A couple days ago, I had a conversation with a woman who informed me, emphatically, that Christianity is all about loving everyone, and criticizing no one (except, apparently, biblical Christians). She’d been to a church service some years ago where the pastor had suggested that Buddhists were not necessarily heaven-bound, and she was so offended that she has not set foot in a church since then.

I had been under the impression that this woman was at least a professing Christian, but I guess I was wrong about that -- because her account was almost an exact replica of one of my own from my vehemently anti-Christian days:

The first time I went [to a church] because of a deal I’d made with this hypothetical God. It was fall, and the Packers were in Texas, facing another humiliating defeat by the hated Dallas Cowboys. “I’ll give You a chance to prove Your existence,” I’d told Him the night before the big game. “I’ll go to church tomorrow morning. All I ask in return is a Packer victory in the afternoon.”

I held up my end of the bargain by attending a jam-packed Sunday-morning service at this megachurch. In some ways, the service was a trip down Memory Lane. I hadn’t picked up a hymn book or tried to sight-read music since I was a kid taking piano lessons, and it gave me a bittersweet longing for my childhood.

In other ways, the service was horrifying: an Asian man got up and spoke about how missionaries from this church had “saved” him from Buddhism. The arrogance of these Christians, I thought. Implying that their way was the only way and that people needed rescuing from other religions!

Feeling persecuted on behalf of Buddhists everywhere, I headed home to watch the Packers lose to the Cowboys. (Heaven Without Her, page 83)

It’s a good illustration, I think, of how very confused the lost are about Jesus Christ, about why He went to the cross, and about what His death and resurrection mean to us personally.  

So when this 21st century Buddhist apologist said almost exactly the same thing to me the other day, I found it pretty exciting to be sitting on the other side of the narrow gate. “I know exactly how she feels,” I thought, saying a quick, silent prayer for wisdom. “I just need to explain it to her. She’s smart, and she’s reasonable, and she’s very sweet, so this is a wonderful opportunity to share the gospel!”

Alas, four words into my explanation, she became irate. I tried again – same result. And again.

“The Bible says,” I began.

“The Bible was written by men!” she raged, not saying whether her objection was species or gender.

“Men who were inspired by –“

“I don’t believe that!” she snapped, obviously disgusted by the very idea of inspiration.

“But --

“I said I don’t believe that!” she hissed on her way out the door.

I don’t know that anyone ever tried to reason with me from the Scriptures in my atheist days, as I’d hoped (and failed) to do in this little encounter. But I’m pretty sure that my response would have been just like this woman’s, and so many others I’ve tried to share the gospel with over the years – tolerant of everyone in the world except people armed with a Bible and a love of truth.

In the end, all we can do is pray for those who are offended by our precious “stone of stumbling and rock of offense” (1 Peter 2:7), asking Him to do whatever it takes to soften their hearts while empowering us to respond without anger or even impatience.


It's a tall order, but fortunately nothing is too hard for the Lord.

If you’ve been a Christian for any length of time, chances are you’ve been exposed to the idea that we all share a few common beliefs, beyond which are simple denominational differences – differences that are all equally valid, and mostly irrelevant. 
 
Sounds good, doesn’t it? It’s just so very tolerant of us – and we all know that tolerance is the #1 virtue in our world today.
 
Indeed, it would be just fine if the differences had to do with open-to-debate issues such as identifying the Nephilim or the Antichrist, or more subjective topics such as musical styles or hats and hair length.
 
But that's not where it ends. We disagree over foundational issues. And when we begin taking those issues off the table, we really have very little left in common. In fact, it seems that the only thing that everyone agrees on is that Jesus’ death is related in some way to paying the penalty for sin. 
 
But that’s about it. Within the professing church, there’s no agreement about how much of the world’s sin He paid for, or whose sin He paid for, or how one goes about availing oneself of whatever payment might be available. 
 
In short, today’s church is so unified in its appreciation of theological diversity that we are not even able, with one voice, to tell a seeker how he or she can be assured of eternity in heaven. Even though it's spelled out clearly in the Bible.
 
