Many times, “wrongful death” is at the root cause of a lawsuit, but what happens in the case of a “wrongful birth” charge?

In West Palm Beach, Florida, a couple sued a doctor and an ultrasound technician for negligence. The two claimed that they would have aborted their son, who was born with no arms and only one leg, had they known about his disabilities beforehand.

There’s not much more commentary that can be given on a judicial system that will award such a vast sum of money because a life was born (rather than murdered through abortion), and yet will let a man live who raped and murdered his 10-month-old stepdaughter. Imagine how you would feel if you were the child when you were old enough to comprehend that your parents preferred you to be killed, and they have a 4.5 million dollar check highlighting the intensity of that desire. Unbelievable.

I suppose I shouldn’t expect any different. I mean, presuming that the Bible is true, I should expect that the majority of this country’s citizens would be quick to shed blood, would desire to trade that which is natural for that which is unnatural (or at least support it), and would desire that justice not be done. And considering that we have been murdering millions of infants for decades, are infatuated with homosexuality, and are ignoring the blood of a 10-month-old child crying out from the ground, well, I say that we’ve pretty much arrived.

Because of these things, among many others, I’m not proud to be an American. In fact, I’m disgusted. And if I do, for some reason, find myself being proud to be an American, I loathe it. For I know that when all is said and done, America will be a small, rank spot of piss and blood on the fabric of history.

In fact, one of the big no-nos in the religion of the South is buying alcohol, especially in a place where you can be seen buying alcohol. Which reminds me of a joke: What’s the difference between a Baptist and a Presbyterian? A Presbyterian will say hey to you in the liquor store.

Joking aside, there is a serious reality underlying the brown-bagging / teetotaling disposition toward Christian practice in the religion of the South, and it all falls under the umbrella of “Preserving One’s Witness.” Scarcely have many bothered to define what this “witness” is, though it’s preservation could mean the salvation (or not) of one’s very soul.

It goes like this: Matt walks into the local Food Lion. Matt makes a beeline toward the beer aisle. Matt goes to the counter and purchases beer from the beer aisle. Unbeknownst to Matt, a person, who is considering Christianity and knows that Matt is a Christian, sees Matt purchasing the beer and is instantly turned away from the Gospel because of it. Matt, because of his beer purchase, ruins his witness and sends the person to hell.

The problem with this scenario is multi-faceted. First, Matt’s witness, as a Christian, is never toward himself. When a person bears witness to something, say in a court of law, it is concerning something that happened or concerning some reality with which the witness is well-acquainted. Having been saved by Jesus Christ, Matt’s witness should be solely about what Jesus Christ has done to save him from his sins, not about what Matt does or does not do. When we see the apostles bearing witness about Christ in the book of Acts, they do not go about flaunting their religiosity and piety, but they go about flaunting Jesus Christ–the one who died for sinners, who was raised from the dead, and who is now sitting enthroned as King over all. That is the weight of a Christian’s witness, not his ability not to buy a beer in front of sinners.

Secondly, this scenario misrepresents Jesus Christ and the Christian religion. Jesus Christ did not come into the world to keep people like Matt from drinking beer or to teach them how to conceal it. No, Jesus came, as the angel declares at his birth, to save his people from their sins. In fact, if Jesus’ mission were to keep Matt from buying and drinking beer, he started off poorly with his first miracle, viz. turning the water into wine (not grape juice). And if Matt is ruining his witness by buying beer at the local Food Lion, it is reasonable to conclude that Jesus ruined his witness at the Wedding at Cana. And maybe Jesus did ruin his witness … toward the Pharisees at least. Of them Jesus says:

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look at him! A glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is justified by her deeds” (Mt. 11:19).

The fact is that Jesus’ tendency to drink alcohol publicly (which he did) created a barrier between himself and some, and the some that were offended by his drinking were those who already had everything worked out, religiously speaking. They were the ones who thought themselves right with God, and even went above and beyond what God commanded so as to make sure that they were hyper-right. In their blind dedication to Moses, they missed the greatest command of Moses, namely, “The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your brothers–it is to him you shall listen” (Deut. 18:15). That “drunkard” whom they questioned and ridiculed was the prophet that they should have been waiting for, instead they were so blinded by their amended law and self-righteousness that they missed him altogether.

