JU RTAVI ZAHCHARIIAS NINTERNKATIONAIL NMINISTRGIES · John Bunyan’s abiding allegory, The Pilgrim’s Progress, is a classic story of the Christian journey—and in it, he personifies

JUSTTHINKINGTHE MAGAZINE OF RAVI ZACHARIAS INTERNATIONAL MINISTRIES

VOLUME 26.2 I WWW.RZIM.ORG

+A HELPFULGUIDEPAGE 04

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Just Thinking is a teaching

resource of Ravi Zacharias

International Ministries and

exists to engender thoughtful

engagement with apologetics,

Scripture, and the whole of life.

Danielle DuRant

Editor

Ravi Zacharias International Ministries

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HELPING THE THINKER BELIEVE.

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TABLE of CONTENTSVOLUME 26.2

A Note from the EditorA Full-Color Map

03

A Helpful GuideJill Carattini looks at John Bunyan’s ThePilgrim’s Progress,an enduring story of the Christian journeyand the role of hope.

04You Are with MeNathan Betts describeshow a conversation withhis frightened young sonprompted him to considerhow he might respond in asituation that did not leadwhere he expected.

17

All Things NewA detour through Death Valleythat began as an excitingadventure soon lost its allure,says Jo Vitale, when she and her husband reached an unexpected dead-end.

20

The Face of DarknessStuart McAllister reflectson crossing the border in Communist-ruledCzechoslovakia and the circumstances that causedhim to wonder where God was leading him.

06

Upon ArrivalMusing on John Bunyan’sThe Piligrim’s Progress,Ravi Zacharias imploresus to hold fast to God’s guid-ance on our own journey.22

PASSIONATE FOR THE ARTSStill Point is a gallery that focuses on four different areas as we seek to establisha unique reputation of thoughtful excellence: exhibits engaging local artists,international artists, theology and culture, and historical import such asGeorges Rouault (spring of 2018) and Marc Chagall (spring of 2019).

STILLPOINT

ARTS

LES DISCIPLES, COLOR AQUATINT, 1936.

GEORGES ROUAULT (1871-1958)

FROM THE BOWDEN COLLECTION’S

“SEEING CHRIST IN THE DARKNESS”

ON EXHIBIT AT STILL POINT

MARCH THROUGH JULY 2018

MY BROTHER AND I have always loved maps. Yes, the navigational coordinates of aGPS can provide a point-by-point recommended route, but a map—especially thefull-color paper ones still found at state welcome centers across the United States—offers a sweeping picture of the landscape and invites you to chart the course.

I am certain our affinity for maps and “road trips” came from our father, wholoved geography and pored over rail lines, rivers, and destinations for the simplepleasure of discovery. The euphonious names “Lake Louise,” “Boothbay,” “Kalispell,”and even nearby “Travelers Rest” captured his imagination long before we visited themas a family.

We arrived at each destination by car because my father wanted to see the entirecountry town by town. Had my father been younger and not had a family when PeterJenkins’s A Walk Across America was first released, my brother believes he would have madea similar journey. And so, with a Rand McNally Road Atlas in the glove compartment,we visited every state in the continental US except for Alaska as well as most of Canada.

I regret I didn’t keep a journal then but I have conversations and snapshots inmy mind (and photos somewhere) of sunflowers in Saskatoon and snow in Denver—where my brother and I were wearing shorts because it was June. Cognitive science callssuch memories “episodic”: recalling certain events and experiences along with the emotions,place, and time associated with them. Do you recollect a graduation, an elementary schoolteacher, or a fond destination and the feelings this memory evokes? Episodic and“semantic memory” (recalling facts and common knowledge) constitute part of ourlong-term memory known as “declarative memory,” which is what it sounds like: theability to consciously recall and verbalize certain facts and events from the past.

“Seeing,” writes Annie Dillard in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, “is of course very mucha matter of verbalization. Unless I call my attention to what passes before my eyes, I simply won’t see it. It is, as [John] Ruskin says, ‘not merely unnoticed, but in thefull, clear sense of the word, unseen.’” Dillard continues, “If Tinker Mountain erupted,I’d be likely to notice. But if I want to notice the lesser cataclysms of valley life, Ihave to maintain in my head a running description of the present.”

The Scriptures suggest we need not only “a running description of the present”but also of the past and future if we are to navigate the terrain before us as faithfulfollowers of God. When we pore over the sweeping landscape of his Word, we findmore than landmarks for our journey. Indeed, we meet a God who invites his peopleto know Him intimately. His indwelling Spirit comforts us and gives us eyes to seeand ears to hear (Matthew 13:16) that “This is the way, walk in it” (Isaiah 30:21). Welearn to trust his character and his ways because Jesus traverses the road with us,minute by minute and town by town, both before us and beside us.

As the articles in this issue suggest, God beckons us to notice his faithfulness whenseemingly innocently “The fog comes on little cat feet,” in the words of Carl Sandburg,and we lose our way. And He tests our memory of his steadfast goodness and love whenthe road turns unexpectedly into the valley of the shadow of death or imprisonment.

“‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declaresthe Lord” (Isaiah 55:8). Yet only a few verses later, God promises a procession ofrejoicing will guide our way: “You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; themountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field willclap their hands” (verse 12). How wonderfully rich is the full-color map of our God!

A Full-Color Map

Danielle DuRantEditor

JUST THINKING • VOLUME 26.2 [3]

[4] JUST THINKING • RAVI ZACHARIAS INTERNATIONAL MINISTRIES

John Bunyan’s abiding allegory, ThePilgrim’s Progress, is a classic story of the Christian journey—and in it,he personifies hope in two ways.

“Hopeful” is the traveling companion of “Christian,” the story’s protagonist,along the winding journey toward theCelestial City. Hopeful was born in thetown of Vanity and grew up with greatexpectations of the things of the fair;honor and title, ownership and ease were his great hopes. But he had sufferedbitter disappointment in these pursuitsand found only shipwrecks of his ownoptimism. In this valley of emptiness,Hopeful was able to recognize the fulland solid quest of Christian. And thus,Hopeful’s drastic conversion of hopebegins with pilgrimage and community.

