P.O. Box 53055    
Los Angeles, CA 90053   

BILL COSBY BEATITUDES

The battle’s over – and you lost. You’re looking back at it now, and wondering why. What went wrong? (I’m talking here about a battle against the devil, so no actual bullets were fired . . . although you may feel like you’re bleeding a bit.) But what are the reasons why we get beat? What forces squeeze a pathetic little “yes, okay” out of us instead of the resolute, confident, booming “NO!” we wish we could muster up?

We’ve spent the bulk of this series asserting the biblical reality that in our own strength, we can’t beat Satan. He’s mightier than we are, more experienced, more determined, better armed, everything. Unless the Lord is invited to intervene and rescue us, we’re going to lose.

Today I’d like to add another layer of personal observation to the mix, though – and remember that we’re thinking always of that Friday morning in Jerusalem where a well-meaning but vacillating potentate named Pontius Pilate got beat by Lucifer’s legions. “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” These four words, describing the mob, tell it all: “And their shouts prevailed.”

I’m sure you remember the devastating day back in 1999 when two young killers named Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold executed some of their fellow students at Columbine High. At the time, it was reported that a young Christian named Cassie Bernall, moments away from death, confessed her faith in God. A bestseller by her mom, Misty, carried the title She Said Yes, and inspired literally thousands of Christian kids to be more resolute in their faith. Later news reports and statements from terrified students who were cowering behind desks there at the library suggested that it was perhaps Valeen Schnurr who was asked that question: “Do you believe in God?” Misty herself acknowledges that in the horror of that April bloodbath, the truth may never be fully known. What seems clear is that these two young believers were facing raw, blanching fear. You could die for what you believed, and young Cassie certainly did so.

So, yes, sometimes we face physical or emotional danger, and we fall to temptation because we’re just plain afraid. The roar of the mob can be a telling weapon.

How about this one: fear of being in the minority? Have you ever felt all alone in your convictions, and it’s just plain easier to say yes, to go along? Think of the classic black-and-white story, Twelve Angry Men, where a jury is filing into the deliberation room. It’s a hot, muggy day; the murder case they’ve been handed seems open-and-shut. A young minority kid stabbed and killed his dad. Everybody knows he did it; “those people” always do. You can’t trust a word they say . . . bunch of liars on the stand. And before the bailiff even shows these 12 guys to their chairs, 11 are ready to convict and plug in the electric chair right now. Literally. The film could be done in five minutes, except for Juror #8. A quiet, soft-spoken man named Davis says, “Wait a minute. I want to talk about this case.” When the others jump down his throat, he stands his ground. “I insist,” he says. “Let’s go over the facts. What if it was one of us facing the chair?” It’s a great, cinematic triumph, but how many of us would be willing to stand up to eleven perspiring enemies? How many of us would be willing to be a Shadrach, Meshach, or Abednego – three against the entire kingdom and a fiery furnace? Daniel by himself against the king’s court and the king’s lions? Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane against the mob from the temple and Judas Iscariot?

Here’s yet another reason why we sometimes run up the white flag too quickly. We decide that the war isn’t worth the bother. This isn’t such a big deal, is it? Why fight it?

Comedian Bill Cosby has a cute routine where, when he had a house full of screaming kids to raise, he was coping with the youngest one just latching onto things that weren’t hers. She’d grab some sibling’s toys and begin marching through the house, peeling the paint off the walls and shredding everybody’s eardrums with the triumphant claim: “Mine! Mine! Mine!” After a while those strident shrieks would just pierce to the marrow, causing Cosby to lose his hair along with his sanity. But instead of punishing the screamer, he would holler at the kid who was complaining about the theft: “Just let her have it! Can’t you see the ruckus it’s causing? It’s not worth it.” Then, as if to justify his obviously stupid decision, he would shout down the stairs: “She’s got things of mine too, you know!” And then conclude helplessly to his comedy-club audience: “See, parents don’t care about justice. All we want is QUIET!”

Well, you know, that cave-in is kind of fun, but what about when we slide into the same compromise? You got fifteen hundred bucks in royalties from a little deal, and if you don’t type that into your TurboTax software, no one’s going to know. It’s not worth standing up and doing the right thing. You’re on a business trip and a free-and-easy, no-strings-attached sexual adventure offers itself out of the blue. You could fight it, but what’s the huge deal? So you quietly say, “Mine! Mine! Mine!” and help yourself to a slice of sin.

In the New Testament, a husband and wife named Ananias and Sapphira had a real estate deal come along, and they made more money from it than they thought they would. (Alan Greenspan must have been chairman of the Fed then too, because property values were appreciating in the Jerusalem market that year.) And even though they’d promised this particular parcel to the Church, Lucifer told them it was no big deal. Keep back half and stick it under the mattress. They fell to the temptation, and it was a painful moment when the IRS came calling, in the form of the apostle Peter.

Here’s yet another one: we sometimes surrender because we’re wanting to protect the good things we’ve got. For Pontius Pilate it was his position as governor. It was chilling to hear the mob shout at him: “If you let this Man go, you are no friend of Caesar.”

In the recent Grisham thriller, The King of Torts, a young lawyer named Clay Carter is working in Washington, D.C. for peanuts at the O.P.D. He can barely pay the rent on his meager paycheck as a public defender. Suddenly he stumbles into a lucrative deal that makes him a multimillionaire. He’s now suing pharmaceutical companies on behalf of thousands of clients – with the law offices of Clay Carter III retaining a third, of course. He’s got mansions in the South Pacific, yachts in the Caribbean, a Gulfstream G-4 private jet with two pilots on retainer. And late in the story, when it’s obvious that he’s in an immoral situation – ripping off clients, selling short on insider tips, hurting innocent people – the temptation is to keep on the same gilded path. Why? To protect what he’s got. To hold on to the condo and the caviar and the curvaceous cutie super-model from Russia.

And you know, sometimes we give in because sinful habits have just plain got us imprisoned. We’ve said a feeble yes so many times, that other word is just gone from our mental dictionary. An addiction like porn or gambling or booze can literally have your brain’s synapses and response paths so rewired that resistance is almost physically impossible.

Now, friend, I say with all sympathy and understanding: this is all of us. I have fallen in these ways, and so have you. But let’s go back through them quickly and encourage each other with the fact that Jesus provides an answer in every case.

Are we afraid of physical danger? That can be very real. But Cassie Bernall and Valeen Schnurr, both of them students who trusted in God, could know that there is a paradise waiting beyond the current moment of raw danger. A bullet may strike a teenager down for a short while, but no gunman in the world can rob you of your eternity in God’s kingdom.

How about fear of being in the minority? “I will never leave you,” Jesus promises, “or forsake you.” Plus, any Christian anywhere on this planet is part of the Body of Christ, a living, vital part of a wonderful, global family that spans all continents, time zones, and times. If you’re that lone juror, standing up for what’s righteous and true, friend, you are NOT alone. God promises us His presence and His power in the darkest of moments.

How about thinking that some sin is just not worth fighting against? It’s easy to go there; I know. But our sins are what caused the saga of Calvary, aren’t they? The big ones and the so-called small ones too.

And I can tell you this with the entire weight of God’s Holy Bible behind me: if you want to seek or preserve a good life, shall we say, an “abundant life,” (John 10:10) then a connection with Christ is the best – and really, the only – way to guarantee that.

The next time you or I face that shouting mob of temptation – let’s just stop. Let’s picture Jesus standing in the scene. Holding out His hand. Offering us His power. Reminding us of His love, and also His kingdom.

That’s worth fighting for.