The lesson of the Pharisees should strike fear into those among us who seek to “witness” by bolstering our self-righteousness to a law that God did not give. Search and you shan’t find a law that says, “Thou shalt not drink nor purchase alcohol in the presence of thine enemies.” That is good ol’ timey Pharisaical religion, and believe me, it didn’t begin in the South. It has existed as long as men have tried to work and commend themselves to God by their good deeds, and it has only worked for one Man–Jesus Christ, who just so happened to drink alcohol. The Pharisees did it by their fasting, their alcohol-abstinence, and their perfect tithing; the Judaizers after them did it through circumcision–all to whom the apostle Paul screams, “Christ is no advantage to you!” (Gal. 5:2).

Third, and closely related to the second, such a “witness” detracts from the true Witness that we should presenting–Jesus Christ and him alone. Jesus did not come into the world to keep Matt from drinking beer, though he can save an alcoholic from his sins and his obsession. Jesus Christ came into the world to glorify his Father, and he accomplished it perfectly and completely. He glorified his Father when he turned the water to wine, when he fed the five thousand, when he died for the sins of his people, and when he was raised from the tomb. Every breath Jesus Christ breathed was unto the glory of the Father, as was every drink he drunk and every morsel he ate. To say or to even hint that Jesus acted unwisely in anything that he did, whether it was working on the Sabbath or drinking an alcoholic beverage is not simply unwise, it’s blasphemy. And to lay burden on his followers that Christ did not place upon them by calling certain behaviors “unwise” is tantamount to saying the same of Christ.

As followers of Christ and students of his Word, we must remain open to understanding him and his Word and be willing to change our traditions and presuppositions for his sake and ours. We must not be like the Pharisees who religiously and blindly followed after the traditions of their elders so as to miss Jesus Christ in his glory and thus found themselves his enemies and damned. In other words, “Life is short. Drink to the glory of God.”

And I believe that it is good and right to feel a certain sort of disgust and outrage when such persons say such things. Often when they do, they skew the truth, promote falsehoods, and lead others astray in the process. But as with all areas of life, I think that the motivations behind our disgust, outrage, etc. must be tested to show whether or not they are right in and of themselves and promote the truth. For though one reacts to the negative act of one, that reaction is not necessarily positive. In fact, it is probably more often the case that the negative acts of a person inspire and produce negative acts in another.

So then, what are appropriate motivations that inspire such hostile feelings in response to the blatherings of our modern village idiots? A few of these might include a desire to see the truth rightly taught and proclaimed, a desire to dissuade confusion in the church, and others like it.

What then are some inappropriate motivations? Perhaps the chief of these is our concern of being associated with such persons by those who are not in the church. Friends, coworkers, etc. who know that we are Christians see these persons who also claim to be Christians and therefore lump us (or so we think) into the same category as them. If this a motivation of our disgust, etc., then it is likely driven by our pride more than it is by our aspirations to sanctify the truth. And, truth be told, if this is our motivation, there are dozens of more true and orthodox doctrines that the world views as loonier than those of the date setters and the judgment declarers.

Another is the belief that these puny, nutty men can thwart the purposes of God. This is a negative motivation because it is simply untrue. Much is said about our witness to the world, but somehow, between the time the apostles penned the New Testament and now, our “witness” became not about Jesus Christ and his work but it became about the façade that we put up in front of the world. In other words, the church has adopted the witnessing practices of the Pharisees. If our appearance to the world was really supposed to be such a concern, I doubt that the Apostle Paul would have written publicly to the Corinthian church about their incestuous relationship problem or to the Galatian church about how easily they turned away to a false religion of works. The church has always been a messy thing, and she will remain so until Christ actually returns.

When people such as Harold Camping go about sharing their “prophecies” on billboards, one of two things happen to those outside the church who see them: either they are hardened in their unbelief, or they are not. And it is the Spirit of God who controls this reaction, not the supposed free will of person viewing it. As the apostle Paul writes:

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things? For we are not, like so many, peddlers of God’s word, but as men of sincerity, as commissioned by God, in the sight of God we speak in Christ (2Cor. 2:14-17)

In other words, it is not the sanity or reasonableness of our Gospel that saves, but it is the Spirit who saves. And being that this is the same Spirit who raised Christ Jesus from the dead, you’d best believe that he can overcome Harold Camping to call one of his own.

But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed (2Pet. 3:10).

This passage seems to suggest, contrary to the hoopla surrounding Camping’s prediction, that the Day of the Lord (i.e. Judgment and the End) will come like a “thief in the night.” Through an intensive investigation of the practices of past nocturnal bandits, it has been determined that the typical night thief does not announce his intentions prior to his thievery, neither does he give clues encrypted in apocryphal literature. No, he simply comes unannounced and thus unexpectedly.

