Only One Race

black-white-twinsKen Ham of Answers in Genesis “what ‘black and white twins’ can teach us about race: it’s not real” and “they’re fascinating because they highlight just how flimsy and open to interpretation the racial categories we use in the US and around the world are.” There’s only one race, the human race.

Another interesting story that has resurfaced is about a young family that also had twin girls. One is dark and the other is light. Then the family had twin girls a second time, and again, one is dark and one is light!

There’s Only One Race!
These two stories aren’t unique either. As we’ve pointed out before, there are other examples of families having twins with different skin shades. These families illustrate that we really are only one race. Now, evolutionary ideas about the past predicted that there would be different races as different groups evolved at different times. Evolution is inherently a racist philosophy. See “Did Darwin Promote Racism?”

However, according to the Bible’s history, there’s no such thing as different races. Acts 17:26 says, “And He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth.” When we go back to Genesis we see that everyone is a descendant of Adam and Eve. That’s why we can all be saved by the last Adam, Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 15:45). In a biblical worldview, there’s no room for racism or racist attitudes. All humans are equal before God—all are sinners—and all need the free gift of salvation.

Why Do We Look Different?
So why do we look so different? Well, according to the Bible’s history, after the global Flood of Noah’s day, God commanded Noah and his descendants, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth” (Genesis 9:1). But instead of filling the earth, mankind rebelled against God at the Tower of Babel. God judged their disobedience by confusing their languages. This forced mankind to spread out and fill the earth. As groups became genetically isolated from one another by language and geographic barriers, certain features, such as eye shape or skin shade, became prominent in different groups. Such differences just reflect the enormous genetic variability God built into the human kind. Babel explains why there are different people groups with distinct differences.

The evolutionary and biblical worldview both make very different predictions about the nature of mankind. Evolution predicted there would be many races; the Bible makes it clear there’s only one. And observational science confirms the history of the Bible—not evolutionary ideas about the past! Not only do we see examples like these twins that show that skin shade is only a result of inbuilt genetic variability, but when geneticists mapped the human genome in 2000 it was reported that “the researchers had unanimously declared there is only one race—the human race.” Science confirms God’s Word, not evolutionary ideas about the past, because God’s Word is true from the very beginning because it was written by the God (2 Timothy 3:16) who was there and who never lies (Titus 1:2).

Is It Really Black and White? Continue reading

The Place of Humor in Preaching

When it comes to the use of humor in preaching, there are differing views to be sure. The puritan pastor Richard Baxter was strongly against any such use. In his book “Reformed Pastor” he writes:

All our work must be managed reverently, as beseemeth them that believe the presence of God, and use not holy things as if they were common. Reverence is that affection of the soul which proceedeth from deep apprehensions of God and indicateth a mind that is much conversant with him. To manifest irreverence in the things of God is to manifest hypocrisy, and that the heart agreeth not with the tongue. I know not how it is with others, but the most reverent preacher, that speaks as if he saw the face of God, doth more affect my heart, though with common words, than an irreverent man with the most exquisite preparations. Yea, though he bawl it out with never so much seeming earnestness, if reverence be not answerable to fervency, it worketh but little. Of all preaching in the world, I hate that preaching which tends to make the hearers laugh, or to move their minds with tickling levity, and affect them as stage-plays used to do, instead of affecting them with a holy reverence in the name of God . . . Speak to your people as to men that must be awakened, either here or in hell. Whatever you do, let the people see that you are in good earnest. You cannot break men’s heart by jesting with them, or telling them a smooth tale, or pronouncing a gaudy oration.

Taking a very different view, John R. W. Stott writes:

Humor involves the perception of the true proportions of life. It is one of the most helpful qualities that the preacher can possess. There is no extravagance which deforms the pulpit which would not be modified and repressed, often entirely obliterated, if the minister had a true sense of humor. It has softened the bitterness of controversy a thousand times. You cannot encourage it too much. You cannot grow too familiar with the books of all ages which have in them the truest humor, for the truest humor is the bloom of the highest life. Read George Eliot and Thackeray, and above all Shakespeare. They will help you to keep from extravagances without fading into insipidity. They will preserve your gravity while they save you from pompous frivolity.

