Do newbie Christian media critics know their complaints can be just as sentimental and hackneyed as some of the stuff they condemn?

Yes, newbie Christian media critic. We know how terrible/preachy/stupid/dumbity stupid dumb dumb you suddenly realize a lot of “Christian” media is. Glad you figured it out. No, really. It’s not unimportant to memorize the multiplication tables.

But. You must be new here.

Of course, plenty of stories, movies, and music by Christians is plenty dumb. Or preachy. Or even (this is less popular to say) plain doctrinally incorrect, or else straight-up heretical.¹

But, whenever people say this stuff as if it’s some revolutionary discovery, I’ve often written countless little micro-essays that attempt dual purposes:

1. Empathize with the person who has suddenly woken up and complains, hey, some of this stuff is really terrible.
2. Challenge the critic to mature in his response and realize that, really, such complaints are really basic, 101-level stuff.

Sure, we’re all learning. We’re all in process, all on our own journeys.

But: the quicker you can figure out that these complaints are (1) cliche; (2) basic; (3) a very early part of maturing as a Christian creative voice—the better.

Perhaps I can help get this started. Perhaps the newbie Christian media critic simply must begin to feel that all his or her clever criticisms have all been said before, thousands of times, in the great circle of Christian Creative Life.

So this time I’m foregoing my usual micro-essay responses, links to previous articles, etc.

Instead, I’ll just share a few modified quotes. Then I’ll share a few brief replies. Very brief. In fact, they’re mostly animated GIFs.²

After all, newbie Christian media critics often repeat an amazing new concept: “Show, not tell!”

Please note: I’m not making fun of newbie Christian-media critics. My intent is only to challenge them to think beyond the cliches. Try to be more biblical and less reactionary in your criticisms. And also: keep growing.³

1. ‘I don’t read/watch/listen to “Christian” media because it’s all terrible.’

2. ‘Christian stories never show really real life in reality!’

3. ‘God isn’t against sex!’

4. ‘Great stories need to include more swearing!’

5. ‘No one likes preachy stories!’

Let’s go beyond the cliches.

If I missed a newbie Christian media critic cliche, let me know. And I’m curious what your short or animated GIF response would be.

Over the weekend we learned Pure Flix’s latest movie, Unplanned, will be rated R.¹

Here’s the story from The Hollywood Reporter:

Pure Flix Entertainment, the family friendly label known for distributing God’s Not Dead and a few dozen other movies aimed at Christians, will release its first R-rated film next month, and it is none too happy about having to do so.

The film, Unplanned, tells the true story of Abby Johnson, who defected from Planned Parenthood to become a pro-life activist. While the filmmakers were certain they were making a PG-13 film, the MPAA has informed them that it will, in fact, be rated R unless all scenes of abortions are removed or altered.

The filmmakers are refusing to change anything, putting Pure Flix in the awkward position of having to open an R-rated movie on March 29. The company’s other releases, roughly two dozen movies, were all rated G, PG or PG-13.

“A 15-year old girl can get an abortion without her parent’s permission but she can’t see this movie without adult supervision? That’s sad,” said Ken Rather, the executive vp of distribution for Pure Flix.²

At first I wasn’t sure whether to be happy about this or simply amused. After chuckling a bit at the irony, I realized this is a good sign of growth for Christian movies.

In fact, I think Pure Flix should intentionally make more films that could be rated R. So should other Christian filmmakers.

Here are three reasons why.

1. Unplanned‘s R-rating is for good reason.

Not all R-rated movies get that rating for the same reason.

They’re not all full of explicit or gratuitous images of sex and violence. They’re not all nihilistic or exploitative.

Christians already “practiced” viewing at least some R-rated films redemptively in 2004. That’s when Mel Gibson released his film The Passion of the Christ. Yes, it was intense. It had a lot of violence, especially during the (often arguably overdone) scene of Roman soldiers scourging Jesus. But most Christians reacted with maturity. They understood that if any visual story required portrayal of violence, then it’s the story of Christ’s brutal torture and execution—the very means of God reconciling his wrath against sin and his mercy toward humans.

I think many Christians also understand that humans sometimes need to see violence. Even culturally separatist Christian leaders don’t usually condemn Christian soldiers or emergency room nurses for seeing torn-apart bodies, either in images or in real life.

Most Christians also make room for soberly facing the truth about a socially approved evil, such as lynching, povery, or abortion.

So far, Unplanned‘s social media folks offered a similar mature response. They rightly presume that not all R-rated movies are nihilism– or slash– or sex-fests. Instead, they offer chances for spiritually strong viewers, such as Christian parents, and spiritually growing viewers, such as children, to see and discuss the story together.

2. ‘The world is rated R, and no one is checking IDs.’

By the way, N. D. Wilson will appear at next month’s Great Homeschool Convention in Fort Worth, Texas. I’m also going there to aid the Realm Makers Bookstore and represent Lorehaven Magazine.

The phrase comes from fantasy author and poet-theologian N. D. Wilson:

The world is rated R, and no one is checking IDs. Do not try to make it G by imagining the shadows away. Do not try to hide your children from the world forever, but do not try to pretend there is no danger. Train them. Give them sharp eyes and bellies full of laughter. Make them dangerous. Make them yeast, and when they’ve grown, they will pollute the shadows.³

If the real world is rated R, and Christian-made movies intend to show the real world, then it makes little sense to emphasize only movies that can be rated G (or only PG, or only PG-13).

Otherwise, at best, we really are trying to be “more spiritual than God.”

