Book Review: Believe Me

I had seen John Fea's book, Believe Me: The Evangelical Road to Donald Trump (2018), featured on Eerdman's Facebook and Twitter feeds. I had never heard of him, but there was enough present in those short social media posts to intrigue me. Fea is an evangelical and chair of the history department at Messiah College in Pennsylvania, a historian who writes about "the intersection of American history, religion, politics, and academic life" (from his blog), no doubt appropriate preparation for writing a book of this sort.

In Believe Me, Fea explores Donald Trump's popularity among American evangelicals--81% of them anyway. Along the way, he addresses the inconsistencies that many conservative religious leaders have demonstrated over time in their responses to different presidents, Clinton and Trump, for example, giving an unlimited pass to one while wanting to burn the other at the stake. Fea shared this example from a 1998 letter from James Dobson (a Trump supporter) questioning Clinton's morality: "As it turns out character DOES matter. You can't run a family, let alone a country, without it. How foolish to believe that a person who lacks honesty and moral integrity is qualified to lead a nation and the world! Nevertheless, our people continue to say that the President is doing a good job even if they don't respect him personally. Those two positions are fundamentally incompatible. In the book of James, the question is posed 'Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring?' (James 3:11, NIV). The answer is no." In my opinion, those who fail to see the hypocrisy in this statement are blind.

When Fea wrote of "the evangelical politics of fear," I resonated with the phrase. I think he is right when he suggests that fear drives many of the political viewpoints and voting practices among evangelicals. We place our hope not in God, the All-Sovereign, but in compromised earthly powers, especially those who tell us what to be afraid of and how they are the only ones who can fix it. The fear-mongering is reminiscent of Richard Dreyfuss's Senator Rumson in 1995's The American President. I was grateful that Fea is a historian; he was able to trace the roots of these fears to the 17th century up into the 21st century, with particular attention to the civil rights movement.

His thoughts on Trump's slogan, "Make America Great Again," were also beneficial. He commented that as a historian, he was less interested in the definition of great than what Trump means by the word again. To what era is Trump referring? And from whose perspective? It remains nebulous. Fea rightly draws the distinction between history and nostalgia, noting that "nostalgia is closely related to fear." Fea writes, "Sometimes evangelicals will seek refuge from change in a Christian past that never existed in the first place. At other times they will try to travel back to a Christian past that did exist--but, like the present, was compromised by sin."

In his conclusion, Fea calls evangelicals to three things: hope, not fear; humilty, not power; and history, not nostaligia.

I found Believe Me to be an insightful, timely book and I cannot recommend it highly enough. Unfortunately, I suspect most of the 81% will not even consider reading it; it's something that Trump would quickly dismiss as "fake news." As Americans, we tend to prefer political propaganda propagated by Twitter, Facebook, and our preferred news networks than actually digging in, with humility, to consider what might be true. As Christians, whose primary citizenship is in an eternal kingdom, we cannot afford to do this any longer.

I cannot think of a better way to conclude this book than with the quote that first intrigued me: "The Court Evangelicals have decided that what Donald Trump can give them is more valuable than the damage their Christian witness will suffer because of their association with the president."

This is a really important book. Believe me.

Surviving the Rapids

For reasons unknown to me, rivers have been on my mind recently.  I have spent the past week or so trying to craft an essay about rivers, though my wandering thoughts never went anywhere of consequence. This weekend, through a series of circumstances, the topic emerged. 

I spent the latter part of the week in anticipation of a "surprise date" that Heather had been carefully planning.  Come Saturday morning, I discovered that she had arranged to borrow kayaks from our friends Mike and Kellie.  She, typically the less adventurous of us, was eager to attempt something brand new.

We arrived at the river and went through a few last minute preparations.  I excitedly readied my kayak, eager to push out into the fast-moving water.  I intended to use the life preserver as a back rest though my wife, who is either more cautious or simply wiser, encouraged me to wear it.  I obliged. 

