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TWO PLUS TWO DOES EQUAL SOMETHING

President Johnson, who spent years in the United States Senate as Majority Leader, knew a thing or two about brokering deals, forging compromises, settling for half a loaf instead of none, etc. And in order to pull together majorities on some of the big votes back in that era, he certainly learned how to see all sides of a particular issue. In illustrating that point, LBJ loved to tell the story of a schoolteacher who was looking for employment during the depression. Way out in the hills, he finally got a job interview with the school board, plain folks in overalls and country dresses.

And it seemed like the interview went pretty well, and the board was about to hire him. But first they had to get one final question resolved. "We think we'd like to have you teach," they told him. "But there's a difference of opinion in our community about geography, and we want to know which side you're on." And then they asked him: "Do you teach that the world is round, or do you teach that the world is flat?"
And the would-be teacher, without batting an eye, said to them very confidently: "Don't worry. I can teach it either way!"

Which reminds me of some of the advertisements in the back of magazines like Christianity Today, where a well-to-do group of believers in an upscale community are looking for a new pastor. "Must be energetic," the ad says, "and a wholehearted supporter of dispensational theology, or liberation theology, or the pre-millennial view of last-day events. Salary range: $100,000 to $120,000 a year." And you can't help but wonder how many out-of-work preachers see that, and say to themselves: "For $120,000 a year, I can embrace dispensational theology, no problem at all; in fact, I can love it with all my heart and with all my soul and with all my strength and with all my might. Believe me. Just show me where to sign."

But it isn't that simple, is it? Our title for this week has been this: THE FUN OF FILIBUSTERING. And it's been rather sobering to realize that the Word of God commands us not to endlessly argue and debate what it calls "minor points" of faith. Disputable issues. Areas of unending and unresolvable disagreement. It's divisive to the Body of Christ, we're told, to spin our wheels on such questions. What's more, it's destructive to our efforts to bring others into the Christian message when they see the smoke rising from our heated discussions.

So we're not to quarrel and fight over truth. At the same time, we're not to buy into a set of doctrines just to get a paycheck, either.

The difficulty in digesting this teaching is that even well-meaning Christians never know where to draw the line. What's important? What isn't? And there are clear Bible passages that seem to teach us on both sides of the doctrinal fence.

For instance, you might well be familiar with this Old Testament lament, found in Jeremiah 17:
"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?"

In other words, our minds and hearts and our theological concepts are a mess. "Beyond cure," says the New International Version. Thank goodness, the very next verse tells us that God and God alone is qualified to search that heart, to examine that mind. It's a job we would never entrust to a neighbor or even a friend or a pastor, but the dilemma in the church is obvious. With messed-up minds, how can any of us know that we're embracing truth? Certainly we can't argue and debate with any confidence when Scripture tells us our minds and hearts are so warped and so ruined.

Ah, but what else does the Bible say? Just as clearly we're instructed to grapple with issues, to seek truth. First Thessalonians 5:21:

"Test everything. Hold on to the good." And then Paul adds: "Avoid every kind of evil" . . . based on the teachings in that Word of God.

Back in Acts chapter 17, the Bible writer Luke shares a glowing word of praise for the new Christians living in Berea. Now, the Bible doesn't say that these people argued and fought and debated, but notice what they did do:

"Now the Bereans were of more noble character than the Thessalonians, for they received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true."

Notice that they didn't have a spirit of debate or argumentation, but they did have a healthy sense — and I mean healthy in the very best way — a healthy sense of skepticism, maybe of self-doubt. They certainly weren't willing to take the words of Paul on face value. No, they dug into the scrolls of Scripture, and compared his teachings with the Bible itself.

And you know, I hope this radio ministry can be a part of the spirit of the Bereans, and that you as a listener join us in that. Friend, we're not here to debate with one another. We're not here to spin our wheels on insignificant points. And by the same token, I urge you to listen on your end, not with a desire to argue, but with a healthy dose of "prove-it-from-the-Bible." If at all possible, I hope you have your own Bible open at this very moment — unless you're going 65 miles an hour right now on the Golden State Freeway. Let's not debate each other, but let's not blindly accept the words of mere men either.
We've been in the books of First and Second Timothy all this week, and right near the end Paul shares this important insight with his young spiritual protégé:

"ALL Scripture," he writes, "is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work."

What is this telling us? Well, we've conceded that there are Bible verses which are hard to explain or understand. And we start yelling at each other right at those baffling junctures. But we are told, plainly in this passage, that those verses are important ones. They're not unnecessary; they're not unneeded. They weren't put in by mistake while God's back was turned. And so, while we ought not to endlessly debate or divide, neither do we want to get out scissors or black Magic Markers or computer delete buttons. I'm reminded of the cartoon in a recent Christian magazine where the pastor is saying to the flock: "Now, folks, verse 33 is one of the most difficult and controversial passages in the whole Bible. So let's go on to verse 34." Friend, that shouldn't be our approach. Let's stay up at the plate and continue to swing at even the hard pitches; let's just not scream at the pitcher or the umpire during the game. That's all.

In his trilogy book, Mere Christianity, which is actually made up of three smaller books, C. S. Lewis begins the second part, entitled "What Christians Believe," with an interesting preface. He admits that there are so many doctrines out there, so many churches. And he tells his readers that just because they happen to embrace the Christian faith, that doesn't mean that every other religion in the world is just flat-out wrong through and through. "All these religions," he writes, "even the queerest ones, contain at least some hint of truth." The Buddhist faith, for example, isn't just, in his words, "simply one huge mistake." That would fit in well with what we've been studying this week about not spending six straight months arguing some non-winnable point with your neighbor.
However, he then adds this second concept for our consideration:

"But, of course, being a Christian does mean thinking that where Christianity differs from other religions, Christianity is right and they are wrong."

What do you think about that? If you're a Christian, Lewis writes, then you have to face this question, for example. Jesus Christ either IS or is NOT the divine Son of God. There's not some third thing He can be. And if you embrace Christianity, then when one world religion says that Christ is simply a good Man, a Teacher of positive truths, and the Christian faith says instead, "No, Jesus Christ, born of a virgin, lives today as God, as the divine, resurrected Savior of the world," then the Christian makes a choice. This other religion — on that point — is wrong, and Christianity is right.

And really, the Bible is filled with such decisions. The Bible itself is such a decision: will you accept it as a true expression of God's will and character, or will you relegate it to a different status. Now friend, it either IS or it is NOT an inspired Book. People who accept the Bible, and people who do NOT accept it . . . are either right or wrong. And like the Bereans, it behooves all of us to study, study, study — and bathe that study in prayer that we'll make right choices regarding whether two plus two is three . . . or four . . . or five . . . or some other number. Because there can only be one right answer.

And for sure, friend, when it comes to the big issues, we need to embrace that one right answer. Here in First Timothy, Paul warns us repeatedly not to keep badgering each other on trivial points, on disputable items of business. Well, what are they? We don't always know. But right in chapter one, verse 15, Paul tells us for sure what is NOT a trivial point, a small, unneeded doctrine. Here's his personal confession:

"Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners — of whom I am the worst." "Of whom I am chief," says the King James.

Do I hear any debate on that point, friend? Suddenly it's very quiet — as well it should be.