Tag Archives: Faith

What Human Suffering Can Teach Us about God–and Ourselves

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Why does God allow natural disasters like the Haiti earthquake? The best and worst responses to human suffering.

Of the enduring success of his book Catcher in the Rye the late  it was a living nightmare.

That sounds strange to me, a man who doesn’t have the success of a Salinger–and wouldn’t mind it.

But I think it would sound equally strange to a Haitian father who lost five children to a deadly earthquake.

Suffering Is Personal

I’ve never know devastation on the level of the Haiti earthquake.

I only know what it means to watch your father deteriorate rapidly from malignant, rapidly metastasizing lung cancer.

I only know what it means to watch a man fall 200 feet to his death in a climbing accident. [That man was my step father.]

My parents divorced when I was twelve. I’ve had my heart broken dozens of times before I married one of the most gracious person’s alive.

But I’ve never experienced devastation on the level of Haiti. And neither did Salinger.

But we can’t dismiss or minimize his pain. Or my pain. Or your pain–no matter what you’ve been through.

But neither does it really qualify us to answer the question of  for other people–especially for those in Haiti.

The Worst Response to Suffering in the World

A , “Why Does God allow Natural Disasters to Occur?” Great question. Maybe.

The writer–a philosophy lecturer at the University of Glasgow–does an elegant job of covering the historical and modern arguments [and counter-arguments] for the problem of evil, but without landing on any one conviction.

Instead, he leaves you with the nagging impression that God is on trial–and things aren’t looking good for him.

Here are the facts: The universe doesn’t care about you or me. In fact, it doesn’t care about humans at all.

The universe and the earth that floats in it are nothing more than machines grinding away by impersonal forces. Sometimes those forces involve the destruction of humans.

Forces, mind you, set forth at some time by God. So we ask the question: If God is omnipotent and benevolent, why does he allow this to happen?

Why does he allow the mechanical operations of the world to destroy us? Naturally, when that question arises, it’s not God who is own trial–it’s us.

Now, I’m not big on defending more territory than I can manage, so in the long run I don’t feel obligated to answer this question.

Neither do I feel qualified.

Here’s why: outside of the aid my family has given to the survivors of the Haitian earthquake, in no way have I been involved in this tragedy.

I don’t know anyone in that country. I don’t have friends who know anyone in that country.

It’s peripheral to my existence, if you know what I mean.

In my mind, the best people to answer these questions are in Haiti. The worst, politicos and academics in America–like  or Pat Robertson or even me.

What We Do with Suffering

This has always intrigued me about the human race: When we see a tragedy like Haiti, we seem to absorb it all in and think this is the worst devastation WE’VE ever known.

It personally rocks our world. Is that the least bit fair–or even logical?

Sylvia Plath–a suburban mother and poet–equated her inner torment to that of the suffering of an Auschwitz Jew and thus buried her head in an oven.

She’s been criticized for co-opting Holocaust Jews’ trauma for her own.

And I think we are in danger of doing the same thing when we meditate on the meaning of a tragedy that doesn’t impact us personally–and then try to answer the so-called dilemma.

The real question is: What are people in Haiti saying? [Nod to Terry Mattingly for .]

Haitians’ Religious Responses to the Earthquake

Emotions in Haiti range from steady faith to outright despair. One , “You have to question your faith, but hopefully not lose it.”

Another woman cried: “This is what God did! See what God can do!”

Dudu Orelian, a Haitian man who lost a brother and nephew in the earthquake, stood outside the stone and metal rod wreckage that was once Notre Dame Cathedral of Port-au-Prince and said, ”God is angry at the world.”

Most Haitians are Christian–largely Catholic with a small but growing number of Protestants. But most also practice Voodoo–the official state religion [like Catholicism].

Regardless of their religious focus, though, they : in some measure the earthquake is the hand of God.

Rev. Eric Toussaint said, “We must recognize his power.”

Haitian-American musician Richard Morse–whose mother is a singer and Voodoo priestess–said, “If all of a sudden, in 15 seconds, 20 seconds, all the physical representations of corruption are destroyed, it gives you pause for thought.”

Indeed.

But what happens when you lose five children in the rubble? One man said, “How could He do this to us? There is no God.”

Another woman was seen tossing her Bible into a fire.

Each of these examples represents a personal response to the problem of suffering. Which brings me to my next point.

What We Can Know about God in Suffering

Pain is personal. Subjective. Non-quantifiable. Thus, immeasurable.

