Breakpoint

The gospel isn't just two chapters, but four – not just fall and redemption. Rather, the whole story begins with creation – then fall, redemption – and concludes with restoration (for His glory).

Pastor Matt Heard shares the importance of guarding our heart, understanding that the gospel is restoring us to the original purpose for which we were made.

The heart includes – but is way more than – our emotions. It's where we experience longing. It's where we discern and understand. It's where we ponder and think. It's where we remember significant events. It's where my interactions with others are birthed (all authentic relationships are heart connections). It's where we experience stress (i.e., "Do not let your heart be troubled"). It's where we cultivate our intensity. It's the center of our attitude. It's where we exhibit courage. Bottom line – our heart – including our walk with God (it's with our heart that we believe)

Matt Heard is the Founder and Principal of THRIVE, a teaching, speaking, and coaching ministry that engages people to flourish as fully alive human beings to God's glory in every arena of their life, journey, and culture. The seeds for Matt's vision were planted when he studied at L'Abri in Huémoz, Switzerland with Francis Schaeffer, who introduced him to the writings of the late Hans Rookmaaker, an art historian known for proclaiming, "Jesus didn't come to make us Christian; Jesus came to make us fully human." A graduate of Wheaton College and Reformed Theological Seminary, Matt is the author of Life with a Capital L: Embracing Your God-Given Humanity. He and his wife, Arlene, are the grateful parents of three adult sons and two daughters-in-law and they divide their time between Colorado Springs and Orlando. He can be contacted through his website, mattheard.org.

According to a recent poll published in Reason magazine, trust in American political parties is at an historic low. For the first time, more than 50 percent of Americans now identify as Independent, as opposed to Republican or Democrat.

And, of course, it's not just political parties that are targets of our growing skepticism. Trust in societal institutions across the board has been on the decline for years. For example, the American people have shrinking confidence in the media, in big tech, and in Congress. Even confidence the historically popular institutions, such as law enforcement and the military, is on the decline. Three years ago, civilian trust in the military stood at a whopping 70 percent. Today, that number has dropped to 56 percent.

What's the story here? As one scholar put it, "This is not just the events of the past 12 months." It's a trend.

At least part of the reason is an overall disorientation and fear in the general population. Any sort of traditional consensus has now receded in our collective memory. Such a shared consensus offers stability and consistency, but, now, no new governing paradigm or worldview has replaced what has been cast aside.

Also, various offspring of postmodernism, such as critical theory, have slipped the surly bonds of academic culture to become defining features of popular culture. The portrayal of everything and everyone as only motivated by the acquisition and preservation of power erodes trust. And a growing number of Americans are now constantly looking over their shoulders for the cancel culture police.

Perhaps the primary reason we have distrust for institutions is that so many institutions have earned it. Simply put, they've failed us – Politicians who change their principles at the drop of the hat; journalists who play fast and loose with the truth; Hollywood, sports, and political icons fallen to scandal; couples who said "till death do we part" finding various escape clauses; not to mention, pastors and ministry leaders indulging in corruption or turning a blind eye to those who do.

This is a time for one of my favorite anecdotes. After a particularly embarrassing loss in the playoffs, the legend goes, Hall of Fame football coach Vince Lombardi started the next season by holding up a pigskin and saying to his Green Bay Packers, "Gentlemen, this is a football." Maybe the best way for the Church to regain the trust of the world is to go back to basics.

Christ's first words in the Gospels were straightforward, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Paul seemed to assume that caring for the poor was a given for the Christian life. James's definition of true religion was that it was a lived, not merely spoken, reality where Christians should "visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." To quote another of my favorite anecdotes, this one from an old friend from Tennessee, "It ain't rocket surgery, man."

Chuck Colson called this the Church being the Church. In an age of failing institutions, the opportunities are incredible for those who reject both a privatized, pietistic faith and the temptation to be a rootless activist group. Now is the time to take seriously the tasks of living out the Gospel, being what Paul called "ministers of reconciliation." What that might look like could be different for different churches in different contexts. It may mean maximizing the use of church facilities, offering medical clinics or food pantries. It will certainly mean defending the weak and vulnerable, especially the victims of our culture's bad ideas, and supporting those Christian organizations that do.