As I paddled out, 25 feet from shore, I capsized--separated not only from my glasses, cap, and water bottle, but also from the paddle and the kayak itself.  I panicked.  The water was moving toward the dam a half-mile downstream much faster than I had anticipated.  I did not know what to do.  I wanted to save the kayak and the paddle, but my mind was racing faster than the river.  Thankfully, Heather who so commonly serves as my ballast, yelled at me, "Calm down!" She reminded me that I was wearing the life preserver she had exhorted me to put on.  Thanks be to God, I calmed down; swam, crosscurrent, to shore, and apart from embarrassment, was left unscathed. 

Sometimes, in the river of life, the current quickens.  In those times it is easy to fear the worst, to lose sight of shore, and to forget that you are wearing a life preserver.  My life has often been a meandering stream, though at other times, I have faced rapids.  In those tumultuous times, God's word has been my life preserver.  He has provided friends and family who encourage me not to panic because I have God and His word.  In the midst of the swirling waters of life, he has reminded me that having more stuff or being respected are just incidentals that can go over the dam without a second thought. 

The future is uncertain. Life may be a lazy river now, though it often becomes a roaring rapids.  No matter how the water appears now, follow the wisdom my wife shared and put on your life preserver before you even push out from shore. 

Grant Me Pauline Boldness

This morning, I read an excellent essay by Tim Challies entitled I Failed Him. It is an essay about his failure to share the Gospel with a man who is hours, perhaps days, from death.

Challies wrote, "So now I sit here at the time when it is too late, wondering why I did not do more. Sure I told the family that I was praying for them and asked if I could pray with them. And sure I tried to get Mike to think about preparing for eternity. But I did so in such a pathetic way. Such a half-hearted way. I burn with shame as I write these words thinking of all I didn’t do and didn't say. I feel burdened with guilt that Mike is days or maybe even hours away from standing before God, and that I did not make one clear, strong presentation of the gospel. I failed him. And I failed God."

As I read these words, I was convicted. I felt that internal tug that so often shows up when I read words like these. I was reminded that God commands me to share the Good News of Jesus Christ with the world. But then doubt crept in, as it always does. Doubt not in my God, but in myself. In my ability to "package" the gospel; to present it in a way that people will respond.

On a very personal level, this essay hit home today as well. As I read it, I was reminded again to pray for Heather's dad. I have been praying for several years that he would come to know Jesus. I have been praying for just the right time to share the Gospel with him, hoping that in the mean time, my life would somehow lead him to ask me about Jesus. Thus far, it hasn't.

In the late morning, Heather called to tell me that her father had a heart attack and was having surgery. I just kept thinking, "but God, Tim isn't saved yet!" He is now in the ICU and recovering with the expectation that he will go home on Thursday. Already, Satan enters, whispering, "Tim will be fine. Don't worry, you will have lots of time to work on your new marketing campaign. He's going to reject the gospel (i.e., reject you) anyway so why do you want to wreck that relationship? Give him plenty of time to recover. Years, perhaps decades will probably be required."

I pray, yet again, for gospel boldness. I pray that the name of Jesus--not just the less threatening words like God, or religion, or even Christianity--is ever on my lips. I pray that I speak the good news without hesitation. I pray for words that make Jesus look good without caring whether or not I do. I pray that I don't forget that the eternal salvation of those I love is much more important than my temporal comfort.

I pray for the boldness of Paul.

To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak. -Ephesians 6:18-20

Oostburg, Islam, and the Woman at the Well

This is a hard post for me to write. I want to share some recent observations about my hometown, Oostburg, a place I still love and cherish. Much of my family lives there and so do many fond memories. The people of that town love one another fiercely.

Oostburg is a small town on the Western shore of Lake Michigan that was established by Dutch settlers in the 1840s. The community retains its Dutch identity and with that identity comes a strong Calvinistic base. Indeed, all of the churches within the village limits represent various branches of Calvinism. No Catholic churches. No Baptist. No Methodist. It has been this way as long as I remember.

From my perspective, the lack of diversity has often led to suspicion about outsiders. There seems to be a sense that people who do not fit the mold will ruin utopia. People different from the norm have felt marginalized and often judged. As a child growing up there, I was one of the few kids whose parents were divorced. After she divorced my dad, my mom was given the message in no uncertain terms, that she was no longer welcome in the church. She needed compassion... she got judgment. She needed Jesus...she got the Pharisees.

