Words'nTone

The Good Life: Genuine Christianity for the Middle Class by David Matzko McCarthy. Wipf & Stock Publishers (December 2006).

Politicians target the “middle-class” for their votes.  Businesses and entrepreneurs see the “middle-class” as a market niche.  The vase majority of churches throughout the U.S. seem to appeal mainly to those in the middle-class component of the population.  Some critics of middle class Christians have argued that they essentially prefer the status quo (like their unchurched and non-christian neighbors) and do not have, as a social group, the capacity to make significant contributions, and as a result, some could add meaningful contributions to the mission of the church.  The Good Life will move middle-class Christian readers beyond their attachment to the market-share of business and past their complicit relationship to the consumerism mentality within American culture.  David McCarthy seeks to help the middle-class to be more than a target of market-economics and political rhetoric.  He applies biblical principles to help those in this particular class of people to respond to Jesus’ mandate to seek first the kingdom of God.  McCarthy argues that middle-class Christians have a misguided attachment to the world.  He maintains the Christian life should require less “stuff.” This book offers guidance to the middle-class Christian community whose relationships to people, family, home, neighborhoods, work, and even to the earth, are determined more by the market economy than by Christian principles.  As American Christians it is difficult to not be caught up in American’s cultural, political, and economic benefits.  Harder still, to not be defined by them or to seek meaning through them.  The Good Life will help the reader to live beyond all this and discover ways to “seek the Kingdom of God.” I recommend that middle-class churches and their leadership ought to consider McCarthy’s book as a guide for mission development, even a framework for a Sunday morning sermon series.  Church small groups would benefit from reading it together.

Check out my Habits essay, The middling of the Christian faith

Yesterday, I had the privilege of sitting with nine other agency colleagues where we spent seven hours outlining a timeline and strategy to help our agency answer two questions:

What will we do to end poverty in America?

and

What will our agency contribute to Connecticut’s Legislature’s commitment to reduce child poverty by 50% in ten years?

Strangely we didn’t ask, where can we get more money?  Or, how can we keep people poor?  (The most common criticism from my more conservative friends.) Nor did we ask, how we can be a more effective government sponsored entity who partners with government to perform tasks on behalf of the poor?

No, we asked, how can we create a mindset among our staff that helps every person who comes to us for assistance answer, “How can I get out of poverty?” Lengthy discussion began on our need to include the whole staff in designing and implementing a ten-year Strategic Plan (with three year goals) to move low-income people out of poverty.  I wished my church friends, especially my conservative, evangelical church community, could have been there to see and hear this.  As an agency we are seeking to be leaders in ending poverty—in most cases one family at a time, but also addressing the causes of poverty in our community.  We discussed a timeline, so by December 2007 we’d have a strategy with High Impact areas that will include outcomes and activities that will 1) end poverty for individuals, 2) help Connecticut realize its goal of reducing child poverty by 50% in ten years, and 3) to end the causes of poverty in America (in our community and service delivery area).  Yes, that would put us out of business.  But why wouldn’t that be okay?  We’re innovative, passionate, smart, and skilled people in this business—we’d all figure out something to do after poverty is ended.

I told one of the facilitators that this is a question I’d like to present to churches—how will your congregation help to end poverty in America?  And then, I would like to help them develop strategies that add meat and substance (goals, outcomes, and activities) to their answer.  With all the talk among Christians that it’s not the government’s job to give to the poor (or even to end poverty), but the Church’s, I would think both Christians and churches would want to answer that question—how can I/we end poverty in America?  Just imagine a church making the willful decision to have as one of its aims, one of its reason’s for existence, the strategy for ending poverty.  Isn’t it in everyone’s interest to end poverty?  That sounds to me like a very conservative idea.  And—it sounds, even, biblical.

For someone who’d like to return to Church work, it is probably not a good thing to have a running written record of antichurch-growth rhetoric, taking the position (for all the public to see) that it is not the responsibility of the local church to grow in numbers.  But I take that chance, because I believe first in what the Scriptures teach.  And if one reads my material carefully, it is not that I am against a local congregation growing in size, but my issue is how and why.  I am concerned that the “how” is more related to market-driven forces and the “why” is related more to competition and appearance, than simply doing the things that increase the kingdom of God.  As someone once pointed out, the Lord’s Prayer doesn’t say, “Our Father, who is in heaven…make our church grow.” No, you remember, it says, “Our Father…Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.” Nothing about church growth—unless one is reading into what Jesus teaches.  The church is related to this, sure, but one reads into it “my local church is to grow in numbers.”

