Category: Culture

New life in the zombie apocalypse, part 3: Abandoning self-sufficiency

Published by Daniel on November 10, 2014

Note: I love zombie apocalypse stories because they are a great metaphor for life crises. This blog series on the topic has four parts: 1) waking up in the crisis; 2) defining “alive”; 3) abandoning self-sufficiency; and 4) spiritual weapons and sustenance. All scriptures are NIV unless otherwise noted.

The Walking Dead, a zombie show based on a serialized graphic novel, is one of the most-watched shows on TV, while other zombie books and movies continue to sell like hotcakes.

Why is the zombie genre so popular?

I think one reason is the compelling question at the heart of it: In a zombie apocalypse, what would I do? Or more specifically, excluding the suicide option, what would I do to survive?

This question faces all fictional people in zombie stories, and stirs such passionate interest in actual people that a real-life industry has grown up around it. Amazon.com sells a survival manual, and other websites offer real-life training camps on the topic. In 2011, even the History Channel aired a special (Zombies: A Living History) about outlasting a zombie takeover. The History Channel!

The question of survival can be broken down into more specific questions, such as: Where would I go? With whom would I associate? What about weapons for self-defense? And what about sustenance (food and water)?

Each of these questions has spiritual applications. Let’s tackle them one at a time.

First, where would I go?

Would I go to a city or to the country, and would I settle into a secure, well-equipped home base or stay on the move?

A city contains more scavengeable resources for greater self-sufficiency (or the illusion of it), but it also has more zombies. To get around the zombies to the resources, I’d need massive courage and ninja-like stealth – attributes rarely possessed by a guy of my size and agility. Also, in the city, there’s more danger of getting trapped in tight spaces (narrow streets, tall buildings) with no escape, whereas in the country there are fewer zombies and more escape routes. As for establishing a well-equipped home base, doing so could attract other survivors who’d kill for it; better to stay mobile.

Zombie wisdom says: Don’t follow the crowd to the cities, and don’t settle in one place. It’s safer to keep moving through open country and live off the land, even though resources might be scarce. At least, according to my sources.

In the Old Testament, the dichotomy was the same. As people built cities, they began to “follow the crowd” and develop wealth, resources, and delusions of self-sufficiency, all of which laid the foundation for many evils. Think of the people of Babel building a tower, seeking to become almost godlike: “Come, let us build ourselves a city, a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves” (Genesis 11:4). Or think of the Hebrews establishing cities in the Promised Land, then rejecting God as their leader and demanding a human king like “all the other nations” (1 Samuel 8:5).

In actuality, a city in itself is not evil. But symbolically, it is a monument to human strength. Living in a “city” (metaphorically), we can forget our dependence on God and find ourselves trapped in dangerous places, like in the delusion that we are self-sufficient.

Perhaps this is why, before the Hebrews became a nation, God led them away from the cities and toward complete dependence on him in the wilderness, where they had to trust him to provide manna every day (Exodus 16).

Personally, in the real world, I prefer books and computers to rugged outdoor life. But metaphorically, I believe that living in daily dependence on God’s provision – to me, represented in zombie literature by living off the land in remote places – is the way to go.

Second, with whom would I associate?

Would I remain a lone individualist, join a small group, or become part of a large group?

On one hand, a loner requires fewer supplies and can escape more quickly and easily—again, creating an illusion of self-sufficiency—but she has no one to watch her back or cover her blind spots. On the other hand, a large group poses logistical problems and offers little sense of true closeness. The third choice, a smallish, close-knit group, offers real interconnectedness and the best chance of survival.

Zombie wisdom says: Go with a small group. Small groups are stronger and safer than large groups or loners.

Jesus supported this model by forming a small group of disciples who knew each other intimately. He prayed that they, and we, would experience true unity (John 17), which is essential for spiritual strength.