The other character marked byhope in Bunyan’s tale is encountered nearthe river one must cross on foot in orderto enter the Celestial City. “Vain-Hope” is a ferryman who offers to ferry travelersacross the River of Death so that they

A HelpfulGuideBy Jill Carattini


don’t have to cross on their own. Yet asone man discovers, it is a promise thatgets him across the river but destroys allhope of staying there. In the end, Vain-Hope leads to a deadly end.

With these two lucid pictures,Bunyan divides hope into two possiblysimple but perhaps wise categories: thelife-giving and the destructive.Considering all the ways in which we usethe word, it seems easily an oversimplifi-cation. Indeed, “hope” is a word I haveoften wished we had several differentoptions from which to choose—muchlike “love” in Greek, which puts at ourdisposal four completely different pic-tures. Regrettably, we use the same wordfor hope whether we are hoping for lighttraffic or longing for a cure. We speak ofhope with a sense of whimsical curiosity(like Herod who had heard of Jesus andhoped to see him perform a miracle) and with a sense of dread or uncertainty(like those who hope cancer will notstrike anyone near them). We proposehope with a sense of joy (like the apostlePaul who longed that he should see theThessalonians again) as well as with othermotivators (like the teachers of the lawwho sincerely hoped they would catchJesus in something he said).

As such, Bunyan’s two picturesactually offer some clarification. Namely:hope is not a static thing. Like Hopefuland Vain-Hope, our hopes move us ulti-mately toward something—toward Godperhaps or toward something else.

Along the way, we will, of course,carry longings both weighted and light-hearted. And we undoubtedly grieve thedeath of certain hopes throughout ourlifetimes, hopes that dissipated, hopesthat failed to move us in the directionswe were anticipating, hopes that simplychanged. But these are not always deadends. Sometimes hope must rise from the ashes of lifeless dreams in order toredirect us. But we are always moving, and

in this, the Christian admonishment to “bejoyful in hope” (Romans 12:12) may evenbe a helpful guide. We simply cannot doso if we are living in fear of the alternative.

Hopeful’s companionship wouldnot have been helpful had he despaired attheir chances of getting to the CelestialCity. Yet neither would Christian andHopeful have made it to those shores ifthe Celestial City were not real. Evenwhen joy is our motivator, it must lead usto hope upon pathways of reality.

I was startled recently by the strik-ing thought that all hope, whether vain orfalse or rightful, not only leads us to anend, but will come to an end itself. Vain-Hope and Hopeful have this in commonactually. One carried a hope that ended indeath, the other a hope that ended at thegates of the Celestial City.

“I sink in deep waters,” criedChristian in the river as his sins came tohis mind. “But I see the gate,” saidHopeful “and men standing at it ready toreceive us.” Hope took them across theRiver of Death and then died itself—infruition—at the shore.

It is this sort of hope that theChristian story invites the world to takehold of in joy and in certainty as ananchor for life itself. The Scripturesreveal that we can be led by someonegreater than ourselves, by the vicariouslyhuman Christ who has gone before usmaking a way, and this same Christ willcome again to bring us onward. We canlabor toward his promises, holding hopeeven now, moving toward a Holy Citywhere there will be no more death ormourning or crying or pain. There he will stand before us, the Alpha and theOmega, the first and the last; and ourhope, then materialized, then actualized,will bow to its rightful end.

Jill Carattini is Director of Apologetics,Theology, and the Arts at Ravi ZachariasInternational Ministries.


PARTS OF THE “IRON CURTAIN” STILL REMAIN ALONG THEAUSTRIAN/CZECH REPUBLIC (FORMERLY CZECHOSLOVAKIA) BORDER AS A STARK REMINDER TO ITS BRUTAL COMMUNIST PAST.


The Face of DarknessBy Stuart McAllister

Christianity is not an escape systemfor us to avoid reality, live above it,or be able to redefine it. Christianityis a way that leads us to grasp whatreality is and, by God’s grace andhelp, to navigate through it to oureternal home.


A FRIEND ONCE said to me, “Life ishard, God is good—don’t get the twoconfused.” His words hit me with a forcethat made me think long after they werespoken. The longer we walk with Godand face the pressures of life and change,the more we appreciate grace but alsocome to recognize how dependent we are in an ongoing way to complete the journey.

I have now walked with God forforty years, most of it in what we may call“fulltime Christian service.” I continueto discover that although each stage oflife is new, each invites us to face it withfaith, hope, and resolve. Hebrews 12:1-3tells us “we are surrounded by such agreat of cloud of witnesses” who havecompleted their race. We are exhortedto “run with perseverance the racemarked out for us, fixing our eyes onJesus” so that we may not succumb to the very real danger to “grow wearyand lose heart.” I find these words verysignificant in this season in life, becausefinishing well requires courage and commitment as earlier challenges did intheir own way.

As a new year or new season of lifedawns, one way I have found helpful inlooking forward to what lies ahead is to first look back: to reflect on the chal-lenges experienced and God’s mercies,which as Scripture reminds us “are newevery morning” (Lamentations 3:23). As such, I hope the following personalstory serves as an encouragement thatfixing our eyes on Jesus is our only sureguide, for he is truly “our help in agespast, our hope for years to come.”1

—Stuart McAllister

It seemed like yet another routineborder crossing in what was thenCommunist-ruled Czechoslovakia.The year was 1981; Leonid Brezhnev

was the head of the Soviet Union, andhalf of Europe languished under theCommunist vision and control. As ayoung, enthusiastic, and eager Christian,I had joined a mission whose primarytask was to help the church in EasternEurope. This involved transportingBibles, hymn books, and Christian liter-ature to believers behind what WinstonChurchill called the “Iron Curtain.”

It was indeed an iron curtain: avast barrier made of barbed-wire fences,mine fields, exclusion zones, guard towers, heavily armed soldiers, and dogs.Although designed allegedly to keep theWest out, it was in actuality a vast systemof control to keep those under thistyranny in. On this occasion my task wasto transit through Czechoslovakia intoPoland to deliver my precious cargo ofBibles and books to a contact there.

