The Cult at Westboro

Part of me hates to dignify the Westboro Cult with a blog post, but in light of the tragedy in Connecticut, the Mephistophelian fringe of Topeka has resurfaced, grinding on American consciousness. The inconsistencies between Westboro’s message and biblical Christianity are immediately evident, and much tedious effort could be given to their ill-informed use of scripture. But more fundamental errors are at work in Westboro.

The most observable trait of the group is its inflammatory speech, which by definition is designed to arouse anger and hostility. This seems to be completely antithetical to the rules of engagement exemplified by the Apostles. Paul wrote in Colossians 4:6, “Your speech should always be gracious, seasoned with salt.”

There’re generally two types of discourse on either side of controversy, seditious and conciliatory, both with different outcomes. One produces strife, the other curiosity. If Westboro had any God-ordained mission to win converts, they would heed Proverbs 16:21 which reminds us, “pleasant speech increases learning.”

But it’s not only the tenor of Westboro’s rhetoric that’s problematic, but also the content of their rant, or lack thereof. Not the faintest resemblance of the biblical gospel can be found in Westboro’s message, but rather they rail almost solely against homosexuality. They fail to communicate enough doctrine to even be accused of preaching a false gospel. As a result, there message only qualifies as the hateful raving of misguided souls, led by the Enemy himself. Truly a tragic masquerade.

Westboro is also unwilling to entertain offers of correction. Their website reportedly says, “Zero is the number of nanoseconds of sleep we lose over the opinions of others.” Being willfully unteachable is a dangerous state, even for true believers. Proverbs 19:27 says, “If you stop listening to instruction, my son, you will stray from the words of knowledge.”

So what needs to be said? Numbers 14:18 says, “The Lord is slow to anger and rich in faithful love, forgiving wrongdoing and rebellion. But He will not leave the guilty unpunished.”

Yes, God is good. He is so good, He will punish evil. If a man who breaks the law comes before a judge, and that judge fails to bring justice to bear upon the situation, he would be considered a poor judge. God is a perfect judge, and will bring perfect justice to bear upon the sin of mankind, which includes us all.

Yet, there is another dimension of God’s goodness which is displayed in His mercy. God offers the sinner forgiveness on the grounds that He himself provided a means for justice to be done. The message of Christmas is God becoming a man. This Jesus Christ lived the sinless life we should have lived, a life of perfect trust in the Father. Then He died on the cross, receiving in Himself all the Father’s wrath for our sins. Three days later, Jesus rose from the dead, displaying the sufficiency of His sacrifice to appease Divine justice, therefore validating His offer of mercy to the weary sinner.

“Therefore repent and turn back, that your sins may be wiped out so that seasons of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord,” Acts 3:19.

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Where I Learned Courage

The Oklahoma town crawled with a population of eight-hundred. Some enjoyed small town living, others tolerated it, and yet others didn’t know any different. One woman, navigating life a couple of clicks south of garden-variety dysfunction, shared low-income housing on the north side with a man her boys simply referred to as “him.”

Three years into her two-year degree, nursing textbook in her lap, wrestling with concepts and terminology foreign to a woman twenty years out of high school. Her chair was part of a matching living room suite which brought comments from his relatives, “He must really love you.” And now he and his brother towered over her, demanding her financial-aid.

The worst kind of abuse lingered in her past, and few understood the scope of its defilement, tainting every choice of employment, friendship, and romantic interest. Enrolling in junior college already called for a paradigm shift in her thinking about the future, and dropping out would only cement her legacy as a victim.

These defining moments aren’t made by the converging of events upon a point in time, but rather they leap into existence on the heels of a choice. Choices are generally mundane, but those that defy precedent come with risks, and sometimes violence. They challenge the status quo, forging a new standard, leaving behind the inescapable and lunging for the impossible.

She averted her eyes back to her studies and answered softly, “I can’t do that.” Such a refusal normally meant ignorance. But she knew him. The length of the next moment allowed the danger to become a tangible force in the room, but this night something else was present as well. Courage.

Breaking from years of conditioning and complex senses of self-preservation is wrought with fear. She may have feared him, or she may have feared leaving familiarity, but I suspect she had a revived fear of the Lord. For the courage to turn from such night comes from the dawning of conviction.

Mom finished her nursing degree when I was in boot camp and soon moved out. She has continued to display great courage right up to this day.

Reflections on Grief and Revelation

When someone close to us dies, they rarely fade from our lives, allowing us to grieve in manageable increments. Instead, it’s often a violent tearing, for death knows nothing of gentleness, nothing of grace, and nothing of our desperate bargaining. And like Martha we say, “Lord, if only you had been here…”

If only the Healer had been there, her brother wouldn’t have died, and she and her sister wouldn’t feel as if they were dying as well. And into their anguish Jesus speaks, “Your brother will rise again.”

A grander narrative of scripture culminated in a resurrection of the dead. Martha knew this. It lingered in the consciousness of many Jews, but Jesus was speaking of something a bit more imminent and much more revealing, as He states, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

The point is inescapable. There are depths of understanding achieved only when pain and grief are brought to bear on the human heart, for the deepest truths of Christ’s identity are never more relevant than when death is present.

Jesus explains, “The one who believes in Me, even if he dies, will live.” The Lord applies his identity directly to Martha’s grief over the physical death of her brother, but then Jesus reveals truth deeper still. “Everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die—ever.”

Just as physical death is a shadow of the greater reality of spiritual separation from the living God, Jesus’ raising of Lazarus would foreshadow a greater resurrection to a life that would span eternity.

The concept of forever-ness brings profound considerations, for when the pebble of momentary experience is dropped into the ocean of eternity, one’s perspective gains alarming clarity. Yet, despite these philosophically daunting themes, the question posed by Jesus is simply, “Do you believe this?” The act of believing is relational. For the One offering life without death could only have love as a motivation, and Martha’s act of believing moves the relationship forward.

Martha was feeling the pain of loss, and Jesus’ offer was simply more of Himself, for she no longer knew Jesus as a mere healer, but as the Son of God. She learned this as she hurt, and I wonder if she whispered Job 42:5, “I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear, But now my eye sees You.”

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