Randy Alcorn's Blog, page 98

Freedom from the Tyranny of the Phone

For years, when my daughters were young and I was a pastor, I lived under the tyranny of the telephone. I treated the ringing of the phone as a divine mandate, and I missed too many dinners and bedtime prayers with my daughters because of that phone—no, actually because of my choice to answer the phone.

Finally I discovered something that changed my life: phone calls are seldom from Mt. Sinai. There are few true emergencies and it won’t hurt people to wait an hour or a day for me to call. When my daughters were growing up there weren’t cell phones, and one of the best things about going out for the evening as a family was that nobody could reach us! We can do the same thing now—but it requires silencing the phone. You don’t have to see who’s calling, texting, tweeting, Facebooking, or…fill in the blank. In fact, if you do, you’re saying they are more important than the people you are with. “Wherever you are, be there.”

Nanci and I learned over thirty years ago that the phone is our servant, not our master. By God’s grace that lesson stuck. Sure, we still get calls during dinner. We just don’t answer them! And we are guilt-free, because we know it’s what God wants. (The messages come in, and if it’s important we’ll pick up. But guess what—it’s almost never important enough to interrupt dinner!) Looking back, I’m amazed and embarrassed that until I was thirty I let that piece of technology disrupt me and my family. All because I didn’t take control. Thank you, Lord, for waking me up when you did!

Excerpted from Randy and Nanci Alcorn’s book Help for Women Under Stress.

Photo by NordWood Themes on Unsplash

Seeing Jesus: The Happiest-Making Sight

Ancient theologians often spoke of the “beatific vision.” The term comes from three Latin words that together mean “a happy-making sight.” The sight they spoke of was God. To see God’s face is the loftiest of all aspirations. But sadly, for most of us, it’s not at the top of our list of desires.

Wayne Grudem writes in his Systematic Theology:

When we look into the face of our Lord and he looks back at us with infinite love, we will see in him the fulfillment of everything that we know to be good and right and desirable in the universe. In the face of God we will see the fulfillment of all the longing we have ever had to know perfect love, peace, and joy, and to know truth and justice, holiness and wisdom, goodness and power, and glory and beauty.

The most astonishing sight we can anticipate in Heaven is not streets of gold or pearly gates or loved ones who’ve died before us. It will be coming face-to-face with our Savior. To look into Jesus’ eyes will be to see what we’ve always longed to see: the person who made us and for whom we were made. And we’ll see Him in the place He made for us and for which we were made. Seeing God will be like seeing everything else for the first time.

I sometimes ponder what it’ll be like to see Jesus, to fall on my knees before Him, then talk with Him and eat with Him and walk with Him as a resurrected person living on a resurrected Earth. Like Job I’m struck with the realization that “I myself will see him with my own eyes—I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me!”

I try to picture what this will be like in my novel Edge of Eternity, when the main character, Nick Seagrave, at last gazes on Jesus Christ:

The King stepped from the great city, just outside the gate, and put his hand on my shoulder. I was aware of no one and nothing but him. I saw before me an aged, weathered King, thoughtful guardian of an empire. But I also saw a virile Warrior-Prince primed for battle, eager to mount his steed and march in conquest. His eyes were keen as sharpened swords yet deep as wells, full of the memories of the old and the dreams of the young.

Shut your eyes and imagine seeing Jesus for the first time. What a wondrous thought! And what a wondrous promise!

Excerpted from Randy's book Face to Face with Jesus.

Right now, you can purchase one copy of Randy Alcorn’s Face to Face with Jesus devotional from EPM for $8.99 (retail $12.99) and get a second copy of Face to Face with Jesus free! No code necessary. No limit to number ordered. Your free book will be automatically added to your cart.

Offer ends Thursday, July 11 at 12:00pm PT (noon) 

“I’m 74. So I’ve read a whole lot of good books. This book is more than good. It is powerful and full of life. I love the way he uses scripture and quotes from Christian leaders and writers to dig deeply into Jesus, the Son of God. It’s as casual as you want, or as in-depth as you make it. I will read, and re-read this wonderful book, I’m certain of that.” —Reviewer on Amazon

Image by Ben White from Christianpics.co

Abortion and Our Souls: Responding to Pro-Choice Logic

Today’s blog was written by my son-in-law Dan Franklin, who is married to my daughter Karina. Dan, teaching pastor at Life Bible Fellowship in Upland, California, is a great communicator, and if you follow my blog, you probably know I like to share posts from him from time to time.

Thanks, Dan, for speaking up for the unborn and helping the rest of us know how to speak up and engage others in conversation about abortion.

Many of those we talk to have vested interests in abortion. They’ve either had one themselves, or have advised another—perhaps a friend, wife, or daugh­ter—to have one, or have aided them in doing so. We need both grace and truth as we address abortion. Before we can speak the truth in love, we need to recognize what is true and what isn’t. That’s what this article is about. —Randy Alcorn

The subject of abortion has long been close to my heart. This is first and foremost because I believe it is a matter of life and death for a vulnerable baby. I believe every abortion kills a human being created in the image of God. Secondarily, though, the subject of abortion is close to my heart because I believe that when we champion and defend abortion, we sacrifice a bit of our souls. I think this is true of us as individuals and also as a nation. How we treat our most vulnerable says something powerful about our souls. This is true when it comes to mistreating people because of their race, their gender, their economic status, and their capabilities. It also applies to abortion because the practice of abortion says we will take it upon ourselves to remove another person from the planet because they inconvenience us.

Since the subject of abortion is prominent in the news once again, I want to lay out some responses to the most common pro-choice arguments that I hear. My intention here is not to straw-man anyone. It is simply to share responses to arguments that, to many, appear to be air-tight. I do not see them as air-right at all. I see them as arguments that are pretty easily answered from a pro-life perspective.

“This is a war on women.”

No, it isn’t. Simple facts say otherwise. Polls consistently show that women in the United States are split down the middle on this question. About half are pro-life and about half are pro-choice. It is simply factually inaccurate to spin this as a bunch of men making decisions in order to disadvantage women.

