分类： 《归心》

　　（期中考试刚结束，桌上摊着几本还没收起来的教科书，大家一坐下就开始揉眼睛）

一、我到底哪里没做对？

　　Grace：（把摊开的圣经合上，揉了揉眼睛）我今天已经是这周第三次逼自己打开圣经了。读是读完了，一章创世记，可你现在问我讲了什么，我大概只记得「有晚上、有早晨、这是头一日」。

　　Sophia：（笑）你还算好的，我最近根本没打开过。

　　Grace：不是我不想认真读，我是真的不知道自己在读什么。眼睛扫过那些字，脑子里同时在想project还有多少没写、晚上吃什么。读完合上圣经的那一刻，跟没读之前，感觉一模一样，什么都没留下。

　　Peter：这不就跟上课走神一样吗？我Bio 100的课也常常这样，人在教室，魂不知道飘哪去了。

　　Grace：可上Bio课走神，顶多考试考差。读经走神，我总觉得心里更亏欠一点——好像我把神的话当成了一门我根本没兴趣的必修课，混学分而已。

　　John：（正低头翻着自己那本写满笔记的圣经，抬头接话）我大学的时候有整整一年，读经就是这个状态——说句实话，那一年我读利未记的进度比我读教科书还敷衍，有一次读到那些祭司条例，居然睡着了，醒来发现口水滴在「燔祭」那两个字上，那本圣经到现在还有个印子。我那时候甚至开始怀疑，是不是我信心有问题，别人读经都能「遇见神」，我怎么就只是完成任务。

　　Jack：那后来呢，你怎么解决的？

　　John：我先说一个可能有点扎心的事实——圣经自己就说过，人天然不喜欢神的话。哥林多前书说，属血气的人不领会神的圣灵的事，反倒以为愚拙。不是说你信心不够格，是说，人的心天生就不是朝向神的话去转的，需要神自己动工，把那颗心转过来，我们才会真的「尝」到里面的甘甜，而不只是「读」过去。

　　Tom：（挑眉）那这话听起来有点方便啊——「读不出味道，是因为你还没被神动工」，那我是不是可以说「反正是神的事，我就不用负责任了」？

　　John：（不急）这个反弹我理解，但我说的不是「你不用负责」，是「你不能光靠自己的意志力，把枯燥硬变成享受」。这两件事要分开——你该不该打开圣经、该不该坚持读，这是你的责任；但读的时候心里能不能真的被摸到、真的觉得甘甜，这一部分从来不是纯靠你自己「更努力」就能挤出来的，是要祈求圣灵一起做工的。当代神学家约翰·傅瑞姆（John Frame），他讲圣经的时候特别强调一点，大意是——读经从来不只是一件「弄懂道理」的知识活动，它同时也是一件「我这个人整个被这段话对上」的事。你可以把一段经文的原文、结构、背景都分析得很清楚，却还是没有真的「被这段话遇见」，因为那个部分不是靠分析能到达的，是圣灵把神的话跟你这个具体的人接通的工作。

　　Jenny：（皱眉）那具体要怎么祈求？我是不是每次翻开圣经前先念一句「求圣灵光照」，然后就会不一样？

　　John：老实说，不会像开关一样立刻见效。但那句祷告的意义，不是咒语，是承认——我今天打开这本书，不是靠我自己的悟性能读懂的，我需要神自己开我的心眼。这个态度上的转变，比技巧重要。

　　Grace：（若有所思）那这样说的话，我这几年在教会受装备，学了不少读经方法——归纳法、原文查经、结构分析，这些工具我都会用。可有时候我发现，我用这些工具读经，读得越「专业」，心却越冷，好像在做学术分析，不是在跟神说话。这算是本末倒置吗？

　　John：这是个很值得停下来想的观察。工具本身没有错，圣经也不是拿来随便乱猜的，方法能帮我们不曲解经文。但如果这些工具变成了你「证明自己读得够专业」的东西，跟你刚才说的「感觉在应付作业」，其实是同一个根——都是把读经变成一件靠自己表现的事，而不是等候神向你说话的事。

　　Tom：（转移话题，带点不耐烦）说真的，我更受不了的不是枯燥，是那种「每日KPI」的压迫感。我妈以前每天检查我有没有读经，读完了才安心睡觉。现在没人检查了，可我心里那个声音还在——读了，今天算合格；没读，今天就有点心虚，好像欠了神什么账。

　　Amy：（第一次开口，带着好奇又谨慎）我不是基督徒，我插一句——你们说的这个「合格」、「欠账」，听起来跟我小时候写作业交老师检查，感觉一模一样。信耶稣不是应该让人轻省吗，怎么听起来比不信还累？

　　Tom：对，就是这个感觉，我一直讲不清楚，Amy一句话就点出来了。

　　John：（认真地）Amy这句话问得很准，我要老实承认，很多基督徒——包括我自己——某个阶段的读经，确实活成了你说的那样，一种自我审判的KPI。但那不是圣经原本要给我们的。

　　Jack：（有点激动）那到底哪里出错了？

　　John：出错的地方在于，把「读经」当成了「换取神今天喜不喜欢我」的筹码。今天读了，我今天在神面前分数加一；今天没读，扣分，心虚一整天。这套逻辑的问题是——它偷偷把福音换成了律法。福音说的是，神接纳我，不是因为我今天读经打卡了，是因为基督已经替我完全满足了律法的要求。我读经，不是去挣一个「合格」，是一个已经被接纳的孩子，想更认识那位接纳我的父亲。

　　Tom：（沉默一下，仍有保留）……这话我听着舒服，但很难落地。因为就算我信这个道理，我明天没读经，那种心虚感大概还是会自动冒出来，不会因为我懂了这个道理就消失。

　　John：会的，这个我不否认。这不是一次听懂就永远解决的事，是要每次那种心虚感冒出来的时候，重新用福音去回应它——不是「我今天没读经，神会不高兴」，而是「我今天没读经，我错过了一个跟神亲近的机会，这很可惜，但神对我的接纳没有因此改变」。这两种心情，外表看起来都是「觉得没读经不太好」，但一个是害怕被定罪，一个是可惜错失了甜蜜。

　　Sophia：（终于开口，声音有点低）那我可能是更严重的那种。我不是最近才「读不进去」，我是从高中毕业之后，差不多两年多没正经打开过圣经。奇怪的是，我一开始还会内疚，后来慢慢地，连内疚都没有了，就是很平静地不读，也不觉得少了什么。

　　Peter：（脱口而出）那不是更好吗，至少不内疚了。

　　Sophia：（摇头）不是，我心里知道那不是「好」，是麻木了。

　　John：（认真地看向Sophia）Sophia，谢谢你说出来，这不容易。我想说一句可能有点重的话——内疚和麻木，麻木是更让人担心的那一个。

　　Jack：为什么？内疚不是更痛苦吗？

　　John：内疚痛苦，但内疚说明良心还活着，还在对神的话有反应，那是好的信号，说明神还在你心里做工，提醒你、拉你回来。麻木是那个提醒的声音渐渐被压下去、听不见了，不是因为问题解决了，是因为心开始变硬。圣经里希伯来书特别警告过这件事——不要硬着心，好像在旷野悖逆的日子一样。心硬不是一夜之间发生的，是一次一次地把那个提醒的声音摁下去，摁到最后就真的听不见了。

　　Sophia：（声音更低）那……我现在这样，是不是已经太晚了？

　　John：（马上、清楚地）不晚。你今天愿意说出「我麻木了，这不对」，这句话本身，就说明那个提醒的声音，其实还在，只是很小声。你还听得见，就还有回应的空间。真正可怕的，是连「这不对」都感觉不到了。

讨论：

几个朋友聊到了读经像应付作业、像每日KPI、还有从内疚滑向麻木的经历。John说，人天然读不出神话语的甘甜，需要圣灵动工；也说，把读经变成「换取神今天喜不喜欢我」的筹码，是把福音偷换成了律法；还说，麻木比内疚更值得警惕，因为那是良心的声音渐渐听不见了。请讨论：

1) 回想你最近一次打开圣经的经历，你心里当时更接近「应付一门必修课」，还是「靠读经交换今天的心安」，还是已经麻木、没什么感觉了？

2) 是什么让它变成这样的？

二、圣灵到底在不在说话？

　　Grace：（想了想，主动开口）我想问一个不太一样的。我不是每次读经都没感觉，有那么几次——特别是有一次读诗篇139篇，「你从远处知道我的意念」那一段——我读着读着突然眼眶湿了，觉得神好像真的在看着我、认识我。但那种时刻很少，一年可能就那么两三次。我怎么知道那是圣灵在说话，还是我那天刚好心情比较敏感，情绪上来了而已？

　　Jack：这个我也想过。我甚至怀疑过，是不是我那天听的诗歌、周围的气氛正好烘托，让我「感动」了，跟圣灵没关系，纯粹是气氛使然。

　　John：这是个很诚实、也很重要的问题，我不会给你们一个简单的公式，因为神学上，改教传统一直强调，圣灵做工从来不是脱离圣经文字、凭空给你一种感觉，是借着话语本身、跟话语一起说话的。所以第一个可以检验的地方，是——那个感动，是不是把你带向经文本身真正在说的意思，而不是你自己脑补出来的意思。

　　Grace：那次的感动，就是经文原本在讲的——神从起初就认识我、看顾我，不是我自己脑补的。

　　John：那这是一个好信号。第二个可以检验的地方，是「果子」——不是当下感动了多激烈，是那之后有没有留下什么，让你更认识神、更愿意信靠祂、更愿意顺服祂，哪怕只是一点点。如果只是当下哭一场，过后什么都没留下，那可能真的只是情绪；如果那之后你发现自己面对某件焦虑的事，会想起「神从远处也知道我的意念」，那说明那个感动结出了果子。

　　Tom：（挑刺）可这个「果子」也可能是心理暗示啊——我一旦相信那次是圣灵感动，我就会努力让自己「表现得」好像真的被改变了，这不就是自我实现的预言吗？

　　John：（诚实地）这个可能性我没办法百分之百排除，我不是心理学家，也没办法拿仪器测出圣灵在不在做工。我只能说，如果一切感动都可以被解释成「自我暗示」，那你此刻用来质疑这个感动的这套理论本身，是不是也可以被同样的方式质疑——你信「这只是心理暗示」，会不会也只是你现在这个阶段的一种心理暗示？如果什么都能被还原成脑科学反应，那我们此刻的整个对话，包括你的质疑，也一样只是脑神经放电而已，谁也说服不了谁。我不是要用这个把你噎住，是想说——这条路走到底，其实没有真的更「客观」，只是换了一套解释框架而已。真正要问的，不是「有没有办法排除一切自然解释」，是「这套解释，配不配得上你正在经历的这件事」。

　　Jenny：（换个角度）那撇开怎么分辨不说，我更实际的问题是——除了硬着头皮一章一章刷，我根本不知道还有别的读法。我试过一年读经计划，一开始很有劲，读到利未记直接卡住，弃坑到现在。

