Theology

Et Tu, Ahithophel? The Cautionary Tale of King David’s Adviser

When trusted counselors go bad, churches pay a heavy price.

Christianity Today June 21, 2023
Illustration by Christianity Today / Source Images: WikiMedia Commons / Getty

Evangelical churches do not have an official or formally recognized pope. But there are individuals in churches whose counsel is received as if it is from God himself, even if they do not hold top leadership positions.

In King David’s life, this influential individual was Ahithophel, his trusted counselor. When David’s son, Absalom, planned a treacherous rebellion against his father, Ahithophel entered the picture as a minor character with a major role in 2 Samuel 15:12.

Most of us would expect Ahithophel to offer morally righteous guidance to the royal family. Instead, he told Absalom to sleep with his father’s concubines and even volunteers to embark on a covert mission to murder David.

As a pastor in the Philippines, I have encountered several modern-day Ahithophels in ministry. On the one hand, they may offer biblical, ethical advice that helps the church to grow spiritually. On the other hand, they may pursue hidden agendas and perpetuate disorder and dysfunction within a congregation. These damaging effects to the church are exacerbated when people constantly defer to their wishes and desires. Consequently, pastors and church leaders may make decisions not because they are the best course of action to undertake but because they are what a particular person of influence wants.

Some of the Ahithophels in our churches today may be influential because they are major donors. Others may have such a likable and charismatic personality that everyone is drawn to listen to their counsel, even if they may not have the wisest opinion or an accurate diagnosis of the problem.

Through Ahithophel’s life story in Scripture, we get a glimpse of what happens when we place too much trust in such “godly” advisers—especially when their words become less and less in line with God’s will.

Frightful folly

Little is known about Ahithophel, whom Scripture describes as King David’s counselor and Jehoiada and Abiathar’s predecessor (1 Chron. 27:33–34). As Jehoiada is a chief priest (1 Chron. 27:5), and Abiathar is a priest (1 Sam. 23:9), it is likely that Ahithophel is also a member of a priestly clan and serves as God’s representative and spokesperson. No wonder David and Absalom sought him as a counselor.

Securing Ahithophel’s support for his rebellion helps Absalom draw many followers to his cause (2 Sam. 15:12). The ambitious prince must have known the extent of Ahithophel’s influence, because he makes sure that Ahithophel will participate in his treasonous plans.

Scripture is silent about why Ahithophel betrays David and supports Absalom’s devious scheme. Maybe he was disgruntled with David’s leadership, or maybe Absalom offered him something he could not turn down. The only thing we know for certain is that Absalom handpicks Ahithophel as a coconspirator (2 Sam. 15:31).

David, however, has a long list of valiant warriors on his side. Why would Absalom choose Ahithophel over them?

The answer lies in a short description of Ahithophel: “Now in those days the advice Ahithophel gave was like that of one who inquires of God. That was how both David and Absalom regarded all of Ahithophel’s advice.” (2 Sam. 16:23)

The royal family’s deep-seated trust in Ahithophel can only have arisen out of a long track record of giving wise and godly advice. Absalom held so much respect for Ahithophel that he wanted the counselor’s support. David looked so highly to Ahithophel that he dreaded the fact that his counselor had sided with Absalom. All David could do was pray in desperation, “Lord, turn Ahithophel’s counsel into foolishness.” (15:31)

Ahithophel’s subsequent advice to Absalom shows how God answers David’s prayer. The counselor goes from being God’s representative to becoming a parodic prophet when he tells Absalom to sleep with his father’s concubines so that “all Israel will hear that you have made yourself obnoxious to your father, and the hands of everyone with you will be more resolute.” Absalom gladly engaged in these immoral acts (16:21–22).

What went wrong here? Was Ahithophel unaware of God’s moral standards?

In my view, Ahithophel’s counsel is simply a means to an end. Absalom’s illicit behavior is not about satisfying his sexual appetite, but about displaying power and showing the people of Israel who truly wields it.

Absalom’s actions make him odious before his father. David cannot do anything but flee for safety and ask God to thwart Ahithophel’s plans. This suggests that, at this stage, David is no longer able to address his son’s betrayal publicly because he no longer possesses the power to hold Absalom accountable for what he has done.

What is most troubling is that Ahithophel seems to have no qualms about advising Absalom to engage in sin, all for the sake of displaying power in hopes of getting Israel’s support. Ahithophel’s willingness to compromise moral standards shows that no one is immune to the temptation to acquire power and influence, regardless of the cost.

Fatal consequences

Besides acting as a mouthpiece for immorality, Ahithophel exemplifies how damaging hubris can be. When the counselor volunteers to lead an army to pursue and attack David while he is “weary and weak,” Absalom and Israel’s elders consider this a “good” plan (2 Sam. 17:1–3).

Ahithophel now presumes that he can lead an army to fight against Israel’s best warriors and appears to regard King David as prey to be hunted down. Here, he seems to have overestimated his capabilities to lead an army against what is arguably Israel’s best and most experienced soldiers.

While Absalom is conspiring with Ahithophel, David asks his friend, Hushai the Arkite, to stay in the king’s palace to alert him of any impending danger (2 Sam. 15:32–37). Unexpectedly, Absalom reaches out to Hushai to seek his counsel on the best way to defeat his father (2 Sam. 17:5).

Hushai says that Ahithophel’s advice is “not good” because David and his men are experienced warriors, and Ahithophel and his army will not be able to defeat them. Instead, he encourages Absalom to gather all of Israel, lead them into battle, and ambush David.

The errant prince and his cronies experience a change of heart: “The advice of Hushai the Arkite is better than that of Ahithophel” (2 Sam. 17:14).

In convincing Absalom to adopt his plan over Ahithophel’s, Hushai is trying to protect the king. As an added precaution, Hushai sends messengers to warn David of the threat on his life, and the king manages to escape death when he crosses the Jordan River at night instead of remaining in the wilderness (vv. 15–16, 22).

After learning that Absalom chose to support and follow Hushai’s advice, Ahithophel takes his own life (v. 23). Suicide may seem like an excessive response to having his counsel rejected. But Ahithophel may have done so upon realizing that he would not have influence over Absalom if the latter became king. That Absalom chose to follow Hushai’s advice instead may have added to Ahithophel’s humiliation. Also absent in Ahithophel’s response is repenting and seeking forgiveness from King David.

Scripture beseeches us to “do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit” (Phil. 2:3), but our actions and decisions sometimes reflect self-aggrandizement, desire for control, and unrepentant hearts. Like Ahithophel, we may place our yearning for power—consciously or otherwise—above morality, ethics, national interest, people’s safety, loyalty, and friendship.

Beyond face value

Ahithophel’s life trajectory shows us that power and influence are like perfume: A little of it can make us smell good, but once we start ingesting it, we are poisoning ourselves. Someone described as a “man of God” is not immune to being tempted by and grasping for power. A trusted adviser’s lust for power may engender disastrous results, not only for himself or herself, but also for the congregations he or she is a part of.

The Ahithophels in our churches may be wise guides who shepherd us in love and lead us toward joyfully obeying God’s plans and purposes. Or they may act as wicked puppeteers who can significantly change a church’s direction in order to fulfill their own agenda. As CT’s editor in chief Russell Moore writes, “When the calling outweighs the thirst for power, the result can be very good. But when the will to power is stronger, the result can be terrible.”

The Word of God is infallible, but those who teach and interpret it are not. I encourage fellow pastors and church leaders who seek wisdom from the Ahithophels in their midst to be grounded in God’s Word and to continually cultivate the gift of spiritual discernment. Those who listen must listen cautiously, like the Bereans who “examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true” (Acts 17:11).

If you serve as an Ahithophel in your church, I exhort you to constantly examine whether your words are consistent with God’s teaching and whether you are free from any selfish agendas. Those who speak into church leaders’ ears, minds, and hearts have the power to influence for good or evil, and this power can easily be abused.

Ahithophel’s story need not be ours. Misguided counsel, moral failure, or betrayal can be addressed in ways that bring life rather than death. This begins with genuine repentance for the hurt caused by our wrongdoing to fellow believers and the church. If you have wandered in the ways of Ahithophel, hold onto what Proverbs 24:16 says: “Though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again.”

Samson Uytanlet has been involved in pastoral and teaching ministry in the Philippines for more than 25 years. Books he has written include Matthew: A Pastoral and Contextual Commentary and Manual for Sojourners: A Study on Peter’s Use of Scripture and Its Relevance Today.

Theology

Imagine Dragons More Biblically

The Chinese boat festival reminds us that Revelation’s serpent transcends Western and Eastern cultural concepts, say Asian biblical scholars.

A team participating in the international Dragon Boat Festival rows past several empty dragon boats.

A team participating in the international Dragon Boat Festival rows past several empty dragon boats.

Christianity Today June 20, 2023
Patrick Lin / Stringer / Getty

Most times, you hear the dragon boats before you see them.

Jumanji-style drum beats fill the air, pounding out a steady rhythm as a 20-strong crew paddles in sync on long, sleek boats in a bid to outrace one another. But the intensity of these competitions aren’t the only eye-catching feature during the Dragon Boat Festival, which takes place on the fifth day of the fifth month in the lunar calendar and falls on June 22 this year.

The boats’ visually arresting designs also play a part in enticing crowds of curious onlookers. Every boat bears a fierce-looking dragon head on its bow, with two horns, piercing eyes, and a wide-open mouth filled with sharp teeth.

