The Cross and the Crown

Several years ago I heard about a large suburban church that rented a fifteen-thousand seat performance hall and invited a well-known college football coach to give his testimony about being a Christian coach. When I heard about this, what concerned me was not the fact that a college football coach was asked to give his testimony but that this event replaced the church’s Easter worship service. Instead of dedicating their worship service to the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ (as we are called to do each Lord’s Day), this church decided it could serve the interests of God’s people better if the congregation were not confined to the house of God where there was a pulpit and a cross. Rather, it seemed fitting to meet in a concert hall so that unbelievers would feel more comfortable in attending church on Easter Sunday. And by forsaking the testimony of the Word of God in order to hear the testimony of a popular football coach, the thousands who attended the event were deprived of true worship by the entrepreneurs of contemporary evangelicalism.
You Might also like
-
The Flight to Egypt
Probably several years following the desperate pre-dawn escape to Egypt, the angel returned and bid Joseph to travel back to Israel. To his credit, Joseph obeyed once again, leaving the temporary material security enjoyed in Egypt. Joseph and Mary’s expectations were rooted in submission to God’s plan: that was their basis for hope.
When the Magi had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.” So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod… After Herod died, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who were trying to take the child’s life are dead.”
Matthew 2:13-15, 19-21
Soon after the Magi visited and offered their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, Joseph was warned of impending catastrophe for his young family. King Herod, known for his efficient ruthlessness, had ascertained the general location of the Christ child and was preparing death squads to eliminate a potential rival to his throne. That Herod had the capacity to kill mercilessly was well-known: he had murdered his way to the Jewish throne and was responsible for the execution of many high-ranking Jews as well as his own wife Mariamne and some of his sons.
Joseph responded immediately, waking Mary, gathering their few belongings, and hastening into the night, bound for Egypt as directed by the angel. The night into which they vanished was both real and figurative. Herod was left in the dark, stymied in his effort to kill the babe. The Light of the World, the hope of humanity, had left Israel, as Joseph shielded the new baby from the world’s attention.
They were directed southward to Egypt, an entirely separate jurisdiction that had only recently been made part of the Roman Empire. Egypt has rich biblical connotations as a place of hope and succor. It was also historically a place of temptation for the Jews—a place where they might forget the Promised Land of their forefathers and the unique spiritual devotion to which they were called.
Many Old Testament figures found refuge in Egypt. Abram went there with his wife Sarai and left with a fortune. Abram later turned to an Egyptian servant girl in order to sire an heir. Decades later his grandson Jacob found relief from famine in Egypt and Jacob’s son Joseph rose to the prime minister’s position, saving Egypt and its people from seven years of deadly famine. Moses became a prince of Egypt when lost to his parents, and the Jewish nation thrived for four centuries in the incubator of Egypt prior to the events leading to the Exodus. Solomon cemented his grandest political alliance by marrying Pharaoh’s daughter and built his army around 12,000 of Egypt’s finest steeds. Later kings would side with Egypt in regional power politics, and Egypt became a haven for Jewish refugees fleeing Assyrians, Babylonians, and Seleucids over the centuries.
Read More -
Rejecting Syncretism: Paul and the Python
Written by Scott D. MacDonald |
Friday, August 19, 2022
People in the church who dabble with witchdoctors and occultism are ultimately deceived; they find no true, lasting solution. “To believe ‘Ukwimba kati kusansha na Lesa’ is to believe a lie. We must choose to trust and wait on God in every circumstance, and His Word must be our final authority as we encounter conflict with our African traditional proverbs and beliefs.”40 Jesus alone is our savior, and as Paul demonstrates in Philippi, the Christ did not come to work with the ng’anga. He came to set us free.Syncretism—the blending of two or more religious paradigms—threatens Christian witness around the world. And the church in Africa continues to struggle with the popularity of local religious practices. In many locales, the ng’anga (an African religious diviner) prominently features in the lives of many church-going people. In response, Paul’s mission to Philippi, recounted in Acts 16:16–18, provides needed clarity concerning Christianity’s relationship to other religious powers and to syncretism. This article outlines the religious backdrop of Philippi, Paul’s missionary method in the Greek religious context, and the consequences that arise from Paul’s exorcism of the πύθων. In sum, Paul’s reaction to the divining spirit of Philippi leaves no room for syncretistic behavior among Christians today. Accommodation and any reliance upon other religious powers compromises the quality of the gospel and the reputation of the savior.