I’m an introvert and I’m also from Montana, where personal freedom is a core value, so I tend to favor being “on my own.” When my world imploded in 2008, I just wanted to withdraw and be by myself. Thankfully, though, my church stressed the scripturally-based point that everyone, even an introvert like me, should join a home community for close relationships. So I found the nearest one and started attending. And this ragtag band of Christians surrounded me and lifted me up. They bound my spiritual wounds and defended me from further attacks of the enemy. They cared for me through prayer, encouragement, and many other forms of support. Had I stayed alone, I might still be living, but I probably would be more dead than alive. In the zombie apocalypse and in real life, living in a small, caring community is best.

So depending on human self-sufficiency, whether in a “city” or on one’s own, is not the best way to survive the zombie apocalypse. Instead, it’s better to depend on the strength of God and a few believers who know you very well.

In my next blog, I’ll wrap up the last two questions: What about weapons for self-defense? And what about sustenance (food and water)?

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New life in the zombie apocalypse, part 2: Defining “alive”

Published by Daniel on October 17, 2014

As we continue our spiritual journey through the zombie apocalypse, let’s consider the zombies themselves. To me, the most intriguing aspect of zombies is the nature of their existence (I know, zombies don’t really exist – but it’s a metaphor, so hear me out).

Zombies, in contrast to human survivors, are often described as the “living dead” – subhuman beings who seem to be alive, yet not alive. How can they exist in two incompatible states at once? Yet in a zombie story, they do. The story pulls us “outside the box” and hands us a paradox. It twists what we know. It forces us to consider the definition of life: What is life? What is living? And what does it mean to be truly alive?

The definition of life is, of course, endlessly debated. However, if we stay “inside the box,” we might define life by simple measures – such as, say, the presence of brain waves and a heartbeat.

But there are huge gray areas. For example, both zombies and humans may exhibit brain waves and heartbeats, yet without being fully alive.

In the opening credits of Shaun of the Dead, a zombie comedy (a paradox in and of itself), the camera pans across several routine scenarios – commuters waiting for a bus, cashiers scanning groceries, hoodlums shuffling down the street – all on autopilot, without thought or awareness.

All of these people are technically alive, engaged in what some might call the drudgery of everyday existence. Yet they look no more alive than the zombies who appear later in the film. They intentionally beg the question: is there really any difference between the living dead and the living dead? What is the difference between a live person working mindlessly for some-thing to eat, and a dead person searching brainlessly for some-one to eat?

A spirit.

This was illustrated in the first season finale of AMC’s The Walking Dead. At the Center for Disease Control (CDC), the last remaining scientist shows visitors a brain scan of his last test subject as she dies and slowly turns into a zombie. He explains that all parts of the brain that “make you you” become black on the screen, indicating death. However, after a few minutes a tiny part of the brain that controls basic motor functions begins to show renewed activity. Conclusion: the spirit—the personality, the humanity—has left the body. The only part “living” is the body, the shell. And its only goal is to find sustenance. For some inexplicable reason, that sustenance consists solely of the living.

This is a profound concept, indeed, when we consider God breathing his spirit—life—into the first human. It tells us we humans are unique, special, created in God’s image. Without that God-breath, there is no true life.

However, as shown in Shaun of the Dead, even the living can be fully alive or only partially alive. After getting off the plane from my disastrous postgraduate oral defense, I was technically “alive”—I had a pulse and a few readable brain waves; my basic motor functions worked, though with more effort than before; and Jesus was still living inside me.

Yet like a zombie I shuffled through the next few years, numb and dead, attacking innocent people to feed my inner monster of rage and self-pity. My existence consisted of moments of anger, followed by bouts of weeping. Finally, my days devolved into standing at the edge of the abyss, staring into the blackness before me. I was certain the previous seven years were the climax of my life, and I was now just waiting to rot.

But one question haunted me—a typical job interview question: “What do you see yourself doing five years from now?” How does a zombie answer that question? I really needed a job, but my self-confidence was flushed down a British loo. The real answer—the answer I couldn’t say—was: “I don’t know. I am just trying to survive to the end of the day.”

I had a spirit, but I wasn’t living.

So I will take the definition of life one step further. Life is more than brainwaves, a heartbeat, and a spirit. It also requires vision, passion, and hope.

