Praying for our rulers.

After we elect a new president, governor, mayor, or whomever, we Christians tend to remind ourselves to pray for our rulers.

Sometimes enthusiastically, ’cause it’s our candidate who just got elected. And if we’re the really partisan sort, we’ll even rub this fact in other people’s faces. “The patriotic thing to do is to close ranks and back our new leader for the good of the country. So bury that disappointment and pray for your new leader. That’s right, your new leader.” Every so often, the Christian preaching this attempts a sympathetic tone—“Hey, I know it’s rough; I’ve had to do this when your guy won”—but most of the time they’re too happy to care. About 12 seconds of the message is sympathy, and the rest is a victory lap. Hey, I’ve been on both sides of it.

And when our candidate lost, we might pray mournfully. Regretfully. Reluctantly. The candidates have been demonizing one another throughout the election, and when partisans lose, they’re convinced the End Times have just arrived. Hence the prayers for our rulers aren’t so much for God to bless them. More like asking God to mitigate their evil. Keep ’em from ruining our land. Stop ’em from destroying lives. Maybe Jesus could make a Damascus-Road-style appearance to them and radically transform them into someone who’d vote our way. Wouldn’t that be awesome?

Sometimes we pray sarcastically. Partisans who hate their leaders will often immediately dive for Psalm 109.

Psalm 109.6-20 NKJV

6Set a wicked man over him,

And let an accuser stand at his right hand.

7When he is judged, let him be found guilty,

And let his prayer become sin.

8Let his days be few,

And let another take his office.

9Let his children be fatherless,

And his wife a widow.

10Let his children continually be vagabonds, and beg;

Let them seek their bread also from their desolate places.

11Let the creditor seize all that he has,

And let strangers plunder his labor.

12Let there be none to extend mercy to him,

Nor let there be any to favor his fatherless children.

13Let his posterity be cut off,

And in the generation following let their name be blotted out.

14Let the iniquity of his fathers be remembered before the LORD,

And let not the sin of his mother be blotted out.

15Let them be continually before the LORD,

That He may cut off the memory of them from the earth;

16Because he did not remember to show mercy,

But persecuted the poor and needy man,

That he might even slay the broken in heart.

17As he loved cursing, so let it come to him;

As he did not delight in blessing, so let it be far from him.

18As he clothed himself with cursing as with his garment,

So let it enter his body like water,

And like oil into his bones.

19Let it be to him like the garment which covers him,

And for a belt with which he girds himself continually.

20Let this be the LORD’s reward to my accusers,

And to those who speak evil against my person.

Now that’s an angry prayer. Sometimes King David wished some hateful stuff on his enemies. And when people start praying these curses over their rulers, most of the time they’ll stop mid-psalm and say, “Nah; I’m just kidding.” But nah, in their heart of hearts, they aren’t really. Y’ain’t fooling God.

Flee gluttony!

1 Corinthians 6.12-14.

In the beginning of this chapter, Paul and Sosthenes rebuked the Corinthians for dragging one another before Roman courts, then reminded them the Romans weren’t leaders of good character, by listing some of their works of the flesh. (And we might recognize many of these defects of character in our own leaders. We really gotta stop voting for such people.)

The next passage riffs off those fleshly works by rebuking the Corinthians for indulging in some of them. In it, the apostles quote two popular Corinthian slogans:

EVERYTHING’S ALLOWED (πάντα ἔξεστιν/pánta éxestin, KJV “All things are lawful,” NIV “I am allowed to do anything”).

FOODS FOR THE STOMACH, AND THE STOMACH FOR FOODS (τὰ βρώματα τῇ κοιλίᾳ καὶ ἡ κοιλία τοῖς βρώμασιν/ta vrómata ti kilía, ke i kilía tis vrómasin, KJV “Meats for the belly, and the belly for meats,” ESV “Food is meant for the stomach and the stomach for food”).

Because in Corinth, hedonism was a virtue. Nope, it wasn’t just a tourist slogan, like “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas”; it wasn’t just a way to encourage visitors to indulge themselves and boost the economy. This was Cyreniac philosophy: Pleasure, namely physical pleasure, was considered the most important thing in life. Knowledge—meh; what good is it? Stop thinking so hard and enjoy yourself while you can. Have some wine, some hashish, some opium, some sex. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die. 1Co 15.32

So in Corinth, and in many Greek cities, you were permitted to do pretty much anything you pleased. Especially the sexual stuff, which I’ll get into at another time. But you were allowed to eat what you wished, as much as you wished—at least until your belly was full, or your purse was empty. (There’s a popular belief the ancient Romans would eat till full, then go to a “vomitorium” and purge themselves. That’s turned out to be false. Vomitoriums were in fact crowd-control passageways in an amphitheater, not some weird room where you indulged your bulimia—not that bulimia didn’t exist back then, but it wasn’t encouraged. Party food was expensive!)

In contrast Christians, especially we who follow the Holy Spirit, are meant to practice self-control. “Everything’s allowed” unless Jesus forbids it; unless those practices harm others and ourselves. Our “freedom in Christ” isn’t the freedom to do absolutely anything we please, simply because God forgives all. Unfortunately, Christians have taken the opposite attitude throughout history. Still do. Still wrong.

Bible time:

1 Corinthians 6.12-14 KWL

12“Everything’s allowed” to me,

but not everything is appropriate.

“Everything’s allowed” to me,

but I won’t be controlled by anything.

13“Food is for the stomach, and the stomach for food,”

and God will destroy both food and stomach—

and the body isn’t for unchastity, but for the Master,

and the Master for the body.

14God both raises the Master up,

and will raise us up, by his power.

Bummed your candidate lost?

Today is Election Day in the United States, and since elections take time to tabulate (and people whose candidate lost will sometimes refuse to accept the tabulations, and demand they run ’em again, and even then insist something went wrong in the counting process, and sue, and bear false witness against the tabulators for years afterward), the results are often up in the air. It agitates the impatient. But eventually we know who won… and one side or the other is gonna mope about it.

And, same as in every election, the losing side is gonna put on a brave face, say the usual platitudes—“God’s will be done,” and “God is in control,” and “God works out everything for our good,” et cetera, ad nauseam. God’s on the throne, even though their candidate won’t be. They’re very bummed, and sometimes there’s even weeping and gnashing of teeth and rage.

But they put their trust in Jesus. So they say… after the election. They didn’t really do it before. This “God’s in charge” stuff is what people say after they’ve been trusting in an idol, and God just smashed that idol. As he does.

But not all of ’em accept the idea God’s in charge. A number of dissatisfied voters will plot violence, and justify it by claiming God’s will has been frustrated. What comes next? God’s wrath… which always looks not-so-suspiciously like their wrath.

Back during the Barack Obama years I heard an awful lot of rightists talk about wrath. Yeah, it was projection; they were angry, and coveted power, and dreamt of sweet vengeance. Broken idol or not, they’re still idolaters—coveting and worshiping power.

Some of us are just that dense. I sure was.

The 𝘐 𝘊𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘴 list of works of the flesh.

1 Corinthians 6.9-11

In discussing how the Corinthians shouldn’t bring their disputes with one another before corrupt pagan judges, Paul and Sosthenes threw in a list of problematic behaviors that, they reiterate twice, won’t inherit God’s kingdom. 1Co 6.9-10

One can argue the apostles bring up and condemn these behaviors lest the Corinthian Christians think they can get away with practicing them… but for the most part the Christians knew better. I would instead argue they’re listing them because Roman officials did them. We have the ancient biographies; we have the writings of Roman officials of the day. Most were admittedly guilty of at least one of them, and many were guilty of far more than one—if not all.

Here’s the list. And same as the Galatians list of works of the flesh: This is not a list of deadly sins that’ll undo our salvation. This is describing a lifestyle which wants nothing to do with the Holy Spirit and his expectations of goodness in our lives. Resist the Spirit and you resist salvation. So follow the Spirit instead!