Does a person who lost five children in a school shooting experience any more emotional pain than a man who lost an adult son to cancer?

What about a writer tormented by the popularity his book brought him: Is that any less than a man who’s brother and nephew were killed?

No. It’s not fair to suggest that.

Neither do I think it’s entirely fair to adopt a stranger’s real tragedy to defend or object to some abstract argument.

Here’s what it all boils down to: God created man to relate to other men. To comfort them in desperate times. And in that relation, God is glorified.

That’s the pressing mandate in the wake of this horrific natural disaster.

And in the end, we know that God is neither indifferent nor ignorant of human suffering.

He put his son, Christ, on the cross to absorb the wrath of God we deserve and on the third day rose from the dead in a glorified body to announce that, indeed, it is okay to trust him and that death–the ultimate suffering–has been defeated…

And no matter the amount of pain we’ve personally experienced or torment we’ve endured, all that will one day be wiped away when we enter God’s everlasting presence.

That, ironically, is the ultimate answer to the problem of pain. And remember, I’m the worst person–the least qualified–in this case, to answer the question.

But it’s being asked. And I’m offering what little I have. Let me know what you think.

How to Deal with Religious Conflict

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What beliefs create peaceful behavior and deal with the discord of religion? Here’s the answer. Part of a series on truth.

There’s no getting around it: Everybody has an exclusive set of beliefs.

Moralists look down their noses at unbelievers as filthy, undisciplined misfits.

Secularists snub religious people as psychopathic nut jobs.

And pragmatists demand we shed our religious beliefs when we debate matters of life.

All privileged–but partial–views we hold over others.

Which View Is Right?

What we need to do [and what really matters in the long run] is to discover which set of beliefs create peaceful, inclusive and loving behavior…

…will radically change you into agents of reconciliation for the world…

…and deal with the discord of religion.

I know this sounds counter intuitive, but the set of beliefs that will do that are found in Christianity–and the uniqueness of the Christian gospel.

Here are three major ways Christianity is unique to other religious views.

1. Origin of Salvation

The founder of Christianity is not a human–he is God. God who came in the flesh. All other religious founders are human.

2. Purpose of Salvation

 That God came in the flesh is important. Most Eastern religions tend to teach liberation from the flesh. And most Western religions tend to condemn the flesh.

However, through the birth and resurrection of Jesus Christ, Christianity teaches that the flesh will be redeemed and renewed.

3. Method of Salvation

All other religions teach you to perform the truth to be saved. They put salvation in the hands of humans. Christianity, in contrast, puts salvation squarely in the hands of God:

In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. 

Jesus lived the life that we should have lived and died the death we deserved. He suffered for people who didn’t love him. And this is the highest act of love.

Is There One True Religion?

I believe so.

How can I say that in a flat, pluralistic world where every religious flower can bloom? And how does that deal with religious conflict?

In the next post I’ll explain how holding these unique truths of Christianity seals people off from religious superiority, transforms them into agents of peace and produces humble, patient and compassionate behavior…behavior that ultimately shuts down religious animosity.

Why I Can Not NOT Be a Christian

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What is the best and final gift of the gospel? It’s not what you think.

The phrase “good news” means the gospel.

And translated into popular Greek, it means euangelion–a reward for good news given to the messenger.

The verb form is euangelizo. It’s where we get our word “evangelism.”

Thus, sharing our faith [evangelism] involves sharing the good news.

And…this is important…what is that good news?

The good news is that we have peace with God through the blood of Christ.

But that’s not all.

The best and final gift of the gospel is that we gain Christ.

John Piper, in , says as much:

In place of this, we have turned the love of God and the gospel of Christ into a divine endorsement of our delight in many lesser things, especially the delight in our being made much of.

The acid test of biblical centeredness–and faithfulness to the gospel–is this: Do you feel more loved because God makes much of you, or because, at the cost of his Son, he enables you to enjoy making much of him forever?

Who is the focus of the gospel: You or Christ? You must get the answer right. That is Piper’s warning. Which brings me to the point of this post.

The Gift of Christ as Sustainer of Faith

It’s always there: The temptation to let myself go. Distance myself from prayer. Worship. Bible Reading. Study. Fellowship.

The temptation to fall back in love with this world. Drawn to it’s culture. It’s literature. It’s movies. It’s economy. It’s poverty.

