The Fencepost

There’s already been much said in reaction to Pat Robertson’s comments regarding marriage and Alzheimer’s disease on his 700 Club television program September 13. Allow me to point out the highlights.

I was first made aware of Robertson’s comments by Denny Burk, a professor at Boyce College in Louisville. He posted the video of the 700 Club segment in question. You can see it for yourself on YouTube.

On Thursday Southern Seminary’s Dean of Theology, Russell Moore, a man whom I respect greatly (and who would have been my Dean had I remained at Southern), posted his own blog reaction. He also appeared on CNN Friday to summarize the views about which he wrote.

As I made my own comment on Burk’s blog and read the comments of others, I witnessed a mix of “I can’t believe he said that” and “Shouldn’t we wait to pass judgment until we know the whole story?” One person I follow on Twitter implied that the fact that the husband to whom Robertson referred had already begun a relationship with another woman should change the way we interpret Robertson’s remarks.

Moore has already clearly expressed the biblical view of fidelity without compromise either to one’s spouse or toward modern societal fancies. I can’t do it any better.

So allow me to express this situation from my point of view as the son of a person with Alzheimer’s disease.

My father cares for my mother, who is in mid-stage of Alzheimer’s, full-time. He retired from a job with the State of California several years ago. The money he saved over the years, plus the benefits from former employment, help to fund his current life mission.

My mother is totally dependent on my father. Recently he had to lobby his healthcare provider to pay for a skilled in-home care expert to visit their home two days a week to helm my mom with basic personal care, which she can no longer perform adequately herself.

My mom used to love to cook and garden with my dad. Growing up there was rarely a night that she didn’t have dinner on the table for all of us. You should see the gorgeous backyard my parents created and maintained together. Mome grew dazzling roses and loved to talk about them. Those are things my dad does by himself now.

They still enjoy watching TV together, and even get out to see the occasional live jazz concert. Sometimes, though, my mom can’t distinguish between what’s happening on TV and what’s real.

Every day, my dad prays to God for the strength to care for his wife one more day. In one email last year, he told me he’s actually thankful that God orchestrated the events of their lives so that he could be there to love and care for this woman, my mother.

This January they will celebrate their 50th anniversary. My siblings and I will be there to share in their joy. The fact that they are still together despite my mom’s disease gives even more cause for celebration.

My dad is an example of faithful love. His life is a testimony to the truth of biblical fidelity in marrage, no matter what.

Pat Robertson’s remarks espouse the worst sort of subjective, experiential “Christianity” that is divorced from submission to bibical authority. He does not represent my faith or, if I may be bold enough to speak for him, that of my dad. Robertson’s comments were irresponsible, weak, and shameful. For the sake of the church at-large he should have the decency at this point to step down from his position and never seek to appear on television again.

I sincerely hope Robertson repents of his actions and seeks forgiveness from the God who has never abandoned him.

This post originally appeared on the Bridge Church blog, as a request from our pastor, Josh Howerton. We’re currently in a sermon series titled “First Spring-Hillians,” in which Josh is preaching based on the most-often submitted questions to an online survey. Lest you think this is just another topical sermon series, Josh has approached each of these sermons so far with a healthy mix of information, insight, and gospel. I’m please to republish this post here for my readers.

Although divorce and remarriage are commonplace in American culture, we can’t allow culture to dictate to the church what is acceptable. In other words, we can’t bend doctrine to fit a cultural norm. If both divorce and remarriage have become accepted, it may be because we have forgotten or ignored biblical teachings on the subject.

We also must state plainly that divorce and remarriage, if done sinfully, would not be sins that lie outside of God’s reach of grace. Christ died for all sins, and He will forgive any person who genuinely repents of a divorce or remarriage that falls outside His perfect will.

God created marriage when he created man and woman – male and female – in His image, giving them dominion over all animal and plant life (Gen. 1:26-27). He created the woman out of the man to compliment him in every way and be a suitable helper for him in all his work in the earth (Gen 2:18-25). In these passages we also see God’s command for the man and woman to have children, which means that marriage is God’s instrument for the creation and sustenance of families. So God made man and woman for marriage, and made marriage for them.