The literature was concealed inspecially designed compartments, andmy colleague and I had gone throughour routine preborder procedures. Wechecked everything to see that it allappeared normal. We checked thateverything was closed, locked, andsecure. We bowed our heads and prayedthat God would protect us and makeseeing eyes blind—not literally, butunable to detect our hidden cargo. Wethen proceeded to the border crossingbetween Austria and Czechoslovakia.

It was a cold, bleak, early winterday. It all seemed normal. We enteredCzechoslovakia, and the huge barrierdescended behind us. We were nowlocked in. As usual, the unfriendly borderguards took our passports, and then thecustoms inspector arrived. I had beentrained to act casual, to pray silently, andto respond to questions. I sensed thistime it was different. The man ignored

Adapted from Stuart McAllister’schapter “The Role of Doubt and Persecution in SpiritualTransformation” in Ravi Zacharias,ed., Beyond Opinion: Living the FaithWe Defend (Nashville, TN: ThomasNelson, 2007). Used by permissionof Thomas Nelson.


me, concentrated on the structure ofour vehicle, and was soon convinced wehad something concealed. I becamequite tense.

My colleague and I were separated.The guards demanded we show themwhat we had, and they tried to force meto surrender the keys to the vehicle. Iresisted verbally, conscious that theywere armed. I was a Christian and didnot want to give anything away, yet I hadto try to act as a normal tourist would insuch circumstances. They eventuallytook the keys from me and locked mycolleague and me in separate rooms. The guards broke into the special com-partments in our vehicle, where theydiscovered the Bibles and literature.

I prayed for wisdom. I asked Godto guide me and to lead me in whatevercame next. For several hours I was interrogated. Who sent us? Where were wegoing? Did we work for a Western govern-ment or agency? I had determined basedon previous experience that if caught,I’d concentrate on witnessing, as all theother details they needed were in mypassport. They were neither amused norinterested. Several hours later, we werecollected by some plainclothes officialsand driven to a prison outside the city of Brunn.

My colleague and I were handcuffed,not allowed to speak to each other, andput in separate cells with people whospoke no English. The small roomssmelled of disinfectant and had only two bunk beds and a hole in the floorthat served as the toilet. The light waskept on all night and some basic foodwas brought three times a day. The rules were rigid and enforced: no sittingor lying on the beds during the day. This meant shuffling backward and forward for hours in a highly restrictedspace, then facing a difficult night as we sought to sleep under the glare of the constant light.

Time became blurred. Was itmorning, day, evening? I found myselfalone, in a hostile place, without any-thing to read, without anyone to talk to,without any idea when or if we might bereleased, and with seeming unlimited(and empty) time on my hands. There isnothing like empty time and constrictedspace to bring to the surface feelings,questions, and doubts.

I did not choose this path foradventure; I was well aware of what wewere up against and what might happenif we were caught. I was surprised by myintense feelings brought on by boredomand uncertainty—how long would thisimprisonment last? Contrary to some ofthe more starry-eyed testimonies I haveread, I did not experience overwhelminggrace or a profound sense of God’s pres-ence. I did have the assurance that hewas there, that he knew what was goingon, and that “my times were in hishands” (see Ps. 31:15). My feelings, however, became a source of torment.

Why? For some reason I had aninitial impression that we would bereleased quickly and expelled from thecountry. As the first few days passedwith no communication and I had noidea what was happening, I began towrestle to some degree with doubt. Itwas intense, it was real, and it was fillingmy mind and clouding my thoughts andmy heart. My doubts seemed to focus onuncertainty as to what God was doingand whether I could actually trust whatI thought was his leading. I also wasstruggling with how much I might beasked to face. I only had prayer andmemories of those in Scripture who hadfaced similar things and the training ses-sions we had passed through in our teamsessions in Vienna to resort to, so Istruggled to regain focus and to rest andtrust in God.

I can well remember a point of surrender. After several days, I resigned


myself to the possibility that my impris-onment could last for years. I might notget out for a long time, so I had to makethe best of what was and to rest in God.It is a point where we accept the hard-ship, where we still believe in greatergood, and where we surrender to whatseems like inevitability. I think I came torelinquish my sense and need for control(I had none anyway) and simply acceptthat God would be there as promised,and therefore, to rest in him.

I had crossed an important pointthat I subsequently discovered in the writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer,Richard Wurmbrand, AlexanderSolzhenitsyn, and Vaclav Havel. ScholarRoger Lundin remarks,

To Bonhoeffer, this is the distinc-tive “difference betweenChristianity and all religions.” Oursuffering, wrote Bonhoeffer onlymonths before his 1943 arrest,teaches us “to see the great eventsof world history from below, fromthe perspective of the outcast, thesuspects, the maltreated, the pow-erless.” The interpretive key tohuman experience is to be foundnot in our preference for Eden butin our power to share in the suffer-ings of God and the world: “Wehave to learn that personal sufferingis a more effective key, a morerewarding principle for exploringthe world in thought and actionthan personal good fortune”(Letters, 17). This is what it means to see with a “god’s-eye” view ofthings. From such a vantage point,Bonhoeffer asks, “How can successmake us arrogant, or failure lead usastray, when we share in God’s suf-ferings through a life of this kind?”2

In Matthew 11:1–4, we read theaccount of John the Baptist in prison.

From the early part of the Gospels weoften assume a picture of this robustprophet sent in advance of the Messiah,announcing boldly the one who is tocome. Here, however, John is in prison.He does not know what will happen orhow long he will be there. He faces a lifethat is out of control and unpredictable.From within the dark prison, he hears ofJesus’ miracles and he begins to wonder.He is now not so sure and sends a mes-senger to ask Jesus, “Are you the onewho was to come, or should we expectsomeone else?” (v. 3).

We cannot ignore John’s earlierexperiences and his announcement ofwho Jesus was in John 1:19–34. This sameJohn is now in prison, now in very differ-ent circumstances, and he has doubts.Yet notice that Jesus does not launchinto a harangue or respond, “How dareyou doubt.” He tells the messengers,“Go back and report to John what youhear and see: The blind receive sight, thelame walk, those who have leprosy arecured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised,and the good news is preached to thepoor. Blessed is the man who does notfall away on account of me” (Matt. 11:4–6).Jesus provides some information andinvites John to reflect on what is hap-pening and to draw his conclusions fromthe great narrative of redemptive historyand prophecy that John was aware ofand of which Jesus was clearly implyinghe was a part.