Why don’t I walk away? Simple: The gift of Christ as the sustainer of my faith.

Always, in that moment of weakness, the Spirit of Christ nudges me back to the truth and reminds me what Jesus said about hell, God’s wrath, our wretched state and God’s grace.

At all times I’m a hair breadth away from apostasy. Except for Christ’s preserving work. And this is why my perennial prayer is that Christ would preserve me.

It wasn’t in my own power that I became a Christian. It’s not in my own doing that I . If I fall out of Christianity it will be God’s doing.

But God promises that he’ll .

My Responsibility in Light of Christ

This doesn’t excuse me from personal responsibility. I still must decide which direction I will walk.

God just makes it easy by clearing the obstructions away from my view of Christ. He softened my heart to burn with love for him. And he makes it easy to see the majesty of Jesus.

I can nurture that vision by spending time in prayer, taking communion, reading my Bible and sharing my faith.

That is the good news of the good news…

That we not only have peace with God through the blood of Christ. But we also have assurance that he who elected us to salvation will complete our salvation.

In other words, we have assurance that we don’t have to trust ourselves to carry us through what otherwise sinks human beings: a love affair with self.

This is why I can say I can not NOT be a Christian. Because it’s impossible to overthrow the creator of the universe.

Then again, with a changed heart and renewed affections for my Savior and an irresistible sense of the sweetness of Christ, I would never think of doing such a thing.

By the way, if you liked what you read please . Then share this post on Twitter and Facebook.

A. N. Wilson: An Atheist’s Slow Return to Religion

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A short story on a noted atheist’s long return back to Christianity.

A. N. Wilson’s conversion might be old news–but it’s profoundly emblematic of ex-atheists.

That means it’s useful to us here at Fallen and Flawed.

Let me show you what I mean.

Brief History of Wilson’s Conversion to Atheism

In April of 2009, this 59-year-old English writer rediscovered his faith.

A faith he formerly denounced in his late 30s.

Legend has it that –during dinner with Wilson–probed the writer:

So – absolutely no God?

Nope, I was able to say.

No future life, nothing ‘out there’?

No, I obediently replied.

And that creedless catechism sealed it. Wilson could officially declare: “At last! No more silly talk about the incarnation. Jesus’ resurrection. The afterlife.”

He was done with that load of baloney. That nonsense.

But there was just one thing. He couldn’t shake the sense that there was more to life than just material.

There’s More to Religion Than Argument

Skeptical to the core, Wilson even struggled with his non-belief. And when he did–just like a devout saint cracking open the New Testament–he brought down his copy of David Hume’s .

But even the monarch of anti-supernaturalism and his literature couldn’t keep the doubts at bay.

What Wilson found was that after the novelty of his dramatic abandonment of faith wore off, he felt bleak and muddled more than ever. Religion wasn’t about argument alone. Religion embraced the whole person. Body and soul.

Further Doubts Rise

Then there’s language. Darwinian materialists suggest that language evolved. Yet, :

Where’s the evidence? How could it come about that human beings all agreed that particular grunts carried particular connotations? How could it have come about that groups of anthropoid apes developed the amazing morphological complexity of a single sentence, let alone the whole grammatical mystery which has engaged Chomsky and others in our lifetime and linguists for time out of mind?

At the bottom of Wilson’s critique is this: Materialism can not adequately explain our complex world. Christianity, on the other hand, as a working blueprint for life, can.

Tell this to an atheist and you’ll get a blank stare. Or a sweeping, scaled-down explanation that demonstrates one thing: They don’t understand what they’re talking about.

Bold assertion. But hear me out.

What Makes *Truly* Useful Parenting Advice

Long ago I didn’t have children.

Yet, I freely gave parents child-rearing advice. Turns out, bad advice. The advice I shared pre-children amounted to a vigorous lack of understanding. A wholesale existential bankruptcy when it came to raising children.

Now that I do have children, I actually understand what it means to struggle with discipline or irregular infant sleep patterns.

What was the difference? I’ve looked a sobbing 5-year-old girl in the face and told her she couldn’t ride her bike. I’ve sat beside an infant soothing his restlessness well past midnight.

The Issue That Put a Tin Hat on Atheistic Ambitions

Interestingly enough, the issue at stake here was the same issue that ate at a unbelieving C. S. Lewis.

That issue is nothing more than morality.