　　Peter：（举手）我室友最近在用一个叫SOAP的方法，S是经文，O是observation观察，A是application应用，P是prayer祷告，读完一段先写一句这段在讲什么，再写一句跟我有什么关系，最后写一句祷告。他说这样逼自己慢下来，比刷章数有用多了。

　　Jack：那你有试过吗？

　　Peter：试了两周，说实话第一周还挺新鲜，第二周就开始应付，写的东西越来越敷衍，跟当初刷章数没什么两样，只是换了个格式继续应付。

　　Jenny：（笑）所以这个方法也不是万灵药。

　　John：没有一个方法是万灵药，工具能帮我们养成习惯、慢下来，但工具本身填不满那个更深的需要——就是我们刚才说的，需要神自己开心眼。我个人觉得有帮助的，是先缩小范围，不追章数，就一小段经文，慢慢读，读完问一句：这段经文里，神是什么样的？我又是什么样的？然后老实地回应祂。

　　Grace：还有，别总是一个人闷头读。我这学期开始跟两个姐妹每周一起查一段经文，各自先读，再一起讨论，发现她们看到的角度，我自己一个人根本想不到。

　　Jenny：（想到什么，欲言又止，最后还是说了）说到这个……我想说说我室友的事，可能有点跑题。她不是基督徒，上学期Comparative Literature课学了「读者反应理论」（Reader-Response Theory），教授讲，一段文字的意义不是作者放进去的，是每个读者自己「建构」出来的，一千个读者就有一千种正确的解读，没有哪个更对。她后来跟我聊天，半开玩笑地说——那你们信徒读圣经，说什么「神的意思是这样」，会不会也只是你们自己脑补出来的意思，跟别人「脑补」出别的意思，本质上没什么不同？

　　Tom：（认真起来）这个我也被问过，当时被问得哑口无言，因为好像也没法反驳——凭什么你的解读就是「神的意思」，别人的解读就不是？

　　John：这个问题问得很扎实，值得认真回应，而不是随便糊弄过去。我想先问一句——你室友说「意义是读者建构的，没有哪个更对」的时候，她是不是也希望，别人不要「误读」她说的这句话？

　　Jenny：（想了想）这个……应该是的吧，她肯定不希望我把她这句话理解成相反的意思。

　　John：对，这就是这个理论一个很难绕过去的地方——如果一段文字的意义真的完全由读者自己决定、没有客观对错，那她刚才那句「意义没有客观对错」的话，我也可以随便按我自己的意思去理解，包括理解成「其实是有客观对错的」，而她没有资格说我理解错了。可她显然不会接受这个，她还是希望自己的话被「正确」理解。这说明，就算是最坚持「意义由读者决定」的人，实际生活里也没办法真的活出这套理论，因为沟通本身就要求有一个说话者原本的意思，不然连「理解」跟「误解」都分不出来了。

　　Peter：那放回圣经上呢？

　　John：圣经不是一段漂浮在空中、任人解读的文字，是一位有位格、有意思的神，藉着人写下来、向我们说话。既然是有一位说话者，那就有祂原本要表达的意思，我们读经的工作，不是「我想读出什么就是什么」，是尽力去明白这位说话者原本在说什么。这不代表每个人的理解都一样精准——我们确实会读错、会带着自己的偏见去读，这也是为什么需要好好查考、需要教会群体一起印证——但「有可能读错」跟「没有对错」，是完全不一样的两件事。

　　Jenny：那我可以怎么跟她说？我不想显得我们很霸道，好像只有我们说的才对。

　　John：不用急着说服她，你可以老实告诉她——我完全同意，我们的理解都有限、都可能带着自己的角度，这个我承认；但我不认为「意义完全没有客观对错」，因为如果连这句话本身都要用「有客观对错」的方式讲出来才有意义，那这套理论其实自己先把自己推翻了。

　　Sophia：（换个话题，语气变得沉重）我想问一个我一直不敢问的。旧约里神吩咐以色列人进迦南地，要灭尽那里的人，一个不留；还有撒母耳记上，神藉撒母耳吩咐扫罗，要灭尽亚玛力人。我每次读到这些经文，心里都很不舒服，甚至有点反感——一个慈爱的神，怎么会下这种命令？我不知道该怎么面对这些经文，干脆就跳过不读。

　　Tom：我也是，每次读到这种地方都很别扭，感觉跟主日学讲的「神就是爱」对不上。

　　John：（认真地）我不会假装这是一个读一读就能让人舒服的问题，坦白说，我自己每次读到这些经文，心里也不轻松，我不想给你们一个太快、太轻巧的答案。

　　Jack：那至少说说你是怎么想的？

　　John：我想先说一件事——你们说「这让我反感、觉得不对」，这个反应本身，其实值得注意。你们凭什么知道「灭尽一整个民族」是不对的？

　　Sophia：（愣住）这……不是常识吗，杀戮无辜的人当然不对。

　　John：我完全同意这不对，我不是要为暴力辩护。我想问的是更前面一层——「杀戮是错的」，这个判断本身，是从哪里来的？如果这个世界说到底只是物质、演化出来的结果，没有神、没有一个客观的善恶标准，那「灭族」跟别的任何自然现象，比如一场地震压死很多人，其实没有本质的不同，都只是「发生了」而已，没有谁有资格说哪个「不对」。可我们每个人，包括最激烈反对基督教的人，心里都笃定地知道，屠杀是真实地错的，不只是「我不喜欢」。这份笃定，恰恰需要一个在我们之上、真实存在的善恶标准才能立得住——而这正是圣经里那位神一直在宣告祂自己是的那一位。你们对这段经文的反感，某个意义上，其实是借着神放在你们心里的那把尺子，在审判这段经文里描述的行为，这不是矛盾，反而说明那把尺子是真的。

　　Peter：（皱眉）那这不就更奇怪了吗——用神给的尺子，去质疑神自己下的命令？

　　John：这正是问题的核心，我们得诚实面对这个张力，而不是绕过去。我想说几点，不是要把不舒服感一笔勾销，是帮我们更完整地看这件事。第一，迦南灭绝令不是「随便找个民族杀掉」，圣经自己交代了背景——创世记里神对亚伯拉罕说，要等到「亚摩利人的罪孽满盈」才会审判，中间给了差不多四百年的空间。这些民族长期行邪淫、献婴儿为祭、极其败坏，神的审判不是任意的，是长久忍耐之后，对一个罪恶累积到极致的群体的公义审判。第二，这类「灭尽令」（希伯来文叫herem，圣战）在圣经历史里是一次性的、跟以色列进迦南这件特殊的救赎历史事件绑在一起的，不是神给普遍时代的命令，也从来不是新约教会可以援引来打仗的模板——耶稣、使徒行传，都没有让教会用刀剑扩展神的国。第三，我们容易忘记，以色列自己后来也因为效法迦南人的罪，被神用同样的公义审判、赶出那地——这不是「神偏袒以色列」，是神对一切罪都同样公义。

　　Sophia：（还是有些挣扎）可就算这样，那些被杀的孩子，他们做错了什么？

　　John：（不回避）这是最难的部分，我没有一个能让你完全释怀的答案。我只能说，圣经从头到尾没有把神描绘成一个任意妄为的神，祂一次又一次被称为「审判全地的主岂不行公义」——这句话出自亚伯拉罕自己质问神的时候，神没有斥责这个质问，反而允许他一路追问下去。你们今天的这份不安，其实站在一个很古老、很合圣经的传统里，不是不信，是诚实地在神面前摔跤。

　　Amy：（若有所思）你们讨论这些的方式，跟我想象中不太一样，我以为基督徒遇到这种问题都是直接说「神说的都对，不许问」。

　　John：如果哪个基督徒这样打发你，那多半是他自己也没想清楚，用一句话把你堵回去了，这不是好的做法。神不怕我们问，诗篇里一半都是这种带着痛苦、甚至带着控诉的祷告。诚实地带着困惑来读经，好过假装自己什么都懂。

讨论：

这一场谈到了怎么分辨读经时的感动是圣灵的工作还是单纯情绪、读经方法的局限、后现代「意义由读者决定」的说法、还有旧约里让人不安的灭绝令经文。John提到，我们对「屠杀是错的」这份笃定本身，其实需要一个在我们之上的善恶标准才能立得住。请讨论：

1) 旧约里有没有哪一段经文，是你读了会不舒服、甚至想跳过不读的？

2) 听完今天的讨论，你愿意带着这份不安，继续认真面对它，还是仍然想先放在一边？为什么？

Lesson 5: Why Does Bible Reading Feel More and More Like Homework? — Bible Reading and Spiritual Devotion

(The midterm exams have just ended. Several textbooks are still spread out on the table. As everyone sits down, they start rubbing their tired eyes.)

1. What Exactly Am I Doing Wrong?

Grace: (closing her open Bible and rubbing her eyes) This is already the third time this week that I’ve forced myself to open the Bible. I did finish reading it—a whole chapter of Genesis—but if you asked me right now what it was about, I’d probably only remember, “There was evening, and there was morning—the first day.”

Sophia: (laughing) You’re doing better than I am. I haven’t even opened mine lately.

Grace: It’s not that I don’t want to take it seriously. I genuinely don’t know what I’m reading. My eyes are scanning the words, but at the same time my brain is thinking about how much of the project I still have left to do and what I’m going to eat tonight. The moment I close the Bible after finishing, I feel exactly the same as I did before I started. Nothing has stayed with me.

Peter: Isn’t that just like zoning out in class? I do that in Biology 100 all the time. My body is in the classroom, but my mind has no idea where it has wandered off to.

Grace: But if I zone out in Biology, the worst that happens is that I do badly on an exam. When I zone out while reading the Bible, I feel more guilty somehow—as if I’ve turned God’s Word into a required course I have no interest in, and I’m just trying to get the credit.

John: (looking up from his own Bible, which is filled with notes) I was exactly like that for an entire year in university. To be honest, during that year I read Leviticus even more carelessly than I read my textbooks. Once I actually fell asleep while reading all those regulations for the priests, and when I woke up, I discovered that I’d drooled right onto the words “burnt offering.” That Bible still has a mark on it to this day. Back then I even started wondering whether there was something wrong with my faith. Everyone else seemed to “meet God” when they read the Bible. Why was I just completing an assignment?

Jack: So what happened? How did you get past it?

John: Let me start with something that may sting a little: the Bible itself says that people, by nature, don’t like the things of God. First Corinthians says that the natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, but considers them foolishness. That doesn’t mean your faith isn’t good enough. It means that the human heart isn’t naturally turned toward God’s Word. God Himself has to work and turn our hearts toward Him before we can truly “taste” the sweetness in His Word instead of merely “reading” our way through it.

Tom: (raising an eyebrow) That sounds pretty convenient, though. “You can’t get anything out of reading the Bible because God hasn’t worked in you yet.” So couldn’t I just say, “Well, that’s God’s job, so I’m not responsible”?