According to the ultra-tolerant “all viewpoints welcome” crowd, this is not a problem. Whatever works for you is fine; and for Pete’s sake, don’t argue about it. Don’t be distracted by this issue. Don’t be divisive. Don’t be like those dowdy legalists who object to makeup and hair dye. 
 
One could refute this idea point by point. But I have done so at length in the past, and in the end, it’s a waste of time. Once a professing Christian is convinced that it doesn’t really matter why Jesus died, or whom He died for, he or she is free to welcome any and all ideas (except, apparently, for those held by fuddy-duddy fundamentalists). 
 
Could this indifference to truth be what the apostle Paul was referring to in 2 Thessalonians 2, when he wrote: “The coming of the lawless one is according to the working of Satan … with all unrighteous deception among those who perish, because they did not receive the love of the truth, that they might be saved. And for this reason God will send them strong delusion, that they should believe the lie, that they all may be condemned who did not believe the truth but had pleasure in unrighteousness …”
 
Is apathy towards truth part of the strong delusion? Is the “I’m okay, you’re okay” philosophy a sign of finding pleasure in the admiration of a world that worships at the altar of tolerance? 
 
I am reminded of Pilate: “What is truth?” I am reminded of the serpent: “Hath God really said?” But I suppose that’s a divisive thing to say, so I won’t go there.
 
But there is one thing I wish the “anything goes” gang would think about. And that’s why, if tolerance is so crucial to the church’s success, has Christianity been crashing and burning in the west over the last 60 years, just as this movement has taken over our seminaries and pulpits?  
 
Ironically, we can’t even agree that there’s a problem, can we? But you don’t have to look far for proof of this decline. 
 
If you have a strong stomach, try googling a phrase such as “empty churches in the U.S.” or “empty churches in Europe.” Or spend some time reviewing the Religion News Service’s recent analysis, published here and summarized in the chart shown above. 
 
Then please ‘splain why it’s such a good thing that the church can’t even agree on the gospel of Jesus Christ.  

I was thinking recently about how sad it is that so many professing Christians give such short shrift to the word of God these days, picking and choosing what parts of it they want to believe and obey and ignoring the rest. 
 
Someone once presented me with an apt analogy involving one Jane Doe-Blow and her beloved husband Joe Blow. It seems that Joe went off to war, leaving behind a long letter describing how he loved Jane and what he had done for her and how he wanted her to live until his return.  
 
Not surprisingly, Jane read Joe’s letter over and over, slowly and lovingly, weighing each word and phrase and sentence, reading between the lines to squeeze out every last ounce of what Joe was thinking as he wrote to her. And because she really loved him, she also obeyed everything he said about how he wanted her to live as she awaited his return.  

I don’t think that’s too far-fetched, do you? 
 
Yet when it comes to the Lord’s love letter to humanity, way too many professing Christians read a paragraph here and there and call that Bible study. They feel no need to try to learn about Him and what He did for us in suffering and dying on the cross, how He bore the sins of the world to pay our sin penalty. They are under no compulsion to find out how He operates in this world, or what He expects of us. They are not even the least bit curious about His prescription for getting into heaven.
 
After all, some minister has told them in seven words or seventy all they need to know about Him – a description they then embellish as much or as little as they please. It’s just so much easier and more fun and more acceptable to make up and obey this god of their imaginations, a god who just happens to agree with them on every last point. 
 
Which is a major reason that we end up with heresies from the social gospel to name-it-and-claim-it theology. And why, when we try to share God’s truth with these people, they have no qualms about rejecting what they’re convinced is just one more (far less inviting) opinion on the matter.
 
I suppose it’s really no surprise that this is the case today, since it’s what the Bible predicts for the last days. As Paul wrote in 2 Timothy 4: "For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine, but according to their own desires, because they have itching ears, they will heap up for themselves teachers; and they will turn their ears away from the truth, and be turned aside to fables." 
  

"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." (Romans 8:28) 

If you've been looking for more proof that this verse is indeed true, here it is! 

Trapped in Hitler’s Hell is a first-person account of a young German Jewish girl’s trials, tragedies and triumphs in the years before, during and after World War II – a wonderful book on so many levels, appealing to every aspect of soul and spirit.
 
