Now when they had passed through Amphipolis and Apollonia, they came to Thessalonica, where there was a synagogue of the Jews. And Paul went in, as was his custom, and on three Sabbath days he reasoned with them from the Scriptures,  explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead, and saying, “This Jesus, whom I proclaim to you, is the Christ.” And some of them were persuaded and joined Paul and Silas, as did a great many of the devout Greeks and not a few of the leading women. But the Jews were jealous, and taking some wicked men of the rabble, they formed a mob, set the city in an uproar, and attacked the house of Jason, seeking to bring them out to the crowd. And when they could not find them, they dragged Jason and some of the brothers before the city authorities, shouting, “These men who have turned the world upside down have come here also, and Jason has received them, and they are all acting against the decrees of Caesar, saying that there is another king, Jesus.” And the people and the city authorities were disturbed when they heard these things.

Acts 17:1-8 (ESV)

As of late, I’ve been reading The Gospel in a Pluralist Society, where Lesslie Newbigin very clearly articulates the tension between the need to relate to society and the danger of becoming subject to society; in this respect, the phrase “in the world but not of the world” may easily come to mind. Christians have a definite responsibility to engage the world around them as well as the solemn warning to remain “unpolluted by the world” (James 1:27). The question that must be asked is this: how can Christians effectively reach out to their culture without bowing down to its idols?

Newbigin points out that society is—and always has been—subject to what sociologist Peter Berger has called “plausibility structures,”certain frameworks of belief and practice which determine the validity of the various ideas and truth claims one might encounter (8). For centuries, the reigning plausibility structure has been the modern, rationalistic metanarrative (which only recently has begun to exit Western culture, though it has by no means disappeared entirely). Given this, through some careful introspection Newbigin came to the eventual realization that, in his desire to make Christianity relevant and appealing to modern minds, he had begun to “domesticate” the Gospel, attempting to fit it ever so neatly into the dominant plausibility structure which acclaimed reason and science as the only legitimate means of discovering truth (3).

This sheds light on how much of modern Biblical “scholarship” has been, in essence, nothing more than an attempt to reconcile the radical Gospel message with the plausibility structures of Western society; instead of allowing the Bible to scrutinize us, we have scrutinized it, throwing out so many Scriptural truths simply because they are not “plausible” to us in our modern, rationalistic paradigm.

It hardly needs to be said that the domestication of the Gospel strips it of its very power and thus is not a valid way of fulfilling the Great Commission. It is impossible to make disciples with a tamed, neutered message devoid of any subversion or challenge to existing worldviews. Yet at the same time, sound doctrine, when preached into a vacuum, accomplishes nothing; it is ineffective to merely assert Biblical truths from the street corner without making a responsible effort to impact people’s lives with the Gospel. In fact, the very nature of the Gospel demands that it be used as a sword to cut others to the heart rather than bricks out of which one builds his theological fortress.  As Christians, we have a responsibility not only to preach the Gospel but to make disciples—the application and appropriation of that Gospel to the people around us.

Our goal, then, is not to domesticate the Gospel, but to contextualize the Gospel, just as Paul did. This does not mean we “clean up” the Gospel to make it less offensive to the culture around us; to the contrary, we allow the Gospel to critique and undermine the very idols so enthusiastically worshiped in our culture. This of course requires some tact, and engaging the culture is no easy task; as Jesus said, we must be “shrewd as serpents but innocent as doves,” meaning that we are to be clever and perceptive, yet also above reproach. Our aim should be to participate in culture with the purpose of subversion rather than syncretism; the Gospel radically transforms life as we know it, and thus we should strive to also be known as “men who have turned the world upside down.”

So how can we go about contextualizing the Gospel? First, we cannot allow our Gospel to be viewed through the colored lenses of our society’s plausibility structure. Instead, let us allow our Gospel to be the very lens through which we see and understand all such plausibility structures. In this, we much more equipped for evangelism.

In this respect, it is most helpful to think of the Gospel as the over-arching Biblical narrative of creation, fall, redemption and restoration. God created a world which was good (creation) but has since been corrupted by sin (fall). Jesus came to atone for that sin (redemption) and is transforming the brokenness of this earth, until his eschatological return when everything will finally be set right again (restoration). When we think about our current cultural situation as part of this Biblical metanarrative, we can look at the values, institutions, and aspirations of our world and see the corrupting effects of sin in each area.