Most Chinese Christians do not see any issue with observing or participating in the Dragon Boat Festival, whether through the boat races or in eating savory, sticky rice dumplings known as zongzi (粽子). However, they may regard dragons negatively because of how these fabled creatures are depicted in Scripture.

It’s important to dispel misconceptions about these mythical beings in Chinese culture and develop a fuller understanding of what dragons in the Bible refer to, the biblical scholars CT interviewed say.

Chinese people often have furniture or jewelry bearing images of dragons, as they symbolize prosperity, luck, blessing, and wisdom in Chinese culture. The fantastical beasts are also emblems of imperial power: Chinese emperors were described as “the dragon” and often wore a robe emblazoned with a dragon to represent their “divine and omnipotent rule.”

But some pastors in Malaysia and Hong Kong, as well as at Chinese churches in the US, tell believers to destroy these items because they are evil, says K. K. Yeo, a New Testament professor at Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary, who was born and raised in Borneo, Malaysia. Christians whose Chinese names contain the character long (龙) for dragon may even be encouraged to change them.

“Assuming that the Revelation 12 dragon is Western and reading the Western meaning of ‘dragons’ into the Chinese dragon is a major flaw in biblical interpretation,” Yeo said. “This is a misunderstanding, and therefore a simplistic way of condemning Chinese culture flat out.”

Wordplay

In the Chinese Union Version (CUV) of the Bible, the character long (龙) for the word dragon appears 138 times. In the Old Testament, it is typically found in transliterations of biblical names such as Absalom (押沙龙), says Chee-Chiew Lee from the School of Theology (Chinese) at Singapore Bible College.

The character is mostly used to represent dragon in the Book of Revelation. In the CUV, it appears in verses that mention the red dragon (12:3), the beast with two horns that speaks like a dragon (13:11), and when an angel catches the dragon—also described as an ancient serpent or a devil—and binds him for a thousand years (20:2).

Only one Bible translation, the Worldwide Chinese Version, uses the Mandarin characters for the phrase evil snake (魔蛇) instead of dragon in Revelation, Lee said.

To accurately grasp what Scripture refers to when speaking of dragons, we have to recognize that the Bible was situated in ancient Near East culture, the biblical scholars interviewed by CT emphasized.

In such a polytheistic environment, a god often battles with—and defeats—an opponent that is usually portrayed as a serpent. A Babylonian myth, for example, records the god Marduk fighting with the serpentine sea goddess Tiamat, while a Canaanite Ugaritic tale shows the god Baal at loggerheads with Lotan, a seven-headed sea monster whose name means “coiled.”

In the King James Version, the Hebrew word tannîn is translated as dragon in verses like Jeremiah 51:34 and Nehemiah 2:13. The Hebrew word livyāṯān appears in the Greek Septuagint as either ophis or drakon, and the latter word may be one reason why these ancient beasts became known as “dragons” in English, says Lee.

“The problem when translating [these words] as ‘dragon’ is that you think of the medieval dragon, not the Jewish serpent,” Lee said. “The medieval dragon has wings. In the Hebrew tradition, it has no wings and no feet. It’s more like a snake than a lizard. It doesn’t have fire spewing from its mouth.”

Readers of Chinese versions of Scripture may also see dragons through a cultural lens.

In Chinese mythology, dragons have scaly, slinky bodies and are wingless, although male dragons have the ability to fly to the heavens and cause rain to occur. (Female dragons oversee earthly water bodies.) Dragons exist in many different realms—from the sky to the sea and the underworld—and exert control over them.

Protestant translators wanted Chinese believers to leave the potentially idolatrous aspect of culture behind, and so connected long to negative imagery in the CUV, which was published in 1919. But an accurate reading of long in Scripture requires understanding that there are two senses in translation, Lee says.

The first involves a translation of language: In English and Chinese Bibles, the words dragon and long, respectively, are different symbols and represent different mythic animals. The second refers to a translation of culture, wherein a symbol that denotes something in one culture need not be totally equivalent in another culture.

For example, said Lee, “If, in the Chinese culture, receiving a gift means you need to open it after your giver leaves, it doesn’t translate that all cultures must do the same.”

For believers, this all means that the biblical symbol of the snake or serpent as evil does not imply that dragons in Chinese culture are evil.

“The Chinese understanding of ‘dragon’ is different from the ancient Near Eastern [understanding], which is used in the Bible. These are two civilizations that are not the same,” Yeo said. Instead, he suggests understanding long as er long (恶龙), or “evil dragon,” to bring out a clearer understanding of the beast in Revelation.

Fallacious assumptions

One danger in always reading long as a representation of evil can occur when Chinese Christians reject their culture in its entirety, Asian biblical scholars say.

“Without learning the hermeneutics of metaphors and symbols, people tend to equate symbols with reality or ontology rather than [seeing] symbols as cultural expressions,” Lee explains. “Symbols are dependent on their culture, and their use in that culture is rather fixed.”

In her Mandarin-language seminary courses, Lee uses examples of common cultural customs to demonstrate how symbols are imbued with meaning from their particular cultures. The giving of red packets during the Lunar New Year signifies a festive season in Chinese culture, but when it comes to other local celebrations like Hari Raya Puasa (what Eid al-Fitr is known as in Singapore), people exchange green packets, not red, because the color green symbolizes “paradise, eternity, and wisdom” in Islam.

In China, such misconceptions about Scripture and culture were more pervasive in the 1980s and ’90s, says Zhang San, a pastor in Shanghai (he is using a pseudonym for security reasons). Christians in China refrained from wearing clothes with dragon imagery and did not participate in dragon boat festivals. Many also refused to sing a popular patriotic song, “Descendants of the Dragon,” because they felt that believers were not descendants of Satan, who is referred to as a dragon in Revelation 20:2.

This is no longer an issue for churches in China today because of improvements in biblical literacy, says Zhang. Besides understanding that tannîn is used to describe various sea creatures like whales, crocodiles, and serpents, churches in the country have also moved from more literal to more allegorical expositions of Revelation.

Another danger in understanding long as evil may arise when this interpretation results in a “very distorted sense of eschatology,” said Yeo. Upon rejecting Chinese culture by deeming it evil and thinking that it will be ultimately destroyed, some might think that Western culture is better, whether consciously or subconsciously, Yeo says.

This perception of the West’s superiority is problematic to Yeo: “All cultures have their good points. All are also fallen. Once you have a comparative superior-inferior culture, you are going to have ethnocentrism, racism, nationalism, and a colonial mentality.”

Salvific connections

These misconceptions may persist in some parts of Asia. But Chinese Christians don’t see any conflict with their faith when participating in the Dragon Boat Festival, because the event has cultural and historical roots rather than religious ones, Yeo says.

At the same time, Christians do not have a reputation for evangelizing during the Dragon Boat Festival. Zhang, the Shanghai pastor, attributes this lack of engagement among Christians in China to the country’s rapid urbanization and strong atheistic education, which has “removed and cleaned the existence of civil religion.”

“Compared to urbanized China, the Chinese diaspora in Taiwan, Malaysia, and Hong Kong has a more ‘thick’ culture of superstition and religion” to differentiate them from other segments of society, said Zhang.

Churches also tend to be more active during another event in the lunar calendar, the Hungry Ghost Festival, because of its Buddhist and Taoist roots and because it often engenders fear of evil spirits and questions around mortality, Yeo says.

Nevertheless, Chinese Christians can explore using the origin story for the Dragon Boat Festival as an opening for the gospel.

While some say this tradition arose because of superstitious villagers in China who worshiped a dragon god and held dragon boat races to fend off misfortune and seek divine blessing, most Chinese people attribute the event’s origins to royal advisor Qu Yuan’s heroic patriotism.

Qu Yuan was a poet and political figure in the third-century state of Chu, or ancient China. During the period of the Warring States, Qu Yuan warned his king that neighboring state Qiu was a threat to Chu. The king failed to heed his advice and banished him instead. Upon seeing his homeland descend into turmoil, a despairing Qu Yuan took his own life by drowning in the Mi Luo River.

One version of this account says that farmers took dragon boats out on the water to save Qu Yuan’s life, while another says that rice dumplings were thrown into the river to feed fish and a river dragon, thereby preventing his body from being consumed.

Many Chinese people regard Qu Yuan as a beloved figure who transcends “the simple story of his self-sacrifice, coming to represent the very embodiment of patriotism.” Chinese believers, however, can take Qu Yuan’s story a step further by teasing out its connections with Christian themes.

“The biblical narrative provides us with a larger, more persuasive narrative on why a heroic event is not simply about Chinese history but has Christian faith motifs connected with it,” Yeo said. “In the Christian sense, he is like a prophetic figure standing for justice and people’s rights.”

Believers can use Qu Yuan’s heroism as a means of pointing toward the Christian idea of martyrdom, which talks of dying for God in pursuit of justice, love, and fidelity, Yeo added. Stories like these can also raise valuable questions about the relationship between Chinese history and Christian faith: “That’s the kind of work the church should do, linking the two rather than a dualistic, binary thinking.”

When reading and sharing about long in Scripture, Chinese Christians can do this well by deepening their understanding of cultural anthropology.

Dragons in Chinese culture convey a desire for security, peace, blessing, joy, and power, and these can be a helpful starting point for believers to share about a yearning for a greater and more enduring hope, Yeo says.

“It all has to do with the biblical understanding of salvation. Find those themes—salvation of God and Christ for humanity—and how the source—God and his Word—can bring about good news.”

Inkwell

There are No Children Named Rahab

Inkwell June 19, 2023
Photography by Sabina Sturzu

There are no children named Rahab.
No one names their daughter Rahab.

