Dr. Michael D. Halsey
“COKE CAN CHRISTIANITY”
(JULY 4, 2004)
INTRODUCTION
On Christmas Day, 1989, a family stands, all lined up, outside on a street and facing them are men with guns. Around them are the bullet- pocked walls of buildings that had endured the ammunition of a revolution.
The man in the line with his family has ruled Romania with an iron fist. As with most all dictators, his time has come. When the execution squad executes its orders, Romania will be free. Free, free at last.
But then the question comes: What are you going to do with your freedom?
We look at the America, the great inheritor of the culture of the West. Forged from the Greek democratic ideals, coming down through Rome, intertwining with the great thrust of the German and English Reformation led by Luther, Zwingli, and Tyndale, to name a few. America has produced a country which has offered more freedom and more opportunity to advance than any other in the history of the world.
George Orwell wrote a book called “1984.” He wrote it in 1948, and some believe that he just reversed the numbers of that year to come up with his title. In the book, he foresaw a totalitarian state over Britain, with Big Brother as its head.
Yet when 1984 came and went, we in America were enjoying great freedom, as were the British. So if Orwell was predicting the year, he missed it. Each generation has to answer the question, “What are you going to do with freedom?”
When I was in college, something called “academic freedom” was a big deal. Also big at the time and a little later was something called “The Free Speech Movement” at Berkley. Not only that, but any thespian, any author, worth his salt will shout “artistic freedom and freedom of _expression” till the cows come home. Freedom abounding.
There’s an inherent problem in freedom: it carries with it the freedom to waste it. I wonder if that’s not what’s happening. Our “freedom of _expression” produces “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” which serves as a metaphor for a complete waste of freedom. Our freedom of _expression produces the “art” of Maplethorpe, while our literary freedom wastes itself in the perverse and celebrates the ugly.
In a revealing answer to the question posed to former President Clinton, “Why did you do what you did?” He replied, “Because I could.” I suppose the idea was, “I had the opportunity, I had the freedom, so I did it.”
In freedom of _expression, our music celebrates the vulgar and the violent. We have the freedom to watch the debased; to listen to what is debased. We seem to be a willing public for depravity. Is there is anything so vulgar that we won’t sell it? We demand decadence.
When television was emerging, Britain did something that sounds quaint to us today. Right at the start, those in charge of British Broadcasting Corporation put this inscription on their building:
“This temple of the arts and muses is dedicated to Almighty God by the first governors of broadcasting in the year 1931, Sir John Reith being Governor General. It is their prayer that good seeds sown may bring forth a good harvest, that all things hostile to peace or purity may be banished from this house, that the people, inclining their ears to whatsoever things are beautiful, honest and of good report, may tread the paths of wisdom and righteousness.” (“Christ and the Media,” pg. 25)
In 1948, Sir William Haley, the Director –General of the BBC said of England, “We are citizens of a Christian country, and the BBC—an institution set up by the State—bases its policy upon a positive attitude toward Christian values. It seeks to safeguard those values and to foster acceptance of them. The whole preponderant weight of its programmes is direct to this end.” (Ibid, pg. 18).
In Romania, they’re free at last. So what was one thing they did with the new freedom? They used it to print pornography everyday in the newspaper.
On July 4th, we think of those who have gotten their legs and arms blown off; those who have given their lives for our freedoms and I wonder if you could go to them and talk to them, what do you think they’d answer if you asked, “Why did you do that?”
There’s one answer that, because of what appeared on the editorial page of the Atlanta paper that I don’t think they’d give. Phil Latham (editor of the Marshall, Texas “News Messenger”) writes that network executives are planning a new reality show. They plan to pick out some very “religious” teenagers, Amish, in fact. They plan to pick the most devout, the ones most in tune with God, those who care least about things in the world. So they won’t be just any kids. These will be teens who have never seen a TV set or driven a car, never gone to a movie.
Then they plan, for the TV show, to take the kids to New York City. (They even have a working title for the new show: “Amish in the City”). They plan to show these country kids sights they’ve never seen before. The purpose of the show isn’t educational, that is, to show the art museums or the great and historic places. That’s not where they’re going to take them, and that’s not why they are there.
The purpose of the show is to take these kids and see if they can crack their faith; get them to sin, turn their back on God, all on TV. That’s what they think you and I will watch’ that’s what they think will bring in the ratings. Their stated intent is to make them look foolish and to get their faith to crack. (Remember, at the inception of television what the goal was, as the BBC inscription said?-- , that the people, inclining their ears to whatsoever things are beautiful, honest and of good report, may tread the paths of wisdom and righteousness.”
Did our soldiers lose arms and legs, did wives lose husbands and children lose fathers so we could take our freedom and do that with it—see if we can get Amish teens to crack?
But, in the final analysis, (let’s be realistic here) -- all I’ve said isn’t going to be heard by the nation. What any church says today isn’t going to be heard by the “nation.” It’ll be heard by individuals, but not the nation.
It seems to me that it’s easy to point our ecclesiastical finger of accusation at the nation and tell them to wear the scarlet letter because they’ve wasted their freedom to produce Texas Chainsaw Massacres in so many areas. We can’t talk to the nation on this 4th of July, but we can sure talk to ourselves about wasting freedom. I guess we can pretend we’re “talking” to the nation, but even if we think we are, the nation isn’t listening.
Church time. It’s easy, free, and comfortable. Church time, and the living is easy. We have no fear at church time. That’s because we have that great thing called freedom, and we’ve had all our lives. We have no idea what it’s like to go to church in fear (except maybe when money sermons roll around; those can be scary).