That is, John’s circumstances didnot just descend on him in a vacuum. He was imprisoned because of his com-mitments and convictions, and above all,because of his identity and calling. Hislife was marked by God; he had a clearsense of destiny, and yet he did notknow—nor did he expect—that it wouldturn out this way. Moreover, some timelater he faced the day when an execution-er in response to an embarrassed rulercame to take his head. This reality


is a far cry from the easy believism or“Christianity lite” that is often trumpetedas the normal Christian life. John faced,and paid, the ultimate price of his calling.

As those raised in comfort andconvenience, the very nature of all thismay frighten or repel us. If the messagewe have believed or the model we havebeen taught has raised false expecta-tions, then we are going to be subject todoubt and fear, and worse, reject thewhole thing. The gospel and Christianityare concerned with reality, and hencewith truth. By this I mean what the truenature of life really is and means.Christianity is not an escape system forus to avoid reality, live above it, or beable to redefine it. Christianity is a waythat leads us to grasp what reality is and,by God’s grace and help, to navigatethrough it to our eternal home.

Nothing quite hits home duringour soulful experiences of doubt, pain,

frustration, and disappointment. Afriend of mine used to say, “Trials willmake us bitter or better,” and I haveseen this demonstrated in many lives.

Trials, persecutions, and problems maysurface unresolved fear.

Perhaps we fear that all we believeis just an illusion, a lie, or a mere projec-tion of our deepest desires (as SigmundFreud asserted). Or perhaps we fearabandonment; we keep on believingGod is there, but he seems to ignore us.Or maybe we fear that we do not havewhat it takes to suffer or endure, and sowe face the personal battle of failure andultimately, shame.

To anyone familiar with apologetics,C.S. Lewis stands out as a prominent figure. His philosophical reflections inThe Problem of Pain are well known andstand within the long tradition ofChristian thought on this topic. Hiswork A Grief Observed, written in the

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furnace of intense suffering upon thesickness and death of his wife, JoyDavidman, reveals another dimension tothis whole equation. Lewis writes in TheProblem of Pain:

Everyone has noticed how hard it isto turn our thoughts to God wheneverything is going well with us. We “have all we want” is a terriblesaying when “all” does not includeGod. We find God an interruption.. . . Now God, who has made us,knows what we are and that ourhappiness lies in Him. Yet we willnot seek it in Him as long as Heleaves us any other resort where itcan even plausibly be looked for.While what we call “our own life”remains agreeable we will not sur-render it to Him. What then canGod do in our interests but make“our own life” less agreeable to us,and take away the plausible sourceof false happiness? It is just here,where God’s providence seems atfirst to be most cruel, that theDivine humility, the stooping downof the Highest, most deserves praise.3

Like the psalmist, Lewis is honest;he expresses anger, doubts, and ques-tions. He asks God for comfort andassurance, yet at times he feels as ifheaven is closed for business, the doorslocked and double bolted.

In such circumstances we areforced to face what we mean when wespeak of faith. Do we have to believe inspite of the evidence to the contrary?Do we believe no matter what? How dowe handle the deep and pressing ques-tions our own minds bring as our expec-tations and reality do not match? Forme, in my time in prison, I expectedGod to do certain things, and to dothem in a sensible way and time. Iexpected that God would act fairly

quickly and that I would sense his inter-vention. My reading of Scripture, mygrasp of God’s promises, my trust in thereliability of God’s Word, the teaching Ihad received, and the message I hadembraced led me to expect certainthings, and in a particular way. Whenthis did not occur in the way I expectedor in the timing that I thought it should,I was both confused and angry.

Was God ignoring me? Was theresome higher, hidden purpose that I wasto somehow fulfill yet was denied anyaccess to what it was? Had I been sold alie? God in his mercy allows us to expressour fears, our doubts, our anger, yet healso leads us to face the true nature ofreality, of his character and ways, and thetrue nature of spiritual warfare. Whatdid I learn in the furnace of doubt?

First, I learned the role of prayer. Ifound that prayer is an active, ongoing,and vital conversation with God in themidst of struggle and doubt.

Second, I learned the role of reflection.I thought about the great stories of theBible and God’s promises. In this, mymemory of Scripture, songs, testimonies,and promises was crucial. What did they mean, and how did they apply hereand now?

Third, I learned the role of struggle.As much as I disliked it, there was nodenying that struggle was all through theBible, in the life of Jesus, and acrosschurch history.

The great story of Shadrach,Meshach, and Abednego in Daniel 3captures this lesson powerfully. Thoughprisoners of a militaristic empire, thesethree believers find themselves in theemployment of the top government.Then the king passes a decree that putstheir primary loyalty to God in questionand demands their full obedience. Yettheir convictions will not allow them todeny their God, compromise their faith,and commit idolatry. When faced with


their uncompromising stance, KingNebuchadnezzar does what manypower-addicted rulers do: he threatensthem with an all-or-nothing choice.“Furious with rage, Nebuchadnezzarsummoned Shadrach, Meshach andAbednego…. ‘If you are ready to falldown and worship the image I made,very good. But if you do not worship it,you will be thrown immediately into ablazing furnace. Then what god will beable to rescue you from my hand?’”(Dan. 3:13–15).

In this cameo, we see a scenariothat has been repeated across historytime and time again. It is okay to believeso long as you know and accept the limits permitted. You can believe whatyou want privately, but when a publicdemand intersects with your “personal”convictions, you are expected—no, youare required—to conform to society’sdemands, and to do so quickly and without reservation. There are manyexamples of this.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was quick tograsp the totalitarian nature of the Nazisand the way that theology, church lead-ership, and state power could all be usedto demand total subservience to theNazi state and its policies. As with manyin the time of the Roman Empire, theissue was who was king: Caesar orChrist? Hitler or Jesus? Bonhoeffer notonly resisted Hitler’s policies, but he wasalso actively involved in an attempt tostop him. Bonhoeffer’s theologicalreflections, honest questions, andprayers before God invite us to weighthe implications of truly trying to followChrist, even unto death.