John: (calmly) I understand that reaction. But I’m not saying, “You’re not responsible.” I’m saying, “You can’t simply use willpower to force something dry to become enjoyable.” Those are two different things. Whether you should open the Bible and whether you should persevere in reading it—that’s your responsibility. But whether your heart is genuinely touched while you’re reading, whether you actually find it sweet—that has never been something you can produce simply by trying harder. You need to ask the Holy Spirit to work as well. The contemporary theologian John Frame makes an important point when he talks about Scripture: reading the Bible is never merely an intellectual activity of “figuring out doctrine.” It is also a matter of having your whole person confronted by what the passage is saying. You can analyze the original language, structure, and historical background of a passage extremely well and still never really be “met” by that passage, because that part cannot be reached through analysis alone. It is the work of the Holy Spirit, connecting God’s Word with you as a particular person.

Jenny: (frowning) Then how exactly do I pray for that? Am I supposed to say, “Holy Spirit, please illuminate me,” every time I open the Bible, and then things will suddenly be different?

John: Honestly, it doesn’t work like a switch that suddenly turns on. The point of that prayer isn’t that it’s a magic formula. It’s an acknowledgment: I’m opening this book today, but I can’t understand it through my own insight alone. I need God Himself to open the eyes of my heart. That change in attitude is more important than any technique.

Grace: (thoughtfully) Then, if that’s the case, I’ve spent the last few years receiving training at church and learning quite a few Bible-reading methods—inductive Bible study, working with the original languages, structural analysis. I know how to use all those tools. But sometimes I find that the more “professionally” I read the Bible using those tools, the colder my heart becomes. It feels more like academic analysis than talking with God. Is that putting the cart before the horse?

John: That’s a very worthwhile observation to stop and think about. There’s nothing wrong with the tools themselves. The Bible isn’t something we should interpret randomly, and good methods can help keep us from twisting the meaning of Scripture. But if those tools become a way for you to “prove that you’re reading the Bible well enough,” then what you just described is actually rooted in the same problem as feeling like you’re completing an assignment. In both cases, you’ve turned Bible reading into something that depends on your performance instead of something in which you wait for God to speak to you.

Tom: (changing the subject, sounding a little annoyed) Honestly, what bothers me more than the dryness is the pressure of a daily KPI. My mom used to check every day whether I’d read the Bible. She wouldn’t feel at ease until I’d finished. Nobody checks on me now, but that voice is still inside my head: if I read, I passed for today; if I don’t, I feel guilty, as if I owe God something.

Amy: (speaking for the first time, curious but cautious) I’m not a Christian, so let me say something. This “passing” and “owing” you’re talking about sounds exactly like doing homework when I was a kid and handing it in for the teacher to check. Isn’t believing in Jesus supposed to make people free and give them rest? Why does it sound more exhausting than not believing?

Tom: Exactly. That’s the feeling I’ve never been able to explain. Amy just put it into words.

John: (seriously) Amy’s question is very perceptive. I have to admit that many Christians—including myself—have gone through periods when Bible reading really did become the kind of self-judging KPI you’re describing. But that’s not what the Bible originally intends for us.

Jack: (a little agitated) Then where did we go wrong?

John: We went wrong when we turned Bible reading into a bargaining chip for getting God to like us today. I read today, so I get one more point with God. I don’t read today, so I lose a point and feel guilty all day. The problem with that logic is that it quietly replaces the gospel with the law. The gospel says that God accepts me not because I checked Bible reading off my list today, but because Christ has already perfectly fulfilled the demands of the law for me. I don’t read the Bible in order to earn a passing grade. I read it as a child who has already been accepted and wants to know the Father who accepted me better.

Tom: (silent for a moment, still hesitant) …That sounds comforting, but it’s hard to make practical. Because even if I believe what you’re saying, if I don’t read the Bible tomorrow, that feeling of guilt will probably just pop up automatically. Understanding the principle isn’t going to make it disappear.

John: You’re right. I don’t deny that. This isn’t something you understand once and then never struggle with again. Every time that guilty feeling comes up, you have to answer it with the gospel again—not, “I didn’t read the Bible today, so God must be displeased with me,” but, “I didn’t read the Bible today, and I missed an opportunity to draw near to God. That’s a loss, but God’s acceptance of me hasn’t changed.” Outwardly, both feelings may look like, “I wish I had read the Bible,” but one is fear of condemnation, while the other is regret over missing something sweet.

Sophia: (finally speaking, quietly) Then I might be in a more serious situation. It’s not just that I’ve been having trouble reading lately. Since I graduated from high school, I haven’t seriously opened the Bible for more than two years. What’s strange is that at first I felt guilty, but gradually even the guilt disappeared. Now I can simply not read it, feel perfectly calm, and not feel like I’ve lost anything.

Peter: (blurting out) Isn’t that better, at least? You don’t feel guilty anymore.

Sophia: (shaking her head) No. I know it’s not “better.” I’ve just become numb.

John: (looking seriously at Sophia) Sophia, thank you for saying that. I know that isn’t easy. I want to say something that may sound a little strong: between guilt and numbness, numbness is the one that concerns me more.

Jack: Why? Isn’t guilt more painful?

John: Guilt is painful, but guilt means your conscience is still alive. You’re still responding to God’s Word. That’s actually a good sign—it means God is still working in your heart, reminding you and drawing you back. Numbness means that voice of warning has gradually been pushed down until you can no longer hear it. It doesn’t mean the problem has been solved; it means the heart is beginning to harden. Hebrews gives a particularly serious warning about this: do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion in the wilderness. A hardened heart doesn’t happen overnight. It happens when we repeatedly suppress that warning voice until eventually we really can’t hear it anymore.

Sophia: (even more quietly) Then…is it already too late for me?

John: (immediately and clearly) No, it isn’t too late. The fact that you’re willing to say today, “I’ve become numb, and that’s not right,” is itself evidence that the warning voice is still there, even if it’s very quiet. As long as you can still hear it, there is still room to respond. What is truly frightening is when you can no longer even sense that something is wrong.

Discussion:

The friends have talked about Bible reading feeling like completing homework, like meeting a daily KPI, and about the experience of gradually moving from guilt into numbness. John said that people do not naturally taste the sweetness of God’s Word and need the Holy Spirit to work in them. He also said that turning Bible reading into a way of “earning God’s approval for today” is replacing the gospel with the law. He further said that numbness is more concerning than guilt, because it means the voice of conscience is gradually becoming harder to hear. Discuss:

1) Think about the last time you opened the Bible. At that moment, were you closer to “trying to get through a required course,” “using Bible reading to earn peace of mind for the day,” or being numb and feeling almost nothing?

2) What caused it to become that way?

2. Is the Holy Spirit Really Speaking?

Grace: (thinking for a moment, then speaking voluntarily) I want to ask something a little different. I don’t feel nothing every time I read the Bible. There have been a few times—especially once when I was reading Psalm 139, the part that says, “You know my thoughts from afar”—when my eyes suddenly filled with tears. I felt as if God really was looking at me and knew me. But those moments are rare, maybe only two or three times a year. How do I know whether that was the Holy Spirit speaking, or whether I just happened to be emotionally sensitive that day?

Jack: I’ve wondered about that too. I’ve even wondered whether the worship song I had just heard and the atmosphere around me had simply created the right mood and made me emotional, with nothing to do with the Holy Spirit.

John: That’s a very honest and important question. I don’t want to give you a simple formula. The Reformed tradition has always emphasized that the Holy Spirit does not work apart from the actual words of Scripture, giving us some kind of feeling out of nowhere. He speaks through the Word itself and together with the Word. So the first thing we can examine is this: Did that experience lead you toward what the passage actually means, or did it come from something you read into the passage yourself?

Grace: What I felt that time was exactly what the passage was talking about—that God has known me and watched over me from the beginning. I wasn’t reading something into it.

John: Then that’s a good sign. The second thing we can examine is the fruit—not how intense the emotion was in the moment, but whether it left something behind afterward that helped you know God better, trust Him more, or obey Him more, even if only a little. If you simply cried during the moment and nothing remained afterward, then perhaps it really was just emotion. But if afterward you found yourself facing a particular anxiety and remembering, “God knows even my thoughts from afar,” then that suggests the experience produced fruit.

Tom: (pushing back) But that “fruit” could also be psychological suggestion. Once I believe that experience was the Holy Spirit’s work, I might simply try to make myself “act” as though I had really been changed. Isn’t that just a self-fulfilling prophecy?

John: (honestly) I can’t rule that possibility out with one hundred percent certainty. I’m not a psychologist, and I don’t have an instrument that can measure whether the Holy Spirit is working. I can only say that if every spiritual experience can be explained away as “psychological suggestion,” then can the theory you’re using to question that experience be questioned in exactly the same way? Could your belief that “this is only psychological suggestion” itself be a form of psychological suggestion produced by the stage you’re currently in? If everything can ultimately be reduced to brain activity, then our entire conversation right now—including your doubts—is also nothing more than neural activity, and neither of us could actually persuade the other. I’m not saying that to shut you down. I’m saying that if you follow that approach all the way to the end, it isn’t really more “objective”; you’ve simply changed to a different explanatory framework. The real question isn’t whether we can eliminate every possible natural explanation. It’s whether this explanation adequately accounts for what you’re experiencing.

Jenny: (approaching it from another angle) Then, setting aside how to distinguish the two, I have a more practical question. Apart from forcing myself to plow through one chapter after another, I honestly don’t know any other way to read the Bible. I tried a one-year Bible-reading plan. I was really motivated at first, then I got stuck in Leviticus and abandoned it. I still haven’t gone back.

Peter: (raising his hand) My roommate has been using something called the SOAP method. S stands for Scripture, O for Observation, A for Application, and P for Prayer. After reading a passage, he first writes one sentence about what the passage is saying, then one sentence about what it has to do with him, and finally a prayer. He says forcing himself to slow down like that is much more helpful than simply trying to get through a certain number of chapters.

Jack: Have you tried it?

Peter: I did it for two weeks. Honestly, the first week was pretty fresh and interesting. By the second week I started going through the motions, and what I wrote became more and more superficial. It ended up being no different from counting chapters. I had just changed the format of my way of going through the motions.

Jenny: (laughing) So that method isn’t a magic cure either.

John: No method is a magic cure. Tools can help us build habits and slow down, but no tool by itself can fill the deeper need we were talking about—the need for God Himself to open our eyes. Personally, what I find helpful is to narrow the scope. Don’t chase a chapter count. Take a short passage and read it slowly. Then ask: What is God like in this passage? What am I like? And then respond to Him honestly.

Grace: And don’t always read alone in silence. This semester I started studying a passage together with two other women every week. We each read it beforehand and then discuss it together. I’ve discovered perspectives they noticed that I would never have seen on my own.

