Christian X’s wife
runs the show, my youthful self noted. Scratch him from my list of potential spiritual
advisors. Christian W has three kids who are off the rails, IMHO. Or at
least they’re not very friendly in youth group. Christian Y’s car is awfully
expensive: obviously too worldly. And Christian Z? Sure, he and his new
wife use that cottage for the Lord, but wouldn’t that money be better invested
in missions? Not to mention that divorce. Can you even be saved and do that?
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Brevity Is the Soul of Something
In my early twenties,
my list of Christians to whom I actually paid attention had gotten a little
truncated. Other people’s domestic arrangements loomed large in my estimation
of their love for the Lord and the value of their teaching and spiritual
advice.
Then I got around to
living life myself, and realized my critical assessments may have been just a
little severe.
I think I confused
discernment with dismissiveness. It ain’t that simple.
A Singly Pithy Adjective
Don’t get me wrong: “You will recognize them by their fruits.” I get that. I’d better, since the Lord Jesus said it. Thorn bushes don’t produce grapes. Thistles don’t grow figs. An elder must be the husband of one wife. Deacons ought to manage their children and their own households well. Got it. Got it. I’m not suggesting we ignore the fact that other Christians sin
in various ways, or that we relax the New Testament requirements for certain kinds of spiritual service.
But people are not all
one thing. Sure, they may be easily characterized with a single pithy adjective
for short periods of their lives — drunken,
faithless, adulterous, homosexual, thieving, dissembling, imprudent, rash,
cowardly, undependable — but rarely do such descriptors serve to
accurately map the trajectory of an entire human life, let alone a Christian
walk. A misstep — or even several missteps — in a particular quadrant
of our lives doesn’t necessarily mean we have learned nothing of the Lord in
other areas. A failure — even a very egregious failure — at a
particular point in someone’s history doesn’t mean we write them off forever.
They may be very different today.
It’s even possible
they have learned quite a bit from crashing and burning, especially in public.
Six Sons in Four Verses
David had six sons in four verses by six different wives, and that was before he was even king of all Israel. He had more wives both before and after. Yes, I know, that was what kings did in
those days. I probably will not be following David’s example in the hope of
finding domestic bliss. But man, did David understand the human heart and its relationship to God in a way that seems unique in his day. What wonderful intimacy at a time when
God was often thought distant and unrelated to many specifics of human
experience! And was he ever wholehearted about the glory of God: “See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, but the ark of God dwells in a tent.” There’s a pretty special set of
priorities.
Should we DQ David because his home was a
mess? Probably not, unless we’re prepared to rip large sections of the Psalms
from our Bibles. Should we follow his example in everything? Again,
probably not.
Whither the Spirit of Christ?
David took his ex-wife Michal back forcibly
from her weeping husband of many years with no apparent consideration
of her wishes. Unsurprisingly, the reunion did not end well. I suspect the great king may have
been primarily concerned with making a political statement or recovering his
legal property rather than acting out of love. Yet only days later he grieved over the death of a political enemy to the point of refusing to eat. In one instance, the spirit of Christ in David
seems obvious. In the other, perhaps not so evident.
Not all one thing. People never are.
Discernment and dismissiveness both start
with ‘D’, but one is distinctly more Christian than the other.
Not to mention more useful.
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