A Word on Halloween

by Bob Setzer
As a Baptist boy growing up in the South, Halloween was one of my favorite holidays. It was the one time of year my preferred sins were sanctioned: gluttony, especially of the chocolate variety, and getting to dress up like a ghost or goblin. The latter allowed me to go public with the fact there was a dark side to my “good boy” image.

Thus, for me, Halloween has always been a fun-loving time, both for the kids, and for the adults who get to revel in the wonder of a child’s imagination and bravado. However, there are a good many Christians and churches who view Halloween as Public Enemy Number One (or at least, Number Two or Number Three). The objections, to the extent I can fathom them, seem to be twofold: (1) Halloween began as a pagan festival and therefore, is sub-Christian and (2) Halloween constitutes dabbling in the occult.

As to the first objection, it is true Halloween has its roots in ancient Roman and Celtic festivals marking the approach of a cold, dark winter. At such times, it was believed the boundary between the living and the dead thinned and ghosts might slip through. Eventually, these pagan celebrations were Christianized as “All Hallows Eve,” the evening before All Saints Day, November 1. By the late 19th century, especially in America, Halloween had essentially become a secular holiday featuring tricks and treats for the children.

But if we’re going to dismiss holidays because of their pagan origins, let’s get rid of Christmas while we’re at it. December 25 was originally the day Romans celebrated the rebirth of the sun god during the winter solstice. Thankfully, Christians turned that day into something far better: a celebration of Jesus’ birth. Personally, I like the “take something bad and turn it into something good” approach to once pagan festivities. As Luther said of hymnody, “Why should the Devil have all the good tunes?”

As to dabbling with the occult, I seriously doubt Satan--whoever or whatever one deems Satan to be--sees Halloween as a ripe opportunity for snatching a few unsuspecting souls. No, Satan prefers the stealthy approach, sneaking up on us when we least expect it. According to the New Testament, Satan is far more likely to show up disguised as “an angel of light” (2 Corinthians 11:4) than reveal his true colors as the Prince of Darkness.

Here’s my suggestion for Halloween. Turn on the porch light. Have plenty of candy on hand. Be a neighbor. Welcome and delight in the kids who show up at your door. Smile at the parents who linger behind in the shadows. Act a lot less like a finicky, self-righteous Pharisee and a lot more like a joyous, fun-loving Jesus. Make him proud. Shine his light, share his love.

Trust me: If Satan is in the area, he won’t linger long at a place like that.

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Camping on Hope

by Bob Setzer, Jr.

There is a line in the Apostles’ Creed, an early Christian confession, that says Jesus “descended into hell.” That claim is based on some fairly obscure New Testament passages, 1 Peter 3:18-20 and 4:16, being chief among them. Did Jesus preach to the “spirits” in Hades, the abode of the dead, merely to announce his triumph? Or in “proclaiming the Gospel to the dead,” was he offering those condemned the proverbial second chance?

I’ll let other argue the fine points of theology. Let’s just say in the light of the Chilean mine rescue (and near disaster), I have a vivid picture of what it means to say Jesus “descended into hell”: It means there is Someone who loves you so much, he will stop at nothing to rescue you from whatever hell hole where you have landed.

 For seventeen days, 33 Chilean miners existed in a subterranean abode of pitch blackness, meager rations, and stifling despair. At “Camp Hope” above, determined rescuers drilled probes that eventually established an umbilical cord between them and those stranded below. With that life support, the grace of God, and the miner’s own native pluck, these men survived day after excruciating day until a opening large enough to deliver a life capsule was drilled. Finally, after 69 harrowing days, the miners were lifted to safety one-by-one as the world looked on in gratitude and awe.

Now that the nightmare is past, I find myself thinking of Jesus. What did he do on those three days between Good Friday and his Easter triumph? Knowing Jesus, he didn’t twiddle his thumbs or put his feet up on some gold-gilded ottoman in heaven. No, he started digging. He started digging through the rock hard cynicism and despair of those who had written him off. He started clawing his way through the crusty defiance of the world’s disobedience, the dirt and grime of the world’s sin, and the rich, black humus of potential squandered for want of seed.

