Called Up
By Family Minister, Dr. Brandon Steenbock
I don’t want to offend you.
I wouldn’t want to turn you away by saying something that makes you uncomfortable.
It’s really important to me to be sensitive to your background and your viewpoint.
I am choosing to be kind.
But what I really mean is this…
I don’t want you to get angry at me, because conflict makes me uncomfortable.
I don’t want you to call me intolerant, bigoted, or wrong.
It’s important to me to be relevant.
I am choosing compromise over conviction.
I’m afraid of being told I’m the bad guy—and not being sure if it’s true or not.
Because I’m not entirely sure of my identity, belonging, and purpose.
I’m not really sure if standing on the truth is the right thing, because I’m not really convinced of the truth.
This is the place many Christians find themselves today.
Fearful. Uncertain. Trying to be relevant.
Compromising in an effort to make friends with a world that will never really be friends with us.
By the way, I’m not talking about being both winsome and faithful to the Word.
That’s a gift some people have, and when they do it well, they win hearts for Christ that otherwise feel turned away by the Church.
Praise God for that.
I’m talking about the crooked place we find ourselves when we want so badly to be called “good” by a world that doesn’t even know its left hand from its right.
Or the weak place we find ourselves when we suspect our argument is going to get us in trouble with people who are already suspicious of us.
Or the truly wrong place we find ourselves when we decide that biblical truth matters less than being called “loving” by a world that doesn’t know what love even means.
Maybe you get my point, but let me illustrate:
Not too long ago, I was on a podcast, and they clipped a reel from it for social media. I saw the reel, and I saw a negative comment about what I said.
I wanted to argue.
I wanted to backpedal.
I wanted to explain.
I wanted to hide.
It kept me up at night—until I thought hard about it and realized that I had said nothing wrong.
What was I so afraid of?
What are you so afraid of?
Afraid of being called a bad name?
Afraid of being seen as backwards?
Afraid of being irrelevant?
Afraid of being wrong?
Afraid of losing a relationship, or a position, or credibility?
There’s a scene in my favorite movie, The Return of the King, based on Tolkien’s book of the same name. The Riders of Rohan have come to the greatest battle of an era. They look down on the masses of enemy troops before them, and they realize that to do what they’re there to do—to charge in and fight and kill the enemy—will cost them everything. Probably their lives. And for a moment, they hesitate.
Then their King calls them up.
When I say “calls them up,” I mean that powerful, gracious, steeling activity when a man says to other men, “You were made for this!”—and leads them to do the powerful, daring, dangerous, and awful thing that only they can do.
He gives a rousing speech. He urges them into battle. And then he shouts a word:
“Death!”
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
And each time, he waits for his men to call it out back to him.
They’re not afraid of anything.
Death? Guaranteed.
Victory? Uncertain.
Glory? Only if this last charge succeeds.
But meaning? Purpose? A reason to die?
They know this belongs to them.
Watch the clip. It’s worth it.
That’s a fictional moment, but it reflects the reality of history: Christians torn apart by lions in the Coliseum. Christians tortured. Burned.
Christians who went to war against hostile forces to guarantee that their lands would continue to be free for the preaching of the Gospel. Christians who faced deadly persecution for the truth.
And we’re afraid of a university student calling us bigoted online?
May it never be so.
Why were those believers so willing to go to the fire or the jaws of death? Because they followed a Captain and a King greater than Theoden. Greater than George Washington. Greater than any ruler or general who came before.
King Jesus. The Lord of lords. Who has already won the victory and given us everything. If we follow him, we only gain and never lose. So what are we afraid of?
I’m writing this for all of us—but especially for men.
Guys, our hearts are stirred by noble scenes of men willing to sacrifice everything to win the war, or love the girl, or protect the innocent. But then we take the truth of God’s Word that’s been put in our hands and we wonder if we should hold it out boldly.
Why?
What are we afraid of?
I saw a story not long ago about a pastor telling his congregation that they should stop calling Jesus “Savior” because it excludes people.
What was he afraid of?
And how many people sitting in his church heard this and thought, “I don’t think Pastor is right,” but sat back and said nothing?
What were they afraid of?
What are you afraid of?
It’s time to set aside fear.
You’re struggling with that sin that won’t shake?
Confess it. Get healing. Get accountability. Make a plan and move forward.
You hear your pastor say something unbiblical? Go tell him. (And for God’s sake—and I mean that—if I’m the one, tell me!)
You see something bent, broken, warped in our culture? Call it out, and speak truth to it.
You have a chance to share the Gospel with someone? Don’t wait. Do it today.
“Forth, and fear no darkness!”
Ride now, friends.
“Have I not commanded you?
Be strong and courageous.
Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged,
for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
— Joshua 1:9