Are Mormons Christians? During this campaigning for the Republican nomination for president, Mitt Romney's candidacy brings this question into the public arena. It is likely that if you have a Mormon neighbor, friend or co-worker, this question has arisen (or now may soon arise). Many Mormons (members of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints) will say something like this: "We believe in Christ the same as you do."
They seem so clean cut and morally upstanding. Their "Joe college" boys who ride their bicycles with white shirt and tie, including the neat, crew cut hair, look like the decent kind of boy every parent would like to introduce to his/her daughter. How can a church that represents itself with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir be anything but wholesome, heartland American? How dare you call them a cult! That is a vicious, judgmental accusation. Isn't it arrogant to say you are Christian and they are not?
You need to know that the name calling began with Joseph Smith. Mormons and members of any historic Christian denomination cannot both be Christians, and Joseph Smith himself demanded that we see it that way. In the publication "Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story", he claims to have met God in the year 1820. He said that God told him not to join any of the existing denominations, and that "all their creeds were an abomination in His sight." This, of course, includes my creed, the Westminster Confession of Faith (1648).
If what I believe is an abomination in the sight of God, then there is no way we are both Christian. Logically it is possible that all Christians up until 1820 were deceived and only Mormons are true Christians. Or it is possible that Mormons are following a cleverly devised cult, and historic Christianity is indeed the Christian faith. The one proposition that cannot be true is that "We believe in Christ the same as you."
The ambition of a good Mormon is to be god. Shockingly identical with the luring words of Satan when he spoke to Eve in the garden. "What we are now, God once was, and what God is now, we may become." That is a mantra for striving Mormons.
For historic Christianity, Christ bore our sins in his own body on the cross, and He merited the righteousness that justifies us before God, and we receive that righteousness by faith, not by works.
For the Mormon, though it is said that Christ died for our sins, what they mean is that Christ undid the plight of original sin and set us on the path of earning our place in the highest heaven we can attain by our works. How far you get is totally up to you, and based on just how good you can be.
That Christ died for our original sin in Adam is of little comparative value. This is true because the sin of Adam was a "good" sin. Mormon doctrine teaches that God allowed Adam to be put in a position that he had to choose to sin. The first commandment God gave Adam was to multiply and replenish the earth. The second command was not to eat of the forbidden fruit. Since Eve had been tricked into eating the fruit, Adam had to choose between joining Eve so they could multiply, or refrain from eating the fruit and letting the world go on without increasing the population. Mormons call Adam a good prophet because he made the right choice. And the guilt incurred by that good choice is the only thing Christ removed by his suffering and death on the cross. (A Study of the Articles of Faith" by James E. Talmage, p. 65).
My point is simply this: the way of salvation is 180 degrees different between Mormonism and Christianity.
Now when it comes to politics, it may be true that in our pagan culture (of course our nation was never truly a Christian country) Christians may find a number of moral points of agreement with Romney. It is conceivable that you will say this unbeliever (certainly that is what a cultist actually is) is preferable to other unbelievers who are candidates.
It is not my desire to address that subject in this brief post. Just don't be hoodwinked by the old hack that Mormons believe in Christ the same as other Christians. Whatever else you want to believe, that cannot be so.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Hooray for lust, errr..ah...love.
Cupid, whose name means "desire", appears on this day, doing his mysterious thing. He is the god of lust, and when he hits you with his arrow--wow, the magic happens. Eros is a legitimate part of love, and more often than not, it is where a loving relationship begins.
I vividly remember the moonlight hike at family camp when I first held hands with my sweetheart. At the risk of evoking scornful laughter, I confess to you that this was a very erotic moment in our relationship. It was exciting and it was effective interpersonal communication.
I think love is grand, and I enjoy seeing it bud and blossom in sweet young people all around me. But there is a tragedy in our culture. So many of our young people stall out at the erotic level of a relationship. The American milieu has it's throttle stuck on sex, and not many know how to love because of this.
The excitement of a marriage of eros only, cannot last long. This is true simply because emotion is like that. The thrill of a roller coaster is momentary. The excitement of a touchdown is fleeting. Those who are addicted to adrenalin must necessarily seek a new and higher thrill.
Love, on the other hand, vividly remembers all those thrilling moments of eros (and plans to create more of them), but as it matures, it seeks the comfort and pleasure of the beloved. "It's not about me." When young lovers give of themselves for the good of the one loved, this creates a happy and thriving love. All you ever wanted from a spouse comes to pass as the natural flow of this kind of giving love develops a relationship. When I love her the way I should, she increases her caring and catering to me.
