Keeping the Captive

KEEPING THE CAPTIVE

To my dad, and to all the Godly mentors the Lord has brought into my life! Thank you for your grace and patience in all you have taught me over the years! May I always speak the truth. . . but in love.

~~~~~`

Too busy to rest, then too restless to sleep. What an odd sensation these Earthlings lose themselves in. They pride themselves in their freedom while they wholeheartedly collect chains. Another pleasurable sin, another vice, another death. We see the natural progression of the natural man, and sometimes we think our job is easy. 

Take my captive, for instance. Your typical, foolish Earthling. He doesn’t help our cause much, but that’s okay. He is slowly dragging himself into the dirt, crushing himself under a load of sins and chains he’s been collecting since birth. I’m watching him right now. I’m obsessed with keeping him. It’s my job. I have provided him with the essentials, of course—a pathetic façade of “life is good” and a couple of weapons to fight back the logic of the enemy with. In one hand he carries the wisdom of man, their primary choice to deflect the evident truth that there is a God. It’s a blunt spiritual sword, really, because who can deny His existence? In the other hand he carries a shield of healthy skepticism of spiritual things. He doesn’t even think I or my kind exist!  I smile at this little captive soldier I’ve built. His armor is so pathetic . . . no more than a mask to hide the deep pain of a meaningless life. And yet off he trudges into another day, ready to fight for his freedom to remain my captive.

You can see why I think my job is easy sometimes, and I am only a low-ranking force compared to most of my comrades! Pardon me for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Lucius, and I am an enlightened angel serving the Morning Star. I reject the plan my Creator had for me, and I live to serve my new lord in his quest to establish his kingdom over all the created world. I live, like he does, to steal, kill, and destroy. I repeat that pattern over and over with each new assignment—each new captive— I am given. I steal away their hope and chance at an abundant life. I crush their earthly life. And they are destroyed forever in an eternal punishment so horrible it was originally reserved for us. Yes, you simple humans call us demons, but don’t forget what we once were. We’re more real, more glorious and profound, than you ever will be in your natural state, Earthlings. Which is why we want to keep you that way.

Does my captive even know we are destroying him? He must know, because despite my hardest efforts to the contrary, he has been exposed to the light several times. He knows of the abundant life our enemy offers . . . a life of true freedom and broken chains. A life of power over the grave and victory over our temptations because of the work of the Son of Man. It’s terrible. Sometimes I can’t believe he doesn’t wake up and see it. Is sin that pleasurable that he would choose it over life?

I jerk myself from my contemplations and turn my attention back to the task for the day. Keep him captive; don’t let them change him. A flash of doubt sparks through my mind. My orders are clear, and though they seem utterly antithetical to my mission, I trust with utter confidence in my superiors. I am taking my captive to see a Christian today. We’ve been orchestrating this appointment all morning, and it is almost show time.

My captive is hard at work at his day job. He works at Starbucks—long shifts too. As many hours as he can get. Right now, he is wiping tables. He’s got his back turned to the Christian, who is walking toward him with coffee and computer bag in tow, but that will change in a second. Sure enough, almost right on cue, the Christian opens his mouth to speak. Here we go!

“Good morning! Thanks for wiping that table.”

“Yeah, not a problem,” my captive replies.

“I can’t stand tables that still have crud on them,” the Christian says. He unslings his computer bag and plops it on the edge of the table, where my captive has already cleaned. They are now on opposite ends of the table from each other. My captive has his head down, rubbing away at the sticky ring someone’s caramel frap has made. The Christian is staring at him awkwardly, waiting for him to finish, trying to think of something else to say. He shifts from one foot to the other, then takes a sip of his coffee. He gulps it down too quickly, I think. It looks like he burns his throat.

“You having a good morning?”the Christian all but chokes out.

“I’m hanging in there.” My captive straightens up and snaps his rag clean. I am afraid he is going to turn and leave, but thankfully, for the sake of not looking completely indifferent, he reciprocates the question. “How about you?”

“Oh I’m good!” the Christian replies. “God is good!”

There it is. Finally! These Christians, they are often so slow getting around to mentioning the God they claim to serve. This is the whole point of the meeting though! A test. A conflict. And if all things work out as planned, a captive even deeper in bondage. I lean forward, watching every moment unfold. I’m ready to insert myself if need be.

Right on cue, my captive bristles. Up goes his shield. It’s invisible to earthly eyes; I wonder if the Christian even notices it. But regardless, my captive’s words make it clear where he stands. “Well, I’m glad God’s working out for you anyway,” he says.

“You don’t believe in God?” the Christian asks. Ah, you see, he wants this opportunity too. The spiritual conflict is inevitable now. I feel myself thrill to the fight. The coffee house setting fades and all but disappears in my mind’s eye. I am immersed in this glorious, eternally-impacting struggle.

My captive shrugs. ”I don’t know. I believe in things I can see and observe.” With these words, he unsheathes the spiritual weapon I have equipped him with, the wisdom of man. I’m disappointed to see that he doesn’t thrust deep with it. Not yet, at least. Maybe he will once he feels more threatened.  