Through interviews with some of these thieves, it has come to light that these thieves operate in such a manner so as to take their victims by surprise. They report that by doing so, they are able to plunder more possessions and do so more safely than they would if they were to announce their arrival beforehand.

One rebel thief, known for his unconventional thievery, decided to notify one of his victims prior to his planned invasion by the leaving the victim a voicemail. After his attempt and a bullet wound in his left shoulder, the thief concluded that the traditional element of surprise is not something to be taken for granted.

Taking these facts and coupling them with the analogy from Peter’s letter, we must conclude and report that May 21, 2011—smothered with its coverage by the press, billboards, websites, and stickers on motorvehicles—is not the day of the Rapture and Judgment.

In other news, the weather forecast for Raleigh on Sunday, May 22 is sunny with a high of 88.

These are some of the questions I have been asking myself for years regarding the “Baptist” title. Baptist is one of those names that has become so broad and has developed so many connotations that it is hardly helpful as a name any more. Generally, the Baptist name encompasses almost anyone who professes Christ who does not hold to infant baptism. Apart from that, one can be Calvinistic or Arminian in his soteriology, covenantal, dispensational, etc., in his view of the New Covenant, charismatic or cessationist with regard to the gifts of the Spirit, congregational or elder-ruled with regard to ecclesiology, etc., etc., etc. In other words, the only thing that holds Baptists together is the dryness of their infants.

And that is really important to some Baptists. Some Baptists even put Believer’s Baptism up there with the Trinity and the deity of Christ. But that’s not me. For me, Believer’s baptism is important. It possibly shows one’s view of the Old and New Covenants, it shows his interpretations of certain texts, etc. Even so, it is not a doctrine of the first order to me. It’s not even a doctrine of the second order. So then, why do I continue to identify myself by a label that is not a first or second order doctrine to me? Good question.

Additionally, and probably more significantly, is the association that the Baptist name brings. Without naming names, there are persons who label themselves Baptists with whom I would never sit and eat. Conversely, there are those who don’t label themselves Baptists with whom I would gladly (and do) sit and eat. So why categorize myself with those who I believe are apostate and distance myself from those who I believe are my brothers?

But then there comes the problem of what to call myself. Having no name is not an option. I suppose I could join a church of a different denomination and use that title, but then that doesn’t really address the issue. In fact, it places me in the exact same position I am now, except with different positive and negative associations and different doctrinal differences.

Going back to the question of doctrines and their order of significance, what doctrine or name best identifies the religion of those who follow Jesus Christ? Jesus Christ, of course. Therefore, until I find sufficient reason to be otherwise, I’ll call myself a Christian*. And if anyone wishes for me to elaborate, I gladly will.

Emir, Emir, Emir…

Take that, Acts 29! You just got Canered! Actually, with all the controversy, lies, deceit, and downright obnoxiousness surrounding the Caner brothers, being the object of their slander is actually a compliment and a validation that one’s heading in the right direction.

But seriously, did Emir really think that he could chirp this out on Twitter and not get a kick back? I don’t know if it’s something in Caner genes, but, for some reason, these guys think that they can get away with anything.

Worse than that, (just to throw something crazy out there) what if Acts 29 is a work of the Spirit of God? Then Emir just committed the unpardonable sin by associating a work of the Holy Spirit with a work of the Adversary (cf. Mk. 3:22-30).

Moral of the Story: Think before you tweet, and think thrice if your name is Caner.

Enough of Hawking, but this view seems to be the view of the majority of astrophysicists apart from him. I enjoy watching the History Channel’s show, “The Universe,” but sometimes I just get disgusted by the presumption that holds the whole “science” together. These men and women talk with such certainly about cosmic events that happened millions and billions of years ago as though they found the journal of someone or something that live at that time. Amazing how there is such certainly about unrecorded history and so much skepticism about recorded history two-thousand years ago, but I digress.

All that’s fine and dandy. I can get past the “millions and billions” of years garbage. I can even get past the whole evolution nonsense (even though it’s complete lunacy). But the one thing I cannot get past is how these scientists are willing to base all of their theories (they are theories not fact—something that they usually fail to mention) on a principle that contradicts one of the fundamental laws on which they base all of their science.

