This is my Church Newsletter article for March.  It is inspired by frustration with longstanding Christians who seem to have so little motivation to further mature in matters of their spiritual lives.  It seems natural and normal to me that a follower of Christ would want to know Him better and serve Him more effectively.  Yet, so many seem satisfied.  In my opinion, one should never be "satisfied" with who he is or what he is about in life. 

So, here's a sample of the monthly screech I send out to our church membership. 

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On Sunday evenings, I just completed a two-part series entitled Great Escapes.  Last week we considered the accounts from the Bible of the escapes of Lot and his family from Sodom (Genesis 19:14-26), Samson with the help of the jawbone of an ass (Judges 15:11-16), and Paul and Silas from the Philippian jail via an earthquake (Acts 16:25-34).  The accounts we studied this time were a bit more obscure.  First was the story of Rahab who helped the Hebrew spies to escape from Jericho down a rope from her window (Joshua 2:1-20).  Then we considered how David's wife, Michel, helped her husband to escape from King Saul by placing an idol in the bed with goat's hair (I Samuel 19:9-17).  Finally, we observed how an obscure servant woman hid Jonathan and Ahimael in a well (II Samuel 17:15-22).

An interesting theme runs through all three of the accounts from this week.  All three escapes were enabled with the use of a falsehood.  And I will call it not a prevarication, or a stretching of the truth, but a downright lie.  In each matter God's purpose was advanced through the breaking of the ninth commandment, "Thou shalt not bear false witness".  So, the question that begs to be asked and which I was just foolish enough to present to the congregation: Is there ever a time when lying is the right thing to do?

I need to be clear with what I am asking my congregation and readers to consider.  I know there are people, for whatever reason, who are adept at grabbing a snippet of a statement with which to build an entire judgment of a person.  I can clearly picture such a person, with Bible in hand and fire in eyes, proclaiming far and wide, "PastorDave thinks you ought to lie." and "PastorDave doesn't believe the Bible."  Next the said individual would gather with like-minded persons to collect kindling and soon to start the roasting, with me as the main item on the menu. 

No, I am not encouraging people to lie.  But I am encouraging you to deal with a complex issue that confronts us from the scriptures and in everyday life.  The three accounts I have shared have as their "heroes" servants of God who lied in order to accomplish their purposes, and are held up for us in the Word of God as worthy examples.  If we are to be honest, we need to consider: Are there times when a lie best serves the purpose of God?

Two scriptures from the New Testament help me to find an acceptable answer:
Ephesians 4:15 (KJV)
¹⁵ But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ:
I am exhorted not just to speak the truth, but to "...speak.. the truth in love".  The naked truth can be a very unloving thing.  You and I need to be very careful about how hurtful can be words spoken without a loving heart, even if they are technically matters of truth.

James 2:8 (KJV)
⁸ If ye fulfil the royal law according to the scripture, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, ye do well:
The law, that is king of all other laws, that trumps all other guidelines for human behavior, is the royal law of love.  In every situation, and especially matters of lasting import, the question must be asked, "How can love best be served?"  Then, it is answered with action.

Thus, the Royal Law Of Love meets the Ninth Commandment.  Here are some challenges for consideration:

(1) Your wife (or girlfriend) just spent $100 plus on a major change with her hair.  You find it a bit disturbing.  She asks, with a big smile and anticipation, "How do you like my hair?"

(2) Your little boy, with tears in his eyes, is grieving the loss of a pet.  "Mommy, is Scooter in Heaven?"  At his age and state of fragility, he is not needing a theological discussion. 

(3) You live in Vietnam.  The officials are raiding churches and arresting church leaders.  The pastor of the local house church is hiding in your home.  The authorities knock on your door, and ask if you have seen any of the church leaders. 

(4) You work with teenagers, perhaps through your church.  One of the kids who attends your meetings needs structure, but most of all needs love.  He has a strict and physically abusive father.  The child has not behaved well at the last youth group meetings.  When dad comes to pick up his son, he asks, "Did my boy behave today?"  You can see fear in the eyes of the teen. 

I submit, in 99% of the matters of life, the ninth commandment is to be literally followed.  Never is one to stray for strictly selfish reason.  Exceptions are rare, and worthy of consideration and prayer.  And, always, remember the Royal Law of Love.

The Atlanta-Journal Constitution

Connor stopped by for his semi-regular visit, at the usual time.  It was around 5 p.m., dinnertime.  The doorbell rang.  “Oh no,” I thought.  "Food is going to get cold, conversations unfinished, and relaxation interrupted." 

Indeed it was my new friend.  He stood on the carport refusing to come into the house, although he was invited several times.  And, conversation with him was interesting, as always.  As I’ve said before, Connor is an intelligent man, but with obvious problems.  We talked about many things. 

He stood beside my old, but clean and reliable, van and told me what he thought.  “What a piece of junk.  What did you pay for it?  Maybe $400?  Don’t these people pay you anything?”
“Well, Connor, I like my van.  Look at it.  It has leather seats.  I think it looks good.”
“It’s a piece of crap.”
“O.K.”

I know Connor lives in an abandoned building down the road.  He sleeps in a make-shift cardboard bed, lined with old jackets and blankets for warmth.  He cooks on a propane stove.  And he’s been doing such for as long as people around here can remember.

“Have you ever thought about living in an apartment?” I asked.
“Yeah, I have.  One time I had matters all arranged.  But, if I were to move into an apartment, then it would all stop.”
“What would stop?”
“It.  See there was a guy up the road and it stopped for him.  He ballooned up, and got really fat.”
“But, Connor, living in an apartment is good….”

The conversation abruptly and characteristically changed..  He was off onto another tangent.

“You know I fill up my van with day-old bread, and get food from the dumpsters, and give it to hungry people.”
“Yeah, that’s very thoughtful of you.”
“But, you know, sometimes in order to get them to take the bread, I have to give them a dollar.  Especially the Mexicans.”
“You have to give them a dollar?”
“Sometimes two.  I don’t give them much, now.  Just enough so they will eat.”
I thought what a kind heart this man has.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said in his matter-of-fact manner.  He handed me a money order, typed out to the church, for $100.  My heart melted.
“Use it for whatever you want.”
“Connor, this is so kind of you….  But, my friend, you don’t have much.  Why don’t you take this money and buy some food, or clothes?  You could really use a nice jacket.”
His mind was made up.  Just like with my van.
“I’m going to put this money into the benevolence fund, so we can help needy people.  Often someone will come by needing food, clothes, or shelter.  You’ll be helping them.” He didn’t offer to acknowledge my words.

Then he said something additional, and interesting.  The night before, he sat through the church business conference as we discussed the purchase of new cushions for the pews.
“Why don’t you take the $15,000 you are going to use on pews, and get a doctor to come in here and help poor people? 
“It’s $8,000”, I replied, almost inaudibly.
"Whatever."

It was time for Connor to leave.  I offered him a ride.  He refused.  I watched as he walked down the road.  I held his check gingerly in my hands, like something fragile and precious.