A few years ago, while visiting my best friend, Eric Marx at his home in a very small Iowa town, we browsed on topic after topic, especially church related ones.  At that time time he was pastoring a small congregation in a town with a population of 50.  He and I talked about church growth and the vocational culture the church-growth gurus have created.  I commented that the gurus of church growth have placed an unbiblical burden and an intolerable pressure on today’s pastors.  They now have to be front-men, PR masters, and market-driven entrepreneurs, business leaders with sharp skills; everything but pastors of a flock.  I also mentioned that we have church-growth principles all backwards.  We’ve confused the called (the actual commands) to spread the Word and increase the kingdom of God with church growth (I mean a local church’s growth).  It is not “up” that is expected; I said, it is “out.” It is not about a church growing up (in numbers), but about the kingdom spreading out—demographically and geographically.  (And I’ll mention, but not elaborate, the NT talks about the church-body (local) maturing.)

As in Acts 12:24, it is “the word of the Lord [continued] to grow and to be multiplied,” not a local church getting larger.  And we forget, as Paul teaches in 1 Corinthians, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God was causing the growth.  So then neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but God who causes the growth” (3:6-7).  (And I’d like to point out, the activity wasn’t about making the Corinthian church larger, but of church-planting activities, which should tell us something important about how the New Testament understands church growth.) Even passages in Ephesians that are often (mis)used to show the importance of church growth (in numbers) is far from it, but related to the church’s role in extending the rule and reign of God in Christ Jesus.

“in whom the whole building, being fitted together, is growing into a holy temple in the Lord” (Eph 2:21).

And the Biblical concept of church growth as spreading out, not adding up, is highlighted in Paul’s introduction to the Colossian church:

“[the Word, which is the Gospel] which has come to you, just as in all the world also it is constantly bearing fruit and increasing, even as it has been doing in you also since the day you heard of it and understood the grace of God in truth” (Col 1:6).

Out, not up. Not so-called “breakout churches,” but churches whose activities extend God’s kingdom (i.e., His right to reign and rule over every aspect of planet earth)—these are doing the biblical business of church growth.  Now that’s a biblical pressure (or burden) rightfully placed on both a church and its leadership whether it’s in an Iowa town of 50 or a metropolis of 781,870 (Indianapolis) or 8,008,278 (New York City).

“When you’re done in four years, you should feel satisfied, and mature, and taught, but most important, you should feel tired...Burn the candle at both ends.  Never tell yourself there’s no time to direct a play or sing in a choral group or play rugby.  Take a course in gene-splitting if you’re an English major.  If you major in biology, take a course in short-story writing.  Study Chinese.  Learn statistics...” (William Martin, Harvard Yard)

Two summers ago I read William Martin’s book, Harvard Yard and then posted a quote from the end of the book.  With my kids starting school today and one of them having started her first semester at college, I had to repeat the quote from his book here today.  The main character, at the end of the book, drops his son off at Harvard and offers these words of advice:

“When you’re done in four years, you should feel satisfied, and mature, and taught, but most important, you should feel tired...Burn the candle at both ends.  Never tell yourself there’s no time to direct a play or sing in a choral group or play rugby.  Take a course in gene-splitting if you’re an English major.  If you major in biology, take a course in short-story writing.  Study Chinese.  Learn statistics...” (William Martin, Harvard Yard)

“But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place” (NASB).

Paul isn’t a twentieth-first century theologian.  And, his audiences were not 21st century Americans.  These are important facts to remember.  We often err in getting out of the text what the author put in because we make an illegitimate correspondence between a referent (e.g., a word, concept, event, etc.) found in the text and our experience.  Sadly, these illegitimate correspondences are reinforced over and over by preachers and popular Christian writers, so much so, that it is hard to undo them in the hearts and minds of the faithful, average Christians who listen to sermons each week and participate in Sunday Schools and Bible Studies.  A chief example of this error can be found in how 2 Corinthians 2:14 is understood.

