Month: March 2025

  • What Ricky Gervais, Jesus Christ, and the Apostle Paul Have in Common

    Fear of man will prove to be a snare,
    but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe.
    Proverbs 29:25


    Ricky Gervais is an English comedian who is well known as the creator of the BBC comedy series, The Office. Gervais has won seven BAFTA (British TV) Awards, five British Comedy Awards, two Emmy Awards, and four Golden Globe Awards. His standup performances draw large crowds and he has produced comedy specials for Netflix. He is one of the most prolific and successful comedic performers of the past twenty years. He also happens to be an avowed atheist.

    Gervais is perhaps best known, however, for his ruthless skewering of Hollywood elites as the five-time host of the Golden Globe Awards. As he opened the 77th annual show, he warned his glamorous (and nervous) audience: “You’ll be pleased to know this is the last time I’m hosting the Golden Globe Awards. I don’t care anymore.” He added, “I’m joking. I never did.” True to his word, he ripped into the assembled glitterati with his signature show-no-mercy humor. Nothing was off the table, to the camera-caught distress of many in the audience. After an especially devastating barb, he would respond to the audible gasps with “Shut up. Shut up. I don’t care. I don’t care.” It was a must-watch, made-for-television massacre.

    Disregard for his audience’s indignation is central to Gervais’ comedy. “I’m a scientist at heart,” he explains, “so I know how important the truth is. However inconvenient, however unattractive, however embarrassing, however shocking, the truth is the truth, and wanting it not to be true doesn’t change things.” Gervais is not about to pander to those who find his material offensive. “Someone not liking my work doesn’t mean I have to give the awards or the money back. People who don’t like your work have no effect on you.” On the contrary, Gervais sees outrage as an expected reaction to truth-telling. “Offense is the collateral damage of free speech.” His comedic sensibilities have won a huge following, although there are no doubt many who will not miss his face during awards season.

    Jesus isn’t generally known as a comedian. His brand of humor is more of the cosmic kind: the long set up, the apparent defeat, the turn-about punch line. (Nobody pulls off a resurrection like Jesus.) He could fire off a zinger when he wanted to, but he was more into the slow burn. As an entertainer, Jesus was unparalleled. Thousands would gather to watch him perform, especially if refreshments were served. People loved his earthy stories—and the potential for free healthcare. Unlike Gervais, Jesus was a full-on theist.

    Yet, like Gervais, Jesus could ruffle a few feathers. His audience didn’t always appreciate it when he aimed too close for comfort, and his disciples sometimes felt the need to point that out. On one occasion, Jesus delivered a trademark line to upend a common assumption: “What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them.” The Jewish religious leaders in the crowd didn’t think it was very funny. Afterward the disciples came to him. “Do you know that the Pharisees were offended when they heard this?” Jesus replied, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots.” For Jesus, offense wasn’t merely the “collateral damage of free speech.” Sometimes it was the whole point.

    Jesus was not cowed by the tyranny of public opinion like so many in his audience were. Many even among the Jewish leaders believed in him, but for fear of the Pharisees they would not openly acknowledge their faith. As John writes it: They loved human praise more than praise from God. Jesus confronted this issue directly. “How can you believe since you accept glory from one another but do not seek the glory that comes from the only God?” Even the noteworthy Nicodemus succumbed and kept his fledgling faith under cover of night. For Jesus, on the other hand, public approval or disapproval meant nothing. “I do not accept glory from men,” he flatly declared. John put it in a nutshell: While Jesus was in Jerusalem at the Passover Festival, many people saw the signs he was performing and believed in his name. But Jesus would not entrust himself to them, for he knew all men. He did not need testimony about mankind, for he knew what was in a man. This disregard for public opinion eventually got him killed—or shall we say cancelled. But that, of course, was part of the joke.

    For many the Apostle Paul is one of the most offensive performers of all. To the culturally enlightened, he’s the Andrew Dice Clay of Christian dogma whose takes on women, homosexuality, and slavery are regressive at best. Paul was an equal opportunity offender. Even his staunchest allies admitted that his material often got him into a lot of trouble. His letters contain some things that are hard to understand, noted Peter, which ignorant and unstable people distort, as they do the other Scriptures. To say that Paul was a funny guy might be pushing it a bit, but his short-fuse, in-your-face persona was every bit as controversial as Gervais and Jesus. He was not inclined to tip-toe on eggshells; his mantra was straightforward: Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. Paul would have been a prime candidate to host the Golden Globes.

    Like Gervais and Jesus, Paul had little concern for public opinion. I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court, he asserted. Indeed, I do not even judge myself. Paul saw disregard for public opinion as a requisite for his very mission. If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ. He understood that Christians can face some tough crowds, but that’s just the way it goes. He exhorted young Timothy, Do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner. Rather, join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God. Believers are not to be kowtowed, as he reminded Timothy: God has not given us a spirit of timidity. Ultimately, Paul shared Gervais’ conviction that “the truth is the truth.” For this reason, he proclaimed, I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes. For his audacity Paul ended up in chains, but for him prison was just another stop on the tour.