As another note on this, there are more women who vote in the United States than there are men who vote. If this was simply a war on women, then women could easily turn the tide on this. But many, many women in the United States ardently oppose abortion.

“This is about bodily autonomy.”

No one in the United States has complete bodily autonomy. I cannot trespass on someone else’s property. If I was being removed after trespassing, it would not be valid for me to shout that I have the right to do whatever I want with my own body. I don’t have that right. I don’t have the right to assault others, rape others, throw objects at others, or take other people’s property. I have to control my body and obey laws. No one has complete bodily autonomy.

Of course, pregnancy is a unique situation. The baby is growing in the mother’s body. The baby has a huge impact on the mother’s body. Pregnancy is an amazing thing. This is why pregnant women often have friends and family who help out during those nine months. The baby has a big impact on the mother’s body.

But the baby is not the same as the mother’s body. The baby is not a part of the mother’s body. If it was, then the mother would suddenly have four legs, twenty fingers, two heads, and—perhaps—a penis.

The Keep-Your-Hands-Off-My-Body slogan is disingenuous. No pro-life person wants to keep any woman from making decisions about what she wears, what she eats, whether she has her appendix removed, or whether she exercises regularly. This is not about men—or other women—trying to control a woman’s body. This is about trying to protect the life of the young man or woman in the womb.

“What about when the mother’s life is at risk?”

I know of no pro-life advocate who doesn’t see this as an exception. We can move on.

“What about in cases of rape?”

Rape is, of course, horrific. Rapists should be arrested, convicted, and imprisoned. This is hardly a controversy in our culture. There is near-unanimity of the wrongness of rape.

But a baby conceived through a rape is still a baby. In fact, there are men and women walking around today who were conceived through rape. Should they have been killed because of the evil actions of someone else? I don’t believe they should have been.

When a woman becomes pregnant because of rape, I think her family, her friends, her church (if she has one), and her community should all gather around her, support her, and help her in any way they can. I think they should champion her as an amazing woman who treasures life enough to be willing to bear that baby and then make a choice about adoption or mothering.

It is clearly a situation in which the mother is a victim of evil. This doesn’t make killing the baby a good solution.

And, to be fair, abortions that are performed in cases of rape make up less than 1% of all abortions. So, my question to the person who brings up cases of rape is this: “Are you willing to say that rape—and the life of the other—are the only cases when abortion should be made available?” The answer is almost always, “No, I think a woman should always have the right to choose.” In that case, then it is not helpful to bring up the “exception” for rape. If pro-life people made this exception, it would clearly not appease those who demand full abortion rights.

“But having the baby will ruin the mother’s life.”

Having the baby will certainly impact the mother’s life. There is no question about that. The mother will, in some cases, have to quit school or find a different job. This is 100% true.

But no person’s career or education is more important than the life of a human being created in the image of God. If I get caught embezzling at work and someone is going to expose me so that I will face termination and imprisonment, I don’t get to kill that person. As painful as the consequences of my actions would be, I would need to accept them.

And I absolutely reject the idea that a baby ruins the life of a parent. People consistently experience the joy of children even when they are unplanned and incredibly inconvenient. In fact, in many of those cases, mothers talk about how glad they are to have their child, despite the fact that the pregnancy was unplanned and inconvenient.

“Abortion is legal.”

Yes, this is true. This is a strange argument, but it comes up fairly frequently. The argument goes something like this, “Well, abortion is legal and therefore women should have a right to choose it.” Yes, abortion is legal. But this argument seems to assume that if something is legal then it is therefore good or moral. Slavery was once legal. That didn’t make it moral. No pro-life person is arguing that abortion is not legal. Many of us are arguing that it should not be legal because it is immoral.

“A woman should not have to have a child if she doesn’t want one.”

We all have to face things that we don’t want to happen. Sometimes we have expenses because of health problems. But we don’t get to say, “Yes, I broke a law, but I shouldn’t have to deal with a fine.” Just because a thing is unwanted does not mean that we have a right to reject or avoid it.

A married man has a legal right to have an affair. But he does not have the right to have an affair and then expect that this will not have consequences for his life and marriage. Similarly, a woman could save sex for marriage, which would make her far less likely to end up with an unwanted pregnancy. But she also has the legal right to have sex outside of marriage, and even to have casual sex with as much frequency as she can manage. But she doesn’t have the right to expect that there will be no consequences for this. And it is immoral to kill a baby simply because he or she doesn’t fit into our plans.

I don’t at all presume that this article solves all problems—or even that it convinces a great number of people to change their minds on abortion. But those of us who are pro-life need to be willing to use our voices for the sake of precious unborn children, and also for the sake of the soul of our nation. Abortion is not a victimless crime. It kills not only a baby, but also a piece of our own souls.

Browse more prolife articles and resources, and see Randy’s books Why ProLife? and ProLife Answers to ProChoice Arguments.

Image by Victor Ramos from Pixabay

Seek the Giver, Not the Gift?

The idea that we should seek the giver, not the gift, has truth behind it, but it can be misleading.

Suppose I said to my wife, “Nanci, I love you. Therefore I will not love the meals you cook, the books you gave me, the Christmas presents from you, or the vacation we went on.”

Would that make any sense? No. If I love gifts and vacation more than I love Nanci, that would obviously be wrong. But as long as she is foremost in my mind, by loving the meal Nanci prepares and the books she gives me, I honor her. So it is with God.

I can appreciate and enjoy a bike ride on a beautiful day, fully aware that the pure pleasure of it is God’s gift to me. By enjoying it, I’m enjoying Him.

Many believers have overspiritualized church, preaching, and prayer, and in doing so they have distanced God from creation, pleasure, and happiness. “Seek the giver, not the gift” can be an apt warning against idolatry in certain contexts, but as a general rule, it’s misguided.

What we should say instead is, “Seek the giver through the gift” or “in the gift.” Nanci and I are right to thoroughly enjoy the wonderful meals we have with four close friends on Thursday nights. We’re aware that our friends and the food, and our capacity to enjoy both, are God’s gifts to us. By enjoying these gatherings, in which we often speak of him, we are enjoying our Lord.

