Breakpoint

In just the past decade, the entire Christian understanding of reality has been discarded by the culture: how God made the world, what it means to be human, what marriage means, what sex is for. Everything is on the table.

Which is why today on the BreakPoint Podcast, John Stonestreet is excited to talk with Greg Koukl about the just-released 10th anniversary edition of Koukl’s outstanding book, “Tactics: A Game Plan for Discussing Your Christian Convictions.”

As you will hear on the Podcast, John believes “Tactics” to be one of the best resources ever produced to equip Christians to engage in constructive conversations about faith and the controversial issues of our day.

Tactics: A Game Plan for Discussing Your Christian Convictions, 10th Anniversary Edition, by Greg Koukl

Help BreakPoint and the Colson Center meet our year-end financial goal. Thank you!

John Stonestreet and Shane Morris discuss a recent Wall Street Journal Article that encouraged atheist parents to lie to their kids about the existence of God and the afterlife—in other words, kids need to believe, otherwise, they can’t handle the fear of death. But as John and Shane point out, how do adult atheists cope with life’s difficulties and eventual termination with a worldview that gives them no tools with which to do so.

They also discuss President Trump’s executive order to curb anti-Semitism on America’s college campuses. Where does this evil ideology come from? How is it so persistent, even after the Holocaust? What are the distinctions between religious anti-Semitism and racial anti-Semitism. So many questions, so little time.

Finally, John and Shane debate the proper role of government in controlling the societal scourge of pornography. While John  and Shane see eye to eye on the evils of pornography (sexual trafficking, misogyny, violence, addiction),  Shane takes a more libertarian view of the matter, while John tends to take a more socially conservative view. It’s a can of worms, as John says, but it’s also an important discussion.

One hundred and seventy-four years ago, a British writer was horrified at the conditions under which children were made to labor in tin mines. He decided to write a pamphlet exposing these conditions. His intended title: “An Appeal to the People of England on Behalf of the Poor Man’s Child.”

Thank heavens the writer changed his mind. Instead of a pamphlet, he decided to write a novel making the same points. It’s filled with colorful characters—including an old man who goes about snarling “Bah, Humbug!”

Those two little words instantly reveal what book I’m talking about: “A Christmas Carol,” by the immortal Charles Dickens. The book has never been out of print—and it illustrates why telling a good story is often the best way to communicate our beliefs.

Why does “A Christmas Carol” still resonate today? For the answer, I went to my friend Gina Dalfonzo, editor of Dickensblog. She told me “A Christmas Carol “is a book that “has everything: great sorrow and great joy, corruption and redemption, poverty and pain, hope and love.” And “it expresses the deep belief that even the worst person can change for the better.”

“A Christmas Carol” is not merely a magnificent story, and its message is not confined to a “social gospel” teaching: Dickens points directly to Christ throughout. For example, Scrooge’s nephew, Fred, suggests that perhaps nothing about Christmas can be “apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin.”

And Tiny Tim expresses the hope that when people saw his lameness, “It might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men see.” This is, Gina points out, “a wonderful example of the biblical idea of God’s strength being made perfect in our weakness.”

Dickens' classic shoots down the idea—prevalent in some Christian circles—that reading novels is a waste of time. They seem to forget that Jesus Himself was a master storyteller. For instance, He didn’t just say, “Come to the aid of those who need help.” Instead, He told a vivid story about a Samaritan who rescues a wounded man.

Chuck Colson once said that when it came to learning moral lessons, he was “much more impressed by profound works of fiction than by abstract theological discourses.” Scenes from some of the greatest stories ever told, he said, “have etched moral truths deeply into my soul. Their characters and lessons are so vivid I can’t forget them.”

And that is likely why so many of us will never forget the moral truths told through Ebenezer Scrooge, Fezziwig, Tiny Tim, and all the other memorable characters that populate Dickens' great Victorian tale. It’s why we reject pamphlets that say, “Be nice to the needy” in favor of a good strong character bellowing, “Are there no prisons? [Are there no] workhouses?” Or the ghost of Scrooge’s partner, Jacob Marley, howling, “Mankind was my business!”

 Dickens’ Christmas classic is more popular than ever. There’s a new film about how he came to write “A Christmas Carol,” called “The Man Who Invented Christmas.” And a writer named Samantha Silva has just published a novel titled “Mr. Dickens and His Carol.”

I do hope you’ll take time out to read, or re-read, the original, or read it aloud to your family. Who knows what great good may come of it?

And so I end this piece by saying—and you probably knew it was coming—“God bless us, everyone.”

Belief in God is good for you… and not just in the eternal long run. There’s a powerful link between religious devotion and happiness, mental health, and participation in community.

