Are there less Christians in America?

At some point in the past year, a poll came out with this starting conclusion: Between 2007 and 2014, the percentage of American Christians dropped from 78% to 70%. As the overall population of the United States grew, the population of Christians shrunk. Data found here: http://www.pewforum.org/2015/05/12/americas-changing-religious-landscape/.

Before you rejoice or lament over such a dramatic shift, perhaps you should ask: Is this actually true?

Some of the data can be validated in part: For example, we know through denominational statistics that the mainline Protestant denominations are shrinking. This should not surprise us because these denominations have generally exchanged the historic "other-worldly" message of Christianity for a more palatable "this-worldly" message. A church becomes irrelevant when it has lost touch with the transcendent.

But a larger point must be made here: The decline here is not necessarily in the number of actual Christians, but in the number of people who identify as Christians. This is the true flaw in the study. How can you ask people if they are something if you don't define what that something is? It is totally subjective. If you ask me if I am fast, you are asking me to also define "fast." I could define it by a certain pace over a certain distance, or in comparison with other runners. My answer, however, will not tell you how fast I am but how fast I think I am.

Words have meaning, not just interpretations. In order to conduct an effective study of Christianity in America, you must first come up with some sort of standard definition of Christianity--perhaps "One who believes in the person and work of Jesus Christ alone for his or her salvation." Of course, all of that language is broad and could be unpacked. You could also further drill down and try to get past "nominal" (name-only) Christianity and ask questions about prayer, Bible reading, and church attendance. But these things are echoes, not at the essence, of Christianity.

According to historian Thomas Kidd in his book God of Liberty, the number of actual Christians throughout American history is much smaller than we often suppose. Using some of the same criteria as mentioned above, historians have speculated that the population of Christians in America has generally hovered around 15% of the population. That number may also be declining, but there is no way to determine that through asking people for their opinion of what group they belong to.

Of course, this rebuttal of the findings doesn't change the fact that less people consider themselves to be Christians. Might we speculate on alternative interpretations of why this is the case?

If those who hold to the core message of Christianity--the Gospel--have generally only made up about 15% of the American population, why would the vast majority of Americans consider themselves Christian? Well, Christianity used to be much more popular in American society than it is now. Politicians had to assert their (nominal) Christian credentials and "good Christians" (as if such a thing exists) were considered staples of their communities. Christianity was also closely intertwined with Americanism--to the extent that the untrained could would barely be able to tell them apart.

In past generations, the Christian label brought with it certain social benefits. The same cannot be claimed today in most areas of the country. Either you claim to be a tolerant Christian and not one of those evangelical Christians, or you face a certain degree of stigma and scorn. Christianity in its true form is no longer fashionable and more and more, faith in Christ comes with a cost.

I would argue that the decline in self-identified Christians is not a reflection of the number of actual Christians, but a reflection of the increasing cost of being a Christian. And with the increase of soft persecution--suppression of speech, economic retaliation, etc.--I would expect the number of self-identified Christians to continue to decline dramatically.

On the bright side, as Christian "morals" are no longer considered by many to be indispensable to American society, and as they are treated more as a hindrance to society, people will be forced to look at Christianity in terms of truthfulness rather than usefulness. It doesn't matter what sort of effect Christianity has on society--Is it true? A useful belief does not sustain people when it is no longer deemed useful. A true belief will sustain people regardless of whether it is deemed useful--for the Truth is mightier than the hoard.

Political Religion and Death

I recently attended a political prayer breakfast and was honored to be asked to read a selection of Scripture of my choosing. For those of you who know me, you know that Colossians 3:1-4 is my passage for such occasions. It doesn't exactly rally the political troops, but does hopefully put their political causes in proper perspective. With the Easter season in mind, I wrote a post on this topic for a DC-based political site: http://www.politicalstorm.com/political-religion/.

Unfortunately, as you might expect from a political prayer breakfast, there was a clear confusion between their political mission and Christ's earthly mission. When speaking of unethical journalists and the smear campaigns against their candidates, one politician asked the gathering to pray for these journalists "for they know not what they do." This is the language of Christ, referring to those who were crucifying Him. No politician is being crucified. We have no right to claim the unique cause of Christ with our own. No one stood with Him on that day. We were those the Savior prayed for, not those doing the praying. These lines must be maintained!

