Randy Alcorn's Blog, page 85

Shai Linne Shares His Experience of Being a Black Man in America to Encourage Understanding and Unity

Note from Randy: A few years ago I enjoyed meeting recording artist Shai Linne at a conference where we were speaking the same night. We had a terrific conversation in which I thanked him for his extraordinary work and artistry in conveying solid biblical doctrine. (I would challenge you to find any clearer statement of life-changing theological truth than he conveys in that rap!) He is also a pastor, and anyone should be happy to have such a biblically-grounded church leader. 

I also thanked Shai for his bold and controversial for some (not me) rap against false teachers, in which he names names. And finally, his classic rap bio of Charles Spurgeon, which I blogged about in 2010. It is simply the best and most engaging condensed biography of Spurgeon in any form I’ve seen, and I’ve seen a great deal about Spurgeon.

I considered it important to give you this background on Shai so you first see what kind of a man he is and what a biblically grounded worldview he has. That may give greater credibility to what he says in the following article, which will seem controversial to some. His words resonate, down to the specific illustrations, with what every black man, from poor guys to rich ones, told me when I interviewed many black Americans while researching my novel Dominion. My heart breaks for my black brothers and sisters in Christ, and all the more having heard these stories over and over again from trustworthy people.  

Someone made this comment on a segment we recently posted from Dominion with a dialogue between a black man and white man: “This book was written in 1996. So much has changed in the last 25 years! There might still be traces of such thinking but I think most of that has dissipated. This only tends to separate people.” Respectfully, those who think this are out of touch with the great majority of black people in America, both believers and unbelievers, who would disagree profoundly that the problem of racism has mostly dissipated.

The “it’s mostly better now” approach raises the question, “How would you know?” It’s like a man saying, “I think women and children being abused might have been a problem in the 90’s, but so much has changed in the last 25 years, it’s not much of a problem today. So please don’t talk about it, it will separate people.” (People are already separated, that’s exactly why we need to talk about it.) But talk to women and children who have endured abuse, and you will hear a very different story.

If racism hasn’t touched your family, please listen to the voices of your brothers and sisters who have seen its devastating effects. Do some people see racism where it isn’t present? Sure. But they’ve seen so much real racism that sometimes they read it in when it isn’t there, much like a woman abused by her father, uncle, cousins, boyfriend, or husband will see a man on the street and cringe in fear. The man might say, “That’s unfair, she’s misjudging me, I would never hurt a woman,” but he should ask, why is that her instinctive response? Precisely because she has been abused and knows it to be real. So if you believe someone has unfairly seen you as racist, put yourself in their position and ask how a lifetime of real experiences might have affected some of your own assumptions.

God help us to understand, empathize, repent when necessary, and both teach and live out in words and actions the Good News that our Jesus died, among other things, to unite the races and forever end the hostility: “For Christ himself has brought peace to us. He united Jews and Gentiles [the ultimate racial divide] into one people when, in his own body on the cross, he broke down the wall of hostility that separated us” (Ephesians 2:14).

Please listen to the powerful words of a biblically-grounded, Christ-centered brother, Shai Linne:

George Floyd and Me

By Shai Linne

As a Christian hip-hop artist, I’ve had the privilege of proclaiming Christ in my music for many years now. One of the encouraging and surprising aspects of that journey has been seeing how the Lord has used music to make connections across ethnic lines. Before the recent pandemic, a Christian hip-hop concert was often a beautiful picture of the diversity of the new earth, with people from many walks of life united around the message of Christ and him crucified. On many occasions, I’ve marveled at the reality of me, a black man from Philly who grew up steeped in hip-hop culture, united with brothers and sisters of different ethnicities, ages, and cultures as we fix our eyes on Jesus together.

Over the years, I’ve heard from many people that they were affected by the truth contained in my music, even though hip-hop wasn’t their natural cultural preference. Whenever I heard this, I was struck by the power and beauty of likemindedness. It was clear to me that we were likeminded concerning particular emphases in the music—the glory of God, the supremacy of Christ, the centrality of the cross, and the importance of biblical theology. By God’s grace, I will fight for all of those things until the Lord takes me home. 

But one of the painful things I’ve discovered over the last eight years or so since Trayvon Martin’s killing is that it’s possible to agree on those things and yet be in a completely different place when it comes to the issue of racial injustice. Just because I’ve made an intentional decision to focus on that which is “of first importance” (1 Cor. 15:3) doesn’t mean there aren’t other important things that need to be addressed in the church. It also doesn’t mean that being a Christian has exempted me from the reality of being a black man in America and all the stigma that comes with it.

Empathy, Understanding, Unity

In the aftermath of George Floyd’s killing, my wife and I received an email from a white sister in Christ. I was hesitant to let her know how I was feeling, for fear of being misunderstood and, frankly, because of emotional exhaustion. But as I began to write, I poured out my heart in a way I’ve never really articulated all at once. I’ve been encouraged by some around me to share this publicly.

In doing so, I understand that I don’t speak for all black people on this issue, though many can resonate with my experience. I also recognize the risk that comes with putting yourself out there and being vulnerable in the age of social media, online trolls, and keyboard vigilantes. But if this can help promote any empathy, understanding, and unity in the body of Christ, it’s more than worth it. Here is what I shared with her.

Sister, I’m going to tell you how I’m doing. And as I tell you, please understand that I’m incapable of completing this message without weeping. There’s a part of me that’s saying, “Spare yourself the pain, Shai. It’s not worth it.” But I’m choosing not to listen to that part of me because I would be robbing you of an opportunity to “bear one another’s burdens” and “mourn with those who mourn”—and I’m sure, as a sister in Christ, you want to do just that.

Sister, I am heartbroken and devastated. I feel gutted. I haven’t been able to focus on much at all since I saw the horrific video of George Floyd’s murder. The image of that officer with hand in pocket as he calmly and callously squeezed the life out of that man while he begged for his life is an image that will haunt me until the day I die. But it’s not just the video of this one incident. For many black people, it’s never about just one incident. Just as it wasn’t just about the videos of Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Sandra Bland, Laquan McDonald, Walter Scott, Rodney King, etc., etc., etc., etc. 

This is about how being a black man in America has shaped both the way I see myself and the way others have seen me my whole life. It’s about being told to leave the sneaker store as a 12-year-old, because I was taking too long to decide which sneakers I wanted to buy with my birthday money and the white saleswoman assumed I was in the store to steal something. 

It’s about being handcuffed and thrown into the back of a police car while walking down the street during college, and then waiting for a white couple to come identify whether or not I was the one who’d committed a crime against them, knowing that if they said I was the one, I would be immediately taken to jail, no questions asked. 

It’s about walking down the street as a young man and beginning to notice that white people, women especially, would cross to the other side of the street to avoid walking past me—and me beginning to preemptively cross to the other side myself to save them the trouble of being afraid and to save me the humiliation of that silent transaction. 

It’s about taking a road trip with my sons to visit Blair’s family in Michigan—and my greatest fear being getting pulled over for no reason other than driving while black, told to get out of the car, cuffed, and sat down on the side of the road, utterly emasculated and humiliated with my young boys looking out the window, terrified, which is exactly what happened to a good friend of mine when he took his family on a road trip. 

It’s about the exhaustion of constantly feeling I have to assert my humanity in front of some white people I’m meeting for the first time, to let them know, “Hey! I’m not a threat! You don’t need to be afraid. If you got to know me, I’m sure we have things in common!” 

It’s about me sometimes asking my wife to do things in certain customer-service situations, since I know she’ll likely get treated better than I will. 

It’s about borrowing a baby swing from a white friend in our mostly white suburb of D.C. and her telling me, “Sure you can borrow it. I have to step out, but I’ll leave it on the porch for you. Just go grab it”—and then feeling heart palpitations as my car approached her home, debating whether or not to get the swing and being terrified as I walked up the steps that someone would think I was stealing it and call the cops on me. 

It’s about intentionally making sure the carseats are in the car, even if the kids aren’t, so that when (not “if”—it happens all the time) I’m stopped by the police, they will perhaps notice the carseats and also the wedding band on one of my visible hands on the wheel (which I’ve been taught to keep there and not move until he tells me to—and even then, in an exaggeratedly slow manner) and will perhaps think to himself, This man is married with a family and small kids like me. Maybe he wants to get home safely to his family just like I do.

It’s about having to explain to my 4-year-old son at his mostly white Christian school that the kids who laughed at him for having brown skin were wrong, that God made him in his image, and that his skin is beautiful—after he told me, “Daddy, I don’t want brown skin. I want white skin.”

It’s about having what feels like genuine fellowship with my white brothers and sisters who share the same Reformed theology—until I mention racism, injustice, or police brutality, at which point I’m looked at skeptically as if I embrace a “social gospel” or am some kind of “liberal” or “social justice warrior.”

And it’s about sometimes feeling like some of my white friends aren’t that particularly interested in truly knowing me—at least not in any meaningful way that might actually challenge their preconceptions. Rather, it feels like they use me to feel better about themselves because I check off the “black friend” box. Much more could be mentioned. These were the first things that came to mind. 

So when I watch a video like George Floyd’s, it represents for me the fresh reopening of a deep wound and the reliving of layers of trauma that get exponentially compounded each time a well-meaning white friend says, “All lives matter.” Of course they do, but in this country, black lives have been treated like they don’t matter for centuries and present inequities in criminal justice, income, housing, health care, education, etc. show that all lives don’t actually matter like they should.

So, whenever someone asks how I’m doing with everything going on, this is some of what I bring to the table. And it’s a big part of the picture of who Shai Linne is.

Grieving, But With Hope

But it’s not the whole picture. Though I’m deeply grieved, I am not without hope. Personally, I have little confidence in our government or policymakers to change the systemic factors that contributed to the George Floyd situation. But my hope isn’t in the government. My hope is in the Lord. In a different context, the prophet Jeremiah said some things that resonate with me as I process this: “I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me” (Lam. 3:20).

I love that the prophet doesn’t minimize the pain or act like it isn’t real. There are three whole chapters of “bitterness and gall”—and no trite clichés wrapped in theological terms. Jeremiah acknowledges how much it hurts and, as a result, his soul is downcast. Too often when people are hurting, we can play the role of Job’s friends, saying things that may be theologically true while adding to our suffering friend’s pain. One of the most hurtful things we can do is to make mourners justify their pain. 