As servants of Christ deliver the good news of Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection both near and far, ancient spiritual actors and religious competitors abound. In sub-Saharan Africa, every other urban street corner bears a sign promoting the abilities of some traditional power man from a rural or distant location, a place with charms difficult to undo by an average local witchdoctor.1 Even in supposedly secular cities in other parts of the world, vestiges of ancient paganism remain as astrologers and diviners offer their services in the public sphere without shame. Spiritual power is seemingly never beyond a human’s reach.
Depending on our cultural upbringing, such spiritual resources are our first or last resource in a time of need—an accepted and trusted form of support or a desperation-induced “last ditch” option. Occult practitioners claim to provide the knowledge we need, repair the relationships we crave, hinder the people we hate, and empower the economic endeavors on which we rely. They are the so-called “way-makers” and “problem-solvers” of the spiritually attuned.
How should the Christian relate to the ng’anga (i.e., the sangoma, the witchdoctor)?2 Sadly, the testimony from too many Christians in many places is mixed. In a moment of need, one might recite the Bemba proverb “Ukwimba kati kusansha na Lesa,” meaning “Charms are mixed with God for them to work.”3 Believers may easily justify a quick visit to the witchdoctor or use charms if they believe that God works in and through them!
Martin Mwamba, a pastor and talk show host with Faith Radio in Kitwe, Zambia, recounts an experience:
One day a woman texted me during the program. She said she had been working, and after retiring she had gotten her pension money, and now when going back home she was robbed. She continued, “I will take off my church uniform as a Christian and go kuli shi in’anga (‘to the witchdoctor’) and bewitch them.” Then her question was, “Is it right for a Christian to visit the witchdoctor?” The phone response from other listeners was interesting and shocking. Some suggested that she should go because God takes too much time to respond, and others said it was fine because witchdoctors give fast solutions, adding that they (witchdoctors) are also used by the same God.4
Hearing this kind of urgency-based decision making, Mwamba’s assertion is reasonable: “Even people in churches today in Africa would prefer to consult diviners and witchdoctors … to receive a quick solution to their daily problems.”5 After all, no one wants to wait for God!6
Occultists easily capture Christian customers. Surprisingly enough, many “witchdoctor shrines” are veritable havens of Christian objects like Bibles and practices like singing praise songs.7 And witchdoctors readily play along with the cultural idea that God empowers their work, offering to pray to God for effectiveness with charms and reciting a Scripture verse or two.8 Confusion abounds, and Christians readily step into the confusion by seeking their desired results despite the syncretism.
Syncretism is the “blending of one idea, practice, or attitude with another. Traditionally among Christians it has been used of the replacement or dilution of the essential truths of the gospel through the incorporation of non-Christian elements.”9 The ng’anga has played a central role in the African’s religious life throughout Africans’ collective memories. Despite Christianity’s inroads throughout Africa over the past century, the role and importance of the ng’anga has not evaporated. Many Christians sadly still find a need for them, and witchdoctors adjust and modify their practices to suit the Christian environment. Syncretism, the blending of African and Christian religious concepts, persists.
The irony is that many pulpits resound with sermons against syncretism. Preachers unflinchingly expound Jesus’s statement from John 14:6: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” “Jesus alone” is declared, yet the cultural norm remains firm: witchdoctors have a place in the life of Christians.
Many an African Christian still feels the draw of the ng’anga. The appeal of animism is not unique to Africa. While the African Christian visits the ng’anga, a European Christian convert dabbles in astrology, and an American teenager consults a Ouija board. The pull of spiritual knowledge and power is strong in Africa, but do not think that the rest of the world is immune! Thus, syncretism arises in every culture where Christianity enters, and “church history is filled with the struggle against syncretism from political, social, religious, and economic sources.”10 And the best response to our syncretistic attachments is a fidelity to Scripture, which both rebukes and affirms aspects of our church traditions and cultural norms.
One underutilized text in countering syncretism is Acts 16:16–18. Luke records the following account from the second missionary journey:
As we were going to the place of prayer, we were met by a slave girl who had a spirit of divination and brought her owners much gain by fortune-telling. She followed Paul and us, crying out, “These men are servants of the Most High God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation.” And this she kept doing for many days. Paul, having become greatly annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.” And it came out that very hour.11
While we could look to other missional encounters with spiritual power persons throughout Acts (e.g., Simon the Sorcerer, Elymus, the Sons of Sceva), the Philippian confrontation serves as an example to Christians throughout the world today. We must reject all forms of syncretism. Our missional testimony to non-Christians only heightens this necessity.