Communicating how sin has led to brokenness and devastation in our world is a good first step to proclaiming Jesus as the just judge and merciful healer, the agent of true change, and the rightful King who will make all things new when he comes in power. By showing the depravity and fallen nature of those around us, we demonstrate the need for Christ, and by drawing attention to the fact that our cultural standards are far less glorious than those of God, we undermine our society’s flawed system of values. Furthermore, by pointing out how good gifts from God (in creation) have been cheapened, corrupted and ruined (in the fall), we set the stage for God’s answer to the problem we’ve created.

We should ask ourselves three questions.

1. What are the values of our culture, to what extent do they reflect Biblical truth and how do they fall short of God’s standard?
    
2. What are the institutions or systems in our culture, how do they reflect God’s good creation and how have we corrupted them?
    
3. What are the aspirations and desires of our culture, how are they intended to be satisfied in God, and to what has our pursuit of satisfaction elsewhere led us?

In other words, Christians need to be able to demonstrate the difference between agape love and worldly “tolerance;” we must show how worldly standards of peace and non-violence fall short of God’s shalom. The idea is to see how we, as sinful human beings, are too easily pleased in certain worldly standards of “goodness” and how the infinitely good God has a higher, much more beautiful standard which is for our own well-being.

Also, we should show how the institutions of our society fall short of God’s purpose. We should treat marriage as a wonderful gift God has given us for our good—a gift which we have trampled upon, chauvinists and feminists alike. We ought to speak of government and authority structures as systems which, while corrupted by pride, greed and tyranny, were indeed intended for good, to protect the innocent and punish the wicked, with those in high positions serving the lowly.

In addition to this, we must recognize and display how our aspirations and desires are futile apart from Christ; we were created to worship, enjoy, and find complete satisfaction in God. After all, it is God who provides for us and sustains us; it is he—and ultimately he alone—who fulfills our basic human needs and desires for love, security and justice. Though we may try to seek satisfaction elsewhere, by other means (perhaps codependent relationships, the hoarding of wealth or global warfare, for example), we will eventually be left unfulfilled and empty unless we repent and believe in the Gospel.

And the Gospel? Simply put, it’s the overwhelmingly good news that Jesus triumphs in the end. It is the very answer to our broken, fallen world. It is the comforting fact that God, in his transformative power, is in the business of fixing our mistakes, restoring what we’ve destroyed. It’s the sobering message that though we have all rebelled against God’s rightful authority (and thus become his enemies) he has made a way for us to be reconciled.

This Christianity is no mere additive to our modern or postmodern plausibility structure. It is an entirely new plausibility structure which happens to be fundamentally different from anything we’ve ever experienced. We are not trying to force an oddly-shaped puzzle piece into a space in which it simply does not fit, nor are we trimming off the edges of our puzzle piece so that we can make it fit. The fact is that we’re operating with an altogether different puzzle. And what a puzzle it is! The humble are exalted, the exalted are humbled; the meek and mourning and poor in spirit are the very ones who receive blessing! Those who seek to be the greatest must serve the lowly. Those who seek to live must take up their cross and die.

Newbigin puts it quite well: “The Church…as the bearer of the gospel, inhabits a plausibility structure which is at variance with, and which calls in question, those that govern all human cultures without exception” (9). By taking a look at “gospels” of our culture, we may begin to demonstrate their utter failure to bring satisfaction, wholeness, peace, and justice to this world. And in doing this, we hope to lead a downcast, despondent and worn-out society to fall before the Most High God—the very One whose overtures they have so long ignored—in desperate and radical repentance. Let us be known, too, as men who have turned the world upside down.

°Reference: Lesslie Newbigin, The Gospel in a Pluralist Society (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1989)

I recently finished reading Mark as Story [link], a book which, despite its flaws, succesfully promotes a narrative approach to reading the Gospels. While the authors made some dangerous and unsupported theological statements, their overall treatment of the Gospel of Mark as a story was quite helpful and renewed my interest in the way humanity is shaped by narratives. Certainly, Graeme Goldsworthy’s According to Plan [link] made significant progress in helping a modern audience read the Bible as one big, unfolding narrative. Lately, however, I’ve been reading through The Drama of Scripture by Craig Bartholomew and Michael Goheen [link], a similar book which introduces the idea of a unified Biblical narrative as essential to evangelism in the postmodern world. Their work is founded upon the understanding that human beings are significantly shaped by stories—particularly over-arching, grand stories or metanarratives—and that the Biblical story is the only such metanarrative which is true, meaningful and liberating.

