R.C. Sproul on Mistaking Grace for Entitlement

In an earlier post I confessed my frustration with the idea of natural rights.  I am troubled by the extent to which they have been utilized to empower a self-centered mentality.  I find the problem especially disturbing in the church because a person who is enamored with "their rights" often forgets the blessing that their freedoms are in the first place. 

R.C. Sproul comments on this problem in a blog he recently posted by recounting a story about his early teaching days.  I'll re-post it here:

My favorite illustration of how callous we have become with respect to the mercy, love, and grace of God comes from the second year of my teaching career, when I was given the assignment of teaching two hundred and fifty college freshman an introductory course on the Old Testament. On the first day of the class, I gave the students a syllabus and I said: “You have to write three short term papers, five pages each. The first one is due September 30 when you come to class, the second one October 30, and the third one November 30. Make sure that you have them done by the due date, because if you don’t, unless you are physically confined to the infirmary or in the hospital, or unless there is a death in the immediate family, you will get an F on that assignment. Does everybody understand that?” They all said, “Yes.”

On September 30, two hundred and twenty-five of my students came in with their term papers. There were twenty-five terrified freshmen who came in trembling. They said: “Oh, Professor Sproul, we didn’t budget our time properly. We haven’t made the transition from high school to college the way we should have. Please don’t flunk us. Please give us a few more days to get our papers finished.”
I said: “OK, this once I will give you a break. I will let you have three more days to get your papers in, but don’t you let that happen again.”

“Oh, no, we won’t let it happen again,” they said. “Thank you so, so, so much.”

Then came October 30. This time, two hundred students came with their term papers, but fifty students didn’t have them. I asked, “Where are your papers?”

They said: “Well, you know how it is, Prof. We’re having midterms, and we had all kinds of assignments for other classes. Plus, it’s homecoming week. We’re just running a little behind. Please give us just one more chance.”

I asked: “You don’t have your papers? Do you remember what I said the last time? I said, ‘Don’t even think about not having this one in on time.’ And now, fifty of you don’t have them done.”

“Oh, yes,” they said, “we know.”

I said: “OK. I will give you three days to turn in your papers. But this is the last time I extend the due date.”

Do you know what happened? They started singing spontaneously, “We love you, Prof Sproul, oh, yes, we do.” I was the most popular professor on that campus.

But then came November 30. This time one hundred of them came with their term papers, but a hundred and fifty of them did not. I watched them walk in as cool and as casual as they could be. So I said, “Johnson!”

“What?” he replied.

“Do you have your paper?”

“Don’t worry about it, Prof,” he responded. “I’ll have it for you in a couple of days.”

I picked up the most dreadful object in a freshman’s experience, my little black grade book. I opened it up and I asked, “Johnson, you don’t have your term paper?”

He said, “No”

I said, “F,” and I wrote that in the grade book. Then I asked, “Nicholson, do you have your term paper?” “No, I don’t have it.” “F. Jenkins, where is your term paper?”

“I don’t have it.”

“F.”

Then, out of the midst of this crowd, someone shouted, “That’s not fair.” I turned around and asked, “Fitzgerald, was that you who said that?”

He said, “Yeah, it’s not fair.”

I asked, “Weren’t you late with your paper last month?”

“Yeah,” he responded.

“OK, Fitzgerald, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. If it’s justice you want, it’s justice you will get.” So I changed his grade from October to an F. When I did that, there was a gasp in the room. I asked, “Who else wants justice?” I didn’t get any takers.

There was a song in the musical My Fair Lady titled “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face.” Well, those students had grown accustomed to my grace. The first time they were late with their papers, they were amazed by grace. The second time, they were no longer surprised; they basically assumed it. By the third time, they demanded it. They had come to believe that grace was an inalienable right, an entitlement they all deserved.

I took that occasion to explain to my students: “Do you know what you did when you said, ‘That’s not fair’? You confused justice and grace.” The minute we think that anybody owes us grace, a bell should go off in our heads to alert us that we are no longer thinking about grace, because grace, by definition, is something we don’t deserve. It is something we cannot possibly deserve. We have no merit before God, only demerit. If God should ever, ever treat us justly outside of Christ, we would perish. Our feet would surely slip.

The Ethics of Pacifism

Last week Nathaniel and I watched Braveheart.  I recognize that it has become one of the most cliche movies in recent memory, so much so that along with other films like The Shawshank Redemption and Gladiator is has become banned from use in personal Top Five lists.  However, like every other person in the Northwestern Hemisphere (with the exclusion of my mother), I love it.  I love the anger and the passion that William Wallace brings to his fight against the British.  Heads are lopped off, legs are severed and hearts and pierced with arrows and all the while I am jittery with excitement because the Scottish are really and truly going to win their freedom!  And then, just as Wallace led his men onto the battlefield at Falkirk, I remembered an article that I read recently about pacifism and I became alarmingly aware of just how undecided I am on the issue.

