What’ya Gonna Do?

How will you respond to the drastic social and political changes in our culture?

That was a question I tossed out at a class I was teaching. Actually, my words were, “What’ya gonna do?”

The class dealt with the impact Gentile empires had upon Jews living in the Holy Land during the 400 years between the Old and New Testaments. I challenged the class members to imagine they were Jewish parents who had just welcomed a new baby into the family during the rule of a Greek tyrant, Antiochus IV.  Antiochus, who had adopted the title “Epiphanes” or “god manifest”, was violently forcing his Greek culture upon the Jews in Palestine.

Antiochus Epiphanes had decreed that Jews must worship the Greek gods. A pig would eventually be sacrificed upon the sacred altar that had been dedicated to YAHWEH, the God of Israel. The times were difficult for a practicing Jew. Circumcision and Sabbath observance was declared illegal.

Jewish believers had to choose how to respond their Greek oppressors. The Greek language was rapidly replacing Aramaic and Hebrew. It seemed that everything these Jews once loved and practiced was being threatened.

So, imagine you’re that Jewish parent. Circumcision was mandatory under the Abrahamic Covenant. So, “What’ya gonna do?” Ignore the covenant with your God and rationalize that circumcision was just an unnecessary painful surgery. After all, your son would face ridicule at the local gymnasium while swimming in the nude—also the law. Will you resist Antiochus and sharpen the knife on your son’s eighth day of life?

Will you continue honoring the Sabbath, or will you submit to the local Greek police? Perhaps, you could observe the Sabbath dinner with shades pulled and candles dimmed and singing at a whisper? Imagine your children hearing their parents discussing the options and asking, “Papa, What’ya gonna do?”

During this traumatic era when Hellenization– the enforcing of Greek language, culture and religion upon the world\d—was the spirit of the day, Jews had to decide what to do? How they would respond?

The easiest route was to accept the Greek presence and to cooperate and reap and enjoy the benefits of the amazing Greek culture. Just to bend as far as necessary to keep the peace was an obvious choice.

Some Jews, such as the Pharisees, didn’t welcome the intruders but continued to practice their faith and try to stay as separated from the Gentiles as far as possible.

A few fervent Jews chose to resist. They would be called the Zealots. Their patriotic and religious fervor would lead to violent resistance—often at a terrible price. But it’s what they decided to do. Eventually, under Roman rule, their zeal would result in the total destruction of Jerusalem and the dispersion of Jews throughout the world.

A fourth group of very conservative Jews chose to leave town. To get as far away from the pagans as possible. They preferred communal living out in the Judean wilderness than trying to co-exist with the intruding Gentiles. These became known as the Essenes. They were the true separatists. Some of them would leave portions of their Hebrew Scriptures in caves above the Dead Sea that would be discovered in the late 1940’s.

But all that was over 2,000 years ago. Does that ancient history even matter today? Is it relevant?

Perhaps you’ve heard the old saying, “If we don’t learn from history, we’re bound to repeat it.” To paraphrase a truth in the book of Ecclesiastes, “There’s nothing new under the sun.” Seems like, “What goes round comes round.”

Today, 2024, Christians in several parts of the world live under persecution. Their life is difficult, even dangerous. Professing believer must choose what they will do. Some, while kneeling under an Islamic blade, must choose death or reciting “Allah Akbar.” What would you do? Think about it, “What ya gonna do?”

Fortunately, you don’t have to decide. At lease, not yet.

But let’s bring this closer to home. Consider the confusion over gender identity and the debate whether a parent has the right to deny their child to pursue an impossible surgery—a sex or gender change. No physician can transform a boy into a girl—at least not a girl that can have a baby. If your child or grandchild would ever confide with a teacher or a counselor that his rights are being denied by his parents, and the State gets involved—especially possible here on the West Coast—threatening to remove your child from the home, “What’ya gonna do?”

I hope you never have to decide.