French Reformer John Calvin (1509–1564) wrote, “In despising the gifts, we insult the Giver.”

Scripture commands us to “earnestly desire the greater gifts” (1 Corinthians 12:31, NIV). But desiring God’s gifts does not mean we must value the gifts above Him.

Dissociating God from His gifts isn’t the solution; it’s the problem. Instead of viewing God’s gifts as demonic temptations, we should view them as benevolent extensions of His love and grace. His gifts to us are not gods—but they are God’s.

As long as we see God in His gifts to us, we need not be suspicious of them. We need not feel shame because they make us happy—they are simply doing what he designed them to do.

God is the primary source of all happiness. He has filled the world with secondary sources of happiness. They are all tributaries that can be traced back to the roaring rivers and boundless oceans of God’s own happiness that He will reveal for His children throughout eternity (see Ephesians 2:7).

God Himself is by far the greatest gift. As long as we see God in His gifts to us and thank Him wholeheartedly for them, we need not fear we’re appreciating them too much.

This blog is excerpted from Randy’s book Does God Want Us to Be Happy?, which is available for preorder from EPM (releases August 6, 2019).

Does God Want Us to Be Happy? offers a collection of short, easy readings on one of life’s biggest questions: in a world full of brokenness, is happiness a worthy pursuit for Christians? 

Photo by Jeremy Cai on Unsplash

Learning to Be Content and Trust God in Any Circumstances

Each phase of life is different, with its own challenges but also its own rewards. The way to contentment is to trust God’s purposes in our present circumstances. For many of us, there’s major uncertainty about where we will be or what we will be doing a few months from now or even tomorrow.

Contentment must be learned. God is our teacher and source of contentment: “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:12-13).

Paul wrote this from jail, and that he could say he was content in unjust imprisonment and without many material goods tells you something about his trust in the all-powerful God who was his source of strength.

Scottish theologian Sinclair Ferguson writes, “Christian contentment…is the direct fruit of having no higher ambition than to belong to the Lord and to be totally at His disposal in the place He appoints, at the time He chooses, with the provision He is pleased to make.”

When my wife Nanci was going through cancer treatments last year, we had to purposely look to King Jesus for contentment. In some moments we felt 100% content. Then in other moments we were fortunate to feel 50%, if that. But regardless of what I feel in any moment, or what you feel, God is 100% in control, trustworthy, and loving.

May we trust Him and be content with what He’s doing, even when we don’t know what that is. That’s faith.

“The righteous shall live by faith” (Romans 1:17).

“We walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7).

Browse more resources on the topic of trials and suffering, and see Randy’s related books, including If God Is Good.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

An $8.2 Million Judgment, Over $8.2 Million in Royalties Given Away, and God’s Sovereign Grace in Your Life and Mine

Note from Randy: Many of my readers already know this story, but I wanted to share it for others who might not have yet heard it. It also sets up why the fact that our ministry has now given away over $8.2 million in book royalties is so significant!

In 1990, I was a pastor of a large church Nanci and I had helped start in 1977, making a good salary and earning book royalties. I had been a pastor for thirteen years, and I didn’t want to do anything else. Had you asked me what I expected to be doing in another thirty years I would have said, “Continuing to serve as a pastor at Good Shepherd Community Church.” Then our family’s life was turned upside down.

I was on the board of a pregnancy resource center, and we had opened our home to a pregnant teenager, helping her place her baby for adoption in a Christian home. We also had the joy of seeing her come to faith in Christ.

After searching Scripture and praying, I began participating in peaceful, nonviolent civil disobedience at abortion clinics. We simply stood in front of the doors to advocate on behalf of unborn children scheduled to die. I did this nine times in a twelve month period and was arrested seven of those times.  

An abortion clinic won a court judgment against a group of us. We were told we were liable to pay $2,800 for having prevented ten abortions (child-killings) on a particular day. We were also made liable for the abortion clinic’s legal fees, which were over $19,000. Like most of the others, I refused to pay.

I stood before a judge in Portland and told him I would pay anything I owed to anyone else, but I could not in good conscience willingly hand over money to people who would use it to kill babies. I explained to the court and the media and all who were there the human rights of the unborn children, and the established history of civil disobedience to defend human rights. I quoted from Martin Luther King, Jr. among others. I had no idea when I prepared my statement that I would be standing before an African American judge.

Unlike other judges I’d stood before who were disinterested, dismissive, or clearly angry, this particular judge listened intently as I spoke. After I spoke of civil disobedience for matters of human rights and social justice, and quoted MLK, I said there is no more basic human right than the right to live. I saw the emotion on the judge’s face. He paused before responding. Then he said something beautiful I’ve never forgotten: “One day you may see me out there standing on that sidewalk beside you. But today I am a judge and must follow the law.”

He sentenced me to jail for just two days. Amidst news photographers with strobes flashing, I was chained at both the hands and feet, and led away from the courtroom to the Multnomah County jail. It was not an easy time for my church and my fellow pastors, since people’s idea of the ministry usually doesn’t include newspaper photos and television news about their pastor being arrested and going to jail.

Not long after this, I discovered that my church was about to receive a writ of garnishment in which the court would try to force them to surrender one-fourth of my wages each month to the abortion clinic. The church would have to either pay the abortion clinic or defy a court order. To prevent this, I resigned the day before the writ of garnishment was delivered. I’d already divested myself of book royalties. The only way I could avoid garnishment in the future was to make no more than minimum wage. Fortunately, our family had been living on only a portion of my church salary, and we had just made our final house payment.

Another court judgment followed, involving another abortion clinic. They requested a half million dollars in punitive damages against each of the defendants—for totally peaceful and nonviolent actions—to persuade us not to rescue again. In court, the owner and staff of an abortion clinic falsely accused me and others of yelling and swearing at women, calling them names, and putting our hands on them as they attempted to enter the abortion clinic. When a Portland pastor testified that he had watched as we quietly and peacefully stood in front of the door, blocking access to the place where innocent children were being killed, the judge’s anger erupted. Finally the judge issued a directed verdict. He told the jury they must find us guilty and choose a punitive amount sufficient to deter us from ever coming to the clinic again.

