his Chronicles of Narnia. We can call this work pre-evangelism if we must, but being salt prevents rot and it diminishes the meanness and emptiness of our culture.

I work hard putting a dry rub on meat I am going to barbecue. I heap on the salt and spices and work it into all sides of the meat. I look carefully for any area I may have missed. It is messy work, but worth it. The church and Christian colleges need to be as intentional and strategic when fulfilling Christ’s call to be salt. We have not looked carefully at the world to see where the rot is starting and the salt is needed.

Although evangelicals have tried to stay salty, biblical and distinct from the world, they have often been content to stay in the shaker. Churches can easily become lumps of salt that leave their communities unseasoned. Merely drifting into worldliness is not the cure for our lumpiness. We are called to disciple our culture by bringing Christian values to every academic discipline, every form of entertainment, and every kind of art.

God has the grace, wisdom, and resources to meet every genuine need for salt we might discover in the world if we are willing to take seriously our call to be both salt, as well as light.

This afternoon I was surprised by joy. The thick dark clouds billowed in the southern sky and thunder rumbled in the distance. When Teckla asked me why the thunder made me happy, I had to think.

In Myrtle Point weather is usually predictable: rain, fog, clouds, and occasionally sun. But I even liked thunder in the Midwest where it is way more common. I think I like the possibility inherent in thunder. The possibility that lighting will strike and that things can happen.

At the heart of much depression and despair is the conviction that nothing can change—that nothing new can break through. Those caught in despair and sin are described in Isaiah 56: 12 as saying: “Come let us get wine and let us drink heavily of strong drink; And tomorrow will be like today, only more so.” This is the attitude of those who have no fear of judgment or hope of blessing. “Same ol’, same ol’.”

But thunder reminds that things can change. God acts.

Last night I listened to some wonderful missionaries from South America tell about how persecuted the evangelical churches have been in Columbia this last decade. He said over 300 pastors had been assassinated by kidnappers and narco-terrorists. He then told an inspiring story about a big burly terrorist who interrupted a church service. He was draped in hand-grenades, had two pistols stuck in his belt, and carried an automatic rifle in a sling around his shoulder.

The pastor boldly approached the man, shook his hand and asked how he could help him. The power of God moving through the pastor’s hand staggered the man. As the pastor and others in the church helped him to a chair, he said, “I can tell you are a man of God; please pray me”. The pastor and others laid hands on him and his weapons and prayed for God to save him. When they were done, he left the church without harming anyone and asked them to continue praying for him. The missionary ended this story by praising God and saying, “God is in control!”

I loved this story, but I found myself wondering if God was equally in control when hundreds of other pastors were assassinated. If we say yes, we are forced to admit these two examples of his control are quite different. We are not likely to share the murder of these other pastors as reasons for praising God even though we might thank God for their faithfulness in the face of death. Of course, our ways are not God ways, and the martyrdom of pastors in Columbia has fueled tremendous growth. So should we see these murders as part of God’s sovereign plan?

I think the parable of Jesus in Matthew 13 is helpful. In the parable of the wheat and tares the master’s servants come to him and say, “Sir, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then does it have tares?” The master answered, “An enemy has done this!”

Some Christians would look at the tares and say, “Praise God for tares! He works in mysterious ways! We are finite and can’t understand the inscrutable wisdom of God in mixing in all these tares!” Such a response seems spiritual even though unbiblical. I have often heard people at prayer meetings conclude a long list of terrible things with “But God is still in control!” Much on their list, however, seemed to be stuff more likely under the control of God’s enemy.

It is certainly true that despite all the enemy can and does do, God’s will and kingdom will triumph! And God is able to take all the enemy throws at us and work it for our good and against Satan’s purposes. But Jesus himself refers to Satan as “the ruler of this world.” In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul says our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against spiritual forces of wickedness in heavenly places.

Rulers, even evil spiritual ones, control some stuff—stuff God isn’t controlling. Scripture declares there will come a day when all things are made subject to Christ—a day when all things are put under His feet, a day when every knee will bow and every tongue confess Jesus is Lord. But not yet. Right now the world is a battlefield where God is taking territory heart by heart.

God controls some things, Satan controls others. Sometimes Satan afflicts God’s people with terrible things. It is okay to say like the master in the parable, “An enemy has done this!” It is also okay to not understand why in some instances God intervenes and defeats the enemy and in others God doesn’t. We can rejoice when a narco-terrorist is stopped in his tracks by God’s power. We can also mourn that Satan stirred the hearts of evil men to assassinate pastors. There is much Satan controls, but God is on the move.

In this battle there are real casualties, but no suffering for Christ goes unrewarded or unfruitful. And death, Satan’s most powerful weapon against us, is only that which ushers us into God’s presence. We should respond to this whole question of what God does or doesn’t control by making certain God controls us and by becoming warriors who discern the battle raging about us.

At different times my boys, all in their twenties and making their way in world, have said, “Life sucks!” And although I have been richly blessed in many ways, I have to agree. At especially discouraging times, a couple of my kids have said, “I hate my life!”

Last night my father appeared in a dream. I don’t remember much of the dream except thinking, “I want to hug him.” He was sitting in a booth at a restaurant with his back turned to me. He didn’t turn around and I woke up before I got to the booth. He died in 1993. Peter was three at the time so he has only a few memories of grandpa. The other boys never met him. Mom is now 91 and still misses him. Death sucks!

But death entered the world through sin—the sin of Adam and Eve. And when I think of the things about life that are terrible, depressing, and heart-rending, I quickly see that most of what makes life suck is sin—plain old stupid-ugly sin.

The trick of Satan is to first tempt us to sin, and then get us to hate God for the consequences of our sin. Some people sow sin, reap misery, and spend the rest of their lives bitter toward God about their sucky lives. Others are victims of sinful people and get back at these people by embracing the same sinfulness. Stupid, but most of us have done it some.

We should hate! But not God and not ourselves, or even those who hurt us. We should hate sin. We should hate it like surgeons hate cancer, like brides hate dirt on their dresses, and like chefs hate flies in their soup.

We aren’t going be content with a just a little cancer, mud only on one side of the wedding gown, or a fly only in one part of the soup bowl. Here is one place that a zero-tolerance policy makes sense. We should hate the rebellion, unbelief, and disobedience that brought death into the world and in little ways brings into each day.

Of course it is tempting to hate sin only in others and be blind to it in ourselves. But we are called to hate sin in ourselves and be grieved and prayerful when we stumble across it in others.

No matter how many ways the world tries to dress sin up as fun, exciting, and glamorous, we need to see it in all its ugliness and smell the stink of death around it. I want my boys to recognize that sin is what makes life suck. I want them love God, thank Him for their life, and hate sin with a perfect hatred.