A former colleague used to say, "The Church is God's Plan A and there is no Plan B." Taking that calling seriously will require, at the very least, a "this is a football" moment for Christians. The task of re-catechizing Christians in a Christian view of life and the world is essential. The Church certainly has things to offer the wider culture that no other social institution does. We'll need to be clear on what is different about the Church, beginning with the Christian understanding of the human person and human dignity.

Who humans are, nothing less than an image bearers of God, is not only a fundamental distinction of a Christian worldview, but finding ways to communicate and apply it will be critical to our cultural witness. We'll spend this year's Wilberforce Weekend, May 21-23 in Fort Worth, looking at the idea image of God and fleshing out how it can shape our approach to the world around us. For a full schedule, with speakers and topics, including our Friday intensive on what it means to image God as male and female, visit wilberforceweekend.org.

John Stonestreet and Maria Baer discuss the top events impacting culture this week.

They highlight the recent, horrible shootings in Atlanta and dig into the various narratives by people making sense of the situation, including those which blame evangelicals.

Maria then comments on the border crisis, pointing to the humanitarian concerns specifically impacting young people. John and Maria offer a Christian perspective to support both children and parents as the crisis is likely to grow in the coming weeks. Finally, Maria shares her gratitude for a number of virtues that make the United States a blessed place to live, while John alludes to line from Chuck Colson to guide our attention as we understand the privilege of living in America.

To close, Maria introduces a story on a new "Zionist Congress" being established by young Jews who are facing persecution. John and Maria both comment on the spiritual component of racism that is impacting our country.

Finally, John highlights the inspirational story that led Dick Hoyt to run marathons over the course of four decades with his son. Dick passed away this week at eighty-years-old. Maria shares a family tradition of honoring Passover with a recommendation for audience members to participate in a Seder meal.

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Resources

Join us at the 2021 Wilberforce Weekend, May 21-23!

"Curating Beauty," the Strong Women Podcast with guest Ashley Marsh

"Anti-Semitism: The Oldest Hatred," by John Stonestreet and Maria Baer, BreakPoint

"A New Zionist Congress Is Born," by Blake Flayton, Tablet

"Inspirational Boston Marathon dad Dick Hoyt dies at 80 after 4 decades of races with his son," ABC News

"Strongest Dad in the World," by Rick Reilley, Sports Illustrated

A Passover explainer and recipes: https://mjaa.org/passover/

A Messianich Haggadah: https://www.amazon.com/Messianic-Jewish-Passover-Haggadah-Celebrating/dp/0917842081/ref=sr_1_13?dchild=1&keywords=messianic+haggadah&qid=1616167431&s=books&sr=1-13 Passover and it's NT connections: https://jewsforjesus.org/jewish-resources/jewish-holidays/passover/

Recently, especially as a response to the revelations of particularly egregious misconduct by Ravi Zacharias, and even abuse, we've been warned away from saying anything akin to "There, but for the grace of God, go I." What is, to some an admission that, as my colleague Shane Morris has put it, everyone is made of the same clay, is, to others, excuse-making cloaked in faux humility. To them, it suggests that sexual sin, even the most terrible kind, is inevitable for men, so we shouldn't expect any better. Or to put it differently, if only God's grace stands between us and horrific sin, we don't need to take responsibility for avoiding sinful behavior. In the end, it's up to God, and, in the end, the horror suffered by victims is downplayed.

Though none of these things is, in our view, necessarily implied by saying "there but for the grace of God go I," the concerns are valid if for no other reason than an observation Chuck Colson often made. "There is no limit to the human capacity for self-rationalization." Even our admissions of guilt can be, he knew, attempts to rationalize our behavior.

Still, there is an important truth about our propensity for sin no matter which slogan we use. In fact, the Bible repeats this in various ways. Proverbs 4 says, "The way of the wicked is deep darkness; they do not know over what they stumble." In other words, we can surprise ourselves with our sin. After all, our "hearts are deceitful above all things," the prophet said, "and desperately wicked. Who can know it?"

The Bible is full of this wisdom. At the same time, these verses are not excuses. It's precisely because our own sin can so surprise us, that we should be cautious and beg God for protective grace, even to the point of metaphorically cutting off our limbs and gouging out our eyes, should it come to that.