What if we (understandably) argue that Christian movie audiences won’t support this kind of truth-telling-with-violence? In that case, we are dangerously close to accepting a kind of “bribe” to ignore injustice.⁴ No, it’s not a de facto bribe from those who commit injustice. But it is a kind of “bribe” from other people who’d just as soon not confront the real-world consequences of the injustice.

3. Christ’s people are no longer corrupted by dead bodies; instead, we can help resurrect them.

Ezekiel 37’s image of God resurrecting a valley of dead bones shows perhaps the most beautiful image of resurrection in all the Old Testament.

Some biblical Christians are more thoughtful and less reactionary about the concept of violent images or content.

At the back of their minds, they may remember biblical prohibitions against touching dead human bodies.⁵ Or they may remember plenty of other ceremonial laws against handling animals, food, or objects God deemed “unclean.”

Christians like to debate about how and why God made these distinctions for Israel. We must note, however, that Jesus Christ, the ultimate fulfillment of God’s Law,⁶ literally touched dead bodies on several incredible occasions. But what happened when he did? Instead of Jesus becoming ceremonially unclean, these people returned to life. Death did not ceremonially corrupt Jesus. Instead, his life flowed out and (temporarily) resurrected the dead persons Jesus touched.

This truth helps remind Jesus’s people that we experience Jesus’s fulfillment of the Law. We are no longer bound to follow the Law’s ceremonial aspects, including its division between “clean” and “unclean.”

This means that Christians can work in nursing, funeral homes, or crime forensics—washing to avoid germs, but without need to avoid ceremonial uncleanness.

This also means that as Christians spread the gospel to every part of the Earth, we take part in Jesus’s long-range spiritual resurrection project. Every day we encounter members of the spiritual walking dead, that is, persons dead in their trespasses and sins. Yet through the work of the Holy Spirit, through the gospel shared by redeemed saints, we get to see people come to life in Christ.⁷

If we feared touching dead people, we couldn’t do a lot of God’s work on Earth.

If we still spiritually feared touching spiritually dead people, we would end up disobeying Jesus’s Great Commission.

Finale: To see light best, you need to consider the darkness

“Violence [in fiction] has to have a very specific reason: to show the result of evil.”
— fantastical thriller novelist Robert Liparulo

“If you make life too antiseptic, you discredit how difficult it is to be faithful.”
— storyteller Carla Cook Hoch, FightWrite.net

For more about the biblical place of violence in stories, see “Roundtable: Engaging Fictional Violence in Our Real Worlds,” Lorehaven Magazine (spring 2018).

But notice this: We wouldn’t find delight or relief in ministering to (spiritually) dead people if we didn’t first know about the Law. First we had to know how hazardous dead bodies could have been before we could find joy in the life of Jesus.

Similarly, people can’t know about the wonders of saving faith unless they also face the horror of death.

That’s why I hope this film commits to showing, at least somewhat honestly, what actually happens in abortion. And I hope this company, as well as other Christian filmmakers, will understand the reasons to attempt other material that could become rated R.

Not to be “edgy.” Not to indulge in violence for violence’s own sake. And not just to try to “get people saved.”

Instead, stories that show evil darkness and death can help us better see Jesus Christ’s light and life.

Just like the Bible does. Just like the testimonies of people who had killed their children, and/or “lived” in spiritual death until Jesus saved them. And just like the best human-made stories that thoughtfully explore evil villainy so we can rejoice when a good hero finally defeats it.

Half a lifetime ago, I would have been nervous about How to Train Your Dragon.¹²

I would have thought: Why does this story attempt to show that “evil” creatures aren’t always evil? Or what we think is good isn’t always good? Why do they show mankind as bad and nature as good? Isn’t this story trying to subvert traditional concepts of right and wrong?

Some stories do attempt this.³

But thanks to Biblical theology, I no longer have that objection to all such stories. That’s because I believe that in the real world, we often find a third party between pure good and worst evil. If our view of the True Story includes only God (good) and man (bad), we’ll be confused when stories explore how this third party—the creation itself—plays in the story.

How to Train Your Dragon: bad humans versus good dragons?

If you go into How to Train Your Dragon or its two sequels, expecting binary categories of right and wrong (man is good/bad, dragons are good/bad), you will be confused.

Is the story’s “bad guys” the humans, such as the Vikings?

An older Hiccup, from How to Train Your Dragon’s 2014 sequel.

That doesn’t make sense. If this series wants to say “humans are bad,” why does this story also want us to love these heroes, especially spunky dragon-trainer Hiccup?

Is the story’s “good guys” the dragons? If so, why does the first film show that wild dragons are genuinely dangerous?

And why would the second film and third films show human villains who manipulate or abuse dragons? As opposed to our heroic Vikings who befriend and train them?

In any case, the first film’s victory comes after estranged father Stoick and son Hiccup both admit their human wrongs and reconcile. Near the end, Hiccup even rides his new dragon Toothless into a spectacular battle against a gargantuan, fire-breathing, traditionally evil dragon.

In the first How to Train Your Dragon film, man and creation must reconcile. By the story’s end, Vikings and dragons have learned to work together and find redemption. Yet man has not simply become “at one with nature,” as if wild nature is superior. Instead man has stopped sinning against nature and become a better nature-steward. The meaning is right there in the title: it’s not “how to be trained by your dragon,” but “how to train your dragon.”

Even in How to Train Your Dragon 2, when we find that a heroine has been living wild with dragons, the story doesn’t leave her there. Without a thought, she is invited to rejoin civilization and take her place in a dragon-training society.