Earlier this year, Pew Research found that actively religious people report being happier, on average, than both atheists and “nones”—i.e. those who claim no religious affiliation. The religiously observant are also less likely to engage in risky behavior like premarital sex, drinking, and smoking, and more likely by far to join non-religious groups like charities, clubs, and civic associations. In other words, there’s a clear and well-documented connection between an active faith and nearly all of the accepted measures of personal well-being.

And, of course, beyond the belonging, beauty, and moral certainty faith in God brings, religious people enjoy hope in the face of struggle, suffering, and even death.

But what if you don’t actually believe in God? What if you don’t think there is life after death? Can you still enjoy these benefits and, for that matter, pass them on to your kids?

It may sound like a silly question, but psychoanalyst Erica Komisar recently offered a serious answer in the Wall Street Journal. She writes: “I am often asked by parents, ‘How do I talk to my child about death if I don’t believe in God or heaven?’”

Her answer? Lie to them.

She explains: “The idea that you simply die and turn to dust may work for some adults, but it doesn’t help children. Belief in heaven helps them grapple with this tremendous and incomprehensible loss,” especially “[i]n an age of broken families, distracted parents, school violence, and nightmarish global-warming predictions.”

Now, most people who listen to BreakPoint don’t have to worry about the dilemma that Komisar is describing. But there are some atheists and skeptics in our audience. I know because I hear from them. And to any of them considering taking this advice, just know: The Bible is filled with warnings not to put God to the test, or to mock Him.

As C. S. Lewis observes in “The Screwtape Letters,” the Creator of the universe will not be used as a convenience: “Men or nations who think they can revive the Faith in order to make a good society might just as well think they can use the stairs of Heaven as a short cut to the nearest [pharmacy].”

No, atheist parents shouldn’t lie to their kids. They should fall on their knees before the living and very real God and teach their children the truth about who He is and how much He loves them.

Still, Komisar’s advice is more interesting, to me, for what it says about unbelief than what it says about belief. Think about it: Komisar admits that a God-less worldview is inadequate for both navigating life’s deepest sorrows and accounting for life’s highest joys. Shouldn’t the fact that faith in something beyond the bare, material world of atheism is necessary to handle the here and now tell us something?

This idea that our thirst for deeper meaning is a clue about the nature of reality and the meaning of the universe is one C.S. Lewis articulated beautifully, and remember, he was writing in the context of the lows of war and the highs of victory. In Mere Christianity, he argued: “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

If belief in God, in an afterlife, in Heaven, and in meaning that transcends death is so good for children and adults alike, and if it’s necessary to fully make sense of this world, we might consider the possibility that all these things are actually true.

And we should always point our kids to truth, not just because of its practical benefits. After all, one of the greatest rewards of the Christian faith is that our highest joy and the universe’s highest truth are in full agreement.

Many articles this time of year wrangle over the specific details surrounding Christ’s birth—Did it really take place in a stable? Was it really in winter? When did the Magi show up? But the core of the story is unmistakable, because it’s taken straight from the pages of the gospels. And we see it depicted in every nativity scene.

Nativity scenes are so commonplace in December, we can easily forget how much they confront our self-absorbed age.

Kneeling beside the manger is a girl of no status or means who said “yes” to a Divine summons to be a part of the central event in all of history. When confronted with the profound and unexpected gift of being mother to Christ—a burden she would bear not just for nine months but for a lifetime—she accepted. Because of her obedience, our burdens are lifted.

Beside her stands a quiet man, remembered by the world as just and noble because he thought of the good of his betrothed over his own reputation. He gave of himself without reservation to raise the Son of God.

And of course, there’s the babe: Jesus Himself. His self-giving was by far the most profound. Not only did He empty Himself of the glory He had with His Father from eternity, He adopted the form of a servant, bore our infirmities, and ultimately shouldered our guilt on the cross.

I am better able to see the self-giving underpinnings in the nativity story because of a powerful article in the Yale Daily News from over a decade ago. Bryce Taylor, who was (I believe) just nineteen at the time, wrote about the Christmas story and the familiar picture of the manger scene as a critique of our me-first culture.

“Throughout the Christmas narrative,” he observes, “we find as a recurring motif the idea that adversity must be met with self-sacrifice...Mary must bear the shame and unbridled gossip that accompany premarital pregnancy; Joseph must decide either to part with Mary or raise a child who is not his own. Even the wise men, to quote a poem by T. S. Eliot...[must travel through] ‘the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly.’”