Our culture is changing so rapidly that someday, perhaps soon, you may need to make one of these hard decisions. Will you bend as far as possible? Will you break and surrender to the culture? Or, will you resist, even if it may result in imprisonment, as it has for some who have dared to stand outside a clinic encouraging women to reconsider a decision that will terminate the life of an innocent human?

Will your zeal result in retaliation—even burning the clinic? God forbid! That will never solve the problem.

Or, like several believers in my home state that have chosen to escape across the State Line into a more conservative Idaho. That’s a legitimate option. But, I ask, what about the need for salt and light where we live?

I cannot tell anyone what they must do in response to our degenerating culture, but I do ask you to consider, “What’ya gonna do” if the challenge ever faces you?

Lessons from an Ostrich

Several weeks ago I asked my friend, Larry Libby (he also volunteers as my editor, for which I am deeply grateful), what he thought about working on a post about frogs and ostriches. He was game to try, so here goes.

Two familiar sayings—“the frog in the kettle” and “bury your head in the sand”—illustrate two potential responses to our rapidly changing secular culture. I have discovered that both frogs and ostriches are listed among the unclean foods in Leviticus 11:13-19. You’d never find frog legs or an ostrich drumstick on a Kosher menu. A practicing Jew would never say, “Frog legs taste like chicken.”

The fourth plague in Exodus 8 was an infestation of frogs. The sixth bowl judgment in Revelation 16:13 is described as “three unclean, demonic spirits, like frogs.”

The ostrich doesn’t fare much better in Scripture. Their meat, like that of vultures, ravens and birds of prey, was considered “detestable.” These giant birds are included among hyenas and jackals and other assorted creatures that inhabit deserted places (Isaiah 13:19-22; Jeremiah 9:39, 40; Job 30:24-31:1; Micah 1:6-9). 

In the last few posts on the Front Porch Swing, I have challenged my readers to invest in projects like providing safe drinking water in developing countries. I have encouraged you to pray for those suffering religious persecution and become an advocate for the unborn at risk in the womb. 

Living as we do in America, or in almost any Western nation, most of us are wealthy compared to millions of people struggling in abject poverty. Many people will go to bed tonight hungry. Some live in tin shacks. Some will sift through garbage dumps to tomorrow. Others will be arrested and imprisoned for having a Bible in their possession.

Currently, like many of you, I am frustrated by not being able to gather as a church family on Sunday. More tragic are the millions who dare not even gather quietly in their own homes, in fear of arrest or martyrdom.

I could go on and on about our affluence. My purpose is not to bring shame or guilt, because we live where we do. But my goodness, we—of all people—ought to be lavish in our praise and gratitude toward God, the giver of all good gifts.

That’s a very good start. But if I all I do is offer thanks, I would be remiss. The Bible frequently calls for getting involved. Jesus illustrated it so well in His famous “Good Samaritan” story. Two religious leaders, probably quite well off, passed a wounded man lying in the middle of the path. Both recognized the man was in desperate straits and would undoubtedly die without assistance. Both passed by anyway. Did they whisper a prayer for the victim as they passed? Probably not, or Jesus would have said so. Bottom, neither got a hand dirty or lost valuable time or spent so much as a dime to help him.

A third man, a despised Samaritan, soon came upon the bloody scene. Seeing the victim lying in the path and hearing his barely audible groans, the Samaritan felt compassion. Ignoring the risk that he too might be victimized on that dangerous stretch of highway, he stopped to offer assistance. He got involved. After cleansing the wounds and making bandages from his own clothing, he placed the man on his donkey and hastened down the path to the nearest lodging place. Before continuing his journey the next morning, the Samaritan gave the host money—essentially his Visa card—to care for the victim.

That’s why we call people who stop to help others in trouble, “Good Samaritans.” You may have met some of these good people along life’s pathway. Perhaps you were stuck in a snow bank or parked on the shoulder in a disabled car in the middle of the night as vehicles roared past. Then, to your vast relief, a car stopped and the driver offered to help you—or call for help—to get on your way again. I’ve been there. I’ve even been the Good Samaritan a few times. More often than not, however, I drove on by. Somebody else will stop and help them, I’ve told myself. Everybody has a cell phone.