A few days later, we had the first official gathering of our newly-named Meetup group, "The Real Happy Hour." A young man from our church and I were joined again by our unbelieving, married friends (referred to in past posts). After a very heavy conversation last time, this talk was more light-hearted. The notable exception was a brief discussion on death. The husband, a former Army Ranger, didn't believe that death was worth thinking about because we can't do anything about it. The wife saw value in thinking about it in order to mentally prepare for it.

A brief thought: If we can't change something--say, the inevitability of death--does that mean that we shouldn't think about it? Or should we think about it in order to better understand it, cope with it, and somehow, to overcome it? Death, as horrible as it is, prompts us to consider why death is a pervasive reality and search for a hope that transcends death. Let us not flee such thoughts or discussions!

Speaking of death (as I so often do), I spent three days this past week in Eau Claire training for casualty notifications (knocking on a loved one's door with a soldier dies). We watched realistic portrayals about what such notifications would look like. I won't describe them here, but my heart was persistently squeezed like a sponge. Like the many funeral duties I have performed, I find solace in such duties in my relationship with the One who has defeated death for us. On the lone, Spring-like day I was in Eau Claire, I ran through the city and over some of the many bridges that stretch across it's rivers. And on that run, I ran as one spared from death's sting and the grave's victory.

Last night, we had three young couples to our house for dinner. One couple only came to truly know the Lord in the last two years. I love spending time with those who so vividly remember what it is like to be drawn from death to life. After dinner, I preached our Good Friday service at church and was grateful to see a married couple from our local Toastmasters chapter--Unitarians--in the pews. I prayed that the Lord would make me clear in presenting the hard and wonderful truths of the Gospel, and I trust He enabled me to do so for the sake of these friends and the glory of His name.

Tomorrow, my family's Easter dinner will be open to any who do not have a place to go. So far, we have three people signed up and fervently hope for more. We will dine upon lamb whilst remembering the Lamb who was slain for our sin and now reigns on high. If Christ is indeed raised and if we are indeed raised with Him, then neither politics nor death have the final claim upon us. Our lives are hidden with Christ in God. You may not believe that yet. But when He appears, so will you also appear with Him in glory. You will know it then. Amen and amen.

Why Baptize Babies

As I have engaged a brother on this issue recently, I would like to put to you, the reader, my basic rationale for why God's Word commands us to baptize the children of a believing parent.

What is baptism? The Westminster Shorter Catechism reminds us that "Baptism is a sacrament, wherein the washing with water in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, doth signify and seal our ingrafting into Christ, and partaking of the benefits of the covenant of grace, and our engagement to be the Lord's" (#94). References: Acts 2:38-42; Rom. 6:3-4; Gal. 3:26-27, etc.

The key thing to remember is that baptism is a sign and seal of the covenant of grace--a covenant made with Abraham for the salvation of all of God's people through Jesus Christ (Gen. 15). So who should receive this sign and seal? All members of the covenant of grace. Who are members of the covenant of grace?

In Colossians, baptism is closely tied to circumcision, the Old Testament sign and seal of the covenant of grace: "In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, 12 having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead" (2:11-12).

So who received circumcision in the Old Testament? Well, Abraham, the recipient of the covenant of grace, for one: "He received the sign of circumcision as a seal of the righteousness that he had by faith while he was still uncircumcised. The purpose was to make him the father of all who believe without being circumcised, so that righteousness would be counted to them as well, and to make him the father of the circumcised who are not merely circumcised but who also walk in the footsteps of the faith that our father Abraham had before he was circumcised" (Rom. 4:11-12).

Abraham received the sign and seal of the covenant of grace because of the righteousness that he had by faith, but that sign and seal was not for Abraham only. In the same passage (Gen. 17), God commanded Abraham to circumcise all men in his household--even Ismael! They were not all believers as Abraham was, but they were members of the covenant of grace by virtue of their relationship to Abraham. As one would expect from a God who manifests his grace through a covenant, He considers those who come into the family of faith or born into the family of faith to be members of the covenant.

Thus, God likewise commanded Abraham to circumcise his son, Isaac, at eight days old (Gen. 21). And this was an abiding command throughout the Old Testament. The children, by virtue of their parent's faith, were considered part of God's covenant of grace. Their bloody circumcision was like a sermon cut into their bodies, reminding them that either they or a substitute would have to be cut off for their sin. The sermon in their flesh cried out for an echo of response--to circumcise their hearts.

