P.O. Box 53055    
Los Angeles, CA 90053   

GREAT LEADERS WHO LIE AND KILL

There was a powerful and personal testimony that recently appeared in some major news magazines here in the United States. A young man who knew the person under discussion had this to say:

"So-and-so was an incredible individualist, charismatic, well read. He was the kind of person who could [talk to you] for hours and be witty and brilliant."

Another close friend added the perspective that this amazing man had "a poetic sensibility." And she added to the mystery: "Sometimes it was kind of dark and sad." And then a third acquaintance thought of something else:

"The truth is, [he] was good. He had a strong . . . personality. He could convince [you] of anything."

Well, we're not a live radio broadcast, or I'd throw open the phone lines and let you guess who this is referring to. He sounds like a charismatic leader: perhaps a successful politician, or a religious figure with a good following. In fact, you could conceivably make the case that this is Peter, James, and John describing their relationship with Jesus. He too was "an incredible individualist, charismatic, an eloquent speaker, brilliant. A strong personality." Etc. Etc. Jesus Christ, the great Teacher from Nazareth, who swayed huge crowds with His powerful words, was all of these things and more.

Well, friend, the mystery person isn't able to step forward from the shadows. We borrowed these descriptions out of recent issues of TIME magazine, where a young high school kid named Brooks Brown was telling reporters about his friend, Eric David Harris, who masterminded the tragic shootings at Columbine High School 2 Years ago back in April. And then died himself in a final blaze of bullets.

But in that Trench Coat Mafia subculture, he had people who would follow him. Dylan Klebold, for one. And there were others who admired this young man, with his articulate anger, his fiery personality. He had thoughts that could move others; he had leadership qualities, an ability to pull people into his sphere of influence. TIME Magazine describes how he and young Mr. Klebold were arrested for stealing electronic equipment out of a car. And they showed up there at Jefferson County court and basically charmed the socks off of John DeVita, the magistrate. "Yes, Your Honor. No, Your Honor." They were like "latter-day Eddie Haskells," one observer said later, remembering the sweet-talking, ingratiating bad boy on the old Leave It To Beaver show who knew how to put on a good front for Mrs. Cleaver.

What do we make of a case like this, where good and evil reside in the same person? Where a young man is both a leader . . . and a killer?

It was wrenching to read how young, beautiful Rachel Scott, who wanted to be a missionary someday, was going to perform a spiritual kind of "mime dance" at a talent show. She was playing the part of Simon of Cyrene, who carried Jesus' cross down the Via Dolorosa — a beautiful, haunting performance for this born-again Christian girl. Halfway through the performance, tragedy struck when the music suddenly died. But the guy in the sound booth, obviously a friend who admired her, hustled frantically, hooked up a second tape deck, quickly transferred the cassette over to it, and basically saved the performance for Rachel. That young man's name? Dylan Klebold. Just a year later, he killed her on that dark Tuesday. Good, and then bad. Helpful, kind — and then senseless butchery with an illegal TEC-9 pistol.

Well, friend, there's an ironic mystery among us these 2 years and four months later, and it's this. There are millions today right within the Christian church who describe the founder of their religion, Jesus Christ, in much the same terms as the ones we just read. "Jesus was an incredible individual," they say. "He was charismatic. He was an eloquent preacher. That whole sermon of his, running from Matthew 5-7 . . . that is tremendous stuff." They point to the Sermon on the Mount, the Golden Rule, "turn the other cheek." They read and appreciate the long, memorable sermon that begins in John chapter 14 and goes clear over the end of 17, right before His arrest in Gethsemane. And, much as this family in Littleton described Eric Harris, these people notice that Jesus, too, had a "poetic sensibility," kind of dark and sad.

And this kind of praise and adulation goes on — but where does it stop? It stops just short of confessing or even considering that Jesus Christ was more than a good Teacher. It stops just short of Him being the Son of God, the Christ, the Messiah. He becomes for them the tragic figure in Jesus Christ Superstar; in fact, that's exactly where they leave Him: with "superstar" status. But secular superstar status. Dangerous radical. Dynamic leader. Dead. Closing credits, fade to black.

But of course, what happened in Columbine High School turns our thinking around. Because you can't say about someone, "He was a great leader. He was dynamic. He was worth listening to, worth following. And, oh, by the way, he shot and killed 13 people." That simply doesn't work.

And you might give this rejoinder: "But no, Jesus the good Teacher was a man of peace! He espoused meekness and turn-the-other-cheek his whole life! He didn't kill anyone; they killed him!" True, but let me share with you one of the most powerful arguments I've ever encountered against this idea that Jesus was just a great Teacher. We've quoted this paragraph from C. S. Lewis' Mere Christianity before, and every believer really ought to memorize it.

"I am trying . . . to prevent anyone," he writes, "saying the really foolish thing that people often say about [Jesus]. ‘I'm ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don't accept His claim to be God.' That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell."

And you know, friend, he's absolutely right. Because in addition to the Sermon on the Mount and "love your neighbor" and all the Beatitudes, Jesus Christ said — over and over — "I am the Son of God." "I and My Father are One." "God in heaven sent Me." "I came to die for all of your sins." And as we've studied since Monday, He was constantly telling people: "I forgive all your sins." Which is essentially something that is only said by idiots and Nazi despots . . . OR by someone who IS God.

So the point is this: it's simply not possible for Jesus to be just a great teacher. If you had a brilliant Ph.D. professor there at Harvard who delivered spellbinding, logical, powerful, life-changing lectures . . . but every third or fourth day, just happened to slip this in too: "By the way, I happen to be the Son of God; it just so happens that I'm your Messiah," that brilliant professor wouldn't be at Harvard very much longer. He'd be lecturing to the fence posts at the Funny Farm.

Here's the rest of Lewis' thought on this:

"You can shut [Jesus] up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to."

I've mentioned already a recent book called Why Christianity Must Change Or Die. And I must tell you that I hope Christianity never changes in the directions suggested by this author, but he actually writes with great admiration for this teacher, this man he calls Jesus. "The Historical Jesus." In a chapter entitled "What Think Ye of Christ?", he observes with gratitude how this loving man was so powerfully able to "connect" with other people. It was almost otherworldly how this teacher named Jesus could be "totally present" for his friends. He gave himself so completely, writes this theologian, to the rich young ruler, to the woman taken in adultery, even in his talking with Pontius Pilate. What a giving man, he writes. What a unique individual. And he suggests that it is greatly worth our time to think about his teachings, his unique life, his incredible ability to love and preach unity.

And then he even refers to the thief on the cross. Jesus was even kind to this thief! What a good man he must have been, to say kind words to the thief.

And I hit the pause button right there and say, "Wait a minute! What were Jesus' ‘kind words' to that thief?" He promised him that he was going to be saved! He promised him eternal life! He let that thief call Him the Son of God, and then assured this dying criminal that He, Jesus Christ, had the power to guarantee him an eternal home in His eternal kingdom.

Now, let me ask you: do we admire a man whose last act on earth is to lie to someone that way? To promise an eternal life and a mansion in heaven and the forgiveness of sins — all things no mortal man, no so-called great teacher, can possibly deliver when he himself is nailed to a cross too? I don't admire a man like that. I might pity him, and decide that Pontius Pilate is guilty of executing a man who's not guilty by reason of insanity. But the Christian faith, and certainly my faith, should not be focused on a man who incessantly lied and/or was pathetically delusional his entire adult life.

So that's our title: MORE THAN A GOOD TEACHER. Let me tell you: in my book, friend, and especially on that cross, He was way more.