Alister McGrath astutely observes,

God is revealed and human experience is illuminated throughthe cross of Jesus Christ. Yet, as the believer contemplates theappalling spectacle of the suffering

and dying Christ, he is forced tothe recognition that God does notappear to be there at all, and theonly human experience to be seenis apparently pointless suffering. IfGod is to be found in the cross ofChrist, then he is hidden in themystery; if human experience isilluminated by that cross, then theexperiences which are illuminatedare those of suffering, abandonment,powerlessness and hopelessness,culminating in death. Either Godis not present at all in this situation,or else he is present in a remarkableand paradoxical way.4

When the time came to face thehangman’s rope, Bonhoeffer committedhis soul into the hands of God and wentquietly to his death. Likewise, Shadrach,Meshach, and Abednego gave an aston-ishing answer to the king and his ultima-tum, and thus revealed something evenmore potent: “If we are thrown into theblazing furnace, the God we serve is ableto save us from it, and he will rescue usfrom your hand, O king. But even if hedoes not, we want you to know, O king,that we will not serve your gods or wor-ship the image of gold you have set up”(Daniel 3:17-18).

Here is a classic case of speakingtruth to power. These men were throwninto events that they had no controlover, yet their history rooted them inGod and gave them the courage anddetermination to choose the right thingin spite of the obvious consequences. Iam confident that silent prayer, deeplyingrained memories, and their reflectionof God’s character contributed to theirability to stand. Specifically, these threemen knew that God was real, holy, and incontrol. They recognized that their liveswere in danger, yet they were not willingto compromise. They knew God coulddeliver them, but they did not know if


he would. Either way, they would notcompromise or dishonor God.

Maybe we want to psychoanalyzeShadrach, Meshach, and Abednego andask why they were so extreme. Perhapswe assume they were just among thecourageous few we see occasionally inhistory. I don’t think so. I think this nar-rative in Daniel 3 is given to cause us toreflect deeply on the nature of realityand truth. If we don’t have some senseof what is really real, then we cannot livetruthfully or in correspondence withreality.

Once again, Alister McGrath captures this well:

In effect we are forced to turn oureyes from contemplation of wherewe would like to see God revealed,and to turn them instead upon aplace which is not of our ownchoosing, but which is given to us.As the history of human thoughtdemonstrates, we like to find Godin the beauty of nature, in the bril-liance of an inspired human work of art or in the depths of our ownbeing—and instead, we must recog-nize that the sole authorised symbolof the Christian faith is a scene ofdereliction and carnage.5

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednegolearned that this is a God-created and aGod-governed world. Because it is creat-ed, they knew that living in conformityto God’s will was the only way to trulyfunction. Their view of reality was fullerthan that of Nebuchadnezzar, andbecause of this they were confident thatdoing the right thing was the right thing.Because God governs the world, theyknew that justice was ultimately inGod’s hands, not the king’s. They were,therefore, willing to make a hard choiceno matter where it would lead.

Since I had never given any con-scious thought to worldviews in general

or mine in particular, I was unaware howmany unexamined assumptions I was liv-ing by. I did not realize how little changehad penetrated my heart, and underpressure the gaps were painfully revealedand felt. From the perspective of time, Ican now answer these questions mean-ingfully, but I needed the experience ofdoubt and hardship to show me howmuch I did not know or was not rootedin the biblical answers to these corequestions. A worldview that merelyanswers questions intellectually is insuf-ficient; it must also meet us existentiallywhere we have to live.

Persecution, struggle, and painforce us to face what is the nature ofreality. How do things really work?What kind of a world is this? As I wentinto the Czechoslovakian prison, it waswith several deep convictions. I believedthat God really exists, that he is theCreator and sustainer of the world, thathe oversees reality, and that he is presentwith us by the Holy Spirit. I believed(and still believe) he is a God of purpose,and his will is paramount in history.Even if we cannot discern what is atstake, God is present and working instrange places and in unseen ways.

Yet significantly, the beliefs thatbrought comfort also became part of mystruggle. What should I expect fromGod? How might he intervene and inwhat way? I found that I had to let go ofdemands, expectations, and frustrations,and to embrace uncertainty, helplessness,and silence, even though it was hard.The limitations of my human perspectiveseemed to press in on me at times with a weight I wished I could overcome. Iwas to a large extent unable to grasphow deep and how sinister were theimplications of living in a disordered,disrupted world until these unwantedexperiences surfaced levels of doubt orquestions, until then hidden from myown consciousness.


Without devaluing any of the indi-vidual suffering that occurs, we need abig-picture view of suffering as well, inwhich we consider the whole drama.Indeed, one of the reasons Shadrach,Meshach, and Abednego could respondto Nebuchadnezzar with such boldnesswas their assurance that God is theCreator and sovereign over all, whoholds all history, rulers, and events in his hands. This ability to see beyond, to believe in the face of darkness, to tri-umph through suffering is a vital aspectof the Holy Spirit’s transforming role inour lives and in the reframing of ourview of reality, and therefore, of truth.

As a Christian facing such difficul-ties, the battle with our emotionsbecomes crucial. Did Daniel’s friendsexperience fear and doubt? Did Johnthe Baptist? Did Bonhoeffer? Theanswer, I think, is yes. It is part of whatit means to be human. Yet it is also oneof the vast hurdles to be faced in ourtime. This is the age of therapy, thedomination of market values, where

looking good and feeling good replacebeing good and doing good—and mostpeople don’t know the difference.Feelings and emotional states have been elevated and promoted to such adegree that the domination of emotionsand the demand for good feelings, allthe time, is imbibed with the air that we breathe.

In a very real sense, part of thejourney of transformation in the believer’slife is becoming aware of our falseexpectations and the true nature of theworld we have to live in and face, whichthe Bible reminds us is still afflicted bydark powers and forces (Eph. 6:10–12).Throughout our lives and our journeys,we are compelled to ask questions of ourbeliefs, our values, and our experiences.Perhaps the question is, how does Godwork in forming us and transforming us?Do these experiences of pressure, suffer-ing, and doubt actually contribute to ourgrowth, and more, are they (in reality)part of the ways and means God employsto achieve his ends?