Growing up, I knew an Esther.
She had blonde curly hair and was a soprano in the women’s choir.
There was a Faith, also in the choir.

I had a kindergarten teacher named Miss Ruth.

Throughout all my years of childhood birthday parties, elementary school tests, and mindless
scanning as a grocery store cashier – I knew not one Rahab.

Because no one names their daughter Rahab.

I remember being reminded of my own name rather unexpectedly last fall.

I was working as a restaurant hostess late one night.
My fingers twirled the coiled telephone cord as I triple-checked takeout orders and forced banter
with customers growing impatient with wait times.

A woman walked in.
She was dressed in black and wore hiking boots left torn from years of steady use. I remember
the thick smell of cigarettes wafting from her hair as she took it out of its messy ponytail. Her
lips were cracked from the December cold, but her smile was genuine and warm.

We began to talk, and she explained to me that she was delivering food to her daughter who was
on crutches after a sports injury.

“You’re a good mom,” I said.

She offered a small smile and asked me what my name was.

Grace.

She paused for a moment to let the smile spread fully across her cheeks before it stopped at the
wrinkled corners of her eyes.

“Your mom loves Jesus, doesn’t she?”

I remember being struck by the pointedness of her question.

“Yes, she does.”

She pulled out a cheap cross necklace that was hidden under her shirt and toyed with it before
saying, “I love Jesus with all my heart.”

I handed her the takeout orders, and she left.
I clocked out, drove quietly home, and never thought about the interaction again.
It was just a regular Friday night shift.

The memory did not hit me again until this past summer.
There, it met me rather fiercely:
“Your mom loves Jesus, doesn’t she?”

She posed it as a question that had only one possible answer.
As if the two could not possibly be separated from each other.

My mother loves Jesus, therefore she named me Grace.
Because my mother loves Jesus, she named me —her only daughter — Grace.

But there are no children named Rahab.
No one names their daughter Rahab.

Rahab.

A woman of ill profession.
No, say it.
She was a prostitute.
A woman who commodified her body.

Better still, a woman who despite the weight of her sins looked toward God and said, “Here is
my mustard seed of faith,
” and chose to protect the Israelite men.
A Canaanite woman aiding what to her would have been enemy spies.
A harlot hiding those sent from Joshua, Moses’s successor.

Yet there are no children named Rahab.
No one names their daughter Rahab.

Her name is absent from the lips of mothers as they call for their children.
Her significance abandoned by the speakers from the pulpit.
Her occupation admonished by the members of the pew.

Rahab.

A woman mentioned by name in the Gospel of Matthew.
Not Rahab the prostitute, but Rahab the mother of Boaz.
Boaz who married Ruth.
Ruth the mother of Obed.
Obed the father of Jesse.
Jesse the father of King David.

Oh, how good God is.

I propose this: every moment we are not on our knees in awe of Him, we do not understand.

Him, the master storyteller.
Is this not He who took the blemished and broken thread of His people and spun it into gold?
He who looked at the mangled corpse of creation and spoke upon it redemption?

Him, the divine author.
For what man could pen such brilliance?

King David the father of Solomon.
Solomon, whose descendant was Joseph.
Joseph, the father of Jesus.

Oh, how beautiful God is.

And there is Rahab amongst it all.
A member of the lineage of Christ.

The same Christ whose whisper rebuked the winds and whose skin healed the sick.
Is this not Jesus, the Son of God?
He who carried Death upon a splintered cross, yet awoke triumphant on the third day?

That splintered cross, a Roman torture device.
The same cross symbolized in the cheap necklace the woman held when she asked me my name.

Grace.
My mother loves Jesus, so she named me Grace.

Rahab was flawed.
As am I, horrifically so.
I have committed my own sins, and yet cast stones upon others in moments I should have shown
grace.

Ironic, isn’t it?

Yes, she was flawed.
But oh, she was faithful.

I finish with this:

The fall of Eve, the hesitancy of Moses, the refusal of Jonah, the sins of King David, the crimes
of the Apostle Paul — and yet children still bear their names.

There are no children named Rahab.
No one names their daughter Rahab.

Rahab.

Where some may find a scarlet letter, let there be weeping of victory.

Oh, how good God is.
Oh, how beautiful God is.

Grace I. Teater is a freelance writer and journalist. When she is not searching for a new story, she can be found at a used bookstore. This is her first poetry publication.

Theology

C.S. Lewis Warned Us About Close Encounters of the Evangelical Kind

If UFOs are real, exercise some humility before sharing the gospel.

C. S. Lewis had some questions for Christians to ask in case of first contact.

C. S. Lewis had some questions for Christians to ask in case of first contact.

Christianity Today June 16, 2023
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch / Source Images: WikiMedia Commons / Getty

A Las Vegas family called 911 in April to report a disturbance in their backyard. The city has its share of crime so that couldn’t have surprised the emergency dispatcher too much, but then the man on the phone said, “They’re not human.”

The beings, he said, were 8 feet or maybe 9 or 10 feet tall, with big, shiny eyes.

“They look like aliens to us. Big eyes. They have big eyes. Like, I can’t explain it, and big mouth,” he said. “They’re 100 percent not human.”

Police responded but they didn’t find aliens or spaceship—just one freaked-out family. Leaving the house, one of the officers said, “If those 9-foot beings come back, don’t call us alright?”

Stories of close encounters have been lent some credence in recent days by official reports that the Pentagon and NASA are both studying “unidentified anomalous phenomena,” the fancy alternative title for undefined flying objects. Recently a whistleblower came out with claims the US government has secretly recovered and hidden “craft of unknown origin.”

If there are aliens in our collective backyard, I want to know: Where are they from? How did they get here? Are they friendly?

And as a Christian, I have another question: Should I share the gospel with them?

That may seem like a question only a theologian from the future could address, but C. S. Lewis was wrestling with the idea decades before the United States and the Soviet Union began to compete to send people into space.

Lewis’s investigation of the theological questions that would be raised by an alien encounter began when he was a child. He was captivated by H. G. Wells and science fiction space adventures.

“The idea of other planets exercised upon me a peculiar, heady attraction, which was quite different from any other of my literary interests,” Lewis writes in Surprised by Joy, his spiritual autobiography. “This was something coarser and stronger.”

After his Christian conversion as an adult, he maintained a fascination with outer space. In 1937, he and J. R. R. Tolkien lamented the lack of good science fiction stories, so they pledged to address the issue themselves. Tolkien would write a time-travel book, while Lewis tackled space. That same year, Lewis had a conversation with an atheist student who said the significance of humanity would be tied to our evolution during the next phase of “planet-jumping.”

That made him think back to Wells’s conception of human goodness in War of the Worlds. He realized neither the student nor Wells understood how humanity was fallen.

While Tolkien never finished his part of the agreement, Lewis wrote a space trilogy, starting with Out of the Silent Planet. Earth is called the “silent planet” because in the story it is cut off from the rest of the unfallen planets in the solar system.

In Lewis’s mind, we should not assume any moral supremacy to life from other planets. He explained this more during a presentation to Anglican leaders in 1945.

“If Earth has been specially sought by God (which we don’t know) that may not imply that it is the most important thing in the universe,” he said, “but only that it has strayed.”

A year after the Soviet Union sent Sputnik 1 into orbit around the Earth in 1957, Lewis argued that discovery of life on other planets wouldn’t challenge Christian theology very much. He admitted the discovery of extraterrestrials could, however, raise questions about the Incarnation. The idea that God became human to redeem the world might not make sense if there was intelligent life on many other worlds as well.

He set out five questions to help us think through problem.

1. Is there animal life somewhere other than Earth?

Finding algae or plants growing on Mars or across the galaxy wouldn’t have significant theological ramifications related to the Incarnation.

2. Do these creatures possess a “rational soul”?

If the discovered creatures had no moral capacity, then we wouldn’t have to worry too much about whether Jesus’ incarnation would be efficacious for them.

“There would be no sense in offering to a creature … a gift which that creature was by its nature incapable either of desiring or of receiving,” he wrote. “We teach our sons to read but not our dogs. The dogs prefer bones.”

3. Are aliens, like humanity, fallen?

It could be that humans are the only “lost sheep” that the Good Shepherd needed to go save. Lewis noted that non-Christians “seem to think that the Incarnation implies some particular merit or excellence in humanity. But of course it implies just the reverse: a particular demerit and depravity.” Christ came to save sinners. If aliens aren’t sinners, then they would not need Jesus like we do.

4. If they are fallen, did Christ die for them?

It’s possible to imagine that Jesus died on Calvary to save sinners on other planets as well. That might stretch our ideas of the Incarnation too far, though, since Christ become incarnate specifically as a human. Perhaps, instead, Jesus has “been incarnate in other worlds than earth and so saved other races than ours,” Lewis said. We know the love of God stretched as far as our lost souls and shouldn’t assume it would go no further.

5. Is the mode of redemption we know the only possible way for Christ to redeem?

At the same time, Lewis argued, our view of salvation is shaped by our limited experience. Could there not be other redemptive plans for other planets? “Spiritual as well as physical conditions might differ widely in different worlds,” he said.

This question, according to Lewis, moves from “what is not merely unknown but, unless God should reveal it, wholly unknowable.” The theoretical question could become real, though, with the discovery of UFOs in Las Vegas or elsewhere.

If the answer to all five of Lewis’s questions is “yes,” then we are left with the conclusion that cosmic redemption comes through the Incarnation of Jesus, which means it comes through humanity.