1 Corinthians 6.9-11 KWL

9Didn’t you know the unjust won’t inherit God’s kingdom?

Don’t be fooled:

Neither the unchaste, idolaters, adulterers,

catamites, sodomites,

10thieves, the greedy, drunks,

trolls, nor predators, will inherit God’s kingdom.

11Who among you is still like this?

Instead you’re washed. Instead you’re made holy.

Instead you’re declared righteous

in the name of our master, Christ Jesus,

and by the Spirit of our God.

Because it’s a list of words, it means it’s time to bust out the Greek dictionary again, talk about what these words generally meant to ancient Greek speakers, then talk about what the apostles (probably) specifically meant by them. And yeah, I realize “catamites” and “sodomites” come up in verse 9; I’m gonna talk about that too. May as well get neck-deep into that controversy since we’re here.

All Saints Day.

Sometimes, but rarely, you’ll see Halloween spelled Hallowe’en. It’s a reminder the word is actually a contraction. The e’en part of it means evening or eve—the day before, like Christmas Eve. ’Cause Halloween is the day before Hallowmas, or All Hallows… and hallow is the Saxon word for saint.

As you probably remember, the earliest Christians regularly faced persecution in the Roman Empire, ’cause the Romans wanted its occupants to prove their loyalty to Rome by either worshiping the emperor’s guardian dæmon, or in some cases straight-up worship the emperor himself. Some Christians capitulated ’cause they wanted to live; others refused, and were executed. Usually their fellow Christians would honor them on the day of their martyrdom, and these days of remembrance turned into all the saints’ days in the Christian calendar.

But there are so many martyrs. Plus popular saints who got their own day even thought they weren’t killed for Jesus; they definitely lived for Jesus, so to be fair they probably merit a day just as much as certain martyrs who happened to be killed because they were swept up in some anti-Christian purge, and not because they confessed anything.

There’s also the fact there are many people who lived and died for Jesus, and we know nothing about them. God does, but we don’t. People who did a whole lot of charity, but unlike philanthropists who want to make a name for themselves, they wanted to keep their benevolence secret. People who lived very devout lives, but went unseen… or went unappreciated and ignored. People who matter to God.

So if they don’t have their own holiday, they have All Saints Day.

Which likewise tends to go unappreciated and ignored by many Evangelicals. Sometimes because they consider it “a Catholic thing,” a religious custom which they feel contributes nothing to their Christian lives; sometimes because they’re anti-Halloween, and their distaste for that holiday spills over into the holiday which started it.

But properly, we oughta think of it as a Christian version of Memorial Day. It remembers all the people who gave their lives for Jesus. It appreciates them. Some churches, like the liturgical churches, go all out for it. Other churches don’t have to do likewise, nor even celebrate it on 1 November. But it’d be nice if we did something to honor our forebears.

“How do you 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 there’s a God?”

Every so often I’m asked, “How do you know God exists?” or “How do you know there’s a God?”

I’m never asked, “Is there a God?” because people have already made up their minds about that one. Nontheists say no; theists say yes. Agnostics, who claim they aren’t sure one way or the other, frequently act like they’re just gonna presume there’s no God for now, and live accordingly… which is why I lump ’em in with nontheists. I’ve met exceptions, but they’re so rare.

But even though people have their minds made up… some of the theists have doubts. Because they’ve never seen God, and aren’t sure they’ve seen the effects of God. If God exists, and actually did or does stuff in our universe, shouldn’t he be detectable? Really detectable?—we aren’t just claiming certain things are God-things because we’re so desperate to see him in our universe?

This is why they ask, “So how do you know?”

This is the point where Christian apologists make the mistake of going through the logical proofs of God’s existence. Which is actually not what they’re asking for. It’s the fastest way to annoy them. “Well y’see, I know there’s a God because the universe works on cause and effect. So if we trace all the causes back to a first cause…” Yeah, yeah, they didn’t ask for a philosophy lesson.

What they’re really asking is how you know. When they ask me, what they really want is to know how I, me, K.W. Leslie, the guy who talks about God as if he’s a real guy, the guy who talks about God as if I’ve met him personally, know God exists. They wanna know if I have personal experience with God.

Fortunately for them, I do! Met him personally.

No, really.

No, really.

Praying when we suck at prayer.

Years ago I was reading Richard Foster’s Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home, a useful book on prayer. In it he described the most basic, elementary form of prayer he could think of, which he calls “Simple Prayer.” Basically it’s just talking with God. Which is all prayer really is.

But I believe there’s a form of prayer even more elementary than Simple Prayer: It’s what I call the I-Suck-At-Prayer prayer.

It’s the prayer every new Christian prays. The prayer every pagan prays when they’re first giving prayer a test drive. The prayer even longtime Christians stammer when we’re asked to pray aloud, and suddenly we feel we’ve gotta perform… but not overtly. Christians might pray every day and rather often, yet we’ll still pray the I-Suck-At-Prayer Prayer from time to time.

It’s based on discomfort. It’s when we realize we need to pray in a manner we’re not used to.

Maybe we haven’t prayed for ourselves in a while; maybe someone else has been leading our prayers, or we’ve been praying too many rote prayers. Hey, sometimes it’s easier to use the prayer book, or the pre-written prayers in our favorite devotional. There are all these things we never think to pray, and the prayer books get us to pray ’em! But when we get too comfortable with the prayer books, we might slip out of the habit of extemporaneous prayer—praying without a script, talking to God just like we’d talk to anyone, as we should.

Sometimes it’s because we don’t feel worthy of talking to God. We sinned—either it was a really big sin; or it was a little one, but it made us feel unclean, so we put off praying, and now it’s been so long. Or we have a really big thing to ask God, but we don’t feel we’ve yet built up enough Brownie points to cash them in for a big ask. Or we have a really dumb prayer request, and we feel ridiculous asking God for it, ’cause surely he has better things to do.

So we stammer. Stumble. Suffer stage fright. And our prayers become big ol’ apologies to God for how poorly we’re doing. “Forgive my hesitation; I need to pray more often.”

Foster described Simple Prayer as the starting point of prayer. But plenty of people don’t even make it to that starting point. We get too hung up on “I suck at prayer”—too busy apologizing for our inability to express ourselves, too busy flogging ourselves for not praying enough, or “properly.”

I put “properly” in quotes ’cause we Christians often have a screwy idea of what’s proper in prayer, and get way too hard on ourselves because we don’t meet our own unrealistic expectations. Usually we’ve picked up these ideas from “prayer warriors” who make their showy public prayers sound impressive—and people assume our prayers oughta sound like that.

Hence we wind up with Christians who…

• feel we should only pray in King James Version English.
• replace every “um” and “uh” in our speech with “Father God” and “Lord Jesus,” and other names of God.
• pad our prayers because we’re not sure short prayers are effective.
• try to psyche ourselves into a prayer mood because we don’t know the difference between emotional and spiritual.

As I’ve said, prayer is talking with God. Nothing more than that. If we can talk with our family members, we can definitely talk with God. (If you struggle to talk with them, or they’re distant instead of gracious, I get why God might be a problem.) We don’t have to sound formal. We don’t have to speak in bible language. We don’t even have to be articulate—though we should make an effort, ’cause we are trying to communicate after all. We just gotta go find some privacy, open our mouths, and talk with God.

“Why are you bringing each other before corrupt judges?”

1 Corinthians 6.1-8

Paul and Sosthenes have another gripe about the Corinthians, so it merits another chapter. This one isn’t about some guy shtupping his stepmother, but about how certain Corinthians are taking their fellow Christians to court—and how they absolutely shouldn’t. The apostles even go so far as to say they should let themselves be ripped off, 1Co 6.7 rather than take it to court.