Divorce is seldom mentioned in the Bible, and not until Leviticus 21, in which God states that the Levite priests may not marry divorced women. In Deuteronomy 22, God commands that a man who falsely accuses his wife of not being a virgin on their wedding night should be whipped and was barred from ever divorcing the woman.

Probably the best known verse on divorce is Malachi 2:16. And yet the familiar “I hate divorce” does not appear in the ESV. This translation places the action of hatred on the divorcing husband toward his wife, instead of on God toward divorce itself. This translation indicates how the Old Testament speaks of divorce elsewhere. It is seen as an act of violence against a woman, something like cruel treachery. This makes sense for two reasons: God sees marriage as sacred and holy; and in a patriarchal culture such as Israel’s divorce would be a weapon men could easily wield against women.

We learn from Jesus that marital unfaithfulness is the only reason for divorce not equated with adultery (Matt. 5:31-32). Later (Matt. 19:3-9) Jesus restates this principle, explaining to the Pharisees that Moses allowed for divorce only because the Israelites’ hearts were hardened toward God’s will. The apostle Paul clarified the proper place for divorce in the church in 1 Cor. 7. There he wrote with spiritually mis-matched married couples in mind, stating that believers should remain with their unbelieving spouses. However, if the unbeliever abandoned the marriage, the believer was free from the obligations of that commitment.

What about cases of spousal abuse, physical or otherwise? As Josh pointed out in his Jan. 23 sermon on homosexuality, the “argument from silence” is extremely weak.  Scripture does not speak on what should be done in case of violence in a marriage. Thus, we must default to common Christian wisdom. An abusive spouse must come under the biblical discipline of church elders, even being put out of the church and treated as an unbeliever when unrepentant. Looking out for the welfare of every church member, it should be the duty of its leadership to protect an abused spouse, understanding that divorce may be the only remedy.

Studying this subject we find the proper chain of biblical interpretation. Jesus brought to light what the Old Testament only partially explained, and Paul’s epistle helps us interpret Jesus’ teachings. Marriage is a sacred and holy institution we must preserve because it glorifies God and solidifies the family. Divorce should be permitted by the church when there is a case of abandonment by an unbelieving spouse. A single believer who has previously divorced should remain free to remarry to another believer with the church’s full support and consent. In all things, we should celebrate whenever a Christian man and woman choose to commit their lives to each other in marriage.

At least I’m hoping it does. Once America’s Funniest Videos is over, my son and I will head out of the State Park lodge and see if we can burn up a couple of coupons at the intersection of chopped steak and chocolate malt. That is, if there is a Steak & Shake in the nearest town. Part of the fun of a trip like this is not knowing exactly where we are or what we’re doing. You have to be okay with that.

My older son and I went on a trip like this a little more than three years ago – to a different state park lodge. That was when we decided to use some borrowed fishing gear to see if we could land ourselves some … well, some fish. I have no idea what kind they were. All I know is they vastly preferred whatever the guy next to us was using as bait to whatever it is we were using. It was like he was willing those fish onto his hook with his mind. The same fish that were swimming right past our hook! Like I said, on trips like these you have to be okay with not getting everything right.

And when I say “trips like these,” I’m talking about the trips you take with your adolescent sons to prepare them for impending manhood. Yes, those horrifyingly awkward journeys of prepubescence and steakburgers, the ones our fathers took us on. The ones we’ve vowed will be less awkward and more meaningful, because we live in a different time when men know how to talk to their growing sons about things like peer pressure, hormonal changes, and you know what else.

My trip with my older son three years ago turned out to be much more of a blessing than I expected. To my surprise, he took all the information well and asked a lot of good questions. We left the door open to continue those conversations indefinitely, as long as he needs to know something more. There have been many times since then that I’ve heard the words, “Daddy, can we talk?” And I know what’s coming is due, at least in part, to the groundwork I laid with him one-one-one, not catching fish. My prayer is that his brother will be able to do the same thing.