“This would no doubt give man a pivotal position,” Lewis writes. “But such a position does not imply any superiority in ours or any favoritism in God.”

Nor does it grant us the responsibility for intergalactic evangelization. Lewis warned that we should not immediately take upon ourselves the responsibility for converting creatures from other worlds, because we have demonstrated ourselves untrustworthy on the only planet we’ve known. In our fallen nightmare state, we, as humanity, inevitably mistreat strangers.

“Man destroys or enslaves every species he can,” Lewis wrote. “Civilized man murders, enslaves, cheats, and corrupts savage man.”

Not everyone, of course, immediately tries to subjugate every stranger they meet. But history has taught us, Lewis said, that those who will venture into space and in contact with the theoretical aliens “will be the needy and greedy adventurer or the ruthless technical expert.”

We might band together as Christians and send missionaries first, as better emissaries of the gospel message, to make first contact. But let’s not be so confident in that approach, either.

“‘Guns and gospel’ have been horribly combined in the past,” Lewis said. “The missionary’s holy desire to save souls has not always been kept quite distinct from the arrogant desire … to (as he calls it) ‘civilize’ the (as he calls them) ‘natives.’”

As Lewis’s health faded, the idea that we might reach other planets became increasingly tangible for humanity. Both the US and the Soviet Union launched crafts to venture to Venus, and five months before Lewis died, the Soviet Union sent its first spaceship slingshotting around Mars.

Those encounters with other worlds were exciting. As are the potential encounters in our day, from the 911 call in Las Vegas to testimony before Congress to the astronauts figuring out how to establish an outpost on the moon.

But Lewis, thinking as a theologian of this future, reminds us to be concerned first about our own moral limitations, recognizing our capacity for exploration is never separable from our capacity for exploitation.

If the Great Commission takes us into the great cosmos, Lewis would remind us to walk humbly on the surface of other planets.

Aaron Earls writes about faith, culture, and C. S. Lewis at The Wardrobe Door. He is also the senior writer at Lifeway Research.

News

On a Wing and a Prayer: Mike Pence Hitches Presidential Hopes on Fellow Evangelicals

However, convincing faithful voters to choose him over Trump or DeSantis will not be easy.

Mike Pence in Iowa

Mike Pence in Iowa

Christianity Today June 16, 2023
Charlie Neibergall / AP Photo

Around Mike Pence’s 40th birthday, his wife Karen booked a trip to a ranch near the Roosevelt National Forest in Colorado. Pence was mulling over a second run for Congress after a failed bid years earlier. As the Pences sat atop a bluff in the park, they noticed two red-tailed hawks riding a hot-air current, rising higher and higher.

“We should step off this cliff and make ourselves available to God,” Karen Pence remembers telling her husband. “And this time instead of ambition driving us, we should allow God to lift us up to wherever he wants to use us, with no flapping.”

Last Wednesday, on his 64th birthday, Pence stepped off that metaphorical cliff once again when he announced his candidacy for the Republican presidential nomination. In a speech peppered with biblical references at the Future Farmers of America Enrichment Center in Ankeny, Iowa, he vowed to fight “the radical Left,” defend the Constitution, and oppose abortion, among a laundry list of other conservative promises.

Iowa’s caucus is seen as a bellwether for the GOP’s primary race. It is also a litmus test for a candidate’s popularity with evangelical Christians: Nearly two-thirds of caucus participants in 2016 were evangelicals, according to an entrance poll.

Pence, who will appear at the Family Leadership Summit, a gathering of conservative Christians in Des Moines next month, is hoping his evangelical credentials will garner the support of his fellow believers in the state. And if he wins the caucus, he could find himself at the top of a crowded field of Republican hopefuls led by former President Donald Trump and Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis.

On paper Pence would seem like the ideal choice for evangelical voters: a faithfully married born-again Christian running what may be the most conservative campaign thus far. Pence ticks the box on every major issue evangelicals list as important—from abortion to Second Amendment rights, LGBT issues and religious freedom. There’s no questioning that the former vice president sees his faith as deeply intertwined with his political journey.

“I came to faith in Jesus Christ as a man in college, and I started a lifelong love affair with the Constitution of the United States for all of my adult life,” he said in Iowa.

But Pence is badly trailing Trump and DeSantis. The two lead the former vice president by double digits in national polls. As a result pollsters and political commentators have written his campaign off. Does Pence have a chance against them, especially among evangelical voters?

Ralph Reed, founder of the conservative advocacy group Faith and Freedom Coalition, thinks so.

“Mike is as effective a messenger in reaching voters of faith as anyone I’ve ever seen in my career. And I think he’s going to get a very fair hearing, from not just evangelical voters but all primary voters,” said Reed, who describes Pence as a “dear friend.”

Reed highlighted that Pence can claim credit for Trump administration policies popular among evangelicals, such as moving the US embassy in Israel to Jerusalem and appointing three conservative justices to the Supreme Court who helped overturn Roe v. Wade.

According to at least one poll evangelicals in Iowa seem inclined to give Pence a fair hearing. About 58 percent view him favorably, a similar share enjoyed by Trump, though the former running mates were both edged by DeSantis.

Mike Demastus, pastor of the Fort Des Moines Church of Christ, says evangelicals in Iowa are not yet sold on a candidate. Demastus has helped organize meetings between pastors and some of the candidates, including a recent one with Trump. In his view, the front runners are Trump and DeSantis, who is Catholic, but even then he says they cannot assume they have clinched evangelical support.

Consider Trump. In a meeting with about 50 pastors from Iowa, Demastus says Trump gave “lackluster answers” to questions about abortion and same-sex marriage. Trump’s refusal to commit to a federal ban on abortion has invited criticism from some evangelicals.

“Even though after the meeting Trump said that he has evangelical support, that’s not the case from that room,” Demastus said, speculating that it was unlikely a majority of the pastors gathered supported him.

Bob Vander Plaats, an evangelical leader whom media often refer to as the “kingmaker” for his role in organizing support for GOP nominees in Iowa, also has found Trump’s stance on abortion lackluster. Last month he tweeted, “The #IowaCaucuses are wide open” after Trump said a six-weeks abortion ban signed by DeSantis in Florida was “too harsh.”

On the other hand, Pence has said he supports a federal ban on abortion and, in his speech in Iowa, criticized Trump for not committing to the same.

“Sanctity of life has been our party’s calling for a half a century long before Donald Trump was a part of it, but now he treats it as an inconvenience, even blaming our election losses in 2022 on overturning Roe v. Wade,” Pence said.

This is another sore spot for evangelicals with Trump. After the 2022 midterm elections Trump pinned blame on lack of evangelical support, even accusing some of his former faith advisers of “disloyalty” for not backing his presidential campaign.

Yet that may not be enough to convince someone like Demastus to choose Pence over Trump or DeSantis. The pastor remembers when Pence was governor of nearby Indiana.

“I remember when he had the power to hold the line with the strongest piece of religious freedom legislation ever put together in our nation, and as soon as he received some backlash from the corporate community, he caved,” Demastus said, referring to Indiana’s Religious Freedom Restoration Act. While Pence signed the bill, it was later amended after critics argued the law would allow businesses to discriminate against LGBT individuals.

Terry Amann, another Iowa pastor involved with the candidate meetings, also seemed disgruntled with Trump’s position on abortion, but he is not sold on Pence either.

Pence, he said, talks “good evangelical language,” but Amann disagrees with his refusal to pardon people who participated in the January 6 attack on the US Capitol. Some of the insurrectionists called for Pence’s execution after he rejected Trump’s unfounded calls to not certify the election results. A modest majority of evangelicals agreed with Pence’s decision, according to a poll from January 2021.

Among Hispanic evangelicals, Pence’s chances seem slimmer still. Samuel Rodriguez, president of the National Hispanic Christian Leadership Conference, an association of Latino evangelicals, admires Pence’s faith but sees the vice president struggling to resonate with Hispanic evangelicals.

“I can’t deny that his faith is beautiful, and it’s inspiring, and the public expression of his faith is something that is admirable and something to be emulated,” Rodriguez said. “With that being said, Mike Pence will not be on top of the list as pertains to a viable candidate for the Hispanic community.”

For Hispanic evangelicals, Rodriguez says the top choices are Trump, DeSantis, and South Carolina Sen. Tim Scott. (Rodriguez previously served as a faith advisor for the George W. Bush, Barack Obama, and Trump administrations. He prayed at Trump’s inauguration.)

Perhaps Pence understands the odds he faces. In Iowa he ended his announcement with an entreaty for prayers.

“I ask for your prayers, for me, for my family, and for all of the American people,” Pence said. “We don’t know what the future holds, but we know who holds the future.”

News

Supreme Court Upholds Law on Native Adoptions

Native American Christians, involved in both their tribes and in child placement situations, know the complexity of these cases better than most.

Alabama-Coushatta Tribe of Texas, Tribal Council Vice Chairperson, Nita Battise, wipes away tears outside the US Supreme Court after it upheld the Indian Child Welfare Act.

Alabama-Coushatta Tribe of Texas, Tribal Council Vice Chairperson, Nita Battise, wipes away tears outside the US Supreme Court after it upheld the Indian Child Welfare Act.

Christianity Today June 15, 2023
Mandel Ngan / AFP via Getty Images

Native American tribes will retain priority for placement in the adoption of Native American children after a US Supreme Court ruling on Thursday.

The high court rejected all challenges to the federal Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA) in a 7–2 ruling by Justice Amy Coney Barrett. Justices Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito dissented.