Life in today’s world is filled with suffering and wounded individuals. She may be curled up on the sidewalk on a cold night wrapped in cardboard. He may be huddling in a thin blanket on a concrete floor in a North Korean prison. She may be widow in India, grieving her husband’s death at the hands of militant Hindu terrorists, wondering how she will feed her children. She may be pregnant, married or not, considering a lethal option.

You get the point; people are suffering and dying and living in fear. There is no shortage of opportunities to be a Good Samaritan. Nor is there a shortage of resources. 

The question is, how will I respond? I can’t really say that I have nothing to offer. We all have something to offer. Nor can I claim ignorance. To do so makes me either a frog or an ostrich.

We’re all familiar with the famous frog-in-the-kettle story. Put him in a large pan of cool water and he is right at home. Put the pan on a kitchen range and turn the fire on low to gradually, almost imperceptibly, heat the water. The environment changes so slowly that the frog doesn’t notice—until it’s too late.

Have I become too comfortable with contemporary culture? Do I watch on TV what I once would have walked out of in a movie theater? Do I justify purchasing what I once considered excess? Am I being conformed—molded like lime Jell-O—by the culture, rather than being changed by the living Word of God?

You’ve heard of culture shock? It’s a real experience. It isn’t easy dropping into an underdeveloped country and witnessing the abject poverty of the people, or perhaps the scars of severe persecution. For me, however, the greater culture shock was in coming back to America after a lengthy global mission trip. It takes weeks or longer to adjust to what it means to live in a nation blessed with over-the-top abundance of everything. But those feelings eventually, almost imperceptibly, fade. Life returns to normal, in our world of safe highways, newer autos, supermarkets and medical clinics everywhere. It’s what we expect.

Am I a frog in the kettle?

Or maybe I have a greater resemblance to the ostrich, with my head buried in the sand. But I really can’t plead ignorance about the injustices and evil around me. Our culture seems hell-bent on discarding traditional morality. Evil has too often elbowed out good. We may adjust our vocabulary, but wrong is still wrong by any name. The assault on the institution of marriage has been relentless. Less than a quarter of a century ago, Congress passed the Defense of Marriage Act, and President Clinton signed it into law. Even Barak Obama ran on the defense of traditional marriage, before “evolving,” once in office. Today, that good law has been trashed. The once sacred covenant of marriage has been defiled. Anything goes. Except, of course, insisting that marriage is a covenant between one man and one woman intended to remain intact until death.

Words like fornication and adultery are rarely heard in today’s era of sexual freedom. Restrooms are in danger of no longer being gender specific. Men, supposedly “transformed” into women, unfairly compete against women in sports.

A female ostrich, when compared with jackals, receives an even poorer rating, because of her careless maternal instincts: “Even jackals offer the breast; they nurse their young, but the daughter of my people has become cruel, like the ostriches in the wilderness” (Lamentations 4:1-5). 

The legend of the ostrich sticking its head in the sand isn’t really true. Some believe the ostrich, seeing danger, may hunker down and duck its long neck and head to disguise itself as a bush. 

An ostrich may not immerse its head in the sand, but do we, if we know something is wrong but fail to respond? We plead ignorance. We are like children hiding behind a blanket. 

To know there is another person, created in the image of God, living in the womb, but call it a “mass of tissue” is to put our heads in the sand. To know there are children starving to death and not respond is putting our heads into the sand. To know Christians are being persecuted and slaughtered and remain silent is putting our heads into the sand. Like children, playing peek-a-boo, we pretend (by our actions or lack thereof) that we didn’t see anything. 

One thing is certain, Someone saw! 

We will stand before Him one day. It won’t be a Zoom call or on FaceTime, it will be face-to-face, and we will give an account of our lives. In that day, however, it won’t be about frogs and ostriches. We will be identified as a sheep or a goat, based on our response to the injustices around us (Matthew 25:31-46).

Let’s be sheep, following our Good Shepherd through a broken world…and all the way Home.