Read Part 1.

Groupthink and Collective Self-Deception

In George Orwell’s classic novel, 1984, Winston Smith lives in a world completely controlled by the government, personified by the moniker, “Big Brother.” Everyone is conditioned to believe exactly what Big Brother says is true.

Self-Deception and the Christian Life

Have you deceived yourself? How would you know if you had? And once self-deceived, how would you correct the problem? Gregg Ten Elshof’s new book, I Told Me So: Self Deception and the Christian Life (Eerdmans, 2009), is a small but powerful book exposing the dynamics of self-deception. The very concept of self-deception implies some level of knowledge of the truth, otherwise it would simply be ignorance. Self-deception, then, is in some way a knowing or intentional lying to oneself. And we are all in danger of deceiving ourselves, both individually and when in a group. An examination of this phenomenon should make us wiser to its ways.

Individual self-deception

Jean-Paul Sartre characterized self-deception as the avoidance of rational standards of evidence whenever it suits our purposes. Ten Elshof explains that in self-deception, “I am both the deceived and the deceiver. I am deceiving myself if I’m managing my beliefs with no regard for the truth. I’m trying to manage my beliefs, but I’m not trying to move myself along toward true belief” (p. 25). We’ve all seen this in action. A mother doesn’t want to believe that her son is addicted to drugs, even though there is plenty of evidence available, and the conclusion is obvious to others. A pastor considers himself to be a loving husband and good father, even when his wife voices her feelings of loneliness, and his children leave home and church never to return as soon as they graduate from high school. The key here is that truth is replaced with feeling good, diminishing guilt, or some other adopted strategy that parades as a pursuit of truth, but is in fact not so.

How does self-deception happen? Dallas Willard suggests this occurs when an individual or group “refuses to acknowledge factors in their life of which they are dimly conscious, or even know to be the case, but are unprepared to deal with: to openly admit and take steps to change.” The result is “that what they say they believe, intend, and want is not borne out in life” (p. x). Part of self-deception, then, is the ignoring of avenues of truth, whether it is the counsel of others or evidence that one does not want to face.

“Awake, awake, Deborah: awake, awake, utter a song!” (Judg. 5:12). My college friend read me this verse. He had been praying about getting married. All of us Bible college dorm students had been praying about getting married. The Lord had told him to marry Debby. As he was praying for guidance, he opened his King James and his eyes fell upon this verse. It had to be God’s direction. I replied that it was a good thing he was in love with a Deborah. If he had been in love with a Gertrude, how could God have given him direction?

Do you ever wish God would just come out and tell you what to do? Where should I go to school? Which job should I take? What should my major be? Should I have the surgery? Which car should I buy? Should I go to the mission field? Which mission field? Where should I go for lunch today? The list is endless. The options are confusing. A mistake can mean anything from an upset stomach to a life of regret. Doesn’t God want us to make the right decision?

While David was trying to avoid a confrontation with Saul, a Philistine raiding party was plundering the nearby harvest. Should David expose his location and engage the enemy? David’s men voted no. David asked God. God told David to go. How did God tell David to go? We are not told, but a little later Abiathar the priest arrived with “an ephod in his hand” (1 Sam. 23:6) and then David’s requests became even more specific.

Many Christians have never heard the Latin term sola scriptura. It means simply “only Scripture” or “Scripture alone.” It was probably the main war cry of the Reformation. Replacing sola scriptura (in reference to all of Scripture) with the Great Commission has resulted in a movement called Neo-Evangelicalism.

Having been in our new church ministry just over a year, my husband and I have kept very busy getting into the lives of our dear church people. While developing these relationships has found us in a number of settings, one evening it found us in the stands at a public high school basketball game cheering on a young boy from our church. We assumed it would be both fun and relationally productive. In the end, both results were accomplished … and, to our surprise, much more.

I guess you could say I’ve been “sheltered.” Having attended Christian school eleven years and home school for one, I was never faced with the constant negative influences prevalent in an institution whose motto doesn’t contain allusions to “the glory of God.” Furthermore, my parents, though never unreasonable, did their best to make me “wise in what is good, and innocent in what is evil” (Rom. 16:19, NASB). Given that as a backdrop, maybe my reaction to the half-time dance show isn’t too surprising.

I love to watch people. As the game progressed I took notice of the lively high-school students, the band (wow, what a talented bunch!), and the parents. The dance team gathering in the corner of the gym also caught my eye as they warmed up, giving me a taste of what was to come. Having a weakness toward sexual sins of the mind, I must work to suppress any curiosity in these matters and I knew viewing the upcoming dance show would not be beneficial. Thankfully, I had a good excuse to miss it, with my three- and four-year-olds needing a bathroom break. Trudging through the thick crowd while the dance routine began, I took keen notice of the spectators, young and old alike, whose eyes were glued to this entertainment. Frankly, I would have loved to indulge in a glance myself but God’s gracious leading prevented me. We continued to exit the bleachers but my mind was racing. Inside I wanted to yell, “Don’t you get it?! Need we wonder why there are so many broken homes, unfaithful spouses, or teen pregnancies? You make it too easy!”

