The Freakonomics Guide to Parenting

I find it constantly amazing how people keep “rediscovering” things that we already knew, or perhaps more importantly, were already communicated to us through the Bible. 

I just finished reading a book called Freakonomics, a well-written and intriguing book that addresses a wide range of topics that are loosely related to each other. The underlying theme of the book is that economics’ study of numbers and trends offer insight into the behaviors and motivations of people, as well as reveal or at least theorize about certain societal issues. 

For instance, one of the most shocking revelations that the authors proffer is that the decline in crime in the 1990s was a result of Roe v. Wade and legalizing abortion, which allowed lower income, single, teenage mothers to avoid bring children into an environs that is conducive to a life of crime. Whereas previously abortions were prohibited and prohibitively expensive, so that only the wealthy could afford them, the new availability and legality reduced prices and stigma (somewhat) to the point where unwed mothers in high school with poor prospects could avoid bringing their sons (mostly) into such a situation. This transpired in the early 70s, which meant that when those aborted babies would have reached the late teenage years/early twenties when most burgeoning criminals began their careers, aka the 90s, those criminals simply weren’t there. Less criminals means less crime. Crime prevention through abortion, a solution that eerily harkens back to the Eugenics movement that led up to WW2 and the Holocaust. 

The authors, however, are not agitating or advocating abortion as crime prevention, merely following the data. This discussion led to the age-old question of nature vs. nurture in the formation of a person’s identity and behavior. And herein lies the issue that I wanted to share my thoughts on. Through demographic studies in California over the last 50 years, a wealth of information was gathered about babies and their mothers, specifically their socioeconomic, educational, etc. background. To make a long story short (TOO LATE!), the authors were able to compare different factors about the children’s development academically (admittedly a limited measurement) and show that parents matter not in what they do, but in who they are.

For example, if a family is in a higher socioeconomic it will lead to better test scores for the child than if the parents are still together. A higher income bracket suggests better educated parents who value and exhibit hard work, and therefore model it overtly or implicitly to their kids. It matters more if the parents are well-educated and have books in the home than if they take the child to museums or spank them. Spanking does not negatively affect test scores; reading to children does not positively affect test scores. A low birth weight does affect test scores years later because what it indicates is that the mother had the birth prematurely or did not have ample and appropriate prenatal care, which suggests that she was either uneducated, poor, or indifferent, if not all three. It is not a great leap in logic to assume that the child’s home life after birth will not significantly improve, which will then negatively affect the test scores. 

Make sense? That’s kind of the idea of the book in a nutshell: taking hard data and seeing where the connections are. Not necessarily that low birth weights cause bad test scores, but the correlation between the two can provide clues as to the common factor, the actual cause.  The point to this section of the book claims that children derive their behavior, work habits, etc from their parents’ lives, not teachings. “Do as I say, not as I do” is a proverb in the converse; it’s basically wrong and most people know it. 

And herein lies the brilliance of the Bible. “The sins of the father are passed down to the third and fourth generations,” the Old Testament states several times. And what that has usually been taken to mean, what I take it to mean, is that the consequences of the sins of the parents reverberate down to their children, shaping their children’s lives and affecting their behavior and decisions. My own thoughts and feelings toward alcohol were inherited from my father, who was deeply affected by his mother, whose personality and behavior was impacted by her drunken and abusive father. Four generations affected by a parent, almost a century of rammifications. And who knows if his father was the same way? Too often sons grow to be their fathers, or else the polar opposite of them; either way, the sons are inextricably affected by who their fathers are. 

As insightful and interesting as their observations have been, the authors of Freakonomics are covering old territory when it comes to understanding human behavior. For all that, their empirical approach lends credence to the proverbs and beliefs that have been passed down through generations. Consider this a recommendation to pick up that book, though everything you’ll ever need to know is to be found in the Bible.