Jeremiah gives thoughtful meditation to the trauma he has experienced at the hand of the Lord. But then he does something remarkable in the next verse. He preaches to himself!

Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope. Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” (Lam. 3:21–24)

Jeremiah makes a conscious decision to think about something that fuels his hope: God’s character. He considers God’s “great love,” God’s “compassion,” and God’s “faithfulness.” He reminds himself that the Lord is his portion. Jeremiah knows he and Israel deserve to be consumed because of their sin—but he also knows that the God who disciplines is the God who saves (v. 26).

Life as ‘Usual’

So, brothers and sisters, in a nutshell, I’m so thankful for Jesus. I deserve to be consumed, but I’m not, because of God’s compassion. That’s what the cross and resurrection are all about. My pain and trauma are real. But my salvation, in a sense, is even more real, because my pain and trauma are temporary. My salvation is eternal. This is why I choose to focus on what I do in my music. It’s the glory of God, the supremacy of Jesus Christ, the centrality of the cross, and biblical theology that put my experience as a black man in America into its proper perspective. 

I hope I’m not giving into skepticism or pessimism, but I firmly believe that unless the systemic problems with policing and the criminal justice system are addressed, we’re going to continue to see these kinds of things for years to come. My fear is that the attention garnered by the protests will eventually die down (as it always does), and then my white friends will go right back to “life as usual.”

But I don’t have that luxury.

For me, “life as usual” means recognizing some people perceive me as a threat based solely on the color of my skin. For me, “life as usual” means preparing my sons for the coming time when they’re no longer perceived as cute little boys, but teenage “thugs.” Long after George Floyd disappears from the headlines, I will still be a black man in America.

And you know what? I thank God for that! He knew exactly what he was doing when he made me the way he did. Despite the real and exhausting challenges that come with my outward packaging, I know that I’m fearfully and wonderfully made. And I wouldn’t want to be anything other than what I am: a follower of Jesus Christ who has been saved by grace and redeemed by the blood of the Lamb—who also has brown skin and dreadlocks and does hip-hop. And God has chosen, in his great mercy, to leverage it all for his glory. Praise be to him.

This article originally appeared on The Gospel Coalition and is used with permission.

Photo by Rui  Silvestre on Unsplash

Discovering the Wonders of God in the Low Tides of Life

Over the years, God has been faithful in what I call “the low tides” of life. In those times, I’ve seen Him in ways not always visible during high tides—periods of relative ease and comfort. As the wonders of underwater tide pools are only seen at low tide, so the wonders of God and depths of our need for Him can become visible to us in our own low tides.

Perhaps you, like me, have also experienced the truth of what Robert Murray M’Cheyne said: “You will never find Jesus so precious as when the world is one vast howling wilderness. Then He is like a rose blooming in the midst of the desolation, a rock rising above the storm.”

When the Bottom Drops Out

Years ago, my wife Nanci suffered through what she calls her “year of fear and free-floating anxiety that made me fall in love with God.” Nanci knew God from childhood and trusted Him all through my lawsuits, arrests, and job loss, then through her mother’s death and other losses (and threatened ones). But that inexplicable year of her life, unrelated to any outside traumatic event, changed her. She coped by telling God, morning and night, how much she loved Him.

She has continued her habit of praise and intimacy with God that developed when daily fear and dread fell upon her. The crushing emotions of that time have departed; the sense of intimacy with her Savior remains. To this day Nanci rejoices in God’s love for her and her love for Him in ways she never would have known without that year she otherwise could describe as hellish.

Why do God’s children undergo pressures, suffering, and deadly peril? Paul answers clearly: “that we might not rely on ourselves but on God” (2 Corinthians 1:9, NIV). There’s no nearness to God without dependence on God. And nothing makes us more dependent on Him than when the bottom drops out.

When we’re feeling good, too often we rush on with little thought of the God who is supposed to be our Rock and Sustainer and Comfort. He is our friend, and don’t we always appreciate true friends most when we need them, in times of difficulty? As Corrie ten Boom put it, “You may never know that JESUS is all you need, until JESUS is all you have.”

No Other Way

Ten months after his son was killed in a car accident, Greg Laurie told me, “What I wish is that I could have learned and grown and drawn close to the Lord just like I have, but that Christopher was still here.” Greg captured it perfectly—I too wish I could have all the good God has brought me and have learned the things He has taught me through adversity, but without all that pain and loss. But it doesn’t work that way, does it?

God knows we'll learn things in those low tides that we would never learn any other way. And He understands our greatest need is to know Him better and trust Him more deeply:

Thus says the LORD: “Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches, but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight," declares the LORD (Jeremiah 9:23-24).

But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (2 Peter 3:18).

Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death (Philippians 3:8-10).

Nothing is more important or joy-giving than truly knowing God, even when that knowledge comes about because of our deepest pain.

The Depths of God’s Character

As we have dealt with her cancer over the past two and a half years, Nanci and I have spent time meditating on the attributes of God, rereading and listening to audiobooks such as The Knowledge of the Holy by A. W. Tozer, Knowing God by J. I. Packer, and Trusting God by Jerry Bridges. Our hearts have been lifted in praise as we’ve contemplated His holiness, grace, justice, mercy, and every facet of His being revealed to us in Scripture. While we certainly would not have chosen this “low tide,” we’ve drawn closer to the Lord and to each other because of it. (See her Caring Bridge page for the latest update; she had a successful surgery a week ago Thursday.)

In the midst of our suffering, God makes some of His most profound and precious self-revelations. Perhaps He does so because only then are we ready to see them. I love what Calvin Miller wrote about going deep into God’s character: “…those who plumb the deep things of God discover true peace for the first time.”

So if you’re experiencing a low tide season (like many are right now), trust that God is at work in your life through these difficulties. Focus on His character, as revealed in Scripture. Look to Him and ask Him to reveal His wonders to you. Then may you say along with Scripture:

“Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!” (Romans 11:33).

For more perspectives on trusting and knowing God in suffering, see Randy's devotional 90 Days of God's Goodness.

Photo: Unsplash

Empathize with Good Cops in This Time of Rightly Calling out Bad Ones

I have posted previous blogs and articles on racial justice, including my last blog post, with an excerpt from my novel Dominion. At the risk of being misunderstood or misquoted by some who will say, “This is no time to defend cops,” I want to also address the role of righteous people of all ethnicities serving in law enforcement, and say something to police officers that I feel deeply.

First, I believe 100% that what was done in Minneapolis to George Floyd was evil and unjust and dead wrong (see Racial Justice and the Image of God, with thoughts from Dan Franklin, who I agree with). At the same time, it is also sad that cops as a whole are suffering from the wrong actions of some cops. (I haven’t spoken with a single police officer who has defended anything done by the four police officers who have been charged with murder or aiding and abetting murder.)

I have the highest respect for what police officers do. I have many good friends who are cops, and I know it’s extremely difficult. They daily risk their lives to protect me, my family, my children, and my grandchildren, and yours too. (Again, don’t misread this; I am talking about cops I know, and I believe this also applies to many, even most of those I don’t know. That in NO WAY justifies the injustice committed by some!) In fact, the photos I've included in this blog remind us that police officers are human beings too, and many of them love the people they serve and protect.

Just recently I was having conversations by text and email with some police officer friends who love Jesus. They will be falsely accused of racism many times, though it is sadly true of some cops, as it is of some business owners, mechanics, and writers.  

Like everyone else, including pastors and athletes and farmers and business people and politicians, cops are human, and humans are sinners. So a minority of cops will certainly be guilty of racism. I think the majority are not, and a good number of those, including some I know, adamantly believe in racial equality and justice. But still, inevitably, those innocent of discrimination will feel the sting of the assumption. 

Think of all the black cops who are lined up to prevent violence and destruction of property and looting, and are seeing among the protestors the faces of their brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, and friends. They believe in the cause just as much, yet also wear the uniforms committed to protect the common welfare, and rightly are committed to doing their duty.

In fact, guilt by assumption also applies to the protestors, most of whom are peaceful, but are condemned as violent and law-breaking because some have lashed out, destroyed property and looted. I remember this well, having participated in peaceful nonviolent civil disobedience on behalf of unborn children in 1989 and 90, never touching anyone or raising my voice to someone at an abortion clinic, never resisting arrest, yet being labeled as guilty because some misbehaved.

As true racism by a cop can result in disaster, false assumptions about the majority of cops can also be devastating, giving people a warped lens through which they view the police. Sadly, the true cases of police brutality and racism feed the unfair prejudice against cops in general, as the true cases of criminals being of a particular race feed the labeling that “this guy is probably a criminal.”

I messaged five of my police officer friends recently and said, “Every time I see a cop I wave and every time I ride the Springwater trail, usually 3X per week, and see cops, I say ‘thank you.’ (Since they can actually hear me.) I love you guys, who you are and what you do/did. I wouldn’t want to wake up to this world without you guys in it. Yes, I oppose, just as you do, cops who violate the laws of justice and love. But I thoroughly support men and women of honor who protect our lives and stand between our families and injustice. I encourage you to speak up for the weak and needy and defend their rights, as Proverbs 31:8-9 says. And I pray for you, knowing how extremely difficult your jobs are, and how increasingly challenging they’ve become. Please continue to faithfully serve our communities.”

Before reacting to the above, keep in mind I didn’t send it to all cops, any more than I would send a message to all pastors and Christian leaders saying, “Thanks for being faithful to Jesus and being an example of Christlikeness.” That wouldn’t be a right message because it’s not true of some. Rather, I sent this to five cops I know it IS true of! And just as bad cops deserve to be condemned and prosecuted, good cops deserve to be praised and commended. So for any of the men and women in law enforcement, whether followers of Jesus or not, who serve their communities and people of every color with respect and justice and who speak up when necessary to their fellow cops and defend the right way to treat all people, THANK YOU! (And for those who don’t, may you repent, and may every unfaithful pastor, ministry leader, writer, teacher, tweeter, blogger, blog commenter, and people of all vocations ALSO repent.)

My heart breaks for cops who are suffering because of what a minority have done. I weep for their families too. I remember like it was yesterday what it was like for years to be labeled as a crazy prolife protestor, subject to false accusations in the media and the courtrooms, knowing my family would suffer from the stereotype some, both unbelievers and believers, placed on me. I also remember years ago feeling this about being in pastoral ministry at a time when pastors and Christian leaders were falling into immorality left and right, and were preaching the prosperity gospel and fleecing people’s money, using their power to abuse staffs and congregations, and otherwise misrepresenting Jesus. It seemed like the ministry became a profession to mock and roll your eyes at. And since those abuses sadly continue, so do the stereotypes, unfair though they be.

