When we, as the church, are discussing the key issues that people in this world talk about, there's a certain way we should approach any conversation. And if at any point during such a discussion should you be curious as to whether or not you're on the right path, just ask yourself a simple question: 'Is what I'm doing the exact opposite of the comic above?' If the answer to that is 'yes,' chances are solid that you're doing precisely as you should.

The internet is a wonderful place for countless reasons. But when it comes to theological pursuits, far too often we're given the type of analysis that the above cartoon gives us. When it was first passed around Facebook yesterday by, seemingly, 75% of my friends, I was initially irritated. The more I got to thinking about it, however, my irritation turned into something much more.

If we went into all the reasons why you and I and everyone you know should be offended by it, we'd be here all day. So let's forget for a moment that commenting on abortion in a cartoon is much too flippant for such serious subject matter. And let's forget that the 'God' of said comment has the attitude of a teenager who's trying to convince his parents that he really did try on that test he got an 'F' on. And for the moment, let's ignore that the message that the comic conveys is somewhere between idiotic and un-provable, depending on your theological bent. Instead, let's simply deal with what seems to be the most pressing issue at hand:

Stuff like this doesn't work. At all.

Let's say, for a moment, that you, like me, believe that God values the sanctity of life, even of the unborn. And let's assume that you take seriously Jesus' instructions to love those around you in the same way that He loves you, and in doing so, it is your sincere hope that you can share the gospel of peace and hope with the world around you, inspiring others to become disciples of Jesus as well. If that's you (and by the way, if you're a Christian and the previous sentences don't describe you, it's time to re-evaluate what you think it means to follow Jesus), then I have an honest question:

How does this cartoon help you succeed in any part of what you're trying to accomplish?

It doesn't promote God's view of the sanctity of life; the God of this comic has thrown up His hands and decided the best approach to communicating this truth is to mouth off to someone who has an honest question about His ways. And it doesn't help spark a conversation with non-believers about why abortion may be wrong; instead, it's simply a zinger that makes Christians give each other digital high-fives and makes non-Christians either seethe or roll their eyes. And most of all, it in no way, shape, or form conveys that we love those people who have made choices in this world that we disagree with. In fact, it conveys the opposite - that we, as Christians, think so little of others that our time is best spent mocking them.

I think that's what Christians miss so often when we discuss something like abortion - we forget that the people we disagree with are human beings with thoughts and feelings and emotions. We pretend like we're the only ones who understand the gravity of what it means to have an abortion, and we portray ourselves as having all the answers to a question that, if only they would accept Jesus would magically become easy. The reason we feel like this, I'd imagine, is simple: we've never taken the time to actually have a real, honest conversation with those who have been faced with such a decision. Instead, we've created a caricature of what we think they must be like (foolish, unfeeling, selfish, etc.), and we've spent our time spreading the word to everyone who can pat us on the back for our observations.

It's time we stopped the nonsense. And when we stop doing things that divide us and, instead, realize that to love our neighbor we must love both the woman who chooses an abortion as well as her unborn child, maybe we can make some real progress. Maybe we can figure out real ways to help, support, and guide those who have made the serious, life-changing decision to carry their unexpected pregnancy to full-term, and maybe we can figure out real ways to share forgiveness, restoration, and redemption with those who have made the serious, life-changing decision to terminate their unexpected pregnancy. Maybe, if we could see that those on the other side of the aisle are people just like us whom God loves and sent Jesus for, we could realize that God's heart is broken not just for the loss of one life, but of two. And then, perhaps we could admit that God's heart breaks for our arrogance, flippancy and hard-heartedness as well.

Or, we can keep making and passing along cartoons. Either way.

It's up to you.

I was appalled. Judging from the standing ovation from the audience, however, I was in the minority.

That, of course, was not surprising - after all, I HAD chosen to go to a concert that I knew going in I would do anything but enjoy. I was invited by a dear friend and church member last week to see Rascal Flatts, a country music 'band' at Mizzou Arena in Columbia. And even though I feel for country music in general what I feel for vegetables (distaste bordering on disgust, even if most people my age don't agree), I chose to go because I like spending time with friends and church members.

The concert itself went roughly the way I assumed it would - the music was not my cup of tea, but everyone else seemed to be having fun and it was a neat experience, music aside. And then, with the final song, everything changed. The song itself was actually quite nice - it was called 'He Ain't The Leavin' Kind,' and while it was certainly cheesy, it was also clearly a song about God's faithfulness, even towards those who don't place their faith in Him. During the song, they projected scenes of churches and crosses and other religious imagery behind them, and while I won't be downloading it anytime soon, I appreciated the message that ended the night.