Since most read from the New International Version (NIV) today, let’s start there.  The NIV renders Paul’s words:

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him.

When you hear this text and the phrase “always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ,” what comes to mind?  Upon hearing this phrase, one most likely hears “victory.” Many take these words and make the correspondence to a victory parade of some sort.  Some have tried to attach these words to some sort of victory parade in Roman days for a victorious Caesar or gladiator.  But still, the up-to-date, contemporary visual correspondence is assumed to be a modern-day parade or victory celebration by a winning sports team or returning astronauts or, perhaps a high school band and parade after a football championship.  (I have heard them all.)

Whatever the referent given to this phrase—triumphal procession (NIV)—it is mostly interpreted in a positive, up-beat, victorious manner.  Something akin to the following:

We join in Christ’s victory parade and share in his conquest.

The question is, does the text and history itself sustain this positive interpretation?  (Full essay . . .)

---

Full 2 Corinthians 2:14 Rough Cut exegetical essay . . . If you cannot download pdf files, please email me () requesting a Word file of this exegetical essay, and I will gladly send it to you.

“but you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be My witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and even to the remotest part of the earth” (Acts 1:8)

When I was in the US Air Force, we’d say, “Mountain Home isn’t the ends of the earth, but you can see it from here.” While I was a young twenty-year-old Air Force recruit, I was stationed in Mountain Home, Idaho, for two years.  It really wasn’t that bad at all.  But as a newcomer to the base and a young man it seemed like I was stationed in the middle of no-where.  The base was right in the middle of a sagebrush desert.  Little to nothing stood in the way of this base for nearly 50 miles all around.  The Rocky Mountains were not “home” there; you could barely see them to the west on a good day.  I called the place, Mountain View-On-a-Good-Day, Idaho.  Years later, I would come to realize that Mountain Home, Idaho was indeed at the ends of the earth.  In fact, my neighborhood right here in the Black Rock section of Bridgeport, Connecticut is at the ends of the earth.  Your neighbors are at the ends of the earth.

But we don’t usually hear that, especially when Acts 1:8 is mentioned or preached on.  We usually place a rather spiritualized metaphorical grid over the verse, one that is foreign to its original setting and the author’s original intent.  This verse deserves its own Rough Cut exegetical study.  Perhaps in the future, but for right now some brief comments.

Usually one hears Acts 1:8 explained this way:

“Jesus is telling us to be witnesses first in ‘Jerusalem,’ your neighborhood and home town; then you should have a concern for your ‘Judea and Samaria,’ that is the region or outlying towns; and finally, you should support missions to bring the good news to the ‘ends of the earth’.”

I’d say, when Jesus actually spoke it—and for that matter, when Luke decided to incorporate it into his Acts of the Apostles account—Jerusalem actually meant, well, Jerusalem and Judea and Samaria actually meant (get ready for this) Judea and Samaria and the last geographical identifier, the ends of the earth, carried the connotation of “every where else” and particularly, theologically (based on OT usage) the far reaches of the Gentile world.  In fact the actual flow of Luke’s Acts implies this:

The word of the Gospel and the church start in Jerusalem (chps 1-7) and then spread to Judea and Samaria (8-9) and then to the far reaches of the Gentile world and Rome, its capital (10-28).  The “ends of the earth” throughout Scripture, particularly in the Old Testament was an identifier for the non-Israelite territories, i.e., the Gentile world.  If this is true—which is it—our neighbors, right next store are at the “ends of the earth.” Perhaps our churches, and us personally, should have the attitude: “We will go to the ends of the earth with the gospel for our neighbors.”

Jesus and the Old Testament by R. T. France.  Regent College Publishing (Reprint, 1992).

More than anything, this book revealed that my hermeneutical method would be well informed and molded if I patterned it after the only truly revealed hermeneutic the church has, that is, Jesus’ life, teachings, and especially His use of Old Testament Scripture.  If one wonders who gave the New Testament writers their hermeneutic principles, who taught them how to use, interpret, and apply Old Testament revelation—it was Jesus.  This book is pretty academic, but worth it for the serious student of the Word.  I encourage young pastors-in-training in college to ask that an independent course (yes, for credit) be set up to cover this book.  Anyone who enters the pulpit or even a church bible study as its leader should wade through this book if for one reason, to be better equipped to interpret the New Testament documents by learning—seeing how Jesus himself interpreted the Old Testament.  Well worth the struggle through the academic writing style.

