Is it just me, or are we witnessing a dramatic increase in unbelievers accusing genuine Christians of hypocrisy – and implying, or insisting, that biblical Christianity is therefore not worthy of serious consideration?
 
I've been running into a lot of this attitude lately. I can be in the midst of a completely secular conversation when, out of the blue, the other person will launch into a diatribe against the hypocrisy of this “church-goer” or that “Bible-thumper.”   
 
Maybe it’s because of my own shady past, which they know about from experience or through reading the “bad old me” parts of my memoir. They don’t know or care that when I was born again in Christ, I had (painfully) repented of that past, and became a new (albeit deeply flawed) creature in Christ.
 
Or maybe it’s because they still see hypocrisy in me, in which case I really need to clean up my act – not because it would put my salvation in jeopardy, but because it might create a stumbling block to theirs.
 
But I have to wonder.
 
Do these people refuse to vote because they have detected hypocrisy in their party or platform or candidate of choice?
 
Do they avoid certain restaurants, stores, museums or theaters because known hypocrites frequent them?
 
Do they sneer at proponents of alternative worldviews, from secular humanism to Hinduism or Islam, because hypocrisy occasionally tarnishes everyone’s life?  
                                                                                                                   
Or is it only biblical Christianity that gets treated with disdain whenever a follower fails to live up to its high standards – or, just as likely, their own?
 
And if that’s the case, I’d certainly like to know why.
 
There’s a very simple biblical explanation for such contempt. But since they reject that source, I’d love to know how they explain it. 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately – well, ever since I read Phillip Keller's Shepherd trilogy a few years ago – about the 23rd Psalm. Meditating on this most beautiful of King David’s psalms is, in my mind, the perfect antidote to any form of worldly anxiety.  

Just think of all that even the first line tells us about King David’s relationship with the Lord – and, I hope, ours as well: 

The Lord is my shepherd: Not the world, not a relative, not a friend, not a newspaper or talk-show host or opinion leader, not a mind-altering substance or food or exercise or any other thing that we humans so easily turn into idols. My shepherd is the Lord Himself, Creator of heaven and earth and everything therein. 

The Lord is my shepherd.  Not “was” or “will be.” Not “might become” or “probably could be.” He is my shepherd, today and always.  

The Lord is my shepherd. Not “our” shepherd, although that’s true too. But even if all the rest of His sheep vanished, He would still be mine and I would still be His. It’s a personal relationship; He cares for me as an individual, not just as a member of a group. 

The Lord is my shepherd. And here’s where the fun really begins! What exactly does a shepherd do for members of his flock?

• He leads them to food, water, safety.
• He protects them from all manner of evil, from such predators as wolves to treacherous paths.
• He rescues them from falls, from being fatally cast on their backs, from becoming lost.
• He removes dangers such as poisonous plants.
• He protects them from microscopic pests that can literally drive embattled sheep to death.
• He helps them both comfortable and productive through their chief contribution to mankind – their wool.

 
Are these not excellent analogies for what the Lord Jesus does for all who have repented and placed their trust in Him? 

If you’d like to know more, don’t miss Keller’s life-changing trilogy, A Shepherd Looks at the 23rd Psalm, A Shepherd Looks at the Good Shepherd, and A Shepherd Looks at the Lamb of God.  

Seems like everyone’s talking about Fake News these days. And it’s no doubt important to be able to distinguish truth from lies, even in this lost and fallen world, because – well, I’m not really sure why it’s important. Journalists lie all the time. Will one lie more or less really matter 100 years from now?
 
Fake Christians, on the other hand, should be of grave concern to us all – especially to genuine believers who have repented and trusted in Christ. That’s because what we believe about Him will impact every last one of us for all eternity.
 
As aggressive as the enemies of Christ have grown in recent years, it has become a little easier to identify the Fake Christian.  All you have to do is take the biblical stand on a current controversy and wait. Almost invariably, the Fake Christian will tell you how judgmental you are and how warped your idea of God is.
 
Never mind that your source of authority is the Bible itself, which is demonstrably the word of God. If you oppose abortion, or warn against behaviors that He calls an abomination, or suggest that salvation requires repenting of what He says is sin and trusting in Christ to have paid its penalty in full, the Fake Christian will be all over you.
 
“I am a Christian,” he or she will insist with the pride that God says He hates, “and He told me that there are many ways to heaven, and that He loves all His children no matter what they do or believe because He made them the way they are!” Included in this universalist hug-a-thon are pagans who deny everything about Christ, from His deity to His atoning sacrifice -- because, hey, Christianity doesn't mean I have to actually believe that Jesus is who He allegedly claimed to be and did what He allegedly claimed to have done. How arrogant of you to even suggest it! 
 