Eventually, Christ would Himself be their circumcision, cut off for their sake and ours. But while Christ's fulfillment of the symbolism of circumcision may have changed the form of the sign and seal of the covenant of grace from circumcision to baptism (Matt. 28), He did not change the substance of the sacrament. Baptism was clearly to function as a sign and seal like circumcision, and it's initial use in Acts was tied to the promise made to Abraham (for you and your children after you).

The covenant of grace was fundamentally the same in the New Testament as the Old--sinners were saved by grace through faith in Christ. The key difference was that God's people were no longer looking at a hazy picture of Christ on the horizon, but the historical picture of Christ on the cross--communicated through the preaching of the Word and sacraments.

In the same way, it must be inferred that the signs and seals of the covenant of grace were substantially still the same and the recipients of them still the same. Children were members of the covenant in the Old Testament. Imagine the controversy if such a change had been made! We should expect a command from Christ to do away with something so fundamental. The burden of proof is upon those who would assert that Christ changed the covenant in this way.

But He did not. The command given to Abraham concerning his children abideth still. The numerous household baptisms in Acts can be presumed to be like the household circumcision under Abraham. Again, the burden of proof lies upon those who would contend that the meaning of household with regard to the sacrament had somehow changed between the Old Testament and New, that children would no longer be included in that concept. Rather, Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 7 that children are sanctified through a believing parent and are considered holy.

Like circumcision, baptism is a sermon written upon the flesh, reminding us that we will one day be submerged by the waters of death for our sin or another in our place. As with circumcision, this act and promise of God cries out for an echo: To embrace by grace and through faith the Christ who was submerged unto death. Every child of a believing parent--rightly considered a member of the covenant of grace--will have that sign and seal of baptism testify to them every day for the rest of their lives.

Paul compares baptism to the Exodus in 1 Corinthians 10. In the Exodus, men, women, and children passed through the waters of death with their mediator, Moses, at their head. The same waters swallowed up the Egyptians. In the same way, parents, send your children through the waters of baptism and regard them as holy (as our Lord does), knowing that such a powerful sermon written upon their flesh will likely reverberate into the echo of saving faith, and if not, will reverberate in their judgment for tasting of the Spirit's continual grace, yet rejecting it.

Should Your Church Be Diverse?

I participated in an urban ministry luncheon the other day at a Denny's in Milwaukee. In order to get there, I drove by a bustling bistro full of white people and past neighborhoods of detached homes with well-manicured lawns. Soon after passing under the highway, I was met by endless arrays of small apartment buildings and fast food restaurants. The luncheon took me from one side of the tracks to the other in what is reputed to be the most segregated city in the country.

Is this a problem? Don't most people naturally congregate with those who have the most culturally in common with them? If we took socio-economic factors out of the equation and the inner city was not the economically-ensnared hellhole that it has become, would the separation be that big of a deal?

For the church, it should be a big deal. The church is a culture primarily defined by Christ, not by race. We do not call people "brother" or "sister" because they share our race, but because they share our grace. We see in our diversity a foretaste of the heavenly wedding feast, where all tribes and tongues will have a place at the table. And we long to show a watching world that the Gospel is not a white man's religion (the fact that most Christians lives outside the West should attest to that).

At the same time, diversity should not be the primary focus of the Church. I have seen many a church lift up multi-racial hands of unity but not lift up the Lord and Savior of sinners. This is where we confuse our heavenly imagery. The tribes and tongues do not sit upon the throne, but before the throne. It is Jesus Christ, and Him alone, who draws sinners from every place unto Himself.

This is the tragedy of  most of what has been called "social justice" over the past couple of years. It has focused on horizontal reconciliation between men and not vertical reconciliation between man and God. The same Christ who reconciles man to God is the same Christ who then enables men to reconcile with one another!

As Christians, we should work to break down social barriers that have no place within the Church, where there is neither Greek nor Hebrew. Is should not be our governing cause, which is the glory of God in Christ, but it should be a cause nonetheless. This will not come through working in soup kitchen, where predominantly one race is behind the counter and one race on the side of the counter. This will not come through service projects that go to help needy blacks and Hispanics.

While such things are worthy tasks in and of themselves, they perpetuate the lie that one race is always on the giving end of grace and the others on the receiving end. The best thing we can do is initiate friendships, share table fellowship, and seek to learn rather than instruct. Love is not primarily material, but spiritual, and in that way, the most impoverished person has as much to give as the suburbanite. We are ALL needy for God's grace in Christ!