The First Law of Thermodynamics states that matter and energy can neither be created nor destroyed. In other words, if matter exists, it will exist forever, and energy is never depleted, it is simply transferred. All that’s just gravy until these scientists try to explain the beginning of the Universe. When you speak of beginnings, they all go back to the Big Bang, or to that one infinitely dense ball of singularity that one day just decided to explode and create the Universe. However, when you want to talk pre-Big Bang, i.e. how the heck did that matter and energy get there in the first place, all of a sudden they all raise their hands yelling, “We’re not philosophers!”

BS. They’re nothing but philosophers the rest of the time. Stephen Hawking, Richard Dawkins, and Christopher Hitchens can’t shut up with their philosophy. Yet at the point where their whole system is weakest (and arguably ridiculous) they either run about with their fingers in their ears screaming like a schoolgirl, or they’ll modestly answer, “We just don’t know, but we do know it’s not God.”

That, my friends, is Romans-1-itis: “For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking and their foolish hearts were darkened; claiming to be wise, they became fools” (Rm. 1:21,22). Symptoms include knowing everything, despising the unseen, ridiculing those who disagree with you without cause, hatred of God (even though one claims not to believe in him), and living life however one wants to without fear of final retribution. And one needs not be an astrophysicist to contract it.

From all the confusion, there is a total absence of consensus on how to deal with homosexual marriage, abortion, etc., spanning from the liberal “churches” and their “come as you are and stay that way forever” message to the super-political, super-conservative, Rush Limbaugh-listening churches who cry themselves to sleep over prayer being taken out of public schools and the thought of a Pledge without “under God” scribbled in for added religiosity. And then there’s everyone else.

The problem that faces all of these groups, whether they’re actually the church or not, is that they all are, unbeknownst to them, suffering from a severe identity crisis. They’re trying to be at least two people at once, and they can’t help but want to be. The liberals want to be socially tolerant Americans and wear the mask of religion, and the conservatives want to be full-blooded A-mur-icans and line up with Jesus. The problem (and maybe the source of the confusion) is that none of these groups realize that the government and the church are two separate and irreconcilable entities. When it comes to conservatism, being a good Christian is being a good American, and vice versa. And no one has the heart to tell the confused masses that Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world.”

The solution to the confusion (methinks) is to choose sides: either be a patriot or be in Christ—one must be the chief and overbearing identity. Someone once said that a servant cannot serve two masters, and that’s true in all spheres, not just in God and money. If you choose America, go ahead with anti-gay marriage campaigns and the like, just don’t speak the name of Jesus. If you choose Christ, concentrate on making his church holy, not America. Begin with yourself and make yourself holy. Then move onto your local church and make her holy. Then focus on the church in geographic regions and then the church in America. Once the church in America is holy, then perhaps we might consider polishing the turd that is the American government.

And why? Because he’s a dead beat. He is able to stand for hours at a time unashamedly holding a sign that says “hungry” just a couple of miles away from a place that’ll feed him better food than I’ll eat in a day. All he wants is your money (for only God knows what), and he doesn’t want to work for it. And yet for some reason we as Christians feel compelled (or are told we ought to feel compelled) to assist people like this man because they supposedly fall under the “Least of These” category.

Ignoring for right now the fact that Christ created a “Least of These, My Brothers” category not a “Least of These” category, what brings us to the conclusion that this man who has stood in the same place for years falls into this category? If we were to look at those to whom Christ ministered, do we see Christ “ministering” to men like this man? We see Christ healing lepers, blind men, lame men, demon-possessed men, etc.—all men who had a need or disability that rendered them socially inept. In other words, these men were beggars and outcasts because they had no choice. And immediately after each were cured of their inability, they were expected to reenter society as everyone else. To the paralytic, he did not merely say, “Walk,” but “Take up your bed, and walk” (Mark 2:9).

I think we would find ourselves a bit angry if were to have an account of Christ healing a man of his infirmity and then were later to find that healed man back at the gate of temple begging for alms. I doubt Christ would have little compassion on such an able-bodied man, for as he says to those in the parable, “Why do you stand here idle all day?” (Mt. 20:6). Even Paul writes, “If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat” (2Thes. 3:10). And that’s New Testament.

Should we will feel compelled to preach the Gospel to such idle men? Of course, but why should we feel compelled to preach the Gospel to them more than we do to others? Are they greater sinners or closer to believing than others who actually do work? Should we feel compelled to give five bucks to every man who stands in perfect health on a street corner? You can have your personal convictions, but I sure don’t, especially when I and my wife work and sometimes barely get food on the table for ourselves. And I surely won’t feel more convicted to give a handout to a man outside the church who is able to work and doesn’t than I will to give to those who are in the church who are in desperate need and cannot help it.