“Christians cannot take the way of Christ seriously, or society will fall apart, will sink into a spiral of unmitigated violence. Justice is at stake. Civilization itself is at stake. Jesus could not have meant that we take him seriously in the realm of social and political realities--after all, what would happen if everyone did that? Consequently, ‘Jesus,’ ‘Christianity,’ and even ‘discipleship’ are reduced to mere ‘spirituality,’ a realm that has little if anything to do with the concrete realities of culture, civilization, and politics.” ~Lee C. Camp

I think we need a new approach to Church growth—not numbers growth, but growth in discipleship, growth in maturing, growth in changed lives.  In other words rather than growth meaning bigger, we should mean healthier, changed for the better.  We should measure church growth by the changes in our families, our communities, and our neighborhoods, and a change in our church’s capacity.  (Hey, CAA colleagues and friends, where’d I get these from?) In fact, I can’t find in the New Testament a “proof text” where we are responsible for the numbers growth of the church, anyway.  That seems to be God’s business everywhere I look.  I find it interesting that the New Testament seems to place the emphasis on “doing what’s right” and improving the Christian community—i.e., the local church.

In 1994, our Government changed its focus among its entitlement and social service programs to be outcome based.  Since most of the newly elected ‘94 Congress Republicans had business backgrounds (rather than previous elected office or legal backgrounds), there was a push to stop counting heads and start asking, “What changes have occurred in the people that our programs serve?” In my human service business, we need to ask, not only how many people we served, but how many have moved toward self-sufficiency?  How have we utilized our resources to move individuals and families toward improving their lives?  Seems like a good—and actually a more biblically defensible—approach to church growth—not just good government.  At least it does to me.

Think about it.  What are the usual outcomes, the default outcomes most Churches seem to have?  How many people attend?  Numbers.  How many people volunteer for Sunday school, clean-ups, VBS, nursery, etc.?  Numbers?  How much is given financially?  All simply numbers.  There might be even the noble (read spiritual) outcomes of how many more are praying?  How many attend mid-week prayer meeting?  How many go to Christian college?  How many go to the mission field?  All just numbers, though.  Don’t get me wrong.  All of these are desirable and have a place.  I’d even want the numbers to increase if I were a pastor.  But this number outcome thinking is more American, older government thinking, actually, than biblical.  I am surprised that in this regard our own government seems to have it right and the church is still counting beans (heads, numbers served, etc).  Now that’s funny—tragic, sad really.  Especially since it would be the number-cruncher church growth conservative types that eschew government social spending.  But at least its on track—not perfect, but better.  Now, let’s get our own church-growth model in order.

I wonder how the church—my church, any given church—would fare if the leaders had to write church-growth outcomes that measured changed lives rather than changed attendance?  Count on seeing more of this thinking in the days ahead…

In another blogging threa someone commented on the definition of “compassionate conservatives.” If memory doesn’t fail me, it was a conservative who made the comment.  That person wrote:

“A liberal defines compassion by the number of people who receive public assistance, and a conservative defines compassion by the number of people who no longer need it.”

Now on the one hand, I don’t know this person’s source to say that’s how liberals define themselves.  (I suspect the source is uninformed perception and bias, not research and documentation.) On the other hand, if this is how compassionate conservatives define themselves, then how do they perceive that people get from public assistance to “no longer need[ing] it”?  I couldn’t help myself, but I blogged back—a small voice in the thread.  Despite what you might think, please remember I consider myself politically a conservative—a compassionate one remains to be seen.  Here is my returned blog-comment:

Given the definition above, then conservatives ought to be flocking into human service vocations, if for anything to make sure we’re not just counting heads (that is, the #’s served), ensuring that people are learning to be self-sufficient. But conservatives don’t flock toward building human capital nor do I find that they seek vocations to help vulnerable populations to learn how to develop assets. I am indeed a conservative (despite what I am accused of) and I do work in the human service arena. In seven years as a planner, grant writer, now the Director of Finance & Planning Services for a Community Action Agency (and I travel a lot), I have not met one person who wants anyone poor, who just wants to give “handouts,” nor who isn’t working tirelessly to move as many as possible toward a path of self-sufficiency. I certainly don’t agree with a number of the policies of my more liberal colleagues; but everyday, people like myself, but with more intellect and passion than I have, work hard to help vulnerable populations to learn how to build assets and develop human capital. Of course we can debate the use of taxpayer-funded programs. Of course the public should hold us accountable for outcomes. But I have come to realize that the stereotype modern conservative…which only means some…isn’t someone who “counts how many can help themselves,” but those who just want the poor to stop being poor (all by themselves) and are often more concerned about their property than about community life for everyone, including the poor.  It is a proven fact of economics, that if resources are made available to help vulnerable individuals and families, communities, towns, states, and even our country save money.  One would figure that this would be a hot job opportunity for conservatives (no matter the type).

I have been pondering the idea of “making the gospel relevant” to outsiders, whether they be the youth, the poor, the divorced, middle class, the southwestern Fairfield County New Englander—anyone non-churched, non-Christian, and outside the church walls.  Admitedly, I have always been bothered by the idea of “making the gospel relevant” so that it becomes “meaningful” to outsiders.  Something about that has always struck me as, well, unbiblical.  But it seems the hip, the trendy, those that preach a popular gospel—pitching to the lowest common denominator—are often selected or acknowledged as being on the A-list of contemporary church leadership; the ones that get the “promotions” as it were, the one’s recognized, and worse, the ones’ that grow mega-churches.  But then I read the New Testament again and find we are warned about making the gospel something less than it is.  I hear Paul:

I am amazed that you are so quickly deserting Him who called you by the grace of Christ, for a different gospel; which is really not another; only there are some who are disturbing you and want to distort the gospel of Christ. But even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to what we have preached to you, he is to be accursed! As we have said before, so I say again now, if any man is preaching to you a gospel contrary to what you received, he is to be accursed! (Galatians 1:6-9)

But then I hear “it’s not changing the gospel, but making it understandable, making it applicable, pertinent to the unevangelized, the unchurched.” And I can sympathize with that.  And I begin to agree.  And that’s a dangerous place to be.

Then I come to my senses.  It is not that we are to make the gospel relevant to the contemporary sinner and non-churched, but that we should be relevant to them.  There is a difference.  When one makes the gospel “relevant” there is the danger of making it less than and something other than what the gospel truly is.  When we make ourselves relevant, something akin to Paul’s “I become all things to all men in order that I may save some” (I Cor 9:22), we make ourselves understandable to outsiders; we allow ourselves to identify with the pain, situations, and life of the unchurched.

But we’d rather make the gospel relevant…and here is two reasons I believe we prefer that route and why it is so dangerous,:

1. When we make the gospel relevant, in our attempt, we make the gospel in our image, and so whatever relevancy we have applied, the gospel is less than it truly is.  A relevant gospel in our image can’t really save anyone, for it is like us.  It helps make the gospel familiar.



2. When we make the gospel relevant, we can control it and control the outcome (somewhat), that is, in our pursuit to make it relevant we can determine who it appeals to.  This happens either by design or by default (naturally)—either way we control the outcome still, at least we try to.  The tendency will be to make it appeal to those like ourselves.  This way, the church grown through a gospel made relevant tends to be homogeneous…everyone is similar—from similar backgrounds, similar politics, similar lifestyles, and dress, and language.  This way we keep ourselves safe and secure in what’s relevant to us.

It is we who should learn to become relevant to outsiders, that is, to learn how to identify with those who are unchurched.  This way the burden is on us—not the gospel—to change, take risks, and form friendships and alliances with those that need the gospel applied to their lives.  This seems to me to be the burden of evangelism.

I’ve been asked many times, “Don’t you have time just to do nothing?”

   “Yeah, only on vacations when I can sit in a chair on the beach, read a book, and do nothing else for hours at a time.”