The Upside of Selfishness

I was ruminating in the shower the other day about my freedom. As a single male with adequate financial means and no relationship of a romantic nature, I am unencumbered in the pursuit of my pleasures and entertainment. Is this always a good thing? No, but as I reflected on my friends, most of whom are married and have children, I realized how much freedom I truly have. I can go to a movie anytime I want; I can dine out or drive around town for hours on end. Should my health and weather permit, I can indulge my chief pleasurable activity, golf. Aside from work and a small group I am leading that meets at my apartment, my social calendar has no requirements. I can do anything and go anywhere (within reasonable bounds, of course) that my interest and means allow.

It is not lost on me how undeniably selfish this attitude is. Lest you write me off as hopelessly self-involved, I do care about other people, and seek their company. I willingly endure discomfort or inconvenience for the greater good of fellowship. And I think that I am not unduly selfish with my time. It cannot be denied, though, that I have much freedom. This occurred to me in the context of the unlikely event I should ever procure a wife and family. My life would not be my own, my responsibilities would immeasurably increase, and my freedom would completely vanish. I would have to consult with my wife about any social engagement which I might wish to attend, or when I could choose to arrive or depart from said engagement. I would undoubtedly have to fulfill obligations to her family or friends, to accommodate her wishes and desires as I hope she would accommodate mine. But no longer would I have autonomy over my life. 

And when children come? Pah! Farewell peace and quiet, adieu solitude and freedom. My schedule would fill up with activities geared toward their appetites and activities. The relative freedom of a married couple would diminish to an even greater degree than when I first joined forces with my spouse.

Not, of course, that there wouldn’t be compensations. I have often commented on the desolate loneliness I experience, the devout wish for someone whom I can completely entrust my life and heart, inasmuch as is possible with another human being. And I do cherish a hope one day to hold my son or daughter in my arms. Additionally, the greatest counter to this is the presence of God in my life, who banishes loneliness whenever I am wise enough to turn to Him for comfort and consolation. But this entry is primarily about the lack of freedom such entanglements, blessed though they may prove, would entail. 

As I mused on this subject, it occurred to me to be thankful, therefore, for the season of life in which I find myself. If and when I find a mate and start a life together, then everything will change. I will no longer have the freedom to go and do what I want, to spend my money on things I choose solely because I choose them. The present is a gift, enjoy it while I can, was the message that deluged me as lightly as the droplets from the showerhead. 

And herein lies the lesson. God tells us in His word to live in the present. The past is done and cannot be undone. It has been paid for and put aside; wounds may not fully heal but Christ can provide solace for them. Memories are, well, all in your head. And the future? Anyone’s guess. No good worrying about what might happen, any more than you should worry about whether you can grow a couple inches or change the tenor of your voice. It’s beyond your control, by and large, and again, Father knows best. We walk through this life one step at a time and one day at a time. All we need is strength and grace and love and kindness and patience for one day. And we live each day one hour at a time, one minute at a time, one second at a time, so we really only need grace and mercy and gentleness and self-control for a second at a time. When you look at it that way, it’s not as daunting as when you think about how to live the rest of your life. 

The point of all this is to cherish each moment, each minute, each hour, each day, each week, each month, each year in that order. The present is a gift, because it is Life, and we can live Life with the Life/Truth/Way. In fact, it’s the only way to live Life, capital L, and not trudge your way through life.

One final note: isn’t it amazing how God can take something as egotistical and selfish as my initial musing, and twist it into something good and beneficial? Only God can do that. Just imagine what He can do with your life, if you let Him.

Pre-Op

In two days I go under the knife. What a quaint and grotesque phrase, “under the knife.” Appropriate, though. For the first time, steel will taste my flesh, humans will look inside me and see my damage. Hopefully they can fix it, to the extent it can be fixed. It’s not really registering yet, I think. I always strive to be in control, and for the first time I will be completely helpless, at the mercy of another human being. It’s a powerful feeling of powerlessness. And though fear extends filmy fingers across the horizon of my thoughts, they are dim members amidst the bright promise of healing. Can I be healed? Will this be a turning point in my life?