Wilson’s acute crisis with non-faith happened while he was writing a . At some time while writing he realized “how utterly incoherent were Hitler’s neo-Darwinian ravings, and how potent was the opposition, much of it from Christians; paid for, not with clear intellectual victory, but in blood.”

Injustice simply didn’t make sense in a creedless society and ethics as a human construct was absurd.

Final [Somewhat Interesting] Thoughts

A. N. Wilson, at one time, was one of my favorite fiction writers. Books that topped my list were his biography on the apostle and .

However, it was  that always most stuck out to me, a book that proclaimed the decline of faith in the western civilisation. In fact, Wilson went so far to say towards the end of the book that at the end of the 20th Century we were witnessing a robust decline in professions to the Christian faith.

Not surprising.

What was surprising to Wilson, on the other hand, was that in the face of ferocious persecution, compelling objections and disruption within the ranks, it persisted.

“It” being God. The very Being, in the end, Wilson couldn’t escape.

Interview with an Ex-Atheist: Matthew Blair

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Part of the Interview with an Ex-Atheist series.

Okay, thought I’d introduce today’s guest via a really bad poem I wrote. Here we go.

…dog groomer extraordinaire.

Once a legalist bent on pleasing man…now a huge reformed Baptist fan.

Savvy in the art of cutting canine hair…he also excels in exegeting the gospel with care.

His  aims to help tired legalists lay in Christ’s finished plan…but his heart truly beats for union with Calvary’s victorious [fill in the blank].

[Two dollars and fifty-cents for anyone who can guess the end of the rhyme. Hint: It’s not a true rhyme. I fudged. Just a tad.]

Okay. Enough nonsense. Onward.

1. How would you describe your religious bent: Christian, non-Christian or other?

I’m an unashamed Reformed Baptist.

I started my regenerate life as a dispensational fundamental (as my grandfather is), which then spilled into a non-denominational Armenian at my local Calvary Chapel, and finally to where I am now…basking in the glories of the reformed faith. Thanks to 8 or so hours of good podcasts a day, I came to “exalt God on high and lay man in the dust” as it were.

2. Were you religious before you became an atheist?

Nope…well. Sort of. I was an evolutionist, and in my opinion, evolution has become somewhat of a religion requiring quite a bit of faith on the part of the one holding to it. After I went to college, it only deepened my feelings for it.

Hehehe…”But God….”

3. What makes you think you were an atheist?

Knowing what I know now, I would classify my self as an agnostic back then. Only someone who possess full knowledge can truly say they are an atheist in the fullest meaning of the word.

I didn’t know any better. I grew up in an unbelieving home in which the only time God or Jesus was brought up was to blaspheme His name. I was an “atheist” by default I guess you might say. My folks were, so was I.

4. How did Christians treat you as an atheist?

Honestly, I didn’t know any. I went to public school and was surrounded by like minds…minds dead in their sin being taught by others dead in their sin. Sad, really. Had I known any, I probably would have thought they were weak minded and believers of fairy tales.

I can remember once as a small child opening up a bible on my bed and reading from it. It was like reading another language. I remember that distinctly.

5. How are you treated by atheists now? Persecuted?

They tolerate me.

In the beginning of my new life, I was a typical annoying new believer. All fire and no wood…ready to change the world for Jesus! My coworkers thought I was a little nutty, but they were professing Catholics from North East Philly, so my Jesus talk was a little familiar…just with zeal.

Persecution? Nothing like our brothers and sisters around the world receive on a daily basis I assure you!

6. What was the final event or argument that brought you to believe in God?

I can’t really remember. Such as the Spirit goes, you know?

It was a process, but ultimately, I came to the end of rope. I felt nothing in my life but utter desperation and conflict….I saw Jesus as the only way to go. It wasn’t my doing…it was all Him.

7. Was it head or heart that led you to God? Or both?

In the beginning, heart. I still cannot explain it to this day, but it was as if (and I know this sounds silly) Jesus just lit up like a Christmas tree. Bizarre….and I still haven’t come to grips with it, but it’s as if darkness was pushed aside and light poured in. My conversion? Maybe. The beginnings of His drawing me? Possibly. One day I’ll find out.

8. Have you talked to any atheists about giving up atheism? How did they react?

The only real conversations I had at depth with atheists were a few forum discussions ( and ) and a b I jumped in on a while back (see comments). I didn’t handle it very well.