Echoes of groaning Earth

I don’t know the intentions of the How to Train Your Dragon creators. But I do know their subversions of traditional “villains” like evil dragons need not be seen as attacks on biblical morality. In fact, they echo the biblical truth of creation’s redemption:

1. Mankind sins against God (Genesis 3). It’s man’s fault.
2. God curses the ground (Genesis 3: 17–19). But it’s not creation’s fault.
3. Ever since, mankind has had a love/hate relationship with creation.
4. Jesus Christ comes to redeem His children.
5. And someday even “the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Romans 8:21).

Until that day, “the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now” (Romans 8:22). Groaning creation lashes back at mankind. Dragons in ignorance or fear blast our homes and even kill us. But just these stories end in hope—with the fearful dragons now friendly and tamed—so Jesus Christ will make his redeemed world where man’s and creation’s groaning turns to singing.

And in that day, perhaps for real, the dragons will return.

Yesterday I explored how weaker brothers have tended to boss other Christians.¹

Series: Weaker Brothers Shouldn’t Boss Christians

1. Weaker Brothers Shouldn’t Boss Christians about Music, Food, or Fantasy
2. How Weaker Brothers May Begin to Boss Christians about Social Justice Issues
3. Weaker Brothers Shouldn’t Boss Christians about Social Justice Work

In so many words, I said weaker brothers ought not do that. That’s because weaker brothers are, you know, weak. They deserve special love and consideration—not authoritative leadership about the thing they struggle with.

Weaker brother bosses have wielded the most authority in these areas:

• Music. This includes the anti-“rock beat” examples I cited yesterday. Or weaker brothers might insist that certain instruments or music styles be required in/banned from church services.
• Holidays. Weaker brothers can insist they must celebrate versions of original Jewish holidays (as in Romans 14). Or they may insist that Christians not celebrate newer sacred/secular holidays (such as Christmas).
• Food. Weaker brothers may try to enforce Old Testament dietary law (real or imagined). Or, in a less “spiritual” version, they might have legitimate (or perceived) food allergies, and insist all others (1) have similar weaknesses, (2) follow the same prescriptions.
• Popular culture. Weaker brothers may associate evil motives with genres or media devices. They may confuse their own weaknesses or opinions/traditions with biblical “rules” against different kinds of popular culture.

As I said yesterday, I’ve seen less weaker brother bossing about these issues. Maybe I have better friends now. But I’m certain weaker brother bossing still happens. However, I still see plenty of weaker brother bossing around Christian circles. And I want to explore, very carefully, one field in which Christians are doing this all over again.

Weaker brothers are bossing us about social justice issues.

Yes, this is a sensitive area.²

Here, a few specific names and situations do leap to mind. But I’m not thinking mainly of specific individuals. This is more of a ethos, almost an aesthetic, that I think I’ve detected.³

But I think it’s worthwhile to attempt an explanation of what I’m discerning today.

This starts with a very hypothetical story. It presents a possible, typical example of weaker brothers who have grown into social-justice-issues “bosses.”

Birth of a new form of weaker brother boss

Childhood to teen years

1. Our brother is born in an evangelical Christian family.
2. This brother grows up evangelical environments, such as churches and schools.
3. He’s also exposed to a lot of evangelical popular culture, such as Sunday schools, radio dramas, and videos.
4. As a result, this brother learns a particular form of very church– and explicit-missions-centric faith.
5. When our brother learns about the extra-church world, he mainly hears about conservative social and political causes.
6. Our brother hears vaguely about racism, poverty, and other issues. But he perceives his church/family leaders associating these only with anti-Christian and leftist causes.
7. Our brother remains fairly certain the gospel is true, but (vaguely?) wonders what he might be missing.

Teen years to young adulthood

1. In later teen and college years, our brother discovers plenty of educational material that he missed before. (This can include church history, Reformation doctrine, or missional viewpoints of human culture.)
2. Brother gets a spiritual second wind. It may almost feel like a “second blessing.”
3. This time can renew our brother’s faith. He’s not just “riding on his family’s coattails.” He’s wrestling, making the faith his own.
4. Brother may also experience the first of several “cage stages.”⁴ (This term originally referred to a person who accepts Reformed theology and turns obnoxious. People, however, often have cage stages about lots of things.)
5. During this period of questioning, our brother can’t help wondering: How did I miss all this? Why didn’t I learn it earlier?
6. Unfortunately, a sense of irritation, or even blame, may now set in. Our brother begins to question his evangelical forebears, including parents and pastors. Why did these people ignore or even reject these truths for so long?
7. On a doctrinal level, our brother re-evaluates (perceived?) standard evangelical tropes about other ethnic groups, other nations, and people in poverty.
8. On a personal level, our brother begins to feel empathy with marginalized persons. He might have been marginalized in the past, or is being marginalized in the present. Or he perceives either marginalization.