While I was completing my residency, Heather, Grace, and I moved to Oostburg. I was one of Oostburg's sons returning home and was welcomed with open arms. Heather, on the other hand, was an outsider. People looked at her with suspicion. Where did she come from? Who was she? With whom was she connected? Once the connection with me was made, she too was welcomed.

I share these back stories because I want to write about some recent developments in Oostburg. There have been discussions in the works to establish a mosque near Oostburg and the response has been unfortunate, if not predictable. In a story from the Sheboygan Press, they quoted a local pastor from his church's website:

• "Does this group of Muslims denounce violence against Jews, Christians, and other non-Muslims? If so, how much of a paper trail in English and Arabic has the group already written about such matters as 9-11 or the treatment of Jews and Christians in Muslim-majority countries? How much is presently written about these issues on their website? Even more importantly, what kind of accountability will be in place? Will there be a non-Muslim county or village official (that fluently reads and speaks Arabic) who will certify annually that this group is not teaching fundamentalist /terrorist ideologies? If so, who will be paying for this service? Will they seek to have legal exemptions for or special treatment because of their Muslim faith?"

Then follows 28 pages of comments. People from Oostburg defending their way. Others criticizing Oostburg's status quo. Some writers were civil, others were vitriolic. As I read the article and the comments, I wanted to weep. Where was Jesus in these comments? Was all of this bickering what He died for? Was this an example of the great commission?

I think that the story of the woman at the well has much application here (John 4). Jesus was passing through Samaria and stopped at Jacob's well. A Samaritan woman approached and Jesus said to her, "Give me a drink." She was taken aback because Jews did not talk to Samaritans--it was simply not done. She was also a woman, which was another strike against her. It turns out she had been married 5 times and was now living with a man who was not her husband. Another strike. She said to Jesus, "How is it that you, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?"

Then Jesus switched from asking to offering. He told her, "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." In the next paragraph, he revealed himself as the Messiah and offered her salvation. She ran off to tell her people about Christ, leaving behind her water jar in the process. Verse 39 reads, "Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony". Jesus broke tradition. He loved the marginalized.

When Jesus called us to go and make disciples of all nations, he didn't mean countries, he meant people groups. That includes Dutch settlers in Wisconsin and Islamic doctors working in the US. We all need Jesus. Do not refuse a drink to others because of fear. I John 4:18 says, "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear."

If you get a chance, read these passages in their entirety:
John 4
I John 4

Take some time and watch this video as well.

In retrospect

A dear friend emailed today, reminding me that I have been lackadaisical in providing updates about the status of our family. I feel as though we have been at sea in the midst of a storm. During the roughest patches, it seemed as though my sole responsibility was to make sure our small boat stayed afloat. As the storm clears, my first inclination has been to catch my breath and appreciate the break rather than let the people on solid ground know that our vessel is still aright. But here we go.

Heather is now 3-1/2 months post-diagnosis. Things moved rapidly from diagnosis to mastectomy to chemotherapy. In fact today, she completed her 6th of 8 treatments, so we are on the downhill side. From my perspective, her first treatment was the worst and they have progressively improved such that there are days she feels nearly normal. She is much less prone to fatigue and is almost never nauseous now. She lost her hair, which was trying, but she grows more confident day by day. Having cancer has given us an open platform to share our faith. We pray that this experience allows us to share God's word and that it may take root in those who do not know Him.

Tessa has now been home with us six weeks. As I previously wrote, I have been stunned at God's timing and providence. Tessa came home to us much sooner than she should have. Potential road blocks were cleared with ease, which can only be attributed to the power of prayer. Her adjustment to our family has been remarkable. She consistently sleeps through the night, eats well, and seems to genuinely love all of us. When I enter the house after work, her face exudes joy.