Jenny: (thinking of something, hesitating, then finally speaking) Speaking of that…I want to tell you about something my roommate said. It may be a little off topic. She’s not a Christian. Last semester, in our Comparative Literature class, we studied Reader-Response Theory. The professor said that the meaning of a text isn’t something the author puts into it; instead, each reader “constructs” the meaning. A thousand readers can have a thousand valid interpretations, and none is more correct than another. Later she was talking with me and jokingly said, “So when you Christians read the Bible and say, ‘This is what God means,’ aren’t you just making up your own meaning? Isn’t that basically the same thing as everyone else coming up with their own interpretation?”

Tom: (becoming serious) I’ve been asked that too. At the time I had no answer, because it seemed impossible to argue with. Why should your interpretation be “God’s meaning” while someone else’s isn’t?

John: That’s a substantial question, and it deserves a serious answer rather than a quick dismissal. Let me ask you something first: when your roommate said, “Meaning is constructed by the reader, and there is no more correct interpretation,” did she also expect people not to “misread” what she meant by that statement?

Jenny: (thinking) Well…I suppose so. She definitely wouldn’t want me to interpret what she said as meaning the exact opposite.

John: Exactly. That’s one of the difficult problems that theory has to face. If the meaning of a text is really determined entirely by the reader and there is no objective right or wrong interpretation, then I could interpret her statement, “There is no objective right or wrong meaning,” however I wanted—including interpreting it to mean, “There actually is an objective right and wrong.” And she would have no grounds to tell me that I had misunderstood her. But obviously she wouldn’t accept that. She still wants her words to be understood correctly. That shows that even people who most strongly insist that meaning is determined by the reader cannot actually live as though that theory were true. Communication itself requires that there be an original meaning intended by the speaker; otherwise we couldn’t even distinguish “understanding” from “misunderstanding.”

Peter: What about when we apply that to the Bible?

John: The Bible isn’t a piece of text floating in the air, waiting for anyone to interpret it however they want. It is God, a personal being with intentions, speaking to us through human authors. If there is a speaker, then there is an original meaning He intends to communicate. Our task in reading the Bible isn’t, “Whatever I want to get out of it is what it means.” Our task is to do our best to understand what the speaker originally intended to say. That doesn’t mean everyone’s interpretation will be equally precise. We really can misunderstand Scripture, and we really can bring our own biases into the text. That’s one reason we need careful study and the confirmation of the church community. But “we can interpret something incorrectly” and “there is no right or wrong interpretation” are two completely different claims.

Jenny: Then what can I say to her? I don’t want to sound arrogant, as though we’re saying only our interpretation can be right.

John: You don’t need to rush to convince her. You can honestly tell her: “I completely agree that our understanding is limited and that all of us can bring our own perspectives into what we read. I accept that. But I don’t believe meaning is completely without objective right or wrong, because if even that statement itself has to be expressed as though it has an objective meaning in order to make sense, then the theory has already undermined itself.”

Sophia: (changing the subject, her tone becoming heavier) I want to ask about something I’ve been afraid to ask. In the Old Testament, God commanded the Israelites to enter the land of Canaan and completely destroy the people there, leaving no survivors. And in First Samuel, God commanded Saul through Samuel to completely destroy the Amalekites. Every time I read those passages, I feel deeply uncomfortable, even repulsed. How could a loving God give commands like that? I don’t know how to deal with those passages, so I usually just skip them.

Tom: Same here. Every time I come across passages like that, I feel conflicted. It seems inconsistent with what we learned in Sunday school—that “God is love.”

John: (seriously) I’m not going to pretend this is a problem that becomes comfortable after reading one explanation. Honestly, I don’t feel comfortable myself every time I read these passages. I don’t want to give you a quick or superficial answer.

Jack: Then at least tell us how you think about it.

John: I want to start with something. You said, “This makes me feel repulsed; I feel that it’s wrong.” That reaction itself is worth paying attention to. How do you know that completely destroying an entire people is wrong?

Sophia: (stunned) Isn’t that…just common sense? Killing innocent people is obviously wrong.

John: I completely agree that it is wrong. I’m not trying to defend violence. What I’m asking is one level deeper: Where does the judgment itself—that “killing is wrong”—come from? If, at the end of the day, this world is nothing more than matter and the result of evolution, with no God and no objective standard of good and evil, then genocide is ultimately no different in kind from any other natural event, such as an earthquake killing many people. It simply “happened,” and no one has the authority to say that one event is “wrong.” Yet every one of us—including people who strongly oppose Christianity—knows with deep certainty that mass killing is genuinely wrong, not merely something we personally dislike. That certainty requires a standard of good and evil that exists above us and is genuinely real. And that is precisely who the God of the Bible continually declares Himself to be. In a sense, your discomfort with this passage is actually you using the moral standard God has placed within you to judge the actions described in the passage. That’s not necessarily a contradiction. It may actually show that the standard itself is real.

Peter: (frowning) But doesn’t that make it even stranger? We’re using the standard God gave us to question a command that God Himself gave?

John: That’s exactly where the heart of the problem lies. We have to face that tension honestly rather than avoid it. Let me point out several things—not to make the discomfort disappear, but to help us see the whole picture. First, the command concerning the destruction of Canaan wasn’t simply, “Find some nation and kill them.” The Bible itself gives us the background. In Genesis, God told Abraham that the judgment would not come until “the iniquity of the Amorites was complete.” In other words, there was a period of roughly four hundred years. These peoples had long practiced sexual immorality, child sacrifice, and other forms of extreme wickedness. God’s judgment was not arbitrary. It was a righteous judgment upon a society whose accumulated wickedness had reached its fullness after a long period of patience. Second, these commands concerning complete destruction—the Hebrew term is herem, associated with holy war—were unique to that particular event in redemptive history, connected with Israel’s entry into Canaan. They were not general commands for all times, and they were never a model that the New Testament church could invoke to wage war. Jesus and the apostles never instructed the church to expand God’s kingdom through the sword. Third, we easily forget that Israel itself was later judged by God with the same justice because of its own imitation of Canaanite wickedness and was driven out of the land. This wasn’t God showing favoritism toward Israel. It was God being equally just toward all sin.

Sophia: (still struggling) But even so, what did those children do to deserve being killed?

John: (not avoiding the question) That’s the hardest part. I don’t have an answer that will make you completely at peace. I can only say that from beginning to end, the Bible never portrays God as arbitrary or capricious. Again and again He is called the One who judges the whole earth justly. Those words come from Abraham himself when he questioned God. God didn’t rebuke him for asking. Instead, He allowed Abraham to keep asking and wrestling with the issue. Your discomfort today actually places you within a very old and deeply biblical tradition. It isn’t necessarily unbelief. It can be an honest struggle before God.

Amy: (thoughtfully) The way you guys are discussing these things is different from what I imagined. I thought Christians usually responded to questions like this by saying, “God said it, so it must be right. Don’t question it.”

John: If a Christian dismisses you that way, most likely they haven’t thought the issue through themselves and are using one sentence to shut down the conversation. That’s not a good way to handle it. God isn’t afraid of our questions. Half of the Psalms are filled with prayers like this—prayers spoken out of pain and sometimes even protest. It is better to come to Scripture honestly with our confusion than to pretend that we understand everything.

Discussion:

This conversation explored how to distinguish between a response to Scripture that is the work of the Holy Spirit and one that is simply an emotional reaction; the limitations of different Bible-reading methods; the postmodern claim that meaning is determined by the reader; and the difficult Old Testament passages concerning the destruction of the Canaanites. John pointed out that our deep conviction that “mass killing is wrong” itself requires a standard of good and evil that exists above us. Discuss:

1) Is there any passage in the Old Testament that makes you uncomfortable, or even makes you want to skip it?

2) After today’s discussion, are you willing to continue facing that discomfort and seriously engage with the passage, or would you still rather put it aside for now? Why?

　　（Tom和Amy一起走进来，两人手还牵着，Amy有点不好意思地松开手）

一、基督徒谈恋爱，到底有什么不一样？

　　Jack：（笑）哟，才校园情侣没几个月，牵手都还不好意思了？

　　Amy：（脸红）不是……是不知道在你们这里牵手合不合适。

　　Jenny：（笑）合适合适，你们俩已经是团契公认的官方情侣了。

　　Peter：（叹气，语气有点酸）羡慕，我到现在都没谈过恋爱，你们俩都快一年了吧？

　　Jenny：一年零两个月了，我记得清清楚楚，因为Tom那天晚上在我们群里发喜讯发到半夜，还配了七八张照片。

　　Tom：（不好意思）那天是真的开心嘛。

　　Amy：（有点好奇）我一直想问，你们基督徒谈恋爱，到底有什么不一样？我身边非基督徒的朋友谈恋爱，也讲三观合不合、也讲尊重对方，我不太明白「基督徒的恋爱」具体差在哪，总不会只是「一起去教会」这么简单吧？

　　John：（把手里那杯还没喝完的咖啡放下，笑着接话）这个问题问得好，我先说我不同意的答案——不是「一起去教会」，也不是「不能接吻」，这些顶多是表面的差异。

　　Tom：（笑）那你说说，不然我跟Amy这一年到底哪里「基督徒」了？

　　John：我觉得核心的差别，是「你为什么在一起」，还有「出了问题的时候，你们往哪里去」。很多恋爱关系，说白了核心逻辑是「你能不能满足我」——满足我的安全感、满足我的自尊、满足我不想一个人的孤独。这个逻辑本身没有坏到不能谈，几乎所有恋爱一开始都带着这个成分。但基督徒的恋爱，如果是健康的，核心逻辑会慢慢变成——我们两个人一起，是不是能帮助彼此更像基督，更认识神、更被神改变。

　　Amy：（皱眉）那如果只谈「帮助彼此更像基督」，听起来好严肃，谈恋爱不就是想开心、想被爱吗？

　　John：想开心、想被爱，这不是错的，神造我们本来就渴望被爱、渴望亲密关系，这个渴望是好的。我要说的不是「不能享受恋爱」，是——当出问题的时候，比如吵架了、对方让你失望了、这段关系让你没那么开心了，你们两个是各自去处理自己的情绪、找台阶下，还是愿意一起回到神面前，老实说「我哪里伤了你，我哪里需要改」。

　　Jenny：（想起什么）我表姐跟她男朋友，两个人都说自己是基督徒，也一起去教会、一起participate敬拜团，看起来特别登对。但每次私下吵架，都是各自去找自己的闺蜜、兄弟吐槽对方多差，从来没有两个人一起祷告过，甚至有一次我表姐跟我说，「我们俩在教会看起来很般配，其实私下没什么共同语言」。后来分了，她说，「我们连信仰这一点都没能真正共享，只是两个都信主的人在一起而已」。

