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 you, having an issue with another one of you,

has the nerve to be judged by the unjust,

and not by the saints?

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

And if the world instead judges you,

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

3Didn’t you know we will judge angels?

Not just the things of daily life!

4So, cases about the things of daily life:

When you have them,

the people thought the worst of by the church,

you sit before these people.

5I say shame on you!

So there’s no one wise among you?

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

6Instead, brother judges against brother,

and all this in front of unbelievers.

7So this truly is a failing among you—

that you have judgments against one another.

Why don’t you let yourselves be harmed instead?

Why don’t you let yourselves be cheated instead?

8Instead you 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?)