I met a 68 year old black pastor who has devoted much of the last 50 years of his life to ministering the Gospel in the worst neighborhood in Milwaukee. My theological education might be more robust than his and my doctrine a bit more precise, but I do not deserve to tie the man's shoes. All that I could teach about the Gospel are things already embedded heart-deep in this father in the faith.

If you are saved by God's grace through faith in Jesus Christ--if your heart's renewed desire is to see God glorified--then you will desire to see the Gospel drawing all peoples into your particular corner of His Church.

I remember leaving suburban California one summer for Malawi, Africa. In Escondido, I often felt like an alien. In Josophat Mwale Theological Institute, I felt like family. Few things will show you the grace and glory of God in this world more than how He draws the most diverse people into the most precious unity in Christ.

Hiding the Real You in the Smart You

What an encouraging week!

Amidst a wave of sicknesses that swept through our family (including my visiting in-laws), I received a lot of positive news on the professional front.

*I was appointed to the Menomonee Falls Library Board. I will now be working with a group of impassioned citizens to shape the direction of this venerable institution and social hub in the Falls.

*I am now regularly blogging for a new political website, which gives me an opportunity to channel my love for politics into something that doesn't interfere with the Lord's ministry at Falls Church.

*I have an interview tomorrow at the YMCA to discuss the possibility of leading a Boot Camp course. Like the library, the Y tends to be a social hub for the Falls.

In each of these things, the Lord has provided me with opportunities to use my meager gifts in His service, form greater contacts within the community, and earn more income for my family. It is amazing--the Lord's provision for our family has always been a provision in pieces. And such provision keeps us humble and grateful.

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I was running with another runner on our weekly Tuesday night run when he asked me about my other Meetup group, now named "The Real Happy Hour." I gave him the gist--a no-BS discussion group where we can talk about deep things. He told me that he grew up Roman Catholic and was thinking about returning to the church.

But, he said in a self-consoling manner, I still have faith and I think that's the most important thing. Naturally, we spent the last mile of our run talking about "faith in what?" Religion means nothing. For most of the world, religion is a system of belief built upon one's ability to do good and please God. Faith means nothing. For most of the world, faith is simply the belief in one's inner goodness and ability.

Faith in Jesus Christ is utterly distinct. Such faith recognizes that there is nothing in one's own heart worthy of trust or hope. It instead receives and recognizes Christ alone for salvation. And such faith is also a gift--the God-given instrument through which God grants sinners salvation (Eph. 2:8-9).

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A third runner was absent from these discussions, but joined me for a drink afterward to talk about the other Meetup group. We talked for a little while, but whenever I asked about his current relationship, he deferred. He said he likes talking religion and politics, but not personal things. I asked him if he uses topics like religion and politics to keep people from getting to know him.

I remember one guy who often came to our discussion Meetup in DC. He loved to debate religion (often obnoxiously), but refused to get personal. I would try to ask about his upbringing, his marriage, his children, but he would refuse. It's amazing that people are willing to talk about intellectual abstractions, but not let you near the personal experience that shapes their thinking!

My theory during that time was that the man was using his constant intellectual musings to deflect from anything personal. In a sense, he used his intellect as a barrier to keep him safe. And I think that we often do that. We use all manner of devices--from divulging almost everything about ourselves to constantly advancing meaningless intellectual arguments to emotional manipulation--all in the name of keeping people from seeing the real us.

The truth is that such deflections to make us look any prettier. And the nastiness we often think we're protecting is still nastiness that we love so much that we'll do anything to protect it. It is a perverse form of self-loathing self-love.

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That night concluded with several hours of good conversations with a brother from the church. He was going through a lot of hard circumstances and was often not handling them in the best ways. And he didn't hide any of it. He is a broken man, but he is God's broken man. Because he is broken--and he knows it--he can marvel every day at the grace of God and endeavor to do better. His failures teach him. When he sees his lack of grace, he sees God's abundance of grace. It's beautiful.

Like many of you, I struggle with my brokenness. I am ashamed of it and desire to cover it up. I want people to see a smart me, a strong me, a fake me--that is really no more attractive than the ugliness I hide. All of me belongs to Jesus. My life is hidden with Christ in God. He knows me, inside and out, and He loves me (Psalm 139). That means I can be who I am, because what I am is saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ.

The solution to our fear comes in knowing that we are always safe in Christ.

Deeper Than Belief

Last month's Army drill weekend consisted of three days of trudging through the mud in order to visit with hundreds of soldiers. This month's drill packed three chapel/church services, a birthday party, and Army physical training into a grueling 36 hour period.