　　Jack：那你说的「一起回到神面前」，具体是长什么样？会不会又是那种「两个人牵手祷告十分钟就和好」的鸡汤画面？

　　John：（笑）不一定长得那么画面感，我认识一对夫妻，结婚快十年了，他们跟我说，他们吵得最凶的一次，是为了买房子的事，两个人几乎要冷战。后来是丈夫先开口，不是说「我们祷告吧」，是说「我发现我这几天讲话很凶，是因为我心里怕我们会做错决定，怕自己不够能干」，然后老婆也说了自己害怕的地方。他们说，那次没有立刻解决买房的问题，但两个人的心先合在一起了。这才是我说的「往哪里去」——不是有没有做祷告的仪式，是愿不愿意在冲突里，先老实面对自己里面的东西，而不是只顾着赢这场架。

　　Jenny：这就是我表姐跟她前男友缺的那一块。

　　John：对，标签相同不代表核心相同。

　　Peter：（换个话题，有点犹豫）John，我不是在谈恋爱，我是……一直单身。有时候我真的会觉得，是不是我哪里有问题，是不是不够好才没人喜欢我。我知道理智上不该把「被爱」跟「有没有价值」画等号，但心里就是控制不住这么想。

　　Jack：（半开玩笑）Peter你人挺好的，可能只是你们CS系男生比例太失衡了。

　　Peter：（苦笑）这个我知道，但那不是重点，重点是……我发Ins的时候，看到高中同学一个个都有对象了，晒合照、晒纪念日，我心里那种「是不是我不够好」的感觉，真的挥之不去。而且我妈那边也开始念叨了，说什么「你表哥都订婚了」，好像单身是一种要被治疗的病。

　　Amy：（点头）这个我也懂，虽然我不是基督徒，但我们心理学课上，教授讲依恋类型（attachment style），说一个人对亲密关系的焦虑，很大程度上是童年跟父母的依恋模式决定的。我上完那节课，反而更焦虑了，因为我开始怀疑，我是不是「回避型依恋」，是不是我自己有问题才谈不好恋爱。

　　John：这个提醒我想到一件事——依恋类型这些研究，其实能帮我们看清楚很多真实的东西，比如为什么我们会用某种方式反应、为什么某些关系模式特别让我们不安，这些都是有用的观察，我不会说它是假的。但这类理论能回答的，是「你为什么会有这种反应模式」，回答不了的，是「你到底值不值得被爱」这个问题。就算你被诊断出「回避型依恋」，这也只是描述了你的一种反应习惯，不能决定你有没有价值。

　　Peter：那到底怎么样才能真的相信自己「有价值」，而不是嘴上说说？

　　John：这个感觉，我完全理解，而且我不想轻描淡写地说「你很好，别多想」，因为那种感觉不是靠一句安慰就能消失的——我大学单身了整整四年，前女友分手理由是「我们更适合当朋友」，一开始我心里翻译成「我不够好」翻译了大概一年。我想问你一件事——如果你现在马上有了对象，那种「我不够好」的感觉，会彻底消失吗，还是只是被压下去一阵子？

　　Peter：（想了想）……可能会消失一阵子，但我猜过一阵子又会冒出别的，比如「我配不配一直被爱」之类的。

　　John：这就是问题的核心——如果「被爱」是用来证明「我有价值」，那这个价值感会一直是悬空的，因为它靠的是另一个人持续地选择你、持续地不离开你，而人是会变的、会累的、甚至会犯错离开的。神给你的身份，不是靠一个人来证明你够好——严格说，神爱你，从来不是因为你条件够好、够格被爱，基督十字架上要显明的，恰恰是你不需要先证明自己值得，神就在你还不配的时候主动爱了你。这不是要你「不谈恋爱也无所谓」的鸡汤，是说，你的价值感如果先扎根在这里，你以后不管单身还是有对象，那份不安全感都会松动一些。清教徒传统很喜欢讲一件事——我们不只是被神像法官一样宣判「无罪」，还被接进了祂的家。巴刻（J. I. Packer）说过，被神收养作儿女，是整个福音所给出的最高的一项特权。你不是被捞出来之后晾在旁边，是被当成亲生儿女疼爱。

　　Peter：（叹气）道理我懂，但知道跟感觉到，中间差好远。我妈昨天又发微信说「你表哥订婚了」，我看到那条消息的时候，道理什么的完全想不起来，就是很难受。

　　John：我同意，这条路不是听一次道理就走完的，是要一次一次在这个感觉冒出来的时候，重新选择相信福音说的，而不是相信朋友圈、或者你妈的微信告诉你的。

　　Jack：（换个角度）那我问个更直接的——关于身体界限这件事，说实话，我现在守着，很大一部分是因为怕犯罪、怕搞砸，而不是因为我真的理解这些界限本身有什么美善。这种心态，算是……有问题吗？

　　John：这是个很诚实的问题，我遇到很多学生也是这样。先说结论——「怕犯罪」不是完全没用，圣经里也讲敬畏神，但如果只停在「怕」，这个界限会很脆弱，因为怕是可以被压过去的，尤其是感情浓烈的时候。

　　Jack：（老实说）说实话，上一段感情里我确实有过差点越界的时候，那次真的不是靠什么「理解美善」拦住我的，是突然想到「要是团契的人知道了怎么办」，那种怕丢脸的感觉硬生生拦住了我。现在想想，那次拦住我的理由，其实挺不属灵的。

　　John：至少它拦住了你，这不是坏事，我不会说「因为动机不纯，所以那次守住不算数」。但你自己也感觉到了——靠「怕丢脸」撑住的防线，遇到没人看得见的时候，或者感情更深的时候，可能就撑不住了。

　　Amy：（好奇）那「理解界限的美善」是什么意思？我作为一个不算基督徒的人，说实话我看不出这些界限哪里「美」，只觉得是一堆规矩。

　　John：我试着这样说——身体的界限，圣经讲的核心不是「性是脏的、危险的，要小心」，而是「性是要指向一种完全的、公开的、一辈子的委身」，是在婚姻的约里，两个人把整个自己交托给对方，不留后路。在这个约之外提前使用它，某个角度说，是在还没有那份完全委身的保障时，就把最脆弱的自己交出去，很容易受伤，也容易把对方当成满足自己的工具，而不是要一辈子珍惜的人。这不是「神设了一堆规矩考验你」，是神在保护一件祂看为宝贵的事。

　　Amy：（若有所思，但没被完全说服）……这个说法比我以前听过的「等到结婚」版本好一点，但我还是觉得，两个人愿意、互相尊重，为什么一定要等一张证书？

　　John：这个问题很诚实，我今天没办法三句话说服你，我们下半场可以接着聊这个。我先回Jack——如果你能从「怕犯罪」，慢慢走到「理解这是在保护一件美好的事」，你守这个界限的时候，会从「忍着不做」变成「我在活出神看为美的东西」，那个动力会完全不一样。这里其实没有什么「中立地带」——范泰尔那一派的护教学一直强调，人做的每一件事，包括怎么对待自己的身体，从来不是一件「先中立、再选边站」的事，它已经是在敬拜点什么了。你要么是在用身体敬拜那位造你身体的神，要么是在用身体敬拜别的东西——可能是感觉、可能是被需要的证明、可能是别人怎么看你。不存在「先不管信仰，单纯讲身体」这回事。

讨论：

这一场里，Amy问基督徒谈恋爱到底有什么不一样，Peter说出单身让他觉得「自己不够好」的挣扎，Jack坦白自己守身体界限更多是出于怕犯罪而不是理解美善。John说，基督徒恋爱的核心差别不是标签，是「你为什么在一起」和「出问题时往哪里去」；也说，被爱不能拿来证明自己的价值，那个价值早已经在基督里被确立了。请讨论：

1) 从「谈恋爱的核心逻辑」「单身与价值感」「守界限的动机」这三件事里，哪一个你感受最深，或者最想追问？

2) 愿意的话，跟大家说说你自己（或者身边朋友）在这件事上的真实经历。

二、当爱不是想象中那样，我该怎么办？

　　Jack：（接着上半场的话题）说到「等到结婚」，我室友（不信主的）听我说这个，直接说我「压抑」，说什么都要有个证书才能做，太不现代了。我当时被问得哑口无言，只能说「这是我的信仰」，但这个答案感觉很没说服力，好像我自己也不太信服。

　　Amy：（点头）我之前也这么想，我们Gender Studies课上教授讲得更直接，说贞洁这种观念，从历史上看，本质上是父权社会用来控制女性身体、确保财产和血统继承的一套工具，跟什么「美善」没关系，纯粹是权力结构留下来的遗迹，只是现在包装得比较温和而已。我一开始听Tom讲这些的时候，心里其实是有点抗拒的，觉得是不是在给我洗脑。

　　Tom：（有点尴尬）我从来没想过要给你洗脑……

　　John：（对Amy）我完全理解这个疑虑，而且历史上教会确实也有滥用「贞洁」这个词去控制人、尤其是控制女性的例子，这些是真实发生过的伤害，不是我要否认或者轻描淡写的。但我想请你想一件事——你刚才说，「两个人愿意、互相尊重就够了」，「同意」（consent）是你判断这件事对不对的标准，对吗？

　　Amy：对，我觉得只要双方同意，没有伤害到谁，就没有谁有资格说这不对。

　　John：那我想追问——为什么「同意」是重要的？为什么不能是「谁力气大、谁有权、谁能说服对方，谁就可以做」？

　　Amy：（有点不耐烦）当然不能这样，那是剥削，是不尊重人。

　　John：你说「不尊重人」，其实已经预设了一件事——每一个人都有一种不能被随便侵犯的尊严，人不是可以被随便使用的物件，即使对方愿意、即使力量悬殊也没关系，也不代表可以不顾这个人本身的完整跟脆弱。这个「人有尊严、不该被当工具用」的信念，其实不是从「我们只是进化出来的、追求生存繁衍的动物」这个说法里长出来的——如果人真的只是这样，那身体、性，说到底也只是延续基因的工具而已，「同意」凭什么比「有效繁衍」更重要，凭什么比「基因传播效率」更重要？我不是说你信的这套没有good intention，是想指出，你其实也在借用一个「人有超越肉体、值得被珍惜」的信念，这个信念，圣经会告诉你，是因为人是照着神的形象造的。

　　Amy：（沉默了一下）……我没有从这个角度想过，我一直觉得「同意」是理所当然的标准，没想过它本身也需要一个理由撑着。

　　Jack：（插话）那这样说的话，是不是就能反驳我室友了？下次他再说我压抑，我就问他「同意」凭什么重要？

　　John：（笑）你可以问，但别指望一句话就把人问倒，这更多是帮你自己想清楚，而不是拿来赢辩论的武器。而且我要老实说，这个追问只能让人看到「你的标准也需要一个更深的根基」，没办法直接证明「所以基督教是对的」，那是更长的一段路，今天没办法走完。