And there are plenty of Christians who think this passage still applies to Christians today—and use it to justify handling legal matters in-house, instead of getting police and prosecutors involved. I am not one of them, and I’ll explain why in a bit. Today’s bible passage first.

1 Corinthians 6.1-8 KWL

1One of you¹, having an issue with another one of you,

has the nerve to be judged by the unjust,

and not by the saints?

2Didn’t you² know the saints will judge the world?

And if the world instead judges you²,

aren’t you² unqualified to rule in the smallest cases?

3Didn’t you² know we will judge angels?

Not just the things of daily life!

4So, cases about the things of daily life:

When you² have them,

the people thought the worst of by the church,

you² sit before these people.

5I say shame on you²!

So there’s no one wise among you²?

—who will be able to sort you out in the midst of your¹ family?

6Instead, brother judges against brother,

and all this in front of unbelievers.

7So this truly is a failing among you²—

that you² have judgments against one another.

Why don’t you² let yourselves² be harmed instead?

Why don’t you² let yourselves² be cheated instead?

8Instead you² harm and cheat.

And you do this to family.

Happy Halloween. Bought your candy yet?

For more than a decade I’ve ranted about the ridiculous Evangelical practice of shunning Halloween. I call it ridiculous ’cause it really is: It’s a fear-based, irrational, misinformed, slander-filled rejection of a holiday which is actually a legitimate part of the Christian calendar.

No I’m not kidding. It’s our holiday. Christians invented Halloween.

A perfect opportunity to show Christlike generosity—and give the best candy ever. But too many of us make a serious point of being grouchy, fear-addled spoilsports. [Image swiped from a mommy blog.]

I know; you’ve likely read an article which claims Halloween got its origin in pagan harvest festivals. That’s utter bunk. Some neo-Pagan (one of the capital-P Pagans who worship nature and its gods, whose religions date from the 1960s, even though they claim they’re revivals of ancient pre-Christian religions) started to claim we Christians swiped it from them, and Christianized it. There’s no historical evidence whatsoever for this claim, but they keep claiming it. Gullible reporters repeat it every year when they write about the history of Halloween.

The story has always been hearsay, but it’s been passed around so long, people actually try to debunk me by quoting 20-year-old articles which claim Halloween was originally Samhain or some other pagan festival. But those old articles were poorly sourced. Incorrect then; incorrect now.

Samhain (pronounced 'saʊ.ən) is a contraction of sam fuin/“summer’s end.” It’s a Celtic harvest festival which dates back to pre-Christian times. It happens at the autumnal equinox, which took place last month, on 22 September. It’s totally unrelated to Halloween. It’s as if you claimed the Fourth of July was originally a celebration of the summer solstice… and the fact you barbecue and drink beer on that day, just like the ancients regularly used to cook meat and drink beer, proves it.

Oh, and neither neo-Pagan nor Christian holidays involve a celebration of creepy horror movie themes. That got added in the 20th century.

How long does hell last?

As I explained in my article “The four hells,” there are four words translated hell in the scriptures, and the one I mean by “hell” is Gehenna, the trash fire outside Jerusalem, reimagined in Revelation as a pool of fire and sulfur outside New Jerusalem. Rv 20.10-15 Into it go Satan and its angels, the Beast, the fake prophet who promotes the Beast, the personifications of Death and Hades (i.e. the afterlife), and everyone whose name isn’t listed in the life scroll—everyone who refused to accept God’s gracious offer ofhis kingdom.

The Beast and prophet are explicitly described as being “tortured there, day and night, age to ages.” Rv 20.10 Y’notice even though this lake is known as “the second death,” Rv 20.14 it doesn’t have a sense of finality like physical death. Generally death feels like an absolute stopping point—when you’re dead, you’re not alive, you’re not moving, you’re not breathing, you’re not thinking, you’re not anything; you’re dead. Whereas the second death sounds more like the beings sent into it aren’t inert, but moving, conscious… and suffering from eternal torment. Because they’re in fire. Everlasting fire, as the King James Version put it. Mt 25.41 KJV Where quite unlike the trash fires of the literal Gehenna, the worms don’t die, and the fire never goes out. Is 66.24, Mk 9.48

Yeah, I know: Certain dark Christians who love this idea of eternal conscious torment. That’s why it’s been the prevailing view throughout Christian history. Often because there are certain people they’d love to see tortured forever. Satan obviously, but a lot of them are thinking of certain political opponents—and I don’t necessarily mean government politicos, but anyone with whom they’ve struggled for power. Difficult neighbors. Workplace foes and cruel bosses. Church ladies who weren’t as Christlike as you’d expect. We all have people we don’t like. But… longing to see them burn forever? What is wrong with these people? Since God doesn’t wanna see anyone perish, 2Pe 3.9 and these people do, this sort of fleshly, fruitless gracelessness suggests these people don’t have any real relationship with God, much as they claim to. I don’t care what they call themselves.

The other reason they love the idea of eternal torment—a reason which is slightly more legit than t’other—is because they figure it’s a powerful motivator for getting people into God’s kingdom. If anyone’s on the fence about this idea of living under Jesus’s reign in peace and harmony (mainly ’cause the church is full of a--holes like me), Christians can point out the alternative: Outside the kingdom, it’s hot, stinky hell. You don’t wanna go to hell! We don’t want you there either; God doesn’t want you there either; why go there when you don’t have to? Don’t worry about the jerks in the church; Jesus’ll deal with them. Focus on Jesus. Turn to him. Let him save you.

The rest of us really don’t love the idea of eternal torment. Problem is, we don’t really see any way around it. That’s what Jesus describes in the scriptures. So that’s the reality we’re obligated to deal with: When people reject Jesus, that’s the destination they’ve effectively chosen. If people prefer a cosmetic relationship with Christianity over a living relationship with Jesus, that’s where they’re going.

It’s not like we can make up a reality we like better. (Although that’s certainly never stopped people from trying, has it?)

“Nobody wants to talk about hell anymore.”

There’s a church in town whose members really love to leave gospel tracts in my local Walmart. They especially like the really bitter, bilious tracts—the ones which inform people IN ALL CAPS that they’re totally going to hell. That is, unless they give up all their favorite things, reject the pope and all his works, and turn to Jesus. You know, typical dark Christian tracts. Especially the ones full of half-truths and conspiracy theories, ’cause they’re those kinds of wackjobs.

This particular tract caught my attention because it began with the line, “Nobody wants to talk about hell anymore.”

Sure hasn’t been my experience! Dark Christians love to talk about hell, and speculate about who’s going there, and why. Unsurprisingly it’s for doing all the things they hate, which they’re entirely sure are sins, and entirely sure Jesus doesn’t like ’em either. So they figure he’s sending them to hell. They figure he’s sending a lot of people to hell. Most people. Maybe 90 percent of the world. Not them, though!

Which “hell” does the bible mean?

As I said in my article, “The four hells,” there are three ancient Greek words we tend to translate “hell.” (Plus one Hebrew word.) These three words mean three different things… and none of them mean the pop culture idea of hell which we find in movies, TV shows, and the “Hell House” and “Judgment Day” pageants which conservative Evangelicals like to host around Halloween. Satan’s not waiting for dead sinners in some otherworldly fiery pit, ready to throw them into the flames. Satan itself is getting thrown into the flames. But that comes much later.

Okay, but in the meanwhile, if your favorite bible translation insists, as many do, in translating all these four different words as “hell,” exactly which hell are they talking about? Glad you asked. Here’s my handy-dandy chart for determining which hell they mean.

The four hells.

C.S. Lewis famously wrote a book called The Four Loves, about four of the five Greek words which tend to be translated “love.” Two are in the New Testament—ἀγάπη/agápi and φίλος/fílos. Two aren’t; they’re in the Septuagint, and only teachers of classic literature like Lewis would know ’em; ἔρος/éros and στοργή/storyí. There’s another Greek word, ξενία/xenía, which has some related words in the Septuagint… but Lewis only cared to highlight the first four, talk about their differences in meaning, and riff from them about how people “love” in different ways.