Dr. Goheen has an excellent grasp on the over-arching story which has shaped modern Western society; I heard him speak about a year ago, and by the end of the first day of his conference lectures, I felt like my mind was already operating over-capacity. Now that I’ve had some time to think through things, I am coming to see the extreme importance of understanding our cultural story—that is, our metanarrative—in respect to impacting our society with the Gospel.

Any given person can only have one metanarrative, though they may know a number of other stories. It is our metanarrative, in fact, which determines the way in which we view and interpret all other stories. Therefore, if we accept the metanarrative of modern society—a story rooted in the Enlightenment, where reason is the hero and scientific or technological progress makes for a “happy ending”—we will find that all other stories (including the Gospel of Christ) are subject to our greater, over-arching metanarrative. This very thing caused the rise of liberalism in respect to Biblical studies, where modernism very much shaped the way people read the Bible.

A person’s metanarrative is the lens through which he will view all other narratives; it is his gopspel. However, if the Biblical story is our metanarrative, it will effectively critique competing, false metanarratives (such as the modernistic gospel of rational optimism).

In this, we can see the goal of our evangelism is not to only preach the Gospel as a laundry list of truths, but to subvert the false gospels (or metanarratives) which deceive our culture. It is too easy to embrace certain Biblical truths as long as they “fit” our existing worldview; many people will accept Scriptural doctrines insofar as their metanarrative allows them to be accepted. Thus, we get Christians who go to Sunday church services but live self-centered lives devoid of fruit; Christianity has become a mere additive to their pre-existing metanarrative.

However, the Gospel of King Jesus is not merely a series of doctrines, but an altogether different foundational understanding of the word. It is a new metanarrative, and until people allow it to destroy their existing metanarratives, they will not experience its power. “You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 2:22-24 ESV).

With that being said, the present-day difficulty is postmodernism—”an incredulity toward metanarratives,” as famously defined by Jean François Lyotard. Because our society so blindly submitted to the false gospel of modernism, rationalism and humanism, we are now reaping what we have sown; from wreaking environmental havoc to creating weapons of mass destruction, our modernistic metanarrative has led us to despair. Thus, postmodernism recognizes the betrayal of the modernistic gospel and is highly skeptical, therefore, of all such metanarratives; any over-arching story which serves as a source of meaning and hope is highly suspect.

Of course, postmodernism is really a metanarrative of its own, as it defines the way in which we view the world; however, in this story, the antagonists are metanarratives themselves. To reach resolution, all such metanarratives must be reduced in power—they must become “just another story” rather than an over-arching gospel—and only when this happens, postmoderns believe, can society be truly free from danger. This explains why phrases like “whatever works for you,” “who are you to judge?” and “all roads lead to God!”  have become so immensely popular as of late.

What this leaves us with is a sense of meaning which finds its root in tolerance, passivity, and ignorance. Ultimately, it will only bring further confusion and despair. Yet for now, as evangelists, we face the dilemma of promoting a metanarrative—a radical one at that—to a world whose existing metanarrative tells them that we’re fools. If we’re going to have success, we must embody the gospel in all that we do—to truly allow it to become our metanarrative—and to live life in such a way that the truth of the Biblical story is made evident in our actions. Preaching the Gospel must involve the systematic teaching of doctrines, to be sure, but the power of the Gospel itself must not be restrained nor hindered by our unwillingness to unleash its earth-shattering, life-changing, mind-blowing nature to the world.

Amid the comforting hum of our theological machinery, it is easy to talk about evil and suffering; academics see it as a logical problem and work toward an intelligent explanation. Yet a world stricken by violence, poverty, and oppression does not seek after lofty philosophical solutions to its real and ever-present anguish; it cries out in bitterness, grievingly demanding an answer from God himself. Certainly, if Christians profess faith in such a God, one all-powerful and wholly good, they ought to have an answer for those in pain. However, it would be foolish to pursue theodicy apart from the goal of comforting those who are hurting, and sometimes, the most appropriate answer to the sufferer is not one well-suited for the diligent philosopher.