A Lesson for Fathers

It was just a few weeks into my senior year in high school. I was sitting in Advanced Math class when the door opened and the school secretary motioned for me to come out for a minute. Oh, of course, that form, I thought. “Sorry, I totally forgot about that form! I’ll bring it tomorrow, I promise.” She shook her head as she again motioned for me to come out in the hall. “It’s not the form.” I got up and left, a little embarrassed in front of all my classmates and wondering what kind of trouble I was in—it was still pretty early in the school year for anything major.

Crossing the threshold from the classroom into the hallway, I saw my dad standing there. And as soon as I saw my dad, I knew I wasn’t in trouble. Yet I suddenly, sincerely wished I were, because the look on his face told me that whatever had prompted this visit was much worse than any trouble I could’ve been in. Today, I can’t remember exactly what he said, but I think it might simply have been, “Poppie’s gone.”

Respect earned

We had been quite a threesome, Poppie, my dad and I. Hunting, fishing, cookouts, football games—you name it. No grandfather was in better shape than mine. He was tough as nails. Exercised every day. Not afraid to stand up to anyone, in the right way—like the time he stood toe-to-toe with a man twice his size who had a reputation of being less-than-nice to his wife. No blows were struck, but none were needed. He knew the difference between a real man and a coward, and the coward backed down. His leaving us in his mid-sixties was a completely unexpected shock to everyone who knew him.

The Need for Wisdom

Through the ages parents have passed wisdom along to guide their children while young so that it might direct them as they mature.

Editor’s Note: This article is reprinted by permission from Getting Somewhere.

Hi, I’m Brent. And I am a recovering legalist. I’m looking for a support group for people like me.

I grew up in a Christian home, had parents who loved me and loved God. I went to church every Sunday, learned all the stories, gave my offerings—even went off to a Christian college. And I loved God—and I still do. But I had a problem— legalism. I didn’t know it was a problem, at least not for a long time.

I was addicted to “the list.” The list was made up of all the things that you were supposed to do and not supposed to do if you wanted to keep God happy with you. Most of the things on the list were good things—some of them even came right out of the Bible. But some of them didn’t. They were passed along to me from several sources, but mostly from the traditions of the church. Since I am not much of a rebel by nature, I had no problem with keeping the list. The problem was what the list did to my Christianity. It became way too much about performance, and not enough about reality. And “spirituality” became more of an issue of conformity than obedience.

And the list led to “the line.” The line was somewhere on the list. When a person kept enough of the list to make it to the line, he could feel good about himself, and about his supposed relationship with God. By measuring up to the line, a person could feel like he was good with God. And he could also feel like he was better than others. Think of it as spiritual arrogance.

^{Editor’s Note: This article was reprinted by permission from the IFCA’s Voice magazine (May/June 2009).}

Believers in America are contemplative these days. Though confident in the workings of a sovereign God who rules over the kingdoms of men, their mood has become increasingly somber as the political and economic pendulum has swung out of reach.

Is this a hiccup for America or a heart attack? Are our freedoms threatened or just our values and traditions? How should believers balance national and eternal interests? Are civic and spiritual tied together? How can one best serve his or her country as a Christian citizen?

I believe that if we reorient our thinking we can cheat the pensive gloom and rekindle hope. To do this, we must first explore the Creator’s principles in the ancient text of the Bible, and then take a walk back through patriot alley to explore the principles underlying this grand experiment called America. When we do, we will discover that we the people are the king, but that we the people / the king has a heart disease only the Great Physician can heal.

Editor’s Note: This article was reprinted with permission from Dan Miller’s book Spiritual Reflections. It appears here verbatim.

On the evening of March 30, 2002, in the city of Atlanta, Georgia, the Indiana Hoosiers upset the Oklahoma Sooners in a “Final Four” contest of the NCAA men’s basketball tournament. Following the game, Indiana coach, Mike Davis, credited God for giving his team the victory. “I have a lot of people praying for me,” he told the press, “God has placed his favor on me.”

Let me be the last to object to any praise going to God in the media. A man steps up to the microphone and declares that God factors into his view of the world, even the world of basketball—I’m with that! I lauded Mike Davis’ courage to proclaim his faith to the world on that occasion and I laud him still.

Yet I must confess my growing discomfort with the array of athletes and coaches announcing into a microphone their euphoric gratitude to God moments after an athletic victory over their opponents. My discomfort has nothing to do with bringing God into the sports world—he’s there anyway; kudos to those who acknowledge reality! My discomfort stems more from the message that may be subtly communicated by such public expressions of divine adulation.

That message, I fear, is that God plays favorites or doles out victories like a cosmic vending machine to those willing to acknowledge him publicly as the dispenser of their triumphs. I’m also troubled by the concern that thoughtful viewers will ask why God chooses not to answer the prayers offered in behalf of teams who lose. And why did, in this instance, coach Davis and his Hoosiers lose the championship game two nights later? Did the power of prayer fail between Saturday and Monday? Did God’s favor, which supposedly rested on Davis’ head on Saturday, dissipate by Monday night? Did coach Davis do something wrong on the Sunday sandwiched between those two game days?