On February 11, 1991, nine of the twelve jurors agreed to award the abortion clinic $8.2 million dollars, averaging about $250,000 per defendant. It was the largest judgment ever against a group of peaceful protestors. It seemed likely our family would lose our house, and we would not be able to continue to send our children to the school they loved, Good Shepherd School.

By all appearances, our lives had taken a devastating turn. Right?

Wrong. That judgment was one of the best things that ever happened to us. Because what others intended for evil, God intended for good (Genesis 50:20).

My family faced this situation with the firm belief that God is all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-loving, and that no matter what happened, He would work things out for our ultimate good (Romans 8:28). That is exactly what He did! The fact that we lost the case was irrelevant. We’re fortunate not to have to wait for eternity to see how God worked it for good. We’ve already seen it in countless ways, though no doubt we’ll learn more when we’re with Him.

God is sovereign over all the apparent uncertainties and negative twists in your life and mine. He is never taken by surprise, never perplexed, never faced with circumstances out of His control. In this situation, God’s hands weren’t tied by the vengeance of child-killers. He didn’t merely “make the best of a bad situation.” He took a bad situation and used it for His highest good. So much so that I can no longer think of it as a bad situation—it was a severe mercy, a grace disguised in hardship. 

I remember how unthinkably large $8.2 million seemed to be. I used to joke with people, saying, “$8.2 million dollars is more than I made as a pastor in a year!” But despite that $8.2 million court judgment, we never lost our house and thanks to someone’s kindness, our daughters were able to continue attending our church school. We began a new ministry, Eternal Perspective Ministries (EPM). While paying me a minimum-wage salary and my wife Nanci a secretary’s salary, the ministry received all the royalties from my books. And wouldn’t you know it, suddenly I had books on the bestsellers list and royalties began to dramatically increase. (One of the first books I wrote after having to leave pastoral ministry was ProLife Answers to Prolife Arguments, one of the bestselling prolife books in history, widely used to train young people and other prolife advocates to speak up for unborn children.)

The original court judgment of $8.2 million was in force for ten years. The abortion clinic was frustrated that it hadn’t received very much money—and none at all from us, because minimum wage is not garnishable under Oregon law. They managed to get the judgment extended for another ten years, so I ended up making minimum wage for twenty years.[1] God provided faithfully and most of the time we didn’t even think about it.  With joy in our hearts, now nearly thirty years later Nanci and I continue to give away 100 percent of the book royalties to a wide variety of Christian missions, famine relief, and pro-life work.

Since EPM began, by God’s grace, over eleven million books have sold. And as our staff recently pointed out to me, we have now given away over $8.2 million dollars in royalties—an amount that has now, ironically and delightfully, surpassed the judgment against us and the whole group of prolifers all those years ago!

Last month, as I sometimes do, I asked our staff to decide where to send another $55,000 in royalties (they each designated $5,000 to the ministries of their choice). To give you an idea of the kinds of ministries and projects EPM has supported with the royalty funds, here is where the staff decided to send the money:

$1,000 to Trout Creek Bible Camp for their volunteer and staff cabin fund 
$500 to Wilderness Trails for a camp scholarship fund
$1,000 to Orphans Unlimited
$2,500 to Life Impact Ministries
$1,000 to The Seed Company
$1,000 to SAT 7
$2,250 to Gotta Go
$1,000 to Vital Signs Ministries for prolife outreach
$1,000 to GAiN (Global Aid Network) for famine relief
$2,500 to Open Doors USA for persecuted Christians in Yemen
$2,500 to Operation Mobilization for  Yemen relief
$4,000 to Peace International for building/funding schools and conflict resolution classes for Sudan’s refugees  
$1,000 to Compassion Connect for Adorned in Grace (anti sex trafficking work)  
$2,500 to NOE International
$2,500 to First Image
$2, 500 to Emmaus Japan for Christian church planting in Japan
$2,500 to The Bible Project for videos work on biblical stories
$1,250 to Focus on the Family for Operation Ultrasound
$1,250 to Show Hope
$1,250  to Samaritan’s Purse for Venezuelans in crisis
$3,000 designated to EPM’s  prison ministry (sending books to inmates)
$2,000 to Bible Study Fellowship
$5,000 to Hope Africa International
$1,500 to Choice Adoptions for work with foster care and adoptions
$1,500 to Kerith Springs Lodge
$2,000 to Romans Project for training African pastors how to study the Bible
$5,000 to LUV for emergency medical needs for orphans

For a longer list of some of the organizations EPM supports or recommends,  see here .

See how God continues to use me going to jail and losing my job as a pastor and those lawsuits from child-killing clinics to further His Kingdom? What they intended for evil God really DID intend for good. It brings a big smile to my face.

Some have wondered if I realize what we could have done with over $8 million dollars. My answer is always the same: “Nothing that would have brought us nearly as much joy as we’ve found in giving it away.” I firmly believe they’re not my book royalties—they’re God’s. Nanci and I certainly don’t need them, and it delights us to see God using them to touch lives all over the world!

We thank our sovereign God for bringing us such freedom and joy in a way we never saw coming and never would have chosen, but which—if we had it to do over again—would do nothing to change.

“But who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to give as generously as this? Everything comes from you, and we have given you only what comes from your hand” (1 Chronicles 29:14).

[1] An extension on the judgment finally expired in 2012. A year later our ministry board significantly increased my salary. Since then I’ve been paid a good wage by American standards and a great wage by global standards. We’re grateful for the higher pay, and we’ve enjoyed being able to do things we weren’t able to before. As the wages have increased, our personal giving has increased. Still, God was with us all those years when our salary was lower, and He always faithfully provided.

The Paradoxical Christian Life

Learning about the paradoxes we see in Scripture is, to me, fascinating. Paradoxes are not contradictions, but apparent contradictions that are unresolved in our minds, but resolved in God’s. (I’ve written on paradoxes in my books The Grace and Truth Paradox, hand in Hand: The Beauty of God's Sovereignty and Meaningful Human Choice, and If God Is Good.)