In recent weeks, we've learned of abuse committed on a staggering scale, but it didn't come from nowhere. It came from a long-term trajectory of compromises made possible by a perfect storm of failures – of accountability, of honesty, of tolerating, hiding, and abetting temptation. It is a gift of God that so few of us are in such a position to commit evil on this scale.

I doubt that anyone who says "there, but for the grace of God, go I" is suggesting they're mere inches away from doing the exact same thing as we've learned about Ravi Zacharias. That's because it's doubtful that anyone intends to sin on a grand scale.

Back in the age of Saturday morning cartoons and "Just Say No!" public service commercials, there was one ad where, as the screen flashed images of a down-and-out drug addict, the announcer would proclaim, "No one dreams of becoming a junkie." In the same way, spouses who decide to cheat are often already unfaithful in their internal trajectory. Great sins are often the product of many little decisions and are driven by internal rebellions that are finally offered opportunity. King Solomon might be the best example of all (see 1 Kings 10-11).

Acknowledging that our nature is fallen and susceptible to such compromise is a wise thing to do, especially when mixed with asking for God's grace. One of Jesus' last and most urgent commands to His disciples was for them to pray that they would not fall into temptation. The same request is a central part of how Christ taught all of His followers to pray in the Lord's Prayer.

In other words, while not every sin may be expressly inevitable, each is possible. We are capable of it. To think otherwise is to sound an awfully lot like Peter, "Lord, I would never deny you." Every fallen human being is at least capable of many evils, even the unthinkable ones.

If we are to accept our capacity to surprise even ourselves by the depth of our own depravity, we may need to deny ourselves things we'd like to have. Cutting off our limbs may mean some men or women shouldn't be in leadership, or shouldn't travel as much as they do, or shouldn't take that promotion, or accept that new job, or buy that new toy, or stay on Twitter.

Where the rubber of "there, but for the grace of God, go I" meets the road is in understanding the depth of our sinful capabilities and in bearing the responsibility of making arrangements to avoid it. There but for the grace of God go any of us. It's true. We still have to grip that grace, from moment to moment, for dear life.

In his remarkable autobiography, Confessions, St. Augustine famously wrote, "Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee." Solomon talked of God "putting eternity in our hearts." In other words, as John Calvin observed, humans are "incurably religious creatures."

Though millions of Americans have given up on organized religion and a growing number now declare themselves as "nones" (in other words, no spiritual affiliation), these observations by Solomon, John Calvin, and St. Augustine remain true. In fact, our religious impulse is so strong, even the New York Times has noticed some new places where it is showing up. The vast majority of those who have fled the church, argued millennial author Leigh Stein in an article last week, haven't become less-religious at all. Rather, many (especially women) have embraced new belief systems, often led by self-appointed social media gurus who preach self-care, left-wing activism, and New Age spirituality, maybe with a side of herbal supplements.

Instagram "Influencers" such as Glennon Doyle and Gwyneth Paltrow have won millions of followers with their personal growth advice and positive thinking. Though the packaging is updated, Stein pointed out, they're using the same old formula as televangelists. These "Instavangelists" (her word, not mine) don't talk as much about God, but they employ the same me-centric business model.

It was in 2017, Stein claims, that she "began noticing how many wellness products and programs were marketed to women in pain," and how the social media industry would stoke moral outrage but fail to offer a worldview big enough to handle it. This, in turn, became a business opportunity for the internet gurus. Some specialized in call-out culture and others in self-help cures, but all insisted that the answers to our problems lie within us if only, like little gods, we assert our desires and moral intuitions as absolute.

Self-worship in any form, however, is a recipe for spiritual restlessness. After all, we make terrible gods, and we know it, especially in our more honest moments.

The women that millions have chosen as moral leaders, Stein argues, "aren't challenging us to ask the fundamental questions that leaders of faith have been wrestling with for thousands of years: Why are we here? Why do we suffer? What should we believe in beyond the limits of our puny selfhood?"

"We're looking," she continues, "for guidance in the wrong places, instead of helping us to engage with our most important questions, our screens might be distracting us from them. Maybe," she finishes, "we actually need to go to something like a church?"