An evangelical couple, along with two other adoptive couples, had challenged the law on multiple grounds, one being that it hinders non-Native families from fostering and adopting Native American children.

The court rejected every argument and defended the fundamental constitutional principles behind ICWA.

“This case is about children who are among the most vulnerable: those in the child welfare system,” wrote Barrett in the decision. She shared a comment from a Choctaw chief who testified in Congress in 1978, when ICWA became a federal law: “Culturally, the chances of Indian survival are significantly reduced if our children, the only real means for the transmission of the tribal heritage, are to be raised in non-Indian homes and denied exposure to the ways of their people.”

Justice Neil Gorsuch, who handled many cases involving Native American affairs out West before coming to the high court, wrote a concurring opinion that detailed the history of the federal government forcing child removal from Native American families through boarding school initiatives, including through some missionary-run schools. He noted that surveys showed “approximately 25–35 percent of all Indian children [were] separated from their families” by 1974.

The court avoided the thorniest issue in its ruling: whether ICWA’s rules for child placement were unconstitutionally race-based. The challengers argued that ICWA ignores all other issues of children’s best interest in favor of placing them with a tribe member.

The court ruled that the plaintiffs did not have standing to bring that challenge. Justice Brett Kavanaugh, in a concurring opinion, said he hoped the court would consider that “serious” issue in the future.

It was an unexpected victory for the tribes. Even liberal justice Elena Kagan at oral arguments had expressed some skepticism about whether the law put the interests of the tribe over the “welfare” of children. Some states had passed state versions of ICWA in anticipation of it being overturned.

Christian adoption agencies did not file briefs in the case. One brief from the Christian Alliance for Indian Child Welfare gathered stories from Native children who said they were shuttled between foster homes or returned to abusive parents instead of going to a non-Native adoptive family because of ICWA.

Native American Christians have seen on the ground how messy and sensitive these foster and adoption cases can be. They say ICWA isn’t perfect, but in general they have supported the law. Adoption agency staffers say that all cases of child removal are painful and messy, not just ones involving ICWA.

“I celebrate the decision of the SCOTUS, as it recognizes the sovereignty of the indigenous nations located within the United States,” said Carol Bremer-Bennett, the head of World Renew, the relief arm of the Christian Reformed Church, in an email. Bremer-Bennett is herself Navajo and was adopted into a Dutch Reformed family. “Each child placement into a forever home is unique and often complicated. The goal should always be made with the best interest of providing a loving and stable home to nourish the whole child, including their ethnic and cultural identity. I know how cherished children are by every tribe and that we can and should trust those indigenous nations to make these placements with the best interest of each child at the heart.”

Bremer-Bennett’s adoption took place before ICWA, and it was a closed adoption, so she did not have paperwork to become an enrolled member of the Navajo nation. She struggled with grief over the disconnection from her tribe and not knowing her clan.

That also meant that under ICWA, she, a Navajo woman, would have a harder time adopting Native American children, something she and her husband felt called to do. They knew a Navajo birth mother who wanted them to adopt her child after the girl had been in a children’s home for years.

Bremer-Bennett wrote an article about her struggles, and Ted Charles, a Navajo from the Christian Reformed Church, contacted her.

“He said, ‘No Navajo should be without your clan. I’m going to adopt you as my sister,’” she recalled. “It wasn't a legal adoption. It was a ceremonial adoption.”

Now, thanks to that ceremonial adoption, when she introduces herself, she can say her clan. As she and her husband worked through the court process to adopt her daughter, she prayed with Charles constantly for seven days. A judge approved the adoption. Their daughter still has a relationship with her biological mother who is Navajo. Bremer-Bennett and her husband have also another adopted Navajo daughter.

“I have peace,” said Bremer-Bennett. “I know whose child I am. I know the Creator as my Savior, Redeemer, and parent and friend.”

Other Native American Christians working in adoption have emphasized serving vulnerable children through tribes and trying to keep children connected to their culture when possible.

Different cultures have different understandings of “what is best for the child,” said Charles Robinson, who is Choctaw and leads a Christian ministry to Native communities called The Red Road.

He and his wife have worked alongside families in the adoption process. If a child is adopted outside the tribe, he said, “it’s been very, very important to us and to the non-Native families adopting that the kids maintain and have an understanding of their tribal culture and families.”

Theology

On Building ‘Deeply Christian’ Racial Justice Movements

The NYC founders of Pray March Act want church-led activism to outlive news cycles and divisive politics.

Christianity Today June 15, 2023
Duané Viljoen / Pexels

James Roberson III scaled a ladder in downtown Brooklyn on June 2, 2020, with a megaphone in his hand, as protestors converged below him. He had expected a few hundred; thousands showed up.

One week earlier, Roberson—a married father of three and pastor of Bridge Church NYC—had watched the infamous video of George Floyd dying. He couldn’t believe the “total disregard for humanity.”

As a Christian, a pastor, and a Black man in America, he felt compelled to say something. Beyond the crowd in New York, his remarks have been viewed more than 19,000 times on Facebook Live.

“Anyone whose heart doesn’t break when you see that video, don’t ask me to explain why my heart breaks,” Roberson says, crying. “If your heart doesn’t break when you see something like that, please … don’t make me explain my rage.”

Roberson had spent decades explaining—particularly to his white evangelical friends—why the killings of Black men and women at the hands of law enforcement officers or white vigilantes were so painful and so personal.

He and a group of fellow local pastors and believers soon grew their grief and activism into a movement: Pray March Act (PMA). Their marches in Brooklyn, Long Island, and Minneapolis drew media attention in the aftermath of George Floyd’s death.

Their language was not filled with violent or hateful rhetoric but aimed at advocating for police and other enforcers of the law to regard and treat Black citizens with the same dignity and respect as their white counterparts.

“We wanted the protest to be deeply Christian,” Roberson said. “The cops are made in the image of God, just like George Floyd was made in the image of God. But we are against the practice of civic authorities seeing Black people as lesser than. And we need to speak truth to power.”

Three years in, they still pray, and they still march. But they realized the “act” part of the mission couldn’t be centered on chasing headlines. Their time would be better spent advocating for racial justice and equality on a local level.

Today, PMA’s small, core group of NYC churches holds online and in-person events that draw believers from across the city. Their key goals are to educate the public, pray for racial justice, and work to end racism.

This year, PMA held a large rally in Harlem on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Since then, PMA leaders have been studying the city’s proposed 2024 budget and advocating for projects that prioritize racial justice. On June 16, the group will screen a Juneteenth documentary in Brooklyn. Juneteenth: Faith & Freedom was produced by one of PMA’s founding members and director of communications, Rasool Berry.

Last year, after gathering input from public school teachers, community activists and government leaders, PMA identified three areas with some of the most glaring racial disparities in New York City: housing, education, and criminal justice. And like the city’s aging, labyrinthine subway system, everything is interconnected.

Safe, affordable housing is out of reach for huge swaths of the population. As a result, hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers live in public housing. And New York City is consistently ranked—by its own public advocate—as the worst landlord in the five boroughs.

Members of PMA make prayer a big part of their march against racial injustice.Courtesy of Pray March Act (PMA)
Members of PMA make prayer a big part of their march against racial injustice.

Housing, in turn, impacts the quality of schools in the area.

“Communities of wealth will always have an advantage towards education,” Roberson said. “And communities of poverty will always have a disadvantage. If the real estate's a certain price, the education's going to be a certain level.”

Wherever they moved, the Robersons got involved with their local public school’s Parent-Teacher Association (PTA). The PTA in Park Slope (one of the wealthiest, whitest neighborhoods in Brooklyn) generated over a million dollars, while the PTA in Flatbush (a majority-Black neighborhood) had $40. These two Brooklyn communities are on opposite sides of Prospect Park, just a mile apart.

George Sarkissian, an elder at Uptown Community Church in northern Manhattan, serves as PMA’s executive director. He has a unique vantage point as a city employee at NYC’s Department of Housing Preservation and Development. As chief of staff and deputy commissioner for external affairs, Sarkissian has an up-close view of the nation’s biggest city.

Sarkissian points to communities like Brownsville, Brooklyn, where 66% of the population is Black and the median household income is $40,000. Just 28% of fourth graders in Brownsville are performing at grade level in language arts. Fewer than one in five are proficient in math.

Across the East River in Lower Manhattan’s Financial District, 66% of the population is white, and the median household income is $151,000. About 83% of fourth graders are performing at grade level in English. Four in five are proficient in math.

“Those are just huge disparities,” Sarkissian said. “There’s a brokenness that’s really clear.’”

Just as a family’s ZIP code tends to determine the quality of education their children receive, success in school predicts the likelihood of a student going to prison later—and thus, the cycles of incarceration and poverty go around and around.

“There are plenty of neighborhoods that are doing just fine in New York City,” Sarkissian said. “I’ve always been interested in the neighborhoods that are struggling. … Those are the neighborhoods that the Lord has given me a heart to serve.”

Sarkissian invokes the Old Testament as inspiration for making the city a better place to live, pointing to Jeremiah 29—where “God's people are in Babylon, and God instructs them to seek the peace and prosperity of the city,” Sarkissian said.

He believes public policy is a tool the church can use to help cities thrive today. “The church has worked with government in the past to essentially accomplish kingdom goals,” Sarkissian said, “and there's no reason the church shouldn’t do it now.”

Cidra Sebastien is another PMA leader who believes prayer and public policy can work in tandem. Sebastien has been a New Yorker since the early 80s and is part of Renaissance Church NYC in Harlem. She serves as PMA’s director of organizing and leads the education group.

