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DUMBER Stuff People Say About the BIble

Today’s a Monday, and especially rough since we had a Super Bowl party at our house last night. I’ve woken up with a terrific headache.

…and NO, it’s not a hangover! It was a church party. People don’t wake up hungover and naked after those…usually ;0)

Bleary-eyed, I start checking through notifications on my phone and see a message from Twitter. It’s an atheist responding back to a tweet from the other day. He’s posing several challenges about the Bible to me, which is their usual strategy on Twitter. I do want to answer, not in hopes of “winning an argument”, but believing that God can speak to the heart of even the angriest atheist.

I commonly get the usual “gotcha questions” atheists lob at Christians to try and rattle them. The questions usually come from what many Christians would consider “fly-over country”: the Old Testament laws. Christians don’t always spend a lot of time learning those laws because many of them applied to the Israel nation-state, which was just for that particular time in history. Since we are not living in that ancient country, many of the laws simply do not apply today although their underlying principles are still important as part of Biblical history.

When answering Biblical questions, it’s smart to remember “the first to plead his case seems right, until another comes and examines him” (Proverbs 18:17).  The real Truth takes time to find, especially when dealing with 2000+-year-old books of antiquity. And most atheists are simply unwilling to explore the Bible enough to find out that, unlike Noah’s Ark, their own critiques don’t hold water.

Here’s one of today’s questions from Twitter:

“How do you explain the UNICORNS in the Bible?”

And lo and behold, when you look at the King James Version, there are no fewer than nine mentions of the fanciful little beast from fairy land (Numbers 23:22, for example). Wow, the Bible really is just a bunch of mythology after all! We might as well be getting our worldview from Tinkerbell, right?

The truth is when you look past the surface to the original language, the Hebrew talks not about “unicorns” but instead about a large animal with one horn. When translated, the KJV Bible gave it a name that at the time had a different connotation than it does today: “unicorn: a one-horned animal”.

But the animal they described is actually not mythological at all and fairly easy to recognize…if you’ve ever heard of a RHINOCEROS!

However, to discover that, the Bible’s critics would actually have to do something they claim to be all about: research. They would have to look at scholarly sources and understand textual criticism and the Hebrew language. By the way, there is a name for people who actually do study those things and whose job it is to understand them…

They’re called “pastors”.

It’s the same issue when looking at the next question:

Doesn’t the Bible allow rape?

In truth, the Hebrew doesn’t say rape, and in fact avoids the specific Hebrew words like chazaq used with anah as in Genesis 34:1-7 where it is indicating actual rape. Instead, in opposition to the culture of the day which said an unwed woman who had sex could be abandoned or abused, the man who had sex with a woman would not get away without marry her or paying a fine to her father who was her protector.

So the Bible actually shows a respect for women, in stark contrast to the accepted ethics of that era. In fact, Deuteronomy 22:25-29 gives a sentence of death to the rapist while warning them that the woman shares no fault in the rape. Here again, the Bible honors and defends women in a society that saw them only as property, no better than cattle.

The Bible warns “a little learning is a dangerous thing”. A contemporary reading of a 4000+ year old Scripture is not true research, and it is not scholarly. Here’s another question from Twitter today:

Why didn’t the Bible completely ban slavery?

I don’t know of anyone beyond human traffickers and Boko Haram who approve of slavery these days. But in ancient times it was a harsh reality of life. Tribes warred with other tribes, and often taking slaves was an option instead of killing prisoners of war.

To release a prisoner from a neighboring warring tribe meant they would only run away, regroup and attack you again. And since these POWs lived with you and not in some far away camp, often physical punishment had to be used. This was the reality of the era. But when the Bible deals with the reality of slavery within the culture, it puts limits on punishment of unruly slaves and makes always their lives more humane.

Actually, the Bible did ban slavery…later in Galatians 3:28. The Apostle Paul also wrote a whole book against it called Philemon.

So why didn’t He just say that back in the Old Testament? Why didn’t He demand society adopt a wholesale, drastic change of operations?

There were many things during Old Testament times God didn’t approve of. Try polygamy and premarital sex, for example (actually, I’d prefer you NOT try them). Yet the Ten Commandments only really dealt with “adultery” specifically, and not all the other creative options we’d come up with to martial fidelity. So, how come?

Basically, because God understands reality and human nature. So, He started a reform in the Old Testament that we finally see come to fruition in the New.

What He did was to bring His people through a progression, moving them continually forward. Finally in God’s “emancipation proclamation” of Gal 3:28, He announces that “In Christ, there is no Jew nor Greek (anti-racism), male nor female (anti-sexism), slave nor free (anti-slavery). The fact this statement was dropped in the midst of a pagan culture that would think it crazy-talk reveals how ahead of its time the Bible was, and still is.

As stunning as that verse must have been to 1st-century ears, it would have fallen on deaf ears in the barbarism of Old Testament times.

It’s funny that skeptics expect a 2000+-year-old book to perfectly reflect their own contemporary politically-correct thinking. Their delicate sensibilities are offended that God would dirty His hands dealing with such uncouth cultures.

It’s as if they expect the Apostle Paul to walk into one of those coliseums we saw in the movie GLADIATOR, and start scolding everyone like a substitute teacher with an out of control class of teenagers. “Now now, everyone. Don’t you realize you’re being unkind to each other in here! Those swords are very pointy and could put an eye out! Put those away right now, and let’s all play nice…”

They all look and stare at him for about 5 seconds. Then they release the lions on him, and go back to their fighting.

One of the things I appreciate most about my God is that His patience through the Old Testament  proves He’s not the demanding legalist atheists often accuse Him of being. He’s a loving Father who patiently moves His children along, even though there are things about them which truly offend His standards of love, kindness, and respect.

One day, I may look back on some of the things I found acceptable and tolerated about myself and wonder how God ever put up with me. Thankfully, from looking at His patience from the Old Testament through the New, I can see He won’t just give up on me either.

And I’m not going to give up on my atheist friends either, even if they want to spar on a Monday morning when my head hurts and kids are screaming. If there’s hope for me, maybe there’s hope for them as well.

____________________________________________________________________

There’s even more fun with atheist’s arguments in my article “DUMB STUFF PEOPLE SAY ABOUT THE BIBLE” – click here to read it!

straight-talk-for-skepticsThis article is a chapter from YOUR BRAIN’S TOO SMALL FOR GOD, my book for skeptics and the Christians who love them. Order your copy today at Amazon!

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Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.

Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.