All this freedom, but the thing is, instead of haranguing the nation for wasting it on Texas Chainsaw Massacres, is it possible that we waste it too? Does it seem like a waste of freedom for us to argue over things? Things like:
Whether it’s right or not to eat at church (so some churches used to build fellowship halls, next to, but not touching, the church building)
Whether it’s right or not to be baptized in any place other than a church baptistery
Whether it’s right or not to drink Coke from a can (this waste of freedom argument came about because of the KJV’s mistranslation of I Thess. 5:22, which the more modern translations have [thank goodness] corrected)
Whether it’s right or not for women to go on a date without a chaperone
Whether it’s right or not for a woman to ride a bicycle
Whether it’s right or not to play/watch sports on Sunday
Whether it’s right or not to read the Sunday paper (on Sun.)
Whether it’s right or not to do magic tricks
Whether it’s right or not to go to an opera (other than opera’s being completely unintelligible and boring, what’s the problem?)
Whether it’s right or not to ride a motorcycle
Whether it’s right or not to eat in a restaurant that serves alcohol
Whether it’s right or not to hunt for sport
Whether it’s right or not to use household appliances
Whether it’s right or not for Christians to be on the radio, to have Christian programming on the radio
Whether it’s right to wear buttons on clothes
Whether it’s right or not for a woman to wear cosmetics
(Most of the above list comes from “Christian Liberty” by Rex Rogers)
Heated, angry, lose friends; mind-numbing debates in churches have taken place over all of those things at one time or another. Do you think Christ died to establish a people who would argue over drinking Coke from a can? (Whenever I have a tendency to get all hot and bothered over an issue, that’s question I need to ask myself—“Did Christ die so that I could argue with other believers over whether I can read the Sunday paper on Sunday?”
But “What are we doing with our freedom?” isn’t really the big question. The really big question is, “How do we know what’s worth doing with our freedom?” That’s the real issue. For the Christian, only the Bible can tell us.
I once had the misfortune to drive an unairconditioned pickup truck on a ten hour round trip in the Texas heat in August. The one thing I remember about that trip was that on the way back, I got extremely thirsty. I don’t ever remember being that thirsty. It was one of those “thirstys” that no Coke, Pepsi, or Dr. Pepper in the world can slake. This was a raging lust for pure, clean, cold ice water by the bucket. Only water could vanquish that thirst. I stopped at a café and ordered water, ice water, as much as they would bring me, as fast as they could bring it. When I drank all I could, I took all I could and hit the road and kept drinking.
Once, a long time ago, God used a man and a glass of ice water to answer the question, “How do we know what’s worth doing with our freedom?”
In I Chronicles 11:15-19, David is at war with the Philistines. He and some of his men are in the Cave of Adullam, while the Philistines are camped in the Valley of Rephaim. David gets a craving. He gets thirsty for the water from the well at Bethlehem, the place where he was born and raised. He remembers how good that water was.
He mentions how he’d like to drink some water from the well there. Of course he can’t right now because there’s a garrison of Philistines there. But David has some fiercely loyal soldiers and if he wants water, that water, they’ll get it for him or die trying.
Three of the men leave, penetrate the enemy lines, get the water, and return. They bring the water to David, and as David looks at it, he has exactly what he wanted. (We can wonder if David expected anyone to take his request seriously, perhaps he simply made an offhand remark, like we might say, “I’d sure like to have a BMW,” but we know it’s never going to happen.) I knew a fellow whose wife always had to be careful about saying that she wanted something—he’d go out and charge it, and they’d get in massive debt.
When he looks at the water, he realizes that these three men have risked their lives to get this for him; he compares this water to their lives that they put on the line for him. He looks at the water; he looks at the men, and then he pours it out on the ground as an offering to God.
What David has just done is extraordinary. Did he have complete freedom to drink that water? Definitely. But if he had, he knew that he would only be indulging himself and he wasn’t going to use his freedom for that. Instead, he did the highest thing with the water that could be done—he poured it out as an offering to God as a “thank-You” for bringing these men back alive.
Isn’t that the answer? What’s worth doing with our freedom?—giving it to God. We’ve got this wonderful glassful of the cool, clear waters of freedom and what do we do?—do argue over cosmetics, motorcycles, and bicycles? We’re finite, limited, and without God’s telling us what’s worth spending our freedom on, we don’t know, and we’ll spend it arguing over Coke cans.
There’s a New Testament equivalent to this—Paul in I Cor. 9:19-23. Here Paul says that although he’s quite free, he’s going to give his freedom to God and he’ll serve others to win some of them to Christ.
What great thing—now we invest our freedom in what God is doing. And what God is doing is calling out a people for His name and making them like Christ (discipleship). What is God doing?—Matt. 28—making disciples.
But the problem (and you know it as well as I) is that when I’m involved in Coke can Christianity, when I’m arguing over buttons or bows, motorcycles or make-up, I don’t think it’s Coke can Christianity because to me it’s a major deal. What’s the solution?
I’ve got to be willing to let God tell me what’s worth spending my freedom on. Since He says it’s becoming and making disciples, then that’s it. It’s settled. Since that’s what He says, then all my Coke cans are out, and I can just keep them to myself and then, in a while, I forget about them, and on down the road, I look back and the Coke can looks silly to me, and I think, “I’m sure glad I didn’t get all hot and bothered over that!”
That’s what I like about God; He keeps it simple. You’ve got your freedom; now keep the main thing the main thing: become and make people into followers of Jesus.