Sebastien wants to see NYC’s 1 million public school students have equal access to a great education. One of her passions is advocating for quality mental health care, particularly after three disruptive pandemic years that disproportionately affected Black and brown families.

“Students are bringing what they’re experiencing at home to their neighborhood school,” Sebastien said. “And yet, there are not enough trained, caring, culturally competent guidance counselors at schools.”

It’s not because great guidance counselors aren’t out there, Sebastien said. “It’s because the city has decided that’s not where they want to put their priority.” The ratio of guidance counselors to NYC public school students is 1:272. Even the very best counselor, Sebastien said, can’t effectively serve that many students at once. “It’s impossible, right? And so that’s something the members of PMA want to see us address,” Sebastien said. And that’s where one of PMA’s core tenets comes in: “We pray … because the task is bigger than us.”

“The only way we stay hopeful is because we’re the church,” Sarkissian said. “There’s a kingdom effort that we’re participating in, and that’s the big Jesus project to renew all things.”

With kingdom goals in mind, PMA members recently stood before government leaders to advocate for racial justice in NYC. They shared their vision at the city council’s budget hearing on May 24.

“It was the first time we publicly advocated for policy changes,” Sarkissian said, “addressing legislators who are negotiating the NYC budget, and identifying ourselves as members of PMA.”

James Roberson (middle), the president of PMA, helps lead a march against racial injustice.Courtesy of Pray March Act (PMA)
James Roberson (middle), the president of PMA, helps lead a march against racial injustice.

Three years after George Floyd’s death, Roberson prays more evangelical believers will incorporate racial justice into their theology. “You’ll find churches where their theology is about reaching people and seeing them go to heaven,” Roberson said. “But what about the conditions they’re in now?”

In the parable of the Good Samaritan, a man is attacked on the road to Jericho and left for dead. What if, Roberson asks, believers took a closer look at the road? “We take care of the guy. We help him out, but we don’t really evaluate the road to Jericho,” Roberson said. “We don’t really ask, ‘Why does that keep happening?’ And that’s what justice is about. Justice looks at the systems that are causing the poverty. And I believe the racial tension in our country is deeply spiritual.”

This Juneteenth, he sees an opportunity for white Christians to think about the privileges they enjoy and the ways their own families, churches, and communities contribute to inequality. He hopes more believers will examine America’s “road to Jericho.” That’s how efforts like Pray March Act can become sustainable movements; that’s how the church can become a “city on a hill.”

“I think what comes before evangelism is God’s glory,” Roberson said. “You have to be able to glorify God by loving your neighbor. “Certainly, I want my neighbor to experience God personally, but my first job is to have them experience God through my love and character. And the way I think we love the city is through the way we respond to the brokenness.”

Kristy Etheridge is a freelance writer and editor and a former TV news journalist. Originally from southeastern Pennsylvania, Kristy lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband, Dustin, and two young children.

News

Court Hears Closing Arguments in Brian Houston Case

Was the Hillsong founder covering up sexual abuse or trying to care for a survivor?

Brian Houston

Brian Houston

Christianity Today June 15, 2023
Marcus Ingram / Contributor / Getty / Edits by Christianity Today

Update: The court will rule on Brian Houston’s guilt on August 16.

Sydney court magistrate Gareth Christofi has been presented with two very different portraits of Hillsong megachurch founder Brian Houston.

According to the Crown prosecutor, making his final argument in court on Thursday, Houston is a liar. He did everything he could to conceal his father’s sexual abuse and protect his own reputation and power.

The defense, on the other hand, depicts Houston as an imperfect human doing his best in a difficult situation. Among other things, he sincerely believed that the survivor of his father’s abuse, by then a grown man, did not want him to go to police.

The survivor, Brett Sengstock, was present in the tiny courtroom in Downing Centre Courthouse in downtown Sydney for the closing arguments in Brian Houston’s trial. He sat just a few meters from Houston as two attorneys debated what the megachurch pastor should have done in 1999 when Sengstock told him what Frank Houston did to him when he was a boy in the 1970s.

Crown prosecutor Gareth Harrison said Brian Houston had “no reasonable excuse” for not reporting his father to the police.

“The Crown submits that the reason was that the accused was trying to protect the reputation of the church and his father,” Harrison said.

Harrison argued there was a culture of cover-up in Hillsong. The church insisted on dealing with everything in-house—including scandals. Houston was so confident in this protective culture, the prosecution argued, he told several people at his two churches explicit details about what his father did to a 7-year-old boy, knowing they wouldn’t report it to the police either.

At the same time, the prosecutor argued, Houston worked hard to control information about his father’s sexual abuse. He gave the board selective details and made sure that he was the only conduit between them and the victim. He told them the victim did not want to go to police and didn’t mention that Sengstock was actually wavering on that point.

Even if Sengstock had been adamant about not filing a report, though, that didn’t change Houston’s responsibility—or his motivation in concealing information, the prosecution argued.

Houston eventually spoke publicly about his father’s sexual abuse, but according to the prosecution, that was part of the cover-up too. He didn’t use the phrase sexual abuse or anything that would communicate a child had been raped. Instead, Houston spoke of a “serious moral failure” and a “very serious moral accusation.”

“These phrases have the intent of concealing the true extent of Frank Houston’s behavior,” Harrison said. The megachurch pastor wasn’t really being forthcoming, but was trying to squelch rumors.

“But why say anything in the sermon?” the magistrate asked.

“The cat was coming out of the bag,” Harrison said.

“But why help it out of the bag?”

“The rumors were building.”

The prosecution pointed out several specific instances where Houston’s account of what he told other ministers differed sharply from their recollections. He said he told one pastor “the full details,” but she testified she didn’t remember him giving specifics.

“It is beyond belief that she would have forgotten that graphic detail,” Harrison said. “He limited [the description] because he had to conceal what Frank Houston had done, and that theme runs through all the sermons and public announcements. He was restricting the information because that was what he had to do.”

The Crown concluded its case by declaring Brian Houston a liar, repeating the accusation several times: “He was not being honest.”

The core of the defense’s case is contained in the words reasonable excuse. Australian law says sexual crimes must be reported unless there is a reasonable excuse. In recent years, that has been amended to specify that if an adult survivor of sexual abuse asks that it not be reported, that is a reasonable excuse not to report it.

“You know if it happened now, there is a specific carve-out my client would be acquitted like this,” said attorney Phillip Boulten, snapping his fingers. “That is translatable back into when this happened, is my submission.”

Boulten argued the prosecution was overreaching, calling every difference of memory after decades a “lie.” He called the evidence that Houston was leading a four-year, church-wide coverup “so flimsy.”

He pointed out that much of the testimony against Houston involved people trying to remember or reconstruct what happened more than 20 years ago. Other evidence, like the victim’s mother’s diary from the late 1990s, left large gaps in the narrative.

“A lot of what my friend [the Crown prosecutor] says is assumption building or speculation,” Boulten told the court.

But his most important argument was that there is reasonable doubt over whether Houston was trying to care for a survivor. While some witnesses testified that Sengstock actually didn’t tell Houston not to go to the police or that he might have changed his mind if given the chance, that’s not how it appeared to Houston in 1999. Sengstock was deeply upset when his mother told a revivalist that he was abused as a child and was adamant, the defense argued, that Houston not tell anyone any details.

“There can be absolutely no doubt that in [that] period Brett Sengstock did not wish a word of this to be published,” Boulten said. “He was concerned that the church might rake through things. … He was concerned that he might be portrayed as someone with inappropriate sexual attitudes.”

Boulten conceded that not going to the police also allowed Houston to protect his father’s reputation and the reputation of the church. That didn’t change the fact that he was also doing what the adult victim asked him to do.

“You can have more than one reason,” he said.

“An excuse can be reasonable and convenient?” the magistrate asked.

“Yes,” Boulten said. “Just because it was convenient for it not to be prosecuted, my client is not without reasonable excuse. Brett Sengstock said he did not want it to be reported.”

On Friday, the defense continued to argue that Houston had a reasonable excuse not to report to police. Boulten argued that Houston’s behavior, in the days after he learned about his father’s crimes, could not really be characterized as a cover-up.

“The evidence is that when Brian Houston found out about this, he began to talk about it,” he said. “First to his family, then to the elders or board members of the … congregations. Right from the beginning, he began to tell people.”

Eventually, he talked about his father’s “moral failings” at a 2002 Hillsong conference attended by 18,000 people, including the police commissioner, who also did not immediately file a legal report.

“People talk about controversy,” Boulten said. “They may talk in hushed tones, but they still talk.”

The judge will issue a verdict in the case on August 16. He faces a possible sentence of five years in prison.

Theology

God Called Him to Thailand 60 Years Ago. He Still Hasn’t Left.

Missionary Henry Breidenthal taught generations of Thai pastors as a doctor, Bible college founder, and evangelist.

Retired missionary Henry Breidenthal praying at Grace New Life church in Chiang Mai, Thailand.

Retired missionary Henry Breidenthal praying at Grace New Life church in Chiang Mai, Thailand.

Christianity Today June 15, 2023
Photo by James Thompson

On a warm Sunday morning in March, about a dozen Thai Christians sit quietly in Grace New Life Church in Chiang Mai and wait for the service to begin. As the worship leader warms up on his guitar and the pastor makes last-minute adjustments to his slides, a frail 91-year-old Caucasian man with bifocals shuffles to a chair and sits down.