However, the difference is, Christian leaders don’t put our lives on the line like police officers do. If I get judged and misrepresented because of the lack of integrity of some Christian leaders, or some prolife protestors, it’s a small price to pay, even though we feel it. But for cops, it’s a huge price to pay. The stronger their conscience and moral framework, the harder it is.

One of the hardest things for all of us to do, whether in families and workplaces and churches and perhaps especially in the military and law enforcement, is to confront, correct and in some cases actually restrain our comrades from doing the wrong thing that brings harm to others. Scripture is emphatic on this: “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed. Yes, speak up for the poor and helpless, and see that they get justice” (Proverbs 31:8-9 NLT). If this means having to stand up against a fellow officer or soldier or teammate or family member, so be it. We are accountable ultimately to God, no matter who else may be displeased by our words and actions. We stand before Jesus as the one righteous judge, the Audience of One.

As Paul put it, “If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ” (Galatians 1:10). In the very next chapter, we learn that Paul practiced this principle in the hardest conceivable way. He actually spoke up to the apostle Peter in the presence of others, confronting him on an act of racism, because while ministering to Gentiles Peter treated them one way, but changed the way he treated them when Jews were present. Paul says, “The other Jews joined in [Peter’s] hypocrisy, so that by their hypocrisy even Barnabas was led astray” (Galatians 2:13). Paul calls out his dear friend Barnabas also! What else did Paul do? “When I saw that they were not walking in line with the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas [Peter] in front of them all, ‘If you, who are a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews?’” (Galatians 2:14).

What makes this so powerful to me is that in the early church if you were to name one and only one name of a universally respected Christian leader of great prominence, that name would have been Peter! In church circles, Peter was the equivalent of the senior pastor, the head of a denomination, the university president, the chief of police, the governor, and even the president of the United States! Peter was the last guy you would oppose, privately or publicly, if you were looking out for your reputation and hoping to advance your career in church circles!

As I’ve tried to make clear, this principle of seeking God’s approval above man’s applies not only to police officers or those serving in the military, though in those cases lives can more obviously be on the line. It also applies to the rest of us, including those in homes who witness abuse, or those in workplaces who witness lying, cheating, sexual exploitation, and demeaning and berating others. We are all called to “Speak the truth in love” and “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.” We are told, “Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6).

My respect and prayers are with my brothers and sisters in law enforcement, including the five I reached out to in the past week. My message to them, and to all, is this:

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8).

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9).

This excellent article shares eight ways all of God’s people can pray for police officers. And I encourage you to reach out to those cops you know who are seeking to do their job with integrity and wisdom and let them know you’re praying for them and their families.

Finally, the video below, from Casting Crowns, depicts powerful images of protestors and police officers showing each other respect and compassion. It’s a reminder that we are all human. And also that true genuine followers of Jesus are everywhere, among the police, the military, every part of the community, and among the peaceful protestors. This is beautiful:

I have reached out to five Christian police officers to get their perspectives on the death of George Floyd, the protests, riots, and the effects on police throughout the country. After they've all responded I will write a blog expressing what they are seeing and thinking. I would also welcome input from any other police officers. Please send your comments to me.

Top photo by Max Bender on Unsplash

How Often Do You Think about the Color of Your Skin? A Discussion Between Two Friends

In this excerpt from my novel  Dominion , the main character Clarence Abernathy, a black journalist, discusses issues related to race with his friend and coworker Jake Woods (the main character of the previous novel Deadline ). There’s a lot of action in the book, but this is a lengthy dialogue, one that may help you think a little differently about racial issues than a nonfiction treatment might (hence, this is a longer than normal blog).

It’s been twenty-five years since I researched and wrote the book. But the issues it addresses are still pertinent. As an African American friend, a professional athlete, said to me last week in the wake of the George Floyd murder, “Crazy times…but I feel like we’ve been here before. Amazing how much things don’t change.” But perhaps this time they will, certainly some are saying their own perspectives and hearts and empathy are changing. (By the way, in my next blog I’ll be addressing the terrible place that good cops, black and white and every ethnicity, find themselves in when they are condemned and judged by the actions of bad cops.)

Here’s that passage from Dominion:

On Wednesday afternoon Clarence finished his Thursday column, packed up his briefcase, and left the Trib at one. He’d been there since five-thirty, and his bones ached for fresh air and exercise. He dropped by his house in North Portland, changed to his sweats, affixed his bike rack to the car, strapped on his bike, and jumped in the driver’s seat with spring in his step. He drove out toward Gresham. When he’d lived in the suburbs, he’d ridden the Springwater Corridor Trail three or four times a week. Now because of the driving time, that was down to just once a week, Wednesday afternoons. But it was a ritual he looked forward to, rain or shine. These days, it was one of the few oases in the desert of his life…

Thursday evening the violins, trombones, trumpets, french horns, drums, and cymbals permeated the living room at high volume. Clarence and Jake sat next to each other, soaking in the music. In front of them were the rich blues, the deep reds, the black backdrop, and the white pinpoints of a distant part of the galaxy where their minds traveled, though their bodies sat in Jake’s apartment. It was the introduction to Deep Space Nine. For the next hour they bantered through commercials and watched the show attentively right to the credits.

“DS Nine’s getting better,” Clarence said. “It’s nearly as good as Voyager now, maybe Next Generation.”

“It’s not that good,” Jake said.

“Well, Sisko’s the best captain.”

“Better than Kirk, sure. Better than Janeway? I don’t know. I really like her. But nobody’s better than Picard.”

“Picard? He’s a cold fish. Sisko’s my main man.”

“He kind of reminds me of you,” Jake said.

“Because he’s black and studly?” While Jake rolled his eyes, Clarence suddenly looked serious.

“Hey, Jake, you remember when Captain Kirk kissed Lieutenant Uhura in the original Star Trek? Did you know that was the first interracial kiss ever on television?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Clarence spoke wistfully. “It was less than thirty years ago, and we were still watching it on our black-and-white TV, Harley and Ellis and I. Mama saw that white man and black woman kissing and got right up and turned off the TV. She said, ‘I don’t want you boys gettin’ no ideas.’ She said, ‘Don’t you forget Emmit Till,’ then she pulled out that old picture.”

“Who’s Emmit Till? What picture?”

Clarence looked surprised Jake didn’t know. “A fourteen-year-old boy. He was visiting family in Mississippi. They say he made a friendly comment to some white woman in a store. They found him three days later in the Tallahatchie River, wired by his neck to a big old metal fan. He had a bullet in his skull, eye gouged out, head crushed. His mother insisted on an open casket so the whole world could see. Jet magazine printed a picture of his corpse. Mama cut it out. Even though we were just babies when it happened, a couple times a year she’d pull it out of a drawer and show it to us boys—to scare us into staying away from white girls.”

“Who killed him?”

“The woman’s husband and his brother, as I recall. There was an eyewitness who identified the two of them as dragging Emmit into their truck and driving off. The all-white jury deliberated one hour and found them not guilty.”

“No kidding? I didn’t remember that.” Jake felt tentative, wondering whether to step into it or not. “Can I ask you something, Clarence? You obviously think a lot about...racial issues. That’s fine, and you’ve helped me understand a lot of things. But sometimes I sense you’re... angry. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Harley says any black man who isn’t angry is either stupid or dead,” Clarence said. “Not that I always agree with Harley. I usually don’t.” Jake noticed Clarence running his finger underneath his right ear.

“I guess I usually assume the anger is racial,” Jake said, “but I’m not sure. Sometimes you’re hard to read. I really do want to understand you better. We’re friends. We’re brothers. Talk to me. I want to know what’s going on inside you.”

Clarence sighed and sat silent for thirty seconds. “Where do I begin? Which of a thousand stories do I tell? How about this one? Once down in Mississippi I was with my cousin Rod and my aunt Charlene. A teenage white boy walks by and glares at us with these dagger eyes and growls under his breath, ‘Niggers.’ Aunt Charlene turns around and looks at him and a light goes on. She says, ‘That’s Jarod Smith. I used to take care of him. I raised him. I wiped that boy’s nose and his bottom, and I dried his tears. All so he could grow up and call me and mine nigger?’ She was mad as a wet wasp,” Clarence laughed. “Can you blame her?”

“No,” Jake said. “I can’t.”

“Or how about last night? Geneva and I watched The Color Purple. Hadn’t seen it since it was in the theaters, years ago. Everybody loved The Color Purple. The book got a Pulitzer; the movie got Oscars. Well, can you look through that book or watch that movie and show me one black man who had any redeeming qualities, unless it was the fact that he eventually died? The worse the men, the more holy the women who had to suffer them. Used to be that the worst villains in movies were aliens, but now half the aliens are good. The only bad guys left are Nazis and black men, and maybe an occasional Hispanic or Arab.”

“But wasn’t The Color Purple written by a black woman?”

“So? You think it feels better for black men to be humiliated by black women than white men?”

“I’ve done a lot of thinking about the talk we had at the deli,” Jake said, “about people being conscious of their skin color. Looking back, I grew up almost never giving a thought to it.”

“We had to think about it,” Clarence said. “With segregation, busing, voting, separate drinking fountains and restrooms and schools and what have you, we didn’t have the luxury of not thinking about it. I first went to integrated school in fourth grade. When I sat down, the chairs around me emptied like I was a pipe bomb. I was the brunt of jokes, was spit on, called names. Even the kids who weren’t cruel were always whispering about me. Most of the teachers weren’t really hostile, but they tolerated the meanness and that just encouraged it. The color of our skin chased us everywhere. You could never outrun it. We had no choice but to take it personally. It shaped us. It had to. Maybe that’s what you see in my eyes.”

“Since you were a kid, how often have you really thought about the color of your skin?” Jake asked.

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t say, ‘Of course.’ White folks think they want blacks to be honest with them, but usually it turns out they don’t. How often have I thought about the color of my skin? Try every waking hour of every day of my life.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. Did you ever look through those black magazines I gave you?”

“Yeah, I did. It was really amazing. Every picture was of blacks—every subject of a feature, every writer, every advertisement had people with black skin. I don’t know if I saw a single white, except a few in Urban Family.”

“Now imagine,” Clarence said, “if when you grew up every magazine was like that, every television commercial and every billboard showed only people of another skin color, not yours. How do you think it would have made you feel?”