9. When did you know you were a Christian? Did it scare you?

Dunno…but I will say this: The first time I ever “felt” grace was on my way to work one morning while stopped at a red light in front of Dominick’s Pizza. I set there and felt fully justified…fully clean. Heck, maybe that was my conversion!

10. What do you want to accomplish with your life?

Ugh, by God’s grace to be like His son. It’s what we all want, right!?

11. Who are your heroes? Why?

I don’t have enough space to list them all, but my top five would be my wife who prayed for my salvation for years while we were dating and even after we got married…my grandfather who always bore a silent testimony to Christ in his home…William Tyndale for doing what he did to get God’s word into the hands of the common folk…James White for doing what he does in defending the faith and bearing witness to a biblical Christ…and John Piper who I think was the guy that finally sealed the deal for my belief in the reformed faith.

12. What would you like to accomplish with your blog?

I struggle with legalism…it was part of my upbringing to please everyone and have no one mad at me I think. I started the  to try and help others struggling to see Christ and to rest in His finished work. I consider myself a reform(ed)ing legalist. It’s still something I fight against tremendously. To help one saint rest in Christ would be well worth every second I’ve put into it. I’ve swayed a bit from that from time to time, but that’s my heart.

13. What’s your favorite part about being a Christian?

Being forgiven and the thought that I was once bound to hell and was given mercy beyond all measure. Yea…that’s the best part!

14. Would you ever bail on Christianity?

Again, knowing now what I know, I believe He will never let me slip from His hand. By trial, suffering, and tribulation, He will see me home. I have been bought at a high price and He’s not about to let me bail.

Matt, thank you immensely for laying it all out there. Okay readers, say “hello” to Matt and share any comments, questions or concerns. Don’t be shy.


6 Excuses We Use to Avoid Sharing Our Faith

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Here are six perennial–but pernicious–common excuses we use to avoid sharing our faith. With a few pieces of advice on how to overcome them.

Sharing the gospel is no picnic, readers. And once the slightest snub arrives, the dream of leading someone to Christ ends.

And the excuses begin.

Here are six perennial–but pernicious–favorites. With a few pieces of advice on how to overcome them stuffed in between.

1. We quote Assisi.

 said, “Preach the gospel at all times and when necessary use words.”

The preeminent license to keep your mouth shut when God urges you to open it.  Sometimes heard in tandem with any one of the following…

2. We must meet their physical needs first.

Granted, there is some truth to this statement, but…most of us don’t live near remote, drought-wasted Ethiopian villages.

Or among Cambodians who drink the same water cows defecate and decay in.

We’re talkin’ about your neighbor. Who probably makes more money than you.

3. We don’t want to be weird.

What we actually mean is, we don’t want to be rejected because man’s approval means more to us than God’s.

[Also, see no. 6 for a possible reason why we might feel this way.]

4. We’re too busy.

This IS my quintessential excuse.

“Must finish the lawn before the storm. Must pick up the pizza before it cools. Must towel dry the dog before she shakes.”

Pathetic when unbelieving neighbors or strangers linger nearby.

5. We don’t know enough.

I’ve tried my best to eliminate this excuse for you with posts on the Messiah, the Gospel, the Cross.

The simplest remedy? Read your bible. And open your mouth.

6. We don’t believe the gospel can do what it says it can do.

If you fall into this category, the question is…do you even trust the Bible? You must bone up on the teachings of Christ.

And examine your faith, to see that it is anchored in the right place.

Conclusion

Did I miss any? Add any you’ve heard in the comments below.

Here’s the deal: I’ve used–and still use–all six to one degree or another. And I will continue to do so. The quest is to do it less. And less…

So that at some point the only thing that comes out of my mouth is a clear, graceful articulation of the gospel…and not some excuse.

**Part of The Curmudgeon’s Guide to Sharing the Gospel series.**

Interview with an Ex-Atheist: Demian Farworth

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Part of the Interview with an Ex-Atheist series.

Okay. First, let me apologize.

Launching this ex-atheist series took longer than I hoped. So sorry I drug my feet.

In my defense, though, the reason I took so long was because I wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do.

Just a gut feeling. But maybe I was veering off in the wrong direction.

So…I spent time in prayer. Mulled it over with God. And talked about it with some close friends.

In the end, I feel good going forward. Think it’ll be harmless. Hopefully eye-opening. And at least marginally satisfying to your spirit.

So, without further non-sense, me.