Adulthood: the new boss wields spiritual authority

1. If our brother attends an evangelical college or seminary, he gets legit training about preaching, teaching, and leadership.
2. At such an institution, he gets exposed to many growth opportunities.
3. But he also gets hit with many frustrations with evangelical power structures and/or just plain humans being human.
4. Very possibly, he feels increasing detachment and resentment against older evangelicals. Why didn’t those people get it?
5. Twitter occurs. Our brother can’t help sharing his thoughts aloud. People agree. People disagree. Either way, his thoughts get instant results.
6. The Trump election occurs. Thinkpieces and blameblogs multiply like radioactive rabbits. Our brother sees even more hypocrisy among older evangelicals. They seem to have switched. They no longer say, “A president’s character matters.” Instead they say (at best), “He’s a scumbag, but he’s our scumbag,” or else say (at worst), “He’s God’s chosen leader like David/Cyrus of old.”
7. All along, our brother also inherits (without challenging) some impulses from conservative and seeker-friendly Christianity: Thou shalt do whatever thou must to win souls to Christ Jesus. But whereas previous generations enlarged churches, simplified sermons, and invested in professional bands, such Baby Boomer–attracting strategies now seem as retro as hymnbooks and organs. Where now is the new way to attract seekers and show that Christians aren’t like those dullard hypocrites of old? That’s right—social justice issues (SJI).
8. It all fits: SJI is not doctrinal compromise, but is in fact a plain teaching of Scripture that Christians have missed. If you advocate SJI, you are not like previous politically dominating evangelicals, because this time you’re fighting for people the Church has ignored. And SJI is not just a megachurch trick to attract non-Church to the gospel, because advocating for SJI in fact invites criticism (from within the Church)—right?⁵
9. From here, the brother goes forth. He goes forth on social media. Into life. Into churches.
10. If he’s rising in the leadership ranks, he networks at conferences and evangelical websites.
11. When he speaks on this, he gets pushback. Rudest, nastiest responses rise to the top. These persuade him he’s on the right course.
12. By contrast, the more rational, kinder pushback gets lost in the clamor—or he can’t help but fail to hear it among the louder replies.

Next week, I’ll resume this series. Very carefully, and without name-naming and with plenty of speculation, we’ll explore the hazards of SJI weaker brother “bosses.” Then I’ll attempt some suggestions about how stronger Christians can be sensitive to these weaker brothers.

When I was a child, Christian weaker brothers¹ had authority to boss you about all kinds of things.

By weaker brothers, I mean Christians who, by their own admission, were vulnerable to certain temptations.²

Series: Weaker Brothers Shouldn’t Boss Christians

1. Weaker Brothers Shouldn’t Boss Christians about Music, Food, or Fantasy
2. How Weaker Brothers May Begin to Boss Christians about Social Justice Issues
3. Weaker Brothers Shouldn’t Boss Christians about Social Justice Work

In one case, Christian leaders held up one specific weaker brother boss: a (possibly apocryphal) witch doctor, and/or former African tribal worshiper, who had converted to Christianity. One version of this anecdote was printed in a booklet from a (nastily legalistic) outfit called the “Institute in Basic Life Principles” (IBLP). The booklet’s title: “Ten Scriptural Reasons Why the ‘Rock Beat’ Is Evil in Any Form” (underline in original).

In April 1990, a Christian from Zimbabwe, Africa, arrived for his first visit to the United States. He is a native missionary under the Awana Youth Association. When he turned on a Christian radio station and listened to the music, he was shocked. Here is his report:

“I am very sensitive to the beat in music, because when I was a boy, I played the drums in our village worship rituals. The beat that I played on the drum was to get the demon spirits into the people.

“When I became a Christian, I rejected this kind of beat because I realized how damaging it was.

“When I turned on a Christian radio station in the United States, I was shocked. The same beat that I used to play to call up the evil spirits is in the music I heard on the Christian station.”

— Stephen Maphosah, Zimbabwe, Africa³⁴

It wasn’t long before I realized the absurdity of this story:

Hey. Who put the witch doctor in charge of Christian moral practice?

This goes double if you heard, as I did, that the (apocryphal?) witch doctor was actually a new convert to Christianity:

With all due respect, why should new converts be the boss of Christian moral practice?

Scripture, in fact, specifically warns against letting a new convert become a church overseer. Paul says that if we do that, “he may become puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil.”⁵

But what if the witch doctor wasn’t a new convert? What if the account is true?

Then it still makes little sense for Christians to let him become a music boss:

• By all versions of the account I heard, the witch doctor wasn’t even trying to boss. He only made the observation about the music similarity. And/or a concern that it sounded like rhythms he and his witch-doctor friends used to try to summon spirits. It was someone else who later “weaponized” his words, as if they marked universal concern for all Christians.
• By the account’s own terms, the witch doctor had his own personal history with similar music. In his past, he had used certain sounds or rhythms alongside sinful behavior. In the present, he couldn’t help making the association. His story doesn’t apply to everyone else.
• Even if his story did apply to others, this does not overrule the path that God can redeem pagan practices and things—starting with us.
• The person’s opinions are not the same as revealed Scripture.

But Christians keep letting weaker brothers boss them about things.

Plenty of Christians keep going along with this weird tendency. They keep entrusting “weaker brothers” with unique authority over particular practices. Those relate to music, as we’ve seen. But they also related to things like food and popular culture:

What sorts of foods can we eat or avoid?

Let’s all listen to a person who has terrible food allergies, and/or terrible stories about what happened to her when she consumed a certain thing.

What kinds of fantasy stories can we enjoy or avoid?

Let’s all listen to a person who has a terrible backstory about being drawn into the occult and Satanism.

Are certain types of Christian music acceptable or too worldly?

Let’s all listen to a person who has a terrible backstory about being drawn into the occult and Satanism.

That last one is a particularly bizarre trend. Some Christians, historically, keep deciding to let Satan-worshipers be the best authority on the Devil’s powers and dangers. Sometimes it doesn’t even matter whether the Satan-worshiper has since received the gospel. I have heard Christians cite (apocryphal, anecdotal, or actual) current New Age or pagan teachers as authorities about spiritual warfare.