Interestingly, as many of you know, despite its relative rapidity, our adoption journey was somewhat circumlocutious. We initially set out to adopt a large sibling group, then considered state special needs adoption, followed by the pursuit of a healthy African-American infant from Alabama, and eventually settling on adopting a child with Down syndrome. We found a description of Tessa (healthy Ethiopian infant, probable mosaic Down syndrome) on a registry and without any additional knowledge felt compelled to pursue her. Early indicators certainly led us to believe she would have delays and likely DS, but within hours of meeting her, it was reasonably evident that she did not. We did have the birth-to-three program perform and evaluation and she seems to be developmentally on target with no hint of DS. She will likely walk soon, has already learned two signs (more and milk), and has a host of verbal sounds.

Grace and Ian have weathered this storm like champions. Grace is about midway through a program called CLIMB a cancer support program for kids. Ian has also been in tow, mostly because they serve good food like McDonalds.

So, on this cold January afternoon, I turn and retrospect over the past several months. My writing demonstrates that I have experienced have experienced a host of emotions. My emotions today are these:

Gratitude. I am deeply grateful for a God who loves me unconditionally and who allowed me to deepen my trust in Him through these few months. I am grateful for a wife who has handled the double shot of breast cancer and a new baby with amazing grace. On my prayer card for Heather, I wrote Proverbs 31:25 at the top, which says, "Strength and dignity are her clothing, she laughs at the time to come." Although there are days she does not feel particularly strong, or dignified, or confident enough to laugh, I see all of those characteristics in her. I am proud to call her my wife. I am grateful for three children who remain steadfast through this storm, unapologetically loving us and each other.

Peace. Though anxieties over every day life still creep in from time to time, I have felt more at peace. At the beginning, looking ahead to the trials, I felt a strong sense of apprehension. I knew I needed the Father, but I did not know what it might feel like to trust Him over time. Could He really help me overcome the difficulties? He patiently carried me along, reminding me that my trust in Him was well-founded and that no matter the outcome of trials, He will be at my side. Today, that leaves me feeling peaceful and confident in His sovereignty.

Joy. Life, in Christ, appears somehow richer to me now. Both loss through cancer and gain through adoption remind me daily that my joy is found in Christ. No matter how deep I may go or how high I may ascend, Christ is there and He is my joy. May that ever be true.

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. -I Thessalonians 5:16-18

You Never Let Go

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
Your perfect love is casting out fear
And even when I’m caught in the middle of the storms of this life
I won’t turn back
I know You are near

And I will fear no evil
For my God is with me
And if my God is with me
Whom then shall I fear?
Whom then shall I fear?

Oh no, You never let go
Through the calm and through the storm
Oh no, You never let go
In every high and every low
Oh no, You never let go
Lord, You never let go of me

And I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
A glorious light beyond all compare
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
We’ll live to know You here on the earth

Yes, I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
Still I will praise You, still I will praise You

Praying Boldly

John 14:13-14--"Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it."

I am scared to write this post. I fear what it says about me because, frankly, it reveals weakness. I struggle with prayer. Specifically, private prayer. I have difficulty with intimacy with my heavenly Father. If an outsider would look at my quiet times, he may see that I desire to know God, but he may wonder if I want God to know me.

Corporately, I have never minded praying. I feel connected with those whom I am praying with and with God, but individually my prayers somehow become apprehensive and awkward. Even when I am able to filter out the intrusive thoughts of a restless mind, many questions enter into my consciousness. "Does God really care about my individual prayers?" "Am I asking for things selfishly?" "Am I praying the right way?" But the question that scares me the most, the one that drives me to tears is this:

"What if I ask for something and God says 'no'?"

Over and over in the book of John (14, 15, 16), Jesus exhorts his disciples to "ask the Father in his name" and "it will be given." That is a bold promise from someone with the power to back it up.

Yet I falter. Those nagging thoughts such as "If the answer is 'no' I must not be faithful enough," "maybe I am not praying right," or "there must be some unconfessed sin keeping this prayer from being answered" assault my assurance.

Recently, I find myself in a place where I am placing an audacious request at the foot of the throne for Heather to be healed completely, but I am also asking God to boost my confidence in His ability to answer my prayers and to deepen my prayer life.

In essence, I am placing my hope in the words of Jesus from John 14--that I ask boldly in Jesus name, that He does it, that His will is done, and that God receives all the glory.

Ephesians 3:20-21 "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." (NIV)