Surprisingly enough, I have given quite a bit of thought to the idea of pacifism in the past few years.  Early on, in my uber-conservative, zealous-to-the-point-of-crazy days, I considered pacifism to be weak and truth be told, I probably had deep suspicions about the patriotism of pacifists.  How could you love America and oppose its work overseas?  Eventually though, I began to realize that "The Evangelical Right" was not wholly united in their support of the American military efforts.  In fact, I began to notice that there are several, very distinguished and respected, theologians who are opposed to capital punishment and Christian involvement in the military.  This realization forced me to confront my very preconceived notions that I had about capital punishment and military intervention.  But at the end of this time of consideration, I still find myself confused and uncertain and I think that the aforementioned blog post demonstrates my concerns pretty clearly.  So now, in the words of Taylor Mali, "I invite you to join me on the bandwagon of my own uncertainty."

The post in question was written by theologian Ben Witherington and it was entitled, "Why Capital Punishment is not Such a Capital and Christian Idea." In this post, he argues that Christians should not be employed in any career in which they are responsible or in any way involved in the taking of human life.  He based his argument on the life and example of Christ and cited passages from Matthew 18 and Genesis 4 as evidence of Christ's respect for life.  Witherington allows, although with doubts, that Romans 13 provides warrant for a government's involvement in killing, but he suggests that Christians who intend to live by the love ethic set forth in the New Testament and displayed by Christ should shun all involvement in the taking of human life.

Basing a pacifist theory off of the New Testament ethic of love is a compelling argument.  The greatest commandment is to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind...and the second is like it, love your neighbor as your self."  Furthermore, the entire book of 1 Corinthians hinges on love.  We are to love our enemies, pray for those to persecute us and turn the other cheek.  And the question that is left after all of this is "how can it be loving to kill someone?"

For all of the reasons I've listed above, I find Ben Witherington's argument compelling, but I also have concerns.  At several points in his article it appears to argue that there is a marked distinction between the state and the church, and not just a distinction of purpose.  It appears as if Witherington believes that there are two sets of ethical norms: one for the state and one for the Christian.  He says, "...but there is a higher calling on the life of Christians, a higher law and a set of principles they must answer to - namely Jesus and that law of Christ."  This quote would suggest that the state functions and is bound to a base notion of Biblical ethics, but that Christians and the Church are held to a higher morality.  Can this really be the case?  Does Jesus set out a general ethical expectation but then hold his followers to a higher expectation? Would "right" then have to be classified as "good, better or best?"

In short, I have two major concerns about the argument put forth by Witherington:

1. I believe that what Witherington argues regarding the "higher calling" of Christians propogates the notion that there are duel moralities functioning in the world.  I find this very problematic because what would be a sinful action for one person is an accepted practice for another.  How can killing be appropriate and acceptable for one group of people (i.e. non-Christians) and be an unacceptable moral norm for others?
   
   
2. Futhermore, I find his argument concerning Romans 13 to be rather weak.
   
   Romans 13:4 reads, "for he [the government] is God's servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain."  In his article, Witherington confesses doubts about how scholars have historically interpreted this passage.  Typically this verse is used in support of justice that is distributed by the government.  It would appear even, that it is good and ordered by God.  Witherington however, questions the interpretation because of the Greek word for "sword."
   
   He argues that the word used in Romans 13 refers to a "short sword" and that during the Roman era the "short sword" was used as a tool for personal protection and not a means for execution.  Therefore, he concludes that this passage is not referencing the government's ability or license to implement capital punishment.
   
   I believe that this assessment misses the point of the analogy.  The state, not an individual, is using a sword and swords typically represent violence (otherwise why be afraid of the sword?).  Romans 13 reveals that the state does utilize a sword and that action is not condemned by Paul.

I don't believe that these two concerns completely undermine the pacifist argument, however I do think that they demonstrate that the argument isn't as clear cut as it sometimes appears.  Regardless, the argument that Witherington makes is compelling, convicting and well worth my consideration.

A Cheap Re-Post

I am a blogging derelict and this post does nothing to fix that status.  However, my husband, after having himself taken a two month hiatus, has posted a particularly good blog post and I have chosen to post a link to it here.  In the post he discusses what responsibilities Christians carry and how at different times in history, they have failed to live up to those responsibilities.  A good read from a good man.