It is clear that exposure to death has not helped our culture grapple with its consequences, and no where is this more clear than in the church.

We are a culture entertained by death, but we do not know how to grapple with its reality. By this I mean if you were to wrap this culture in a vault to be opened years from now, it would be clear by our entertainment that we are entertained by death. One is hard pressed to watch a movie or television production, with any amount of action, where dozens of people are not killed. Even a show like "Stars Wars", considered by many morally harmless, has characters that destroy thousands of soldiers in their quest for the ultimate good. However, it is clear that exposure to death has not helped our culture grapple with its consequences, and no where is this more clear than in the church. Most people in our pews have seen multiple images of death, but they are quite unsure as to its reality.

I have watched people die. As a minister, there are those occasions when I have been called upon to sit with a family and watch their loved ones die. I have often questioned my presence there and thought it awkward, but it seems to provide some comfort to have a religious presence at this tragic time. I do not find this necessarily difficult or strenuous. However, there is a moment that I dread with all of my being. It is the point when they look at me and ask that I pray for their lost loved one. Not a prayer for the family, but a prayer that says, "God, now that they are dying, please make it all better". My compassion wants me to wrap my words around their soul and fill them with all of the assurance that I have that their father, mother, son, daughter, brother, sister or best friend is safe in the arms of Jesus. Simultaneously there is the theological reality of heaven and hell. There exist this unchangeable reality of God's holiness that calls out from the core of my soul, and shouts to my compassion "You hypocrite! Is God just or not? Can you really lie to these people in the name of compassion?!" After dealing with this internal tension more than once, I am resolved that foremost, I cannot lie. I will love people and tell them they can always believe the best since they do not know, but I cannot lie. If dishonesty is dishonorable for a believer, "compassionate dishonesty" must be no different.

Why? What's at stake? Why not love them and leave them comforted? Let me deal with one implication of compassionate dishonesty here and another in a follow-up article. The first reason we cannot lie at hospitals, at funerals, and at gravesides, is that grief is one of few times in American culture where the secular pursues the spiritual. When does a pagan pick up the phone and call the church? He calls when he is ready to bury his loved ones. Here God has given what I believe is the greatest opportunity to preach the Gospel. They are not there Sunday, but on that Thursday afternoon, a minister has the opportunity to present the Gospel to many people who will never otherwise darken the door of the church. Oh, how we have failed. I honestly do not want to think about the millions of lost opportunities to engage the secular mind about their mortality. Allow me to make a seemingly unrelated connection.

In the United States, I have noticed that many unbelievers consider themselves believers, and have adopted "cultural Christianity". They do not attend church, do anything really Christ-like, they have no love for the things of God, but they would identify themselves as Christians. "Where did they get this idea," we often complain as Christians. The answer is simple; they got the idea that you could not follow Christ, yet go to be with Christ at death from the church. They are suspicious that "All dogs go to heaven", and then they come to their uncle's funeral, and here a minister in flowery tones expresses the fact that he is in heaven. "Well, if he is in heaven," they reason, "I am absolutely fine. He was a scoundrel, and everyone knows it." I am not advocating that we not have compassion. We must. However, if there are unbelievers in front of us, is not truth ultimately compassionate? Will we do them a favor by feeding them cultural morays instead of Biblical truth? It could be said therefore that the beast of cultural Christianity has been fed at the trough of clerical dishonesty. Call it compassion, it is cowardice. And, we must repent. Our God and our culture demand better. And it is this love for God that gives us other, equally compelling reasons to be honest, which we will deal with in a follow up article.

Oh Lord Help me to be compassionate, but help me to be honest. You called me to guard the trust of your Word, and honor your word above tradition. Your honor and people's souls are at stake.