For example, God’s sovereignty and meaningful human choice aren’t contradictory. God has no trouble understanding how they work together. In His infinite mind they coexist in perfect harmony. And while our brains can never fully grasp sovereignty and meaningful choice, by affirming what Scripture says about both, we can avoid the mistake of denying one in order to affirm the other.

The universe, though full of paradoxes, is not full of contradictions. So is the Christian life, as Jen Pollock Michel points out in the following article.

“When we unearth the tension of paradox in the Scriptures,” Jen writes, “we should move toward it with expectation, rather than from it in fear. To be left with tension, complexity, and mystery necessarily moves us toward humility: the still smallness of knowing that he is God and we are not.”

May studying the paradoxes we find in God’s Word and in the Christian life increase both our awe of God and our humility before Him! —Randy Alcorn

Christian Life Is Paradoxical. Embrace It: Worshiping the God of the Both-And

By Jen Pollock Michel

She was angry with me. As any parent might expect, her reasons were both just and unjust. It was the unjust ones, of course, that I rehearsed the next morning, remembering how the house had shook with the gale of tearful, bitter words the night before. Standing at the sink, I reassured myself that self-preoccupation was the stuff of adolescence, that the relational chafing was normal as her high-school graduation loomed. I felt battered all the same.

Worry had woken me early that morning, and I had obeyed it, following it down the stairs to the kitchen. As the kettle heated, I scanned the morning headlines. Luke Perry was dead, and dozens were still missing from the mile-wide tornadoes that had roared through Alabama. Grief, it seemed, was still the confirmed condition of the world. I climbed the stairs to my office, hot coffee in hand, and in the hush of the still-sleeping house, began trying to untangle the previous night’s conversation, which I had not ended but punted to my husband after crawling into bed with a book—a book ironically on the seeming indecency of need. On the pages of my journal, I unwound fears for the future and the besetting guilt of all that I’d gotten wrong these past 18 years. I worried over the fossilization of those mistakes, wondered if the years had hardened them beyond repair. She was turning 18, and time was running out.

The words dripped and sputtered on the page. But they did not console the terrible anguish of being human.

Paradox of Being Human

Like any other human being, I’m a riddle to myself. I want to parent my children well. I will to do right by them. Yet even on my best days, I fail these good intentions by virtue of being human, limited in understanding as well as capacity. I don’t sovereignly know the secret burdens my children bear, nor can I always rise, indefatigable, to carry them. On the worst days (and there are more than I wish to count), I fail my best parental intentions, not simply because I’m human, but because I’m a sinner. When my phone rings, my oldest daughter’s angry, accusing voice on the other end of the line, I won’t answer with sympathy or love. I will hang up.

In his letter to the Romans, the apostle Paul insisted on this paradox of being human, which is to say, in one sense, that we’re both morally frail and also morally aspiring. In Romans 7, he confesses his own tragic doubleness: “For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” In this, we’re a mystery to ourselves: We fail the good that we will, and indulge the evil that we hate. Empirically, I prove Paul’s point every day.

According to G. K. Chesterton, the paradox of being human is that we’re both “chief of creatures” and “chief of sinners.” Made in the image of God, we shared his moral likeness, loving the good and hating the evil in the very beginning. We were the “statue of God walking in the garden,” and our great grief, after the fall, wasn’t that of beast but of “broken God.” Though we were meant to be like God and rule with him, we choose autonomy and rebellion over submission and worship. One bite of forbidden fruit has damned us, self-loving creatures that we are, to paradoxically choose the harm of sin every time. In the garden, God graciously offered life, and we willingly refused it. Body of death, indeed.

On the one hand, human depravity is such terribly bad news—a devastating indictment rendered by Paul, earlier in his letter to the Romans, like this: “None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God.” On the other hand, to acknowledge ourselves to be sinners is a terrific relief—far better news than the optimism of the secularist who gives short shrift to human capacity for breaking things.

One paradox of the gospel is: The bad news is God’s very good news.

Paradox of the Gospel

Paradox, Chesterton argues, is the beating heart of the gospel. In Chesterton’s journey to faith, the paradoxes of Christian thought particularly compelled him. Reading secular atheists and agnostics, he observed that while Christianity was consistently attacked, it was always attacked for inconsistent reasons. Some criticized it for being too optimistic—others for being too pessimistic. Some faulted it for being too bold—others for being too meek. Christianity was to be blamed, although no one could agree why. Was it too ascetic and monkish—or too insistent on pomp and circumstance? As Chesterton continued to reflect, he began to wonder if Christianity wasn’t in fact all these “vices” at once: pessimistic and optimistic, bold and meek, ascetic and worldly.

In other words, was the only fault of Christianity its hospitality to paradox?

Built on the idea that God had donned human flesh and remained God, Chesterton eventually concluded that Christianity isn’t a theology built on tidy eithers and ors. Instead, compared to other religious systems, Christianity is uniquely hospitable to paradox, which is to say the apparatus of both and and. In fact, as Chesterton saw it, paradox is the sharp edge on which much of God’s truth could be found: “Whenever we feel there is something odd in Christian theology, we shall generally find that there is something odd in the truth.”

And it’s odd to affirm, in the same breath, that human beings have reason for “great pride” and “great prostration” (Chesterton again). Nevertheless, to grapple with the paradox of being human is the small step that, with God’s help, can become the giant leap toward salvation. At least this was the conclusion of Blaise Pascal, a 17th-century mathematician, philosopher, and converted Christian, in one of his famous “fragments” of religious reflection, or Pensées, that he left behind before his premature death. “It is wretched to know that one is wretched,” Pascal wrote, “but there is greatness in knowing one is wretched.” The paradoxical condition for salvation isn’t moral merit but moral fault. We can’t offer to God pledges of consistency and purity and fidelity because these are promises we can never keep. Our lot is moral failure every time, even should we try willing it otherwise. We are only helped by admitting our need.