“Marginalized, I suppose. Out of it. Like maybe something was wrong with being white.”

“Exactly,” Clarence said. “That’s just how it was when I grew up. I’d look through all those magazines and the Sears and Wards catalogues and won­der what was wrong with being black. Now if I was white, I wouldn’t think about it either. When you’re in the driver’s seat, you don’t think about conditions in the back-seat. When you’re born into a privileged class you just take it for granted. The people who think about it are the ones who weren’t born privileged. It’s a birthright thing. Kids who have plenty of food don’t think about the fact they have food. But when you’re hungry, it’s always on your mind.”

“I guess I don’t think of myself as being privileged,” Jake said. “I mean, I’ve worked hard for what I’ve got.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t. And I’m not blaming you for anything, Jake. It could just as easily have been me born white and you born with my good looks. But that’s not how it happened. Didn’t you tell me once your grandfather ran a hotel?”

“Yeah, in Colorado. His father built it. He worked with him from the time he was a boy. They did the building and maintenance and my great-grandmother did all the cooking and cleaning, then passed that on to my grandmother. Nothing came easy for them.”

“I’m sure it didn’t. But you’re telling me your great-grandparents established their business back in the 1800s and they passed skills and resources and economic experience and training from their generation down to yours. Right?”

“Right.”

“So you’re the beneficiary of generations of hard work and education and opportunity and freedom. But see, while your great-grandparents were doing all that, my great-grandparents were forced to till the Mississippi soil and pick cotton until they couldn’t straighten their backs. They worked hard all right. But none of it benefited their children or grandchildren. It all benefited the next generation of white children.”

Jake sat there, not sure how to respond.

“So you see,” Clarence continued, “your ancestors worked to pass on advan­tages to you, and my ancestors worked to pass on advantages to you. I’m not trying to lay a guilt trip on you. But you have to realize that’s the way it was.”

“But my ancestors weren’t slave owners,” Jake said.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure, at least going back to my great-grandparents.”

“But it’s not that easy. See, the whole country, south and north, benefited economically from the work of the slaves and the sharecroppers. Your ancestors worked hard. Mine worked even harder, but with one big difference. Yours worked hard as free people, choosing the kind of work they’d do. They experienced the rewards of their work. That’s capitalism at its best. But mine worked hard at the bloody end of a whip, and they didn’t receive the rewards of their work. Their white masters did, the white plantation owners did, and during sharecropping the white landowners did. With the dirt pay during Jim Crow days, the whole white community benefited at the expense of black folk, who just scraped by. Didn’t you tell me your daddy went to Harvard?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“I’m sure he worked hard to get there. But my daddy dropped out of school in third grade to work fourteen-hour days on land owned by white folks, to help feed his family. Your daddy was born with an opportunity my daddy wasn’t. Your daddy’s opportunity and your ancestors’ opportunity came, at least partially, at the expense of blacks.”

“I’ve never thought of myself as privileged—certainly not at somebody else’s expense.”

“Privilege is like being born tall in a world that revolves around basketball,” Clarence said. “If you’re a seven footer, basketball’s going to come easier than if you’re five foot six. Now a seven footer can say, ‘I had to work hard to become a great basketball player.’ Yeah he’s right, but he’d be a fool not to realize he was born with advantages that helped his dream come true. There’s no substitute for hard work. But your daddy’s hard work and my daddy’s hard work didn’t bring them equal advantages, not financially or educationally. Now character, that’s something else.”

“Your father didn’t come up short on character, that’s for sure, Clarence I’m sorry to say mine did.”

“To compensate for his disadvantages, my daddy had to do extraordinary things to make it possible for Harley and me to go to college. In a lot of white families every kid has the opportunity to go to college, but in black families just one got that opportunity, if any. In my family it was two, Harley and me. There wasn’t enough money for the rest. Your father had the benefit of working in a family-owned busi­ness. Not that long ago black folk couldn’t own any property or businesses. We’re in the race now, all right, but you have a several-hundred-year head start. Black folk were helping your ancestors get that head start while white folk were keeping my ancestors out of the race.”

“Maybe I’ve gotten used to privilege and it feels like I earned it all,” Jake said.

“Well, if some white folk are too slow to see their advantages, some black folk are too quick to see their disadvantages. I’m the first one to admit that, Jake. See, my daddy never let his disadvantages rob him of hope or keep him from working hard and building the best life he could. I hear some black folk whining all the time, when the truth is they’ve got all these advantages Daddy never dreamed of. The whining makes me sick. But when I hear some white people born with the silver spoon in their mouths talk about how everybody just needs to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, well that makes me sick too. Truth is, black people have had freedom such a short time, we haven’t gotten real experienced at using it. Then there was the whole welfare thing and all those freethinking white university professors in the six­ties that pushed this me-first family-destroying lifestyle that cut us off at the knees. I don’t even want to talk about that, it makes me so angry. I’ve never been happy with liberals or conservatives on racial issues. Anyway, next time you think maybe I’m angry, there’s a good chance you’re right.”

Jake nodded. He seemed unsure what to ask next, but Clarence didn’t need more prompting.

“Tom Skinner used the example of a baseball game. The game starts, and one team—let’s call them the White Sox—takes the lead. Next thing you know they’re up 10-0. The other team, Black Sox, has been trying to get their attention that some­thing’s wrong. Well, come the seventh inning the White Sox finally notice the Black Sox have been playing the whole game with one hand tied behind their back. So, they say, ‘Okay, we’ll untie your hand. Batter up.’ Well, by now the score is 20-0, and we’re in the bottom of the seventh inning. The White Sox have mastered the skills necessary to play the game. The Black Sox are now able to play with both hands, true enough, but they’re used to playing with one and they don’t have the experi­ence yet and their one arm is really sore, some of their shoulders are dislocated, and they’ve still got the rope burns. Given all that, and the score being 20-0, who do you think is going to win the game?”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “I hear you.”

“And by this time, some of the Black Sox are going to give up trying because who can overcome that lopsided score? They’ve gotten so used to being disadvantaged that even when they’re untied they don’t think there’s any hope of catching up. Some of the black team adjust and excel, yes, but some just feel despair and anger, and some just give up and sit on the bench or throw rocks at the privileged team or fight with each other in the dugout.”

“I see what you’re saying. But am I wrong in thinking the score’s not 20-0 anymore?”

“Harley’s always telling me how things are so bad, worse than they’ve ever been. He’ll give me a statistic about many more whites per capita graduating from college than blacks. Then I’ll say, yes, but the percentage of blacks graduating from college is six times higher than it was thirty years ago. He’ll point out all the blacks living in poverty. It’s true, but the black middle class is much bigger than it’s ever been. Blacks work at blue-collar jobs for the same hours, wages, and benefits as whites. Black doctors, attorneys, professors, journalists—you name it—all at institutions that used to not allow blacks in the door. Colleges that didn’t used to per­mit black students now actively recruit them. African Americans are in thousands of local and appointed offices around the country. They’re mayors of some of the nation’s largest cities. They’re governors, senators, congressmen. They chair major congressional committees. Colin Powell was appointed head of the most powerful military machine in the history of the planet. A lot of the most popular and highest-paid television performers and athletes are black.”

“What does Harley say to all that?”

“Harley will only talk about oppression of minorities. I tell him that in every country in history where people have been oppressed, they’ve flooded the borders attempting to leave. In America, almost no minorities are trying to leave, whereas a tidal wave of minorities are desperately trying to enter. Are they coming here to get oppressed? Of course not. They know America’s the land of opportunity for minori­ties. But to Harley, and to a lot of black folk, it will always be a land of injustice. Blacks will always be helpless victims, and whites will always be malicious oppressors. But the truth is, every time racial injustice happens, and it happens a lot, all that progress disappears like smoke on a windy day.  Because wrong is still wrong, and that wrong doesn’t stand on its own, it calls up a long history that has made blacks and whites who we are.”

“So racial problems really aren’t getting better?” Jake asked, voice weighed down in defeat.

“For some people, they are,” Clarence said. “You heard what I said. For others, it’s pretty much the same as always. And for a lot of folks, it’s just getting worse.”

“I’m embarrassed to say I never used to understand all this talk about racism. But lately the lights have started to turn on. Race is a burden for you it’s never been for me.”

“Burden is a good word. More than anything else, I just get tired of it all. I’d like to put on white skin for a few weeks, not because I want to be white—I don’t—but just so I could take a break, have a vacation. Just get the hay bales off my back awhile, that’s all. So I wouldn’t have to face the issue again and again every time I walk by someone at the supermarket or see a police officer looking at me or I drive up next to someone at a stoplight on a nice day and hear their power-locks engage.. Some days I’m just so worn out by it all. I can leave my briefcase at home, but I can’t leave my skin at home. Being black is a full-time job. Every class I was ever in, every white church I ever went to, I was expected to be the black voice, as if all blacks think alike. Somebody’s doing a story and they need to talk to a black man, they call me. You know Jake, if you ever get dog-tired at the Trib, you can put your head down on your desk and snooze a few minutes. I’ve seen you do it. I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because when you do it, you’re just a man taking a snooze, probably because you stayed up late working hard. If I did it, I’d be a black man—lazy, indolent, probably up late partying or taking drugs. Cheating my employer by stealing his time. Proving black men are as bad as everyone thinks.”

“Come on, Clarence, you’re overreacting. Nobody would think that.”

“Maybe not everybody. But some would. That’s just a fact, Jake, whether or not you believe it. Dr. King used to tell the story of a man walking past ten drunk men, nine of them white, the other black. The man shook his head and said, ‘Just look at that black drunk, now would you?’”

“I don’t know what to say, brother. I...really feel bad.”

“Look, Jake, I don’t want to make you feel bad, and above all I don’t want your pity. Truth is, I went through a phase in the seventies, a phase my brother Harley’s still in. I took delight in manipulating remorseful whites into flagellating themselves with guilt. I’d either make them admit their racism—in which case they were guilty—or deny their racism, in which case they were even more guilty.”

“Like it was impossible for a white to be innocent?”

“Exactly. I, on the other hand, was part of the oppressed race, and that brought an innocence with it. Racism could go only one way. Whites could never be inno­cent; blacks could never be guilty. The whole thing was just self-indulgence. I was capitalizing on my ancestors’ suffering. I came to realize they didn’t give up, they labored hard to pass the baton to my generation, and now that we finally have a level playing field, we finally have a great chance to make it, some  of us were sitting around smoking dope and whining about injustice and engaging in self-pity and excuses while we let opportunities slip away. I decided no more of this for me. I wasn’t going to play the race game anymore. For several years I wouldn’t even talk about race.”