That’s what I lacked: hope. A voice to guide me, to snap me out of my trance of hopelessness and pull me away from the edge of the abyss. Sadly, we often can’t do this for ourselves. Maybe you too have been killed by hopelessness and rejection. Maybe you too have settled for “good enough”—which is often not that great.

So how does a zombie come back to life? I can’t answer that for everyone, but I can relate a few things that have been helpful for me personally. Here is what I suggest.

First, find within yourself a seed of self-awareness to acknowledge, to yourself and God, exactly where you are. Denying our zombie state will only entrench it, so we must first admit it. Remember, God is not bothered or intimidated by this admission.

Second, take one tiny step of repentance away from the abyss and toward Christ, who is true life. One step, however slight, is enough to shift our focus off our own anger and self-pity and onto Christ.

Third, commit to an intimate community of Christ-followers who will pray for you, support you, and allow you to heal in God’s time.

Fourth, don’t waste time asking, “Why?” In a zombie apocalypse, that question almost never gets answered. Ask instead, “What now?” In other words, whatever happened is now in the past. It can’t be undone and the “why” question only amplifies the hopelessness. You are in a new reality. It’s uncharted and scary. But God is there also. To paraphrase Henry Blackaby: Find out where God is working (and believe me, in this zombie apocalypse, there are oodles of places where he is at work), and go join him.

In the zombie apocalypse, the zombies are not ill; they are truly dead and cannot be revived. However, God is a God of resurrection. I am proof that God can resurrect zombies and breathe new life into them.

In Christ, death is never final.

Not even in the zombie apocalypse.

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New life in the zombie apocalypse, part 1: Waking up in the crisis

Published by Daniel on October 5, 2014

In the 2010 pilot episode of AMC TV’s “The Walking Dead,” Rick (the protagonist) awakens from a coma to find his city deserted except for a horrific new reality: flesh-eating zombies. He dodges them for awhile, trying unsuccessfully to find his wife and son, but the need for safety finally drives him to seek refuge in an abandoned military tank.

In the episode’s final shot, the camera points directly down from above to show several zombies climbing around on the tank, looking for a way in. Then the camera slowly pulls back, widening the scene to reveal hundreds more zombies shuffling toward the tank from all directions.

And then the scene fades to black.

zombies-converge-on-tank — From AMC’s “The Walking Dead” – pilot episode

It is one of rare shots in film that conveys total terror and hopelessness.

That closing shot, that whole episode, resonated with me on a deeply emotional level. It all served as the perfect metaphor for how I had been feeling for over two years—alive but trapped, temporarily surviving but with absolutely no way forward.

In 2008, my world collapsed in utter failure. When I got off the plane after a day’s travel from London, still numb from having my doctoral dissertation rejected just days before, I realized I was facing a whole new reality—one where nothing made sense, every moment was uncertain, and every dream I had tried to form was gone, with a finality for which there was no cure.

I had stepped into my own personal zombie apocalypse.

For months after I returned home, I barely shuffled through the days. I don’t know if I was a zombie or a survivor, but in a zombie apocalypse, both could be called “the walking dead” (the zombies actually are dead, and the survivors’ future is so bleak that they might as well be). So every day I had to choose whether to be a zombie, feeding on baser animal instincts like rage and self-centeredness, or a survivor, determined to cling to higher spiritual values like faith and love.

I had been living in this strange existence for over two years before that “Walking Dead” premiere. And that hopeless, terrifying final scene captured every single feeling I experienced at the time.

Zombie stories are my guilty pleasure. I can relate to the desperate plight of the survivors, and the fascinating “what if” questions—questions such as…

– If I were trapped in a zombie apocalypse, what would I do?

– Could I survive? Do I have what it takes?

– Would I choose to “opt out,” as some characters do, by committing suicide?

– What would I look like with a zombie face—would it hurt or help?

It’s not the inevitable gore that draws me to the zombie genre—that would just be weird. Instead, it’s the scenario itself that intrigues me.