For those of us who do go to church, this may seem obvious. But, for a writer who admits to seldom praying to God, this is a remarkable realization. As St. Augustine himself would attest, no one is more vulnerable to the truth than when they've seen all that the world has to offer and ask, "Is this it?"

At the same time, a very different self-help guru seems to have come to that realization, recently. In a podcast with Orthodox iconographer Jonathan Pageau, clinical psychologist and bestselling author Jordan Peterson all but admitted, in remarkable and tearful words describing the limits of his intellectual capacity to understand, that God is breaking down the door of his heart.

As a disciple of Carl Jung, Peterson has long treated Christianity as a useful myth in which people can find meaning. Yet, through personal struggles and dialogue with Christians, he admits to wanting to believe (and maybe in some sense to actually believe) that this Jesus story is true. "I probably believe (in Christ)," Peterson said, "but I'm amazed at my own belief and I don't understand it."

Both the trajectory (outward not inward) and posture (teachable not entitled) of Peterson's search stands in stark contrast to Instavangelism, and it raises tough questions for those leaving organized religion behind. With what will you replace it? What's big enough to fill the God-shaped hole in your heart? If Christianity isn't the true story of the world, is there an alternative?

If Stein and Peterson and, for that matter, Augustine are right, these alternative religions will never satisfy the human impulse to worship. At least not for very long.

John answers listener questions related to using gender pronouns, responding to employer terminology in assisted suicide, and considering statistics for support in defending marriage and parenting structures.

During the pandemic, the world learned that some British doctors placed "Do Not Resuscitate" orders on COVID-19 patients with intellectual disabilities. These orders reflected a tendency across Western culture to commodify human life, valuing people based on extrinsic abilities and appearances rather than assuming inherent value for all who are part of the human family. As a result, the disabled are not deemed as valuable as the non-disabled. To be clear, the pandemic didn't cause this way of seeing those with disabilities, it only revealed it and worsened it.

For example, a recent story at NBC News reported that denying organ transplants to people with Down syndrome and autism "is common in the United States, even though it is illegal under the Americans with Disabilities Act." According to one study, 44 percent of organ transplant centers will not add people with developmental disorders to their transplant list. Eighty-five percent "consider the disability as a factor in deciding whether to list the child." That's against ADA policy.

One reason given to defend this discrimination is that someone with Down syndrome "may not be able to comply with post-transplant requirements, such as taking immunosuppressive drugs." This "reason" doesn't pass the laugh test. The intellectually disabled are usually, as several of my colleagues will attest, perfectly capable of taking their meds on schedule without assistance. Those who are aren't have guardians and caretakers who can ensure they comply.

Another reason given for leaving individuals with disability off transplant lists is far more sinister. These patients are, some clinics claim, "more likely to have co-occurring conditions that would make a transplant dangerous" and "the patient's quality of life would be unlikely to improve with a transplant."

On one hand, as a report from the National Council on Disabilities found, these worries are unfounded. Though some disabled people do have co-occurring conditions that make transplant surgery dangerous, most don't. And patients with intellectual disabilities can benefit from transplants as much as any other patient.

The real story behind this discrimination, in fact, can be summed up in the phrase "a patient's quality of life," a phrase that has been used throughout history, but especially recently, to promote various forms eugenics. After all, providing people with "less-worthy lives" with a transplant is to waste a perfectly good organ that could go to someone more "valuable." Already, as NBC noted, more than 100,000 people are on the waiting list for organs nationwide. The average wait times, even after a patient makes the list, can be three-to-five years. Hopefully, new technologies such as printable organs will soon be available, but until then, rationing is necessary. So, shouldn't the organs go to the "best of us?"

Of course, no one puts it like this. To do so would expose the lethal logic at work behind leaving people with intellectual disabilities off the list. Instead, we hear things about disabled people not "benefitting" from a transplanted organ, which is absurd. A new heart beats and circulates blood. This is true regardless of the person's intellectual capacity.

Today, 16 states ban this kind of discrimination, with similar measures pending in eight other states and in Congress. Still, these laws face an uphill battle, even if passed. As the head of the National Council on Disabilities admitted, the real goal of these laws is to inspire "a change of heart so people understand that they are discriminating."