PASSPORT STAMPS FROM

STUART’S 1981 TRIP.

IN 1989, DEMOCRACY WAS

RESTORED TO CZECHOSLOVA-

KIA AS COMMUNIST RULE

WAS EXTIRPATED FROM

EUROPE. IN 1992, THE

COUNTRY WAS DISSOLVED

BY PARLIAMENT.

ON JANUARY 1, 1993, IT

FORMALLY SEPARATED

INTO TWO INDEPENDENT

COUNTRIES, THE CZECH

REPUBLIC AND THE

SLOVAK REPUBLIC.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


God’s intervention does not alwayscome in ways we expect (though some-times it does); however, it does come. Itmay be a direct experience of grace; itmay be mediated through another person,book, or sermon. The point is, in a God-governed and purpose-driven cosmos,nothing is in vain and nothing should beignored or neglected. Bill Smith, a friendof mine and Director of the C.S. LewisInstitute in Atlanta, often exhorts peo-ple to cultivate the “gift of noticing.” Bythis he means actively looking for God’spresence and grace in the everydaythings we often ignore.

It may be in the beauty of creation,in the smile of a friend or a spouse, in thearoma and taste of a good meal, in thejoy of robust laughter, in the pleasure ofa good book or movie. When we work at noticing, we begin to “see” more, toenjoy more, and to celebrate more.

Daniel’s three friends becameaware of a presence in the midst of thefurnace and in the midst of their trial.Bonhoeffer also wrote touchingly of hisexperience in the Nazi prison and in theface of death. It was not just the abilityto endure, but the transforming work ofGod in their lives that was crucial andpractical. We see God at work in the bigpicture, even at times as we may loseperspective or sight in the details. To me this is one of the greatest lessons and the biggest challenges we face.

As I sat thinking, praying, and hoping in the custody of the Czechoslo-vakian authorities, I was surprised oneday when the door opened and I wassummoned forth, signaled not to speak,and then led out to a waiting car withmy colleague, whom I was just seeingafter ten or eleven days. We were drivenin silence to the border. We were handedour passports and our severely damagedvehicle, and we were then expelled fromthe country.

We crossed into Austria and wereable to talk for the first time in nearlytwo weeks. We shared our stories, and westopped and prayed. We heard missingdetails; we discovered ways that Godworked in us. We shared how we couldwitness and testify. We spoke of ourstruggles, our doubts, and our overallconfidence. We did not doubt God wasthere, or that he had a purpose in ourarrest, interrogation, and imprisonment.We sensed that somehow, in some way,we were part of an ongoing cosmic dramain which these events played a small butmeaningful role. It was not an experi-ence we would choose, and it was notthe way we expected, but it was God’swill for us at that time and we could seeand testify that it had changed us.

It would be presumptuous to turnour limited experience and insight into amajor pattern for all, yet in the midst ofit we were able to detect broader strokes,hidden meanings, and real possibilities.Like Joseph so many centuries before,we could look back on all that happened,reflect on it and say, “They meant it for evil, but God meant it for good”(Gen. 50:20).

Stuart McAllister is Global SupportSpecialist at Ravi Zacharias InternationalMinistries.

1 Isaac Watts, “O God, Our Help in Ages Past,”(1719). 2 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters, 17, 370, quoted

in Roger Lundin, From Nature to Experience: The American Search for Cultural Authority(Lanham, MD: Rowman & LittlefieldPublishers, Inc., 2005), 40.3 C.S. Lewis quoted in Richard Purtill,

C.S. Lewis’s Case for the Christian Faith (San Francisco, Ignatius Press, 2004), 53.4 Alister E. McGrath, The Mystery of the Cross

(Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan PublishingHouse, 1988), 102.

5 Ibid., 104.

You AreWith MeBy Nathan Betts

The constant presence of aheavenly Father is indeed real.He is a good shepherd whoprotects us and guides us eachstep of the way. He alone is theone who gives us the strengthto say, “I will fear no evil, for youare with me.”


THERE ARE FEW things more patronizingthan having someone tell you to notworry when every physical object and circumstance in the present tells you oth-erwise. Yet, as a father, periodically I findmyself going into my children’s room atnight in order to calm them from a baddream. I tell them that everything isokay; there really are no monsters intheir closet. Everything else aroundthem tells them otherwise, but I insistwith them that everything will be fine.

On one particular night when myson was afraid that a bad person mightcome into his room while he was asleep,I assured him that he had nothing toworry about. “No bad person will climbup on the roof and enter your room inthe night,” I said. And so, I promisedhim, he had nothing to fear.

I think back to that night withsome humor as it felt as though I wasexplaining something that seemed obvi-ous to me. I had full confidence thateverything was going to be fine.

But I began to think of how I mightrespond to a situation that did not turnout as I would hope. How would Irespond then?

My mind took me to a Sundayafternoon two years ago. My family andI had just pulled into our driveway afterchurch. Coming into the house, I lookedat my phone and saw that my sister hadsent a text message asking me to call her.I had a bad feeling. For some reason, Iknew something was not right. My heartstarted beating slightly faster. I calledmy sister and she gently told me that ourdad had passed away suddenly thatmorning. I was shocked. We were bothshocked. My initial response was thatsomething could be done to revive him.Surely, I thought, the paramedics couldstill work on my dad. But it was too late.Eventually, I came to grips with the factthat my father had died.

Now, as I think back to that dayand the weeks following my father’s passing, many thoughts of him flood mymind. I remember the many poignantmemories of my dad shared at his funeralservice and the many warm conversationsI had with those who knew my father.There was sadness, yes, but there was also a sense of hope, comfort, and light-heartedness. I knew then and I knownow that I will see my father again.

One of the questions I am oftenasked about my dad is what I miss abouthim the most. Although many thingscome to mind, it is simply my dad’s presence that I miss most. There was astrength and comforting power in justbeing in a room with my father.

Yet, as I have given much thoughtto this feeling of profound loss of mydad, particularly longing for his presence,I am encouraged that that the Christianfaith responds powerfully. As I read theScriptures, I find myriad stories of peoplewho grieved, experienced loss, and wereafraid. Psalm 23 has been instructive forme. David, the writer of this psalm,writes in verse 4:

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff,they comfort me.