I approach a crossroad. My third decade of life on earth begins with new experiences, new challenges, new promise. What will my eyes see going forth? What streets or terrain will my shiny new legs traverse? Or will they plod the same rambles and stumbles they have heretofore trod? Will I change? Can I change? Do I want to change? Will I take the opportunity that beckons like new spring after a cold, dismal winter? Or face the groundhog’s shadow and sink wearily into stupor, sating my appetites with rubbish best consumed by fire, not fit for the lowest scavengers?

A clock ticks behind me, summoning my remaining hours, counting off the chapter’s end to my story so far. Will the new chapter read like an epic? Full of adventures, triumphs and tragedies, grand and operatic? Or will I settle into a comfortable regimen and find satisfaction in the familiar things? Will my pursuit of Jesus lead anywhere? Or do I pantomime my faith?

Who could ever love me? This is a hard truth, the fact of God’s love. It’s a love that pierces every prevarication I erect, every subterfuge to which I resort, every filthy corner I try to hide in. God compels me with His love, against my wishes it seems. Why doesn’t He leave me alone? What have I done to deserve such attention? Why cannot I have peace from His o’erwhelming presence?

But I have spoken with forked tongue. Because when I do turn away from Him, the horror of myself, my nature, what I’m capable of disgusts me to the point of death. I turn away in despair, and find that I have turned back to Him. And He washes my face with His tears. And He bathes me with the Light of His presence. And He clads me with raiment pure and white, His terrible and wonderful presence burning away my soiled and shabby rags like ether in the wind. Not even I can separate myself from His dogged affection, His dauntless joy, His irrepressible salvation.

Of Suds and Sundry Matters

I was having a pint of beer with a couple of friends of mine, in itself an unusual occurrence, and we fell to talking about sundry matters (though sudry matters may have been more apropos). They are a married couple, very quirky and extremely well-suited for each other. I thought I was eccentric, but they make me look tame, even if they look very tame from the outside, but that’s beside the point. Plus, I love that about them, their eccentricity. Anyway, we were talking about relationships and I inquired, as part of my ongoing research, what women look for in men. Rebecca gave three criteria: men have to be intelligent (I’m thinking: “Check.”), self-confidence (“Uh-oh”) and not embarrassing (which, when I requested clarification, simply means social decorum). Despite my unfortunate tendency to commit social faux pas in groups of friends, generally I can negotiate social interactions with strangers with aplomb. I am reasonably intelligent, though I realize more and more just how unintelligent I am compared to how intelligent I think I am. That just leaves Self-Confidence. 

This was the least surprising of Rebecca’s criteria; I’d heard this from literally every other woman I’ve surveyed. And of course this is where I struggle the most. But that long and sordid tale is not the aim of this rumination. I’ve noticed a certain dynamic in relationships, my perception of which, granted, comes largely from the portrayals in drama (movies, TV, literature) and is therefore to be taken with a metric ton of salt. However, working on this basis, I find this requirement of women to be problematic. Let me explain.

Let’s say, for instance, that a woman is approached by a man. The man is smooth, suave, confident. The woman is impressed. They strike up a relationship. Now, most of the time, women want to go deeper and deeper with their emotions and dialogue with men. In other words, they want to get to the reason why the man is so confident, why he is how he is. And if the man is only fronting his confidence, as it seems the vast majority of men do (aware, as they are, of this requirement women have of men), then either the man will maintain an emotional distance from the woman, since any real relationship must show the man’s self-confidence to be the fraud that it is, or the man opens himself up to the woman, and then becomes needy and lacks self-confidence, which is what attracted the woman in the first place. (The third option, that the man is truly confident, will be dealt with later.)

Do you see the conundrum? Either the woman cannot truly get close to the man, or they succeed and find the man’s self-confidence to be a lie. Now some women would probably say that they want a man to be vulnerable, but they would also say (if pressed) that they want a man to be assertive and quasi-domineering rather than milquetoast. And they are quite right; a woman must ultimately despise a man who allows himself to be ruled and run roughshod over by the woman, who will continue to do so even as she berates the man for allowing her to do so. A happy and healthy relationship cannot be built upon such a foundation. 