The worship leader stands and asks maw (Thai for “doctor”) to lead a prayer. Retired missionary Henry Breidenthal slowly rises from his chair and walks to the front of the room. There, with his gray head bowed and sunken eyes closed, he addresses God softly, his Thai mumbled with age. His prayer complete, he returns to his seat as the music begins.

When the worship set is finished, Breidenthal and the other congregants listen to the day’s message on tithing from Pastor Patompon Kong. Kong was once Breidenthal’s student at the Bible college he founded. Now, in the twilight of the older man’s life, Kong is his pastor.

For the past 60 years, Breidenthal has called Thailand home. His longevity calls to mind an earlier era of overseas service. Today, many missionary recruits hope to see quick, tangible results before returning home just a few months or years later. Breidenthal’s ministry shows the potential for the compound growth of a missionary’s impact over the long term.

That type of ministry comes at a cost. Breidenthal had to forgo the doctor’s salary he could have earned back in the United States, perhaps the chance to marry and start a family (Breidenthal has remained single), and definitely a “normal” life of comfort and ease.

Yet as he spoke with me in his home about his life in Thailand—treating leprosy patients, ministering in the tribal areas, planting churches, and teaching generations of Thai pastors—he didn’t dwell on what he gave up.

Kong noted about his former teacher, “He’s really committed to what he desired from the beginning: to finish the race well.”

From Kansas City to Bangkok

As a young man growing up in Kansas City, Missouri, mission work was already on Breidenthal’s mind. His family members had varying degrees of religious commitment, but he was spiritually precocious and thought that becoming a missionary could help ensure that he made it to heaven.

In his teenage years, he started attending Youth for Christ’s packed meetings on Saturday nights. There, he heard that salvation was by grace, not attendance. The message stuck and changed his entire outlook on faith. It did not, however, change his plans to become a missionary. “Once I learned that salvation is by grace, what else could I do?” he asked.

But he took some detours along the way. At his parent’s suggestion, he followed in the footsteps of an older brother and attended medical school. After graduating from the University of Missouri School of Medicine, he did his residency in Dallas, where he was heavily involved in a local church. Still determined to become a missionary, he enrolled at Dallas Theological Seminary where he earned a master’s degree in theology in 1962.

After a few years of practicing medicine, Breidenthal joined the Overseas Missionary Fellowship (OMF) and left by boat for Asia in 1964. He first trained in Singapore before heading to Thailand, where he spent a year learning the language and adjusting to the culture.

OMF then sent Breidenthal to work at its hospital for leprosy patients in central Thailand. He spent most of the next few years doing medical work, but his heart longed to evangelize to the unreached hill tribe people of northern Thailand. OMF’s leadership wanted him to concentrate on medicine for his first four-year term. After that, they said, he could shift his focus from meeting physical needs to spiritual ones.

Left: Henry Breidenthal sharing photos from his missionary work. Right: Breidenthal leading prayer at Grace New Life Church in Thailand. Photos by James Thompson
Left: Henry Breidenthal sharing photos from his missionary work. Right: Breidenthal leading prayer at Grace New Life Church in Thailand.

Reaching the unreached Mien tribe

“In mission, everything is pictures,” Breidenthal says as he gets up slowly from the kitchen table where we’ve been talking and walks with a stiff gait toward another room. “You have to have pictures.”

He’s decided that I, like the churches he used to visit while on furlough back in the States, need to see the people and places he has encountered. We’re talking about his two-year ministry in the early 1970s along the border of Thailand and Laos, mostly among people of the Mien tribe. He lived in huts in the mountains, staying in each village for days or weeks or months, depending on the reception of his hosts. He tried to treat villagers’ health problems with limited equipment, but his primary objective was to introduce the gospel.

He returns with several large binders full of small slides, now a half-century old. They show small huts with dirt floors and colorfully dressed villagers. This chapter of Breidenthal’s life had its share of successes, such as when he helped save a Mien woman’s life by carrying her on his back from her village toward the nearest medical clinic. At the halfway point, he flagged down a pickup that carried her the rest of the journey. The woman reached the clinic in time. She had been in a coma for over a week, but the medical staff were able to revive her. Eventually, as Breidenthal learned later, she became a Christian.

There were plenty of disappointments as well. Some villages were unreceptive and forced him to move on. Others welcomed him as a physician but not as a preacher. Despite these setbacks, his two years living among the Mien led to friendships and connections in which he would continue to invest over the ensuing decades. Years later, he helped Mien believers start a church in Chiang Mai.

The creation of Bangkok’s first Bible college

In the mid-20th century, Thailand’s small Christian population faced a dilemma. Churches were suffering from a dearth of preachers, and many who did enter the ministry had few opportunities to pursue formal theological training. Some moved to other countries to study, but this solution had serious disadvantages: it was expensive, and many Thais who went abroad for school found work there after graduating.

Before the early 1970s, Bangkok did not have a degree-granting seminary or Bible college. Several missions agencies and denominations had started small theological schools, but local believers and missionaries felt the need for a flagship evangelical institution in the capital. In 1970, they turned the vision into a reality: Thai believers donated needed resources such as a building and funds. OMF and the Christian and Missionary Alliance decided to work together on the project, ensuring that the school would be interdenominational. Now the nascent school just needed a director.

The board of the newly founded Bangkok Bible College (BBC) asked Breidenthal to serve as its first leader—and its only full-time teacher. He accepted. After returning to Bangkok from his work with the Mien, he moved into the dilapidated two-story house that would be the school’s first dormitory, classroom, and office.

Breidenthal (far left) standing with BBC's first cohort of students in 1971, including Chumsaeng Reong (fourth from left).Courtesy of Bangkok Bible Seminary
Breidenthal (far left) standing with BBC’s first cohort of students in 1971, including Chumsaeng Reong (fourth from left).

Training generations of Thai pastors

The next batch of photographs includes a shot of Breidenthal in his late 30s standing next to five young Thai men in white dress shirts and ties. This was BBC’s first cohort of students in 1971. Among them is Chumsaeng Reong, a Thai believer who had grown up in a nominally Christian home (his grandfather who immigrated from China was a Christian) and was interested in learning more about the Bible. An elder at his church suggested he study with an impressive American doctor who was starting a Bible college. The elder promised that the doctor was like a “Bible encyclopedia.”

When Reong arrived for the beginning of the semester, he was the second student to move in. He soon learned that only three other students would be joining them. “If [this doctor] is so great, why are there so few students?” he remembers thinking. “And why is the building so shabby?”

Despite that initial disillusionment, Reong, now 72, remembers his time at BBC as “a special formation.” Since Breidenthal lived with the students in the ramshackle house, spiritual discussions often extended well past the official end of class time. “[We discussed] questions after questions after questions at the dining table,” Reong recollects. After five years of study at BBC, he went on to become a pastor, seminary instructor, and founding director of the Wycliffe Thai Foundation.

Today, BBC is Bangkok Bible Seminary. The old house is gone, replaced by several buildings featuring well-equipped classrooms, an impressive library, and a large assembly hall. A robust faculty has replaced the single full-time position from the early years, and the current director, Manoch Chaengmook, is another of Breidenthal’s former students. The seminary offers in-person and online instruction and currently serves almost 1,000 Thais.

Left: The photo of Breidenthal at Bangkok Bible College (BBC). Right: A class taking place at BBC.Photos by James Thompson
Left: The photo of Breidenthal at Bangkok Bible College (BBC). Right: A class taking place at BBC.

After retiring from BBC in 1995, Breidenthal moved from Bangkok to Chiang Mai, where he helped establish the Chiang Mai Bible Center. At first, students came to his house for classes. The center continued to develop and eventually became Chiang Mai Theological Seminary, where he continued to teach until 2018. Today the school has about 150 students.

Both in Bangkok and Chiang Mai, Breidenthal made sure that his students put what they learned into action. They joined him in planting churches, including Makkasan New Life Church in Bangkok, which he started with another missionary. The church grew, and soon several other New Life churches sprung up around the city and beyond. Thai Christians, including some of Breidenthal’s students, took on leadership rolls, quickly developing the churches’ independence.

‘The best one piece of literature’

The good doctor is not holding photographs now. He’s picked up a small booklet that features Thai writing and a drawing of Jesus on the front. “I don’t want to preach to you,” he says, as he flips it open.

It’s a small, unintentional fib, meant to set me at ease. It’s clear he does want to preach to me, just like he’s preached to countless people over the decades, tract in hand. I assure him that I don’t mind, and he launches into a detailed exposition of God’s plan for salvation.

When Thai Christians think of Breidenthal, they often think of these tracts. From early on, he’s always had them, often stashed in his doctor’s bag along with a stethoscope and thermometer. During his tenure at BBC, he and a troupe of Thai seminarians would spend every Sunday afternoon in Bangkok’s Lumpini Park, handing out tracts, singing, and engaging anyone who would stop and talk. He would later distribute them in Chiang Mai as well as on trips to neighboring countries. One time, authorities in Vietnam detained him for three days for passing out tracts.

He points to several verses in the booklet from 1 John 5, focusing on verse 10: “Whoever believes in the Son of God accepts this testimony.”

“In Thailand, they’re slow to get the concept of ‘believe in,’” Breidenthal says. “Believe in means trust.” He explains that believing about Jesus comes more naturally to many Thais. Adding one more supernatural being to an already complex pantheon is usually not a challenge. Resting solely in Christ’s sacrifice often is.

Former students who accompanied Breidenthal to hand out tracts in downtown Bangkok remember feeling very uncomfortable at first. One recalls being so embarrassed that he tried to blend in with the joggers circling the park’s running path. But many also say that they gradually learned not to be ashamed of the gospel. And while positive responses were rare, a few people they talked to did eventually become Christians.