People hear of this book and assume, “Wow, Greek is so precise and exact. It’s got four different words for love!” Yeah… but so do we. These five words can easily be translated charity, friendship, romance, affection, and courtesy. Plus check out any thesaurus; you’ll find we have way more than five words for love. English is just as precise as we want it be.

I say this by way of introduction: There are three ancient Greek words we tend to translate “hell.” Problem is—same as with “love”—translators won’t always bother to distinguish between them. Some bibles do, and good on ’em. But whether our bible translations do or don’t, it’s important Christians know there’s a difference.

’Cause I’ve discovered Christians have no idea there’s a difference. Nor that they’re describing different things. Nor that none of them describe popular culture’s idea of hell as a dark, torturous underworld for bad people.

I said there were three words, right? So why’d I title this article “The four hells”? Well the fourth hell is pop culture hell. I’m gonna deal with that idea first.

Praying for your homeland without getting all nationalist.

Many churches pray for the country they’re in. Every Sunday morning, during the worship service. Mine doesn’t; we pray for the United States, or California (where we live, obviously), whenever there’s a serious crisis, like hurricanes, wildfires, floods, mass shootings, and so forth. Our prayer team does pray for our homeland on a regular basis, but otherwise it’s up to each individual Christian to remember to do it. Some of us do; some don’t.

But we should! All of us should. The people of our homelands need Jesus. Need to recognize their need for him. Oughta be encouraged to seek and follow him.

And yeah, of course, we oughta pray for the usual civic problems. Pray for our leaders to govern wisely. Pray for obvious supernatural answers to civic problems which’ll get people to give God credit, and glory. Pray for elections; that voters will choose leaders of good character, and partisans will respect the rule of law and let the election happen without incident. (Used to be we didn’t have to pray for that last thing, but times change. Namely because voters didn’t choose leaders of good character.)

The only problem with praying for our homeland, of course, is an influence which corrupts Christianity all the time, and therefore corrupts our prayers. It’s nationalism, the racist belief our country should only consist of, or be ruled by, people of one race; namely the race of the nationalists. And of course there’s the “Christian” variant, Christian nationalism, which focuses less on race and more on religion, and insists our country should only be inhabited and led by Christians. Because if it isn’t, claim Christian nationalists, God gets upset and bad things are gonna happen to us.

Obviously the prayers of Christian nationalists are gonna look way different from the sort of prayers Jesus will suggest. Their prayers exclude; his includes. Their prayers condemn and vilify; his forgives and loves. Their prayers are all about our homeland becoming great; his are that God’s will is done, on earth as it is in heaven, and heaven has no border patrol.

So if you’re in a church where the pastor and prayer leaders are nationalists, praying along with them for our homeland is gonna prove a giant waste of time; y’all are praying for stuff which runs contrary to God’s will. Hope you’re not in such a church! And if you’re not, feel free to join in with their prayers for our country and state. If they’re praying for God’s grace and compassion for the world, by all means pray that too.

Christian nationalism: The civic idolater’s religion.

NATIONALISM 'næʃ.(ə.)nəl.ɪz.əm noun. Belief a particular ethnic group (i.e. nation) should be congruent with the state, or be supreme within it; and the state’s native identity must share this ethnic group’s characteristics.

2. Exalting one ethnic group above all others; promoting its culture and interests above (or against) those of other ethnic or multinational groups.

[Nationalist 'næʃ.(ə.)nəl.ɪst noun.]

CHRISTIAN NATIONALISM noun. Belief Christians should be congruent with the state, or be supreme within it; and the state’s native identity must share Christianity’s characteristics.

2. Exalting Christians above all others; promoting its culture and interests above (or against) those of other religions and philosophies.

Let’s not mince words: Nationalism is a racist belief. Period.

French nationalists believe France should only consist of ethnic French people. To them, any immigrants from Algeria, Spain, Switzerland, or any other country aren’t really French, even if they were born in France, speak fluent French, have French citizenship, and contribute to society. In fact French nationalists would really rather they didn’t contribute to society, ’cause they’re “not really French.”

Turkish nationalists: Same deal. Israeli nationalists: Same deal; if you’re not Jewish you’re not really Israeli. United States nationalists: Same deal, except instead of insisting Americans be native Americans (i.e. American Indians) they insist the only real Americans are white English-speaking Anglo-Saxons like them. And they’d really like it if everybody else would just “go back to where you’re from,” and thereby make America great again. (By which they mean white again. As if it was ever only white.)

Now yeah, there are various conservatives who admit they’re nationalist, but insist they’re not racist; they’re perfectly fine with nonwhite Americans! Some of their best friends are nonwhites! The United States is a melting pot; diversity is one of our strengths; immigrants make some of the best Americans; most of all they love ethnic food. They even have nonwhite relatives.

So why on earth do they identify themselves as nationalists? Well they’re Christian nationalists. It’s the very same idea the racists have… but now let’s swap out all the racism for Christianity. To them, the United States should only consist of Christians. Any immigrants with other religions need to abandon those religions at the border, and either embrace Christianity or recognize its supremacy in American culture. And not resist that supremacy: They can practice their weird religions in private or in secret, but they must always remember America is a Christian nation.

Oh, I should mention many Christian nationalists don’t swap out all the racism for Christianity. Sometimes the racism’s still right there. They’re not so sure nonwhite Christians are real Christians… otherwise why wouldn’t they attend their nice white conservative churches? Why would they dare vote for liberal causes? Nope; if they were real Christians they’d conform to white churches and conservative causes.

And other Christian nationalists are fully aware they’re racist, and always have been. They want the United States to be a country for white Christians… but they find they get more traction if they emphasize the Christianity part and downplay the racism. Privately, they’ll tell you all about it.

No, nationalism isn’t just extreme patriotism. Some of the lousier dictionaries will define it that way… and some Christians will define it that way ’cause they don’t really understand what nationalism is. They just think it sounds patriotic. It’s got “nation” in it! But they don’t understand “nation” doesn’t merely mean country; it often means ethnic group. It’s about race. Christian nationalism may borrow the racist term, but it still comes with all the racist baggage. Hence Christian nationalism has racism deeply embedded in it. Deeply.

“Why are you permitting blatant immorality?”

1 Corinthians 5.

Today’s passage is a whole chapter. It’s short, but yep, it’s a chapter.

It’s a little controversial among certain Christians—for the very same reason Paul and Sosthenes had to write it to the Corinthians. It has to do with sexual misbehavior in Corinth’s church, which Paul felt had gone beyond the pale—but the Corinthians were tolerating it, ’cause grace. And nuh-uh; that’s not how grace works.

I’ll start with where the apostles set up the scenario.

1 Corinthians 5.1-5 KWL

1Unchastity among you²

is getting reported everywhere—

the kind of unchastity

which isn’t even approved by gentiles—

with a man having his father’s woman.

2You² people are arrogant;

and don’t, more appropriately, mourn,

about how you² should remove from among you²

the one doing this work?

3For I, though absent in the body,

being present in spirit,

like one who’s present,

have already condemned this behavior.

4In the name of our master, Christ Jesus,

when you² are gathered together with my spirit,

in the power of our master Jesus,

5hand over such a person to Satan

for the flesh’s destruction,

so the spirit might be saved

on the Lord Jesus’s day.

I translate the word πορνεία/porneía as “unchastity,” because that’s precisely what it means. Chastity means appropriate sexual activity; porneía is the opposite. Yes, people tend to define chastity to mean celibacy—no sexual activity at all—and that’s inaccurate. If you’re a clergy member who took a vow of celibacy, as some have, that’s what chastity means for you—you gotta keep your vows! But for every other Christian, chastity just means monogamy. You and your partner only have sex with one another, and don’t deprive one another, yet don’t make your partner do anything they consider immoral or don’t want. (It’s about loving one another, not personal gratification.)