“I have seen and observed God!” the Christian replies. “He is evident in all His creation!” With these words, out comes the Christian’s weapon. It shines brighter than gold, like sunlight on a pure, white snowfield. It is sharp and deadly, able to cut right through the pathetic armor we equip our captives with.

I shudder and draw back, suddenly terrified. What am I thinking! Such a weapon can easily destroy any fortress I might build. It is absolute torment to me! In a moment, I am ready to take flight and flee for my life. Let me go black to darkness, away from the light and the battles. Who cares what happens to my captive, if only I am safe from that terrible weapon! But my eyes lock with one of my superiors across the room. He is a seasoned warrior for our master; he has destroyed countless numbers of captives. He tells me in that glance to hold on.

“I only know,” my captive is saying, “that many, many smart people believe in evolution. What’s more, science has proven it!” It’s a weak thrust with a blunt weapon. Such a jab won’t dent the shield of faith most Christians have, and sure enough, it glances harmlessly off this Christian’s shield.

The Christian raises his brilliant weapon high. It is his turn to strike. I all but grovel in my place behind my captive, knowing I will feel the terrible bite of the Christian’s spiritual weapon. Surely it will rip me to shreds, or if not me, then my doctrines of deceit.  The weapon drops, and I all but screech and flee . . .

 But the blow doesn’t strike me! It cuts deeply into my captive, rending right through his pathetic armor. I hate to see the armor rent, but I am so glad I didn’t receive the blow that I can’t be truly upset.

“The fool says in his heart, there is no God! Fools deny the self-evident truth of God and suppress the truth with their own foolishness. You are a fool if you follow them!”  

Again and again the Christian raises his weapon and strikes. He shares truth after truth, battering down my captive’s feeble attempts to raise his shield of skepticism.  At first I flinch with every stroke, sure one of them will be directed at me, sure that my plans for keeping my captive will be harmed. But with each stroke, I grow more confident, and then even exuberant as I watch. My captive reels from each blow. His spirit is being crushed. He is being emptied and insulted, bludgeoned out of humanity itself. The Christian’s work is far more devastating than any of my efforts in my captive’s life the last year. What amazing destruction! The Christian’s weapons are indeed powerful.

I realize the brilliance of my master’s scheme. Why take my captive to a Christian? For precisely the reason before me! Their weapons can cut deeper than any of ours, even our most potent ones like rage, jealousy, and slander. We know this from experience. Countless numbers of our spiritual strongholds have fallen to the power of their weapons and the Lord they serve.

But what if—imagine this! What if these Christian soldiers mistake our captives for their enemies?

The battle is over. My captive disengages, too weary to continue. The Christian watches my captive as he heads back to the employee section of Starbucks and he even calls out “God bless you!” as if he has just won a great victory. But it is I who have won! Yes, my captive lost his shield and weapon—they are battered to pieces!—but he still carries his chains. He stumbles underneath them, his inward person too damaged to hold up under them much longer.

My captive finds his way out the back door, to where the employees who smoke take their breaks. His friend Joe is there, sprawled out on a green, rust-speckled bench. I wave hello to my comrade assigned to Joe, and he gives me a knowing look and a thumbs up. Joe takes a drag from his cigarette and does one of those “cool man” chin bobs at my captive. “What’s up, dude?”

“I hate Christians.”

Joe laughs. “You too, huh? What happened? Some zealot aim his blaze of glory at you?”

“Yeah, big time Bible-thumper.” My captive sighs, kicks at the cigarette buds that litter the floor, and sits down on the bench next to Joe. “What’s their problem, man? Do they take pleasure in ripping us apart?”

“Naw, they want you to believe what they do, bro.”

“By pounding me into the dirt? I’d rather go to hell than believe what they do.”

“Haha, that’s the spirit. Believe in what makes you happy, that’s what I live by. If that sends me to hell or not, I don’t know. But at least it makes life here bearable.” Joe taps the ashes out of his cigarette and leans back like he has just shared a bit of profound wisdom.

“Keeps our Sundays free, that’s for sure,” my captive replies wryly. For the first time this morning, he smiles. This is perfect! Bit by bit, Joe has nursed my captive’s wounds. He’s helped him recover! At the end of it all, he’s handed my captive back his shield of skepticism and helped arm him again with our spiritual weapons, and my captive is stronger for it. He just might make a good soldier for our cause someday.

The two humans share a laugh, and my captive rises and clasps his friend on the shoulder. “Thanks, Joe, I appreciate you being there for me. I got to get back to the tables.”

“No problem, man, anytime.” Joe flicks his cigarette on the floor and stomps it. “I’ll follow you in. Gotta keep making the big bucks, right?”

“Haha, that’s right. One day at a time.” My captive holds the door open, and the two of them file in.

I pause at the door, collecting myself. Proud, very proud. My superior meets me there. It may sound weird to you humans that we have emotions too, but he is all but smiling as he says, “Good work, Lucius.”

“Thanks. I did well?”

“Yes, it went as well as planned.”

“So what’s next?”

“Same thing as always—keeping the captive. Don’t lose him.”

“After today? I don’t think I ever will.”

My superior nods. “Just keep him away from Christians who actually know how to use their weapons.”

I grin maliciously. “Sounds like a plan!”