But according to Athanasius in On the Incarnation, it’s not just the depravity of humanity that necessitates his salvation; it’s, paradoxically, his greatness. How could God allow his special creation, endowed with his likeness, to fall into disrepair? And if he did, could he call such apathy love? “It was impossible . . . that God should leave man to be carried off into corruption because it would be unfitting and unworthy of himself.” It was God’s glory, even his glory bequeathed to humanity, that demanded a rescue. As Chesterton wrote, “Let him call himself a fool and a damned fool . . . but he must not say fools are not worth saving.” As God has willed it, humanity has been saved by paradox: that falling short of the glory of God, he should be rescued to, once again, become like him.

The reasons for salvation seem paradoxical; consider also the means. According to the great surprise of God’s story, Jesus Christ didn’t consider equality with God a thing to be grasped but made himself nothing, humbling himself to death on a cross. The firstborn of all creation became last, and humanity’s life was found in God’s own losing. Further, lest we think of Christ’s self-sacrifice only as means to acquittal, we must remember the paradox of grace: the gospel announces both leniency and violence; mercy and judgment; rescue and death. What blazes up on Golgotha is God’s embrace of contradiction: weakness as power, foolishness as wisdom.

It’s a paradox to make men stumble.

Invitations of Paradox

It would seem, at least to me, that God has a kind of preference for paradox—that given the choice between either and or, God would often choose and. Paradox is, of course, the way we can rightly reckon, not just with our nature, but God’s: that he is immanent and transcendent; merciful and just; mysterious and knowable. In the person of Jesus Christ, the great I AM became the great I And, neither moderating his godhood nor his humanity but clothing himself with what seems to be contradiction.

There are certainly more paradoxes to uncover in the story of God than I have room to mention here—including the nature of the kingdom (as a reality both now and not yet); the nature of grace (as “God’s working in us that we might will and work for his good pleasure”); the nature of lament, which, like on the morning I scanned the headlines and sat down to journal, invites us simultaneously into grief and hope. These are the irreducible mysteries that no systematic theology can logically explain, and it’s best that we imitate Moses when confronted with paradox. When he stood before the bush that burned and was not consumed, he did two things: drew closer for a better look, then removed his shoes.

Paradox inevitably offers these two invitations: curiosity and humility.

Recently, I was rereading Rosaria Butterfield’s book The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert. As she describes some of her assumptions about Christians before she became one, she admitted she thought they lacked curiosity. She thought they read the Bible badly, bringing the Bible into conversation only to stop it, rather than deepen it. They seemed to always be offering answers, but like Rosaria noted ironically, “Answers come after questions, not before.”

Sadly, Butterfield’s experience has sometimes been my own—that we short-circuit our curiosity by insisting, too prematurely, on certainty. I’m not one to argue against certainty, for the Scriptures were written and the creeds argued to establish theological and doctrinal certainties. To maintain the importance of paradox isn’t the ambivalent shrug of postmodernity, which dismisses human capacity for objective knowledge. Instead, paradox gives a category for a different kind of certainty: “of truths that do not logically cohere.” Instead of evading truth claims, paradox is a mechanism for affirming that truth, while knowable, can yet remain mysterious, even beyond the reach of reason.

When we unearth the tension of paradox in the Scriptures, we should move toward it with expectation, rather than from it in fear. To be left with tension, complexity, and mystery necessarily moves us toward humility: the still smallness of knowing that he is God and we are not. Such childlikeness seems argument enough on its own, though curiously, it’s also a compelling witness to our secular age, which, despite having rejected the reality of God, yet longs for the transcendent—for something bigger and more enduring and more beautiful than their muddled, material lives. Our most compelling witness may not always be our reasoned arguments and sophisticated apologetics.

It may also be paradox.

The Both-And

On the morning after the explosive argument with my teenage daughter, I came to the end of several journal pages with a clearer understanding of the way to move forward. Unsurprisingly, the conclusions were mostly built on the both and the and. I needed to both persist in a ministry of words and a ministry of silent presence—because God had given me both the command to talk to my children as a means of spiritual formation and the example of his own quiet ministry of kindness to Elijah, who’d arrived dejected and despairing on the other side of his confrontation with the prophets of Baal. As a both-and, it was an answer full of tension and one that cast me back, not on my own understanding, but on God’s. Unlike an either and or, it was an answer that left me with the conviction that ongoing dependence on the Spirit’s wisdom would be needed.

I suppose the sufficiency of the both-and is what Job discovered at the end of his long, angry tirade which God never saw fit to answer. “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Dress for action like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to me. Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” Job never got answers to his questions. He never had definitive reasons from God for why he had permitted his suffering.

And the paradox is:

It was enough.

​Jen Pollock Michel lives in Toronto with her family. She’s the author of Surprised by Paradox: The Promise of ‘And’ in an Either-or World(IVP, 2019), Keeping Place: Reflections on the Meaning of Home (IVP, 2017), and Teach Us to Want: Longing, Ambition and the Life of Faith (IVP, 2014). You can follow her on Twitter.

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

Photo by Tachina Lee on Unsplash

An Update on Mincaye, a Dear Brother and the Former Warrior who Speared to Death Nate Saint and Ed McCully

When I was a brand new Christian in 1969 I heard the story of the five missionary martyrs in Ecuador. It had a powerful effect on my life, one that has never diminished.

Some years ago Steve Saint (Nate Saint’s son) and I became friends. He came to my home church within a week of the 50th anniversary of the death of those missionaries, and I interviewed him and Mincaye, the former warrior who speared to death both Nate Saint and Ed McCully. Steve McCully, Ed’s son, also came to our church that weekend, and after the service we all had lunch together at the home that Jim Elliot grew up in, here in Portland, Oregon. That’s where I met Bert and Colleen Elliot, who I later wrote about.

Mincaye came to Christ, and for many years now he has been a transformed man. He is a delightful brother who is a joy to be with. Of all the people I’ve met and spent time with, one I felt the most privileged to meet was Mincaye.

Steve Saint calls Mincaye “father” and Steve’s children call him “grandfather.” Years after the killings, Mincaye baptized Steve Saint and his sister, and then years later still, he baptized Jamie Saint and his brother. What can account for the reality of grace and forgiveness and transformation, and the closeness of these relationships, but the power of God and the gospel of Christ? There is no other explanation.

