Persecution Today

Ms. Li Ying is serving a 15-year sentence in a Chinese prison for her part in a Christian publication. Imagine that, fifteen years for just writing what you believe! Visit www.prisoneralert.com for the full story and how you can help Ms. Li Ying.

The Skeptic Paper

This is the first part of an allegory/parable I wrote some time ago. Perhaps some of you will enjoy it and I'll post more later...


I stood outside of the little church building listening to the last foggy strains from the organ while all about me the elements thundered and shook with a nightly wrath. It hardly mattered that I was being drenched from head to toe with great black water missiles - my mind was entirely preoccupied with other matters. I listened with a brooding mind as the pastor's low voice rumbled in the building. There was the scraping of feet, another crash of thunder and a few minutes later a little band of people huddled together under a canopy of black mushrooms scuttled away in the dark. Another crash sounded from the heavens and the rain began to fall more heavily upon me. They were all gone.

I slowly began to amble toward the building, still deeply consternated. Several times I would stop full, convinced that I was a fool. Then it would come upon me again and I'd shuffle forward a few steps. Suddenly I found myself at the door. The old man was standing at the very front, bustling through some papers in the dim light. For a second I wavered, but then he looked up and saw me. It was done, I was here and now I must go through with the whole thing.

"May I help you, sir?" the pastor called across the dim avenue between the solid oak pews.
I glanced warily up at him from under my hat rim. I knew I must tell him all that was on my mind.

"Well," he persisted, coming down from his perch and strolling right up to me. He stopped a couple feet away and stared intently at me. His gray brows twitched with concern, but not for himself, that was clear enough. It made me want to give the venture up.

"I heard you," I began moodily, "tonight."

"And?" A smile twitched on his face.

"No," I murmured, a slight smile tucking up under my lips. I could read his mind. "I am not of that sort."

"Then," he sighed, tucking his weathered Bible under his arm, "may I ask your business."

I reached into my pocket. It was there. Laboriously I pulled it out. "My objections to your faith," I said with a grim finality in my voice. I handed him the paper.

He seized it with a zeal that surprised me. I had intended to leave a broken and dejected old man after a five-minute session in sound logic. Things didn't seem so promising. His gray eyes skimmed the contents with a precise but rapid speed. I could tell he was weighing every word, but with an unflinching discernment. I saw none of the paleness of features, the contortions of figure, and gasping I had expected. It made me uncomfortable. Suddenly, he handed me the paper back.

"I'm surprised," he muttered. "You don't strike me as a steadfast atheist."

It took me completely off guard. "And why not?" I stuttered. "I wrote these myself!"

"Oh," he smiled wanly, "I don't doubt that you authored them, but your manner and your pen don't match very well, but that matters little. What does matter is this, I have seen your point of the argument. You must see mine."

"You mean you aren't in the least convinced?"

"No, I am not, but really that isn't to be wondered at, and it shan't be for long. Come, let me show you a few things...if you have a moment or two." He was stepping quickly toward the front of the church again.

"Why...yes, I mean, so sudden?" I was following him and crying out excuses all the while. "Right now? I mean, don't you need time to think it out and write it down?"

"No," he said, turning sharply on me the moment we stood behind the pulpit. "Your paper wasn't the first exposure I've had to those ideas and philosophies."

"It wasn't?" I cried in astonishment.

He chuckled. "Satan is in the habit of recycling his deceptive logic. You aren't the first one he hoodwinked."

"Are you suggesting..."

"Quite. A moment ago," the old man turned and faced me grimly, "I said that I didn't doubt you wrote those points. I don't. However, I do seriously doubt that you concocted those points. Unless you are a thousand years old, nay older, or not human, which I can see is false, those aren't your propositions."

"Then...whose?" I gasped.

"It is no good talking over that now," he replied, "you wouldn't believe me. However, perhaps after you've seen my, or His, should say, side of things, you may be more open for conversation."

All the while he'd been fumbling around with a strange curtain behind the pulpit that seemed to serve no purpose at all for I quite distinctly knew that there was no window on this side of the church. Suddenly the drapes jumped back, revealing a little door in the wall.

"I shall wait out here," I declared, assuming the door to be the entrance to his private library.

"Not if you wish to see my logic," he replied, "and I should say that would be only fair." Without waiting for me to reply, he turned the knob fiercely and flung open the door with a loud screech. I peered into the dark beyond, but could see nothing save a few dust balls floating around in the darkness. The building trembled with a sudden flash and boom. The storm raged on.