Chastity also means you can’t just partner up with anyone, like promiscuous people will. Stay away from people who don’t or won’t or can’t love you. Stay away from people who demand you prioritize them over Jesus. And of course, avoid someone who already has a partner; and no close family members, whether by blood, marriage, or adoption.

Anyway if you know the myth of Oedipus of Thebes—and of course the Corinthians knew it, ’cause Thebes was a longtime ally, and only 85km away—you’ll know it’s an icky story. The king of Thebes had a son; his son was prophesied to kill his father and marry his mother; the king was horrified and had the baby abandoned in the woods. Except the shepherd who was supposed to abandon him, didn’t. Oedipus was adopted by a different royal family, fled from them as soon as he learned the prophecy… and happened upon his birth parents, and unwittingly fulfilled the prophecy. And the gods cursed Thebes with a plague because of it—because even pagans thought that was nasty.

Yet here it was, happening right there in the Corinthian church. And the Corinthians were letting it happen.

The Johnson amendment, and preaching the wrong kingdom.

Despite the name, the National Religous Broadcasters isn’t just national, isn’t just religious, and isn’t just broadcasters. (It was founded in 1944, but it kept the original name.) It’s international now; it’s exclusively Christian; and of course in the internet age you gotta allow for more than just radio and TV broadcasts. It was founded in part to fight the Federal Council of Churches’ 1943 takeover of the religious programming of radio networks; nowadays it’s more of a support group for Evangelical media creators.

I bring ’em up because they’re suing the Internal Revenue Service, the tax-gathering agency of the U.S. federal government. Their argument is the IRS is inconsistently applying the Johnson Amendment to non-profits, and should just do away with it altogether.

Yeah, I’d better explain in more detail for people who aren’t familiar with any of that.

In the United States we have a Constitutional right to freedom of religion. And to keep the Feds and states from hassling churches by taxing their finances, churches are encouraged to become tax-free nonprofit organizations. We call them 501(c)(3) organizations, named for the specific subsection of Title 26 of the United States Code which defines ’em. For your convenience, I’ll quote it. Warning: Legalese.

Corporations, and any community chest, fund, or foundation, organized and operated exclusively for religious, charitable, scientific, testing for public safety, literary, or educational purposes, or to foster national or international amateur sports competition (but only if no part of its activities involve the provision of athletic facilities or equipment), or for the prevention of cruelty to children or animals, no part of the net earnings of which inures to the benefit of any private shareholder or individual, no substantial part of the activities of which is carrying on propaganda, or otherwise attempting, to influence legislation (except as otherwise provided in subsection (h)), and which does not participate in, or intervene in (including the publishing or distributing of statements), any political campaign on behalf of (or in opposition to) any candidate for public office. 26 USC §501(c)(3)

In simpler English:

1. None of your org’s incoming money should be controlled by, or benefit, one individual. Like the head pastor. Your church shouldn’t be merely a promotional tool to help your pastor get speaking engagements and sell books and videos. Nor should it spend all its money enriching your pastors, yet do little to no ministry.
2. The church shouldn’t spend “a substantial part” of its money (and other laws define how big is “substantial”) on pushing its politics: Promoting causes or lobbying government.
3. The church can’t promote a political candidate or campaign.

The Johnson amendment is the “which does not participate in, or intervene in… any political campaign,” etc. It’s named after Lyndon Johnson, who was still a senator when he got it passed in 1954. It applies to every 501(c)(3) nonprofit; not just churches. It wasn’t controversial when it was first passed, because back in the ’50s most pastors recognized politics is a dirty business, and didn’t wanna soil themselves in it.

But not anymore! Back in February, the NRB even had former president and current presidential candidate Donald Trump speak at their annual convention. He’s offering to overturn that pesky Johnson amendment if only they’d return him to power. “All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me,” he told them. Mt 4.9 Or something like that.

The NRB hasn’t officially endorsed Trump, but you know they wanna. Well, they’re trying to get rid of the amendment; if they succeed, they certainly can.

And lots of partisan pastors and churches would love to promote political candidates right from the pulpit. Would love to denounce the opposition party and its politicans, and call ’em tools of Satan. Would love to sway their entire congregations to vote their way. Some of ’em do it anyway, willingly risking their nonprofit status, figuring the IRS might not do anything if the people of their congregation never tell on ’em. Others have voluntarily given up their nonprofit status, pay taxes, say whatever they please, and roll around in politics like pigs in poo.

Patriarchy: When fathers ruled the earth.

PATRIARCHY 'peɪ.tri.ɑrk.i noun. System of governance in which the father, or eldest male, is ruler.

2. System wherein women are largely excluded from positions of authority.

[Patriarchal 'peɪ.tri.ɑr.kəl adjective.]

When people talk about patriarchy nowadays, they tend to mean the second definition above: The system is rigged in such a way that women can’t find their way into any official or significant positions of leadership. There is no way into it. At most they can have unofficial power, like a First Lady; they can have insignificant power, like being in charge of cleaning the break room. (Gee, what an honor.) But never any serious authority. The “old boys’ network” keeps shutting them out.

Obviously because the “old boys” don’t wanna work with women. Especially don’t wanna work for women. Doesn’t matter the reasons; they’re all different forms of sexism. It’s a way-too-common problem in the present day. But actually sexism isn’t what this article is about. (Not primarily. Sexism doesn’t have to be part of patriarchy. But it nearly always is.)

What I’m writing about is the first definition: The government we see among the early Hebrews, in the families of Noah, Abraham, and Jacob before the Law was handed down; and to a lesser degree the system we see in families thereafter. Before there were judges and kings, before there were cities and nations and empires, before there was anything, there were families. The families were led and ruled by the father or eldest male: The patriarch.

Now, we Americans grew up under democracy. When we’re in a situation where there’s no leadership, we often figure, “Okay, we’ll take a vote.” All of us are equal, so the majority should rule, right? If one of us tries to assume power, we object, ’cause that’s not fair. But that’s because we were raised to be democratic. The ancients weren’t. Popular vote didn’t rule the day; the strongest or loudest or most dangerous did. This is Darwinism at its simplest.

The one best able to strike down his foes dwas usually the physically strongest; the man. And in order to maintain power, patriarchy was the system these men put into place. The man, the father of the family, the paterfamilias, ruled. They taught their kids this was the way things worked. So whereas our culture falls back on democracy to decide things, theirs fell back on patriarchy.

It wasn’t egalitarian; spouses got no equal say. Wasn’t democratic, where the kids got a vote too. It was a dictatorship. What the patriarch decided, was how things were. No one to overrule him, no constitution to say he violated civil rights, no legislature to control his behavior, no police to stop him. If he decided he was taking a second or third or hundredth wife, he did. If he forbade his daughter from marrying a certain man, she had to obey. If he ordered his son put to death for disobedience, off with his head. Seriously.

And there are a number of Christians who read about these “good old days” in the bible, and wouldn’t mind returning to them. Oh, I’ll get to those guys.

The Revised Version, and the American Standard Version.

In my article about other English-language bibles in the 1600s and 1700s, I mentioned how your average King James Version fan isn’t aware there even were other bible translations back then. They think John Wycliffe translated it first; then it was followed up by a bunch of really bad translations; then King James ordered a proper translation and that’s the KJV. They know nothing about the Geneva Bible. Nor any of the other translations which followed. They just presume once the KJV was translated, absolutely everyone used it. (Except Catholics. And heretics.)

Of course there are dozens of English-language translations today. So some years ago I asked my bible class whether they knew what the next popular English-language bible after the KJV was. Most said, “Um… the NIV?” Nope, not the 1978 New International Version. But I’ve since found lots of people give the NIV as their answer.