~~~~~~

The Lord’s bond-servant must not be quarrelsome, but be kind to all, able to teach, patient when wronged, with gentleness correcting those who are in opposition, if perhaps God may grant them repentance leading to the knowledge of the truth, and they may come to their senses and escape from the snare of the devil, having been held captive by him to do his will. 2 Timothy 2:24-26

In the Way

We've all been told we're "in the way" before. Whether standing in the hall, perusing a shopping isle, or stuck in traffic, we've all experienced a polite "excuse me", a less friendly exclamation of annoyance, or a blaring horn that's let us know definitively: "You are in the way."

That phrase has really struck me recently, but for a different reason thanks to John 14:6: Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through me." I've realized I am in the Way. In the truest sense of the term, I am always in the Way, because of my relationship with Jesus.

The awesome thing is, you are too if you've accepted Jesus as Lord. You've rejected the broad way of the world that leads to destruction and embarked down the narrow way that is life in Jesus. You've followed our Lord's advice to, "Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it. For the gate is small and the way is narrow that leads to life, and there are few who find it." (Mathew 7:13-14)

How does walking on this new, narrow path work itself out practically in real life? It is interesting in that it's not as if our new path as Christians is in a whole new world (we are not transported to Narnia like the Pevensies, unfortunately), but here in the nitty gritty of the same world where we once explored the wide path. We are in the world; we are just no longer of it. And to make matters more confusing, in this world there are crossroads where the wide and narrow ways intersect.

Yep, let that sink in.

These crossroads are explained in Jeremiah 6:16:

This is what the Lord says: Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient path, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls. But you said, 'We will not walk in it.'

It's natural for all of us to ask where each potential path leads when we come to a crossroad, both physically and spiritually.. I praise God that if you're a Christian, you've asked where the good way is, you've walked in that ancient path, and you've found rest for your soul. Moreover, it's our job as Christians to answer those questions being asked at the crossroad. We should be the ones saying, "Here, over here!! This is the path that leads to life!" Unfortunately, clearly there are many who will reply adamantly, "We will not walk in it!"

As Christians, what should our relationship be with these "We Will Not's"? Here is where the explanation becomes a tongue twister. You see, if we are in the Way, than we will be in the way of those people who have rejected the good way. As Proverbs 24:11-12 says:

Deliver those who are drawn toward death, And hold back those stumbling to the slaughter. If you say, “Surely we did not know this,” Does not He who weighs the hearts consider it? He who keeps your soul, does He not know it? And will He not render to each man according to his deeds?