Zombie stories almost always start with the protagonist (typically a male, though it could be a female) inexplicably waking up in a zombie apocalypse and slowly realizing that something is not right. Numb and disoriented, he staggers through the landscape, passing through new stages of awareness and struggling to interpret what he sees and hears in this dangerous new world. Suspense builds due to fear of discovery—discovery of new horrors. As the mental fog begins to clear, panic rises at these new realities, then desperation as he remembers his family and determines to look for them. Finally, sorrow sets in as he realizes the finality of it all: his old familiar world is gone, and only this horrific new one remains.

The zombie genre rarely, if ever, explains what caused the apocalypse, or what might happen next. There is no big picture, no answer to “how?” or “why?” Instead, there is only an individual or a small group of survivors just trying to get by. The only question is, “What now?” The protagonist must simply accept the new reality, and learn to survive and remain human within it.

Kind of like life.

The truth is, you will probably never, ever have to answer the questions that confront the protagonist in a zombie story. But we each have to face our own apocalypse. The catalyst could be anything, from a divorce to a serious illness to an unexpected death. Whatever the cause, we awaken in a new reality. We are numb, foggy, angry, desperate, and saddened as we try to put the pieces together. We are forced to get past the “why” question and start to answer “what now?” as we trudge through the new chaos.

However, the zombie apocalypse—whether real or metaphorical—is never completely without hope.

The next episode of “The Walking Dead” opens with Rick still in the tank—but something unexpected happens: a voice suddenly crackles over the radio. Someone is watching the whole scenario from a higher, safer vantage point, offering to guide Rick out of his desperate situation. Immediately, he decides to trust that voice.

Like Rick, we too have a voice that speaks into our situation. It’s the voice of the Holy Spirit—unexpected, higher than we are, and able to see the whole picture. If we are to survive our own apocalypse, we must learn to know and trust that voice without hesitation.

Somehow, I have survived my apocalypse for nearly seven years. My survival skills are far from perfect. But that voice—the wise, loving voice of the Holy Spirit—has helped me limp along.

So get up, clear the cobwebs from your brain, and allow the voice to guide you too.

Welcome to the zombie apocalypse!

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Ice bucket justice

Published by Daniel on September 4, 2014

August 2014 was a rough month.

Israel and Hamas exchanged missiles. The ebola death toll in Africa cracked four digits. ISIS slaughtered Iraqi Christians and started beheading journalists. Russia invaded Ukraine and claimed the video footage of their advancing tank columns came from a video game. A St. Louis suburb exploded in race riots, with some elected leaders promising more if the system doesn’t go their way.

And Americans responded by dumping ice water on their heads. 14848289439_dfbc1f961f_z

It was difficult not to feel paralyzed by all of the insanity. Instead of dousing my head with ice water, I wanted to bury it in the sand like an ostrich. I was worried about all that was going on, and frustrated by my own smallness. What could I possibly do to affect even one of those headlines?

Should I tweet something—the twenty-first century equivalent of passing out flyers? Post a shocking photo on Facebook and express my sadness? Join a street march? Or perhaps send money?

But send money to whom? We don’t always know.

I understand that people of faith must respond to these crises, must work toward social justice. However, on some of these issues, I am not exactly sure which parties to support, or how. I believe our response should be based on the truth, but sometimes the truth isn’t easy to ascertain. So what can I do to bring good to those around me?

This brings my back to the ALS ice bucket challenge. At first, I dismissed it as pointless and superficial. I mean, what’s the point of over two million people braving a bucket of ice? And what are the odds that ALS will be forgotten again by Halloween?

But then, like a photographer adjusting a camera lens, God adjusted my focus. I saw that in a world of seemingly unsolvable problems, these chilled folks at least did something. What they did was small, but heartfelt. They didn’t do it to assuage their guilt, or to show their moral superiority. They simply turned on video cameras and poured ice water on their heads. That was it.

But together, their individual acts raised over a hundred million dollars (http://time.com/topic/als-ice-bucket-challenge-2/).

I felt as if God was saying to me, “I’m in control. I’ll worry about the big stuff. Just do what you can for those around you.”