Here is an excerpt from that interview, with Mincaye urging us to walk God’s trail:

And if you’re interested, here’s the full video of the interview:

I recently read this update from Joni Eareckson Tada, sharing how earlier this year Mincaye, now about 90 years old (dates of birth were uncertain in his tribe), was fitted for a wheelchair by Wheels for the World, an outreach of Joni and Friends (a wonderful ministry EPM highly recommends). Thinking of time Nanci and I have spent with both Mincaye and Joni stirs my heart!

I’m Joni Eareckson Tada sharing a follow-up to Jim Elliot’s story. 

You know the background well. In the mid-50s, Jim Elliot and four other missionaries, including their pilot, Nate Saint, left for Ecuador to evangelize the Huaorani, an ancient tribe never reached by man. They made contact with the tribe from the airplane using a loudspeaker and a basket to pass down gifts. After several months, the missionaries decided to build a base just a short distance from the village. Encouraged by one or two friendly encounters, they began plans to visit the Huaorani. Then in January 1956, they landed a plane on a small beach in the river near the village. At first, the Huaorani seemed friendly, but raising their spears, they attacked, and Jim Elliot was, that day, the first of the five missionaries to be speared to death, including Nate Saint, the pilot.  

It was a tragic massacre, but the blood spilled by those martyrs provided a seed for the gospel to go forth, because not long after that, Mincaye, one of the Huaorani men who speared to death Nate Saint, he became a Christian. The word of God spread and many years later Mincaye became an elder in the village church. He later said of the change in his tribe, “We acted badly, badly, until they brought us God’s carvings (that’s the Bible). Then, seeing his carvings and following his good trail, now we live happily and in peace.” Years later, Mincaye met the young son of Nate Saint whom he had murdered. Steve Saint and his family had come to live among the Huaorani. 

Because he had killed Steve’s father, Mincaye felt a special responsibility in helping to raise him. A kinship bond was formed and Mincaye adopted Steve as his tribal son. In 1995 when Steve was older and brought his family to live permanently with the tribe, Mincaye considered Steve’s children as his grandchildren. It is an amazing story of God’s healing, grace and mercy – this man, Mincaye, who was rescued from savagery and heathenism is part of Nate Saint’s family, the man he murdered many decades ago. I had the blessing of meeting Steve and Mincaye years later at a big event in Holland organized by Billy Graham. And, over the years, we’ve stayed in touch, Steve and I. 

That is why, not long ago Steve Saint called our ministry at Joni and Friends. He let us know that Mincaye is now 90 years old with very weak legs, unable to walk and he needs a wheelchair. Steve asked: “Can you help us find a wheelchair that would be suitable for rugged terrain in Ecuador?” Well, I tell you what, our ‘Wheels for the World’ team was happy to provide just the right wheelchair for Steve to take with them to Ecuador for Mincaye. We normally don’t provide individual wheelchairs to people overseas, but this was an extraordinary case. And I’m so proud of our ‘Wheels for the World’ team because they bent over backward and worked so hard to provide just the right wheelchair. 

If you’d like to see a photo of Mincaye in his brand new chair, I’ve posted it on our radio page today at joniradio.org. I am also posting a photo of the wonderful Wheels for the World team, our friends and our staff who put this wheelchair together. If the story of Steve Saint or Jim Elliot has inspired you over the years, then you know all about this remarkable man, Mincaye. Please pray for him as it is not easy to be 90 years old and live with pain, especially in a jungle. Pray that his spirits remain bright, and that the wheelchair will be a testimony of God’s grace and provision and that the church in that area will continue to grow. Pray for him and his congregation in Ecuador.

Spiritual Warfare, and Times I’ve Sensed the Presence of Demons and Righteous Angels

The warfare against demonic powers depicted in Scripture is very real. But though unrighteous angels can fight God, they cannot overpower Him:

And there was war in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him. (Revelation 12:7–9)

We should never believe that the conflict between good and evil is only figurative, not real. This passage vividly shows its reality—Michael and his angels fight in a great battle, with much at stake.

However, we should never believe that anyone can thwart God’s ultimate plan. The rebellion is real, the warfare is real—but Satan “was not strong enough” to stay in Heaven. God accomplished His will by casting out the devil.

We, too, war against these evil beings: “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12). We don’t want to overestimate the power of demons in our lives, but neither do we want to underestimate it. We should take up our armor yet not fear the future, for the outcome is certain: “The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work” (1 John 3:8).

Years ago I was asked, “Have you ever been personally aware of being in the presence of demons? Have you ever been aware of a guardian angel doing something on your behalf?”

Regarding demons, two instances in particular stick out. One was years ago when our girls were young and we were in Egypt, staying with a missionary family, our dear friends Pat and Rakel Thurman. After we’d been there perhaps six days, when there was no more jet lag and we’d been sleeping fine, one night Nanci and I were troubled and fitful and unable to sleep all night. It was a heavy presence of evil that was palpable. We prayed quietly, for protection of our daughters and ourselves, and got almost no sleep.

In the morning Pat and Rakel said, “You didn’t sleep last night, did you?” We were surprised, since we hadn’t been making noise. How did they know?

They said, “We couldn’t sleep either. There are nights here where the demonic presence is so great no Christian can sleep.”

Another time, Nanci and I were in Hawaii. We had an interview scheduled at what we thought was a Christian radio station. But the moment we walked in the front door, it took our breath away. There was a dark oppressive spirit in the place, one like I have felt only a few times in my life. It turned out to be a New Age station with pictures on the wall of various eastern mystics and religious leaders. We understood why we had felt what we had when we walked in. They wanted to talk about my book—they must have misunderstood what it was about—but all I talked about was Jesus being the Son of God, and how He is the way, the truth and the life, and no one comes to the Father but by Him. (That’s the benefit of a live interview—if it had been prerecorded they would have just tossed the tape!)

Another place I’ve felt that throat clenching darkness is at abortion clinics. Once I opened a dumpster at an abortion clinic and saw blood and flesh. I was overwhelmed with a horror that wasn’t like something made to look bad in a movie, but was real and undiluted evil, from the very pit of Hell. Satan, the murderer, and the one who lies to cover his murders, loves to kill children. As I looked at destroyed human flesh in that dumpster, I could feel his hatred. The devil is the ultimate serial killer. 