Finally, at long last, Jesus broke through. Suddenly, his light pieced hell’s darkness, his love vanquished hell’s hate, his truth shattered hell’s lies. In the depths of a brutal, barbarous abyss, Jesus shone with a radiance divine. Then, his face etched in Easter light, he announced, “I’m headed back up. Who wants to come with me back to hope, back to God, back to life?” I suspect the Devil looked helplessly on as Jesus emptied the place, ascending with a long train of newly-minted believers (Ephesians 4:8-10).

Yes, there’s Someone who loves you so much, no matter what hell hole you land in, he’s coming after you. He’s already started digging. Listen for the crumbling dirt. Watch for the light.

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Columbus Sailed the Ocean Blue

Monday is Columbus Day, the holiday that gets no respect. Columbus Day is the holiday I’m most likely to drop by the bank only to be surprised it’s closed. Columbus Day is the day I check the mailbox at day’s end and wonder what happened. Why did the junkmail kingpins decide to give me a day off?

Who has Columbus Day celebrations? When was the last time you were invited to a Columbus Day cookout? Do they have a Columbus Day parade, even in Columbus? (I googled “Columbus Day Parade” and got 268,000 results. That’s nothing in Google land. “Elvis” garnered over 41 million hits).

So how come Columbus Day gets no respect? Is it because we now know Leif Ericson and his mighty Norsemen beat the intrepid Italian to the new world by 500 years? Or because native Americans were here for thousands of years before that? Or is the lack of enthusiasm for Columbus Day, at least in the south, due to its status as a “northern” or even a “Catholic” celebration?

Who knows? But I believe Columbus rates a day all his own and not just because giving him his due spawns another three day weekend. No, Columbus deserves a day because he embodies faith wedded to courage, faith wedded to action, and that kind of faith is the fulcrum that moves the world.

Columbus believed the world was round. This idea was not unique to him. The ancient Greeks, masters of astronomy and geometry, had long ago calculated the earth was likely round. The educated classes of Columbus’ day, steeped in the classics of antiquity, knew this. Still the folk belief persisted the world was flat--it certainly looked that way--so sailing off its edge was a distinct possibility.

But instead of debating the matter from the safety of his study, Columbus set sail with his three trusty vessels, the Santa Maria, the Pinta, and the Niña. He decided to settle the matter in the world of action. And eleven weeks and over 4,000 miles later, settle it he did when he bumped into the “new world” the Bahamas.

In the Bible, the creation of God’s people, the Hebrews, begins when God tells an aged nomad, “Leave your country and your father’s house and go to a land that I will show you” (Gen. 12:1). Perhaps God had told others the same thing but they hemmed and hawed, they doubted and equivocated, and in the end, they stayed put. But “Abram went,” the Bible says with stunning simplicity, “as the Lord had told him” (Gen. 12:4).

Maybe in a world where Christians, Jews, and Muslims are so divided, we should rechristen Columbus Day, Abraham Day, since all three religions revere the Patriarch. But the importance of acting on what we believe is an essential part of what the Bible means by “faith.” Columbus knew that. Abraham knew that. And on the second Monday in October, it’s not a bad thing for the rest of us us to remember.

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Autumn's Gifts

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
I am grateful for the arrival of autumn. I can breathe again. I can snuggle against the chill again. I can hope again.

This summer was the hottest I remember. From mid-May to mid-September, stifling days of oppressive heat were the norm. With the merciless sun bearing down, trying to run, do yard work, or attempt most any outdoor activity ranged from unpleasant to impossible.

But now at last, fall has returned like a long, lost friend showing up on Facebook or knocking at the door. The sky is bluer, the air is crisper, the stars are brighter, and people are nicer.

The poets speak of the “rebirth of spring” but for me, autumn has always been the richest season. Maybe it has to do with all those years fall meant going back to school with fresh, white pages of notebook paper aching for new learning. Or maybe I love fall because as a pastor, autumn means the church is stirring back to life after the lean summer months. Soon, the world famous FBC Stewardship Banquet will be upon us (what are our resident comics cooking up this year?), the children’s Fall Festival will populate our parking lot with inflatable adventures, the harvest table of Thanksgiving will celebrate the abundance of creation, and the lighting of the first Advent candle will defy the approaching cold, grey darkness of winter.