It is our calling as Christians to stand in the gap at the crossroad, to link arms and try and stop those stumbling toward the road sign marked "Broad Way", because we know a more accurate sign would read "Destination: Destruction." That's why Christ is a stumbling block to those who won't believe (1 Peter 2:6-8), and that's why it is our responsibility to preach this stumbling block (1 Corinthians 1:23). It's not that we are somehow clinically sadistic, but that we want to save the lost around us from a path that dead ends--and by dead end, I mean a literal dead end. "There is a way which seems right to a man, But its end is the way of death." (Proverbs 14:12) 

A practical example of this "Standing in the gap" is our public stand at a physical crossroads in front of Planned Parenthood, where we pray to end abortion. We are a terrible stumbling block and "in the way" of a lot of people who don't want even a reminder of the ancient path or the good way, but if we save but one life spiritually or physically, it will be well worth the cries of anger and rage from the "We Will Not's." Even if we don't ever save a life, it is still our calling to try!  And may we all be faithful to that calling.

Lastly, we are also called to bring back those who wander from the narrow path: 

My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. (James 5:19-20)

Even those who start down the narrow path can wander back to the world, and that's why it is so important that we make disciples, and not just converts. To be a Christian is to be in the Way, and to be in the Way is to be in the way of those who would wander straight into hell. So, that leaves me with one question. 

Will you be in the Way with me? 

Does God Call Us to Prioritize Which Neighbors We Serve?

I find my seat against the back wall of the central living room in the retreat lodge. I settled into the hard plastic chair, scanning the cramped room around me. 25 or so of my dear brothers in Christ from our church are gathered. Despite the tight, uncomfortable quarters, the mood is light and filled with anticipation. The men chat jovially, and when it comes time to join in worship, we sing full-heartedly. The excitement and fellowship in the room is so tangible that it surrounds me like a warm, comfortable blanket. Who cares about sitting on this rock-like plastic chair for the next couple of hours. Our church’s annual Men’s Retreat is one of my favorite weekends of the year, and judging from the mood of the men around me, I am not alone in this sentiment. We are all looking so forward to studying God’s Word together and growing in Christ together!

A reflection of this is the group approach to the messages shared. We have not invited a guest speaker these last couple of retreats. Instead, we have men from the church step up to deliver messages. It gives us commonality that way, a close bond of growing together and speaking truth to one another in love. Tonight, it is our dear brother Mike Aust presenting a message. Our theme for the retreat is “Loving Your Neighbors”, and I knew he would tackle that theme head on in his message. Mike is that kind of guy. He is quiet, but confident. A man who seems to think before he speaks, but then speaks with authority what he thinks.

I’m not disappointed as I listen to his message. It flows straightforwardly, if a little sporadically thanks to some technical issues and the heavy amount of scripture he asks for volunteers to read. He asks us, “Who is our neighbor?” And after a pause, thanks to the common wariness of a trick question, Dr. Williams on my right shifts in his hard-plastic chair and says, “everyone.”

Mike nods at this and affirms that that is what he would think too, but then we begin to investigate the heart of God to learn who our neighbor is. We see clearly from verses like 1 Samuel 2:8 and Job 5:11 that God has a heart for the needy and the lowly. We learn in Psalm 12:5 that God will arise and help the needy and set him in the safety for which he belongs.

At the same time, we learn of the opposite category to the needy in other verses: the arrogant. What is God’s heart towards these neighbors? We see a prayer in Psalm 72:4 to “vindicate the afflicted of the people, save the children of the needy and crush the oppressor.” We see clearly in Psalm 138:6 that “God regards the lowly, but the haughty He knows from afar.” What is more, the wounded man on the side of the road in the parable of the Good Samaritan is clearly needy and the one who is provided for, while the arrogant Priest and Levite are nothing more than a sad footnote in the story—an example of who not to be. God exalts the humble, but opposes the proud, is the main sentiment buzzing in the room at this point.

The challenge Mike leads us to as a result of this study is: does loving our neighbor include service to the arrogant? If we are made in the image of God and should seek to portray him, do we serve our arrogant neighbors the same way we serve our needy neighbors?

