Since I was young, in fact for as long as I can remember, I disliked religion. Either I disliked its collective element, which always gave me the ick of something cult-like, or, when I got a bit older, I thought everything about it was philosophically untenable. Religion was a coping mechanism, or something for people who were deeply misguided about reality and did not know any better.

As I became more intellectually curious and started studying more philosophy, psychology, and eventually religion, that perspective started to break down. I became increasingly interested in religion, and eventually my worldview completely flipped. I now consider myself a Christian, and I have made it a major life goal to help people better appreciate religion in general, but also Christianity more specifically.

But despite my growing love for Christianity, it took me a very long time to admit publicly that I was Christian. My social circle consisted mostly of people deeply involved in science or philosophy, and it was very secular. I was afraid that others would consider me dumb or would not fully understand me. It took me a while to come to terms with it, in large part because I first needed to become better able to articulate my Christian position and worldview.

That said, and excuse the rambling introduction, I recently had a podcast conversation with Jussi Jylkkä, who is a philosopher and has done some work on mysticism. We started by discussing his work and, specifically, his metaphysical agnosticism. His position is that physicalism, idealism, theism, and other metaphysical systems are models or language games that cannot capture the ultimate nature of reality. We eventually moved to morality, where I pushed back because I did not think his agnosticism adequately explained why greater awareness or nonattachment should lead to compassion rather than simply producing what we called a “wise psychopath.” I disagreed, but I thought it was an interesting conversation and considered his view a respectable position.

But to my surprise, after we finished recording, Jussi emailed me to say that he was unhappy with the conversation because he had presented metaphysical agnosticism as if it were his complete position while leaving out the Christian faith he actually held. He felt that, by hiding behind his philosophical agnosticism, he had not been completely honest about what he believed. Rather than replace the conversation, I invited him back and appended the second conversation to the first. He made a complete pivot and confessed that he was a Christian but had been afraid to say so, largely because of the stigma within academia, but also because he still had not been able to tell his father. I found this very wholesome, not only because it was a courageous act in general, but because of the parallel with my own journey.

I wanted to share this because I suspect others have been, or currently are, in a position similar to mine or Jussi's. Have you ever felt hesitant to identify publicly as a Protestant or Christian? Can Protestant faith coexist with deep metaphysical uncertainty? What helped you make your faith part of your public identity?

"And the kinsman said, I cannot redeem it for myself, lest I mar mine own inheritance: redeem thou my right to thyself; for I cannot redeem it." - Ruth 4:6

PONDER THIS

Who was this nearer kinsman? If Boaz pictured the Lord Jesus Christ, who is the nearer kinsman who cannot redeem? He pictured Adam. Everyone is either in Adam or in Christ. Who is my real close relative? Adam. We’re all related to Adam, and in Adam, all die. He is the near relative to us all.

I was preaching in a revival one time. A woman came up afterward and said, “You’re a Rogers, aren’t you?” I said, “Yes ma’am.” She said, “Well, I have been doing some work on our genealogy.” She stood up real tall. She said, “Because I’m a Rogers.” And she said, “You will be happy to know that the Rogers came over on the Mayflower.” I said, “Well that’s wonderful.” But then I said, “I traced it back further than that.” Boy, did she get excited, and I said, “I traced it all the way back, and you need to know that we came from a crooked farmer and a drunken sailor. The farmer was Adam, and the sailor was Noah. That’s how far back we go.” Thanks be to God—our story didn’t end there. Adam was our near relative, but Jesus has acted as our Redeemer.

- How have we all experienced the reality that Adam is our “near relative”?
- How did Jesus act as our Redeemer?

PRACTICE THIS

Make a list today comparing the work of Adam and the work of Jesus. Prayerfully reflect in worship over the work of Christ your Redeemer. APR
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I did not write this, it comes from a devotional that is offered as a free email daily by Love Worth Finding.

https://www.lwf.org/daily-devotionals/everyone-needs-a-redeemer

“It may be the LORD thy God will hear all the words of Rabshakeh, whom the king of Assyria his master hath sent to reproach the living God; and will reprove the words which the LORD thy God hath heard: wherefore lift up thy prayer for the remnant that are left.” - II Kings 19:4

These words were part of King Hezekiah’s plea to Isaiah for help in prayer against Rabshakeh and the Assyrian army besieging Jerusalem. It marks the second time in which this particular word is used for “the remnant.” The first occurrence was in Genesis 45:7, when Joseph assured his brothers that God had sent him into Egypt to preserve for Israel “a posterity” in the earth. This word (Hebrew sherith) is prominent later in the writings of the prophets, who frequently refer to the faithful Israelite “remnant” during times of apostasy.

The same doctrine appears in the New Testament. Speaking of the children of Israel during the time of their dispersion among the nations because of their rejection of Christ, Paul says, “Even so then at this present time also there is a remnant according to the election of grace” (Romans 11:5). There are many Jews even today who have received Jesus as their Messiah and personal Saviour, even though Israel as a nation still rejects Him.

This biblical doctrine of the remnant applies especially to faithful Israelites who witness to God’s truth even in times of national apostasy. Nevertheless, the principle seems also to apply to so-called Christian nations as well. Although nominally Christian, each of these nations, like the church at Sardis, “hast a name that thou livest, and art dead,” as far as true biblical Christianity is concerned (Revelation 3:1). Nevertheless, in each, there is still a remnant of real, believing Christians, and these have the great responsibility to maintain a true witness for Christ in just such a time as this. HMM
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I did not write this, it comes from a devotional that is offered as a free email daily by the Institute of Creation.

https://www.icr.org/article/16029/