Chapter 7. Why? During the time of the Reformation (1500-1550), God's light was being poured out in many miraculous and unexpected ways. People responded with theological reform; some radically changed their lifestyle, and still others poured themselves into missions. One of those men was a missionary by the name of Francis Xavier. In 1549, by the request of a fugitive samurai warrior named Anjiro, Xavier sailed to Japan to plant a church.
He was very successful, and it was said of these converts that they were very zealous. Interestingly, when Francis Xavier asked Anjiro if he thought Japan would receive Christianity, he replied, "They would not do so immediately, but would first ask you many questions and see what you knew. Above all, they would want to see whether your life corresponded with your teaching." Gary G.
Coles, who wrote about this period, tells us that Christianity took root there, but in the 1600s, it quickly became the target of brutal Japanese imperial persecutions. Within fifty years after the planting of Xavier's mission church, it was a capital crime to be a Christian in Japan. The Japanese Christians who refused to recant their beliefs suffered ostracism, torture, and even crucifixions similar to the Roman persecutions in the first three centuries of Christianity.
After the Reign of Terror was over, it appeared to all observers that Christianity had been completely stamped out. However, two hundred and fifty years later, Japan was being opened up for trade purposes, and it was discovered that thousands of baptized Christians still existed in Nagasaki, Japan. It was now the 1850s, and these Christians were living their faith in a catacomb existence, in caves and homes, completely unknown to the government.
When they were identified, the government started another series of persecutions. However, this time, because of international pressures, the persecutions were soon stopped, and Nagasaki Christianity came up from the underground. In a relatively short time, by 1917, the Japanese Christians had organized and built a massive cathedral, calling it St. Mary's. By the 1940s, thousands of people professed to be Christians in Japan.
It appeared to most that Christianity was beginning to be practiced openly, without fear of hostility and persecution. However, early in the morning of August 9, 1945, a few young American Christians from another part of the world met with two chaplains, one Lutheran and the other Catholic, for a little prayer meeting before they started their day's work. After the prayer, these two American Christians climbed into their B-29 Superfortress long-distance bomber and began heading for Nagasaki.
Tragically, history records that St. Mary's Cathedral was one of the very landmarks these American Christians had been told to look for as they flew into the target zone. Shortly after the pilot identified the cathedral, he ordered the atom bomb to be dropped. At 11:02 a.m., as told in Coles' words, Nagasaki Christianity was boiled, evaporated, and carbonized in a scorching, radioactive fireball. The persecuted, vibrant, faithful, surviving center of Japanese Christianity had become Ground Zero.
And what the Japanese imperial government could not do in over two hundred years of persecution, American Christians did in nine seconds. The Christians of Nagasaki were wiped out. Why? Almost immediately, the war was over. America was now seen as the ultimate world superpower. America could call the shots, set up summits of world leaders, demand treaties, and control whole nations, but at what cost? In the minds of most Western Christians, might and power had won. To be strong was to survive.
To be brave, bold, and confident became not only the mindset of secular America, but of the church as well. The long-forgotten verses "Blessed are the meek" and "Blessed are the peacemakers" became even further relegated to not much more than a nice decoration for pretty little gilded placemats and souvenir ashtrays. Admittedly, some of the men who literally pulled the trigger felt that perhaps this time we had gone too far.
Albert Einstein said, "I made one great mistake in my life when I signed the letter to President Roosevelt recommending that atom bombs be made." J. Robert Oppenheimer, the actual inventor of the atom bomb, said, "The atomic bomb made the prospect of future war unendurable.
It has led us up those last few steps to the mountain pass, and beyond there is a different country." Even General Douglas MacArthur, in a speech given at the surrender of the Japanese after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, said, "Military alliance, balances of power, League of Nations, all in turn failed. We have had our last chance.
If we do not devise some greater and more equitable system, Armageddon will be at our door." The problem basically is theological and involves a spiritual recrudescence and improvement of human character that will synchronize with our almost matchless advance in science, art, literature, and all material and cultural developments of the past two thousand years. It must be of the spirit if we are to save the flesh.
These were some great confessions, and admittedly, it was good that men were recognizing the need for compassion for humanity. Yet, ironically, the words of Christ and his narrow way only drifted further off, as non-resistant ideals were to be espoused only by the secular humanist and the intellectual idealist. As for the church, might is right had now solidified to the point of dogma. Being honest. The facts of war had really unsettled me further.
Just as the Berlin Wall had challenged me to realize that I could not wait for secular leaders to choose my enemies and allies, military acts such as the bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima graphically demonstrated to me what happens when the kingdom of God and the kingdom of this world mix. As I studied to understand, I found that the historians also cited very good reasons and justification for each case.