I grew up in the ’70s, so I remember we had a lot of translations to choose from back then. Mom had a parallel bible, which came in handy whenever the KJV was hard to understand; it had the KJV in one column, the 1969 Modern Language Bible in another, the 1971 Living Bible in another, and the 1952 Revised Standard Version in another. My first bible was a KJV, but I later got a 1976 Good News Bible. And I remember coming across the 1971 New American Standard Bible, the 1966 Jerusalem Bible, and J.B. Phillips’ 1958 The New Testament in Modern English. No doubt some of you can think of others.

Some of the folks in my class remembered the NASB, and I asked them whether they recalled an old American Standard Bible. None of ’em really did. But that’s the one I’m gonna write about today—and its immediate predecessor, the 1885 Revised Version. (RV for short. Sometimes it’s called the English Revised Version, or ERV, but nah, I’m not gonna call it that.)

What’d it revise? The King James Version.

(Why didn’t they therefore call it the New King James Version? Well in the Church of England, they tend to call it the Authorized Version instead of the KJV; and it was the official bible of the church, so they simply called it the Revised Version… leaving NKJV up for grabs a century later.)

The convocation of Canterbury is one of the regular general assemblies of the Church of England. On 6 May 1870 the convocation created a committee to revise the King James Version. The goal was “to adapt King James’ version to the present state of the English language without changing the idiom and the vocabulary,” and update it to “the present standard of biblical scholarship.”

Why then? Well, archaeology had recently been invented—and by “recently” I mean in the past 25 years or so. Rather than dig through ruins and graves looking for treasures, anthropologists were looking for data, information about how people used to live. Great advances had been made in interpreting unfamiliar ancient langauges. And Christian anthropologists went looking for ancient copies of the bible—and found many.

Much more had therefore been discovered about the first century’s culture and practices, and methods of Greek translation. And when bible scholars compared the newly-discovered bible manuscripts to the the Majority Text and Textus Receptus, they immediately saw the defects of those medieval bibles: Why on earth were they using a bible translation based on a Greek New Testament that was a compliation of every textual variant its editors could find? Why wasn’t it, properly, based on the oldest copies of the scriptures there are?—which they had in their very own British Museum.

And since the Church of England listened to its scholars (heck, made bishops of them), once enough of ’em decided it was time to revise the King James Version, they did.

The “𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘴 31 woman.”

PROVERBS 31 WOMAN 'prɑ.vərbz 'θɜr.di 'wʌn 'wʊ.mən noun. A productive woman, like the ideal wife described in Proverbs 31.

2. A compliment offered to a valued wife. (Whether or not she matches the woman of Proverbs 31.)

Among many Christians, the ultimate compliment you can pay your wife is to call her a “Proverbs 31 woman.”

Properly, it means she meets the bible’s standard for an ideal wife. (More specifically, Lemuel’s mother’s standard; more about Lemuel and his mom in a bit.) And since people don’t bother to read their bibles, Christians included, they really just mean she’s a good Christian. Whether she’s anything like the Proverbs 31 passage is a whole other deal.

Yeah, I’ll quote the passage. It’s not the whole of the chapter; it’s just this bit.

Proverbs 31.10-31 KWL

10A capable woman! Who’s found one?

She‘s worth far more than rubies.

11Her husband’s heart trusts her,

and he has no shortage of loot.

12 She pays him back with good, not evil, all her life’s days.

13She asks for wool and flax.

She’s happy to work with her hands.

14She’s like a merchant ship:

She imports food.

15She rises when it’s still night.

She provides meat for her house and her employees.

16She organizes a field.

She plants a vineyard with the fruit of her hands.

17She belts herself with strength.

She makes her arms strong.

18She tastes her merchandise to make sure it’s good.

Her lamp isn’t put out at night.

19She puts her hands on the spindle.

Her palms hold the distaff.

20Her palms spread for the humble.

Her hands reach out to the needy.

21She doesn’t fear snow for her household:

All her house are warmly clothed in red.

22She knits herself tapestries.

Her clothing is purple.

23Her husband is recognized at the city gates.

He sits with the land’s elders.

24She makes and sells tunics.

She gives belts to Canaanites.

25Her clothing is strength and honor.

She will relax in days to come.

26Her mouth is opened in wisdom.

The Law of kindness is on her tongue.

27She watches the goings-on of her house.

She doesn’t eat bread idly.

28Her children rise and call her happy.

Her husband praises her:

29“Many daughters do well,

but you surpass all of them!”

30Grace can be false.

Loveliness is useless.

A woman who respects the LORD will be praised.

31Give her back the fruit of her hands,

and her deeds will praise her in the city gates.

Check it out. Only once does her devotion to God come up; in verse 30. But no doubt her good deeds are the result of loving God and wanting to excel for his sake. Even so, the bulk of this passage is about the fact this woman works. Works hard. Gets stuff done, and does it well.

When our heroes stumble. Or sin. Or sin big-time.

Had to resist the temptation to title this article, “There goes my hero; watch him as he goes.” You’ll see why.

This week I came across two cases of a person—a person many people greatly admire—failing. One’s Christian; one’s pagan. I admit I wouldn’t’ve seen any connection between the two, except I read an article about the pagan that just sounded… well, startlingly familiar.

Starting with the pagan, ’cause I read about him first. I don’t expect all my readers to know who rock star Dave Grohl is. You might’ve heard of his first band, Nirvana; you might’ve heard of his current band, Foo Fighters. Both bands have been very successful. I still listen to their music. (No, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna.) Grohl announced recently that, once again, he’s gonna be a father. Mazel tov!… except it turns out the mother of his new baby isn’t his wife, and he’s filing for divorce from said wife, and his adult kids have turned off their social media accounts because they don’t wanna deal with his upset fans. I don’t blame ’em.

Yes, his fans are upset. Grohl has a reputation as a family man. Unlike most rock stars, who leave the wife and kids at home, go on the road, and partly like… well, obviously rock stars, Grohl and his bandmates deliberately brought their families with them. Hey, they’re rich; why not? For that matter why don’t other rock stars?—other than the obvious reasons of road-trip infidelity. But Grohl kinda showcased the fact the band’s families were traveling with them, and even had his kids come on stage and play along. Fun to watch! So his fans grew used to thinking of Grohl as a good guy and loyal husband.

And maybe he was loyal. I don’t really know him; neither do his fans, no matter what they might imagine. For all we know he might’ve separated from his wife years ago, and just kept it private. Or he might’ve cheated on her constantly. I’ve no idea.

Either way, I’m not gonna judge Grohl. I have no business doing any such thing. Maybe he has legit reasons for what happened, but even if they aren’t—to me anyway—he’s not Christian! He doesn’t answer to Jesus; he certainly doesn’t answer to me. If he wants to end things with his wife and be with someone else, he can. Society will judge him for it, and society doesn’t do grace, so that sucks. (Then again too many Christians don’t do grace either. But that’s another rant.)

When I first heard this news (’cause this made the news; I didn’t read it on any gossip blog) my knee-jerk reaction was, “Aw, that’s too bad.” Divorce sucks.

But then I read a certain article on an entertainment website.

Sin kills. God offers life. (Ro 6.23)

Romans 6.23 KJV

For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Whenever we Christians are encouraged to memorize verses, the verses typically fall into three categories:

• Verses which explain our salvation. They help us understand it better—plus we can use ’em to share Jesus with others!
• Verses which help us improve our behavior. Like teachings of Jesus, the prophets, and the apostles; stuff that reminds us what the right thing is, and to do it.
• Verses which make us feel warm and fuzzy inside, ’cause God loves us and offers us his kingdom. (Or, all too often, make us feel good and self-righteous for less legitimate reasons. Like God approving of us no matter what awful stuff we’ve gotten into. Or he’s gonna give us wealth, or smite our enemies, or supports our politics, or other ungodly stuff.)