This is how I as a Christian can advance God’s kingdom on earth: not by measuring other Christians to see if they are doing “enough” by my yardstick, but by doing something myself.

In the middle of all the craziness last month, I was impressed by something that happened in Ferguson, Missouri. As tensions flared white-hot, the police asked local pastors and church leaders to step in and help calm the situation. I have no idea what any of those pastors felt about the events leading up to the riots—perhaps some were just as angry as the protesters. However, each chose to imitate Jesus and bring peace. I deeply respect their simple acts of love that were underreported by a media hungry for explosive violence.

We will never be able to stop every crisis or heal every disease. And if we try, we will quickly feel overwhelmed and burned out – as I did in August. But we can each reflect Jesus to our own little corner, whether by bringing peace into chaos or by dumping ice water on our heads.

We can still accomplish great good—one ice bucket at a time.

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Ahh…political! Relief from earthly politics

Published by Daniel on June 19, 2014

As my blog evolves, I often reflect on experiences in my life and how they relate to my overall life message.

One area I have consciously worked to avoid is politics. It’s not that I don’t have political opinions; I do. And sometimes I can get passionate about an issue. Sometimes I want to tear my hair out when I don’t agree with local or national politics in our country.

But politics can deeply divide people into pro vs. con, us vs. them, progressive vs. conservative, or—in Christian-speak—God’s prophet vs. Satan incarnate. I’m sad to think public discourse can be so polarizing, but unfortunately, divisiveness is a part of our fallen nature.

There was a time when I truly believed that the implementation of God’s kingdom on earth depended upon the victory of a particular party. Honest. If “my” candidate won, all was well in the world. If he or she lost…well, pass the Prozac. So, as a follower of Christ who sincerely desired God’s will for my nation, state, and town, my “kingdom work” revolved around leaving literature in screen doors and encouraging people to vote – which, especially if I believed in a particular cause or candidate, I did with conviction. (And I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that.)

But it never happened – the implementation of God’s will through political means, that is. Politics is too wobbly. Whenever a particular party actually got in and held the majority in government, it seemed to result in either a scandal or the collective governmental IQ falling to the level of bean dip – mainly because whenever one party has a strong majority, especially for a long time, the opposition becomes too weak to check them, challenge them, or counterbalance them.

My kingdom view began to change as well. As I sought Jesus’ direct support for my cause, I quickly realized the difficulty of that task. I found that Jesus was apolitical, and no political philosophy can lay sole claim to his teachings. Despite popular implications that he was liberal, conservative, or anything else, he refused to be categorized as anything other than God. His enemies constantly set him up and baited him, but each time they thought they had him pegged, he skillfully twisted out of their grasp. And despite being wrongly accused and executed as a revolutionary king (so in a way, you could say politics killed him), he steadfastly resisted citizenship in any earthly political system, demonstrating again and again that his citizenship was in the kingdom of God.

And so is ours. I wonder how the world might change if we, as Christians, focused our time, money, and energy less on politics, and more on prayerfully living out the kingdom of God on earth. While I do recognize that some Christians are called to serve as elected officials, committee members, lobbyists, or other participants in the political process, I don’t believe our primary allegiance should ever be to any earthly political party. Instead, it should be to the Lord.

The idea of being apolitical is somewhat new to me. I graduated from a conservative Christian college in the 1980s. At that time, Christian conservatives were a powerful and sought-after voting bloc. They identified Christianity with conservative party politics and believed Jesus would have agreed. They pursued family values as their primary cause and worked to get conservative politicians appointed or elected to office, including Ronald Reagan twice, in order to pass and enforce laws supporting this vision. They believed God’s will could be actualized through political avenues. So they sought to gain political influence. And they got it. Conservatives came into power, and conservative Christians were appointed to presidential commissions, invited to serve as spiritual advisors to those in power, and consulted on national policies. If a scandal involving conservatives broke out, the conservative Christian voting bloc tended to overlook such indiscretions in order to keep its people in power.