So, even as we support the legal efforts to prevent this discrimination, we remember that the best protection for people with disabilities is to recover the idea of the Imago Dei. When people cease seeing themselves and others as image-bearers, they see people as means and not ends, as units of utility to us and to society.

This is why we have chosen "restoring the Imago Dei" as the theme of this year's Wilberforce Weekend. For three days, May 21-23, in Dallas/Fort Worth, we will be exploring how to apply this principle to our cultural moment. I hope you can join us. Come to WilberforceWeekend.org to learn more and to register.

In nearly every sector of society—media, education, medicine, public policy, even sports—children are now subjects of social experimentation. As fundamental realities of life such as sex, marriage, and parenting are reimagined, we say to ourselves, "Oh, the kids will be fine." Overwhelming evidence suggests they aren't.

At the same time, too many churches and too many Christians, often jaded by Christian activism either poorly done or poorly received (or both), have moved to the sidelines. At times, this move has been away from the social implications of the Gospel, focusing instead on personal transformation and privatized faith. Other times, this move has been simple compromise on moral issues, out of a misplaced attempt to be nice and "welcoming."

This indifference to our culture's widespread exploitation of children, places these churches and these Christians firmly outside Church history. Time and time again, across cultures and time periods, those who brought the Gospel to pagan cultures found themselves defending and protecting abandoned, abused, and victimized children.

One of the great missionary heroes of Church history is a clear example. Amy Carmichael was born in 1867 to devout parents in Ireland. By 1895, after already serving as a missionary in Japan and Ceylon, Carmichael devoted herself to bringing the Gospel to South India.

Immediately, Carmichael started wrestling through the idea of contextualization, how best to present the Gospel in that cultural setting. For example, unlike most missionaries at the time, Amy wore the same clothes as the local population. She travelled with a group of Indian women converts known as the Starry Cluster and would tell anyone, regardless of caste, (another cultural reality) about God's love. Many women fleeing slavery and prostitution in Indian temples came to Christ because of her teaching.

One day, a young girl named Preena, who had been sold as a temple slave by her widowed mother and literally branded when she tried to run away, listened as Amy Carmichael told of God's love. Preena ran away again, this time to Amy's house.

Amy knew that if she took Preena in, she could be charged with kidnapping. However, she also knew to send Preena back would mean further beatings or even death. Driven by the truth of the gospel, Amy welcomed Preena into her home.

This led Amy to begin began studying the caste system in more detail. She learned that children were often dedicated to the gods and left at temples to be slaves and child prostitutes. Horrified, she dedicated the rest of her life to fighting these abuses.

As word spread, children and teenagers who had run away from temples began to show up at her door. Soon, Amy was looking after almost 50 people. So, she moved all of them to the city of Dohnavor and established the Dohnavor Fellowship, a home for former child prostitutes.

In 1901, Amy was taken to court by infuriated Hindu priests. Still, Amy continued to provide a home for any child who came to her for help, and the priests' lawsuit was ultimately dismissed. In 1918, she added a home for boys, many former temple prostitutes. Throughout her life, Amy Carmichael took in over 1,000 children, giving each one a new home, renewed hope, and even a new name.

In 1931, Amy had a serious accident and broke both her leg and her ankle, and badly injured her hip and back. This, combined with neuralgia, effectively left Amy bedridden for the rest of her life. As a result, she led the Dohnavor Fellowship from her bedroom.

In 1948, largely because of Amy's work, child prostitution was outlawed in India. Three years later, Amy died at the age of 83. At her request, no stone marked her burial place. Instead, the children she had saved erected a birdbath over her grave, engraved with the word Amma, which means "Mother."

The parallels between what children faced in that pagan culture and what children face in our pagan culture is obvious. In both contexts, children are sacrificed to sexual ideologies, and forced to serve the desires of adults. In both contexts, anyone who resists faces significant social pressures, even political penalties. One difference is that Carmichael didn't think that standing for children would be an impediment to telling people about the love of God. On the contrary, she believed it was an essential part of serving Christ in that pagan culture.

Today, you can join Carmichael and others from Christian history by making a Promise to America's Children, pledging to protect the minds, bodies, and the most important relationships of children. And then, learn all the ways children are being victimized and how the church can help, by reading Them Before Us: Why We Need a Global Children's Rights Movement, a vital new book by Katy Faust. Them Before Us is the featured resource from the Colson Center this month.