"What is in there?" I wondered in awe, falling back a few steps.

"You shall see," he said briskly. "Now come."

His words jolted me into a sudden realization of what I was about to do. I succinctly realized, though I couldn't place my finger logically on the why of it, that I was in a very vulnerable position. That humble crevice in the wall threatened to shave off all my endeared philosophies. Another curious power began to work in me then, and without knowing exactly why, I stepped hesitantly into the door.

It was with great surprise that I found myself standing in a place worlds different than the black corridor that I'd expected. Not only was my guide nowhere to be seen, but I was standing outside. I found myself on a peat-colored turf that ran for five yards or so in front of me until it fell off in a sheer cliff. At the edge of the precipice a row of bridges touched the turf. I advanced with mounting curiosity and found that the row stretched on almost endlessly into the white fog that surrounded me. I turned to one of the bridges and looked at it more carefully. I could see a few feet out but the fog prevented me from seeing not only the rest of the bridge but even the other side was completely obscure.

I puzzled for several minutes over this very strange place and looked around for some explanation. As I looked about I found a signpost that I'd previously overlooked. It read in deep green print: God. The script was followed by a solid arrow pointing toward the cliff. Obviously all of the bridges were proposed ways to God. I walked toward one of the bridges again. A small mat lay at the foot, which read: Buddha. As I advanced down the row I found many other familiar names, Mohammed...Zeus...Baal, they stretched through all ages. So far the bridges were all of relatively the same make, broad carpeted steps for relatively easy passage. However, as previously observed, I was unable to see beyond the first few feet because of the oppressive fog that was settled over the place.

Suddenly I spied at the very end of the row a bridge set apart from the rest. It was a very unpopular way of travel (as I could tell by the heavy weeds that grew around it), and as I approached, I saw immediately why. In order to gain entrance, one had to stoop over almost double and even then the sides pressed in on you most oppressively. However, there was one thing that could cause some to be willing to forgo its uncomfortable build. At the head of the frame it read simply: WAY, TRUTH, LIFE, and one felt very suddenly that the words weren't to be doubted.

As I began to ponder over this mystery of the bridges I suddenly heard a most dreadful sound that shook my attention from the bridges. A horrible wailing like that of a person in the uttermost distress and yet having absolutely no hope of deliverance rose up through the fog. Only it was not of one person, but of several, nay hundreds, thousands, millions! I may even venture to say that as I stood there I thought perhaps the cry was lifted up by even billions. It was doubtless the most fearful and chilling cry one has ever heard and words cannot describe it. The shrieking of a thousand ghosts would have been less terrifying than this. I say, the sigh of a thousand ghosts would have been heaven compared to the torture of bearing this horrible sound on my ears. It spoke of uttermost betrayal and tragedy and perhaps worst of all, a most unbearable guilt like finding out after years of hiding the truth that you were really a brutal and heartless murderer and then having to live with that thought forever. I could run on forever vainly trying to depict this fiendish shriek, but I shall continue. I began to wonder where this devilry came from, and as I thought fearfully about it, I suddenly realized that it was coming from deep within the ravine.

Hardly had I time to think anymore about this than another thing seized my mind. I found that I was standing on a solid brick road, overgrown by mosses to be sure, but still solid, that ran up the side of a sloping hill. For some reason, perhaps to get away from the dreadful sound, I quickly ran up the slope. I was out of breath by the time I reached the top; I turned and gazed toward the bridges and to my surprise I found that I could see much further. At the time I didn't even think of the scientific impossibility of it all. Indeed, now that I ponder it more, I realize that I was standing on a hill of Faith. Had I considered the reasonability of it, my vision would have clouded. But as it was, I saw clear across the landscape for a long distance. I could see across the ravine and even caught a glimpse of the other side, which was bathed in brilliant sunshine and growing vegetation. However, it was the bridges that caught my attention. I saw to my alarm that only one of them actually bridged the gulf. All the rest broke off halfway, left hanging precariously over the ditch below. The only one that actually spanned the ravine was the little narrow one so infrequently used. I shivered to think how many travelers had skipped to their doom across one of the many grand bridges.