jesus_donkey300 Fast-forward thirty years, and Christian progressives began making the same mistakes as Christian conservatives did in the 1980s. Christian progressives became a powerful and sought-after voting bloc. They identified Christianity with progressive party politics and believed Jesus would have agreed. They pursued social justice as their primary cause and worked to get progressive politicians appointed or elected to office, including Barak Obama twice, in order to pass and enforce laws supporting this vision. They believed God’s will can be actualized through political avenues. So they sought to gain political influence. And like the conservatives before them, they got it. Progressives came into power, and progressive Christians have been appointed to presidential commissions, invited to serve as spiritual advisors to those in power, and consulted on national policies. If a scandal involving progressives breaks out, the progressive Christian voting bloc has tended to overlook such indiscretions in order to keep its people in power.

Each side can make a case for a biblical basis.

But neither side is completely correct. Neither side fully represents God’s perspective. And even in their political successes, neither side is capable of accomplishing God’s will on earth. Only God can do that.

The church is called to a higher vision than current political systems. We are called to be a countercultural example of the kingdom of God (not preach it, but be it). We are called to oppose sin as conservatives remind us, and work for peace and justice as progressives remind us. Note that I said the church should do these things, not elect politicians and pass laws to do them for us. The money we invest in political causes would be better invested in kingdom work. Instead of working through political systems on the left or right, what if we reached out to people directly with the power of the gospel? Some Christians have already caught this vision and are doing great work, not for any earthly political party or kingdom but for the kingdom of God.

In seeking to become apolitical (that is, less political and more kingdom-minded), I have found a greater sense of freedom – and relief. According to Proverbs 21:1, “The king’s heart is like a stream of water directed by the LORD; he guides it wherever he pleases” (NLT). So, no matter who gets elected or which laws get passed, God is always in charge, always working to accomplish his good purposes. Our primary job is to follow and obey him, and to work and pray for HIS kingdom to come to earth.

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Spoiler alert: Noah survives the flood

Published by Daniel on April 6, 2014

I know it’s been discussed to death, but I finally had a chance to see Darren Aronofsky’s movie “Noah.” I love the story of the Bible and I love epic movies, so I was looking forward to seeing this one.

On one hand, I enjoyed the bigness of the story. I’m a guy who enjoys good visual effects, so for me this movie was a fun – though very loose – interpretation of a familiar story. It was sort of “Genesis meets Lord of the Rings” – with giant stone people (Watchers) instead of Tolkien’s tree people (Ents). And it did agree with the Bible that the Creator sent the flood because of humanity’s great sins.

On the other hand, in this movie those sins seemed to be limited to eating animals and hoarding natural resources to build cities. The implication was that if people stopped doing those two things, the Creator might be appeased, no matter what other horrible crimes or sins they committed against him or against each other.

Also, I thought the Creator’s role was too passive. I try to seek God’s role within a story even when he is not overtly mentioned. I did see God’s intervention, but it was too subtle. For example, when facing a vast army by himself, Noah states, “I’m not alone.” That sounds like a statement of faith in God; but then the Watchers rise up around him, implying that Noah’s support comes not from the Creator but from them.

However, I appreciated Aronofsky’s and Russell Crowe’s interpretation of the man Noah. As in the Bible, this Noah is righteous, and the Creator does give him an important task. But this Noah is not a Sunday-school Dr. Doolittle who loves animals and faces the coming apocalypse with a kindly smile. Instead, he is a receiver of prophetic visions, overwhelmed by the foreknowledge of global annihilation. He foresees that there will be a rebirth of life after the flood as part of the Creator’s plan, but he also foresees the end of all life that existed before the flood. To any human, seeing such visions – and then living through their fulfilment – would be horrific.

Further, the movie is scriptural in that it shows an awareness of wickedness not only in humankind, but also in Noah and his family. According to scripture, Noah is righteous; but he is also a human, born of Adam and full of sin. So he is righteous not because he is perfect, but because God declares him so (as with Abraham – Roman 4). He is a finite man trying to wrap his mind around a divine revelation that includes the destruction of all life on earth. Who can approach such a concept without terror and dread?