I am called to love her as Christ loved the church, and gave himself for her. She is to submit herself to me as the church does to Christ in all things. This doesn't just happen. It develops. And it all begins when you begin to know the love of Christ, which passes knowledge. Herein is love: not that we loved God, but that he has loved us, and given us his Son as the propitiation of our sins. Not enough people understand that so go back and read the epistle of First John in the Bible.
I say Hooray for Valentine's Day! Hooray for eros! But especially hooray for the real and lasting love that comes after that!
Friday, February 10, 2012
Griffith Observatory
Looking out over the hazy horizon, I saw the broad view of my home "town", Los Angeles. It's a city with which it is easy to hold a relationship of love/hate. Out there in the middle of those tall buildings there used to be a hospital named, "The Angeles Hospital." My mother gave me birth there in 1934, only those tall buildings were not there at that time. No building was allowed to be taller than the 454 feet of city hall until the 1950s.
We were standing on one of the terraces of the Griffith Observatory yesterday. It was our personal field trip of the day, and we discovered all over again, the wonder of our solar system. Dwarfed by the monster Jupiter, our little blue marble seems relatively insignificant, floating in the vast hollow of space. Then there is tiny Pluto (recently demoted from planet status) that looks like a pea at unimaginable distance. I suppose all this reaffirms the dogma of the atheist, but for me the awe of God's immensity is what impressed me. Once again I was thinking with David, "What is man that thou art mindful of him?"
The incredibly young and energetic take the dirt hiking path up to the entrance. We, on the other hand, found a space to park in the handicap lot. More power to the hikers! I can remember young and energetic years, but I have to reach way back. Oh, yeah, it was on one of those trails in Griffith Park where a human head and the severed hands were found by a hiker's dog just a few weeks ago. Another argument against trail hiking, as if I needed one.
When low blood sugar set in, we ate an energy bar and headed for a restaurant. Just down the hill from the observatory we found Louis' place. In ancient times this was the famous "Brown Derby" restaurant where Hollywood stars would hob nob. Rush hour traffic along Los Feliz Blvd. made it seem that you can't get there from here. But we finally did.
We had eaten here before, but not for some time. It was wonderful food and great service. And the price was so reasonable for all this. I ordered "Chicken Balsamica" from the engaging menu. My plate included braised spinach and roasted vegetables. I had found that wonderful combination of delicious food that was also good for me. Close enough to heaven for now.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Firestone fosters prayer
The year the the Firestone Tire Company hyped an ad campaign for a super tire for the family auto was the same year the Keller family was vacationing from Wilmington, DE to California to visit parents and others. It was a natural move for us to buy the two new tires we needed for this long trip from Firestone. So we packed our station wagon with kids and dog and headed west. However, this highly touted rubber donut turned out to be infamous before the year was finished. And thereupon hangs a tale of our adventures.
We must have been in Wyoming by the time we realized we had purchased two of those pneumatic wheel covers destined for recall. Really, really in the middle of nowhere the cadence of our tire hernia grew more and more pronounced until we had to stop and check. Of course we had a spare, but it was not fun to empty the rear of the station wagon and get the spare and the jack. A rat (perhaps a prairie dog) had found refuge under the wheel I had removed, and it made me jump when he dashed away as I was picking up the old tire. Now what? It was a new tire, and we were determined to get a refund. So with a handy rope or bunji cord we tied the defective tire to the roof of the station wagon, and drove on.
When the station wagon is loaded with 6 children 2 parents and a dog, traveling can be an adventure with many distractions. We used to say that the dog was the best traveler of all. Talitha, our faithful poodle mix, was happy to be with her family, and as long as we filled her bowl with water whenever we stopped to eat or gas up the car, she was quite content to lie on the floor beneath the feet of the children. Or occasionally she would lie across a couple laps and enjoy strokes from one or more of the kids.
But traveling highways in deserted country is just a bit unnerving to a father who felt responsible for all these souls in the midst of hostile environments. Not dissimilar from that of the patriarchs in their prairie schooners. Okay, so that was a little over the top, but you get my point. We were in the desert, and I felt vulnerable.
Traveling with this restless crew is most readily accomplished by covering as many miles as possible while most are sleeping. This requires the driver to drive all night, and she who rides "shotgun" to help him stay awake. This strategy brought us into the wilderness of Nevada in the early hours of the morning. Now the steady drumbeat of the next tire hernia was detected by all. We couldn't change the tire since the spare was already in use, and the other tire was awkwardly strapped to the roof of the car. I slowed the car, hoping we would get more mileage with gentler use. Also there was the consideration that a blowout on the highway might not be so injurious at a lower rate of speed. But the next town was several miles ahead. What should we do? We were feeling desperate, and desperate people learn how to pray with importunity. Providence had us in training.