David here paints a very grim yetreal portrait of evil. Evil is described as akind of dark ravine. Although the psalmbegins with the pastoral scene of sheepand a shepherd, it gradually transitionsto a dark valley.

What I find encouraging aboutthis passage is that David does not shyaway from acknowledging evil. Davidwould have known this reality well. Hewas a complex man who knew wealth,



power, danger, risk, and loneliness. Herehe speaks of the reality of evil that heknew well. It is into this context inwhich he asserts his trust in Yahweh.

He writes, “I will fear no evil.” IfDavid stopped there, I confess that I amnot sure I would be able to believe him.When sadness and despair become areality for us, it can feel that there is noend in sight. Judging by the events inDavid’s life, I am sure he endured thoseemotions. For the doubter who mightwonder how David can say such a state-ment, he answers: “[F]or you are withme; your rod and your staff, they com-fort me.”

David’s trust in the Lord is ground-ed in the assurance of God’s presence.David here is picking up on a deeplycherished belief in his community offaith. The late Bible scholar KennethBailey sheds light on this point:

Israel was proud of God’s constantpresence. Deuteronomy 4:7 says,“What great nation is there thathas a god so near to it as theLORD our God is to us, wheneverwe call upon him?” The gods of the nations around Israel lived intemples built for them to inhabit.To talk to the god the worshiperwas obliged to visit his “house”where he could be found. An idolwas fashioned, and that idol wasgod. Not so in Israel.1

The presence of God was a distin-guishing factor in what made Israelunique among other nations. More thanthat, God’s presence was the antidote toIsrael’s fear. Yes, there would be severehardship, uncertainty, and pain, butIsrael found its security and comfort in the constant presence of God.

David adds that it is not only God’spresence, but that this God comes “fullyequipped” (in the words of two Biblescholars) with a rod and staff: “TheShepherd of the royal and priestly sheepis fully armed to fend off an attack by anything or anyone.”2 This realitycomforts him. For a man who was once a shepherd, David knew the importanceof the rod and staff. Both were protectiveobjects used to fend off predators and toguide sheep in travel. By David’s referenceto them, I wonder if he is saying, “Don’tforget that the help that Yahweh bringsis real—just as real as these objects thata shepherd uses.”

As I think about my father andread Psalm 23, I sense the reality of mydad’s presence. Ravi Zacharias helpfullyreminds us that when a loved one whoknew the Lord is no longer with us, wecannot merely say that person is gone.We have to be clear about where thatperson has gone. My father has gone tobe with the Lord. I do not have thepresence of my earthly father with menow, but I do have the constant presenceof my heavenly Father—his constantpresence that is indeed real. He is a goodshepherd who protects and guides useach step of the way. He alone is the onewho gives us the strength to say, “I willfear no evil, for you are with me.”

Nathan Betts is a member of the speakingteam at RZIM.

1Kenneth E. Bailey, The Good Shepherd: AThousand-Year Journey from Psalm 23 to the NewTestament (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsityPress, 2014), 49.2Bruce K. Waltke and James M. Houston withErica Moore, The Psalms As Christian Worship: A Historical Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI:Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2010), 441.


AFTER WATCHING THE fuel light flashon and the needle descend well below“E,” my husband, Vince, and I felt greatrelief when we pulled our rental car intothe only gas station for miles around. It was the Monday following Easterweekend, and we were taking a road tripto visit friends in California after a weekof ministry in the area.

A detour through Death Valley hadseemed like such a brilliant idea earlierin the day. However, once we lost phonesignal, access to Google Maps, and con-sequently ourselves, and all of this beforeeven reaching Death Valley, our foray intothe desert was rapidly losing its allure.

Nevertheless, we pressed on downthe dusty road, paying little heed to theabsence of other travelers either comingor going enroute—an absence that wasabruptly explained by the barrier loom-ing before us. Ironically, Badwater Roadhad flooded, leaving us at a “dead end.”

Defeated, we began driving back theway we came, when suddenly we spotteda weathered trail winding away towardsthe valley. And so we faced a choice:should we give up and take the long

way around? Or, armed with our scantresources (namely, a bag of Cheetos andno phone signal), should we veer left andrisk the pot-holed, unmarked track?

Upon reflection, that day in DeathValley sums up for me what I have heardmany people say about their experienceof 2017. Another year in which, culturally,our fixed poles have spun dizzyinglyoff-kilter, leaving us to navigate withouta functioning compass. Another year toshatter the illusion that we have it allunder control and to shake us from the folly of expecting technologicaladvances to save us. For some, it was ayear of adventure, but not without itsshare of bumpy roads and flash floods.For others, it was a year of running lowon fuel and wondering where we can evengo to get filled up—a season of riskswithout foreseeable rewards, of barrenlandscapes, and disappointed hopes, ofcrushed dreams and even “dead ends.”

In his poem “A Dream Within aDream,” the poet Edgar Allan Poehauntingly gives voice to this achingfeeling of disillusionment:

I stand amid the roarOf a surf-tormented shore,And I hold within my handGrains of the golden sand—How few! yet how they creep

All Things NewBy Jo Vitale

Through my fingers to the deep,While I weep—while I weep!O God! Can I not graspThem with a tighter clasp?O God! can I not saveOne from the pitiless wave?Is all that we see or seemBut a dream within a dream?

In his lament, Poe taps into thequestion we all wrestle with: Is thereanything of substance for us to hold onto? When most of us are uncertain as tohow we even got here, what hope do wehave of figuring out where we’re headed?

And yet, the Scriptures remind usthat the people of God have wandered in the desert before. No matter howunfamiliar the path to us, God has notlost his way. Even when God’s peoplewere at their bleakest moment, takencaptive by their enemies and exiled fromtheir promised land, God still called outto them to open their eyes:

See, I am doing a new thing!Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?I am making a way in the wildernessand streams in the wasteland.(Isaiah 43:19)

We may feel like the world is slip-ping through our fingers, but God’s gripremains secure. As one student at theZacharias Institute recently shared,“God’s in control. It’s his universe. Youmay think you’re in control, but youdon’t have a universe!” And what doesthe One who is seated on the thronesay? “Behold, I am making all thingsnew” (Revelation 21:5).