I believe “Noah” shows the horror of this historic event. The divine command, the enormity of the task, and the catastrophic nature of the event must have weighed heavily on Noah’s mind. But he persevered and carried out God’s instructions, while at the same time he had to hear the desperate screams of drowning masses in his ears. Long after the waters had receded, and even after God’s new covenant and the promise of the rainbow, he must have experienced survivor’s guilt.

After all, he did get blitzed, winding up drunk and naked for his sons to see – but the Bible never explains why. How could—why would—a righteous man do that, after God spares his life and establishes a new covenant with him? For that matter, why was this tidbit even included in scripture? It seems the author just wanted to let us know that Noah got drunk. And naked. What made him strip off his clothes? Was it just to show grief, as elsewhere in the Old Testament (Genesis 37:29; 44:23; Esther 4:1)? Or perhaps the author simply wanted us to know that Noah, though righteous, wasn’t perfect.

We don’t know.

But this is one thing the movie does extremely well. Russell Crowe portrays Noah as a conflicted, flawed human who is still considered righteous by the Creator. That tension rings true to me.

So what exactly is this movie? You could say it’s just a very loose adaptation of the Bible story in that it is about a man named Noah, a big boat, and an even bigger amount of water. It goes wide in the area of poetic license, and I would have liked to see a more active Creator and a more complete definition of wickedness. But overall, I believe Aronofsky treats the story with respect.

And Russell Crowe’s portrayal of Noah as a fallen, righteous man is precisely how Christians should view the people we read about in scripture – the ones God counted as righteous. Every single one of them had faults and sins, just as we do. For them and for us, the only hope is God’s grace and redemption. I see that truth in the movie “Noah”– and I appreciate the honesty.

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Sticks and stones…

Published by Daniel on March 19, 2014

The Internet is buzzing about the latest rant against God from Bill Maher. Set off by the upcoming movie Noah, Maher calls God a ”psychotic mass murderer” who “drowns babies” and has “anger management issues” worse than Russell Crowe’s. Many Christians are shocked, offended, and even enraged by what he said, and everyone seems to be talking about it, so I thought I would offer my two cents as well.

Thought #1: Bill Maher is an atheist. What else would we Christians expect from an atheist? Atheists don’t believe what we believe. They mock what we hold sacred. They will blaspheme a God who, to their way of thinking, does not exist. We can’t possibly hold the expectation that they should treat us and our beliefs with respect.

Thought #2: Bill Maher is an entertainer. An entertainer’s job is to attract and hold people’s attention. That may seem narcissistic, but it is the nature of the beast. Entertainers must continually draw attention or they become irrelevant. Maher’s remarks are designed to get a rise out of believers: the more he can offend Christians (and occasionally those of other faiths too, though not with the same level of venom), the more attention he receives. His provocative and sometimes offensive use of rhetoric is not much different than what Miley Cyrus does with a foam finger or a wrecking ball. When entertainers offend, usually it’s best to just ignore them.

Thought #3: An infinite God does not need to be defended against the rhetoric of a finite man. Often, a first reaction to anti-faith rhetoric is to try to build strong arguments to put doubters like Maher in their place. But if atheists mock our foundational beliefs, they will also mock our retorts. With rare exceptions, very few people have ever been argued into God’s kingdom. Most people’s hearts are changed by love, not logic. Christians should respond to anti-faith attacks not with words of anger but with acts of grace: feeding the poor, helping the sick, praying silently that God will reveal his truth and goodness to Maher and others who don’t believe.

Thought #4: Christianity has survived, and will survive, much worse persecutions than this. In the grand scheme of things, all Maher is doing is hurting some feelings. That’s nothing compared to the brutal persecutions of Christians in ancient Rome, or in present-day China, Egypt, and Syria. Jesus said that his followers would face persecution and even death. A verbal attack like Maher’s is barely a blip in the story of our faith.

Eventually, Maher’s words will fade into a footnote on Wikipedia, if that. But the church will still be the church – flawed and imperfect. We Christians will still be the broken vessels God uses to spread his love. And that is our primary business.

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