Now I knew that the fiendish cries I'd heard were those of sojourners who'd been beguiled into taking one of the bridges and had paid for it with their life. However, far from feeling that they were innocent, misled lambs, I felt that they had been duly warned. For anyone who cared to look at the last bridge, there were the words: WAY, TRUTH, LIFE. However, I also knew that I was not anywhere above them. How many times I had been just as foolish as they had!

Suddenly, I spied a lonely traveler making his way toward the bridges. I gasped, realizing that he was heading for one of the many wrong routes. "Stop!" I cried, flying down the hill after him.
He turned and looked at me with one foot on the bridge labeled: Buddha. "Yes?" he sighed quizzically.

"Sir," I cried, "don't go that way! All of these bridges except for the last one drop off at the midway point! They don't span the gulf!"

"My way is as good as anyone’s," he sneered.

"But you don't understand!" I protested, "It's not a matter of me being better than you or anything else...it's just that I've been to the top of that hill and seen all of them. Only one of them goes across!"

"Truth is relative," he replied deludedly.

"Yes, yes, yes," I sputtered, "all that was good for the academy and all that, but here, it's not a philosophical reasoning...it's just a pointed fact, this bridge wasn't built to span the gulf! I've seen it!"

He looked at me through lowered lids for a moment, then sneered, "Prude, hatemonger, narrow-minded idiot!" He pushed me over with his foot. I watched in horror as he danced up the stairs and then went running across the bridge. A moment later I heard a horrible scream and knew all was over for him.

I felt a touch on my arm. I looked up with a start. The pastor was standing there. "Do you understand this?" he asked silently.

"No, I can't say I do," I murmured.

"Here, read the first point on the paper you gave me," he pointed to the paper that stuck out of my pocket.

I hastily pulled it out and read rapidly: How can one say that Christianity is the only way to God when there are many other well-intentioned people promoting ways to God. It is rather hateful and narrow-minded to suppose such a thing. After all, truth is relative. What works for you, may not work for another.

"Now," the pastor commanded, "go take another look at that bridge on the end."

I walked slowly to the narrow bridge and saw immediately what I hadn't seen before. On the threshold in simple text it read: Jesus Christ.

"Come," the pastor said, "there is more to see."

Contemporary Christian Music versus The Hymn Book

The conflict between Contemporary Christian Music and the hymns of our past has been hotly warred on hundreds of frontiers. For many Christians this is the deciding factor when it comes to church, fellowship and friends! We are no longer divided so much by doctrinal beliefs, as by musical preferences. In my mind this is a great tragedy. Imagine worship getting in the way of unity! Imagine praise for the head dividing the members! It’s sheer lunacy! As one great pastor used to say, "When Satan fell, he fell into the choir loft."

In this article I don’t claim to be able to solve the whole issue, but I do want to take a hard look at both sides and show that both sides have need of improvement. You see, I am one of those people who enjoy both spectrums almost equally, and therefore, I believe I can speak with more authority than some on the issue.

First let’s look at the group of people who would call all ‘rock’ music sinful. I tend to respect this group more, even though I don’t agree with them, because they are in general our elders and parents. Their argument against rock music is usually three-fold. The first reason they do not support Christian rock is because they believe the music is crafted to stimulate sexual and drug perversions. Their second argument – the disorderly beats and rhythms inaccurately portray an orderly God. Their third attack – the way the artists present themselves (how they dress) is not God honoring.

The first argument is probably their most repeated. I respect their opinion on this because in their age (1960’s), that’s pretty much what rock music was used for – sinful stimulation. And for that reason I hugely disapprove of Christians listening to the Beetles, Led Zeppelin etc. The lyrics and music are anti-Christian. However, for those of us who are teen-agers now, these beats and rhythms don’t motivate us in wrong directions. I can listen to Steven Curtis Chapman and Casting Crowns and Mark Harris and be motivated for God, not the flesh. In this sense, it is more of a personal thing that requires individual examination.

Argument number two: the disorderly beats and rhythms inaccurately portray an orderly God. It is true that this sort of music is a bit more up beat, but it is still ordered to an extent. Most groups still have verses and a chorus and the distinction is very clear. With many groups there is terrific harmonization of a vast array of instruments that would not sound good without careful structuring. Remember that we are not talking about rap and heavy-metal, just Contemporary Christian.

The third attack I will concede to a point. Certain groups need to rethink their appearance. Some are not portraying a godly image. Long sloppy hair, immodest women etc. is not Christian freedom but sin. However, not all Contemporary Christian groups dress this way. Take a look at some of their CDs; many still dress well (e.g. Philip, Craig and Dean; Josh Bates).