“Why not?”

“Because discussions about race always took place either in shouts or whispers. I hated both. Especially the whispers. All the walking on eggshells. All the dishonesty where people’s main goal is to not sound racist rather than to communicate what’s really on their mind. I hated it, that’s all. And as a middle-class black professional, I hated not being accepted by whites or blacks.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s darned if you do, darned if you don’t. I hear the pleas to ‘give back’ to my community. By living in the suburbs until recently I supposedly lost touch with my people and my cultural roots. Right. Like all blacks are supposed to live in constant danger in drug-infested, crime-infested neighborhoods, and both whites and blacks resent it when they don’t. Any white person who lives in poverty and a crime area, when he earns enough money, what does he do?”

“Usually, he moves out,” Jake said.

“Obviously, and that’s perfectly fine with most people. But when I moved out, it was like a betrayal, like I wasn’t being black. Hey, I was just being human. I want my kids to grow up safe and have a good education. What’s wrong with that? Dani and I used to go around and around on this. She wanted in the world’s worst way for me to move in to her neighborhood. Ironic, isn’t it? I’m there now just because she was shot and killed. You know, I’ve never known anybody sweeter than my little sis. But it was still real hard for her to trust white people.”

“I feel like most blacks don’t trust whites. Am I right?” Jake asked.

“Well, let’s face it, the track record’s pretty bad. How would you feel about black people if you knew your great-grandmother had stood on an auction block, stripped to the waist, while white men bid for her and the highest bidder got to take her as a slave and rape her whenever he felt like it? That’s a lot to overcome, don’t you think? My grandma, my mama’s mama, she never trusted a white person. Some people thought she was bitter. But she’d seen her brother killed by the Klan. And she saw her father waste away in the cotton fields. And she saw her house taken away by the landowners when her daddy got too sick to work. Trusting white people doesn’t come easy after what she saw. And the stories get passed on. For every bad thing you ever heard about a black person, I’ve heard five more about whites. Daddy wouldn’t stand for too much of that talk, but it didn’t stop my uncles and aunts and cousins and neighbors from filling my ears.”

“I understand why they’re suspicious,” Jake said. “I guess I would be too. But if blacks gave white people a chance, I think they’d find a lot of us are different now.”

“But that difference has to be proven over the long haul before there can be trust. You remember when we were sitting together at Promise Keepers down at Civic Stadium, and the Indian guy, the Navajo, next to us joked about the irony of a group of white American men calling themselves ‘Promise Keepers’? I laughed like crazy. As I recall, you didn’t think it was that funny. But I knew exactly what he was saying. All the promises to the Indians, all the promises to the blacks, those promises were never kept. Now you know how I love Promise Keepers, glad they’ve got a racial mix in the speakers, and I know they’re serious about racial reconciliation. But still, a lot of blacks are holding back, giving it time, watching whether all the talk is for real, whether it’s going to pan out, translate into a long-term track record.”

“I can appreciate the reservations,” Jake said. “I just hope more and more of us white guys learn to stop talking and instead ask questions and listen. And I hope more black brothers keep putting their feet in the water to give it a chance.”

“So do I. But a lot are going to stand out on the riverbank until they’re sure the gators aren’t biting. See, some of us have trusted white Christians before and ended up getting burned; we’ve told ourselves we’ll never do it again.”

“For example?”

“Okay,” Clarence looked as if he were mentally sorting through dozens of domi­noes and deciding which one to draw. “When I was at OSU I got linked up with a campus Christian group, all whites but me. I had some great times with them. But then one day I was walking across campus with a group of black friends. I see these four Christian white guys coming and I know they see me and I’m going to introduce them to my friends, maybe build a bridge to invite my black friends to the group. But all of a sudden these guys are headed across the lawn so they don’t have to walk by me. I start to go after them, but then I realize what it’s all about. I can be their friend on their turf, in their white world, but they won’t cross over to my black world. I talked to them about it later. They apologized, but it was never the same after that. The friendship faded. I stopped going to the meetings. Too bad, because I needed them.”

Jake looked at Clarence like a student listening to a professor, in over his head, but struggling to understand.

“Have you ever figured out,” Clarence asked, “why I dress up on a weekend or evening when we go to Dick’s Sporting Goods?”

“Beats me. Just thought you like dressing up. It’s always struck me as weird, I admit. Who dresses up to go to a store?”

“I love to go casual. Jeans and a sweatshirt, that’s what I really like,” Clarence said. “But I also want to shop in peace. I get tired of the salesclerks saying, ‘Can I help you?’ every five minutes.”

“What?”

“I don’t like being watched.”

“Clarence, what are you saying?”

“That I’m a black man,” Clarence’s voice thundered, “and black men are expected to be shoplifters! There. Can you understand that?”

“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It wasn’t you. Sorry.” Clarence raised his hands and waited to regain his com­posure. “If you’re a white man wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, you’re just another customer. If you’re a black man wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, you’re just another suspect. Dressing up makes me look successful. So it helps compensate for my skin color. Sometimes it’s enough to keep store security from breathing down my neck all the time. Sometimes it’s not.”

“I had no idea,” Jake said. “Are you sure—”

“That I’m not overreacting? Hey, I’ve got friends who are doctors and attorneys, and they do the same thing. If they dress comfortable, they’re a suspect. It gets really old.”

Clarence and Jake talked for another hour.

“Got to get home, bro,” Clarence said. He hesitated, then added, “Hey, thanks for asking me about this stuff. And thanks for listening to me. I feel better talking about it.”

Jake put his arm around him. “Thanks for opening up to me, Clarence. Really. It gives me a lot to think about. I feel like the lights are starting to turn on. If it’s okay, I’d like to talk some more. And if you have some book recommendations on race, I’d like to do some reading. And maybe we could watch a few movies together.”

Clarence slapped Jake on the back and grinned. “Yeah, I got ten or twenty I could recommend.”

“How about we start with one book and one movie, then go on from there? Your pick.”

Clarence nodded and pulled Jake into a side hug. The two friends walked to the door together.

Photo by Urban Sanden on Unsplash

Amazing Grace Sung by Believers from 50 Different Countries, United by Jesus

I have sometimes envisioned what it will mean for every tribe, nation, and language to gather together and sing the praises of Jesus, as is depicted in Revelation 5:9 and 7:9. I’m sure we’ll learn a lot of great new hymns and songs once we’re with Jesus, most of which we’ve never heard. But I feel nearly certain that one of those songs we’ll sing forever from this life is “Amazing Grace.”

It is one of those hymns that is cross-cultural and is sung by people in not just hundreds but thousands of languages. In fact, it may well be the most often-sung song of any kind in world history. Agnostics, skeptics, and hardened criminals have shed tears upon hearing it.

That’s why when I picture praise gatherings of countless millions on God’s New Earth, the song I hear them singing in thousands of languages is “Amazing Grace.” So I was particularly moved by this remarkable video, which I encourage you to watch and share with both believers and unbelievers. God has drawn many to Himself through this timeless hymn. May this united song from 50 countries touched by COVID-19 remind us that it is a far greater thing to be forever touched by Jesus.

Some more thoughts about this remarkable song: Imagine a slave ship captain, a cruel Englishman who acquired slaves from Africa and transported them in slave ships to be sold like animals at auction. Imagine that this man later writes lyrics that become the most popular song of English-speaking blacks in the entire world. Unthinkable?

That song is “Amazing Grace.” Some black churches sing it every Sunday. Sometimes it goes on and on, for ten or fifteen minutes. Many African-Americans love that song more than any other—even though it was written by a white man who sold black slaves and treated them like filth.

What can explain this? The same thing that explains how Christians throughout the centuries have treasured the letters of Paul, who zealously murdered Christians. It’s built into the message:

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound

that saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found;

was blind, but now I see.

The man who abused those slaves and the man who wrote that song were both named John Newton. Both shared the same DNA, but the songwriter was a new man. He became a pastor and labored to oppose the slave trade. Eighty-two years old and blind, Newton said shortly before he died, “My memory is nearly gone, but I remember two things: that I am a great sinner, and that Christ is a great Saviour.”

“Amazing Grace” moves my heart more than any song I’ve ever heard. This hymn has been recorded more often by more musicians than any other. It can be sung at the most secular event or pagan concert, and a hush will fall on the audience. Eyes tear up. And not just the eyes of Christians. Grace is what hearts cry out for!

Grace is what people long for, even those who don’t know Jesus.

Especially those who don’t know Jesus.

For more on this subject, see Randy’s devotional Beautiful and Scandalous and his book The Grace and Truth Paradox.

Photo by Andrew Butler on Unsplash

What Are My Loved Ones Experiencing in the Present Heaven?

A reader wrote, “I just finished the book Heaven. Knowing Jesus, I found it inspiring and well documented. I was disappointed there wasn’t more mentioned about the immediate Heaven, the one right after we leave this earth. I just lost a loved one and would like more information and clarity about what she is experiencing. I have read three books on Heaven, read a lot about the New Earth, but little about what happens when I die.”  

While my book Heaven centers on the New Earth, the eternal Heaven, a few chapters deal with the present Heaven. When a Christian dies he enters what theologians call the “intermediate state,” a transitional period between life on Earth and the future resurrection to life on the New Earth. Usually when we talk about “Heaven,” we mean the place that Christians go when they die. When we tell our children “Grandma’s now in Heaven,” we’re referring to what I prefer to call the present Heaven (the word intermediate sometimes confuses people).

Books on Heaven often fail to distinguish between the intermediate and eternal states, using the one word—Heaven—as all-inclusive. But this is an important distinction. The present Heaven is a temporary lodging, a waiting place (a delightful one!) until the return of Christ and our bodily resurrection. The eternal Heaven, the New Earth, is our true home, the place where we will live forever with our Lord and each other. The great redemptive promises of God will find their ultimate fulfillment on the New Earth, not in the present Heaven. God’s children are destined for life as resurrected beings on a resurrected Earth.

Though the present Heaven is not our final destination, it’s a wonderful place, and it’s understandable that those who have had loved ones die in Christ wonder what life is like for them there. Based on the Bible’s teaching, we know several things: the present Heaven is a real (and possibly physical) place. Those who love Jesus and trust Him for their salvation will be with Him there, together with all who have died in Christ. We will be awake and cognizant. And because we will be with Jesus, it is “better by far” than our present existence.