This method of evangelism has its critics, and Breidenthal himself admits that it has disadvantages. For example, he’s aware that the small text is sometimes difficult for older people to read, and he knows that some tracts explain the gospel using a Western framework that Thais will not easily understand. But he also believes that some tracts give a culturally appropriate witness, and that getting these into people’s hands can make a difference.

“This is the best one piece of literature you can give to anybody in the world,” he says, holding up the small booklet.

‘He doesn’t have any agenda except you’

When Thai clergy reflect on Breidenthal’s ministry, they marvel at his commitment. “He doesn’t long to go back to America,” Kong says. “He never counts the days, months, and years until a furlough.” He attributes this to a “deep, heartfelt love for the Thai people.”

When prompted, they admit that he has weaknesses. He was often so caught up in his many ministry responsibilities that he did not take sufficient care of himself. Friends tried to make sure that he was eating enough and setting time aside to rest. As a teacher and mentor, he could sometimes be overly strict, and he would occasionally communicate in a very direct manner that is off-putting to Thais.

But they also say he is humble enough to admit mistakes and has intentionally tried to adapt to Thai culture in a way that many missionaries do not. Perhaps even more important is his ability to focus on and invest in each individual student or companion.

“He’s [one of the few people] that I discuss my problems and have prayer with,” said one longtime Thai friend. “Because he doesn’t have any agenda except you.”

As our time together came to a close, I saw evidence of another of Breidenthal’s defining characteristics: spiritual discipline. He is famous in Thai churches for living by the motto “No Bible, No Breakfast,” making sure he’s spiritually fed each morning before being physically fed, and for almost always ending conversations with prayer. When our interview was over and I stood to go, he quickly called me back. “Let me pray,” he said, bowing his head and folding his hands as he has countless times before.

News

Southern Baptists Committed to Abuse Reform. What Happened?

With the female-pastor debate getting the most attention, the slow work to address abuse plods on.

SBC Abuse Reform Implementation Task Force

SBC Abuse Reform Implementation Task Force

Christianity Today June 14, 2023
Sonys Singh / Baptist Press

The issue that once dominated Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) annual meetings—sexual abuse in churches—almost receded into the background at this year’s gathering, which was overrun by debates around women serving as pastors.

Only a year after they voted to move forward with initial steps to address abuse in the wake of a major investigation, the SBC’s reforms have been slow, complicated, and not without controversy.

A task force overseeing its abuse response—including a new website to track known abusers—asked for more time to complete their task, and the convention overwhelmingly approved the extension. They’re still waiting for permanent funding and permanent staffing to oversee the process. Ahead of the meeting, some Southern Baptists spoke up with critiques over cost and legal ramifications.

“They’ve acknowledged it and kind of want to move on,” said Jules Woodson, who came forward with her story of abuse by her youth pastor in 2019. “I want them to know I’m still fighting … I’m not walking away.”

Sexual abuse survivors including Woodson had rallied around the annual meetings, holding posters and press conferences in 2019, wearing T-shirts in 2021, passing out teal sexual-abuse-survivor ribbons in 2022. Last year, the topic of abuse came up in prayers, sermons, and resolutions, with leaders going as far as thanking survivors by name and applauding them from the stage.

In New Orleans this week, Woodson and a few other SBC abuse survivors met in a room in the convention center set aside for them to decompress. They quietly celebrated the progress the denomination had made, shedding tears together as the shell of the Ministry Check website went live on Tuesday afternoon at sbcabuseprevention.com. In the weeks ahead, it will host a database of pastors who have confessed, been convicted, or agreed to civil settlement in abuse cases.

But among the rows of messengers in the convention, they didn’t sense the change of heart that leaders called for after the Southern Baptist “reckoning” or “Kairos moment” that came last year. The topic that came up most often, and garnered the most enthusiastic arguments, was the disfellowshipping of Saddleback Church and the desire to restate a commitment to male eldership.

Colorado pastor Bob Bender asked from the floor what many onlookers wondered about the denomination’s priorities: “What does it say when we’re slow on the take on sexual abuse of women but quick on the draw to disqualify them from non-lead pastor roles?”

Georgia pastor Griffin Gulledge recalled last year’s “great moments and tears and chill bumps” but said that the initial recognition of abuse was not enough without a commitment to keep going.

“To fail to see the [task force] through, and let them continue their work, would be the greatest failure of moral responsibility of this convention in half a century,” he said. “There is no replacement plan. This task force is our abuse response. Will we quit now?”

Abuse remained the key issue for the members of the Abuse Reform Implementation Task Force, which met every other week to since September to discuss the issue and celebrated the chance to continue their work.

“I know there are plenty of survivors who are saying this should have happened faster, and I don’t disagree,” said task force chair and South Carolina pastor Marshall Blalock. “We have learned a lot.”

“This whole thing will break your heart. You can’t be the same after hearing some of the things that happened [to survivors],” he said. “You come to God and say, ‘Help us make it right.’ It’s a holy challenge.”

As they took on the challenge of launching the website, task force members and Southern Baptists at large raised concerns about contracting with a division of Guidepost Solutions for the project, since the company celebrates the LGBT community. Last month, the task force announced they pivoted to partner with multiple providers to develop and manage the site instead.

They also faced scrutiny from some Southern Baptists who disagreed with the decision to allocate funds (the SBC’s Send Relief pledged $4 million to abuse reform) and who challenged the scope of the project.

Critics focused on the category of pastors who could be listed on the Ministry Check website for being “credibly accused” of abuse through an independent investigation. In the end, the task force opted to have Christian legal advisors continue to develop standards for vetting that criterion before including it on the site.

Even without the same level of urgency and attention from messengers at large, the work around SBC abuse remains a massive undertaking. A sexual abuse hotline, monitored by Guidepost, has fielded 600 phone calls, half of which involve open cases of abuse in SBC churches, according Jarrett Stephens, a Houston pastor and abuse survivor who serves on the task force.

“There is a lot of work to do, and we are just beginning,” he said at the Baptist21 lunch on Tuesday.

A “trauma-informed” team takes those calls, maintaining survivor confidentiality while referring cases of credibly accused pastors to the database system for vetting and sending reports of churches that failed to uphold the SBC’s abuse response standards to the credentials committee for their review, said Rachael Denhollander, an advocate and legal consultant.

And week after week, more accounts of abuse by pastors arise. Earlier this month, a Southern Baptist youth pastor was arrested in South Carolina for filming girls in the church bathroom.

“Every time I see one of those stories, it’s heartbreaking … they grieve us,” said David Sons, outgoing SBC Executive Committee chair. “But churches now know the steps to take. That wasn’t always the case.”

Southern Baptists want to see abuse prevented, but if it does take place, it’s better to have perpetrators uncovered and prosecuted for their crimes than for abuse to persist or be covered up.

Tiffany Thigpen, another survivor at the meeting, agreed; she celebrated a recent report of an abuser in Texas who turned himself in rather than be caught in an investigation. “This is why we do what we do,” she tweeted. “Put these #abusers on notice that they can no longer count on the cover of churches who may be willing to let them walk to prevent scandal.”

Thigpen and Woodson, who runs the nonprofit Help; Hear; Heal, see themselves as “standing in the gap” for survivors who can’t be at the meeting or have given up hope for meaningful change.

“This whole sex abuse reform thing in the SBC is a collective commitment,” said Heather Evans, a licensed social worker with an expertise in clergy abuse. “That’s what survivors are looking for in their pursuit of justice: those around them and how they respond.”

Evans, an advisor to the Abuse Reform Implementation Task Force, spoke Tuesday during an after-hours session hosted by the website SBC Voices on the topic of grooming and abuse by pastors toward adult victims, cases that can be misunderstood or labeled as affairs in some church contexts. About 50 pastors, survivors, and advocates attended, including Chellee Taylor, who shared the story of her abuse by her “boss, campus pastor, and counselor” at an SBC church in Florida.

“This is something that happens to real people, and it happens in your churches,” her husband, Peter Taylor, told the breakout session, lamenting the spiritual toll it took on both of them.

The task force has also worked with state conventions and associations to improve resources and training and shared a toolkit of materials now available online.

The four task force members who spoke before the convention Wednesday morning took a somber tone, recounting how the extent of abuse is churches often remains hidden, as with a case made public just days ago in Louisiana that has spurred investigations across three states.

“As hard and difficult as this past year has been for us, it pales in comparison to what it’s been like for survivors and their families for well over the past year,” said task force member and Oklahoma pastor Mike Keahbone, who choked up on the stage.

“I’m thankful, Lord, for another step toward healing,” he prayed. “We know it’s tiny, but it’s a step.”

addApple PodcastsDown ArrowDown ArrowDown Arrowarrow_left_altLeft ArrowLeft ArrowRight ArrowRight ArrowRight Arrowarrow_up_altUp ArrowUp ArrowAvailable at Amazoncaret-downCloseCloseellipseEmailEmailExpandExpandExternalExternalFacebookfacebook-squarefolderGiftGiftGooglegoogleGoogle KeephamburgerInstagraminstagram-squareLinkLinklinkedin-squareListenListenListenChristianity TodayCT Creative Studio Logologo_orgMegaphoneMenuMenupausePinterestPlayPlayPocketPodcastprintremoveRSSRSSSaveSavesaveSearchSearchsearchSpotifyStitcherTelegramTable of ContentsTable of Contentstwitter-squareWhatsAppXYouTubeYouTube