What is the solution? No, really, I’m asking.

The third option, the man who is truly self-confident, can be self-confident in one of three ways. First, if he is obtuse to his own shortcomings and blithely assumes that any character flaws others might ascribe to him are jealous mutterings. Easy to see and diagnose the cure: avoidance. Second, if he is aware of any possible flaws and chooses not to care about the options of others; in other words, a narcissist. Again, an easy person to avoid.

The third way is the most tricky. This man acknowledges his own failings and has made peace with them, an uneasy balance of banishing self-recrimination with seeking self-improvement. Obviously the ideal in a man (and human at that), and certainly the rarest of beasts that walk the earth.

So just as the man might wish for a gorgeous, intelligent, and doting wife who will meet all his needs and adore him unconditionally, equally imaginary is the woman’s desire for a truly self-confident man, or one who they might break down and build up. A man cannot find his self-sufficiency in the woman; she is coming to him for that. It would be like two people sitting on one end of a teeter totter and expecting the device to function properly.

In the end, the answer, which is in a sense vaguely unsatisfying, must be that God must provide that sense of fulfillment and confidence that men and women must have so that they won’t try to elicit from each other. I say it is vaguely unsatisfying because it seems like God is a panacea: whatever is wrong in your life, God fixes it. But how does He fix it in this particular instance?

Herein lies the interesting paradox, which was echoed in the original conundrum I outlined above. Because God does know us deeply, intimately. He knows us better than we know ourselves. And we must journey with Him in the heart of darkness, pain, and doubt that each person bears because of sin. We must be broken down, all our false bravado and hollow self-confidence shattered. But He can mend our hearts, He can provide us a confidence and peace of mind and heart that nothing can shake. For we can place our confidence in who we are in Him, which means putting confidence in His sufficiency and power and assurance. His perfection.

Then we can give out of the wealth of our sufficiency in Him instead of giving out of our own poverty. He meets our needs, our deepest desires and gravest wounds He cares for. We can pour out our darkest sins and know that they are no more, that He knew of them before He descended from on high to crawl across the face of the earth, a man, and to bear the punishment, the utter rejection that was my lot, deservedly so. O blessed Savior! How great a salvation! How wonderful to know that I am a hopeless failure and God loves me just the same! I can laugh in the face of ridicule, I can huddle in the Everlasting Arms when the Devil throws my sin in my face. I can cry out for His forgiveness for failing Him again and again, and know that it is mine before even I form the thought.

Twolvight and Gears of Mt. Mart

It all starts with beer. A commercial a few years ago capitalized on the growing trend of product placement. It was a swashbuckling film set with musketeers and damsels in huge dresses. The producer and director were talking, and one said that they would get free beer for placing references to the beer in their movie. The other was thunderstruck, and promptly began to place as many references to the beer as feasible. The capper at the end of the ad was a beer truck bursting through the wall.

I’m not sure when the first intentional product placement took place in a film. It’s become a running joke for some filmmakers (see: Bay, Michael). Critics bewail it as the insidious creep of commercialism into an art form, disregarding the fact that the movies advertise to generate revenue, spending millions of dollars to do so. And with the ever increasing cacophony of ads jostling for the consumer’s attention, the making of an effective ad has become something of an art form. The movie has become more commercial, and the commercial has become more like a mini-movie, with special effects, high production value, and celebrities. 

(A currently running ad features two actors who have starred in major movies. It’s even unclear what the ad is about, as the two just conduct warfare at various places around the globe. It felt like a movie trailer, my initial reaction, until the NBA star appeared at the end. Go figure.)