The Present Heaven Is a Real Place

Heaven is normally invisible to those living on Earth. For those who have trouble accepting the reality of an unseen realm, consider the perspective of researchers who embrace string theory. Scientists at Yale, Princeton, and Stanford, among others, have postulated that there are ten unobservable dimensions and likely an infinite number of imperceptible universes. If this is what some scientists believe, why should anyone feel self-conscious about believing in one unobservable dimension, a realm containing angels and Heaven and Hell?

The Bible teaches that sometimes humans are allowed to see into Heaven. When Stephen was being stoned because of his faith in Christ, he gazed into Heaven: “Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and ­Jesus standing at the right hand of God. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God’” (Acts 7:55-56). Scripture tells us not that Stephen dreamed this, but that he actually saw it.

Wayne Grudem points out that Stephen “did not see mere symbols of a state of existence. It was rather that his eyes were opened to see a spiritual dimension of reality which God has hidden from us in this present age, a dimension which none the less ­really does exist in our space/time universe, and within which ­Jesus now lives in his physical resurrected body, waiting even now for a time when he will return to earth.”

I agree with Grudem that the present Heaven is a space/time universe. He may be right that it’s part of our own universe, or it may be in a different universe. It could be a universe next door that’s normally hidden but sometimes opened. In any case, I don’t think God gave Stephen a vision in order to make Heaven appear physical. Rather, He allowed Stephen to see a present Heaven that was (and is) physical.

The prophet Elisha asked God to give his servant, Gehazi, a glimpse of the invisible realm. He prayed, “‘O Lord, open his eyes so he may see.’ Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha” (2 Kings 6:17). Acts 7 and 2 Kings 6 are narrative accounts, historical in nature, not apocalyptic or parabolic literature. The text is clear that Stephen and Gehazi saw real things.

The Present Heaven May Be a Physical Place

If we look at Scripture, we’ll see considerable evidence that the present Heaven has physical properties. We’re told there are scrolls in Heaven, elders who have faces, martyrs who wear clothes, and even people with palm branches in their hands. There are musical instruments in the present Heaven, horses coming into and out of Heaven, and an eagle flying overhead in Heaven.

Many commentators dismiss the possibility that any of these passages in Revelation should be taken literally, on the grounds that the book of Revelation is apocalyptic literature, which is known for its figures of speech. But the book of Hebrews isn’t apocalyptic, it’s epistolary. Moses was told, in building the earthly Tabernacle, “Be sure that you make everything according to the pattern I have shown you here on the mountain.” If that which was built after the pattern was physical, might it suggest the original was also physical? The book of Hebrews seems to say that we should see Earth as a derivative realm and Heaven as the source realm.

Unlike God and the angels, who are in essence spirits (John 4:24; Hebrews 1:14), human beings are by nature both spiritual and physical. God did not create Adam as a spirit and place it inside a body. Rather, He first created a body, then breathed into it a spirit. There was never a moment when a human being existed without a body. We are not essentially spirits who inhabit bodies; we are essentially as much physical as we are spiritual. We cannot be fully human without both a spirit and a body.

Given the consistent physical descriptions of the intermediate Heaven and those who dwell there, it seems possible—though this is certainly debatable—that between our earthly lives and our bodily resurrection God may grant us some temporary physical form that will allow us to function as human beings while in that unnatural state “between bodies” awaiting our bodily resurrection. If so, that would account for the repeated depictions of people now in Heaven occupying physical space, wearing clothes and crowns, carrying branches, and having body parts (for example, Lazarus’s finger in Luke 16:24).

A fundamental article of the Christian faith is that the resurrected Christ now dwells in Heaven. We are told that His resurrected body on Earth was physical and that this same, physical Jesus ascended to Heaven, from where He will one day return to Earth. It seems indisputable, then, to say that there is at least one physical body in the present Heaven. If Christ’s body in the intermediate Heaven has physical properties, it stands to reason that others in Heaven could have physical forms as well, even if only temporary ones.

To avoid misunderstanding, I need to emphasize a critical doctrinal point. According to Scripture, we do not receive resurrection bodies immediately after death. Resurrection does not happen one at a time. If we have intermediate forms in the intermediate Heaven, they will not be our true bodies, which we leave behind at death.

So if we are given material forms when we die (and I’m suggesting this possibility only because of the many Scriptures depicting physical forms in the present Heaven), they would be temporary vessels. Any understanding of people having physical forms immediately after death that would lead us to conclude that the future resurrection has already happened or is unnecessary is emphatically wrong!

We’ll Be Together with Christ and Those Who Love Him

As painful as death is, and as right as it is to grieve it (Jesus did), we on this dying Earth can also rejoice for our loved ones who are in the presence of Christ. When they die, those covered by Christ’s blood are experiencing the joy of Christ’s presence in a place so wonderful that Christ called it Paradise.

As the apostle Paul tells us, though we naturally grieve at losing loved ones, we are not “to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Our parting is not the end of our relationship, only an interruption. We have not “lost” them, because we know where they are. And one day, we’re told, in a magnificent reunion, they and we “will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage each other with these words” (1 Thessalonians 4:17-18).

Peter tells us, “You will receive a rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 1:11). God is the main welcomer, no doubt.  All eyes are on Jesus, the Cosmic Center, the Source of all Happiness. But wouldn’t it make sense for the secondary welcomers to be God’s people, those who touched our lives, and whose lives we touched? Wouldn’t that be a great greeting party?

Jesus said, “There is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents” (Luke 15:10). Angels probably rejoice too, but the ones living in the presence of angels Jesus refers to are likely God’s people, redeemed human beings, some of who knew and loved and prayed for the conversion of these sinners, and now are beholding the answers to their prayers. Wouldn’t such people be a natural part of the welcome committee when we enter Heaven?

I envision glorious reunions and amazing introductions, conversations and storytelling at banquets and on walks, jaws dropping and laughter long and hard, the laughter of Jesus being the most contagious.   

When I enter Heaven, I look forward to being hugged by my dear mother, who I led to Christ when I was a new believer in high school. Then I picture Mom, that broad smile on her face, presenting me with my sixth grandchild. In 2013 my daughter Angie had a miscarriage. This was a very painful time for our family, but one more reason I am looking forward to Heaven. When this happens, I will look at Jesus, nodding my thanks to the One with the nail-scarred hands, and I will not let my grandchild or my mother go. 

Those in the Present Heaven Are Awake and Alive

That we’ll receive “a rich welcome” necessitates that at death, we will be awake and conscious. Christ depicted Lazarus and the rich man as conscious in Heaven and Hell immediately after they died (Luke 16:22-31). Jesus told the dying thief on the cross, “Today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43). The apostle Paul said that to die was to be with Christ (Philippians 1:23), and to be absent from the body was to be present with the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:8). After their deaths, martyrs are pictured in Heaven, crying out to God to bring justice on Earth (Revelation 6:9-11).

These passages clearly teach that there is no such thing as “soul sleep,” or a long period of unconsciousness between life on Earth and life in Heaven. The phrase “fallen asleep” (in 1 Thessalonians 4:13 and similar passages) is a euphemism for death, describing the body’s outward appearance. The spirit’s departure from the body ends our existence on Earth. The physical part of us “sleeps” until the resurrection, while the spiritual part of us relocates to a conscious existence in Heaven (Daniel 12:2-3; 2 Corinthians 5:8).

Every reference in Revelation to human beings talking and worshiping in Heaven prior to the resurrection of the dead demonstrates that our spiritual beings are conscious, not sleeping, after death. (Nearly everyone who believes in soul sleep believes that souls are disembodied at death; it’s not clear how disembodied beings could sleep, because sleeping involves a physical body.)

As awake and conscious beings, those in Heaven are free to ask God questions (Revelation 6:9-11), which means they have an audience with God. It also means they can and do learn. They wouldn’t be asking questions if they already knew the answers. In Heaven, people desire understanding and pursue it. There is also time in the present Heaven. People are aware of time’s passing and are eager for the coming day of the Lord’s judgment. God answers that the martyrs must “rest a little longer.” Waiting requires the passing of time. I see no reason to believe that the realities of this passage apply only to one group of martyrs and to no one else in Heaven. We should assume that what is true of them is also true of our loved ones already there, and it will be true of us when we die.

Life in Christ’s Presence Is Better by Far

Paul says, “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.… I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far” (Philippians 1:21, 23). Life in the Heaven we go to when we die, where we’ll dwell prior to our bodily resurrection, is “better by far” than living here on Earth under the Curse, away from the direct presence of God.

Paul spoke from experience. He had actually been taken into Heaven years before writing those words (2 Corinthians 12:1–6). He knew firsthand what awaited him in Paradise. He wasn’t speculating when he called it gain. To be in the very presence of Jesus, enjoying the wonders of His being, and to be with God’s people and no longer subject to sin and suffering? “Better by far” is an understatement!

King David wrote, “In Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Psalm 16:11, NKJV). In the presence of God, there’s nothing but joy. Those who live in the presence of Christ find great happiness in worshiping God and living as righteous beings in rich fellowship in a sinless environment. And because God is continuously at work on Earth, the saints watching from Heaven have a great deal to praise Him for, including God’s drawing people on Earth to Himself (Luke 15:7, 10).

Our loved ones now in Heaven live in a place where joy is the air they breathe, and nothing they see on earth can diminish their joy. Their joy doesn’t depend on ignorance, but perspective, drawn from the Christ in whose presence they live. If you’re following Jesus, no doubt your loved ones there are rejoicing over you. The great cloud of witnesses of Hebrews 12 is now up in the stands of Heaven and watching you on the same playing field they once ran on. They’re looking forward to hearing Jesus say “Well done” to you, and they may also commend you for your service of Jesus!

But those in the present Heaven are also looking forward to Christ’s return, their bodily resurrection, the final judgment, and the fashioning of the New Earth from the ruins of the old. Only then and there, in the eternal Heaven, the home Jesus is preparing for us, will all evil and suffering and sorrow be washed away by the hand of God. Only then and there will we experience the fullness of joy intended by God and purchased for us by Christ, who we will forever praise!

See also my article Can We Or Should We Talk to Loved Ones in Heaven? and my book Heaven .