Now let’s shift gears and look at those who are fine with Contemporary Christian music. Here the problem is not so much in ordered attacks as in a subconscious rebellion. I confess that even I struggle at times with a twinge of the ‘flaunt your liberty’ syndrome. It’s easy to want to make fun of those who don’t feel liberty to listen to the Contemporary Christian music, and to call them prudes and legalists in your mind. Chances are you’ve never verbally said that, but have you said it in your heart? It’s wrong. If eating meat causes are brothers to stumble, we’re to abstain – likewise music (1 Corinthians 8).

Another thing is an almost contempt for the great hymns of our past. This is a plague that I can claim freedom from. I grew up all my life singing hymns every Sunday and I love them. They have been spiritual friends to me, and it ruffles my feathers when people speak against them. I’ve detected a snubbing of these great songs in the Contemporary movement, and I don’t like it. One fellow I talked to over the Internet a few years ago (not an artist himself) said that if it were required that you liked hymns to be a Christian, he probably wouldn’t become one. I can try to understand if you just don’t like the music style of the old hymns, but if you are detesting the lyrics themselves, then I don’t feel bad in saying that you are spurning Christianity itself!
One of the main arguments for Contemporary Christian and (indirectly against hymnology is), the Bible says to ‘sing a new song’, right? (Psalm 98:1) Yes, but does this mean that we need to ditch the old ones? I don’t think so. Take a look at this verse: And they sang the song of Moses, the bond-servant of God, and the song of the Lamb, saying,". (Revelation 15:3) This is right before the bowl judgments at the end of time and they’re singing the song of Moses! That’s pretty dated (Deut 32; Ex. 15). So the point is that God doesn’t get bored of our songs; what he does get angry with is when we say things we don’t mean or sing without thinking – using His name in vain.

So in conclusion, I want to challenge both groups and myself to be careful. As I said in the beginning, this article will in no way solve the problem, but hopefully, it will cause some of us to think. And really in a lot of ways this is a conflict between the listeners. Those who write the songs, at least we hope, are too busy glorifying God to be worried about these insignificants…so should we.

Luther: Movie Review

Luther, (PG-13 for violence, 2003) is a movie which I believe more Christians should see. It tells the story of Martin Luther, perhaps the greatest leader of the reformation with power and accuracy.

Whereas many Hollywood presentations of Christianity water our faith down to what is acceptable for the common viewer, I was astounded at the faithfulness displayed in this movie (produced by MGM) in retaining the gospel message. Luther declares that we need not fear God if we are putting our trust in Christ, and he also says that salvation is not found outside of Christ.

The film starts with Luther's encounter with the lightning storm and subsequent vow to be a monk. From there it details his struggle with God as he tries to love a God misrepresented. A trip to Rome only further antagonizes this turmoil. At last Luther is permitted to study the Bible for himself, and though the movie does not show his discovery in Romans, Luther emerges with a clear gospel message and a passionate love for God.

Meanwhile in Rome, the pope is anxious to start a new building project so he issues hundreds of indulgences to be sold to the common people. The charlatans come to Germany, and Luther finds out about the cheat by way of a poor woman in his parish who purchases an indulgence. In fury, he nails his 95 thesis up for all to see.

The film goes on to detail Luther's continuing fight with Rome and the battle for the truth. There are many heart-stirring scenes, and the triumph of Christianity was enough to bring tears to my eyes at times.

Overall the film is very clean, though there are a few scenes that may bother some viewers. The film is rated PG-13 for violence, and while the violence in no way permeates the film like it does in Lord of the Rings or other similar films, there are three gruesome scenes. They are relatively brief, and do not scar the content of the entire film. There is also a scene of Luther and his wife kissing in bed. Both are fully clothed, and it is short.

The film is also filled to the brim with excellent quotes and images. The council of Worms where Luther gives his "Here I stand" speech is almost unparalleled in the video industry, and as if there were not enough power in the film already, it ends with the nobles of Germany humbly telling their Catholic king that sooner than renounce their faith they would have someone strike off their head.

The story is done skillfully and professionally while still retaining a Christian message. I earnestly hope that it will be a model for other Christian films.

Reality Strike!

Should a Christian young person go to a Christian or Secular college? Or doesn't it matter?