Shouldn’t we, you know—follow strong Christians instead?

The apostle Paul doesn’t venerate weaker brothers the way some Christians have.

He doesn’t say they’re strong. He says they’re weak. Weak means not strong. It means, “These are the people you should help.” It does not mean, “These are the people who have the inside view, so you should follow whatever standard they must follow.”

In fact, the very truth that Paul speaks openly about weaker brothers means he wants all the church, strong and weak alike, to adopt these categories.

Paul does not want stronger people to meet together and whisper about how legalistic the weaker brothers are. He doesn’t want weaker brothers to gather secretly and whisper about how the others keep compromising with the world. Instead, Paul wants the issues openly discussed. After reading his letters (probably publicly!) to the Roman or Corinthian church, everybody could meet together. They could figure out their strengths and weaknesses.

“Ah yes. I grew up in this particular Athenian cult. I can’t go near market so-and-so without feeling a compulsion to rejoin my old people.”

“Fascinating! I never have that issue. So I suppose if you need anything in that market, I could head out there for you.”

Stronger brothers and sisters have rarely if ever been tempted to sin by particular foods, holidays, popular culture, or more. Or they were once tempted to these sins, but through Scripture study, prayer, and hard holiness work, have achieved victory over those sinful temptations.

Weaker brothers, precisely because they’re weaker, don’t (yet?) have such victory. So they require special care.

By default, Christians should put the stronger believers in positions of authority. Because they’re, you know, stronger.

By default, Christians should not put the weaker brothers in positions of authority. Because they are weaker.

Maybe Christians have made progress in this area. I no longer see a lot of these anecdotes spread about. Whether because of more biblical teaching, or better sharing of information, believers seem more resistant to these weaker brother bosses. At least in the areas of food, holidays, and popular culture. If anything, we’re more vulnerable to acting like we’ve beaten back these gifts’ associated sins, rather than actually achieving this kind of victory, or following stronger Christians who have.

But nowadays, I think there’s one vital area in which weaker brothers are taking over Christian leadership.

Tomorrow, I’ll continue by explaining what area this is. Please pray that I can write with clarity and sensitivity. Because now we really get into thorny territory.

Next month, I’m headed to Fort Worth, Texas, for the Great Homeschool Convention.

Specifically, I’ll help with the Realm Makers Bookstore‘s booth at this big event.

Great Homeschool Convention lasts from Thursday, March 7, through Saturday, March 9, at the Fort Worth Convention Center.

Headlining this event are several big names, including:

• Douglas Gresham, the world’s top Chronicles of Narnia fan, who is also stepson to C. S. Lewis;
• Singer-songwriter/fantasy author Andrew Peterson;
• “Read-Aloud Revival” podcaster Sarah MacKenzie.

The Realm Makers Bookstore showcases the best in Christian-crafted fantasy, sci-fi, and other fantastical novels.

In Fort Worth, the booth will also offer print copies of Lorehaven Magazine.

You can also meet novelist Gillian Bronte Adams, who will sign copies of her Songkeeper Chronicles series. For the magazine, we reviewed book 1, Orphan’s Song, and our reviewer loved it.¹

Look for Realm Makers Bookstore in booth spaces 906–908!

Last week I experienced an painful and random memory: that of a Christian-made children’s radio program called “Ranger Bill.”

It must have been in the early 1990s that I listened to this. Probably on a Christian FM radio station. In or near Ashland, Kentucky. On a Saturday morning when the station was doing its best to provide an Alternative for Saturday morning cartoons.

The year was ~1993, but the program sounded like a radio drama from seventy years earlier.¹

Transcribed from my mental MP3:

(thunder crash)

TIN-CANNED ANNOUNCER:

“Raaaannnn-gerrr Bill!
Warrior of the woodland!”

(secondary thunder crash)

This intro was followed by a secondary announcer. He described how Ranger Bill fulfills his ranger duties. He battles against extreme odds and traveling dangerous trails. Where? In the air. On horseback. Or in a screaming squad car. Each cited feature was accompanied by beneficial sound effects.

And why, you ask, does Ranger Bill do all these feats? All for the satisfaction and pride of a job well done.

(a series of notes is squirted from
the most comical organ imaginable)

I didn’t remember the plots. I only recall over-acting, over-seriousness, and a Comical Old Geezer Character.

If I don’t remember much, then why did I find this memory painful? Because it came with a cynical thought. Something like this:

“Oh, great. Here’s another example of Christians making such painfully cheesy stuff. This old-tyme radio drama didn’t help anyone. It didn’t get anyone Saved. It likely did little to advance the Kingdom of Jesus Christ with artistic, creative excellence.”

I’m glad to report that, almost instantly, my mind turned on itself. I had a better series of thoughts like this:

• Horseradish.
• You have no idea of their budget or creative limits.
• You don’t even know what the original audience would have expected.
• You’re falsely judging other people (presumably Christian sisters and brothers).
• This was a different era. Even a “retro” audio drama may have met its own creative standard.
• Technically, you were barely in the intended audience then. You’re definitely not in the audience now.
• Christians have made many fantastic audio dramas. Years later, they hold up very well. For example, see, Josiah DeGraaf’s retrospective on the long-running series Adventures in Odyssey.
• So stop. Being. So. Silly.

Sure, Christians have done silly things. Some have even done worse things. And it’s okay to point out problems, or even to criticize.