My appreciation turned into something else entirely, however, when at the very end, they changed the word 'He' (to denote God) in the song to 'they.' The imagery behind them changed from a church to an American Flag, and out trotted six U.S. Marines in full uniform. As the crowd went wild, their song extolling God turned into a song praising the faithfulness of the United States Military.

This was, sadly, not something that surprised me. After all, for many Americans, this country is God's country, and therefore, the people therein are 'God's people.' We are a Christian nation, and therefore, our military exploits must be God-inspired, and our soldiers must be God's servants. To so many people - good people, well-intentioned people - changing the words of a song praising God to praise the military was a nice gesture, instead of the insanity that it clearly was.

Now, please don't misunderstand me: I have zero -ZERO - issue with honoring our troops, both at home and abroad. Our veterans should be given the utmost respect for making the ultimate sacrifice for our way of life, especially when they may not agree with their leaders' politics. And between you and me, it makes me terribly upset to hear stories of veterans who go without medical care or homes or help adjusting when they return home after their active duty. If there's ANYONE our government should help, it's our soldiers who have risked everything to protect and promote its policies. 

But to place a United States Marine on an equal level with God is idolatry. And it's dangerous. When we think that America is a Christian nation and than Americans are God's people is not just wrong (America is a religiously free and neutral nation and God's people are those who are in God's kingdom through Jesus' grace and sacrifice), but it causes us to see the world in a way we were never meant to see it. If America is God's nation, that means other nations aren't, and it gives us 'permission' to fail to show compassion, mercy, and kindness to people of other countries. It breeds within us the arrogance that comes from believing that we've won the cosmic lottery by being born into God's 'chosen' borders, and it stops us from rightfully seeing Jesus as a king of a kingdom that is not bound by time or space or political parties.

And more than anything, it blinds us to the inherent danger that comes from mixing God and government. That's a mistake that so many people over the years have made, including not so inconsequentially, a group of Jewish faithful who pledged allegiance to Rome in order to nail God's Son to two pieces of wood.

It's fine to be a patriotic, proud American. But know this: belonging to the United States has never meant that we belong to God, no matter how much we try to marry the two ideas into one.

And no matter how many people cheer when we do. 

Logically thinking, he should have known better. Of all the mistakes that he could have made, this should have been at the top of the 'do not do' list.

The reason is simple: no other event in the history of his people had been more significant than the Exodus. It was at this point that a group of slaves re-connected with their God and became a nation; it was at this point that they adopted the constitution of laws that would define who they were; it was at this point that the Jewish people became the Jewish people. And the events surrounding the Exodus became their most famous legends and stories: the crossing of the Red Sea. The Passover. The Plagues. Every Israelite knew that the Exodus was to Jewish history what the Revolutionary War is to Americans: a sacred, beloved piece of history that should be celebrated and remembered.

But for King Solomon, something apparently got lost in translation, because the one thing you would think he wouldn't do - enslaving a people group to build massive buildings for his empire - was the one thing he ended up doing. And he didn't just use slaves to build any old structure; he used them to build his temple for God. That's right - he forced other people to re-live his ancestors' darkest moments, and he did so in the name of God. That's as illogical as a group of Americans flying planes into a European skyscraper or a group of modern day Jews attempting to create a master race by exterminating everyone who didn't have brown hair. It wouldn't be just horrifying; it would also show a complete lack of self-awareness.

The truth is, whether Solomon realized it or not, he had become what he hated. Having been blessed with riches and power, he succumbed to the same temptations that his forefathers' enemies had when they were blessed with with riches and power. And so it shouldn't surprise us that this was just the tip of the iceberg of Solomon's corruption, and eventually, he didn't just make poor decisions; he made decisions that severed his relationship with God.

The sobering truth is this: we are all capable of becoming what we hate. All of us - Christian or otherwise - make decisions in our lives to become the people we want to be. But along the way, we're faced with the same temptations that confront all of mankind - even those whom we desperately want to avoid emulating.

That's why it's so important that we embrace the truth that we aren't just going through life with God's help, but that we go through life only because of what God has done on our behalf. We don't overcome the world because Jesus has; He has overcome the world for us. As human beings, we're flawed, weak, and in many ways, helpless.

Logically thinking, we should know better. But the truth is, just like Solomon, we will all, at one time or another, become the very thing that we hate. And it's times like that that we'll be forced to either try to recover on our own, or trust in the one who has earned our recovery for us.

As for me? I'll choose the one who's already done all the heavy lifting, the one who never succumbed to the temptations of man, and never partook in the actions that He so despised. I'll trust in Jesus. 

And that's because I know that I can be Solomon.