Photo by Kumiko SHIMIZU on Unsplash

Racial Justice and the Image of God

I hate what has happened in our country since George Floyd died while in police custody after his neck was pinned to the ground for a prolonged period in which he repeatedly said he couldn’t breathe. I hate what was done to Floyd, and I hate what others have done in effectively punishing other people by burning, destroying, and looting from them. (On the other hand, I have participated in peaceful protests myself, and I definitely defend the rights of others to do so thoughtfully and with self-control.)

To understand what’s happening in our country takes more than watching news and social media—it requires understanding history. I love Benjamin Watson and his character, integrity, and passions for Jesus and justice for all, including the unborn. I’ve read 50+ books on racial history and justice, many back when researching my novel Dominion.  Ben’s book Under Our Skin is the one I recommend most. In these reflections he wrote last week, Ben said this:

As Christ-followers, there’s a certain way we need to carry ourselves in the midst of injustice. We have a responsibility to do so. Our primary goal in this life is to bring God glory. That doesn’t mean we don’t address the issues of our day or engage in civic debate. As citizens and members of our specific communities, we should not remove ourselves from the situations that desperately need our attention. It does mean we have a mandate to engage in a way that brings glory to God and ultimately points people toward Him and the things He cares about. We are to do so in a way that is different than those who don’t know Him.

My son-in-law Dan Franklin, teaching pastor at Life Bible Fellowship Church in Upland, California, shared the following thoughts on Facebook yesterday. May Jesus be honored, justice prevail, and peace be upheld for the sake of all people. —Randy Alcorn

Perhaps the core reason that racism is so evil and incompatible with Christianity is because of the foundational teaching that all human beings are created in the image of God (Genesis 1:26-27). Many ancient cultures believed that only rulers or royals bore God’s image. But the Bible begins with the idea that every human being bears His image. This means that crimes against human beings are taken personally by God. Genesis 9:6 says, “Whoever sheds human blood, by humans shall their blood be shed; for in the image of God has God made mankind.” Proverbs 17:5 says, “Whoever mocks the poor shows contempt for their Maker.” Human beings have dignity and value and profundity because they bear the image of the almighty God of all.

This also gives new profundity to Jesus’ statement in Matthew 7:12 (often called The Golden Rule): “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.” We thank someone who gives us a gift—in part—because we would want to be thanked. We apologize when we are rude because we would want an apology if someone were rude to us. We want a defendant in a court case to have a vigorous and competent defense because we would want those same things if we were to trade places with that defendant.

When we see a man killed unjustly by a police officer, we want that police officer punished. This is not because we hate the police. This is not because we value one race over another race. This is because if I were killed unjustly by that police officer, I would not want him to go unpunished. And we also want him punished because we want all people to know the wrongness of that action, so that it is less likely to happen again.

On top of this, if I were part of an ethnic group that had suffered greatly in this nation, I would want others to show patience and compassion toward me whenever I got angry over acts of injustice and oppression. Even if sometimes I spoke too loudly, said words I shouldn’t have said, or blew up in frustration, I would hope that others would understand where I was coming from. Because of that, I know that this is God’s calling for me.

I don’t approve of the riots and the looting. I believe that they are absolutely counter-productive. I have no desire to excuse them. But I believe that it is incumbent upon all of us to look with empathy and to ask what kind of hopelessness and grief might lead us to act in a similar way. I am no better than any looter. I am no better than any rioter. I can sit in my safe home and say that they are acting wrongly (and I believe they are), but I would hope for some grace from others if I were so hopeless and angry and grief-stricken that I lashed out in a destructive way. We can have compassion without showing approval. We can seek to understand without seeking to excuse.

Not only am I no better than a looter, but the scary reality is that I am no better than any murderer. I have the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ on my hands. He died for MY sins. I believe that murderers should be punished severely, but I also thank God that His grace extends even to those of us who have sinned most egregiously, so that we can have new life and new hope.

Racism will always be with us because human beings will always—this side of Jesus renewing the earth—grab hold of ways to make themselves feel superior to others. We will use race, money, athleticism, attractiveness, social status, or anything else. And racism is a very real temptation for every single one of us. I don’t believe that there are racist people and non-racist people. I believe that all of us are vulnerable to act out in racist ways if we believe we can benefit from it. Thank God for His mercy for all of us.

As we grapple with the ongoing reality of racism and prejudice, we as Christians must cling to the reality of God’s image in each of us. Before spewing out a gut response to any situation, we ought to pause and make sure that we see ourselves in the person we are about to speak against. Before stereotyping and pre-judging, we must pause to see our faces in those pictures, videos, and stories. If we do, God will supply us with the humility to navigate these waters, to move closer to one another, and to experience more of the healing that the Great Physician has brought us.

From Randy: Finally, this is a beautiful and heartfelt prayer from long-term Minneapolis resident John Piper. It’s full of grace and truth, including but not limited to racial justice. I recommend listening to it rather than reading it, because you will hear something in John’s voice that words on a page or screen can’t capture.

Photo by munshots on Unsplash

Enjoying Maggie Grace, Then and Now

Almost eight and a half years ago, I shared this on my blog:

Nanci and I are enjoying our first week with our new Golden Retriever puppy, Maggie Grace, who is nine weeks old.

She’s pretty adorable, so I keep pulling out the camera. These are two slideshows, one of which I posted on Facebook Monday night, the second of which I haven’t posted until now.

God graciously links the hearts of people to their animals. That was his plan from the beginning. You’ve heard of therapy dogs? Most dogs are therapy dogs, to the families they’ve been entrusted to. Maggie has already been therapy for us. We thank God for her.

“The godly care for their animals” (Proverbs 12:10, NLT).

First slideshow of our Maggie, 2:13 min.: 

Second slideshow of Maggie, 2:26 min.: 

Here are a couple of photos of Maggie as an eight-year-old (equivalent to about 60 human years, so she’s catching up with us). We love her more than ever, even as she’s slowing down a bit (but she can still dig and chase rabbits with the best of them). Maggie is hanging out with our dear friends’ Steve and Sue Keels’ rapidly growing six-month-old pup Bo, a goldendoodle. He has become to the Keels a wonderful friend and therapy dog after the loss of their son Jason six months ago. I took these of Maggie and Bo when they had a play date at our house a few days ago. Thankfully they didn’t have to social distance with each other or with us!

Nanci and I often share with each other dog photos and videos. Dogs have brought us much joy and laughter, and both are great gifts from God. Some quotes about dogs, hope you enjoy them:

“Scratch a dog and you’ll find a permanent job.” —Franklin P. Jones

“It is amazing how much love and laughter they bring into our lives and even how much closer we become with each other because of them.” —John Grogan 

“Dogs have given us their absolute all. We are the center of their universe. We are the focus of their love and faith and trust. They serve us in return for scraps. It is without a doubt the best deal man has ever made.” —Roger A. Caras 

“Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.” —Groucho Marx

“Anybody who doesn't know what soap tastes like never washed a dog.” —Franklin P. Jones

“When an 85-pound mammal licks your tears away, then tries to sit on your lap, it’s hard to feel sad.” —Kristan Higgins 

“Be comforted, little dog, thou too in the Resurrection shall have a tail of gold.” —Martin Luther

Lessons from the Life and Ministry of Ravi Zacharias

Author, speaker, and apologist Ravi Zacharias went home to be with Jesus last week. He was a humble, Jesus-loving brother who spoke to millions of people but, in my experience, made everyone he talked with feel like they are the only one around. I thank my Lord Jesus for showing me his humility through Ravi, a great man who didn’t know he was great. (See my recent blog featuring Ravi answering questions along with Hugh Ross, and a personal story that demonstrates his heart for others.)

There have been several excellent tributes to Ravi, including this one from Amy Orr-Ewing, a senior vice president with Ravi Zacharias International Ministries. She writes,

As popular consensus told us that young people can’t concentrate for prolonged periods of time, Ravi preached to packed-out audiences in pin-drop silence. Many of his hearers were the young, teenagers and students figuring out life’s big questions. His messages combined profound philosophical insights, multiple literary allusions and straightforward explanations of the gospel. For Ravi, questions lead us towards God and not away from him. He was not afraid to explore the deepest and hardest questions facing the world and to set forth how Christ meets humanity there. He was utterly confident that the Christian faith had profound meaning to offer in the darkest shades of the soul.

Alister McGrath wrote for The Gospel Coalition about Ravi’s legacy, and Sam Allberry shared three lessons he learned from working with and observing him. May these be true of us, too, as we share about the good news of Jesus with others:

3 Lessons I Learned from Working with Ravi Zacharias

By Sam Allberry

There’s a 20-year-old scrunched-up piece of paper carefully filed away in my office. It’s scrunched up because it was the only thing I had at hand when I realized I urgently needed something to write on, and it’s carefully filed because scribbled over every inch of it are notes from the first talk I ever heard from Ravi Zacharias. 

Ravi was speaking at an evangelistic event for students at the University of Oxford in the early 2000s. I’d heard his name from others but had never heard him speak. I was working for a campus ministry at Oxford at the time and went to hear him speak. It was what I now know to be vintage Ravi––high-altitude, incisive, and compelling.

But it was the extended question time afterward that really made me sit up. Ravi was being asked about everything from gay marriage to quantum physics, and what struck me wasn’t so much that he had something to say in response to each question, though that itself is no small thing. It was the way in which he spoke. Ravi was someone who’d been doing this sort of thing for decades, but none of his answers felt canned. Each felt so fresh, so personal and respectful. So I found the only piece of paper I had on me––a scrunched-up handout in my pocket from a meeting I’d just come from––and scribbled furiously anywhere I could––around the margins, in the gaps between what was already on it, and in an ever-decreasing font size to fit as much as possible. 

It’s been four years since I started working with Ravi Zacharias International Ministries as an itinerant speaker. I’ve had multiple opportunities to see Ravi in action and behind the scenes. We’re now a large and global speaking team, with around 100 speakers from yall parts of the world, but Ravi has very much shaped the tone and culture of the team.

Here are three things I’ve learned from working with Ravi.

1. The person matters more than the question.

I’ve never really felt like I was an evangelist. Every image that comes to mind when I hear that word is of something I’m not––gregarious, extroverted, or super confident.

But what I’ve seen from Ravi’s ministry is that what has makes him such an effective evangelist is that he’s actually pastoring unbelievers. His focus is the person, irrespective of their question or demeanor. When he would return from trips and report to the team, he would always mention particular individuals for us to pray for, especially those carrying deep wounds and pains. “Answer the questioner, not the question,” he would often say. When a student approached a microphone to ask a question, he wouldn’t be seeing a challenge that needed to be met, or an obstacle that needed to be dealt with, or an argument that needed to be won. He would see a person who needed ministering to.