But if we remember these old things, let’s not cringe or act like the Cool Kids will shun us.

As if we’re the stereotypical teenager who’s embarrassed to be seen with her parents at the mall.

As if we’re kids from a 1990s TV commercial, who hawk some breakfast cereal while Parents Just Don’t Get It.

Plot twist: sometimes our cringing cynicism about the Christian cultural Thing is what’s really immature, not the Thing itself.

So even in these little, random-memory ways, let’s show charity to other Christians (including older generations!). Let’s appreciate their attempts as products of their time, and/or our times. Let’s put away childish cynicism, and grow up.

What stories do God’s people accidentally believe about the responsibilities of Christian abuse victims?

Unfortunately, many of these often-unspoken “stories” are based on false assumptions and and false doctrines.

Under false assumptions, we might list, “Sexual/power abuse isn’t a problem in (non-Catholic) churches.”

Under false doctrines, we might list, “Christian abuse victims ought automatically to ‘forgive’ their offenders.”

Either of these wounds Christ’s people and makes Christian abuse victims suffer all over again.

The false assumption is, at best, naive. But when Christian leaders utter that false teaching, they—despite any good intentions—make a mockery of God’s justice.

Even if the offenders have not repented and will not repent.

Even if it means the offenders will go on to abuse others.

And yes, even if it means the church covers up the offense and will not follow civil law.

False ‘forgiveness’

Of course, Christians have spent much blog-ink about the Houston Chronicle series about the latest such rash of abuses, cover-ups, and ignorance. Christian leaders have come forward and (rightfully) indicated their previous naivete, and failures, about this problem. Others talk about the challenges of particular church organizations, or the possible need to share more news about sex offenders who attempt “ministry.”

But when I read the first article, its repetition of the term “forgive” kept leaping out to me.

In all, since 1998, roughly 380 Southern Baptist church leaders and volunteers have faced allegations of sexual misconduct, the newspapers found. That includes those who were convicted, credibly accused and successfully sued, and those who confessed or resigned. More of them worked in Texas than in any other state.¹

They left behind more than 700 victims, many of them shunned by their churches, left to themselves to rebuild their lives. Some were urged to forgive their abusers or to get abortions.²

[Abuse victim David] Pittman won’t soon forgive those who have offered prayers but taken no action. He only recently stopped hating God.³

When [abuse victim Debbie] Vasquez became pregnant, she said, leaders of her church forced her to stand in front of the congregation and ask for forgiveness without saying who had fathered the child.⁴

“Forgiveness is up to you alone,” general counsel Derek Gaubatz wrote in one 2007 email. “It involves a decision by you to forgive the other person of the wrongs done to you, just as Christ has forgiven you.”⁵

Christians must be careful how we define ‘forgiveness.’⁶

Here I must be very careful. I’ll also acknowledge that early feedback to this article included hearty disagreement with this concept. I’ll choose to proceed this way.

When Christian A accuses Christian B of abuse, others often give two responses.

Response One (Vengeance) says, “What an evil person. Never forgive him.” Some Christians may imply that the accused is outside God’s grace, or will go to Hell. (Pagans—or Christians who behave like pagans—do even worse then they gather and say things like, “Let’s ruin the accused person’s career and send him death threats over Twitter.”)

Response Two (Cheap Grace) says, “You need to forgive him immediately. Then you act like the sin never happened. This is because ‘love keeps no record of wrongs,’ and also, ‘Jesus said to forgive anyone seventy times seven.’ To do otherwise denies grace.”

I suggest that both these responses show extreme notions of cheap condemnation or cheap grace. Both responses also fail to capture the complexity of the biblical picture.

This fact also further complicate the picture: Christians often use the word “forgiveness” as a shorthand to describe several biblical concepts. These include the concepts of:

1. Fighting the urge to become bitter or resentful;
2. Fighting the urge to slander and take revenge on the offender;
3. Reflecting that God in his grace has saved us from the chiefmost offense of prideful idolatry against him;
4. Overlooking the offense of a brother, which means someone (perhaps a family member) in otherwise good relationship with us, who has a besetting sin that he’s already fighting
5. Leaving the offense to God (Romans 12:19) and trusting him to avenge the wrong.

Here is a hard yet biblical saying: If victims of sinful abuse don’t want anything to do with these biblical ideas, then they’re in the wrong. They must consider “forgiving” this abuse, and healing to a point of wanting to offer this forgiveness. There is no room for the Christian to harbor resentment and choose the way of vengeance, either against an abusive nonbeliever or a believer who falls into abusiveness.⁷

Therefore, insisting “I’ll never forgive him” is not an option for the Christian. People who have stated this may fall to the Dark Side very quickly. According to Jesus, they imperil their own claim to live in light of God’s forgiveness of them (Matt. 6: 14–15).

Real forgiveness requires repentance—as God requires from us.

Recommended in case you have ever needed to ask or give forgiveness.

However, I do not believe that Christians should use the word “forgiveness” to refer to this biblical choice of rejecting vengeance and only wanting to forgive offenders. I don’t say this only because the word “forgive” has been used so often, along with “… and forget,” to silence victims and make them feel terrible for being wounded. I say this because biblically, the word forgiveness describes, as Chris Brauns says:

a commitment by the offended to pardon graciously the repentant from moral liability and to be reconciled to that person, although not all consequences are necessarily eliminated.⁸

Among Christians, this real forgiveness is always a mutual arrangement between offender and victim. And it will always leads to actual reconciliation, if not in the present day, then in the future after Jesus returns to make all things new.

