Category: How Americans Think Page 5 of 8

When America Makes No Sense

You can’t understand Tanzanians without understanding their view of the spirit world. It permeates every facet of life. Witchdoctors are often present at national soccer games, fending off the curses of the other team. Albino children have been known to have a limb cut off in the middle of the night, the appendage sold by a family member to a wealthy businessman who uses it in magic rituals. A herd of witchdoctor’s goats on our street ran free, tended by a spirit creature.

These beliefs were not just seen as superstitions or old wives tales. They were embedded in the worldview, part of the air the people breathed. Coming from our western, enlightened, scientific worldview, our heads would spin from these stories. But we learned, early on, that this was serious business. We needed to pay attention. 

If we had come in scoffing and mocking, critical and judgmental, how well do you think Tanzanians would have listened to us? They would have written us off. Though some stories were speculative, every Tanzanian has experienced situations with the spirit world that defy western imagination. They know what they have seen, or felt, or heard. Blowing it off was not an option. If we wanted to have a voice in Tanzania, we needed to first be learners. 

Steven Hawthorne* wrote, “If our impression of another culture is that it ‘makes no sense,’ then we can be sure that we are not making sense to them either. The solution is to become a learner.” 

My job these days is to help prepare new missionaries to move overseas. What I am discovering is that the same things they are learning can be just as easily applied to American Christians. 

Looking for Truth in All the Fake News

The waves of information crash, seeking to drown me. Everyone is passionate. Everyone has a different opinion. And the anger and the fear and the intensity are so strong and so overwhelming that sometimes I just want to put my fingers in my ears: I don’t care. I can’t know anything for sure so just shut up.

But disconnecting isn’t going to help the cause of Christ or humanity or my own soul. 

Why do I believe what I believe? There has probably never before been a more important time to ask this question. 

I am committed to finding truth. How do I discern what to read, who to trust, what to think? Here are my thoughts.

  1. My worldview is always, always the beginning.

Where did we come from? What is my purpose? What went wrong with the world? How can it be fixed?

I took those questions by the throat and wrestled with them for a number of years before I settled on the worldview presented in the Bible. And how I answer these big questions filters down into how I answer all of the smaller questions. But those big questions have to be answered first. 

Here’s an important clarification: Using a biblical worldview to form my opinions is vastly different from cherry picking Bible verses. Individual verses can say anything you want them to say, which is crazy dangerous. It’s like giving a sheriff’s badge to a six year old. Lots of authority, absolutely no wisdom. 

For example, when someone writes that 2 Corinthians 3:18 is telling Christians we shouldn’t wear masks during a pandemic, that’s, well, abhorrent. The Bible actually doesn’t say anything about masks. But it does have a lot to say about the role of government and how to love your neighbor. Connect those dots, and I can form an opinion on the matter. But that’s way different than pulling out some random verse and making it say what I want.

This means I must know the Bible. All of it, and really, really well. 

  1. I must ruthlessly scrutinize my own bias.

The temptation to believe what I want to believe is ridiculously strong. This is a problem. I have to ask, Do I want to believe what makes me feel safe and merry and smug? Or do I really want the truth? 

Do I believe this because I am simply afraid? Or because it feels lofty to be rebellious? Am so I disgusted by the messenger that I don’t want to consider the message? Or am I just too ticked off to consider an alternative? 

It’s Time to Live Like Missionaries

In May of 2016, I wrote an article called American Christians, You Might Need to Start Living Like Missionaries. I remember I wrote it pretty quickly, without a lot of editing, and I wasn’t expecting it to go very far. To my shock, it became one of my most-read pieces in all my years of blogging. It was shared hundreds of times and linked on a number of different websites. In fact, a magazine contacted me and asked to pay me to print it. 

If I had known it was going to be that popular, I would have chosen a less ridiculous picture to go with it. Good grief.

I think the reason it struck a nerve, though, was because that was the year everyone assumed that Hillary Clinton would be the next president. American Christians were bracing themselves for an assault against their core values. So the idea of needing to live like a missionary resonated with a lot of people. In fact, 8 days before the election, that post received 13,000 hits–on one day. That’s astonishing for my dinky little blog.

As we all know, the story had an unexpected twist when Trump was elected on November 8th. And suddenly, Christians didn’t feel they were on the outside anymore. In fact, some of them felt that we had gained the upper hand. Guess what? Nobody was interested in that post anymore.

As I reflect on the last four years, I mourn the loss of that attraction to the missionary mindset among American Christians. Sure, one could arguably make the case that there were gains in religious liberty and conservative values in these last four years. But was there a cost? Being in power makes us feel like we can win battles without winning hearts. It can make us idolize strength, instead of glorying in weakness. It can make us forget that we are supposed to be living like missionaries.

I Am Guilty of Cancel Culture

Here’s an interesting question: If it were possible, would you choose to have your political party to be the political party? Like, the majority in every state, in every election, for every candidate? 

Or how about this one: If it were possible, would you want every church to be a part of your denomination? So that every Christian ascribed to your doctrinal statement, worshipped like you do, had a building like yours?

There was a time when I would have enthusiastically answered Yes! My political position was the best for society. My denominational beliefs were the closest to Scripture. So for the good of all mankind, it would just make sense if everyone believed the same things as me. It might just usher in some kind of utopia.

In fact, I was so convinced of my rightness that I really wasn’t interested in hearing dissenting opinions. Reading something that opposed what I believed got me agitated, and, I would discover, even a bit hostile. It was easier to just shut those voices out of my life. I would take those blogs out of my feed. I would unfollow those people on Facebook. I would only read books that I knew I would agree with. I would avoid certain topics of discussion with certain people.

I was, essentially, canceling them.

Cancel culture is defined as “a modern form of ostracism in which someone is thrust out of social or professional circles – either online on social media, in the real world, or both.” Since Christians and conservatives are often the ones who are canceled by the media and universities, we often feel the brunt of this blacklisting. But what I hadn’t considered is that I was guilty of doing the same thing.

This is Why I Buy Used Stuff

The other day at Costco, I saw a woman with a CrockPot in her cart. I was tempted to run up to her and say, Do you know how easy it is to find one of those used? I refrained, of course. People already think I’m weird enough. So instead I just write about it on my blog.

But I know this first hand because I recently was on a quest for a CrockPot myself. I got a like-new one at a thrift store for $12, but there were dozens on OfferUp as well. I had my pick of the CrockPot litter. 

It has become a hobby of mine to buy used stuff as much as possible. It’s fun, but there’s more to it than finding a good deal. Here’s why it’s important to me:

  1. It’s the easiest way to shop ethically. Since so much of what we buy originates overseas, I don’t need to worry as much about which brands are using slave labor if I buy things used. This is especially true for clothing, which is often produced in Bangladesh, India, or China in horrifying conditions we wouldn’t wish on our greatest enemy. If we care about human rights, this should be important to us. 

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