Fall is also the season for a quick trip to the Georgia mountains to drink apple cider and see the explosion of color in the trees. It’s the time for state fairs and cotton candy and Ferris wheel rides. Fall is when the first fire is built in the hearth to knock back the evening chill and the rustic smell of smoke delights the nostrils. Fall is Friday night football, hotdogs and hot chocolate, cardigans and the fog of rising breath. Fall is when a freshly gathered pile of leaves invites would-be skydivers. Fall is when the little ones in the neighborhood dress up like clowns and ballerinas and come knocking at your door squealing, “Trick or treat!”

Yes, there’s much to love about the Fall, but it didn’t have to be this way. We could live (or rather die) on a planet like Mars where we’d turn into a popsicle in a microsecond, or be incinerated on Mercury or Venus. But by God’s grace, we inhabit a miracle planet called Earth where the changing of the seasons is a sign of God’s sustenance and care. As God promised Noah, so God promises us, “As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease” (Genesis 8:22).

Fall is but one of God’s many gracious and often unacknowledged gifts. The least we can do is take a deep breath, awaken to wonder, and whisper “Thank You!”

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You Invited Me In

by Bob Setzer
Last Thursday, September 16, Dan Riley and I gathered with a few dozen folk to dedicate the latest Macon area Habitat House. This house located in south Macon (4251 Roy Avenue) is part of a neighborhood reborn. Five years ago, residents of this neighborhood mostly kept to themselves behind locked doors. Today, they gather freely to stroll, visit, and help each other out. According to the pastor of a nearby church, the transformation of the Lynmore Estates is a miracle of biblical proportions. Today hope is radiant where despair once stalked the streets.

Approaching this neighborhood holistically has been the heart of Habitat’s strategy for restoring the neighborhood’s vitality. Seventeen Habitat houses have been built in the area toward a goal of 40, spurring civic pride along with other renovation and development. Today, Chuckie and Janelle Williams--and their children--are the proud new owners of a safe, affordable home. As partners in the local Habitat movement, our church played a small part in their triumph.

The Williams’ home is the 12th Habitat House First Baptist has built or helped to build; this particular home was built in partnership with Mercer University and Highland Hills Baptist. According to Dan, over the last several years, our church has given 30-40% of the monies donated by churches to the local Habitat chapter. In addition to the resources and labor our church invested in the Williams’ home, the Williams’ family--like all Habitat home owners--contributed “sweat equity,” helping with construction. Thus, the help our church, Habitat, and our other partners provided was not a “hand out” but a “hand up.” The Williams will pay in full for their home over the next twenty years.

This Sunday, our church will host a guest teacher and preacher, Dr. Robert Lupton, who knows a lot about reversing urban blight through holistic neighborhood development. He is the founder and director of FCS (Focused Community Strategies) Urban Ministries in south Atlanta (www.fcsministries.org). Dr. Lupton is author of Compassion, Justice, and the Christian Life:  Rethinking Ministry to the Poor, a book studied by our Global Women and several of our adult Sunday School classes. Rather than simply wax eloquent about the problems of the poor, Dr. Lupton has developed proven strategies for empowering people to climb out of poverty. He has been instrumental in revitalizing two declining, crime-ridden neighborhoods in Atlanta, beginning by moving there himself, along with his family.

During his inaugural sermon, Jesus said his ministry, his movement, would spell “good news for the poor” (Luke 4:18). As our church strives to be “the Presence of Christ” in the world, we hope to rise to this sacred calling. Sunday’s conversation with Robert Lupton, a fellow pilgrim in the way of Jesus, may yield important insights about what we are called to be and do next.

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Gospel on the Ground

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
I’ve been trying to sit out the Ground Zero Mosque controversy. This is one of those toxic issues sure to contaminate anyone who touches it.

Nonetheless, in light of the invective and hatred that has been unleashed during this controversy--rising to the level of “Burn the Koran Day”--I don’t think silence is golden. I think it is moral cowardice. So in the interest of being an equal opportunity offender, let me suggest a Bible passage for each side of this controversy to ponder.