On Saturday morning, I conducted a chapel service for soldiers here at our Milwaukee unit. Only a handful were able to attend, so I was able to answer questions as we worked our way through the Bible passage. One of the questions that kept coming us is one of the fundamental ones for whole Christian faith: If the people knew Jesus was righteous (they did), that He performed miracles (they did), and that He claimed to be God and did things that only God could do (they did), then why did they kill him? I'll leave this question open-ended, but know the answer is unsettling and cries out for a resolution.

I then went home over my lunch break to help host our little girl's first birthday party. From there, I drove three and half hours to Eau Claire in order to make it before our unit's closing formation. I socialized with soldiers for a little while before heading over to a ratty motel to watch election results, talk to my wife, and prepare for the next day.

Sunday morning got off to a bizarre start when a drunk man at the hotel thanked me for my service and then asked me for a ride for both him and his buddy. Leaving right away, I figured I could get them where they wanted to go and back to the unit just in time. I dropped them off at a laundromat where they were supposedly meeting up with a woman. Why? Don't know; don't care. All they'll remember amidst their hangover is that some Army chaplain cared for them.

I led an early, somewhat impromptu chapel in one of our company offices. Only one female soldier was able to make it, which enabled us to have a more personal time of interaction over the passage. The officer who worked in the office stayed in there during our informal chapel and remarked that he appreciated knowing more of the history and background behind Jesus' trial. I asked him about his religious background--his mom is Lutheran and his dad a Jehovah's witness. He was largely raised outside of the church.

He didn't believe much of Christianity, but liked to learn about the history. It was fascinating, like something for the History Channel. He just didn't give much credibility to the supernatural stuff since he had come to learn about Science (intentionally capitalized, since as usual the physical sciences are being given religious weight).

I told this young officer that the fact that is occurred in history is critical, but that we also can't rule out the supernatural component because of Science. I repeated my constant claim--our interpretation of the physical sciences--along with everything else---are rooted in a philosophy. In this case, most people root their view of the physical sciences in empiricism--the belief that truth can only be measured by the senses (as astonishing faith claim). He saw my point--not even clear and compelling logic can lead to truth if all truth has to be put under the microscope.

As with the questioning soldiers in Milwaukee, a common thread woven throughout the weekend is that we all need to understand why we believe what we believe. The best things to put under the microscope are our own hidden assumptions concerning the nature of God, man, the world, and how it is that we can know something.

The conversation had to be cut short as I needed to race off to a local OPC church plant to conduct their worship service (for the second day in a row, a pretty crazy lunch break). It was a wonderful and humbling experience as I got to proclaim God's Word to His people in a movie theater! I then enjoyed a brief bite of lunch with one of the families in the church.

I started off the afternoon by reading a recently-published brigade memorandum on suicide prevention to the unit and followed up by advertising our Army marriage retreats. These two things are closely tied together. Most suicides are not caused by hard circumstances, but by the process through which we interpret those circumstances and the lack of a relationships to help carry us through hard times. The most important thing we can do to prevent suicide is building stronger webs of relationships, including stronger marriages.

One hour later, I was on a nearby quarter-mile race track, running warm-up laps for a surprise diagnostic test of our physical fitness. This was not the test that they officially record, which will be in May and includes 2 minutes of push-ups, 2 minutes of sit-ups, and 2 mile run. Instead, this was a 1-1-1 to assess where we are at. I put on almost 10 pounds of Wisconsin weight in my first couple of months here, and only started to run again over the past month as my running group gained traction.

I did 53 sit-ups (tied for first), 70 push-ups (first), and ran a 6:45 mile (third--almost caught second). These numbers were promising, but not where I want them to be (except push-ups). I need to improve my sit-ups and run by our May test. I can, and by God's grace, I will. This is tied to my chaplain ministry--and both my performance yesterday and my care for soldiers throughout the diagnostic opened up conversations. A former Army Ranger walked with me the whole way back to the unit, asking me about the exact role of a chaplain.

The day ran late (as usual), and darkness quickly descended on my three and a half hour drive back. I stuffed my face with greasy fast food to replenish the calories I burned and felt disgusting. The duration of the drive after a workout also left me very sore and uncomfortable. I got home at 8:45pm, and though I'm a late night hawk, I went to bed within an hour.

