Steve's Letter: "Truth...once you see it, you're stuck!"

For recent interviews, I'm reading a book by my friend, Tim Keller, The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism, and another book by Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck, Why We're not Emergent (By Two Guys Who Should Be).

(You can hear both interviews at www.stevebrownetc.com.)

Keller writes: "Whether you consider yourself a believer or a skeptic, I invite you to seek the same kind of honesty and to grow in an understanding of the nature of your own doubts. The result will exceed anything you can imagine."

He then proceeds to present a vibrant, thoughtful and clear presentation of orthodox Biblical Christianity, giving real answers to real questions.

In the introduction to the Emergent book, the authors write:

"If you listen to U2, Moby, and Johnny Cash's Hurt (sometimes in church), use sermon illustrations from The Sopranos, drink lattes in the afternoon and Guinness in the evenings, and always use a Mac;...if your idea of quintessential Christian discipleship is Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, or Desmond Tutu; if you don't like George W. Bush or institutions or big business or capitalism or Left Behind Christianity;...if you love the Bible as a beautiful, inspiring collection of works that lead us into the mystery of God but is not inerrant; if you search for truth but aren't sure it can be found; if you've ever been to a church with prayer labyrinths, candles, Play-Doh, chalk-drawings, couches, or beanbags (your youth group doesn't count); if you loathe words like linear, propositional, rational, machine, and hierarchy and use words like ancient-future, jazz, mosaic, matrix, missional, vintage, and dance;...then you might be an emergent Christian."

Then after that rather funny introduction, DeYoung and Kluck spend a lot of time on the eternal truths of the Christian faith and why they can't be compromised.

Both of those books have served to remind me of something important...something one tends to forget if you're as religious as I am, debate as many people as I do, answer as many questions as I do and deal with as much criticism as I do.

What's that?

Truth. That's what.

I've often asked Christians how their lives would be different if they woke up tomorrow morning and found out that all they believed about God, the Bible and their faith was not true. People look at me as if I've lost my mind.

But it's a good question.

I, of course, would be out of a job if I told people what I had discovered.

But maybe I would just keep quiet. Who would know? I could pretend that it was still true, still pray the public prayers and preach the sermons. I could maintain Key Life and write these letters. I could still teach at the seminary if I didn't tell the students about my discovery. I could still go to church and support what's happening at the church. As long as I was really careful, I could keep on writing religious books and doing religious broadcasts.

If I found out that none of this was true, I could still fake it until I died. Then it wouldn't matter.

But, frankly, why would I?

C.S. Lewis, in referring to Freud's spurious comment that we made up God because we needed a father figure, said that Freud's assertion was crazy. Freud said a lot of crazy things, but that one topped the list.

Freud reminds me of the character in the movie Network played by Peter Finch who went crazy on national television. They planned to fire him, but the ratings went through the roof, so they kept him on. Everybody suspected that Freud was crazy too; but, since a lot of people listened to him, they decided to let him keep talking.

But I digress.

Lewis said if he was going to make up a God that God would be a whole lot different than the one of the Bible. He would be nicer, more accommodating and a whole lot less scary.

So, if I found out that my Christian faith wasn't true, I wouldn't try to fake it. That would make me crazier than Freud. After all, I would have a whole lot more time to do what I wanted and to pursue my own interests. Things like forgiveness, meaning, thankfulness, values and eternal life would be irrelevant, and I would spend very little time dealing with irrelevant things.

Camus (the French existentialist and atheist) said that the only question with which a thinking person should deal in a meaningless world is suicide. I'm "tired of living and afraid of dying," so my suicide would be slower and more fun than the kind Camus favored. Maybe I would develop a taste for booze. If I discovered that the things I've always believed weren't true, "transcendence in a bottle" would be far more attractive to me than it is now. Without God, I could handle life a lot better drunk.

But I have a problem. It's true.

This letter isn't a defense of the verities of the Christian faith. You can do your own homework. Or, if you prefer, trust me because I have so often wished that the Christian faith wasn't true and so often tried to make it "not" true. I've read all the books you don't have time to read, checked all the alternatives, and spent my life going down the dead end roads of unbelief.

Sometimes I still look for an "out"; but, every time I look for one, I'm "whacked upside the head" with truth. Truth is...well...uh...true. You can't change it, get rid of it, ignore it or pretend it's not true. It just is...and once you see it, you're stuck.

I'm stuck.

But that sounds so negative.

One of the most interesting interviews we've done was with A. J. Jacobs. He wrote a book, The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible.

Jacobs is Jewish and a "respectful unbeliever" (his words) who did his best to be "religious" for a year and to do it in the deepest and most profound way. Because he is Jewish, for the most part (in addition to some Rabbis, with advice from Protestant ministers and Roman Catholic priests), he tried to live as an orthodox Jew.

During the interview, it became quite apparent that Jacobs deeply loves his family. When he talked about his children, he talked about how they were such a gift to him and how much he wanted them to grow up to be "good" adults.

I asked him in the interview about his family. "When you look at your children and you are overwhelmed with gratefulness for them, who do you thank?"

There was a long silence and he said, "Steve, I've thought about that a lot. And, while I'm still not a believer, I've found myself offering prayers of thanksgiving even if it doesn't make sense."

Talk about a disconnect!

Who are you going to thank?

Who is going to forgive you?

Who is going to love you?

Who is going to give you a reason to live?

Who is going to meet you when it's your time to die?

This morning, as I write this, I've been overwhelmed with the absolute truth of the Christian faith. I've remembered that my faith isn't surmise, wishful thinking or a subject for debate. It's just true!

When I've prayed, he has come...

I'm here. You're forgiven, loved and called, and that's a forever kind of thing.

He told me to remind you to rest in it and rejoice because of it!

In His Grip,