As I have reflected on the disaster, there is a thought that continues to haunt me. It’s the thought of young people who have heard the gospel, but haven’t yet decided what to do about it. I know many people who are in the age-range of those players, people who are in their teens or twenties. Many of them have heard the gospel of Jesus Christ, but have not yet responded in repentance and faith. They haven’t outright rejected the gospel—they just haven’t decided yet whether or not they believe it.
But before you panic and make an emergency trip to the grocery store or run to break out that apocalyptic survival gear, know that this isn’t Meade’s first rodeo. He’s predicted that the world would end not once, but twice already this year. Again, before getting into a tizzy and starting to think that maybe this could finally be the real deal, I want you to notice something: we’re all still here.
But this is causing embarrassment to those of us who actually seek to understand and have faith in what scripture actually tells us about the end times.
For the church, the skies are growing dark in the West. But the sky is not falling in.
In fact, this is a great time to be a Christian.
I know it may not look like that. From terrorist attacks to racial injustice to political chaos to an increasingly secular world that seems to have lost its moral center, we find ourselves in some unique and challenging times. Fear runs rampant across our cultural landscape—and, especially and increasingly, fear sits in the pews of our churches. Talk to most Christians—or read most Christian blogs and social media streams—and it’s clear that the church isn’t what it was. Or rather, it isn’t where it was.
We often look at the Beatitudes as a kind of comfort to us, when we just so happen to be staring down the barrel of one of those conditions.
“Jim, I’m sorry for your loss, but on the bright side you will be comforted.”
That rings hollow, doesn’t it? The idea that these verses are there for when life goes wrong is just an utterly Americanized way of reading them. The audience listening wouldn’t have said, “In the rare event that I suffer something like what this Jesus guy is talking about, I will remember that He said this and it will be okay.”
No. Emphatically not. Jesus was making a declarative statement about the nature of reality. Do you see it?
Recently, Planned Parenthood tweeted, “We Need a Disney Princess Who Had an Abortion.” I am a former Disney princess who had an abortion. It is not easy to share a story that represents my deepest personal loss and sadness. But I also will not remain silent knowing what I know.
Through the healing process, I have learned some very important lessons. Planned Parenthood’s method to marginalize motherhood is intentional and still very much alive. It seems the organization is now considering promoting abortion to toddlers who are happily wearing their tiaras like Cinderella. As a grown woman who has battled victorious over demons, slayed the dragons, and survived the poison of evil rhetoric, I cannot stand voiceless and let intentional abortion indoctrination drift in like a cloud to hypnotize my sons and daughters.
On Tuesday, Mark Zuckerberg began his two-day testimony before members of Congress. I had the hearing on in the background all afternoon as I worked on some other projects. (Note: I did not listen to all five hours of his testimony, so I surely missed some noteworthy discussion.)
I thought it would be helpful to share some of my thoughts and observations from the hearing so far.
A favorite from the archives:
But there are things I hate about Twitter and Facebook—often having to do with folks who are charged up about a particular hobby horse, a serious issue, or whatever. These are the people I’m most tempted to block (and often do): hashtag hijackers who spread lies and/or unsubstantiated gossip, or folks who seem to relish the fall of fellow believers. I really struggle to know what to do with these people because, well, I’m really tempted to respond to them and rebuke them.
But that’s not always the best response, as tempting as it might be. Instead, it often winds up getting you into flame wars and makes an awful mess—and depending on your job, it can get you in serious trouble at work if you’ve got a corporation or ministry’s reputation to think of. Instead, there are a few ways that are more helpful—and almost certainly more befitting of a Christian.