In the past few years, I have been hurt deeply by the loss friends.  Some of those lost friends were once students in my youth ministry who have exchanged obedience to God for friendship with the World.  My heart is adrift in sorrow when I think of my former youth kids; minds now thoroughly entrenched in the reason of our Age.

In the name of “love” all manner of sinful behavior is excused.  They are no longer able to discern the Truth of righteousness, found in Christ, from the sensual allure of culture.  None will talk with me about it.  Most have quietly restricted me from their Facebook profiles so as not to cause a stir.  These loved ones isolate themselves from any reminder of obedience to Christ as they build the walls of protection against any biblical conviction.  Their walls have become a prison of their own making.

In thinking of these lost friends, I am reminded of the story told by C.S. Lewis in his autobiographical allegory, “The Pilgrim’s Regress” which tells the story of John.  John is imprisoned by a despair that is  built stronger by a worldview that rejects any notion of the Creator.  In the midst of despair, Lewis tells about one of John’s victories over his jailor.

Every day a jailor brought the prisoners their food, and as he laid down their dishes he would say a word to them. If their meal was flesh he would remind them that they were eating corpses or give them some account of the slaughtering, if it was the inwards of some beast, he would read them a lecture in anatomy and show the likeness of the mess to the same parts in themselves-which was the more easily done because the giant’s eyes were always staring into the dungeon at dinner time.  Or if the meal were eggs he would recall to them that they were eating the menstruous of a verminous fowl, and crack a few jokes with the female prisoner.  So he went on day by day.

Then I dreamed that one day there was nothing but milk for them and the jailor said he put down the pipkin:

“Our relations with the cow are not delicate–as you can easily see if you imagine eating any of her other secretions.”

Now John had been in the pit a shorter time than any of the other and at these words something seemed to snap in his head and he gave a great sigh and suddenly spoke out in a loud, clear voice:

“Thank heaven!  Now at last I know that you are talking nonsense.”

“What do you mean?” said the jailor, wheeling round upon him.

“You are tying to pretend that unlike things are like.  You are trying to make us think that milk is the same sort of thing as seat or dung.”

“And pray, what difference is there except by custom?”

In the name of “love,” many Christians are left shackled by the Age, unable to discriminate piss from milk—convinced, like the Jailer, that the biblical morals of God are nothing more than the passé customs of a bigoted generation.

Out of angst, rises my prayer that the lost children of our Father will allow the Holy Spirit to form in them the Mind of Christ, the chains of false “love” will be shattered, and the God who IS love will free his saints.

“The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. The spiritual person judges all things, but is himself to be judged by no one. “For who has understood the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?” But we have the mind of Christ. But I, brothers, could not address you as spiritual people, but as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ. I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for it. And even now you are not yet ready, ” (1 Corinthians 2:14–3:2, ESV)

Dr. Joe Miller (aka JR) is a Professor of Applied Theology and Leadership & Dean of Online Learning at Southern California Seminary. In addition, he is a church planter and coach for emerging leaders. Dr. Miller has a diverse educational background and authored multiple books on church history, biblical theology, and Leadership. Joe and his wife Suzanne enjoy the sun and surf with their 3 sons in San Diego, CA.

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