First, it’s a cliff-hanging adventure story to rival the finest I’ve ever read. I found it nearly impossible to put down. 
 
Second, it’s intellectually satisfying for anyone who’s fascinated by modern European history, by a world that allowed Hitler to put his demonic plans into motion, and especially by what it must have been like to live through such terrible times. 
 
Third, it’s a love story that captures, in well-chosen and well-told vignettes, a daughter’s devotion to her mother. 
 
Fourth, it’s a story of a rock-solid belief in happy endings, a belief that may appear baseless but seems to be its own reward through unimaginable ordeals.      
 
Finally, and most importantly, it’s a story of complete faith in the Lord Jesus Christ – in the childlike trust He wants us all to have as we labor through earthly lives that are plagued by loss. It is in fact a story that shows us precisely what it means to live for the Lord … and to take Him at His word when He promises, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” 
 
My only criticism is that Trapped in Hitler’s Hell is too short. The author has done a magnificent job of giving readers just enough detail to feed our imaginations, without bogging us down. But as quickly as I raced through its pages, desperate to find out what happened to this daughter and her mother, I was very sad to turn the last page. I did not want this girl’s story to end. 
 
Come to think of it, thanks to her relationship with the Messiah Himself, her story never will end. 
 
Many thanks to Anita Dittman and her talented memoirist Jan Markell for an unforgettable book!  For details about the book and its new companion DVD, visit the Hitler's Hell website -- and be sure to check out the trailer for WND's new DVD here.

Over lunch today, I read, in the fine magazine Israel My Glory, an article entitled "Thank God for 'Reveille.'" Author Peter Colon framed his discussion of the proof, the power and the promise of Christ's resurrection with an account of Winston Churchill's 1965 funeral -- a funeral with an astonishing conclusion.

I've searched and searched for a recording to share with you. Surely one exists, but apparently even the news media of that far less skeptical era didn't feel compelled to report on it. The best I could find was the report delivered by Billy Graham on the occasion of Richard Nixon's funeral:
 
"Years ago, Winston Churchill planned his own funeral.  And he did so with the
hope of the resurrection and eternal life which he firmly believed in.  And he
instructed after the benediction that a bugler positioned high in the dome of
St. Paul’s Cathedral would play Taps, the universal signal that says the day is
over. 

"But then came a very dramatic moment as Churchill had instructed.  Another
bugler was placed on the other side of the massive dome, and he played the notes
of Reveille, the universal signal that a new day has dawned and it is time to
arise. 

"That was Churchill’s testimony that at the end of history, the last note will not be Taps, it’ll be Reveille.  There is hope beyond the grave because Jesus Christ has opened the door to heaven for us by his death and resurrection."

I can't imagine a more moving or compelling testimony to the power of the gospel -- and it was delivered without a single word!

"And yet the question persists: What will heaven be like?

"I have my own ideas about my arrival there, anyway – ideas firmly grounded in earthly things, however, so they probably aren’t even remotely true.

"Still, it’s all I have to work with. And so my fantasy begins with suddenly finding myself walking down a dirt road on a perfect summer day, surrounded by flowering shrubs and big old trees and zillions of flowers. The birds are singing and the butterflies are flitting and there are bunnies and foxes and horses all over the place.

"As I stroll along, I suddenly notice a cat coming towards me – a white cat, it seems. As we get closer to each other, I notice that the cat has gray paws and ears and amazing blue eyes. And then in the blink of an eye I realize that it’s my precious Siamese Sam, who died in November of 2001. He races up to me and leaps into my arms, his purrs the background music to a joyful reunion.

"And my dream goes on, with me meeting each of my beloved pets along the way – including basset Woody, who died just months after Mom –  until I finally see, in the distance, the Piet Mondrian house whose picture hangs on the wall of my home office. And as I get closer I can see my first yellow lab Thumper, and standing behind him, my mom and dad and Granny …

"My fantasy always ends there, however. I can’t seem to get any closer. Maybe there are simply some joys that are too overwhelming for an earthly heart to handle."

--From Heaven Without Her, page 246