A couple of lessons learned:

1) Don't do the long drive two days in a row. All driving and no talking make Stephen go crazy.
2) Workout + lots of fast food + hours of driving = Yuk.
3) Even drunk people in Wisconsin are very respectful toward soldiers.
4) The Lord will strengthen me for everything to which He calls me, but that doesn't mean I will feel strong before, during, or after.

The Power of Brokenness

A small group of us gathered at a local pub to talk about deep things and discuss what a regular group dedicated to such discussions would look like. Three of us were raised in the church, but really only came to own Christ later in life. Two others were raised in the church and had thoroughly rejected Jesus Christ. What a crazy dynamic--two people who had left the faith talking with three who had returned!

The two who had left the faith--a married couple--had left for different reasons. The husband had grown up in an anti-intellectual, charismatic church in rural Wisconsin. He came to doubt that Christianity could be sustained against the rigors of the intellect. His time in the Marines and as an Army Ranger seemed to confirm that the world was more complex than it is presented in Christianity. (By the way, this is the guy I talked with for three hours at Panera a few weeks ago.)

His wife was also raised in rural Wisconsin, but was raised in a more-mainstream religious Wisconsin home--one where church attendance was occasional and being a good person was mandatory. Her primary complaint with Christianity came with its teaching on sexuality. She didn't like it for the same reason as most people our age--it seems bigoted, judgmental, arbitrary, etc. And as her husband noted, she was more against Christianity than he was.

I could see that--when one of the guys started engaging her on the issue of sexuality, she was noticeably tense and stand-offish. I tried my normal neutralizer on the matter: Sexuality is important, but it doesn't define us. It is not fundamental. Our culture tells us that it is of fundamental importance, but what does it mean for someone who lacks part of their anatomy and can't be sexual? Are they still a person? In any case, I think that took some of the string from that issue and helped us to proceed.

For much of the next four hours, I engaged with my quick-witted counterpart and the other two guys conversed with his wife. This division actually worked really well, as it gave people more room to talk and be heard. My counterpart broke out a line of reasoning from our past conversation for why he didn't believe in God's justice--namely, that justice is a tool of those who have something to fear. If God is truly God, he argued, then he would not have fear and thus have no reason to judge man.

It's a weird argument to track--it feels like a variation of the common postmodern belief that truth is but a means to power. My point in bringing up the argument here is not to help others understand it (I barely do), but rather, to show the need to contest others' assumptions. Many very smart people to talk about principle issues as if they're peripheral. Here's what I mean: They argue that because "A" is such and such (justice is result of the fear), then logically, "B" is such and such (God wouldn't judge).

When smart people do this, they are deflecting you from their very questionable premise about the way things work and force you to engage their conclusion. It is important to stop them right there. "Woah woah woah," I stopped him. Feel free to keep going, but I want you to know that you are making some huge assumptions and built an entire system around them. At the heart of your religion is this belief that fear is central. Feel free to critique other views, but you need to recognize that your view is built on that assumption."

He acknowledge my remarks--whether they did much good is another matter. Bottom line: Don't let people assume their way into a position, which will often put you on the defensive. Always. Ask. Why.

Meanwhile, my two believing friends were much more gently engaging this man's wife. Her husband--like me--is a verbal steamroller. She, like the other two guys, tends to be a bit more measured. She was genuinely curious about why the three of us returned to the faith. I think our answers unnerved her a bit (in a good way) because they were all part-testimony, part-apologetic.

My heart glowed with what I heard or later heard explained from the other guys. One of these young men often gets tongue-tied, but because he wasn't constantly jumping in, the wife strained all the more to hear and understand him when he talked. And his testimony went straight at the heart of her critique of Christianity. He had engaged in a lot of regrettable behaviors, but it was Christ who granted him true acceptance.

Likewise, the other young man spoke of his years of being a dead-beat dad, or as he termed it, a "piece of s--t." He knew that he was that type of person. Yet the mother of his daughter, who he married his past year, loved him unconditionally. In her love, he saw a picture of how God could love a piece of s--t like him."

This last explanation caught the wife for a loss. She said that she hadn't her anything as moving as that in a long time. But what spoke to this woman? It would seem that it was the broken-hearted vulnerability of these two young men. She saw what they saw--the worst of sinners--and no attempt to cover it up. As a result, she got an incredible view of Christ's perfect patience toward sinners.

My buddy (the husband) has already emailed me, telling me that he has another friend who would like to come to the next Meetup. These conversations are life to me. Four hours on heaven and hell; Forever in heaven or hell always in view.