1. The Background of Acts 16:16–18
As we consider Acts 16:16–18, let us first locate where this episode occurs in Paul’s missional endeavors. Between leaving Antioch in Acts 15:36 and returning in 18:22, Paul’s work broke considerable new ground as the Lord turned the missionary team toward Greece.12 “Following his vision at Troas (Acts 16:8–10), the apostle Paul started the first church in ancient Greece at Philippi (c. AD 49–50, Acts 16:11–40).”13 Like Paul’s earlier ministry, which led to a confrontation with the sorcerer Elymus on the island of Cyprus (Acts 13:6–12), this journey involves another spiritual challenge in the city of Philippi.
Lest we mistakenly brand Paul as a troublemaker, Paul’s missionary method does not call for the immediate confrontation of any religious figures in a particular region. On Cyprus, Barnabas and Paul are not looking for Elymus. Instead, they proclaim the word of God to those who wish to hear it, such as Sergius Paulus (Acts 13:7). In Philippi, again, Paul’s priority is preaching, even after his initial meeting with the slave girl (Acts 16:16–18)! Creating religious conflict (which would ultimately result in his imprisonment) and exorcising a πύθων are not Paul’s primary objectives. Only when the situation proves intolerable, hindering his proclamation ministry in a new mission field, does Paul confront the slave girl and the spirit within her.
The Greek religious context is evident upon Paul and Silas’s entry into Philippi. As the slave girl attaches herself to their ministry, it is as if the current religious powers greet Paul at the gate and refuse to let go. While a casual reader of an English translation (e.g., “a spirit of divination” in the ESV, “a spirit by which she predicted the future” in the CSB) might mentally divorce this spirit-inhabited girl from the broader religious climate, the Greek text πνεῦμα πύθωνα at least indirectly ties the girl and her owners to the Greek oracular system.14 Keener explains that this spirit is “the same sort of spirit that stood behind the most famous of all Greek oracles, the Delphic oracle of Apollo whose priestess was called a pythoness.”15 And Herodotus confirms that oracles, inspired by a πύθων, were not limited to Delphi.16
Read More
Related Posts: -
The Certainties of the Christian Life
When it comes to real life, however, it’s probably safe to say that most people would appreciate more “spoilers.” Just thinking about the various tasks I can do on my phone in a matter of seconds is a reminder that finite, unsovereign creatures daily grasp for certainty. The weather forecast tells me what time a storm will come, the GPS tells me how many minutes the traffic jam will last, and the power-company app tells me when the lights will come back on. If we’re honest, we like these modern technologies because they make us feel just a little bit more in control in a fallen world that daily burdens us not only with present trials but also with potential trials. We might be discouraged about what happened yesterday, but we’re also anxious about what may happen next week.
Though our desire for certainty often manifests itself in sinful fear or a prideful attempt to defy our creatureliness, the desire for certainty isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Consider the holy certainty of God, for whom nothing is mysterious or unknown. He is not sitting on His throne imagining how He will respond if His plans are foiled, but rather, “He who sits in the heavens laughs” (Ps. 2:4). Why is He laughing? The nations rage, the peoples plot, and “the kings of the earth set themselves . . . against the Lord” (v. 2), but God is absolutely certain of who He is, and thus He is not alarmed or troubled whatsoever. His reign is eternal and indestructible, and He laughs at man’s feeble attempts to defy it.
Amazingly, God does not keep this laughter to Himself but desires His children to be laughing along with Him. We see this laughter in the God-fearing woman of Proverbs 31, who is clothed in strength and dignity, and “laughs at the time to come” (v. 25). This is no naive, “glass-half-full” laughter that turns a blind eye to the inevitable trials and frustrations of life in a fallen world. This laughter flows from an unwavering conviction that He who sits in the heavens is not only God Almighty but also perfect Father, who not only cares for but also communicates with His children. Weaving an astonishing narrative of redemption, He clearly reveals Himself in a Word that is fully trustworthy and sufficient. And through that Word, He beckons us to keep laughing—not by giving us a play-by-play of the next presidential election or a detailed timeline of our children’s sanctification; no, God’s Word does not eliminate earthly uncertainties, but it illuminates heavenly realities.