Weary from the tension of the circumstances, we saw the green sign announcing the approaching town. Some relief began to creep into our bodies. At least from here it would not be far to hike to the nearest service station, if need so dictated. As we approached the first gas station we saw it was closed. Remember this was rather early in the morning. Then we had the boldness to seek a station for which we held a credit card. We never seemed to have much money, and didn't carry much when we traveled. It would be best if we put the expense of the new tire on our credit card. After passing another station simply because it was not a sponsor of our credit, we found a Mobile station.
As we were pulling into the driveway, just passing the gas pumps, there was a rather loud "bang" as the latest hernia ruptured. Barbara laughed and said, "Well, I guess they don't need to ask us why we are here." Now the tension was over and prayer was wonderfully, and humorously, answered. I have been certain since that moment that God has a sense of humor.
We saw a place for breakfast just across the street from the Mobile station, and the kids were dazzled by the fact that even here there were the famous lights and one-armed bandits so famous in the silver state. How satisfying to have our car road-ready again and our bellies filled with ham and flapjacks. So off again, but now with two misplaced tires tied to our station wagon roof.
We must have been in Wyoming by the time we realized we had purchased two of those pneumatic wheel covers destined for recall. Really, really in the middle of nowhere the cadence of our tire hernia grew more and more pronounced until we had to stop and check. Of course we had a spare, but it was not fun to empty the rear of the station wagon and get the spare and the jack. A rat (perhaps a prairie dog) had found refuge under the wheel I had removed, and it made me jump when he dashed away as I was picking up the old tire. Now what? It was a new tire, and we were determined to get a refund. So with a handy rope or bunji cord we tied the defective tire to the roof of the station wagon, and drove on.
When the station wagon is loaded with 6 children 2 parents and a dog, traveling can be an adventure with many distractions. We used to say that the dog was the best traveler of all. Talitha, our faithful poodle mix, was happy to be with her family, and as long as we filled her bowl with water whenever we stopped to eat or gas up the car, she was quite content to lie on the floor beneath the feet of the children. Or occasionally she would lie across a couple laps and enjoy strokes from one or more of the kids.
But traveling highways in deserted country is just a bit unnerving to a father who felt responsible for all these souls in the midst of hostile environments. Not dissimilar from that of the patriarchs in their prairie schooners. Okay, so that was a little over the top, but you get my point. We were in the desert, and I felt vulnerable.
Traveling with this restless crew is most readily accomplished by covering as many miles as possible while most are sleeping. This requires the driver to drive all night, and she who rides "shotgun" to help him stay awake. This strategy brought us into the wilderness of Nevada in the early hours of the morning. Now the steady drumbeat of the next tire hernia was detected by all. We couldn't change the tire since the spare was already in use, and the other tire was awkwardly strapped to the roof of the car. I slowed the car, hoping we would get more mileage with gentler use. Also there was the consideration that a blowout on the highway might not be so injurious at a lower rate of speed. But the next town was several miles ahead. What should we do? We were feeling desperate, and desperate people learn how to pray with importunity. Providence had us in training.
Weary from the tension of the circumstances, we saw the green sign announcing the approaching town. Some relief began to creep into our bodies. At least from here it would not be far to hike to the nearest service station, if need so dictated. As we approached the first gas station we saw it was closed. Remember this was rather early in the morning. Then we had the boldness to seek a station for which we held a credit card. We never seemed to have much money, and didn't carry much when we traveled. It would be best if we put the expense of the new tire on our credit card. After passing another station simply because it was not a sponsor of our credit, we found a Mobile station.
As we were pulling into the driveway, just passing the gas pumps, there was a rather loud "bang" as the latest hernia ruptured. Barbara laughed and said, "Well, I guess they don't need to ask us why we are here." Now the tension was over and prayer was wonderfully, and humorously, answered. I have been certain since that moment that God has a sense of humor.
We saw a place for breakfast just across the street from the Mobile station, and the kids were dazzled by the fact that even here there were the famous lights and one-armed bandits so famous in the silver state. How satisfying to have our car road-ready again and our bellies filled with ham and flapjacks. So off again, but now with two misplaced tires tied to our station wagon roof.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Auto Mechanics and Prayer
Did you ever pray for the "healing" of your car? Well, I did, and I confess it was to my surprise that God wonderfully answered that prayer. I had to be at youth camp. I think I was "the man" in charge. The water pump in my car had sprung a leak, so I would be delayed. I asked God to help me know what to do. But when I started the car again, the leak had stopped.
