Unpop Culture

I’m not quite sure what it was that teed me off initially. Our Sunday morning started innocently enough: we woke up and began the process of getting ready for church—something that involves more gymnastics these days, now that we have a newborn daughter. (I’ve never had to deal with projectile poop before.) I was finishing changing my daughter’s diaper when she spat up, ruining the outfit I had just wrestled her back into. Seeds of impatience sprouted out of my mouth: “Your timing sucks,” I told my uncomprehending daughter. After switching out her clothes, I brought her out of the room, only to encounter our cat in front of me, seemingly determined to get tangled up in my legs as I walked. Juggling a baby and dribbling a cat aren’t activities you want to combine. “You’re really stupid, you know that?” I barked at the cat. (Huh. Pun not intended.) In response, my wife Shannon put out her arms and asked for the baby, advising me to take my shower so I could be alone for a while...

Have you ever sought to defend a cause only to end up proving something you didn’t mean to—like attempting to prove the existence of God only to find yourself backed into a corner? It’s a humbling, and evening a frightening, experience. Since I don’t think quickly on my feet, I have argued myself into a corner on more than one occasion. One such occasion (or a period of time, rather) involved the realization that I had misinterpreted more than half the Bible. Up until that point, I was convinced that the prominent use of Scriptural commands—“Choose this day,” “If you are willing to obey,” etc.—proved that those commands could be obeyed. But as last week’s post pointed out, such a conclusion is faulty. The conclusion is more than just faulty, though. It undermines the very faith on which we stand. You see, when we use the law to prove mankind’s ability, it ends up proving much more than we bargain for. It proves not just that we have some ability to follow after God; it proves...

Some Bible verses are almost impossible to interpret properly—on the first read-through, anyway. Take Malachi 3:18, for example: “Then you shall again discern between the righteous and the wicked, between one who serves God and one who does not serve Him.” When I read this verse, I practically can’t help but think only of intrinsic righteousness—that is, a righteousness that is mine by effort. I can only be considered righteous if I serve God—that is, if I somehow merit God’s favor. It is tempting to make this assumption when reading a plethora of Bible passages, including the stories of Noah and Mary. Both of these individuals received the Lord’s stamp of approval. “But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord” (Gen. 6:8). “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God” (Luke 1:30). It is easy to translate this favor as resulting from their righteous lifestyles. But in both of these cases, the words translated as “favor”—one Hebrew and the other Greek—literally mean “g...

I recently read through Genesis 15, where God reassures Abram, who is currently childless, that he will have numerous descendants (which God had initially promised in Genesis 12:1-3). Abram’s response leads to something amazing: “And he believed in the LORD, and He accounted it to him for righteousness” (Genesis 15:6). Commenting on this verse, Martin Luther says, “Righteousness is nothing else than believing God when He makes a promise.” The anti-intuitive nature of this statement struck me forcefully. You see, I am unconsciously inclined to think that my striving hard to do well is the kind of righteousness that pleases God. When I obey a particular law, do a good deed, or reject a temptation, then I have earned at least a small degree of God’s favor. But that is not how it works. God definitely blesses our faith-inspired efforts, but such efforts are…well, based on faith—that is, confidence in God’s promise to pardon and accept me through Christ’s atoning work. If I attempt ...