I passed this board in the hall on my way to volunteer at the elementary school. “Take Captive [of] Every Thought” it says, with heart eyes and little emojis sprinkled around. The smiley face thought bubbles say things like, “I don’t have to act the way I feel” and “I can be worried and still choose to be in control.”
I pulled out my phone to snap a picture. My heart did a little jump, because this, my friends, is straight out of my favorite book, the Bible.
2 Corinthians 10:5
…we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.
This little gold nugget has been mined out of a powerful paragraph, so allow me to back up.
2 Corinthians 10:3-5 says For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The
weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary,
they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments
and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we
take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.
I don’t expect to see Bible verses taped to walls at school. I don’t even expect the Bible to be very welcome on a desk during Sustained Silent Reading. It doesn’t hurt my feelings; I have come to expect it. John 3:19 says that Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness more than light. The Bible has some powerful words, and you’d better think twice about reading it if you don’t want to be changed. It cannot be read and ignored or forgotten; it is living and active, sharper than any double-edged sword, dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow (Hebrews 4:12). I understand perfectly why some folks at public school don’t want Bibles in our backpacks.
But how interesting to see it on the bulletin board, even in its edited form! The world wants to take God’s word and water it down, puree to baby food consistency, but the funny thing is this: it is still God’s word. Any good saying or advice we’ve been given or tried to pass on to our children is from the Bible.
Don’t judge others. (Matthew 7:1)
Be kind. (Ephesians 4:32)
Bad company corrupts good character. (1 Corinthians 15:33)
Choose love, not hate. (Matthew 5:44)
We are all equal. (Galatians 3:28)
Don’t gossip. (Ephesians 4:29)
Pride goes before a fall. (Proverbs 16:18)
Treat others the way you want to be treated. (Matthew 7:12)
Be a peacemaker. (Romans 12:18)
People who are intelligent and worldly must very intentionally avoid the Bible. Stephen Hawking and Carl Sagan knew this. It appeals too much to conscience and the broad belief that folks are capable of good behavior. In short, the Bible makes sense. Hawking and Sagan may have made a life out of proving science a god of its own–laws of nature are, after all, non-negotiable–but they themselves were still subject to a moral code. No one would’ve even listened to their theories on the greater universe if either one of them had been a murderer or thief, because a man’s conduct is a level baseline. We fool ourselves if we think humans are the ones who made up morality and rules like “Honor your mother and father”, “do not commit adultery”, “do not murder.” No, it is written on our hearts, born of the Creator’s own image. God sits on a higher throne, and it doesn’t crumble when we (who are below Him) throw rocks at it.
A few nights ago, I sat and watched the State of the Union address on PBS. I watched it for several reasons. A) I feel like politics has become such a circus that sometimes it is beneficial to hear straight from the horse’s mouth, b) I want my kids to see what a room full of politicians looks like, and c) I feel like it is my duty as an American to bear witness. It doesn’t matter the man or lady at the top–it is a privilege to listen, to be a part of the crowd that gets to chant “U.S.A.!” (Oh, and I also wanted to watch Nancy Pelosi and Mike Pence sit next to each other for an hour and a half.)
I can’t watch things like that without tearing up a little, even if Donald Trump is president. I cry about abortion laws and border walls. I get choked up over stories of World War II rescues and criminal justice reform. It is deep in our bones: we Americans are aware of injustice. But the switch flips both ways, because I am also stirred to anger when our president (in the same fashion as his predecessors) boasts in himself, as if he is some super strength duct tape holding America together. Our president’s speech reminds me of Proverbs 17:27-28,
The one who has knowledge uses words with restraint, and whoever has understanding is even-tempered.
Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent, and discerning if they hold their tongues.
It also reminds me of me.
We are all such two-faced people, so very prone to draw sweet and salty water out of the same well. Am I not just as quick as Trump to jump to conclusions or spout anger and opinions? We aren’t to examine the splinter in someone else’s eye without first removing the plank in our own eye (Matthew 7:3-5), yet here I am, a veritable Pinnocchio, wood shavings piling up around my feet. On my most altruistic days I only slightly care about anyone but myself. This is evidenced by nice brick house, the refrigerator holding a bumper crop of leftovers, a subscription to Netflix, my cozy position under a blanket on the couch. The thermostat is set at a comfortable 70 degrees and my bill is being automatically withdrawn from my bank account. My biggest concern is a slight head cold, and I have three brands of decongestant sitting on my kitchen counter. Let’s face it: I don’t really care who is in or out of prison or who is on what side of any so-called wall. It doesn’t affect me until someone picks a fight and I’m bored enough to engage.
Carl Sagan is right to paint us as pitiful wanderers on a pale blue dot in a vast universe. We are so small and finite. He writes,
“In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.”
Sagan recognized it, too, that we need to be saved from ourselves. As insignificant as we might appear from outer space, the problems that come with living on this dot are enormous, big enough to swallow us. Maybe this is because the battle comes from within us, our deep desire for things to be fair as long as it doesn’t interrupt our comfort and Netflix habits. We actually think we can poke our fingers in our ears and pretend sin isn’t devastating the human race. Sagan goes on,
“There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”
He beckons as a scientist, but his words are curiously Christian. Be kind to one another. We need a savior, someone bigger than ourselves, who can save us from ourselves. And here is the force, the overwhelming, crushing power in Christ:
For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The
weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world.
We who find Christ find forgiveness, which sprouts love. Love is, at its core, self-denial, which bears the fruit of kindness and joy. We can remain even-tempered and we can hold our tongue because God doesn’t change. We can share our bounty, we can sacrifice comfort for the sake of others. We can focus on spiritual growth in our own lives while loving others right where they are. We can fear God, respect men, and tell the truth, because
The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary,
they have divine power to demolish strongholds.
This is how we live in a world as meek, people-loving Christ followers. It’s how we show up day after day in secular workplaces. It’s how we take steps away from gorging ourselves on the things of this world. It’s how moms and dads put down their cell phones and engage with their kids. It is how the addict walks away from addiction. It is why we speak boldly of our hope in Christ.
We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we
take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.
Gravity holds us to this pale blue dot. This is His law, as much as His moral code is written on our hearts. His power to set us free from sin is unequivocal. His love for us is bigger than the whole universe. He can speak to us by the language of incomprehensible stars and planets, the lips of an agnostic scientist. We can only doubt His goodness as much as we can comprehend our own smallness spinning around the sun on a little blue ball. But He is writing valentines, little love letters amidst the haze of our self-absorption. It’s evident in the notes he is sneaking us in the carpeted hallways of the local elementary school, in the baby food wisdom of the world. We just have to open our eyes to see it.