The acknowledged need for earnestness in our preaching inevitably prompts the question whether it is ever appropriate for the preacher to make the congregation laugh. At first sights seriousness and laughter appear to be incompatible… The issue is not so easily settled, however. Because of the precedent set by Jesus, it is hardly surprising that the use of humor in preaching and teaching has had a long and honorable tradition. It particularly flourished during the sixteenth-century Reformation, for both Martin Luther on the Continent and Hugh Latimer in England used their earthy descriptive powers to the full. They drew cartoons with words, which still have the power to make us laugh today. So humor is legitimate. Nevertheless, we have to be sparing in our use of it and judicious in the topics we select for laughter. [Otherwise] people may stop taking us seriously. Our ministry will then be as effective as Lot’s who urged his sons-in-law to escape from Sodom… but ‘he seemed to be jesting’ (Gen. 19:14).

What, then, is the value of humor if used in the right places and about the right things? First it breaks tension. Most people find it hard to maintain mental concentration or to endure the build-up of emotional pressure for a prolonged period. They need to relax for a few moments, and one of the simplest, quickest and healthiest ways to secure their relaxation is to tell a joke and make them laugh.

Secondly, laughter has extraordinary power to break down people’s defenses. A man comes to church in a stubborn and rebellious frame of mind. He is determined not to respond to a missionary appeal or to change his mind over some issue. Then suddenly he laughs, in spite of himself, and his resistance collapses. [As one man put it] ‘I get their mouths open in a laugh and then ram the truth down.”

The third and greatest benefit of humor is that it humbles us by pricking the bubble of human pomposity. Moreover humor can be directed against oneself; one laughs at one’s own idiosyncrasies, at one’s ludicrous lapses from humanness. So humor should definitely not be prohibited in the pulpit. On the contrary, provided that we are laughing at the human condition, and therefore at ourselves, humor helps us to see things in proportion. It is often through laughter that we gain clear glimpses both of the heights from which we have fallen and of the depths to which we have sunk, leading to a wistful desire to be ‘ransomed, healed, restored, and forgiven’. Thus humor can be a genuine preparation for the gospel. Since it can contribute to the awakening within human hearts of shame over what we are and of longing for what we could be, we should press it gladly into service in the cause of the gospel.

While very aware of the vast gulf between the preaching talents of C. H. Spurgeon and my own; personality wise, I think its true to say that we share at least this little thing in common. I, like Spurgeon, am a “naturally humorous man”, and it bubbles out of me. While that is not necessarily a bad thing, it means I do need to be aware of that fact.

THE NEED FOR BALANCE

There is a definite need for balance in this area. Finding that balance is not always easy. One thing is sure, as the saying goes, “you cannot please all of the people, all of the time.” Those who believe humor has no place in the pulpit, historically speaking, would have had no use whatsoever for the Luthers and the Spurgeons of this world, and yet God used them mightily.

Concerning Spurgeon, even in his day, “the Prince of Preachers” was often accused of using humor far too much in his preaching. A friend and fellow pastor, William Williams once wrote:

“What a bubbling fountain of humor Mr. Spurgeon had! I laughed more, I verily believe, when in his company than during all the rest of my life besides. He had the most fascinating gift of laughter… and he had also the greatest ability for making all who heard him laugh with him. When someone blamed him for saying humorous things in his sermons, he said, “He would not blame me if he only knew how many of them I keep back.””

I believe the “good doctor” Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones is right when he writes:

The history of preaching and preachers shows that there have been tremendous variations. In the case of an outstandingly great preacher like Spurgeon there was a great deal of humor – some of us would say too much humor. He was a naturally humorous man, it bubbled out of him. But then take Whitefield, on whom Spurgeon modeled himself – he was never humorous. Whitefield was always tremendously serious. In the eighteenth century to which he belonged, there were other men like John Berridge of Everton in England, who again was one of these natural humorists. These men always trouble me because I feel that they tended to go too far, and allowed their humor to run away with them. I would dare not to say that there is no place for humor in preaching; but I do suggest that it should not be a very big place because of the nature of the work, and because of the character of the Truth with which we are dealing. The preacher is dealing with and concerned about souls and their destiny. He is standing between God and men and acting as an ambassador for Christ. I would have thought that as an overriding consideration, the most one can say for the place of humor is that it is only allowable if it is natural. The man who tries to be humorous is an abomination and should never be allowed to enter a pulpit.

“Use humor but do so cautiously!” seems to be the wisest counsel. Balance is often in the eye of the beholder, and yet, may God help each of us preachers pursue it with diligence.