　　Amy：（若有所思）……我需要再想想，这个说法我没办法立刻接受，但我承认，它让我没办法像刚才那么理直气壮了。

　　Tom：（换回自己的角度，有点艰难）那我问个更贴身的——Amy现在对信仰感兴趣，但还没信，我们俩感情挺好的，但我心里其实一直有个坎——如果她一直不信，我们两个继续走下去，是不是就是在明知故犯？可如果我因为这个跟她分手，感觉又太狠了，她现在明明在慢慢靠近信仰。

　　Amy：（有点难受）……你从来没跟我说过你在纠结这个，我一直以为我们挺好的。

　　John：Tom，我很感谢你愿意在这里说出来，这个张力是真实的，我不会假装它不存在。圣经确实提醒信徒不要跟不信的人「同负一轭」，这不是要贬低Amy的价值，也不是说不信的人就不值得爱，是因为婚姻是要一起走一辈子最深处的路，如果两个人对「人生最终的意义、最终的依靠」有根本不同的答案，这条路会走得特别辛苦，尤其是遇到难处的时候，比如孩子的教育、比如面对生死这样的事。

　　Amy：（低声）那你的意思是，我们俩没有未来？

　　John：我没有资格替你们两个做这个决定，我只想说两件事。第一，这不代表你现在就要「表演信主」来配合这段感情，那样对你、对信仰都不诚实，神要的是你自己真实地被祂吸引，不是为了留住一段关系。第二，Tom，你现在已经在纠结这件事了，这个纠结本身就是个信号，值得你们两个诚实地聊一聊，而不是一直往前走，指望以后自然会解决，也不要用「反正她可能以后会信」这种模糊的期待，来逃避现在就要面对的问题。

　　Tom：（叹气）……这个我确实一直在逃避，怕一聊就要面对分手的可能，也怕伤到她。

　　（Amy沉默了一会儿，转向Tom，声音有点发抖）

　　Amy：Tom，我想问你一件事，你老实回答我——你现在跟我在一起，是不是……有一部分原因，是希望有一天能把我「带来信主」？如果是这样，我会觉得，我好像不是被你当成一个完整的人在爱，是一个待完成的project。

　　Tom：（愣住，然后很认真地）不是。至少……不完全是。我是真的希望你能认识神，因为我觉得那是好的事，但我爱你，不是因为你「还没信」这件事，是因为你这个人，你笑起来的样子、你半夜陪我改论文的耐心、你会记得我提过一次的小事——这些跟你信不信没有关系，我从一开始喜欢的就是这些。

　　Amy：（眼眶有点红）那你刚才说的「明知故犯」……听起来就是在说，我们这样在一起本身就是个错误。

　　Tom：（急忙解释）我不是这个意思，我是说……我怕的不是「现在」，是怕以后。怕我们真的走到结婚那一步，遇到很难的事——比如生病、比如吵得很凶的时候，我会本能地想靠祷告、靠信仰撑过去，而你可能完全没有那个依靠，那种时候我们会不会其实是各自在面对，而不是一起面对。

　　Amy：（沉默了一下）……我没有从这个角度想过，我一直以为你担心的是「我们现在做的事对不对」，没想过你担心的是「以后」。

　　John：（轻声插话）Tom，你愿意把这个「怕」说出来，而不是继续含糊地纠结，这本身就是很不容易的一步。Amy，我也想请你想一件事——你刚才问「是不是把你当成project」，这个警觉是对的，值得被认真对待。但同时，Tom现在纠结的，其实不是「要不要爱你」，是「怎么爱你才是对你负责任的方式」，这两件事不一样。

　　Amy：（想了想，声音平静了一些）那……我们现在应该怎么办？我不觉得我准备好现在就说「好，我信了」，那样对我自己也不诚实，就像你说的。

　　Tom：（松了口气，但也有点难过）我也不知道具体该怎么办，我只知道，继续假装这件事不存在，比现在说出来更糟。

　　John：我没办法替你们两个把这件事解决，今天说开，不代表今天就要有结论。你们可以给自己一点时间，定期诚实地聊这件事，而不是每次话到嘴边又咽回去。这段关系接下来往哪里走，最终还是要看Amy自己有没有真的被神吸引，那不是Tom能替你决定，也不是靠拖时间能拖出来的。

　　Jack：那如果真的走到「必须做决定」那一步，是不是就一定要分手？

　　John：我不会给你们一个「一定要」的公式，这不是我能替他们两个决定的事。我能说的是，逃避这个问题不聊清楚，比诚实面对它，风险更大——因为逃避不会让张力消失，只会拖到伤害更大的时候才爆发。

　　Jenny：（换个角度）说到「一直往前走」，我想到我另一个朋友的事——不是恋爱，是Hook-up。我们宿舍隔壁那个女生，她自己也说过，不想要「恋爱那么多责任」，就跟几个人保持那种关系，她嘴上说「我很清楚自己在做什么，不后悔」，社交媒体上也经常发那种很洒脱、很自信的照片。但上学期她有一次喝多了，跟我说，她其实每次那种关系结束之后，都会觉得更空、更没有安全感，只是不敢在别人面前说，怕显得自己「不够酷」。

　　Peter：这跟我们平时刷Ins看到的甜蜜情侣照片，是不是也有点关系？我是说，我们一边看着朋友圈里全是秀恩爱的、随意约会的内容，一边又觉得这些都很正常，好像不这样才是奇怪的那个。

　　John：这是个很敏锐的观察。社交媒体给我们两个错觉，一个是「所有人都过得比我幸福」，另一个是「随意的关系是常态，认真对待反而显得老土」。这两个错觉合在一起，会不知不觉地调整你对「什么样的关系是正常的」的期待，你可能嘴上说自己不在乎，但心里的标准已经被悄悄挪动了。

　　Jack：这跟我们第一课讲的「手机、球赛填洞」是不是一个道理？

　　John：非常像，只是这里被抓来填洞的，是最贴身、最容易让人误以为「这就是爱」的东西——身体的亲密。而且这个洞更危险，因为身体的亲密感很容易被误读成情感上真的被爱、被珍惜，实际上可能只是荷尔蒙制造出来的错觉，退潮之后，那个空虚感反而更强。

　　Peter：（想到欧文那次讨论）那这个是不是也是「同一个根长出来的不同枝子」？

　　John：很可能是。而且我想多说一句——就算是在教会长大、很看重「守贞洁」的基督徒，也不代表这个根就不存在了。我认识一些学生，严格守住了不能有身体接触这条线，全团契都夸他自律，可他们私下可能陷在色情内容或者幻想里出不来，因为真正没被处理的，是那个「靠占有一个身体、占有一种感觉，来确认自己是被爱的」的核心问题，外面的规矩守住了，里面那个根照样在长，只是换了一个更隐蔽、更没人看得见的地方冒出来。我们上次说过，一个人不能只单独治死一样罪，却放着别的罪不管——这里也是一样，「不跟人发生关系」这件事本身不等于「贞洁」，如果心里那个用身体的感觉证明自己被爱、被需要的欲望没有被福音摸到，它只是换了地方活着。

　　Tom：（认真）那具体怎么办？总不能又是「靠意志力守住」吧，我们已经知道这个不太管用。

　　John：意志力能帮一时，但撑不久。真正持久的，是你越来越清楚、越来越信——你不需要靠身体的亲密、也不需要靠任何一段感情，来证明自己被爱、有价值，因为在基督里，这件事已经被定了。这不是让你冷感，是让你带着自由去爱人，而不是带着「我必须抓住点什么」的饥渴去爱人。

　　Jenny：（想到最开始那个话题，声音低下来）那……我想说另一件事，是我一个很要好的朋友，上个学期被她男朋友劈腿加PUA，那种伤害不是身体上的，是整个人被操控、被打压到不敢相信自己值得被好好对待，她现在看到镜子里的自己都会想哭。我现在还没走出来陪她走的那种感觉，心里又愤怒又无力，我想问——神是公义和慈爱的，那祂为什么允许这种事发生在一个信祂的人身上？

　　Peter：（有点手足无措）那……我们要不要说点什么鼓励她的话？

　　John：（对Peter摇摇头）先别急着给答案。Jenny，这个问题，我没办法给你一个能马上解开的答案，如果我现在给你一套「神的美意」的说法，可能反而是在伤口上撒盐。我能说的是，神对伤害人、操控人的行为，从来不是无所谓的态度，圣经里神一次又一次为受欺压的人发怒、为他们伸冤。你朋友受的伤，神看见，而且在意，这不是一句空话。

　　Jenny：那我该怎么陪她？

　　John：不用急着让她「走出来」，也不用急着帮她「理性分析」这段关系哪里出了问题，她现在最需要的，可能只是有人不评判地相信她说的话，陪着她，让她知道自己不是疯了、不是反应过度。至于「为什么神允许」这个问题，我们可以一起带着它，不需要现在就有答案，但可以一起把它带到神面前，慢慢地、诚实地。

讨论：

这一场从Amy质疑「贞洁」是不是父权社会的控制工具开始，到Tom坦白跟未信的Amy在一起心里的挣扎，再到Jenny朋友被劈腿加PUA的伤害。John用「同意为什么重要」追问了「一切价值都是相对的」这个想法，也提醒大家，守住外在的界限不等于心里的根被处理了。请讨论：

1) 从「贞洁到底是不是压迫」「和未信的人在一起怎么办」「陪伴受伤的朋友」这三件事里，哪一个是你现在或者身边朋友正在经历的？

2) 愿意的话，跟大家说说具体是什么情况，你现在心里最大的困惑或者挣扎是什么。

Lesson 3: Dating, Singleness, and Boundaries: Why Is This So Complicated? — Love and the Body

(Tom and Amy walk in together, still holding hands. Amy gets a little embarrassed and lets go.)

1. What’s Different About Christian Dating?

Jack: (laughing) Oh, look at you two. You’ve only been a campus couple for a few months, and you’re still shy about holding hands?

Amy: (blushing) No… I just wasn’t sure if holding hands was okay around you guys.

Jenny: (laughing) Of course it’s okay. You two are already the fellowship’s officially recognized couple.

Peter: (sighs, sounding a little jealous) I’m jealous. I’ve never even been in a relationship. You two have been together almost a year, right?

Jenny: One year and two months. I remember exactly because Tom posted the news in our group chat that night and kept posting pictures until midnight. Like seven or eight of them.

Tom: (embarrassed) I was just really happy that day.

Amy: (curious) I’ve actually been meaning to ask this. What’s really different about Christian dating? My non-Christian friends talk about whether they’re compatible, whether they share the same values, and whether they respect each other. I don’t really understand what’s specifically different about “Christian dating.” It can’t just mean “go to church together,” right?

John: (puts down the coffee he hasn’t finished and smiles) That’s a good question. Let me start with what I don’t think the answer is. It’s not “you go to church together,” and it’s not simply “you can’t kiss.” Those are, at most, surface-level differences.

Tom: (laughing) Then tell us what the difference is. Otherwise, after being together for a year, what exactly makes Amy and me “Christian”?