    Considering the company he keeps, Ricky might want to reconsider his theological perspective.

  • The Profane Power of Prayer

    Then the Lord relented and did not bring on his people the disaster he had threatened.
    Exodus 32:14


    When I was in second grade, I took judo lessons at the local YMCA. Once a week we donned our white judogis to practice flips and falls. I’ve never been much of a fighter, so I didn’t exactly enjoy the sport, but I did learn how to leverage my opponent’s weight and momentum against him and fling him to the mat. At recess one day, a big third-grader began to bully me to impress his gang. My smaller pack timidly stepped back to observe my humiliation. I have no idea how it happened, but as the thug came to shove me, I grabbed his arm, thrust out my hip, and slammed him to the dirt. The onlookers were as shocked as I was, but I looked down at my vanquished foe and said, in the levelest voice I could muster, “I know judo.” The third-graders never bothered me again.

    I don’t know if Jacob employed any martial arts when he wrestled the angel, but he held his own and was able to force a capitulation from the superior (and no doubt irritated) heavenly being. That’s one way it can go with God. Prayer can sometimes be a straight-up David and Goliath thing. The lowly human faces off against the Almighty with no more than a dance belt and a tube of Chapstick and attempts to muscle a concession out of him. God actually loves a good fight. He stands in the ring and calls out, “Is there anybody here who will go toe-to-toe with me?” The crazy thing is that sometimes a foolhardy human actually wins. For all his might and sweeping sovereignty, every so often God can be made to cry uncle.

    Sometimes God just has to be told no. It’s not that he’s wrong; God is always right. As the psalmist writes, The Lord is righteous in all his ways. But sometimes he has to be reminded of what’s in his best interest. For example, while Moses is hanging out with God on Mount Sinai, Aaron and the gang at the bottom decide to forge a golden calf and party down. God is not happy. “I have seen these people,” he tells Moses. “They are a stiff-necked people. Now leave me alone so that my anger may burn against them and that I may destroy them. Then I will make you into a great nation.” Moses (probably mindful of what a pain having his own nation would be) replies, “Why should your anger burn against your people, whom you brought out of Egypt with great power and a mighty hand? Why should the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that he brought them out, to kill them in the mountains and to wipe them off the face of the earth’? Turn from your fierce anger; relent and do not bring disaster on your people.” God decides that Odd Moe has a point and calls off the massacre. Whether that ultimately turned out to be a good thing is still open to discussion. But that’s a different story.

    King David also had to tell God to chill. In one of the weirdest of many weird accounts of the Old Testament, we are told that God incited David to take a census of Israel and Judah. (In the later Chronicles culpability is shifted over to Satan to avoid an awkward conflict of interest.) And so, against the counsel of his military chief, David counts the fighting men of his kingdom. This arouses God’s anger—go figure—and he offers David a multiple-choice punishment. David opts for three days of plague in the land, and God sends an angel to administrate the outbreak. After 70,000 innocent people have died, David finally appeals to the Lord. “I have sinned,” he points out. “These are but sheep. What have they done? Let your hand fall on me and my family.” David builds an altar on which he offers sacrifice, and the Lord pulls the plug on the plague. It appears that sometimes God can actually take no for an answer.

    The Moses and David incidents point to the astonishing—and sobering—power that prayer has to alter the course of judgment. Divine justice rewards the righteous and punishes the wicked. It is, by definition, both impartial and inexorable. God neither punishes the innocent nor lets the guilty go free. The fact that God is just is fundamental to his character. As Paul writes to Timothy, he cannot disown himself. For him to withhold either reward from the righteous or punishment from the wicked would be unjust and would call into question God’s very nature and character. In other words, it is impossible for the true God to forgo the dictates born of his being.

    Which brings into sharp focus the blasphemous privilege and power of intercession. To the prophet Ezekiel God laments, “I looked for someone among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found no one.” This is one of the most poignant confessions in all of scripture; it reveals the unbearable problem of a God who is both just and loving. God is compelled by his infinite justice to destroy the land and its inhabitants, but he does not want to. He searches for someone who will stand between himself and himself, to advocate both for the land and argue against punishment. What is remarkable is that God himself seeks to be resisted. The tragedy is that resistance was not then to be found.

    Of course, the perfect advocate did come, the Son who is sent into the world. As Isaiah declares, He saw that there was no one, he was appalled that there was no one to intervene; so his own arm achieved salvation for him, and his own righteousness sustained him. The Cross is the crux of God’s advocacy against himself. Jesus is the supreme mediator between a just God and humankind. But in Christ the saints are awarded the same audacious power to stay the hand of inexorable judgment. We, too, are awarded the privilege of altering the unalterable. God does not show favoritism, Paul asserts, but as James reminds us, the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. Through prayer the saints can stand between divine intention and execution, challenge the sovereign God, and perhaps, just perhaps, change the course of destiny.

    Engine against th’ Almighty, sinner’s tow’r,
    Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear
    from “Prayer” by George Herbert