Recently, a conversation with my six-year-old son brought a rueful smile to my face. He insisted that we South Africans live in the safest country on earth. He listed the many perils that buffet the planet, but from which our remote nook of real estate is exempt: earthquakes, hurricanes, volcanoes, avalanches, blizzards, tsunamis, and famine. (Gotta love National Geographic documentaries).
Our nation has also serendipitously been spared many fearful atrocities such as genocide, invasion, nuclear fallout, civil war, and even coups d’états (quite an accomplishment considering the fates of many in our volatile continental neighborhood).
We could easily boast in this safety if it weren’t for one minor factor that negates all the others: us. Our problems are almost entirely generated by our own population.
I’m a Lead Pastor.
I’m a seminary student.
I’m not crazy.
Why in the world am I chasing a Masters in Divinity, one/two classes a semester—for nearly 4 years and more to come—when it is not going to land me a ministry position?
Attempts to prohibit the exploitation of child brides have repeatedly failed. A 2009 law setting the minimum age at 17 was repealed the following day, after sharia (Islamic law) opponents tarred it as an un-Islamic Western agenda. But such setbacks shouldn’t stop Western Christians from lobbying the international community to support legislation to end child rape disguised as “marriage.” Laws can’t change hearts, but they can reign in satanic customs.
It is absolute and obvious common knowledge that teenagers are questioners and arguers. It’s totally annoying sometimes, but it’s a truly excellent thing. It’s an indication of deeper humanity, blossoming in a new and fuller way. It’s the beginning of a child’s ability to do a uniquely human thing: it’s the beginning of reason.
David Murray shares 10 misconceptions of what a preacher is.