Flatlander Faith

Apologetics from an Anabaptist perspective

Tag Archives: oppression

What’s wrong with the world?

The spirit of the world tells us: “You’re OK. You’re doing the best you can under the circumstances. Your problems are caused by the people around you, your family, your co-workers, your teachers, the government. You need to do what is right for you and try to get those others to change.”

There in a nutshell is the source of most of the world’s problems. The spirit of the world, really a host of demonic spirits, pretends to comfort us by telling us to blame others for our problems. That leads to mistrust, conflict, hatred and makes the problems insoluble. Every supposed solution just creates new conflict, new trouble. Every revolutionary, when he overthrows the oppressor, becomes the new oppressor.

How can one escape from this hopeless cycle? The answer is in the Bible. That’s not a popular book anymore, especially since many people who call themselves Bible-believing Christians are actually thinking and acting according to the spirit of the world. But the Bible has a radical solution, one that actually works. It does not tell us to go out and fight against all that is wrong in the world around us, but to fight against what is wrong within us.

The Spirit of Truth tells us: “Are you having trouble? Go look in the mirror, there you will see the source of all your troubles. I can’t help you change the things others do, but if you ask me I can change you.”

“Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is of God; that we might know the things that are freely given to us of God.” (1 Corinthians 2:12 ).“Even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.” (John 14:17 ).“When he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth.” (John 16:13 ).“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (John 8:32 ).

How does admitting that I am the problem set me free? Let me count the ways:

  1. God has forgiven me for all my past sins.
  2. I find that God does not demand flawless performance, all He asks is that I follow where He leads, one step at a time.
  3. I can stop batting my head against the wall, trying to change the world.
  4. I can appreciate the good that other people do without feeling like a hypocrite.
  5. When I cease to be the source of friction in my dealings with other people I find that they are far nicer people than I had ever imagined.

WHY?

The war to end all wars didn’t end all wars.

When a revolution succeeds in overthrowing the oppressors, the revolutionaries then become the oppressors.

What is wrong with the world?

“The answer to the question, ‘What is Wrong’ is, or should be, ‘I am wrong.’ Until a man can give that answer, his idealism is only a hobby.” (G. K. Chesterton)

Let the oppressed go free

 How can any nation pretend to fast or worship God at all, or dare to profess that they believe in the existence of such a Being, while they carry on the slave trade, and traffic in the souls, blood, and bodies, of men! O ye most flagitious of knaves, and worst of hypocrites, cast off at once the mask of religion; and deepen not your endless perdition by professing the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, while ye continue in this traffic!

–Adam Clarke’s commentary on Isaiah 58:6

The conversion of Josiah Henson

I was born, June 15, 1789, in Charles County, Maryland, on a farm belonging to Mr. Francis N., about a mile from Port Tobacco. My mother was the property of Dr. Josiah McP., but was hired by Mr. N., to whom my father belonged. The only incident I can remember, which occurred while my mother continued on N.’s farm, was the appearance of my father one day, with his head bloody and his back lacerated.  Though it was all a mystery to me at the age of three or four years, it was explained at a later period that he had been suffering the cruel penalty of the Maryland law for beating a white man. His right ear had been cut off close to his head, and he had received a hundred lashes on his back. He had beaten the overseer for a brutal assault on my mother, and this was his punishment.

When I was 18 an incident occurred that deserves especial notice. There was at Georgetown, a few miles from R’s plantation, a baker who was an upright, benevolent, Christian man. He was noted for his detestation of slavery, and his avoidance of the employment of slave labour in his business.  His reputation was high, not only for this almost singular abstinence from what no one about him thought wrong, but for his general probity and excellence.

This man occasionally served as a minister of the Gospel. One Sunday when he was to officiate at a place three or four miles distant, my mother persuaded me to ask master’s leave to go and hear him; and although such permission was not given freely or often, yet his favour to me was shown for this once by allowing me to go, without much scolding, but not without a pretty distinct intimation of what would befall me, if I did not return immediately after the close of the service.

I hurried off, pleased with the opportunity, but without any definite expectations of benefit; for up to this period of my life I had never heard a sermon, nor any conversation whatever, upon religious topics, except what had been impressed upon me by my mother, of the responsibility of all to a Supreme Being. When I arrived at the place of meeting, the speaker was just beginning his discourse, from the text, Hebrews 2:9; “That he, by the grace of God, should taste of death for every man.” This was the first text of the Bible to which I had ever listened, knowing it to be such. I have never forgotten it, and scarce a day has passed since, in which I have not recalled it, and the sermon that was preached from it. The divine character of Jesus Christ, his life and teachings, his sacrifice of himself for others, his death and resurrection were all alluded to, and some of the points were dwelt upon with great power,–great, at least, to me, who heard of these things for the first time in my life.

I was wonderfully impressed, too, with the use which the preacher made of the last words of the text, “for every man.” He said the death of Christ was not designed for the benefit of a select few only, but for the salvation of the world, for the bond as well as the free; and he dwelt on the glad tidings of the Gospel to the poor, the persecuted, and the distressed, its deliverance to the captive, and the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free, till my heart burned within me, and I was in a state of the greatest excitement at the thought that such a being as Jesus Christ had been described should have died for me–for me among the rest, a poor, despised, abused slave, who was thought by his fellow creatures fit for nothing but unrequited toil and ignorance, for mental and bodily degradation.

I immediately determined to find out something more about “Christ and him crucified;” and revolving the things which I had heard in my mind as I went home, I became so excited that I turned aside from the road into the woods, and prayed to God for light and for aid with an earnestness, which, however unenlightened, was at least sincere and heartfelt; and which the subsequent course of my life has led me to imagine might not have been unacceptable to Him who heareth prayer. At all events, I date my conversion, and my awakening to a new life from this day, so memorable to me.

I used every means and opportunity of inquiry into religious matters; and so deep was my conviction of their superior importance to every thing else, so clear my perception of my own faults, and so undoubting my observation of the darkness and sin that surrounded me, that I could not help talking much on these subjects with those about me; and it was not long before I began to pray with them, and exhort them, and to impart to the poor slaves those little glimmerings of light from another world, which had reached my own eye. In a few years I became quite an esteemed preacher among them, and I will not believe it is vanity which leads me to think I was useful to some.

-an excerpt from The Life of Josiah Henson, Formerly a Slave, Now an Inhabitant of Canada, first published in 1849.

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