Whether the question was answered amazingly wasn’t the key issue; what really mattered was responding to the person, not just what they were saying. 

2. Tone is as important as content.

It’s easy to reduce apologetics to argumentation. I’ve seen Christians who seem to think that contending for the gospel means stomping over everyone who raises any objections to faith. But it’s all too possible to win an argument and yet end up losing the person––as though the gospel was advanced by a succession of mic-drop moments. 

But Scripture shows us something different. When Peter calls us to be ready to give an answer for the hope we have, his attention is on our demeanor, not just our words: “Always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect” (1 Pet. 3:16). This text has been foundational for Ravi, and, through him, for the whole team. Tone matters. A true word said ungraciously will not commend the gospel. We can un-preach with our manner what we think we’re preaching with our words.

Peter’s words don’t include the caveat “unless they’re a jerk, in which case you can unload on them.” There were many times at a university forum, when a student would ask something in a snarky way. But Ravi would always aim to respond with gentleness and respect. It could often be disarming. They may have just treated him with disdain, but his response was both dignified and dignifying. He didn’t belittle others, or humiliate them. 

3. The cross is the heart of the message.

Ravi’s calling was always as an evangelist. His work as an apologist was in service to that calling. The phrase we would often hear was “evangelism undergirded by apologetics.” Apologetics was never an end in itself, as though the aim of the game was mainly to show that our thinking and beliefs were superior to those of others. The place for apologetics was in serving the promotion of the gospel itself.

Ravi’s message wasn’t so much the intellectual credibility of the faith (though he has done more than anyone else in this generation to commend that); it was Christ crucified. When Paul said, “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2), he didn’t mean that he only talked about the cross; rather, he meant the cross was the animating heart of everything he did say. Ravi’s goal wasn’t to demonstrate the shallowness of, say, secular thinking; his goal was to present Christ. He didn’t preach an argument; he used argumentation to preach a person. 

Ravi has now gone to be with the Christ he so loved to proclaim. He wasn’t a perfect man (and he would be the first to stress that), but he did know someone who was, and did all that he could to commend him. 

This article was originally posted on  The Gospel Coalition  and is used with permission of the author.

Katie Gaultney writes in WORLD Magazine’s tribute to Ravi:

[Ravi] said he also loved the culinary arts, writing once, “My family still thinks that after I retire, I will open a small restaurant somewhere. If I ever did, it would be for great conversations around a great meal.”

In my book Heaven I write that there’s a biblical and logical basis for believing that on the New Earth we will have the privilege of living out some of the dreams we had for this life that we weren’t able to fulfill. Perhaps on the New Earth, Ravi will get to live out his dream of cooking and/or having a restaurant, one open to people of every tribe, nation, and language. In any event, I look forward to the great food and conversations around the tables on that redeemed and resurrected earth, and to seeing my brother Ravi again, in the presence of King Jesus!

Photo: RZIM

Ten Biblical Reasons to Give, and an Opportunity to Serve Needy Children through Compassion’s Fill the Stadium

Our family has continuously sponsored a number of children through Compassion for over 30 years, since our daughters were small (I believe they were six and four when we first started!). It seems the photos of Compassion children, and their letters to us, have always been on our refrigerator. Those are heartwarming memories. It has been a joy to be connected with their ministry.  

With the help of Pro Athletes Outreach, Compassion has recently launched Fill the Stadium:

COVID-19 has left nearly 70,000 children without a sponsor. That’s the capacity of the average NFL stadium! As the world is in the grips of COVID-19, it has led to more than sickness. Parents can’t work. Food is scarce. Our frontline church partners around the world are courageously delivering essential items to desperate children and families—often door to door.

Compassion and some of our Pro Athlete friends have teamed up to respond to this challenge. With your help, we’re hoping to ‘fill the stadium’ with urgent support for a stadium’s worth of children in crisis.

My strong conviction is that if I’m going to speak on behalf of a cause, I want to make sure I’ve given to it and am planning on giving more. Eternal Perspective Ministries has given to Compassion and Pro Athletes Outreach, and recently to Fill the Stadium, and we wouldn’t do that unless we believed in them. I encourage you to prayerfully consider giving to this project, and also to other worthy ministries.

Here are ten biblical reasons to give to causes like this one, which help children in Jesus’ name:

1. Giving shows love for God. The first and greatest command is to love the Lord God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength (Mark 12:30).

2. Giving shows love for people. To give is to love your neighbor as yourself. This is the heart of the Good Samaritan, who showed mercy and sacrificially loved his neighbor. Jesus said, “You go, and do likewise” (Luke 10:37).

3. Giving to help children recognizes their value to Jesus and their special need for care and protection. Jesus said in Matthew 19:14, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” The disciples might have been telling people, “Keep the children to the side. They’re just distracting. The Lord is here to teach the multitudes, but children get in the way.” But Jesus said, “No. Let them come to me.” He held them in His arms and elevated their status when He said, “The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.” God puts great value in the loving, trusting heart of a child.

(By the way, Nanci and I loved watching the miniseries The Chosen, about Jesus’s life. The third episode is called “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” and it’s powerful. I highly recommend it for you and your whole family!)

There’s another intriguing (and often overlooked) verse related to God’s special love for children. In Matthew 18:10 Jesus says, “See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.” At first glance, we might think Jesus is saying that children have guardian angels. That may very well be true, but guardian angels would be here on earth around us, engaged in spiritual battle. There are some passages that imply their presence in our lives, but these particular angels Jesus refers to in Matthew 18:10 are not engaged in spiritual warfare on earth. Instead, they are in Heaven, continuously beholding the face of the Father.

What does that mean? I think it means God has appointed angels in Heaven who bring the cause of the children constantly before Him. It’s not like God doesn’t know or care what’s happening in their lives, but He often chooses to use secondary agents (like His followers) to do His work. He’s sovereign and all-knowing and doesn’t need angels to do that, any more than He needs us. But He chooses to have angels representing the cause of children and being a voice for them before Him. That’s a staggering thought.

God also has special rewards for those who help children, and conversely, special judgment for those who harm children. Jesus says in Luke 17:13 that it would be better for those who harm little ones to be thrown in the sea with a millstone around their neck. God absolutely hates the neglecting and exploiting of children, including sex trafficking and other forms of slavery.

4. Giving to the needy is giving to God. He says, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). In Acts 9:5, Jesus says to Paul, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” Now, Paul was persecuting Christians. But Jesus says that if you do it to His people, you’ve done it to Him. In the same way, giving to the needy is giving to God.

Proverbs 19:17 says, “Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the LORD, and he will reward them for what they have done” (NIV). That's a striking verse, because God doesn’t owe us anything—we owe Him everything! But when we are generous to the poor, we are lending to the Lord. In that verse “LORD” is the personal name of God, Yahweh. We are lending to Yahweh, and He's going to pay us back, incredible as that sounds. But we didn’t come up with this idea—He did!

Scripture is full of hundreds and hundreds of calls to give to the poor and the needy. God, in His sovereign love and care for them, says, “When you give to them, I will take it upon myself as it were my personal debt, and I will pay you back (by implication) with interest.”

This isn’t about prosperity theology or the health and wealth gospel. We're talking about a payoff that's going to come in the life to come, and about storing up treasures for ourselves in Heaven, to God’s glory.

5. Giving brings us joy. In Acts 20:35, Jesus said, “There is more happiness in giving than in receiving” (GNT). Let’s not miss the joy it brings to our lives! A friend once asked me, “Do you know any generous person who’s unhappy?” I gave it a lot of thought. I know many generous people. Some have been through great tragedies. Some have dealt with seasons of depression and anxiety. But would I, overall, describe any of them as unhappy? No. Their generosity infuses joy into their lives and eclipses their many reasons to be sad.

6. Giving brings us purpose and adventure. Sometimes I meet Christians who seem utterly bored with their lives. There is a great cure for boredom, although it’s one people don’t typically consider: giving more time, money, and energy to God’s Kingdom work, and inviting God to open our eyes to the needs surrounding us.

7. Giving is contagious. In fact, it’s just as contagious as materialism. However, it brings life instead of death, and inspires others to enter into a greater love and joy and purpose.  

8. Giving brings us eternal reward from God. When we give, we exchange treasures on earth that won’t last for treasures in Heaven that will last forever.

In Luke 14, Jesus was talking to a man who had invited him to a banquet, as well as to all the people who were guests there. (By the way, Jesus went to parties. The Pharisees didn’t!) He said, “When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors” (v.12). No doubt, the disciples and the other guests were thinking, Why not? Isn't that the normal thing to do? But Jesus said not to do so, “lest they also invite you in return and you be repaid.” Again, the disciples are probably thinking, That's the usual way it works, Lord!

Jesus said, “But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you” (v. 13-14). It almost sounds like He is saying no one should ever want to be repaid—as if being repaid is a bad or unspiritual thing.

But then Jesus turned it all on its head by saying if you put on the banquet (for example, by meeting the needs of others and giving to the cause of the poor, like the children that Compassion and other ministries serve), then “you will be repaid at the resurrection of the just” (v.14). Let me be clear: we are covered by the blood of Christ, and that's the only way we’ll stand before the Lord. Our salvation isn’t earned by works of righteousness which we have done, like giving, but is according to His mercy. But God will choose to reward us for what we have done on His behalf and for loving our neighbors as ourselves by giving, especially to the most needy.

9. Giving moves our hearts to what will matter forever. Where you put your treasure, there your heart will be also. Do you want a big heart for the things of God? Give your treasure to the things of God, including projects like Fill the Stadium.

10. Giving has the power to break the back of the money idol. It frees our hearts to fully worship God and is a true investment in eternity. As long as I still have something, I believe I own it. But when I give it away, I relinquish the control, power, and prestige that come with wealth. At the moment of release, the light turns on. The magic spell is broken. My mind clears, and I recognize God as owner, myself as servant, and other people as intended beneficiaries of what God has entrusted to me.

Learn more about Fill the Stadium. Your donation provides children in need with critical resource and the opportunity to be included in a Compassion program during this global health crisis.

For more on giving, see Randy’s books Giving Is the Good Life, The Treasure Principle, and The Law of Rewards.

Photo by Tucker Tangeman on Unsplash