John: I think the key difference is why you’re together, and where you go when things go wrong. A lot of relationships, when you get right down to it, are built around the question, “Can you meet my needs?” Can you give me security? Can you make me feel good about myself? Can you keep me from feeling lonely? There’s nothing inherently evil about those desires. Almost every relationship starts with some of that. But if Christian dating is healthy, the core question gradually becomes: “As these two people walk together, are they helping each other become more like Christ, know God more deeply, and be changed by Him?”

Amy: (frowns) But if the whole point is “helping each other become more like Christ,” that sounds so serious. Isn’t dating supposed to be about having fun and being loved?

John: Wanting to have fun and be loved isn’t wrong. God made us with a desire to be loved and to have close relationships. That desire is good. What I’m saying isn’t “you’re not allowed to enjoy being in love.” It’s this: when things go wrong—when you argue, when your partner disappoints you, when the relationship stops making you happy—do you each just deal with your own emotions and find a way to move on, or are you willing to come back to God together and honestly say, “Here’s where I hurt you. Here’s where I need to change”?

Jenny: (remembering something) My cousin and her boyfriend both say they’re Christians. They go to church together and even serve on the worship team together. From the outside, they looked like the perfect couple. But whenever they argued privately, they would each go to their own friends and complain about how terrible the other person was. They never actually prayed together. One time my cousin told me, “At church, we look like we’re perfect for each other, but when we’re alone, we barely have anything to talk about.” They eventually broke up, and she said, “We never really shared our faith. We were just two Christians dating each other.”

Jack: So when you say “come back to God together,” what does that actually look like? Is it going to be one of those cheesy scenes where two people hold hands, pray for ten minutes, and suddenly everything is fine?

John: (laughs) It doesn’t necessarily look that dramatic. I know a married couple who have been married for almost ten years. They told me the biggest fight they ever had was over buying a house. They were almost giving each other the silent treatment. Eventually, the husband spoke first. He didn’t say, “Let’s pray.” He said, “I’ve realized I’ve been really harsh with you these past few days because I’m afraid we’ll make the wrong decision. I’m afraid I’m not capable enough.” Then his wife talked about what she was afraid of too. They told me they didn’t solve the house-buying problem that night, but their hearts were brought back together first. That’s what I mean by “where you go.” It’s not about whether you perform some prayer ritual. It’s whether, in the middle of conflict, you’re willing to honestly face what’s going on inside you instead of just trying to win the argument.

Jenny: That’s exactly what my cousin and her ex were missing.

John: Exactly. Having the same label doesn’t mean you share the same core.

Peter: (changes the subject, hesitating) John, I’m not dating anyone. I’m… just single. Sometimes I honestly wonder if there’s something wrong with me. Like maybe I’m not good enough, and that’s why nobody likes me. I know logically that I shouldn’t equate “being loved” with “having value,” but I can’t seem to stop myself from feeling that way.

Jack: (half-joking) Peter, you’re a pretty good guy. Maybe it’s just because there are way too many guys in your CS program.

Peter: (laughs bitterly) I know that, but that’s not really the point. The point is… whenever I post something on Instagram and see one former high school classmate after another getting into relationships, posting couple photos and anniversary posts, I can’t shake this feeling of, “Maybe I’m just not good enough.” And my mom has started making comments too. She’ll say things like, “Your cousin is already engaged.” It’s like being single is some kind of disease that needs to be cured.

Amy: (nods) I get that too. I’m not a Christian, but in my psychology class, our professor talked about attachment styles and how a person’s anxiety around intimacy can be strongly connected to their attachment patterns with their parents growing up. After that class, I actually became more anxious, because I started wondering, “Am I avoidantly attached? Is there something wrong with me that’s why I can’t make relationships work?”

John: That reminds me of something. Research on attachment styles can actually help us see a lot of real things—why we respond in certain ways, why certain relationship patterns make us especially anxious. Those are useful observations, and I’m not saying they’re false. But theories like that can answer the question, “Why do I tend to respond this way?” They can’t answer the question, “Am I actually worthy of being loved?” Even if someone identifies you as having an avoidant attachment style, that only describes a pattern in how you tend to respond. It doesn’t determine your value.

Peter: Then how do I actually believe that I have value instead of just saying the words?

John: I completely understand that feeling, and I don’t want to brush it off by saying, “You’re a great person. Don’t overthink it.” That kind of pain doesn’t disappear because someone gives you a nice sentence. I was single for all four years of university. My ex broke up with me by saying, “I think we’re better as friends.” For about a year, I automatically translated that in my head as, “I’m not good enough.” So let me ask you something: if you suddenly got into a relationship tomorrow, would that feeling of “I’m not good enough” completely disappear, or would it just be pushed down for a while?

Peter: (thinks for a moment) …Probably disappear for a while. But I guess eventually something else would come up, like, “Do I really deserve to be loved?” or something like that.

John: Exactly. That’s the heart of the problem. If being loved is what you use to prove that you have value, then your sense of worth will always be unstable, because it depends on another person continuing to choose you and continuing not to leave you. But people change. They get tired. They make mistakes. Sometimes they leave. The identity God gives you isn’t something another person has to prove for you. Strictly speaking, God doesn’t love you because you meet some standard and therefore deserve to be loved. The cross of Christ shows exactly the opposite: you didn’t have to prove that you were worthy first. God loved you while you were still undeserving. This isn’t some cheesy message saying, “Who cares if you’re single?” It means that if your sense of worth is rooted here first, then whether you’re single or in a relationship, that insecurity can gradually loosen its grip. The Puritan tradition often emphasized something important: we’re not merely declared “not guilty” by God as though He were a judge. We’re brought into His family. J. I. Packer said that being adopted as God’s children is one of the highest privileges the gospel gives us. You’re not rescued and then left standing off to the side. You’re loved and cared for as a son or daughter.

Peter: (sighs) I understand the idea, but knowing something and actually feeling it are so far apart. My mom texted me yesterday saying, “Your cousin is engaged.” When I saw that message, I couldn’t think about any of this theology. I just felt awful.

John: I agree. This isn’t a road you finish by hearing the right answer once. It’s something you have to come back to again and again. Every time that feeling rises up, you choose again to believe what the gospel says instead of what Instagram—or your mom’s text messages—are telling you.

Jack: (takes the conversation in another direction) Then let me ask something more directly. When it comes to physical boundaries, honestly, a big part of why I’m trying to keep them right now is because I’m afraid of sinning and messing things up, not because I really understand what’s good about the boundaries themselves. Is that… a problem?

John: That’s a very honest question. A lot of students I’ve talked to feel the same way. Let me give you the short answer first: being afraid of sin isn’t completely useless. The Bible does talk about the fear of God. But if fear is the only thing holding you back, your boundaries will be fragile, because fear can be pushed aside—especially when emotions and attraction are intense.

Jack: (honestly) To be real, in my last relationship there was a time when we almost crossed a line. What stopped me wasn’t some deep understanding of why the boundary was good. I suddenly thought, “What if people in the fellowship found out?” That fear of being embarrassed basically stopped me. Looking back, the reason I stopped wasn’t exactly spiritual.

John: At least it stopped you, and that’s not a bad thing. I’m not going to say, “Your motivation wasn’t pure, so keeping that boundary doesn’t count.” But you already see the problem. A boundary held together by fear of embarrassment may not hold when no one is watching, or when the relationship becomes more emotionally intense.

Amy: (curious) So what does it mean to “understand the goodness of the boundary”? As someone who isn’t really a Christian, honestly, I don’t see what’s so “good” about these boundaries. They just look like a bunch of rules.

John: Let me put it this way. The biblical idea behind physical boundaries isn’t “sex is dirty and dangerous, so be careful.” It’s that sex is meant to point toward a complete, public, lifelong commitment. Within the covenant of marriage, two people give themselves fully to each other without keeping a backup plan. To use that gift outside that covenant is, in one sense, to give the most vulnerable parts of yourself to another person before there is the protection and commitment of that lifelong covenant. That can leave people deeply hurt, and it can also make it easier to treat the other person as someone who satisfies your needs rather than someone you are committed to treasure for life. It’s not that God made a bunch of rules just to test you. He is protecting something He considers precious.

Amy: (thoughtful, but not completely convinced) …That explanation is better than the “just wait until marriage” version I’ve heard before. But I still don’t get it. If two people both want it and respect each other, why does it have to wait for a piece of paper?

John: That’s an honest question. I’m not going to convince you in three sentences. We can keep talking about it in the second half. But let me come back to Jack. If you can slowly move from “I’m afraid of sinning” to “I understand that this is protecting something good and beautiful,” then keeping the boundary will change from “I’m forcing myself not to do this” to “I’m choosing to live out something God considers beautiful.” The motivation is completely different. And there really isn’t a neutral middle ground here. The apologetic tradition associated with Cornelius Van Til has repeatedly emphasized that everything we do—including how we treat our own bodies—is never simply something we do from a completely neutral position before deciding what we believe. It already reflects what we worship. Either you’re using your body to worship the God who created your body, or you’re using your body to worship something else—maybe a feeling, maybe the need to prove that someone wants you, maybe other people’s approval. There’s no such thing as putting faith aside and talking about the body as though the two had nothing to do with each other.

Discussion

In this part, Amy asked what is really different about Christian dating. Peter talked about how being single can make him feel that he isn’t good enough, and Jack admitted that much of his motivation for keeping physical boundaries comes from fear of sin rather than understanding what is good about those boundaries. John said that the key difference in Christian dating isn’t the label but “why you’re together” and “where you go when things go wrong.” He also said that being loved cannot be used to prove your worth, because your identity and value have already been established in Christ. Discuss:

1) Of these three issues—the core purpose of dating, singleness and your sense of worth, and the motivation behind keeping boundaries—which one connects with you most deeply, or which one do you most want to ask about?

2) If you’re willing, share your own experience—or something you’ve seen a friend go through.

2. What Do I Do When Love Isn’t What I Imagined?

Jack: (continuing the conversation from the first half) Speaking of “waiting until marriage,” when I told my roommate about this, he’s not a Christian, and he immediately said I was “repressed.” He said that needing some piece of paper before you can do anything is so old-fashioned. I didn’t really know how to answer. All I could say was, “It’s part of my faith.” But honestly, that answer didn’t sound very convincing. I’m not sure I was even convinced by it myself.

Amy: (nods) I used to think that too. In our Gender Studies class, the professor put it even more directly. She said that historically, the idea of sexual purity was basically a tool used by patriarchal societies to control women’s bodies and make sure property and family lines were passed down properly. It had nothing to do with some idea of “goodness.” It was basically a leftover from old power structures, just packaged in a softer way today. When I first heard Tom talk about these things, part of me actually resisted. I wondered if I was being brainwashed.

Tom: (a little awkward) I never meant to brainwash you…

John: (to Amy) I completely understand why you would have that concern. And historically, there really have been cases where churches abused the language of “sexual purity” to control people, especially women. Those were real harms, and I’m not going to deny or minimize them. But let me ask you to think about something. You just said, “If two people both want it and respect each other, that should be enough.” So consent is the standard you use to decide whether something is right or wrong, correct?

