Truth is a big topic, both in our modern culture and in Christianity. To be honest, it could cover several posts (and likely will over time), particularly as we examine the odd juxtaposition of current white evangelical Christian culture essentially abandoning any desire for truth in an effort to faithfully support Donald Trump.
That last sentence probably lost a good chunk of potential readers, but that actually proves my point as you’ll see if you keep reading.
I was raised in the white evangelical Christian culture, and one of the key tenets that came with that was a devotion to absolute, unchanging truth in the face of a culture that was all about relativism (white evangelical Christian culture devotes almost endless effort to creating these misleading dichotomies that set us up as victims in a massive “us versus them” battle against pretty much everyone else). As culture shifted to question truth and reality, I was taught that Christians believed in the absolute truth of God. That doesn’t change. There is no moral relativity; good and bad are foundational. As is truth.
My wife and I returned a few days ago from a trip to the
east coast to visit friends and family and see some fascinating historic sites.
Among those fascinating sites was a visit to Thomas Jefferson’s estate
I was curious to see how Jefferson would be memorialized at
his famous plantation home. Growing up in a right-wing conservative home, we
were proud Christians and (possibly even prouder) Americans.
While no one would admit it (since to do so would be essentially
confessing idolatry), we placed the Founding Fathers (must be capitalized) on
pedestals along the apostles (who also do not belong on pedestals, but that’s a
tangent for another day). We pointed to their references to God and the
Almighty in their writings and their regular church attendance records (or, if
they didn’t have regular church attendance records, we kind of ignored that)
and that lofty language to praise their great Christian virtue.
These men weren’t human; they were something more (like, as
I said before, the “heroes of the Bible”). That’s why they had monuments in
their honor in our nation’s capital.
The problem with such glorification is it whitewashes flaws
and installs blinders. When researchers began pursuing strings of evidence that
Jefferson had several illegitimate children with one of his slaves, we cried
foul and claimed that was liberal propaganda trying to undermine a great
Christian man. I distinctly remember a specific example of this conversation. (As
another side note: it’s curious that any time we were confronted with an
inconvenient possible truth that didn’t align with our preconceived notions, it
had to be a vicious liberal plot to undermine Christianity and our
country. That’s another tangent for another day.)
“So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and Prophets.” – Matthew 7:12
I’ve written before about how the far-right
cries for “religious liberty” actually mask efforts to limit the religious
liberty of non-Christians. In that post, I mentioned a few examples
Christians use to claim persecution and a need for freedom to choose to honor
their religion by withholding service from others. I went on to suggest we
should create alternative scenarios that switch roles and question how we would
want to be treated in that situation.
Jesus spoke the words above – known as the Golden Rule – in the
midst of a lengthy message that, quite frankly, undermines quite a bit of what
white Evangelical Christianity in America stands for. But these words from
Matthew 7:12 should sum up our entire attitude toward others, particularly
outside the church. Unfortunately, non-Christian culture in America far better
embodies this command than white Evangelical culture.
The entire heart of this command is self-reflection. In
order to do to others what we would have them do to us, we have to really
contemplate what we would like to have them do to us. Then we have to consider
how that would look for us to do the same to them, and finally we carry it out.
That’s all very wordy, and partially why the “Golden Rule” is often expressed
as “treat others how you would like to be treated.”
Every single person was made in God’s image.
The idea of “Imago Dei” is one of the core tenets of Christianity
and is rooted in the creation narrative in Genesis 1. It’s something Christians
cling to as assigning personal value and identity in tough times, something
meant to both encourage and challenge us.
This is not controversial to Christians. However, I think we gloss over it way too easily. I think we discuss this premise of faith in the context of “all humankind was made in God’s image.” We look at it from a collective lens rather than from a personal lens. I think that needs to change. Because there is a subtle but significant difference between “all people were made in God’s image” and “each individual person was made in God’s image.”
There’s a reason admitting you have a problem is the first
step in Alcoholics Anonymous. Unless you recognize your own faults and issues,
you cannot hope to get better.
That’s really hard. It’s not human nature. Unfortunately, it’s
true, though, so it’s something we have to come to accept if we want anything
We’re really good at convincing ourselves that other people
have problems. We’re really good at pointing them out and judging them. We’re
also really good at deflecting blame as soon as the focus shifts to us.
I’ve written before about our issue of caring more about our
image that others see than the substance of what we do. This is similar, as
it also focuses on creating the best appearance for ourselves, but this side
focuses more on bringing down others than falsifying our own façade.
I’m seeing this a lot right now with climate change. Sixteen-year-old
climate activist Greta Thunberg delivered a passionate
speech to the United Nations yesterday, calling out the older generation
that occupies the leadership positions in the UN for its callous lack of action
on an issue that quite literally could lead to the end of humanity with
I wrote about climate
change a couple months ago and the issue with Christians disregarding the
health of the earth. Today my focus is on Thunberg and the response she’s
The 1987 classic film The
Princess Bride features countless memorable quotes. One of my favorites
comes when Vizzini repeatedly uses the word “inconceivable” to describe things
happening around him. Finally, Inigo turns to him and says simply: “You keep
using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
That line pops into my head every time I hear republicans and/or
President Donald Trump speak about “religious liberty.”
That phrase is supposedly the biggest concern prompting the
republican party to abandon virtually all of its professed priorities in favor
of Trump. And that transition has been powered by, rather than opposed by,
white evangelical Christians.
I’ve heard a lot of evangelical leaders in America compare
Donald Trump to the Persian King Cyrus from Isaiah 45 who, as a non-Jewish
ruler, played a key role in allowing the exiled Jews to return to Israel and
rebuild the temple.
The argument has been termed “vessel theology,” suggesting
that God ordained Trump as a non-Christian to carry out God’s will in America
as God’s “vessel” despite his character or religious shortcomings. This
approach has many flaws, including the fact that America
is not God’s chosen people (a sort of new Israel as adherents to this
approach like to think) and King Cyrus was not the king over Israel (so the
analogy would really require Trump to be a leader of a foreign nation who
brought about good for America).
Contrary to the focus on Cyrus, I think if we desperately want to compare Trump with biblical leaders, I think he more closely aligns with a different non-Jewish king: Nebuchadnezzar. King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon is heavily featured in the book of Daniel, and he was one of the key subjects in the talk at church this past Sunday.