The weekend ministry was accomplished. Kids are always challenging, but such great fun. As far as I recall we were all blessed with the word of God and good fellowship (and, of course, a certain amount of silliness).
After this was over, and I had returned home, the water pump began leaking again. I'm not going to say that mechanical problems are best solved by prayer. But the facts are that I prayed for help, and that's exactly what I got. God "healed" my car for just long enough to give me a successful weekend of ministry with young people.
Being a poverty case preacher, of course I set out to fix it myself. I removed the old water pump, took it to Pep Boys and laid it on the counter. My father's expert mechanic friend taught me to take the part to the store and compare every screw hole and flange with the new one. Often the paper work identifies the "right part" that has an extra protrusion or slightly different screw holes that can only be identified by eyeballing the two.
I put the car back together, and what's this? The water pump was squirting like a baster. I'm no crack mechanic. I must have done something wrong. Maybe I forgot a gasket. So I took it all apart again. If you've done this yourself, you know that it always seems to require the removal of other things like the air conditioner pulley or some other housing just to access the part. So when I finally pull out the water pump, it looks perfect. Gaskets are intact and bolts had been tight. Well, I put it together again, only to find the leak is still there!
This time I pulled the part and took it back to Pep Boys to have them tell me what I was doing wrong. The guy at the counter says, "Just a minute." When he returns to the counter, he tells me that they tested the part in the back and found that it was defective. He gave me another one, and this time it worked.
So the sum and substance is this: the worn, defective part--the part that was prayed over--worked for the needed time. And the newly refurbished part--the part that just came out of the box--did not work. God likes to work the ironic. Little is much when God is in it. A man's skill or wisdom is a fearful thing to trust. Proverbs 3:5, 6 comes to mind.
The weekend ministry was accomplished. Kids are always challenging, but such great fun. As far as I recall we were all blessed with the word of God and good fellowship (and, of course, a certain amount of silliness).
After this was over, and I had returned home, the water pump began leaking again. I'm not going to say that mechanical problems are best solved by prayer. But the facts are that I prayed for help, and that's exactly what I got. God "healed" my car for just long enough to give me a successful weekend of ministry with young people.
Being a poverty case preacher, of course I set out to fix it myself. I removed the old water pump, took it to Pep Boys and laid it on the counter. My father's expert mechanic friend taught me to take the part to the store and compare every screw hole and flange with the new one. Often the paper work identifies the "right part" that has an extra protrusion or slightly different screw holes that can only be identified by eyeballing the two.
I put the car back together, and what's this? The water pump was squirting like a baster. I'm no crack mechanic. I must have done something wrong. Maybe I forgot a gasket. So I took it all apart again. If you've done this yourself, you know that it always seems to require the removal of other things like the air conditioner pulley or some other housing just to access the part. So when I finally pull out the water pump, it looks perfect. Gaskets are intact and bolts had been tight. Well, I put it together again, only to find the leak is still there!
This time I pulled the part and took it back to Pep Boys to have them tell me what I was doing wrong. The guy at the counter says, "Just a minute." When he returns to the counter, he tells me that they tested the part in the back and found that it was defective. He gave me another one, and this time it worked.
So the sum and substance is this: the worn, defective part--the part that was prayed over--worked for the needed time. And the newly refurbished part--the part that just came out of the box--did not work. God likes to work the ironic. Little is much when God is in it. A man's skill or wisdom is a fearful thing to trust. Proverbs 3:5, 6 comes to mind.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Resolutions
My wife still remembers sitting in the doctor's waiting room, overhearing a girl with a broken leg who said, "I'm giving up dancing for lent." Just how impressed did she think God might be with her resolution of self sacrifice?
New Year's resolutions are ridiculous. The concept itself carries the proof of the insincere intentions. The fact that one waits until the New Year to make the resolution is the evidence that there is no hearty resolution about it. I'm going to keep my New Year's resolution to never go sky diving again. The fact that I have never had a desire to do this, plus the fact that I am 77 years old and have no business trying such a foolish, dangerous thing, makes this resolution most certainly successful. But what does such a resolution mean?
If something is worth changing in your life, why wait til New Years to make the change? If it is something wrong or bad, that is to say sinful, then it's worth doing December 30 or January 2 or any other day of the year. "I resolve to stop killing other people, starting New Year's Day." No, that won't fly. Obviously ludicrous, but when we are talking about sin, it is no more ludicrous than saying, "I resolve to stop coveting the riches of others, starting on New Year's Day." Oh I see, that leaves you one more day to indulge that sin. Better do a lot of it to make up for the deprivation you will suffer in the future.