All of them, from Augustine and the Donatists to the Crusaders against Islam during the Middle Ages to the tyranny of Stalin and Hitler, the ones doing the extinguishing always cited good, pragmatic justification for every cause. Yet, more and more my cry was becoming, "Christian, beware! The age-old adage bears a grave truth: The victors write the history books." A few definitions. Simply defined pragmatism is whatever works is what is right.
Utilitarianism can be defined as what is right is whatever is best for the greatest number of people. Both of these concepts imbibe the idea of expediency, which is what is right is whatever is convenient for the immediate situation. Built right into the American psyche, these three ideologies—pragmatism, utilitarianism, and expediency—reign as philosophical fundamentals. As a good American boy, these concepts were well ingrained in me. My childhood dreams were filled with ideas of climbing the ladder of success.
Growing up, I felt that getting ahead, making the grade, and paying my dues would lead me on the path to achieve the American dream—life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Now, however, I was discovering that if I actually wanted to experience the fulfillment of God's promises in my life, these pragmatic ideologies were three giants that needed to be slain. To turn away from this type of thinking was not easy for my wife and me.
As we continued coming to the Lord, we soon discovered that everything around us—our culture, our friends, and our profession—had all been dictated more by expediency than anything else. I found my own society's lifeblood flowed to the beats and demands of valueless pragmatism. As I continued to ask why and how all the war and bloodshed continued to happen century after century, even in the church, the answer became obvious.
When biblical truths are lost and the ultimate goal of society becomes personal gratification and the pursuit of happiness, then greed and selfishness are all that is left. With this mindset, conflicts and wars are inevitable. If the pursuit of happiness is the ultimate goal, then naturally, when another person or society threatens to interfere with my happiness, then any measures necessary to preserve this end appear justifiable.
Hence, nuclear-equipped armies called peacekeepers or multi-layered national task forces labeled Homeland Security become reasonable means to achieve these ends, regardless of the moral or financial cost. As I continued to study, it became painfully obvious that it was professing Christians who were behind some of the worst atrocities, wars, and crimes in history.
I thought, "This type of moral ambiguity and uncertainty, all is understandable coming from a people who believe we are no more than organisms evolved from cosmic space matter, or from faithless unbelievers whose final hope is only in this life, but coming from the people who claim to follow the only living, personal, and benevolent God, it is an inexcusable tragedy." The reason for war. The book of James asks the ultimate war question: "Whence come wars and fightings among you?" I found his answer profound.
"Do they not come from your desires for pleasure that war in your members? You lust and do not have, you murder and covet and cannot obtain, you fight and war; yet you do not have because you do not ask, you ask and do not receive because you ask amiss, that you may spend it on your pleasures." When Jesus came to earth, he spoke and taught often of the kingdom of God.
Jesus revealed to the world a radical, diametrically different underlying and guiding principle that was much more than personal gratification and the pursuit of happiness. In his kingdom, the all-encompassing goal is not our happiness and earthly accomplishments, but rather in all our pursuit to love God and to glorify him with every aspect of our lives. In his kingdom, our entire lives, including our ambitions, happiness, decisions, and desires, are consumed to this end: to glorify God.
When the angels proclaim the birth of Jesus, they sing, "Glory to God in the highest." The apostle Paul said, "For of him and through him and to him are all things, to whom be glory forever. Amen." As I read through many of the Army books attempting to justify the Christian's place in war and self-defense, I began to notice a common thread. In these military, theological, and historical books, war was often likened to the surgeon's knife or the farmer's hoe.
The need to defend the innocent, the helpless, and the just outweighed all the evil acts of war.
Even questionable acts, such as the nuclear bombing of civilian women and children in Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II, were defended as "just" and "right." Yet, in spite of all the rationale, as much as I tried, I just could not let go of the simple, albeit impractical, words of Jesus: "Love your enemies; do good to them that hate you." But now, as Tanya and I endeavored to live out these new ideals for the first time, our commitment to them was challenged right from the start.
When my wife and I made up our minds to leave the Army, we were met with the overwhelming reality that we had suddenly lost all of our support. Losing our careers was just the beginning. Thinking it through, we realized we would be giving up all that we had labored so hard to achieve. We often trembled as we watched our lives seemingly fall apart before our very eyes.
It wasn't easy to say goodbye to our health insurance, retirement, college money, rent payment, bank account, church, friends—all of life as we had known it. And as time went on, there were moments when we really were tempted to despair. But as the anxiety from this realization began to mount and at times loom over us, we were forced to take a hold of God's promises. We had no choice but either to turn completely back or to take the Lord at his word.
It was a comfort to know that we certainly were not the first Christians to find ourselves in such a place. It was inspiring to remember that we simply were following in the footsteps of many others who had gone before us. Personal need. During this time, I believed God was taking us beyond the surface of the mere doctrines of peace and war to the recognition of a deeper need in our life: the need for security and self-sufficiency.