With that being said, the book of Job is perhaps a commentary on this very difficulty; while there may be many theodicies found within its pages, it seems to have far more to say about how the problem of evil and suffering is dealt with than it does about the problem itself. To be sure, one can inspect Job’s example and conclude that justice prevailed in the end; God not only made restitution to Job, but Job found himself more abundantly blessed than he had been prior to his suffering. Likewise, we can demonstrate how Job’s affliction served as discipline and worked to transform him into a more righteous man; pain, in this situation, led to greater good.  Yet even the most well-reasoned explanation of his suffering would have been quite insufficient to Job amid his agony; a real, concrete problem of evil demands more than an abstract, philosophical answer. For this reason, in spite of the counsel of his three “friends,” Job cries out to God himself for a suitable explanation (31:35). 

In fact, the book of Job perhaps serves more as a critique of theodicy than a source of theodicy; Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar defended God’s justice, often with very logical arguments and sensible reasoning, and yet God said of them in the end, “you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has” (42:7 ESV). How can it be that the one with no answer to his own suffering is commended, while those with the best theodicies are under wrath?  Let the arguments of Job’s three friends first be considered.  

Eliphaz, the first to speak, offers a very simple hypothesis; “who that was innocent ever perished?” (4:7). Because Job is suffering, Eliphaz suggests, he must have sinned; thus Job himself is responsible for his own pain. This argument treats suffering as punishment and blames human freewill (as opposed to God) for evil; it would likely have resonated well with a Hebrew audience. However, not only does Eliphaz oversimplify the problem, but he becomes increasingly arrogant in arguing. He begins gently and obliquely, only indirectly referring to Job, but by his third speech, he does not hesitate to hurl insults and directly accuses him of specific sins.  Moreover, Eliphaz implies that he is somehow a prophet who has heard God’s voice and now speaks on his behalf (cf. 15:8, 22:22). Therefore, while Eliphaz offers what may seem like a decent theodicy, his ignorance is clear by the end of the book, and even worse, he does nothing to comfort his friend in need.

Bildad also offers a theodicy: “does God pervert justice?” (8:3). His argument is very pragmatic, insisting that if Job repents, God will restore his fortune; he even uses examples of history to demonstrate his point (cf. 8:8-19). However, as Job maintains his integrity, Bildad’s language intensifies. Certainly the idea that suffering may serve as a “wake up call” is valid; even Jesus uses examples of suffering to call people to repentance (cf. Luke 13:1-5). However, Bildad commits a logical fallacy by assuming that this is necessarily the case with Job, and again, the limits of his theodicy become evident.

Zophar does not offer nearly as complex an argument as the first two friends; in fact, one might wonder whether or not he gives any argument at all! Instead, he merely asserts himself (rather arrogantly, at that) and expects Job to change his mind. Like the others, he assumes that Job has sinned and thus is quick to clear God of any wrongdoing, yet he is perhaps the least compassionate of the three friends, verbally assaulting Job and even refusing to speak when his third opportunity arises. Therefore, whether he has offered an adequate theodicy or not is irrelevant; he is among the “miserable comforters” (16:2) who completely fail to listen to Job.

Certainly, the arguments of the three friends were flawed; assuming Job had sinned on the basis of his suffering is problematic. After all, if suffering always indicates sin, what might one say about Jesus? Perhaps the inclusion of Job in the Hebrew canon was to caution against this type of thinking. But is the book of Job critiquing only these three failed theodicies?  Or could it be that it demonstrates the limitations and weaknesses of theodicies in general? 

The Lord’s answer to Job out of the whirlwind could possibly be called autotheodicy. “Who is this that darkens counsel,” he asks, “by words without knowledge?” (38:2 ESV). As God begins to question Job, he reveals Job’s ignorance and limitations of understanding; “where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” (38:4 ESV). In fact, the entirety of God’s answer to Job is designed to emphasize man’s utter weakness and inability to comprehend the things of God. At the end of the day, Job recognizes that he lacks the wisdom to make sense of his suffering but finds comfort in the fact that the Lord’s ways are above his own understanding. If one is to use this lens, then, to examine the earlier speeches of Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar, it becomes evident why the Lord accuses them of speaking falsely; they boast of knowledge and understanding, yet they do not truly know. Furthermore, they hide behind their arguments as a means of avoiding the true responsibility of a friend: comforting the one who suffers.