I have yet to come up with an effective response to this sort of theology. I’ve tried simply sharing the Gospel. I’ve tried explaining how I know that the Bible is the inspired and inerrant word of God. I’ve tried addressing the Fake Christian’s primary objections. I’ve even tried asking the last-resort question, “What if you’re wrong?”
 
To no avail, apparently. It seems that thinking you’ve heard directly from God trumps every other argument – even if “directly” really means via someone as widely admired as Oprah Winfrey or Joel Osteen. That’s particularly true if the Fake Christian holds to a relativistic view of the world, absolutely certain that “what’s true for you isn’t necessarily true for me.” 
 
Perhaps the best thing to do in these situations is to follow The Way of the Master, demonstrated so beautifully by Ray Comfort: get as far as we can with showing the Fake Christian his or her sinfulness and impending judgment before a holy God, and then explain why the cross is his only hope. Such an argument will normally be rejected, but perhaps we will have planted a seed or two that will be watered by the next believer and will ultimately germinate in the light of some crushing life circumstance.
 
Sadly, these days our world is jam-packed with Fake Christians who detest everything we stand for. But Jesus told us how to treat them: “Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:44-45a).
 
And that means telling them the truth about the Gospel, whatever the cost. If we love them, it’s the least we can do.

Still think that modern secular science has the age of the earth right at 4.543 billion years, and that this makes the Bible's Genesis account of creation nothing more than myth? Think again. As I explained in Heaven Without Her, it's the "evidence" for an old, old earth that's the myth -- starting with the foundational "facts" of radiometric dating. Here's an excerpt:
 
"I found it impossible to keep such discoveries to myself. When visiting with old friends whose news focused on promotions, divorces, affairs and killings in the stock market, I’d respond to any 'what’s new?' directed my way with a report on some great article I’d just read – an article showing that those notorious 'annual' rings in Greenland’s ice cores weren’t really 'annual' at all, for instance, or a piece discussing the Genesis Flood implications of the world’s polystrata trees.

"Usually, my friends just laughed at me, which was fine; I couldn’t expect everyone to be interested in these things. But once in a while a buddy with an interest in science would at least feign curiosity about what I had to say.

"One example was a beautiful and brilliant ad-industry acquaintance I’ll call Carla. The last time I saw her, when I was more than a year into my study, we were lunching at a charming country restaurant that would have qualified as a tearoom for Nancy Drew and her chums. She even looked the part, wearing a smart gray suit and creamy silk blouse. I, dressed in my favorite blue jeans and Packer sweatshirt, did not.

"After a half hour or so of discussing the usual (Carla’s job, Carla’s tenuous marriage, and Carla’s favorite hobby) she smoothed her perfect blonde pageboy and asked me what was new in my life. She seemed fascinated as I described all the young-earth evidences I’d been reading about.

“'Ah, but you’re forgetting something important,' she said when I paused to take a bite out of my sandwich. 'Radiometric dating. It proves that the universe is billions of years old – which means it makes all this other stuff you’re talking about irrelevant.'

"Carla wasn’t the first person to bring up this objection, but this time I was prepared for it. Although it’s not the simplest issue, I had studied it until I understood it well enough to discuss it at least semi-intelligently.

“'Really?' I said. 'That’s interesting. I mean, I’ve heard and read lots about radiometric dating in the last few months, but you’re the first person I’ve come across who actually understands it. How do you figure it proves vast ages for the universe?'

“'Well,' said Carla, sipping her coffee and glancing at her watch, 'I’m not sure exactly how it works. But it’s well accepted by the scientific community.'

“'Ah,' I said. 'Can I share with you a little analogy that purports to show how unreliable it is? Maybe you can tell me where I’m going wrong.'

“'Sure, okay,' she said, sitting bolt upright, ready to jump all over my error.

"I shoved my plate aside and, grabbing a pen from my purse, drew a pail on my paper placemat and added a wavy line running side to side near the bottom.

“'So, what we have here is a plain old five-gallon bucket containing a gallon of water,' I said, pointing to the wavy line with my pen. 'It’s a leaky bucket, unfortunately, currently losing about a gallon a year. Okay?'

“'Got it.'

“'So tell me, Carla, how long has our five-gallon bucket been sitting here?' I asked, adding a tree, a barn, and a sun to my sketch.

“'The obvious answer would be, let’s see – leaking a gallon a year, one gallon left, I guess we’d say it’s been sitting there for four years. But that’s not necessarily the right answer.'

“'Why not?' I asked, smiling at her encouragingly.

“'Because we don’t know how much water it contained originally,' she said, returning my smile and leaning back in her chair.

“'And?'

“'And? Hmmm. Well, we’re assuming that no water has evaporated.'

“'Right. What else?'

