The opposition to Moscow from various corners will likely continue in the days and months ahead. There is a happy momentum that is unhappy with speed limits. The fruitfulness of the worldview touching on every element of life is attractive. Until people see the Kuyperian batteries driving the Moscow train, they will remain dumbfounded about why a little town keeps driving the modern theological and political conversations.
The latest attempt by Baptist pastors to derail the Moscow train reflects a desperate movement to focus on minutiae in order to gain some cheap brownie points. But that case is doomed before it starts.
Christopher Hitchens did not need a sweet Wilson; he needed Gospel serratedness. So, he did get the kindness that should come with your fries, but he also got the rough edges that should come along with your Scotch.
When Jesus came to Jerusalem, one of the first things he did was to destroy all the hallmark cards written in his honor. People expected Jesus to walk in holding a sheep with flowing blond hair, sustaining his rhetorical discourse. But when he came in, he looked like Elijah and Knox. He saw all the revolutionaries gathering inside and outside the temple courts. He brought out his inner Jeremiah and scolded them with rhetorical and physical force. “The temple is for the nations, and you have turned it into a John Hagee fest filled with charts, and worse, you have gathered the thugs of Israel, including maybe even Barrabas, to lead the Bible studies.”
Jesus did not pull out Phil Vischer’s magic vegetables for a presentation. He pulled out his serrated rhetoric and went to town, tearing down idol after idol, table after table, and politician after politician. The religious leaders wanted baby Jesus then, but they got the mature God/Man wrapped in “Hell hath no fury” like a man called by the Father to speak truth to powers. Of course, there is time for kindness and gentleness to rule the day.
And I suspect Jim Hamilton and others would concur that there is time for the happy scolding of thugs. But in this calculated effort, I prefer to be Mark’s Gospel over the Gospel of Russell Moore. I prefer to use rhetoric to call people back to soberness in an age of drunken stupors by our elites, even within the church. And further, I have seen too often that those holding back have also been viciously silent when they should act like maniacal prophets screaming from the rooftops.