How do I discern a call to the ministry?

sp068C. H. Spurgeon from “Lectures to My Students” (Zondervan) p. 29-31:

The first sign of the heavenly call is an intense, all-absorbing desire for the work. In order to a true call to the ministry there must be an irresistible, overwhelming craving and raging thirst for telling to others what God has done to our own souls; what if I call it a kind of otopyn, such as birds have for rearing their young when the season is come; when the mother-bird would sooner die than leave her nest?

It was said of Alleine by one who knew him intimately, that “he was infinitely and insatiably greedy of the conversion of souls.” When he might have had a fellowship at his university, he preferred a chaplaincy, because he was “inspired with an impatience to be occupied in direct ministerial work.” “Do not enter the ministry if you can help it,” was the deeply sage advice of a divine to one who sought his judgment.

If any student in this room could be content to be a newspaper editor, or a grocer, or a farmer, or a doctor, or a lawyer, or a senator, or a king, in the name of heaven and earth let him go his way; he is not the man in whom dwells the Spirit of God in its fulness, for a man so filled with God would utterly weary of any pursuit but that for which his inmost soul pants. If on the other hand, you can say that for all the wealth of both the Indies you could not and dare not espouse any other calling so as to be put aside from preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ, then, depend upon it, if other things be equally satisfactory, you have the signs of this apostleship. We must feel that woe is unto us if we preach not the gospel; the word of God must be unto us as fire in our bones, otherwise, if we undertake the ministry, we shall be unhappy in it, shall be unable to bear the self-denials incident to it, and shall be of little service to those among whom we minister.

I speak of self-denials, and well I may; for the true pastor’s work is full of them, and without a love to his calling he will soon succumb, and either leave the drudgery, or move on in discontent, burdened with a monotony as tiresome as that of a blind horse in a mill.

“There is a comfort in the strength of love;
’Twill make a thing endurable which else
Would break the heart.”

Girt with that love, you will be undaunted; divested of that more than magic-belt of irresistible vocation, you will pine away in wretchedness.

This desire must be a thoughtful one. It should not be a sudden impulse unattended by anxious consideration. It should be the outgrowth of our heart in its best moments, the object of our reverent aspirations, the subject of our most fervent prayers. It must continue with us when tempting offers of wealth and comfort come into conflict with it, and remain as a calm, clear-headed resolve after everything has been estimated at its right figure, and the cost thoroughly counted.

When living as a child at my grandfather’s in the country, I saw a company of huntsmen in their red coats riding through his fields after a fox. I was delighted! My little heart was excited; I was ready to follow the hounds over hedge and ditch. I have always felt a natural taste for that sort of business, and, as a child, when asked what I would be, I usually said I was going to be a huntsman. A fine profession, truly!

Many young men have the same idea of being parsons as I had of being a huntsman—a mere childish notion that they would like the coat and the horn-blowing; the honour, the respect, the ease; and they are probably even fools enough to think, the riches of the ministry. (Ignorant beings they must be if they look for wealth in connection with the Baptist ministry.) The fascination of the preacher’s office is very great to weak minds, and hence I earnestly caution all young men not to mistake whim for inspiration, and a childish preference for a call of the Holy Spirit.

Mark well, that the desire I have spoken of must be thoroughly disinterested. If a man can detect, after the most earnest self-examination, any other motive than the glory of God and the good of souls in his seeking the bishopric, he had better turn aside from it at once; for the Lord will abhor the bringing of buyers and sellers into his temple: the introduction of anything mercenary, even in the smallest degree, will be like the fly in the pot of ointment, and will spoil it all.

This desire should be one which continues with us, a passion which bears the test of trial, a longing from which it is quite impossible for us to escape, though we may have tried to do so; a desire, in fact, which grows more intense by the lapse of years, until it becomes a yearning, a pining, a famishing to proclaim the Word.

This intense desire is so noble and beautiful a thing, that whenever I perceive it glowing in any young man’s bosom, I am always slow to discourage him, even though I may have my doubts as to his abilities. It may be needful, for reasons to be given you further on, to repress the flame, but it should always be reluctantly and wisely done. I have such a profound respect for this “fire in the bones,” that if I did not feel it myself, I must leave the ministry at once. If you do not feel the consecrated glow, I beseech you return to your homes and serve God in your proper spheres; but if assuredly the coals of juniper blaze within, do not stifle them, unless, indeed, other considerations of great moment should prove to you that the desire is not a fire of heavenly origin.