As I continued reading the scriptures and praying, the source of my confusion became clear to me. I slowly began to realize that I had allowed pragmatic thinking to creep in and destroy many areas of my life by minimizing the promises of God and teachings of the Bible. "Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you" had always been a beautiful verse to me, one that I knew by heart. But it wasn't a reality in my life.
My flesh, or human instinct, argued that a lesser evil could be done to bring about a better good. But as I studied the word of God, I found that God was vehemently opposed to such teaching. My flesh cried out, "The end justifies the means." But I found that God was just as concerned with how I did things as he was with why I was doing them.
Proverbs 16:25 says, "There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death." Paul, writing to the Christians in Rome, stated, "And why not say, 'Let us do evil that good may come'?" As we are slanderously reported, and as some affirm that we say, "Their condemnation is just." I saw that throughout Bible history, God's heart has desired to have a people who put their trust completely in him. Example from Abraham.
Thousands of years ago, God called Abraham at a very old age to leave his home, friends, and way of life to follow him through unknown lands based on promises from God—promises that he would give him a son and take him to a land flowing with milk and honey.
God was so pleased with Abraham's faith that he gave Abraham the name "Friend of God." The apostle Paul, speaking of Abraham's powerful trust in God's promises, said of him, "He staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief, but was strong in faith, giving glory to God, and being fully persuaded that what he had promised he was able also to perform, and therefore it was imputed to him for righteousness." Romans 4:20-22.
One central point of God's call to Abraham was that he was going to provide Abraham with an heir, but when the fulfillment of the promise tarried, Abraham was tempted to lose heart. Coming back from the battle after rescuing his brother Lot, Abraham met with Melchizedek. Shortly after this meeting, God came to Abraham and renewed his vision, telling him, "Do not be afraid, Abram.
I am your shield, your exceedingly great reward." Encouraged by his renewed communication, Abraham cried out to God with the burden of his heart. Now, at the age of 86 years, he had begun to grow discouraged because the promise of an heir was not fulfilled. So he reasoned that God must have meant not a real son, but a servant born in his house, thus fulfilling the promise in principle only.
Abraham did not feel he directly denied the promise by compromising in this way, but in effect, he diminished his efficacy and power by leaning on his own human reasoning. Like Abraham, I am constantly tempted to redefine God's promises. When I read in scripture, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." It is easy for me to turn it into some kind of legal or pretended fulfillment instead of an actual reality in my life.
But God assured Abraham, "This one shall not be your heir, but one who will come from your own body shall be your heir." God's promise was fulfilled in reality, not by a mere legality. The revelation and reassurance Abraham received from this angel gave him clarity and renewed his faith. But as the years continued to pass, the possibility of a real fulfillment began to grow more and more unrealistic.
Frustration surfaced, and Sarah offered her bondslave, Hagar, to Abraham as a practical, human means to fulfill the promise. This time, the mistake did not stop with just mental temptations to doubt God's promise. The fruit of Abraham's compromise was Ishmael. After Hagar conceived, she immediately felt superior to Sarah and started to despise her. Later, when Isaac was born by the miraculous fulfillment of God's promise, the contention and jealousy proliferated.
Ishmael grew in jealousy and persisted in persecuting Isaac incessantly. There was no way for them to live together peaceably, so Ishmael and Hagar eventually were driven out. In time, Ishmael's descendants moved to the east and south of the promised land and came to be known collectively as the Arabs. Still today, 4,000 years later, the conflict between the descendants of Sarah and the descendants of Hagar rages on, making international news as they continue to fight.
Oh, what damage results when human means are used to accomplish God's promises. Rise and walk. There is an old story from the 13th century about a surprise meeting between the famed theologian Thomas Aquinas and Pope Innocent II. As the story goes, one day Aquinas came upon Pope Innocent II as he was taking inventory of the church treasury. The Pope was right in the middle of counting a few large stacks of silver and gold coins when Aquinas came walking in.
Looking up to Aquinas, the Pope said, "You see, Thomas, the church no longer needs to say, 'Silver and gold have I none.'" "This is true," Thomas Aquinas quickly replied, "and neither can she say, 'Arise and walk.'" History has demonstrated time and time again that when the church stops trusting in God and begins to rely on its own strength and resources, failure and compromise always follow.
God was showing me that the reasons for war, fighting, lust, and corruption are the same now as they always have been; they result from trusting man more than God, by putting man first. I concluded that all the passions, pleasures, and pride of man will never form a peaceful society, regardless of how liberated and democratic it may claim to be. James sternly finishes his ultimate war question, "Whence come wars and fightings among you?" with this strong admonition.
Whoever therefore wants to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God. Or do you think that the scripture says in vain, "The Spirit who dwells in us yearns jealously, but he gives more grace; therefore he says, 'God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble'?" I wanted to be like Abraham, to trust fully and even foolishly in God's promises to the point that I too might be called a friend of God.