Especially at this time of year, we look on all this self-giving—most of all on God’s gift of Himself—with awe and admiration. Even non-Christians see the beauty in this kind of self-sacrifice. Throughout the year, we revere soldiers and firefighters and first-responders, among others, for their self-sacrifice. Yet as Taylor pointed out in his article, the December stampede to consume TVs, gaming systems, and cars clashes with the theme of self-emptying found in the nativity.

Less than a month after the holiday bustle, we annually mark the anniversary of Roe v. Wade, the ultimate assertion of my rights over the lives of others. The contrast between Mary’s “yes” to an unexpected Guest and the “no” of our culture and our judiciary could hardly be sharper, or more deadly.

Yet rather than rehearse the familiar and necessary arguments to be made against abortion, Taylor made a surprising move and appealed to his predominantly secular readers’ sense of beauty.

“Which is more beautiful,” he asks, “more noble, more admirable: the vociferous American woman demanding the right to preserve her body from the intrusion of a baby, or the young Jewish girl in the Christmas story who sacrifices her plans and her reputation in a gesture of openness to the gift of new life? What is more worthwhile: the life that seeks convenience, or the life that accepts the call to sacrifice? Sincere contemplation of the nativity scene yields an unambiguous answer.”

Dostoevsky wrote that “beauty will save the world.” In the self-giving incarnation of God the Son, and all the acts of self-giving that surrounded that first Christmas, we get a glimpse of what he meant.

Each December, the secular world is confronted with nativity scene reminders that life is better than death, that birth is more lovely than abortion, and that sacrifice on behalf of another is more beautiful than ending a life in the name of freedom. And (beauty of beauties!) these scenes proclaim the arrival of the only One who can ever set us free from our own selfishness.

The reminders are simply everywhere.

The Babylon Bee: It's a go-to source for us beleaguered believers who need a chuckle. Or two or three. Today on the BreakPoint Podcast, Shane Morris welcomes the Bee's Editor-in-Chief, Kyle Mann, as they discuss the role satire can play in telling the truth to a culture that no longer believes in truth. What are the Bee's boundaries? At what point can satire go too far? And how do you write satire in an age where truth really stranger than fiction?

Discussions about any controversial topic can be dangerous these days. It’s almost certain someone is going to get upset and maybe lose their cool. It could even end a relationship.

The easiest thing to do is avoid tough conversations altogether. Not every argument or arguer is worthy of our engagement.

But issues and people are worthy of the truth. The stakes are simply too high. C.S. Lewis once said that good philosophy is needed if for no other reason than bad philosophy exists. And I’d add, good answers are needed in our culture if for no other reason than bad answers exist. And there are some topics that must be approached only with truth and love—together.

For instance: “Is abortion justified in the case of rape? Should a rape victim be forced to carry a baby to term?”

We tackle this question in our latest “What Would You Say?” video, a series designed to help you answer our culture’s toughest questions in an understandable, trustworthy, and memorable way.

On this question, we must never forget just how heinous and evil rape is. It may be that our questioner is a victim, and if so, our words alone won’t be enough. It’s a tragic feature of the current abortion debate that pro-abortion advocates so often want to use rape victims in order to advance their cause. That’s something that you and I cannot tolerate, and we should never be guilty of.

Not only should rape victims not be used to advance the cause, they must not be ignored either. And this is exactly where the Church must come in: tending to victims’ emotional, spiritual, medical, family, and financial needs as they bring their babies to term.

With all that said, the truth is the question remains: “What about abortion in cases of rape?” Here’s pro-life apologist Stephanie Gray with a “What Would You Say” response:

Here are three things to remember. First, rape and incest represent a tiny fraction of abortions. Even if abortion could be justified in these rare situations, the vast majority of abortions are in no way justified by these exceptions.

Second, abortion in the case of rape punishes an innocent party. In cases of rape that lead to conception, there are three parties involved: the rapist, the woman, and the child. Which of these three parties is guilty of a crime and deserves to be punished? The woman did nothing wrong. The child did nothing wrong. Only the rapist is guilty. But abortion means that the innocent child is given a punishment that even the guilty rapist won’t face.

In no other situation do we suggest that a child should be punished for their parent’s crimes. In fact, we would never justify the killing of a born child who was conceived by rape. If we wouldn’t punish a child after they are born, why should we punish a child before she is born?

Third, our value as humans is not based on how we are conceived. Some people are conceived in love. Others are conceived in lust. And some, tragically, are conceived in violence.

Regardless of the circumstances, in each case an innocent, unrepeatable, and irreplaceable human being comes into existence. By virtue of being human, they have dignity and rights regardless of how they came to be.

Finally, abortion will not change what happened. Abortion may seem like a way to minimize the pain, but it will not change the past and it cannot make a victim forget what happened.