Surely, the Lord’s speech to Job could be used to construct a theodicy based upon the sovereignty of God; the clay has no right to question its potter, one might remark (cf. Romans 9:20-21). Yet it would be foolish to take this argument and use it to escape the command to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15 ESV).  It was the three friends’ obsession with theodicy that rendered them “miserable comforters” to Job (16:2). This tendency to reduce evil and suffering to a purely rational problem—especially a problem to which one claims to possess the solution—is exactly that which the book of Job criticizes.

Of course, apologetics have a place in the academic world; to some doubters of Christian theism, a philosophical answer to the problem of evil in suffering may remove certain intellectual barriers to accepting the gospel. Yet no matter how strong the evidence may be, notwithstanding the most sound reasoning and logical argumentation, and despite  the most thorough and laborious philosophizing, one must realize that all theodicies are ultimately insufficient solutions to a problem that is far more concrete than anyone would like to admit. It is possible to have confidence in God’s goodness and justice, to be sure, but when it comes down to comforting those in pain—those who have truly, as Job, lost everything—sometimes the best answer one can give is simply, “I don’t know.”

As I was listening to the radio today, I heard that a recent study¹ found my hometown of Cincinnati to be #4 out of the top five manliest cities in America. However, here are the criteria for evaluation:

1. Number of professional sports teams.
2. Use of tools and hardware.
3. Frequency of monster-truck rallies.

That’s it; no joke. Finally, the keys to true masculinity have been made known to us. And, thank goodness, it only takes three things: sports, tools, and monster trucks.

While I fully realize that this study was for entertainment purposes only, I must say that I don’t buy into the idea that Cincinnati is a manly city. Sure, sports may reflect the fact that God made man with a natural drive toward mission and conquest. Tools perhaps reflect man’s God-given nature to build and restore. And monster trucks, well, they could reflect the passion for strength and intensity that, once again, God built into man. But “macho-ness” is not manliness, and, while I realize this study was not intended to be serious, our society has some fundamental misconceptions about masculinity that are leading us down a dangerous path.

In reality, most men in our culture have no idea how to actually be men; fathers aren’t instructing their sons, the public schools sure aren’t teaching it, and good role models are hard to come by. Look at the way men are presented on television sitcoms; husbands are generally into “macho” activities but also happen to be complete idiots with no idea how to take care of their wives and families (specifically, I think of Tim Allen’s character on Home Improvement or Kevin James’ character on The King of Queens, but there are plenty of other examples). Therefore, our concept of what is “masculine” involves much of the following:

• Red meat
• Poker
• Chest hair
• Grunting
• Flatulence & the infamous “pull my finger” trick
• Cars or, even better, trucks
• Beer
• Laziness
• Blood & sweat, but never tears
• Hunting
• Video games
• Intellectual and emotional shallowness
• Belly flab
• Primitive camping
• War, weapons and the military
• Clogging up the toilet
• Starting firesand, yes,  
• Sports
• Tools
• Monster truck rallies

Of course, not all of these things are necessarily wrong; however, when they supplant true masculinity, there is a problem. In fact, many of us try to fake real masculinity through them; we reject the purpose that God has given us and try to replace it with a few behaviors that we think will make us look like masculine men. To be sure, we can enjoy red meat, beer, camping, and sports, even to the glory of God, but when we turn to such things to escape our calling as men, we are only fooling ourselves. Poor masculine leadership is essentially what started and now sustains the feminist movement. This city needs men who will step up, be responsible and intelligent, provide for their families, lay down their lives for their wives, discipline and train their children, and, above all, preach the gospel. And unfortunately, I have yet to see this in any significant capacity. Sorry Cincinnati, I don’t think you’re really that manly.