Today’s memory verse kinda does all three. It comes at the end of Paul’s larger discussion about goodness. In the past, pagan Romans used to do as they pleased, and usually that meant sinning their brains in. Now that these particular Romans are Christians, they mustn’t be like that anymore. And it applies just the same to Christians today: Before we came to Jesus, we likewise lived like pagans. But Jesus expects better of us.

Why leave your church?

At some point, Christians might have to switch churches.

It happens! Happened to me more than once. I move to new cities from time to time, for work or school; that’s an obvious reason right there. Said goodbye to the folks of my previous church; it was sad. Then off I went to the new city, to find a new one.

Happened to me again recently: The church building was ruined, so the entire church—pastor, board members, everybody—started going to one of our sister churches in town. And that’s where I am now.

Christians switch churches for all sorts of reasons. Some good, some bad. Some valid, some not. I’ll give you some examples.

GOOD REASONS	BAD REASONS	IFFY REASONS
• God personally tells you to go elsewhere.	• You don’t get along with somebody there.	• You don’t like their liturgical style, preaching style, or music.
• They kicked you out.	• They’re not cool anymore. Or cool enough.	• You want a bigger/smaller church.
• Church leaders aren’t trustworthy. Sinning, abusive, fruitless, jerklike, and unrepentant. Or they’re just not doing their jobs, and won’t let anyone help.	• They won’t let you lead, or otherwise get your way.	• Your kids don’t like it there, and don’t wanna go.
• Church members aren’t trustworthy either, and the leadership does nothing about it.	• Meh; church is optional. Sleep, sports, recreation—even doing nothing at all—feel like better options than going anymore.	• You’re “not getting fed.” Or “not feeling the Spirit.” Or are otherwise bored.
• They’re dark Christians: Everything they do is driven by fear, worry, and anger. Not love.	• They’re not political enough.	• You visited another church, and they felt far more right for you.
• They’re too legalistic, demanding, judgmental… and if you don’t obey or conform, they have penalties. (Yep, they’re a cult.)	• You’ve burned way too many bridges there. Time for a fresh start!	• You want a bigger church, with more programs and resources.
• Your spouse has had enough of that church, now goes elsewhere, and isn’t coming back. Period.	• They denounce sin—particularly the sins you commit. Whatever happened to “judge not”?	• You want a smaller church, ’cause you feel lost in the big crowd.
• You’re getting a job at another church.	• They want you to give ’em money all the time. Shouldn’t church be free?	• There’s a radical change in mission, emphasis, focus, or denomination—and you can’t get behind it.
• You’re moving to another city. Or the church moves to another city.	• They won’t let you lead, won’t put you in charge of stuff, won’t otherwise let you get your way.
• Some disaster destroys the church.

You can probably think of more reasons than these.

You might take issue with some of the things I listed. I’ve known more than one partisan Christian who’s insistent their church really oughta start talking politics! Particularly their politics. And if it doesn’t, it’s somehow supporting “the kingdom of this world” over and against “the kingdom of God.” Supposedly when Jesus overthrows all the governments of the world at his second coming, he’s gonna make an exception for their party. But partisans regularly, naïvely confuse their parties with Jesus, and would absolutely place politics in the “good reasons” column. I won’t.

Likewise I’ve known Christians who insist stylistic choices don’t matter at all. Doesn’t matter if you hate the music, or can’t stand the preaching, or the kids absolutely hate the youth group kids and youth pastor and would rather be anywhere else: That’s your church, and you stay there, no matter what. Even if you’re completely miserable there: It’s where God put you, and apparently God’s a giant sadist… except he’s not. At all. What’re you doing in a church which makes you miserable? Earning karma points for suffering? Leave!

And likewise I’ve known Christians who don’t want people to make lists like this. How dare we judge and critique churches? They’re meant to judge us, not the other way round. Which is an attitude I obviously don’t share whatsoever.

Figuring out what God wants.

“I just wanna go God’s will for my life.” I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard kids and new Christians say this.

They hear it preached all the time: “God has a wonderful plan for your life! Just seek his face.” So… they try. They pray. They worship. ’Cause that’s what popular Christian culture tells them “seeking God’s face” consists of: Prayer and worship. And yeah, these two things do in fact “seek his face.” But for newbies, these activites are not actually gonna help ’em learn what God’s will is.

And you’re gonna find a lot of newbies—and a lot of longtime Christians!—have given up on the idea God’s plan is even knowable. Some of ’em even claim God’s plan deliberately isn’t knowable; it’s a secret. God has a secret will for your life—and for that matter, the whole universe, which he’s micromanaged all the way down to every single atom. He keeps it a secret because—let’s face it—there’s no way we can fathom it in all its complexity. God is thinking a trillion steps ahead. If he clued us in, just a little, it’d blow our minds.

(Or, which is more likely, we’d respond like a backseat driver: “You know what you oughta do, God, is this…” and try to steer the Almigthy in the direction we want, instead of the direction he wants. But since we only have the smallest fraction of knowledge about the infinite cosmos, we’re really in no position to judge how God rules things.

“It’s way beyond me,” these Christians’ll say, like the TobyMac song goes. And true, the song’s about how God stretches us beyond where we’re comfortable… but too many Christians use this “way beyond me” idea as an excuse to become know-nothings, who don’t seek God’s face because God-knowledge might be too hard for us. It’s rubbish—and honestly, for a lot of people, it’s pure hypocrisy. ’Cause knowing God’s will for our lives might, just might, mean we have to change. And they don’t wanna change.

But the scriptures teach us to change.

Romans 12.1-2 CSB

1Therefore, brothers and sisters, in view of the mercies of God, I urge you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God; this is your true worship. 2Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God.

If learning God’s will—God’s perfect will—isn’t possible, why would Paul advise the Romans to do it?

Nope, God’s will is not beyond us. He’s made it available: You know what Jesus teaches. If you don’t, read your bible. Then do that.

The Feeding Five Thousand story.

Mark 6.38-44, Matthew 14.17-21, Luke 9.13-17.

This story also takes place in the gospel of John, but I tell John’s version of it elsewhere. Today I’m focusing on the way the synoptic gospels tell it. John’s emphasis, honestly, is on Jesus’s Bread of Life teachings later in the chapter. The synoptics… well, you’ll see.

The Feeding Five Thousand story is basically Jesus’s riff on a similar situation with Elisha ben Šafat.

2 Kings 4.1-7 NLT

1One day the widow of a member of the group of prophets came to Elisha and cried out, “My husband who served you is dead, and you know how he feared the LORD. But now a creditor has come, threatening to take my two sons as slaves.”

2“What can I do to help you?” Elisha asked. “Tell me, what do you have in the house?”

“Nothing at all, except a flask of olive oil,” she replied.

3And Elisha said, “Borrow as many empty jars as you can from your friends and neighbors. 4Then go into your house with your sons and shut the door behind you. Pour olive oil from your flask into the jars, setting each one aside when it is filled.”

5So she did as she was told. Her sons kept bringing jars to her, and she filled one after another. 6Soon every container was full to the brim!

“Bring me another jar,” she said to one of her sons.

“There aren’t any more!” he told her. And then the olive oil stopped flowing.

7When she told the man of God what had happened, he said to her, “Now sell the olive oil and pay your debts, and you and your sons can live on what is left over.”

God multiplied oil to bail out this prophet. God can likewise multiply food to feed the big crowd who’d accumulated to listen to Jesus’s teaching.

Often this story’s titled, “Jesus Feeds Five Thousand.” And yeah, I can understand how you’d get that idea if all you read was the John version. Now, pay closer attention to the text and you’ll notice something.

The Feeding Five Thousand story, in 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯.

John 6.8-13.