That’s just part of Stephanie Gray’s thoughtful and helpful answer to one of the most difficult questions of the abortion debate. The entire answer is available at WhatWouldYouSay.org, along with answers to many of the other difficult questions Christians face in today’s culture.

As we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus at Christmas, Shane Morris invites Dr. Alistair Roberts to explain the stunning symmetry in the Gospel narratives between Jesus’ birth and His crucifixion, burial, and resurrection.  Dr. Roberts also explains how reading the Bible typologically can help us see the amazing parallels between the Old Testament and the life of Jesus—much as Jesus must have explained to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, where Jesus, “beginning with Moses and all the prophets, interpreted to them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.”

On Friday, Republican Representative Chris Stewart of Utah introduced the Fairness for All Act, which, as Christianity Today reports, “would prohibit anti-LGBT discrimination in employment, housing, and places of public accommodation, including retail stores, banks, and health care service providers.”

In essence, just like the proposed Equality Act supported by House Democrats, the Fairness for All Act would place sexual orientation and gender identity on par with race and religion as protected classes under the Civil Rights Act.

But there’s a major difference between Fairness for All and the Equality Act. The Fairness for All Act seeks to exempt religious organizations such as churches and nonprofits. So, for example, “Churches wouldn’t be required to host same-sex weddings. Christian schools wouldn’t have to hire LGBT people. Adoption agencies could receive federal funding even if they turned away same-sex couples looking to raise children.”

         As such, Rep. Stewart and supporters of the Fairness for All Act see the bill as balancing religious freedom and LGBT rights.

         Now I believe Fairness for All is a well-intentioned bill. And I believe that its supporters are truly trying to find ways to compromise with LGBT rights in order to preserve our religious liberties in the end.

But this Act is the wrong piece of legislation at the wrong time.

The Act would enshrine into law something that simply is not true, and for Christians that’s got to be a non-starter: that sexual orientation and gender identity are equal to race, that they are somehow immutable, something someone is born with. As my colleague Shane Morris discussed with me on BreakPoint This Week, the “born with” idea is a useful fiction created by the early proponents of the gay-rights movement to win public approval for their cause. They succeeded, of course, but it does not make the fiction any more true.

Second, the Act is addressing a non-issue. Back in the 1960s, the Civil Rights Act addressed a very real problem: There were entire swaths of the country where African Americans couldn’t find a hotel room, buy gas, or get a meal. And so public accommodations were necessary so African Americans could fully participate in society. That most certainly is not the case today with the so-called “sexual minorities.” When two men targeted cakeshop owner Jack Phillips to force him to design a cake for their same-sex wedding, they knew full well that there were plenty of cakeshops nearby that would gladly do what they ask.

This raises another problem with the Fairness for All Act: Its exemptions “would not apply to for-profit businesses with 14 or fewer employees.” In other words, if you’re a Christian business owner, and not a church or a religious non-profit, you’re on the wrong side of the law—outside of the Act’s protections. Meaning Fairness for All isn’t really fairness for all.

         And, as I explained on BreakPoint This Week, this act continues the ghastly idea that people of faith who insist on religious liberty are the bad guys. That they are bigots who need to be “exempted” precisely because they want to deny the rights of others.

         The Fairness for All has its roots in what’s called the Utah Compromise, which was a state measure largely championed by the LDS church. It hasn’t worked in Utah and it’s not a good idea for federal legislation. In fact, these ideas were birthed under a previous presidential administration openly hostile to religious liberty—and when it looked like the next administration would be as well.

But elections matter. Federal courts and the Supreme Court are growing more conservative and more respectful of religious liberty. Now is simply not the time to give up the rights of individual believers in order to preserve the freedoms of religious institutions alone.

Now, do I think the Fairness for All Act will pass? No. Nor does Rep. Stewart. The Democrats hold the House and see no need to compromise at all on LGBT rights and religious rights.

And while there may be a way to truly balance these rights in the future, The Fairness for All Act isn’t it.

John Stonestreet and Shane Morris discuss the "Fairness for All Act," which was introduced into the House on Friday. Despite the Act's name, John and Shane argue that it does not in fact protect the freedoms of all. And no matter how well-intentioned the Act's supporters are in seeking to strike a balance between LGBT rights and religious freedom, the Act gives simply gives away too much.

They also discuss the LGBT movement's vicious attacks on one of its own: Mayor Pete Buttigieg, who dared to ring a bell for the Salvation Army in the past. Will this absolutist insistence on ideological purity backfire? And since when did the organization that cares for more homeless LGBT youth than any other become a sore spot for LGBT advocates? 

Finally, how is it that nearly three quarters of British students have never heard of Mozart? What do we lose when we ignore our civilization's roots--such as classic literature and music?