1. How would you describe your religious bent: Christian, non-Christian or other?

Christian. Classical Christianity. Meaning, biblical and historical Christianity. Adhere to creeds such as the Apostle’s and the Nicene. Follow the teachings of Reformers. Regard the Bible as the highest authority of truth. Recognize Christ as the exclusive way to God.

2. Were you religious before you became an atheist?

No. That’s what made me an atheist, right?

3. What makes you think you were an atheist?

Flat out rejection of God. Jesus Christ. To the point were I even believed Jesus was a mythical figure.

I admit: I was a bad atheist. I didn’t come to that conclusion after a systematic study of evolution or Bart Ehrman. It was more, “You honestly expect me to believe such crap in our modern world?”

I spent most of my time drinking, reading – and writing bad poetry.

4. How did Christians treat you as an atheist?

Depends. I avoided Christians as much as possible. Major buzz kill.

Those I did run into…I think they treated me fine. Gave me the gospel drill, which I swiftly drowned out with a drink or my fingers.

5. How are you treated by atheists now? Persecuted?

For the most part, respect. Naturally you encounter the militant who is determined to make a clown of you. But that’s the minority.

6. What was the final event or argument that brought you to believe in God?

Good question. And unfortunately there’s not a short answer. But I’ll try to sum it up like this:

No single argument. But one single event. When my wife busted me over my emotional infidelity, she threatened divorce. I freaked and said I’d do anything to save the marriage, the family, including making a serious effort at being a Christian.

See, shortly before I got married I “converted.” And said I was a Christian. For ten years. But what became apparent to me post-divorce threat…as I started to read the Bible and people like Ray Comfort, John MacArthur and Jonathan Edwards…was that I’d been deceived.

I’d drank the cultural Christian Kool-Aid that claimed you were a believer if you walked down the aisle or filled out a card or raised your hand.

What it boils down to is this: Profession of faith versus possession of faith. I had the profession but not the possession.

That event opened my eyes. And at some point I received the gift of faith from God. And then the arguments started to pile on.

Jesus’–the historical person who I dismissed as mythical–his life, death and resurrection. What was I to do with that?

With such a clearly substantiated event like that, I thought I’d be insane to ignore it. So I began to believe in it. And be changed. Radically.

7. Was it head or heart that led you to God? Or both?

Neither. It was God who cleaned my clock and said “You’re with me.” At that point, though, shortly after the near-miss with divorce, I’d been awakened and was like, “Yeah, I’m with you.”

That’s when I began my journey to understand my new faith.

This process is identical with the story of the . He first is awakened out of his spiritual slumber, then returns to his father. Same with me. I was awakened, recognized my depravity and confessed my sin.

8. Have you talked to any atheists about giving up atheism? How did they react?

Lots of atheists. And usually they respond, “Sorry, tried that. Didn’t work for me.”

However, I’ve learned, especially through my blog, that it’s not about winning arguments. It’s about a clear articulation of the Gospel.

That’s what matters. Everything else is peripheral.

9. When did you know you were a Christian? Did it scare you?

Again, no single event. Clearly a process. That’s conversion as described in the Bible.

And naturally when you have the rug pulled out from under you…you are scared. I’d wrapped myself up in this solitary, vigorous pursuit of literary fame–emotionally, professionally and personally–and now that’s gone?

Talk about an identity crisis.

What filled that vacuum is light-years more satisfying than what was there before, though.

10. What do you want to accomplish with your life?

Use my gift of writing to spread the Gospel. Train my children to love God. Serve my wife with compassion and humility.

11. Who are your heroes? Why?

John Piper. I think that man is a gift from the past. What do I mean by that? He’s a Puritan to the core. And the best thing we could have to an actual flesh and blood Jonathan Edwards.

12. What would you like to accomplish with your blog?

Use my gift of writing to spread the Gospel.

13. What’s your favorite part about being a Christian?

Exalting Christ.

14. Would you ever bail on Christianity?

The only reason I am a Christian is because of God’s mercy and grace. And the only reason I remain a Christian is because of God’s mercy and grace.

And because of God’s faithfulness I know that his word is true today and tomorrow, so when he says that no one can snatch a man from his grip, if I ever bail on Christianity it will because he let me go. But he doesn’t let believers go. So, I’m confident I will remain a Christian until the day I die.

Shew. That was harder than I thought. Anyway, I’ll roll out another interview in two weeks. You up for another interview? Let me know. And if you have any questions, fire away. I’ll try to answer.