Scripture, however, never calls us to “forgive” a person who has not repented.

This does not contradict Christ’s insistence that we forgive our brothers “seventy-seven times,” that is, offering unlimited forgiveness. (Most recall Christ’s words from Matt. 18: 21–22, but see the parallel text in Luke 17: 3–4, in which it’s clear Jesus is talking about situations in which the offending brother is first offering repentance.)

Nor does this contradict the Bible’s assurance—which many Christians believe—that any Christian is eternally secure. God’s word assures us that “no one can snatch” someone out of Christ’s hand (John 10: 28–29). Yes, that’s true, and yet we cannot ignore biblical warnings such as “No one born of God makes a practice of sinning” (1 John 3: 8–9). The Bible also teaches that real faith will inevitably show the fruit of good works (Eph. 2: 8–10), and that people who have “tasted the heavenly gift” can fall away (Hebrews 6: 4–8). Such warnings are part of the way God corrects and preserves his people, and cheap grace would get in the way of that.

In fact, this is affirmed by the very biblical teaching that God himself does not forgive people who do not repent. Hell is not full of forgiven people who simply refused to repent after God forgave them. (The very fact that Jesus said the Father will not forgive people who don’t forgive [Matt. 6: 14–15] shows that God does not forgive everyone—and that no Christian is outside God’s warnings about holiness.)

This is also affirmed by biblical teachings that reflect human frustration with power-abusers who get away with it. See the imprecatory Psalms, or Revelation 6:10:

They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?”⁹

We can’t forgive unrepentant abusers; instead, we ‘leave it to the wrath of God.’

Yes, Scripture calls on us to be willing to forgive and to love our enemies. But loving enemies does not mean we gloss over their pattern of offenses against others, or even ourselves. By God’s standards (and often by the civil-law standards of our own regions, which I haven’t even touched on in this piece) we must confront the behavior. And if the person does not repent, we cannot (yet) properly forgive him.

Every time I contend for this view, someone presumes I’m automatically excusing grudges or bitterness, or justifying the person who abuses this truth to withhold a willingness to forgive an enemy. Not so. I’m simply saying we ought to use words properly, as God does.

And God has given us a great phrase to use for what we mean by “letting go of the offense.”

Instead of the word forgiveness (which, again, means an exchange between two willing parties), Paul says leave it. But finish the apostle Paul’s sentence: “Leave it to the wrath of God” (Romans 12:19). He does not say this is merely a feeling, or even a personal choice. He says this is based on the entirely practical truth that we trust God as the avenger. If your enemy is a Christian who refused to repent, God will discipline him. If your enemy turns out to have been a fake Christian, God will avenge the wrong and punish this enemy for eternity.

“Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord” (Romans 12:19, KJV).

If I’ve been abused, I ought to want to forgive the abuser as soon as possible. But this is not simply a case of offense between brothers, spouses, or church members. Instead, this is a case of egregious sin, when one professing Christian for years has shown a pattern of acting more like the devil than like a true follower of Jesus.

At the very least, such a person needs to demonstrate true willingness to repent, which will require facing consequences (including potential loss of leadership positions and careers).¹⁰ The rewards, however, will be great indeed. He will have received real forgiveness (all the better if it’s nearly instant) from the persons he has wronged. That pattern of sin will no longer interfere with his relationship with God and claim to faith.

In any case, victims of abuse, and those who love them, must cling to the gospel, in which Jesus forgives people who repent. Don’t let people imply you must be more spiritual than God. But pray hard and train hard so you can forgive the offender as soon as possible. Meanwhile, try to leave it—the offense—to God, and find healing not through fake “forgiveness” but because you know the chief Avenger.

Recently a newbie political leader’s words reminded me of C. S. Lewis’s most famous wicked magicians.

I’ll try to stay apolitical here. Going forward, we can presume the usual disclaimers. Such as, “leaders on every side do this.” And, “Although this is one example, at least she’s being honest. Other leaders think exactly like this, but deceptively keep this ‘standard’ to themselves.”

Which wicked choice is least terrible? Brazenly promote hypocrisy? Or pretend to be consistent and at least reinforce that social standard?

Here’s the quote:

I think that there’s a lot of people more concerned about being precisely, factually and semantically correct then about being morally right. ¹

When I heard this again,² of the left, openly embraced. And in this case, openly advocated by the single most celebrated, newly elected member of the government who is representing that Democratic Left.] I immediately thought of Lewis’s sixth Narnia chronicle, the prequel The Magician’s Nephew. In this story, a villain remarks:

“How should you understand reasons of State? You must learn, child, that what would be wrong for you or for any of the common people is not wrong in a great Queen such as I. The weight of the world is on our shoulders. We must be freed from all rules. Ours is a high and lonely destiny.”³

Of course, these are the words of Jadis. Later she’s known more popularly as the White Witch. But here this tyrant explains why she had the right to learn a dark spell and destroy her whole world, including all its people.

But I actually would not compare today’s flippant political figures with Jadis.

Not to be too nasty, but such comparisons give the political figures too much credit.

Uncle Andrew’s peddling magic

Instead I would compare some of these leaders with another Magician’s Nephew villain: young hero Digory Kirke’s meddling magician uncle, Andrew. Three chapters earlier, he utters much the same excuse as Jadis:

“Men like me, who possess hidden wisdom, are freed from common rules just as we are cut off from common pleasures. Ours, my boy, is a high and lonely destiny.”⁴

What’s the difference between them?