Two recent ads have shaken my hope for the future of this country, however. (Don’t you love it when they say things like that? “This week’s sign of the Apocalypse!”) The first features an ad for the movie Twilight: Breaking Wind…er Dawn (excuse me, Freudian slip). It is an ad for the movie which features the main characters driving. The reason why a movie about vampires and werewolves is advertised with scenes in a car? The ad is also one for Volvo. So selling the movie, a completely separate kind of product, has been melded with a car advertisement. Now, if the movie was something related to driving, like the recent film Drive, then it would at least make theoretical sense to combine the two. But Vampires and Werewolves driving Volvos? Goth goes suburban. (Though the glittering vibe of this permutation of vamps, coupled with a nauseating romance, does sort of fit.)

But the second is, perhaps, the more egregious and breathtaking/groundbreaking, if slightly more subtle. (It’s the subtlety, in fact, that I find interesting. More in a moment.) The movie is actually a combo as well, but less contradictory than the Twolvight ad. The newest iteration of the video game Gears of War is coming out, and it features two guys talking on the phone. One has just returned from Wal-Mart where he purchased the game at midnight. He calls his friend who is in a hotel room, and who tells the first guy that he the second guy flew to New York City to get the game one hour ahead of the second guy, therefore getting a head start on the game. Fine. Certainly not the most irrational premise to a commercial I’ve ever heard, someone spending hundreds of dollars to fly to NYC and rent a hotel room to have an hour’s advantage playing a video game that will be passé in seven months. But here’s the kicker: when we see the second guy in his hotel room, in the corner there is a Mt. Dew cube. It’s subtle but it’s there. 

And this is why I feel this is the more intentional and representative instance of product placement. Because while the mail thrust of the Gears of Mt. Mart commercial is to sell the game and the store you can buy it in (hence the combo), the fact that they inserted a third product (even if it is associated with people who spend thirteen hours straight playing video games) is the homage to slipping in a reference to BMW or Burger King in a Michael Bay movie or TV show (a la Arrested Development).
 
It's a commercial within a commercial.

Why is this such a big deal, you ask? The onslaught of consumerism marches on. I have the sensation that we will soon be unable to differentiate between a commercial and a show at all, if things progress as they seem to be doing. Don’t get me wrong: I’m more sympathetic with capitalism than the opposite ideology, but there’s a limit to good taste and creativity. A half hour show is barely twenty minutes of show anymore, or so it seems to me. I know for a certainty that an average hour long show is 42 minutes. That’s almost a third of the hour devoted to advertising! A Third! What if a third of the newspaper was the classifieds and sales brochures? Oh wait…

Does this make sense? I feel like I’m turning into one of those people who will eventually toss out their television and stop watching movies made after 1995. There are a lot of creative ideas and people out there, and I don’t think you have to compromise creativity to get people to consume your products. Neither do I think that the bottom line must color everything. To squeeze every last drop of profit out of something may make sense in a business sense, but the world isn’t a business, and people aren’t solely customers. At least, they didn’t used to be.

Refinement

I heard a story in church this Sunday about a group of people who went to a smithy to ask about the process of refinement. As Christians, one of the biblical analogies involves being refined like steel, and these people were interested in what exactly that entailed. The smithy explained that first the fire must be very hot, so as to heat the metal to the point where it becomes malleable. Then he begins to purge the imperfections from the metal. One person asked, “How do you know when you’re finished?” The maker replied, “When I can see my reflection in it.” 

That was it. Just a casual story told between songs by the worship leader. I was floored. 

So many things seemed to come together into this simple allegory. First, the idea of heating the metal, forging the Right Jerusalem Blade in the hottest fire, for it is under such duress and adversity that metal becomes malleable. 

Malleable. Able to be shaped, to be reshaped and fashioned into the conception of the maker. The metal is put under fire so that it will be able to be shaped, made pliable and ready to conform to the mind of the master. 

But the image that pierced my heart and mind most profoundly, and the image that was sadly unexpounded upon, was the notion of completion. The tool or weapon is done, the purging of imperfections complete, when the Master can see His reflection in the metal. The image of the creator shown in the created. That is when the process of refinement is done.