And that’s where the part about not always getting it right comes in. You have to understand that you’ll get things wrong. You won’t answer all the questions completely, or even in ways he’ll understand. You’ll fail to catch a fish. You won’t find a Steak & Shake. You’ll get lost on your way to the hiking trail. You’ll think you’re completely blowing it with this kid and wonder if you’re making a bit of difference.

But you are. Because you’re spending time together with your son, just him, sharing part of yourself. You’re showing him what it means to be a man by just being one, yourself. So when it’s time to open up God’s Word and explain to him why it’s so important to have integrity, humility, and dignity, maybe he’ll get the fact that you just want him to try every day to be like Jesus. And when he messes up, like he sees you doing every day, he’ll remember to bow his head and ask God to forgive him – again. And then he’ll try again, because he knows it’s okay to not know what he’s doing or where he’s going.

He has you, and you both have Jesus. And you have coupons for Steak & Shake.

This has nothing to do with anything else I’ve written about on this blog. But because normal life happens, even to people who think about theological matters most of the time, and since I’m in a particularly honest mood right now, I thought I’d share this little story. Plus, my family and I are on vacation right now and I don’t really feel like writing anything heavier.

This was going to be the summer I finally installed an electric attic fan. After eight years in our house, and a lot of time spent in the attic in February, I didn’t see the need to wait any longer. There’s a company that makes solar-powered fans, and Costco had two of their models at a great price. I got the kind that you can install against an existing “eyebrow” vent so there’s no need to cut into the roof.

That part was difficult enough. Out of the four vents our builders placed in our roof only one was accessible for a fan. Two were cut directly over support beams (Nice going, guys!) and another was too far out of reach. So that left the one that sits over the space above our upstairs bedroom. There’s just enough space between the bedroom ceiling and the actual roof to sit and install a fan. Plus, the vent hole is right in the middle of two support beams, creating the perfect installation frame.

With the help of our younger son, I had the fan installed in a day. But then there was the solar panel. It had to go on the roof, with the power cable snaking through the vent hole to attach to the fan motor. If you know me very well, you know that me and heights do not mix. I despise roller coasters and high places without railings or barriers. I’ve been on my roof exactly once and it’s not something I like to think about. The lowest access point to our roof from the ground requires at least a 12-foot ladder. The slant of our roof is steep, and the fan is mounted against a vent on the highest point of the house. This was going to be a huge challenge for me.

I asked a neighbor who has done roof work if he would help me with this part of the job and he agreed. And then he failed to show up. So being a man who wants to get things done and look at least somewhat capable, I decided to tackle my fears and get on that roof. With my wife and older son securing my father in-law’s creaky, old extending ladder, I started upward. And then I stopped.

If you have ever suffered from an uncontrollable, irrational fear, I don’t have to explain what the next couple of minutes felt like. But if not, imagine the muscles around your stomach tying themselves into knots. You break out in a cold sweat and your breathing comes in short, shallow gasps. My fingers clamped onto the ladder in a death grip and a wave of dizziness swept over me. All I could say was, “No,” as I shakily descended back to sweet Earth. That was it. There would be no solar panel installed that day.

That’s when Bev said, “Why don’t I try it?” Everything masculine in me immediately rebelled. And then I remembered she’s the one whose appreciation for a roller coaster is directly proportional to the likelihood it will kill you. She loves flying. She will try things that would never interest me. And I really wanted that panel installed. So I swallowed my pride and began to demonstrate to her how to screw the panel onto the roof, seal it with roofing tar, and thread the power cable through the vent. I would be safe in the confines of the attic to connect the cord and start the fan running.

It’s been several weeks now and our attic has remained noticeably cooler, even in Tennessee’s hottest June since the Kennedy administration. My appreciation for my wife is far greater than I can explain. And my awareness of my own weaknesses puts me in a humble place. I don’t know how, or even if, I’ll ever get over my fear of heights. But I also don’t think I’ll ever have as much of a problem asking other people for help when I’ve come to the end of my abilities.