But even then, my mind drifts back to my everyday world of community action (social action) and I can’t help it, but I begin to intertwine my novel (that I am reading) and what I do everyday.  Thinking of new ideas, programs, better ways to do what we do.  Idle time—what we do with our idle time is a reflection of who we are.  In a focus group on community needs, we discussed that kids need something to do after school, on weekends, and during the summer.  And, that, sadly, those that need activities the most—the at-risk kids and teens from economically vulnerable families—can’t afford much to do.  As a result they do no-thing, and some do things that are harmful.  I pointed out that when I was younger and growing up, it was my free time, my unstructured, unsupervised (by adults) time that determined how I’d succeed (or not) in life--and probably what I’d be success in doing.  One of the participants in the focus group said that it’s not just the teens who need something to do that is healthy and constructive, its kids all across the board.  I agreed, wholeheartedly.  For we start developing the habits and even mental capacity when we are kids in our so-called free time, that gives us the tools—beyond math, English, and reading—to be successful in our adult life.  What we do as kids—and into our teen years—in our idle time, our free time—gives us the skills we’ll need later.  I learned how to develop and organize teams as we put unofficial ball teams together in the neighborhood.  I learned how to maximize my resources as my friends and I built mini-bikes, clubhouses, even boats to take out on our pond in the back.  I learned how to plan for the camping we did as kids in our neighborhood woods (all without adults).  What I learned as a kid gave me the capacity—the habits and the mental-creative intuition—to be able to think, create, and plan, as well as carryout what I need as an adult to be successful.  (Hopefully, successful as a student, a husband, father, worker, co-worker, church-deacon, and neighbor.) This focus group highlighted the need for communities—dare I include and say churches—to invest in activities to give our more economically vulnerable and at-risk children positive things to do in their free and idle time.  The return on investment, here too, will be well worth it.

“And He said, “How shall we picture the kingdom of God, or by what parable shall we present it? ‘It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the soil, though it is smaller than all the seeds that are upon the soil, yet when it is sown, it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and forms large branches; so that THE BIRDS OF THE AIR can NEST UNDER ITS SHADE.’ With many such parables He was speaking the word to them, so far as they were able to hear it; and He did not speak to them without a parable; but He was explaining everything privately to His own disciples” (Mark 4:30-34).

Definitions of the Kingdom of God are multiple.  My favorite is something Os Guinness once said.  My memory isn’t the best, but here’s a close recollection:

The Kingdom of God is all about space and time: Over what space and in what time does God’s authority and rule have preeminence?

The answer should be all space, all things, and at all times.  Certainly, each individual must answer this as a matter of obedience.  One’s answer also illustrates one’s view of God and the world.  Mark’s picture (i.e., definition) of God’s kingdom is one of a small seed producing a large plant with many branches, which eventually is becomes home to the “birds of the air” so they may find “shade” (i.e., protection).  Although Jesus is quoting Daniel 4, we know from an Old Testament parallel found in Ezekiel 31:6, the “birds of the air” represent the nations of the world.  (Now that’s interesting!) The Christian community, I believe, does well at understanding the “nations” aspect, the mission implication implied by this parable.  I am not so convinced we have a good grasp of the practical outworking of the “shade” imagery, that is, the idea of the Kingdom of God having a vision for a good society that will protect and nurture those in its “branches.” (Actually, I think we do this better overseas on this matter than we do here on the home soil of the good ol’ US of A.) A while back, I quoted John Leo’s essay, “Liberalism: Can it Survive?” in a CommonPlace Thought post on March 4, 2005 (see archives).  There I made reference to our own, that is, the evangelical community’s lack of a public philosophy.  I can’t help but read Mark’s reference to Jesus here in this parable as a kingdom call to obedience to have a public philosophy, namely a vision of the public good, or a good society.  We ought to be-ware: evangelicals have claimed new voter- and political-power afoot, but we are not being inspired by, as Leo puts it, “any vision of the good society.” This parable follows the implications of one of our favorite quotable verses, Matthew 6:33:

“But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

“His righteousness” implies that we are to seek right standing among others.  We trade away the power of God for political power.  However, can you imagine the power of the evangelical community, if we had a public philosophy and applied that to a vision of a good society right where we live?  Expressed in the community in which we are attempting to demonstrate the arrival of the kingdom of God?

“He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.” ~Jim Elliott, martyred missionary to the Huaorani Indian tribe, Equator