The way preachers tell this story, some boy volunteered his lunch, and Jesus multiplied it. I certainly hope the boy volunteered his lunch, because the text actually doesn’t say he did! The word for boy, παιδάριον/pedárion, is also slang for “slave,” and it’s entirely possible this was a slave’s lunch—and back then, people regularly forgot their manners with slaves, so it’s entirely possible one of Jesus’s students saw the lunch, said “Gimme that lunch!” and brought it to Jesus.

And yeah, we’d expect Jesus to respond to such behavior, “What is wrong with you? ‘Thou shalt not steal.’ We were just talking about that command last Tuesday. Go sit over there and think about what you’ve done. Son, I apologize for my student. Can I borrow your lunch? I promise I’ll give back even more.” But okay, let’s presume Jesus’s students knew better than to do any such thing.

The reason I translated ἄρτους/ártus, “breads,” as “pitas” is because that’s quite likely what they were: Flatbread. Smaller than naan or bagels, bigger than dinner rolls, but of course flat, ’cause of the way they were cooked on the side of a clay oven. Five was a small lunch—a child’s lunch, which is why it’s probably correct to say it came from a child instead of a slave. Made of barley instead of wheat; barley was cheaper, so this was likely a poor person’s lunch.

The synoptic gospels call the fish ἰχθύας/ikhthýas, “fishes,” which they were; but John identifies them as ὀψάρια/opsária, dried and salted fish, which you’d spread on the pitas if you didn’t only wanna eat bread. I translated them “anchovies,” which isn’t a precise translation, but it’s close enough. “Kippers” works too. You’ll notice in John, Jesus made the fish optional—if you wanted your pitas without fish, it’s fine. Even back then, not everybody liked anchovies!

Custom was for students to stand when the rabbi was talking. Now Jesus had them lie down, ’cause that’s how people ate in his culture.

John 6.8-13 KWL

8Simon Peter’s brother Andrew,

one of Jesus’s students, told him,

9“A boy is here who has five barley pitas and two anchovies,

but these things amount to what, for so many?”

10Jesus says, “Make the people recline.”

There’s a lot of grass on the ground, so the men recline.

Their number is like 5,000.

11So, taking the pitas and giving thanks to God,

Jesus distributes them to those reclining.

Likewise from the kippers—

as much as they want.

12Once they’re full, Jesus tells his students,

“Gather the overabundant scraps,

lest any of them perishes.”

13So they gather and fill 12 two-gallon baskets

with scraps of the five barley pitas

which exceeded what was eaten.

The “Majority Text” debate: KJV fans’ favorite Greek NT.

From time to time, particularly among Fundamentalists, you’re gonna find a person who insists no bible is trustworthy but the King James Version. Usually they’re called “King James Only” or “KJV-Only” Christians. I like to call them KJV-Onlyfans. Yes, I’m fully aware of how that’s gonna monkey with internet search engines. Or at least I hope so!

You’re gonna find KJV-Onlyfans revere the KJV a little too much, and regularly cross the line into bibliolatry. A number of ’em are cessationist, and don’t believe the Holy Spirit permits prophecy anymore; it stopped after the New Testament was complete. So instead of listening to the Holy Spirit, they elevate the Holy Bible, mix up the word of God with the Word of God, and worship the scriptures. Well, worship the scriptures they haven’t voided with dispensationalist interpretations. Hey, bibliolatry is complicated.

So… no bible is trustworthy but the KJV. What, I once asked one of the KJV-Onlyfans, about non-English bibles? What about a French-speaker who doesn’t know English, and therefore can’t use the KJV?—are there no trustworthy French bibles? His answer was, “No, there really aren’t.” My hypothetical French-speaker’s best option, he said, would be a French bible translated from the infallible KJV. That’s right, not from the original Hebrew and Greek texts; from the KJV. Toldja they regularly crossed the line.

The main reason KJV-Onlyfans believe as they do, is because they were told to believe it. Their preachers told ’em it’s a vital, essential part of Fundamentalism to be King James-believing Christians. That if you’re not a KJV-Onlyfan, you’re gonna fall into error and heresy and wind up in hell. So make sure you’re going to a KJV-Only church! Like theirs.

Then their preachers gave ’em a big ol’ list of reasons why they should trust no other bible but the KJV. The reasons vary, and some of the reasons are pretty dumb. Like “It was the bible of the Founding Fathers.” It wasn’t the bible of all of ’em! Charles Carroll was Roman Catholic, and used a Catholic bible. Quakers had their own translation, and those Founders in the Quaker movement used that. Deists like Benjamin Franklin and John Adams used any bible they pleased; Thomas Jefferson even sliced up his own.

But I digress. People don’t exalt the KJV because they’re convinced by the reasons; they exalt it ’cause they’re convinced by the preachers. The reasons exist because “Pastor said so” doesn’t sound convincing enough—so they sought reasons, and found a few.

And one of the reasons KJV-Onlyfans like to point to, is the Greek New Testament the KJV translators referred to: Desiderius Erasmus’s Textus Receptus. It’s the Greek NT used by Martin Luther, William Tyndale, Miles Coverdale, the Geneva Bible, the Bishops’ Bible, the KJV, Young’s Literal Translation, the NKJV, and the Modern English Version. They insist every Greek NT other than the Textus, or published after the Textus, is irredeemably flawed.

“Elders” who ought not be elders.

ELDER 'ɛld.ər adjective. Of a greater or advanced age.

2. [noun] A person of greater or advanced age.

3. [noun] A spiritually mature Christian, usually consulted as part of a church’s leadership, often entrusted with ministerial or priestly responsibility.

[Eldership 'ɛl.dər.ʃɪp noun.]

I remind you of the definition of “elder” because you notice the word has three meanings: An adjective describing something old; an older person, and a mature Christian. Don’t mix up the definitions! But of course some do.

Years ago, at a previous church I attended, we had an older person whom I’m gonna call Salwa. She wanted everybody in the church to call her “Grandma,” and think of her as the go-to person whenever we wanted prayer, or spiritual advice.

One evening one of our prayer meetings, she told us the story of how she came to Jesus. She grew up Christian, but never took it seriously; she spent many years living as a pagan; she dabbled in “spiritual” stuff and “spiritual” authors, but found all that stuff unsatisfactory; her neighbor invited her to church and she responded to the altar call, said the sinner’s prayer, and now she’s Christian.

How long ago had Salwa said the sinner’s prayer? Oh, three years ago!

That, I figured, explained everything. The serious lapses in Salwa’s bible knowledge meant she really needed to read more bible, and her many misinterpretations meant she was out of practice with basic reading comprehension. Her inappropriately-intense reactions to anything she found offensive, meant she needed some work on gentleness. Her sheer terror of anything which might lead people astray, meant she needed to learn more about grace.

She had some growing up to do! Same with every newbie.

The problem—as you mighta deduced from how she wanted folks to call her “Grandma”—is Salwa was older than average. In her 70s, I think. And she’d been Christian for three whole years, and had a Christian childhood, and read lots of “spiritual” stuff; therefore she considered herself an elder. Really. One of our “church mothers”—or grandmas, to her way of thinking.

She was awfully fond of this passage:

1 Timothy 5.1-2 NIV

1Do not rebuke an older man harshly, but exhort him as if he were your father. Treat younger men as brothers, 2older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, with absolute purity.

Paul’s advice to Timothy is about treating fellow Christians as family, not underlings. But Salwa didn’t care about its context, and insisted it made her a “church mother,” who should be honored, respected, obeyed, and treated as in charge of things—same as one’s actual mother.

Um… no. You don’t put newbies in charge of anything. Especially one who won’t listen to anybody. Our head pastor wisely never let Salwa take charge of anything… no matter how often she nominated herself. “No no; that’s okay; we got somebody for that.” Even when we didn’t, and he was gonna have to do it—but he knew Salwa wasn’t qualified to handle authority, so he never gave her any.

Eventually Salwa stopped attending. No doubt she went to another church, looking for the power she coveted, hoping that church would overlook her many red flags and consider her an elder simply because she was elder.