Vince and I took the path throughthe valley and, potholes notwithstanding,we were so glad that we did.

You see, most of the time DeathValley is a hot, dry landscape. But everydecade or so, fluctuations in temperaturebetween the ocean and the atmospherecreate an unusually warm weather phase

known as El Niño. And when El Niñocomes to Death Valley, the desert experi-ences a “superbloom”: a meadow ofvibrant wildflowers sweeping across theentire valley, as far as the eye can see.

How fitting it is that El Niño, “thelittle boy,” refers to the Christ child; foronly the coming of God into our worldcould draw such glorious life out of aplace of death. What a perfect way tospend the Monday after Easter; for it issolely on account of the resurrection ofJesus that we find ourselves ever beingmade new. This is a truth that our dearlymissed brother Nabeel Qureshi under-stood and lived by. As he said,

What the resurrection means is that, if it comes to a point in your life whereit seems like there is no hope, that evendeath is inevitable and there’s no wayto escape it…. Death is not the end.There’s more. There’s hope no matter what.

This past year was a year like anyother: a year of struggle and adventure,of disappointment and wonder, of beinglost and found, of endings and beginnings.And yet, weaving all of it together wasour astonishing God, the One whobends down to the dust and breathesinto it his very own breath, the breath of life. Another year where the comingof the Christ child led people out ofdarkness and into the light of life.

Whatever else may come, we canlook forward to another year confidentthat God will continue to do the same—that with God, it will indeed be another“superbloom” year. Let us turn to theOne seated on the throne, the God whosewords are a sure and tender promise for us to orient ourselves toward as westep out once more, for He promises,“Behold! I am making all things new”(Revelation 21:5).

Jo Vitale is Dean of Studies at theZacharias Institute and ItinerantSpeaker for RZIM.


Upon Arrival

By Ravi Zacharias

Think Again

Years ago, my family and I were visitingthe city of Bedford, England. In the heartof Bedford stands a larger-than-life statueof the famed seventeenth-century authorJohn Bunyan. In fact, so imposing is thesize of that sculpture that someone hadpainted bold, gigantic white footstepsfrom the edifice all the way to the publictoilets. The message implied, sarcasticallyor otherwise, was that Bunyan still lives.

Any reader of literature knows that though Bunyan has long been dead,his brilliant work, The Pilgrim’s Progress,does indeed live on. That book has beentranslated into more languages than anyother book in history, with the exceptionof the Bible.

So my family and I wanderedthrough the museum built to his memo-ry, where there was exhibited a copy of the book in every language in which it had been printed. We were quiteimpressed by the people of variousnationalities engrossed in the display,walking from room to room, studyingthe exhibits.

As I was leaving, I commented tothe woman at the front desk, “Isn’t itamazing that a simple little book fromthe hands of a mender of pots and panshas won such worldwide acclaim?”

She paused and said, “I supposethat is true, but I must confess that Ihaven’t read it.”


TRAVIS GITTHENS


If there hadn’t been a hard floorbeneath me, I would have voluntarilyfainted. Unable to help myself, I askedher, “Why not?”

“I found it too difficult, I suppose,”came the very dispassionate reply.

If shock were to be measured alonga scale, at this point, I was nearly off thechart. What does one say to the personwho sells tickets to a museum, the exis-tence of which is owed to one book, whileshe herself has left the work unread? Irecommended that for the sake of sheercuriosity, if not propriety, she might atleast try the children’s version so shecould get a mild taste of what the interestwas all about.

Bunyan’s classic tale is a shrewdand an insightful allegory of the journeyof life. Christian, the lead character whorepresents each of us as pilgrims, strug-gles with a heavy burden. He encountersthe testing of Vanity Fair, the Slough ofDespond, and so on. It is only whenChristian reaches the foot of the crossat the top of the hill that his burden fallsoff him.

But the journey doesn’t end there.Bunyan writes,

Then he stood still for a while tolook with wonder and amazement;for it was so surprising to him thatthe sight of the Cross shouldaccomplish the release of his burden. Therefore he looked again and again, even until inwardsprings of water flowed down hischeeks. Now as he stood lookingand weeping, behold three ShiningOnes approached and saluted himwith the benediction, “Let peacebe upon you.”

So the first Shining One said tohim, “Your sins have been forgiven.”The second stripped Christian ofhis rags and clothed him with a

complete change of garment. The third also set a mark upon hisforehead, and gave him a scrollwith a seal on it, which he directedshould be looked at as he ran andhanded in upon arrival at the gateof the Celestial City.

The first angel meets his spiritualneed; the second addresses his physicalneeds, and the third engages his intellec-tual needs with a map to guide and instructhim along the journey. The Christian’swalk involves all three areas of life: thespiritual, the practical, and the intellec-tual. These are not mutually exclusive.

Yet, like the employee in theBedford museum who had not read theworks responsible for the museum’s veryexistence, we may disregard the veryauthor of our lives and the reason forour own existence. This is not only trueof skeptics but of confessing believersand followers of Christ as well.

So may we hold fast daily to hisWord and his Spirit’s indelible markupon on us at the foot of the cross as hisdearly loved children! God’s Word andhis indwelling presence are given to us toinform, enrich, teach, correct, and guideus to the “Celestial City.” If we lose sightof these realities, we have lost the lightthat guides us on the journey, whether it is through the valley or around thehope-filled bend.

But oh, too, rejoice in the tender-ness of God’s gifts to us! He is complete,and thus are we, in what He gives to youand me: He forgives us. He robes us. Andhe guides us home—with the seal of hisvery Spirit upon us, both now and whenwe arrive to meet Him face to face.

Warm Regards,

Ravi


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See, I am doing a new thing!Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?I am making a way in the wildernessand streams in the wasteland.”—Isaiah 43:19

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JU RTAVI ZAHCHARIIAS NINTERNKATIONAIL NMINISTRGIES · John Bunyan’s abiding allegory, The Pilgrim’s Progress, is a classic story of the Christian journey—and in it, he personifies