And how can we escape this? Is this not a wonderful picture of Christ’s forging of us? All the misery and heartache, the physical pain and spiritual anguish I have experienced and continue to expeience, is not a punishment. Nor is it simply the unfortunate, inevitable consequence of living in a fallen world. It is the fire of travail, God’s workmanship, the forging of a new creation out of burnt and twisted metal. The imperfections must be purged, the flaws hammered out, and the fire must be hot enough until I am pliable, malleable, ready to be shaped and conformed into the creation that the mind of the Father has conceived. 

And what is the endpoint? O Glory! To bear His image! To be the Image-bearer of God! To be restored to the perfection of Adam in Eden! The original intent of Man, to glorify God and present to all creation the image of the Trinity. What a marvelous salvation! Who could have imagined something so simple and yet profound, so paradoxical that the turmoil and tribulation is planting seeds of destruction from which a tree of life, the Life of Jesus, will grow. 

I am God’s piece of work.

Playing to Win or Playing not to Lose?

Since I’ve started watching football these last few years, I’ve noticed a fascinating phenomenon. Sometimes I’ll watch a game unfold in a certain manner. One team has trouble moving the ball down the field and scoring; their offense struggles to complete passes and run for yards. The other team has control of the game and usually enters the final minutes with a lead. 

Then, something amazing happens, and it’s almost predictable. The trailing team will suddenly change. Passes will begin to be completed; runs will go for yards. The offense marches down the field and scores. Maybe their defense stops the opponents and the offense has another shot. They march down and score again. The opponents’ defense, which had been stopping the offense for the majority of the game, starts to crumble and falter. Sometimes they hold on for the win; sometimes the team trailing comes back for a memorable victory. 

I’m not interested in the final outcome. What interests me is the dynamic of the game, the aggressiveness of the teams and their respective offenses and defenses. Momentum, that magical watchword that commentators love to reference, swings from one team to the other, and the reason people talk about it so much is that it actually seems like a viable component of the game. If Team A has had the momentum the entire game and Team B starts making plays, the momentum shifts and the situation is ripe for the comeback. It’s tremendously exciting, especially if your team is the one coming back. It’s almost better than if your team leads the whole game and wins comfortably. 

But it’s bizarre how the tables can turn so completely. The leading team was aggressive on defense the whole game, making tackles or turnovers, disrupting pass patterns and flying to the ball. The trailing team’s offense seemed rattled and stymied, unable to convert third downs to prolong drives; passes would be out of reach, run blocks would not be crisp and timely, and the endzone was miles away. Then momentum swings and the defenders are missing tackles, giving up huge plays, allowing points to be scored and long runs to be gained. The offense that was stalled kicks into overdrive; passes are on target, receivers are running great routes, ball carriers are breaking tackles, blockers are flattening their assignments. 

The passive defense that allows such shifts has been called the prevent defense in common parlance. The leading team softens their defense to prevent the opponents from making big plays to turn the tide of the game. If you’re down two touchdowns, you don’t want to give up a seventy yard touchdown because you’re being too aggressive, the prevailing wisdom holds. Therefore the defense eases up and the offense finds a rhythm. The results can spell disaster for the team leading that goes into prevent defenses. Commentators call this “playing not to lose instead of playing to win.” Rather than continue to play with the same level of aggression and intensity that created the lead, teams ease off the accelerator and play to hold the lead, react to the opponents instead of imposing their game plan on them. If you’ve watched a season of football, you’ll probably be familiar with this concept.

So what? you may be asking. Well, I was just thinking that the Church plays not to lose instead of playing to win.

How is that? It’s a bit hard to put into words, but let me just begin by defining modern Christianity in the Western culture. A simple task, I’ll admit, but bear with me. (By the way, spelling is key with that phrase, “bear with me.” Think about it.) This may be an oversimplification and a gross generalization, and if so then so be it. But modern Christianity seems more concerned with preventing sin and gussying up the image of the Church than going on the offensive. We condemn homosexuality and promiscuity and abortion and lascivious lifestyles, and drill the younger generation with dire predictions and consequences if they stray. As my pastor Lloyd would say, the Church is more known for what it’s against than what it’s for. We’re trying to prevent decadence and sin and the moral decline of America, and doing a lousy job by the way. We’re back on our heel, reacting to the world and cultural zeitgeist, beating the drum for politicians who share our views on social issues and economic ones. 