Carla leaned forward again, frowning a little.

I drew a black cloud over my sun.

“'Of course,' she said, almost gleefully. 'We’re assuming that it hasn’t rained – that no water has been added to it in that time.'

“'Good. One more.'

"She squinted down at my picture. Finally, she shook her head. 'I give up.'

“'We’re assuming that the leak rate has been constant over time – that it has always leaked at a rate of a gallon a year, that the holes haven’t become larger from vandalism, say, or smaller from mineral deposits.'

"Carla tilted her head and nodded. 'Good point. But without any more data, of course, we have to make these assumptions, don’t we?'

“'Exactly,' I said triumphantly. 'Which is apparently what happens with radiometric dating.'

"She stared at me. 'How do you figure?'

“'Well, I may be wrong, but it’s my understanding that there’s no way to know what the original radioactivity levels were in the rocks being dated … that there’s no way to know whether some radioactive material might have been lost to, for instance, rain and flooding … and that there’s no way to know whether some radioactive elements might have been added by leeching from other rocks, or by daughter isotopes –'

“'Okay, enough,' Carla said. She wasn’t smiling. 'I don’t know enough about this to respond, so you’re wasting your time and mine.'

“'Okay,' I said. 'I was just going to add, "so they have to make assumptions in each of these areas –"'

“'Yes, I get it. And those assumptions can throw off the readings.' She checked her watch again and stood up abruptly. “I’ve gotta get going,” she said, taking a twenty out of her purse and tossing it on the table. 'Lunch is on the agency. Take care, now.'

"She was gone before I had the chance to deliver the punch line: that this is probably why radiometric dating so often delivers erratic results, assigning vast ages to materials known to be young – and that evolutionists routinely discard dates that don’t jive with their long-ages philosophy. As a result, it looks to us laymen like radiometric dating tells a mostly consistent story about an old, old earth.

"Nor did I have a chance to thank Carla for lunch, and so far I haven’t had another opportunity to do so in person. My emails to her go unanswered.
​
"Not that it’s a big deal. We were hardly close friends, and there’d never really been a business relationship of any importance between us.
​
"But to this day it makes me sad that someone committed to the evolutionary idea refuses to entertain any criticism of her theory – especially a criticism wielded by a Christian.

"Not long after this incident, I read the book of Matthew, the first of four New Testament gospels. There, in chapter 10 verses 34-36, I found that Jesus had warned His followers to expect such discord, even from those we have been closest to: 'Do not think that I came to bring peace on earth. I did not come to bring peace but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and a man's enemies will be those of his own household.'

"Strange as it may sound to most people, this passage was immeasurably comforting to me."

(from Heaven Without Her, pages 110-113)

If God's so good, how can He allow such evil in our world? 
 
I hear this question again and again – often from Christian friends who have been confronted with some version of it by a son or daughter, sibling or spouse, friend or parent, and don't know how to respond.
 
The Bible, of course, provides many possible reasons. For instance, Hebrews 12:3-11 gives us plenty to chew on. Consider the conclusion of this passage: “Now no chastening seems to be joyful for the present, but painful; nevertheless, afterward it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.” That verse alone should often be enough to satisfy sincere questioners, particularly when examined in the light of Romans 8:28: “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.”
 
Alas, there are many who simply dismiss what Scripture has to say about any subject. I know; I was one of them until the Lord softened my heart with sorrow.
 
In such cases, perhaps a secular story would be more helpful. Christian apologist Ravi Zacharias shared an excellent tale in one of his riveting university Q&A sessions. Based on mideastern folklore, the story went something like this:
 
A man’s horse ran away. His neighbor came to him and said, “Bad luck that your horse has run away.”
 
The man said, “What do I know of these things?”
 
But a week later, the horse came back, with 20 wild horses in his wake.
 
The neighbor said, “Good luck – you now have many more horses.”
 
The man said, “What do I know about it?”
 
Trying to tame one of the new horses, the man's son was kicked, and his leg was broken.
 
The neighbor said, “Bad luck, your son’s leg being broken.”
 
The man said, “What do I know about good luck and bad luck?”
 
A few days later a bunch of thugs came by in search of able-bodied young men for their gang. They were about to kidnap the man's son. But when they found out that his leg was broken, they left him behind and moved on to the next house.
 
The neighbor said, “What good luck that your son’s leg is broken!”
 
With this one little series of events, Ravi reminded his listeners that we do not know what lies ahead. Instead of denying God’s goodness (or his very existence) because He failed to live up to our little ideas of right and wrong, we would be wise to wait until we stand before Him, face to face. Then, if we still care about such things, we can ask Him to explain Himself. We will no doubt learn that, in every case, He had perfect reasons for doing, or failing to do, what we expect of “a good God.”