It's like Mardi Gras, fat Tuesday, as a day of debauchery and gluttony before the self-deprivation of lent. Does anyone actually suppose God is fooled by such obvious ill intentions? Does anyone actually want to serve such a small-minded god? It's only a game quite like the New Year's resolution.
Christian friend, you know your resolution. I resolve to kill sin more effectively and live more godly. But, dear friend, we must remake that resolve every day, and alas, more than once each of those days.
New Year's resolutions are ridiculous. The concept itself carries the proof of the insincere intentions. The fact that one waits until the New Year to make the resolution is the evidence that there is no hearty resolution about it. I'm going to keep my New Year's resolution to never go sky diving again. The fact that I have never had a desire to do this, plus the fact that I am 77 years old and have no business trying such a foolish, dangerous thing, makes this resolution most certainly successful. But what does such a resolution mean?
If something is worth changing in your life, why wait til New Years to make the change? If it is something wrong or bad, that is to say sinful, then it's worth doing December 30 or January 2 or any other day of the year. "I resolve to stop killing other people, starting New Year's Day." No, that won't fly. Obviously ludicrous, but when we are talking about sin, it is no more ludicrous than saying, "I resolve to stop coveting the riches of others, starting on New Year's Day." Oh I see, that leaves you one more day to indulge that sin. Better do a lot of it to make up for the deprivation you will suffer in the future.
It's like Mardi Gras, fat Tuesday, as a day of debauchery and gluttony before the self-deprivation of lent. Does anyone actually suppose God is fooled by such obvious ill intentions? Does anyone actually want to serve such a small-minded god? It's only a game quite like the New Year's resolution.
Christian friend, you know your resolution. I resolve to kill sin more effectively and live more godly. But, dear friend, we must remake that resolve every day, and alas, more than once each of those days.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Singing apocrypha
You have to realize how doctrinally hard nosed is my church before you will appreciate what I have to say today. This is the church who chooses not to sing "and opened the life-gate that all may go in" when we publish "To God Be the Glory" in our hymnal. The committee took the pains to modify Fanny Crosby's first verse to read "that we may go in" instead. The original could have been construed to mean that Jesus is the Savior of the whole world, meaning every race, tongue and tribe have one, and only one Savior offered to them in the Gospel. But just to jealously guard the doctrine of election, we needed to modify it. Okay, the Orthodox Presbyterian Church is doctrinally up tight--even paranoid? I love this church, and partly for that reason.
What amuses me at this time of year is how we let sentiment, tradition or whatever it is, lead us into singing outlandish apocrypha. Try "It Came Upon the Midnight Clear" (Trinity hymnal #200). Where is the Scripture that tells us Jesus was born at midnight? The hymn makes no reference to Christ or His saving work. Instead it anticipates a golden age that eventually comes over the earth with peace. It leaves out reference to the saving atonement because it was written by a Unitarian pastor who didn't believe in the atonement.
How about # 204, "Away in a Manger"? In the second verse baby Jesus wakes up, but no crying He makes. How do we know that? Is it sinful for babies to cry?
"See, amid the Winter's Snow" (#199) has great words, but what's this stuff about winter's snow? Bethlehem gets plenty cold in late December (too cold for shepherds to be abiding in the field with their sheep), but snow is rare at this latitude and altitude.
I'm not outraged (should I be?). I'm not crusading for hymn revisions. I'm simply amused that my doctrinally hard nosed church sings apocrypha this time of year.
What amuses me at this time of year is how we let sentiment, tradition or whatever it is, lead us into singing outlandish apocrypha. Try "It Came Upon the Midnight Clear" (Trinity hymnal #200). Where is the Scripture that tells us Jesus was born at midnight? The hymn makes no reference to Christ or His saving work. Instead it anticipates a golden age that eventually comes over the earth with peace. It leaves out reference to the saving atonement because it was written by a Unitarian pastor who didn't believe in the atonement.
How about # 204, "Away in a Manger"? In the second verse baby Jesus wakes up, but no crying He makes. How do we know that? Is it sinful for babies to cry?
"See, amid the Winter's Snow" (#199) has great words, but what's this stuff about winter's snow? Bethlehem gets plenty cold in late December (too cold for shepherds to be abiding in the field with their sheep), but snow is rare at this latitude and altitude.
I'm not outraged (should I be?). I'm not crusading for hymn revisions. I'm simply amused that my doctrinally hard nosed church sings apocrypha this time of year.
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