On a less dramatic level—but real nonetheless—a hopeless sense of dread and foreboding has fallen on me at times, especially when I’m in the midst of a challenging writing project. When that happens, I call upon the blood of Christ to cover and protect me. I used to do this silently, but now I speak aloud. God hears me either way, but I want the demons to hear too, and the righteous warriors. Jesus responded aloud to Satan during the temptation. He quoted Scripture so the devil could hear it, perhaps also for the benefit of the holy angels. When we resist the devil, it may not always be appropriate to speak aloud (or to speak loudly anyway, e.g. at a restaurant or in church or at work), but as a rule I think it has merit. By verbalizing we give shape and expression to the weapons of spiritual warfare. A. W. Tozer entitled one of his editorials (and it became the title of one of his books), “I talk back to the devil.”

As for righteous angels, I’ll never forget driving too fast as a teenager, looking down at something that distracted me, and then looking up to see all yellow in front of me. I swerved to the right, bumped along in a field, cut back onto the road and saw in my rear view mirror the school bus that had come to a complete stop in front of me. I knew immediately the situation was impossible—I simply could not have been that close to the back of a school bus, where all I saw was yellow, going at that speed and not crashed into it. Yet I didn’t. God graciously delivered me, and I suspect someday I’ll find an angel or two were involved in the rescue.

My family stayed with the Shel Arensen family in Kenya back in 1989. Shel grew up attending Rift Valley Academy in Kijabe, Kenya. During our visit, Shel told me a story I’ve heard since, about something that happened there in the 1950’s. Herbert Lockyer wrote of it in his book on angels, and I think it’s in Billy Graham’s book on angels too. Shel’s family was living there at the time, and he pointed out to us where the events of that night unfolded.

That particular night during the “Mau Mau rebellion,” the ruthless warriors of the Mau Mau tribe gathered to climb the hill up to the missionary school (RVA) to capture and kill the missionary children and teachers, and fulfill their vows by eating the brains of white men, who they considered their oppressors.

Word got out about this plan, but it was too late to evacuate the school or to get outside protection. Desperate phone calls were made and people around the world were called upon to pray for God’s intervention. The night went on, with teachers and children huddled at RVA, praying and fully expecting to be attacked, and likely killed, any moment.

But nothing happened. The warriors never made it to the school, and no one was harmed.

No one knew the rest of the story until sometime later, when a Mau Mau warrior was in jail, and on trial. At his trial, the leader of Mau Maus, who led that attack, was asked, “On this particular night did you intend to kill the inhabitants [of the missionary school]?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Why didn’t you?”

His answer? “We were on our way to attack and kill them, but as we came closer, suddenly between us and the school there were many men dressed in white, holding flaming swords.” He said he and his warriors were all terrified, and fled down the hill, never to return.

Sure, sometimes God chooses not to answer our desperate prayers exactly as we wish. And yes, sometimes God’s children are hurt and even killed. But how many times has He answered when we haven’t realized He’s moved Heaven and earth—and maybe a company of righteous angels—to do it? Had the human warriors not told what they saw, no one would have known what really happened that night. How many amazing stories will we not hear until we are with Jesus? I have no doubt that the answer is “the vast majority of them!”

For more on spiritual warfare and the Christian life, see Randy’s novels Lord Foulgrin’s Letters and The Ishbane Conspiracy

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

How Being an Insulin-Dependent Diabetic Has Affected My Walk with the Lord

In my twenties, I was very independent. My health had always been good. I did not grow up in a Christian home, and my father, who owned a number of taverns and was the most independent human being most would ever know, was extremely healthy and strong. Even though I came to Christ when I was in high school, in pastoral ministry I discovered—and the people who worked with me, I’m sure, discovered—that I too was very self-reliant.

Now, I was a Jesus-loving Christian who was seeking to draw upon God’s empowerment in what I did. But pretty much I got out of bed, worked long hours, did what I did, and didn’t really need to rely on anyone that much. Christ’s words, “Apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5), rang true to me—but the fact is, and I am not proud of it, in retrospect I believe I did a lot of things relying on His common grace strength, without drawing on His supernatural strength in Christ. So from eternity’s viewpoint, those things amounted to nothing.

When I became an insulin-dependent diabetic in 1985, at age 31, suddenly I had to take blood tests throughout the day. I had to take insulin over and over again. Sometimes I have low blood sugar where my body isn’t working right and my mind isn’t working right. So the strong body and strong mind that I had, now, periodically, isn’t so strong. A few times a month, at least, I experience what I think of as what Alzheimer’s patients experience. The only difference is I can drink some orange juice and in fifteen or twenty minutes I’m fine. I can vividly remember what it’s like to be thinking in a thick fog, and not accurately perceive what’s happening around me.

“To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations,” Paul wrote, “there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:7–10).

As a teenager who had just come to faith in Christ, I read this passage with perplexed interest. I believed it because it was God’s Word—but it made little sense to me. Now, fifty years later, it makes a great deal of sense. I can honestly say I’m grateful for the diabetes; yes, I even delight in it, because I recognize the value of being humbled, for “when I am weak, then I am strong.” My weakness drives me to greater dependence upon Christ. I wouldn’t begin to trade the spiritual benefits I’ve received. Learning to be more dependent on Him has been worth every moment of discomfort and inconvenience brought on by my diabetes.

And there’s more: since acquiring diabetes, I take better care of my health, exercise more diligently, eat better, relax more, keep a saner schedule, have more time with my family, possess a better understanding of others, am closer to God, and generally just enjoy life more (not bad, huh?). I know many others who likewise wouldn’t exchange for anything what they’ve learned through their diseases and disabilities. 

Whether or not we understand it in this life, it is absolutely true: “in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). While it is always true, the beauty is when we don’t wait until we die to believe it.

For more on God's purposes in our trials, see Randy's books If God Is Good and The Goodness of God.

Photo by Klemen Vrankar on Unsplash