Now people are shifting in their seats, as if it has just occurred to them that they are, in fact, very uncomfortable. The anticipation has swung to a growing feeling of tension, of confusion in the eyes of the men. As Mike’s presentation winds to a close, it is Stephen Johnson, a man I have worked for and respect a ton, who sparks the conversation we all have been left wanting. As if the tension in the room was a gas vapor that had just found a flicker of flame, the conversation explodes among us men.

“Who then is our neighbor?” Stephen asks.

That is the question in all our minds. It would seem, mistakenly or not, that Mike just asked us to seek to reach those who are needy rather than those who are arrogant. The response this provokes is varied and quite possibly volatile, if it weren’t for the committed love and commonality we men of Shoestring Valley Community Church have for one another. The first response that grabs my attention is from Monte Bainbridge, a worship leader in the church, who points out that we all are arrogant, to varying degrees. It is not a question of reaching out to the needy over the arrogant, for such a notion would force us to split each other in half, to try and minister to one side of us while ignoring the other. We are all both needy and arrogant.

Jeff Oien, a logger and self-described “simple man”, chimes in, agreeing with that sentiment. Everyone around him is his neighbor, obviously, and should be reached out to the same whether they are arrogant or not. In fact, the arrogant are very needy, just in a different way.

Mike responds that “okay, well if you want and that is what God has called you to. But I’m warning you, you won’t have a ton of success.” He shares a couple times he has tried and “failed” to reach the arrogant. The men of the church are quick to point out that when you share God’s Word, it is never a failure. You can plant seeds in the heart of the arrogant even if it doesn’t look like they have responded in any meaningful way.

I watch my dad. He keeps raising his hand to speak—but not far enough to be obviously seen. He gets about as far as ear-level with each raise of the hand, and then usually ends in scratching the back of his head. My dad, ever cautious to create a scene, clearly has something to say. I think at first that he is going to confront Mike’s line of reasoning, but I am surprised by what he says when he gets a chance to speak.

It is in context with Forty Days for Life, which is to be expected since our world has kind of revolved around the campaign this spring. My dad shares how though we pray for the arrogant Cecile Richards, leader of Planned Parenthood, to come to faith in Christ and would share the Gospel with her if we ever got a chance, it is the needy women being victimized by abortion that we are primarily seeking to serve. It’s the needy that deserve our devoted attention.

Mike agrees, “I heard once,” he says, “that the arrogant deserve our prayers, while the needy require our service.”

Jim, who has a last name I can’t attempt to spell out correctly and who is about as quirky as his last name (in a good way), shares how Jesus spoke to all, the Pharisees and the tax collectors and sinners. This strikes me as untrue, because Jesus clearly responded in a different way to the arrogant Pharisees, saying some pretty harsh things to them and veiling the truth from them in parables. As I have listened to the back and forth, my thoughts have slowly formed around another example in Jesus’s ministry.

I finally get a chance to speak up near the end. “What I hear Mike saying,” I say, “is that we are to have priorities in who we seek to reach. As much as we would like to reach the world, we can’t. I was thinking about how when Jesus sent his disciples out in pairs to share the good news of the Kingdom, he told them to shake the dust off their sandals in towns that wouldn’t receive them and move on. God doesn’t call us to keep wasting our energies to reach people who won’t receive us. We should primarily serve the needy who actually desire our help.”

There are some nods of agreement, and Mike says that was a great example of what he was talking about. I feel weird aligning myself more towards the “priorities” side of the aisle—because honestly, I agreed whole heartedly with what Jeff had said about everyone being our neighbor. And I can see some brothers disagree with what I said. Is there a way to love everyone as our neighbor, I wonder, while still recognizing our specific calling to serve the needy?

Pastor Dean closes the discussion time by emphasizing how much he appreciates that our church can have these discussions. It’s a sign of a healthy church to seek out truth together, and to express our opinions in a way that will not cause division, but to help us grow. I can’t agree more. While the conversation was tense, it never became divisive. We all appreciated the chance to wrestle with this interesting perspective on loving our neighbor. It is a great way to start the retreat, and the lodge’s living room is still a comfortable place of fellowship and anticipation. I find that I don’t mind at all the soreness from sitting on the hard-plastic chair for the last couple of hours. It was well worth it.