I do want to add a caution, however, to what I’ve said. It’s quite easy to blog about masculinity and even make controversial statements that don’t go over too well in a hyper-egalitarian society. The difficult thing, however, is to practice what we preach. We are lazy, prideful, sinful human beings, and unfortunately, we can talk about masculinity all we want without getting anywhere. It’s easy to think that being masculine requires that we boldly announce our views of manhood to the world, but ultimately, the problem is not a philosophical one, but a pastoral one. It involves real people, not just ideas, and getting into arguments over the web is not only fruitless, but it often constructs unnecessary barriers between us and our opponents. Should we be bold and forthright about our convictions regarding biblical masculinity? Absolutely. I am not suggesting compromise. However, we must not sacrifice meekness in the name of boldness, and we must not reduce a relational problem to an academic one. Furthermore, our desire to see change should begin with the relationships around us. We want to fight battles that can be won, not battles that only serve to further escalate the war. In postmodern America, this will take some tact, but above all, it will require legitimacy, sincerity, dedication, and careful and intentional relationships with those around us. So, with that being said, who wants to go camping?

¹This study was apparently done by Sperling’s BestPlaces as part of a promotion by Combos snacks. Obviously it is not serious research.

This is my plea for men to start acting like men; our failure to do so has significantly hurt the cause of the gospel.

We all know the guy. Maybe he’s a metro-sexual worship band leader who sings cute love songs to Jesus. Maybe he’s the “nice guy” neighbor whose excessive optimism and pep makes you feel awkward at times. Or maybe he’s the bohemian who comes across as ultra-humble because he’s unwilling to take a stand on anything (unless, of course, it happens to be something as non-controversial as recycling or fighting poverty). He’s often likeable, and even quite admirable; he’s not like those rigid, hard-hearted, moralistic conservatives. But unfortunately, this new and popular form of “piety,” what I like to refer to as “passivity and puppy love,” is really nothing more than Pharisaism revamped.

How is this so? After all, didn’t we already distinguish this from legalisism and fundamentalism—the very soul of Pharisaism in America today? 

Yes and no. Externally, this new piety seems quite different. It appears much more humble and accepting than the rigid, judgmental Pharisaism we’re so used to. However, on the inside, it’s very much the same. This new piety has become, to us, in contemporary Christian culture, the ultimate display of righteousness. We’ve come to take pride in our “humility,” to actively pursue passivity and flee any type of conflict, and to reduce our relationship with God to a purely emotional experience. It is the new Pharisaism because, while appearing righteous on the outside,  it seeks self-glorification on the inside. We want, like the Pharisees, an appearance of righteousness, simply so that we can feel good about ourselves and have others pat us on the back. 

True humility is a very good thing; so is the ability to “turn the other cheek.” And emotion is a God-given gift with which we are supposed to glorify him. However, most of the time, we’re phonies. All of these genuinely righteous lifestyles are simply faked and counterfeited so that we may deceive others into giving us glory. 

Jesus rebuked the Pharisees for their long, verbose prayers, which were a showy display of their religiosity. When spiritual leaders try to bolster their prayers with emotional words simply for dramatic effect, is this any different? Is praying in a soft, calm voice more spiritual than speaking to God as we would normally speak? Don’t get me wrong; if the emotion is genuine, this is perfectly acceptable. But how often have we tried to emotionalize our prayers simply for the sake of looking more spiritual to others?

And what of our ultra-passive, non-confrontational tendencies? To most people, this appears to be humility. Yet when we refuse to take a stand on significant issues or purposefully avoid preaching the gospel, we’re only being prideful. We don’t want our reputation to be hurt; we don’t want to come off as intolerant. We think that our public image is more important that the truth of God’s word. We take pride in being the “nice guy” and don’t want to cause ourselves discomfort; we hate conflict and avoid it at all costs. We tithe our mint, dill, and cumin while neglecting weightier matters.

Thus, it is unfortunate that so many men have fallen victim to this sort of effeminate,  fraudulent piety. As C.H. Spurgeon once said, “Men who are easy as an old shoe are generally of little worth.” We’ve detracted from the majesty and might of the one true God and turned him into a giant teddy bear among other stuffed animals in the American Pantheon. How could anyone take us seriously? My prayer is that the gospel would convict us and that the Holy Spirit would change our hearts, leading us to a more full-bodied and sincere faith, as well as a more biblical masculinity.