Meanwhile the offense is moving down the field, racking up points. As the book UnChristian details, more and more of the younger generation of non-believers have worse and worse opinions about Christianity, and the moral compass of younger Christians (at least, those who identify themselves as such) does not preclude things like premarital sex, cursing, gambling, and carousing, to name a few things. The game is rapidly slipping out of our hands; all the momentum seems to be on the other side. The culture celebrates things like homosexuality, teenage pregnancy, irresponsibility, materialism, and sees little distinction between most Christians and themselves, especially on the last issue.

And how do Christians respond? By looking at each other on Sundays, shaking their heads, donating some money to the politician that sounds like they’ll fight for our beliefs, and maybe throwing up a prayer or two. Not good enough.

It has been said that the best defense is a good offense. Perhaps the best way to turn the tide in the battle for the hearts and minds of the current generation isn’t to retreat to churches and huddle around in small groups of like-minded individuals. Perhaps the best way to defend our beliefs is to go on the offensive, to speak out in our workplaces, to refuse to see movies celebrating Godless behaviors, to distinguish ourselves from the world, to counterattack with the Gospel of Jesus Christ when the world throws their values and mentality at us. 

Here’s the thing, though. Offense can be, well, offensive. We need to be willing to be offensive. We don’t have to present the Gospel in an offensive way, but the Gospel itself will be offensive to lots of people who don’t like the idea that they can’t do whatever they want to, that their actions and desires have actual consequences, that a morality higher than themselves will judge them. Are we willing to be that offensive? Speaking the Truth in love, but still speaking it? Maybe it’ll mean you don’t get invited to parties as much, or people mock you for being a religious fanatic, a “fundamentalist.” And (gulp) you’ll probably have to start doing some serious reading into the Word, and other resources about the Word, because once you draw a line in the sand, those who don’t like lines will come after you. They’ll start nitpicking everything you do and say. They’ll look for the tiniest particle of hypocrisy, and pounce on it immediately.

One of the side benefits (note: read with serious sarcasm) is that this will inevitably lead to more conversations with God, more reliance on Him for wisdom, patience, strength, and love. Just like you truly understand something when you have to teach it, you really will behave like a Christian once you put yourself out there as an exemplar. Isn’t it just like God to combine the witnessing and winning of new converts with the deepening and enriching of your own relationship with Him in the same process? I love that kind of multitasking. 

A few notes in closing. This is a general principle. I’m not advocating that you immediately start picking verbal fights with people, nor start badgering people to get saved. Your personal situation is unique and the Lord will dictate how to use you in the lives of those around you. Again: the Lord will dictate, not you or I or your pastor. That’s the key element to the whole dang opera. This is the Lord’s work, not yours, and it’s His responsibility to win people to Him. All we have to do is make ourselves available to do and say and be whatever He tells us. And depending on where you are in life, and who you are, and what you do, that’s going to be different. Your end of the bargain, again, is to be available, to be part of the offense, to say things when He prompts you to, or offer to pray, or volunteer at soup kitchens, or sell your car and buy a cheaper one so you can give away the excess to missions. Whatever He calls you to, you have to be ready to do. 

And second, “you” includes me. I’m not preaching from Mount Pious here, a spiritual giant talking down to all you peons. I’m in the same boat. But I want to make a difference. I want to go on offense. I’m tired of seeing social rot creep over our culture, of ever diminishing values and virtues blared across the airwaves. Are you tired of that too? Do you want to start doing things that have eternal value and endurance? Do you want to fight on the front lines? Saddle up, pilgrim. The world is at war; the battle is joined. Are you in, or out?