Jadis, ancient queen of a land she destroyed, is a dark and spiritual threat. Her influence is more Satanic than human. Indeed, as we learn in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, she herself hasn’t got any human blood in her. She also is completely serious. Jadis moves with a weight befitting her corrupted royalty. Hers is same kind of dark-matter, spiritual weight that, as G. K. Chesterton said, compelled Satan to fall “through force of gravity.”⁵

Uncle Andrew, however, is still somewhat human. At first, Lewis as narrator compared his arrival “like a stage-play demon coming out of a trap door.” Andrew does remain a heavy threat through the first few chapters. But when Jadis is magicked into London, Andrew suddenly appears “like a shrimp” compared with her. She grabs him, stares into his face searching for a spiritual “mark,” and declares:

“I see . . . you are a Magician—of a sort. . . .

“How did you come to know Magic? You are not of royal blood, I’ll swear. . . .

“Peace. . . . I see what you are. You are a little, peddling Magician who works by rules and books. There is no real Magic in your blood and heart.”⁶

Later, Lewis doesn’t keep narrative distance from Andrew as he does with Jadis. Instead, we go into a closet with Andrew. There he drinks from his stashed-away bottle of brandy and stupidly persuades himself that this evil queen from another world actually fancies him. As Jadis rampages in London and Andrew’s foolishness is further exposed, he becomes not as much an evil figure as a stupid and tragic one.

Andrew’s folly compounds as we follow him. Even in “the land of youth”—the newly created realm of Narnia—the “little, peddling Magician” ignores the good magic all around him. (It’s magic from Narnia’s creator, Aslan, that Jadis understands and hates.) Eventually, he ends up surrounded by talking beasts—whom he’s convinced aren’t talking. For their part, they can’t decide if he’s plant or animal. In their view, he certainly can’t be a human. Finally they become convinced he’s an animal. With good intentions, they stow him within a rudimentary cage and pelt him with all their favorite foods.

Having behaved inhumanly, Andrew is (temporarily) stripped of his humanity. (He’s very similar to Nebuchadnezzar in Daniel 4.)

Uncle Andrew’s materialist magic

Elsewhere I’ve argued that in fact, Andrew likely represents the “materialist magician.” Lewis referred to this type of person in The Screwtape Letters. In the demon Screwtape’s words, the “materialist magician” blends the best of both wicked worlds. He combines the barren atheism of materialism and the mystical corruption of magician.

Don’t these two false religions conflict? Not for the materialist magician. He or she dabbles in both corruptions at once, “not using, but veritably worshipping what he vaguely calls ‘Forces’ while denying the existence of ‘spirits’ . . .”⁷

Still, the story doesn’t leave Uncle Andrew in his pathetic state. His nephew Digory and Digory’s friend, Polly, both show him pity. So does Aslan, who gives Andrew, “this old sinner,” the only gift left to him: sleep, with its temporary separation “from all the torments you have devised for yourself.”⁸

Uncle Andrew’s redemption from magic

I put most foolish political leaders, with their self-made hypocrisies in this category. They’re not often so much like Jadis. Often they’re more like Uncle Andrew. They are “little, peddling Magicians.” They dabble in strange notions and insipid, feelings-based “morality.” Sometimes they do this just because they can. Other times they’re chasing that power rush and image of greatness, which leads them not into flourishing humanity, but into the irrationality and impulses of non-talking beasts.

Thank God, this does not leave the meddling magician without hope.

By The Magician’s Nephew’s finale, Uncle Andrew has not quite been redeemed. But he has at least been re-humanized:

Uncle Andrew never tried magic again as long as he lived. He had learned his lesson, and in his old age he became a nicer and less selfish old man than he had ever been before.⁹

For my part, I’m happy with this quasi-redemption of the old sinner. But does that mean we need not react to such persons as a serious threat? Not at all. After all, it required supernatural intervention—from a perfectly wise Savior-figure—to make Uncle Andrew “learn his lesson.” Even then, as Aslan says, “evil will come from that evil.”¹⁰ Even a foolish, meddling magician, in his or her idiocy, can bring a Satanic tyrant into our world.

Pretty much all of C. S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters is ridiculously quotable.

Yet these Screwtape Letters quotes uniquely apply to Christians who want to do good works in the world.

As usual, with long-paragraph book quotes, I’ve occasionally added extra paragraph breaks.

Do what you will, there is going to be some benevolence, as well as some malice, in your patient’s soul. The great thing is to direct the malice to his immediate neighbours whom he meets every day and to thrust his benevolence out to the remote circumference, to people he does not know. The malice thus becomes wholly real and the benevolence largely imaginary.

The Enemy [God] loves platitudes. Of a proposed course of action He wants men, so far as I can see, to ask very simple questions; is it righteous? is it prudent? is it possible?

Now if we can keep men asking ‘Is it in accordance with the general movement of our time? Is it progressive or reactionary? Is this the way that History is going?’ they will neglect the relevant questions. . . .

As a result, while their minds are buzzing in this vacuum, we have the better chance to slip in and bend them to the action we have decided on.

We direct the fashionable outcry of each generation against those vices of which it is in the least danger, and fix its approval on the virtue that is nearest the vice which we are trying to make endemic.

The game is to have them all running around with fire extinguishers whenever there’s a flood; and all crowding to that side of the boat which is already gunwale under.

If I find more Screwtape Letters quotes about Christian social action, I’ll add them.