To the Imam and his supporters, both Muslim and Christian, who believe building a Muslim center near Ground Zero is an effective way to combat American stereotyping of Muslims as terrorists, I would commend the truth of Romans 14. In this passage, as in 1 Corinthians 8 and Galatians 5:13-14, Paul argues being free to do something does not mean that is the wise or loving thing to do. Sometimes in the service of understanding and love, one’s freedom must be reined in. So yes, in this great country where freedom of religion is a birthright, you are free--within the bounds of local zoning and building codes--to plant your Muslim center wherever you like. But as a Christian pastor who is deeply grieved at the hatred being leveled your way, I would encourage you not to do so. Recognize that the noble intention of building bridges of understanding is not being served by building your center near such an emotionally charged site. Insisting on your rights in this matter will only further alienate and inflame the very people you say you want to reach.

And to those Americans who insist on painting all Muslims with the same brush--as godless extremists intent on destroying our nation--please meditate upon the Parable of the Tares and the Wheat (Matthew 13:24-30). Our Baptist forebearers often appealed to this passage in 17th and 18th century England and America when they were a religious minority regarded with hostility and suspicion. In this story, Jesus argues that our attempts to eradicate evil (or what we regard as evil) can be more destructive than the evil itself. I see this happening in the ugly slurs about Muslims (all Muslims, even those who are loyal Americans) that keep landing in my inbox and sounding on the airwaves. Since many of those spewing this hatred profess to be Christians, their antics besmirch the name and cause of Christ. I don’t believe the Lord who rebuked his disciples for wanting to rain fire on a village of nonbelievers (Luke 9:52-55) is pleased when his followers indiscriminately attack and vilify their “enemies.”

I understand why so many American are violently opposed to a mosque being built near Ground Zero and in time, I hope those wanting to build that mosque will fathom and respect that sentiment. But in the meantime, despising and attacking our Muslim neighbors is not something real Christians are free to do.

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When I say, "God"

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
On Tuesday and Thursday mornings, bright and early at 8 a.m. sharp, I teach “Introduction to the Old Testament” at Mercer university. Recently, I gave my students an assignment: “When you say ‘God,’ Who or What do you mean? Write your answer in 25 words or less.”

The answers were revealing. Several students thought of God as a philosophical or cultural idea. One wrote, “God, if not personal, is the whole sum of all ideas and morals central to the faiths that invest in him.”

Another 10 or so students thought of God as an impersonal being, someone unknown and probably unknowable, but nonetheless present as a cosmic, guiding force. A typical response: “By God I mean the Judeo-Christian and Islamic concept of an all-powerful being who is like, but not, human, and who is interested in and influences human history.”

The other half of the class gave voice to a more personal image of God as “Father,” “Friend,” “Lord,” “King,” “Savior,” or “Jesus.” One student wrote, “Our Lord, the one who helps guide us through life and gives us the power and faith to go on the journey.” Another wrote the wrenching confession, “The reality or being that saved my life and gave me a second chance, but also took two of my friends. A mysterious character.” That one weighed on my heart.

It is revealing that in a class of 30 college students in the Deep South there is no broad consensus about who or what, exactly, “God” is. Despite much wishful thinking to the contrary, many Americans do not believe in the same God, if they believe in any God at all.

So when politicians or political figures clamor for America to get “back to God,” which God do they mean? The tribal god of their political party or persuasion, who smiles benevolently on their agenda while plotting retribution on their enemies? Or the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who refuses to be confined to the genie bottle of our beliefs (Ex. 3:13-14; 20:4,7), who has a passionate concern for “widows and orphans” (James 1:27), and who implores us to pray for our enemies, rather than relish their destruction (Matt. 5:44-45). Sadly, I hear precious little about that God in our political discourse.

The back-to-God rhetoric sounded in the political arena has great mass appeal. But strip away the pious gloss and what such language usually means is: “America needs to get back to my God, my values, my beliefs, my agenda.”

If America were really to get “back to the God of Jesus,” there would be fewer smug, self-serving appeals and a lot more genuine respect, caring, and compassion. I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

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