Cheryl Bachelder shared at the Time of Guided Prayer last week. She spoke on the importance of Proverbs 31, remembering a Proverbs 31 woman who made a significant impact on Cheryl's life.

This is a special edition of the BreakPoint podcast. Cheryl is the former CEO of Popeyes Louisiana Kitchen, Inc., a multibillion-dollar chain of more than 2,600 restaurants around the world. She has been profiled in the Wall Street Journal, featured on Mad Money, and received top industry awards. She had prior leadership positions at Yum! Brands, Domino's Pizza, RJR Nabisco, the Gillette Company, and Procter & Gamble. Today, Cheryl serves on boards, mentors CEOs, and invests in philanthropy.

A recent four-day visit by Pope Francis to Iraq was bound to attract attention, given that he is the Pope and Iraq is, well, Iraq. Some of the media coverage, however, demonstrated just how little the press "gets religion." In one especially funny and now-deleted example, CNN referred to the Vatican as the "Holly Sea," instead of the "Holy See."

Still, this visit was full of meetings that mattered, such as the Pope's meeting with the Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, the leader of the Shiites in Iraq. This meeting took place in Najaf in what is called the "Plain of Ur" (yes that Ur, the one where Abraham came from). In a statement issued after the meeting, the Ayatollah affirmed "his concern that Christian citizens [of Iraq] should live like all Iraqis in peace and security, and with their full constitutional rights."

That would be a welcome development given the suffering Iraqi Christians have faced at the hands of their Muslim neighbors. About two-thirds of Iraqis identify as Shia Muslims so, if their leader can persuade them that Christians belong and deserve the same rights they have, it could make a significant difference.

The Pope's visit also focused much-needed attention on the plight of one of the oldest and most-vulnerable Christian communities in the world. The antiquity of this Christian community is apparent in a name: "Chaldean Catholic Church" (yes, that "Chaldean," as in "Ur of the Chaldeans," from the book of Genesis. Around 70-80 percent of all Iraqi Christians belong to this particular group, which traces its origin to the Apostle Bartholomew. Its distinctive historical identity is well-attested all the way back to the early-to-mid third century, and its liturgy is conducted in Syriac, a dialect of Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke. These Christians begin their remembrance of Lent with what is called the "Fast of Nineveh," which commemorates the repentance and fast of that ancient city as told in the Book of Jonah.

For these Christians, the biblical account is more than familiar. It's something akin to family lore. Still, in addition to their close connections with ancient history, they model faithfulness and perseverance.

Iraq, like so much of the Middle East, is mostly Islamic. Since the early 7th century, this Christian community has experienced oppression at the hands of Muslim rulers. The severity and nature of this oppression varied, converting to Islam would have made their lives much easier. But they didn't.

Despite their oppression, these Christians have made significant contributions to their society. They were the ones who translated Greek texts on science, math, and philosophy into Arabic. Thus, in a way, Chaldean Christians made Islam's often-heralded contributions in these areas possible.

Recent events in the region have nearly accomplished what 14 centuries of Islamic oppression couldn't. Iraq's Christians are, as the Archbishop of Irbil put it in 2019, "perilously close to extinction." At the time, he was specifically referring to the threat of ISIS, but the dispersion of Iraqi and other Middle Eastern Christians had begun long before and with them went "the culture and wealth which flowed from" the Christian presence.

Hopefully, the Grand Ayatollah's statement will make a difference. Meanwhile, the community's way of life is providing a compelling witness of the power of the Gospel. A mother who had lost her son to ISIS told Pope Francis, "Our strength undoubtedly comes from our faith in the Resurrection, a source of hope. My faith tells me that my children are in the arms of Jesus Christ our Lord. And we, the survivors, try to forgive the aggressor, because our Master Jesus has forgiven his executioners. By imitating him in our sufferings, we testify that love is stronger than everything."

Her words left Pope Francis, as he put it, "speechless." Not only should we pray for our brothers and sisters in Iraq; we should watch them and learn what we can about faithful perseverance and reliance on the risen Christ. We may be put to the test ourselves, soon enough.