Amy: Yeah. I think if both people consent and no one is being harmed, then no one else has the right to say it’s wrong.

John: Then let me ask one more question. Why is consent important? Why couldn’t the rule simply be, “Whoever is stronger, whoever has more power, or whoever can convince the other person gets to do whatever they want”?

Amy: (a little impatient) Obviously not. That would be exploitation. It would be disrespectful.

John: When you say “disrespectful,” you’re already assuming something important: every human being has a kind of dignity that shouldn’t be violated or treated casually. A person isn’t an object that can simply be used. Even if someone agrees to something, even if there’s a huge difference in power, that doesn’t mean you can ignore that person’s dignity and vulnerability. That belief—that human beings have dignity and should never be treated merely as tools—doesn’t naturally come from the idea that we’re simply animals that evolved to survive and reproduce. If human beings are ultimately nothing more than that, then bodies and sex are, at the end of the day, just tools for passing on genes. Why should consent matter more than successful reproduction? Why should it matter more than genetic efficiency? I’m not saying your view doesn’t come from good intentions. I’m pointing out that you’re also relying on a belief that human beings have a value beyond their physical bodies and are worthy of being treated with care. The Bible would tell you that this is because human beings are made in the image of God.

Amy: (quiet for a moment) …I’ve never thought about it that way. I always assumed that consent was obviously the standard. I never thought about the fact that even that standard needs some kind of foundation.

Jack: (jumps in) So does that mean I can use this to shut down my roommate? Next time he says I’m repressed, I can ask him, “Why does consent matter?”

John: (laughs) You can ask him, but don’t expect one question to completely defeat someone in an argument. This is more about helping you understand your own position than giving you a weapon to win debates. And I want to be honest: this question only shows that your standard also needs a deeper foundation. It doesn’t directly prove that Christianity is true. That’s a much longer conversation, and we’re not going to finish it today.

Amy: (thoughtfully) …I need to think about this. I’m not ready to accept it right away, but I admit it makes it harder for me to be quite as confident about my original position.

Tom: (shifts back to his own situation, struggling a little) Then let me ask something more personal. Amy is interested in Christianity but doesn’t believe yet. Things between us are really good, but there’s something I’ve been struggling with. If she never believes, should we keep moving forward knowing that this relationship isn’t really what it should be? But if I break up with her because of that, it feels so harsh. She’s actually slowly becoming more interested in faith.

Amy: (a little hurt) …You’ve never told me you were struggling with this. I thought we were doing pretty well.

John: Tom, I really appreciate you being willing to say this out loud. That tension is real, and I’m not going to pretend it isn’t. The Bible does warn believers not to be “unequally yoked” with unbelievers. That isn’t about saying Amy has less value, and it isn’t saying that non-Christians aren’t worth loving. It’s because marriage means walking together through the deepest parts of life for the rest of your lives. If two people have fundamentally different answers about the ultimate meaning of life and what they ultimately depend on, that can make the road especially difficult, particularly when hard things come—like raising children or facing illness and death.

Amy: (quietly) So are you saying there’s no future for us?

John: I don’t have the right to make that decision for either of you. I only want to say two things. First, this doesn’t mean you should start pretending to believe just to make the relationship work. That wouldn’t be honest with you or with the faith. God wants you to genuinely be drawn to Him, not to pretend in order to keep a relationship. Second, Tom, the fact that you’re already struggling with this is a signal that the two of you need to talk honestly about it. Don’t just keep moving forward hoping the problem will somehow solve itself. And don’t use the vague hope that “maybe she’ll believe someday” to avoid dealing with something you already know you need to face.

Tom: (sighs) …I really have been avoiding this. I’m afraid that talking about it means we might have to break up, and I’m afraid of hurting her.

(Amy is silent for a moment, then turns toward Tom, her voice slightly trembling.)

Amy: Tom, I want to ask you something, and I want you to answer honestly. Is part of the reason you’re with me because you hope that someday you can “bring me to faith”? Because if that’s true, I think I’d feel like you’re not loving me as a complete person. I’d feel like I’m just some unfinished project.

Tom: (stunned, then very seriously) No. At least… not completely. I really do hope you’ll come to know God, because I genuinely think that would be good for you. But I don’t love you because you “haven’t believed yet.” I love you because you’re you—because of the way you smile, the patience you have when you stay up late helping me edit my papers, the way you remember little things I mentioned once. Those things have nothing to do with whether you believe or not. Those are the things I liked about you from the beginning.

Amy: (eyes a little red) Then when you said “knowingly doing something wrong”… it sounded like you were saying that being together like this is already a mistake.

Tom: (quickly) That’s not what I meant. I’m not really afraid of “right now.” I’m afraid of what happens later. What if we actually get to the point of getting married and then something really hard happens—like one of us gets sick, or we have a huge fight? My instinct might be to turn to prayer and my faith to get through it, while you might not have that same source of support. What if, in those moments, we’re actually facing life separately instead of facing it together?

Amy: (quiet for a moment) …I’ve never thought about it from that angle. I always thought you were worried about whether what we’re doing right now is right or wrong. I didn’t realize you were thinking about what might happen later.

John: (gently) Tom, being willing to say that fear out loud instead of continuing to keep it vague is already a difficult and important step. Amy, I also want you to think about something. Your concern about being treated like a “project” is legitimate, and it deserves to be taken seriously. But at the same time, what Tom is struggling with isn’t whether he should love you. He’s asking what it means to love you responsibly. Those are two different questions.

Amy: (thinks for a moment, then speaks more calmly) So… what are we supposed to do now? I don’t think I’m ready to say, “Okay, I believe,” because that wouldn’t be honest with myself. Just like you said.

Tom: (relieved, but also a little sad) I don’t know exactly what we’re supposed to do either. I just know that pretending this issue doesn’t exist would be worse than talking about it.

John: I can’t solve this for the two of you. Talking about it honestly today doesn’t mean you have to reach a conclusion today. You can give yourselves some time and make a point of talking about it honestly from time to time instead of swallowing the conversation every time it gets uncomfortable. Where this relationship goes from here ultimately depends on whether Amy herself is genuinely drawn to God. That isn’t something Tom can decide for you, and it’s not something you can produce simply by waiting long enough.

Jack: But if you really get to the point where you have to make a decision, does that automatically mean you have to break up?

John: I’m not going to give you a formula that says “you must” or “you must not.” That’s not a decision I can make for them. What I can say is that avoiding the issue is riskier than honestly facing it. Avoiding the tension won’t make it disappear. It usually just pushes the problem down until it explodes later, when the damage can be much greater.

Jenny: (takes the conversation in another direction) Speaking of “just moving forward,” something else came to mind. This happened to a friend of mine—not dating, but a hookup situation. There’s a girl who lives next door to us in residence. She’s said herself that she doesn’t want “all the responsibility that comes with a relationship,” so she’s had those kinds of casual relationships with several people. She always says, “I know exactly what I’m doing, and I don’t regret it.” She posts pictures on social media that make her look really carefree and confident. But last semester she got drunk one night and told me that after each of those relationships ends, she actually feels more empty and less secure. She just doesn’t dare say that around other people because she’s afraid they’ll think she’s “not cool enough.”

Peter: Is that connected to the romantic couple photos we see all over Instagram? I mean, we’re constantly seeing people showing off their relationships and casual dating, and it starts to feel completely normal. Like you’re the weird one if you’re not doing it.

John: That’s a really perceptive observation. Social media gives us two illusions. One is, “Everyone else is happier than I am.” The other is, “Casual relationships are normal, and taking relationships seriously is old-fashioned.” Put those two illusions together, and they quietly change your expectations about what a “normal” relationship is supposed to look like. You might say you don’t care, but your internal standard may already have been quietly shifted.

Jack: Is this basically the same thing we talked about in the first lesson—using your phone or sports to fill the emptiness inside?

John: Very similar. The difference is that here, what’s being used to fill the emptiness is something much more intimate and much easier to mistake for “love”—physical intimacy. And that makes it more dangerous, because physical intimacy can easily be mistaken for actually being loved and valued emotionally. Sometimes it’s really just a powerful physical and hormonal experience creating the feeling. When that feeling fades, the emptiness can actually feel even stronger.

Peter: (remembering the discussion from before) So is this also just another branch growing from the same root?

John: Very possibly. And I want to add something. Even Christians who grew up in church and take sexual purity very seriously can still have the same root problem. I know students who have strictly kept the physical boundary everyone talks about, and the whole fellowship praises them for being so self-controlled. But privately, they may be trapped in pornography or sexual fantasies because the deeper issue was never dealt with. The real problem was the desire to possess someone’s body, or possess a certain feeling, in order to prove to yourself that you are loved. The outside rule may be kept, but the root inside is still growing. It just comes out somewhere more hidden, somewhere no one can see. We talked about this last time: you can’t deal with one particular sin while leaving all the other sins untouched. It’s the same here. Not having sex with someone doesn’t automatically mean you’re living in sexual purity. If the desire to use physical feelings to prove that you’re loved or needed hasn’t been touched by the gospel, then it’s still alive. It has simply found somewhere else to grow.

Tom: (seriously) So what do we actually do? Surely the answer can’t just be “try harder and use more willpower.” We already know that doesn’t work very well.

John: Willpower can help for a while, but it won’t carry you forever. What lasts is becoming increasingly convinced—and increasingly confident—that you don’t need physical intimacy, or any particular relationship, to prove that you are loved or valuable. In Christ, that question has already been settled. That doesn’t make you cold or emotionless. It actually frees you to love people without coming to them desperately thinking, “I have to get something from this person.”

Jenny: (thinking back to the beginning, her voice becoming quieter) There’s something else I want to talk about. A close friend of mine was cheated on by her boyfriend last semester, and he also manipulated and emotionally abused her. The damage wasn’t physical. It was like he slowly controlled her and tore her down until she stopped believing she deserved to be treated well. Even now, when she looks in the mirror, she sometimes wants to cry. I’m still walking through this with her, and honestly, I feel both angry and helpless. I want to ask: if God is just and loving, why does He allow something like this to happen to someone who believes in Him?

Peter: (a little helpless) Should we… say something encouraging to her?

John: (shakes his head at Peter) Don’t rush to give an answer. Jenny, I can’t give you an answer that will make that question disappear right now. If I gave you some explanation about “God’s good plan” at this moment, I might actually just be rubbing salt into the wound. What I can say is that God is never indifferent to people being harmed or manipulated. Again and again in the Bible, God shows His anger toward oppression and speaks of defending those who are being mistreated. The hurt your friend has experienced is seen by God, and it matters to Him. That isn’t just an empty phrase.

Jenny: Then how should I be there for her?

John: Don’t rush her into “getting over it,” and don’t rush to analyze the relationship for her and explain everything that went wrong. What she may need most right now is simply someone who will believe what she says without judging her, stay with her, and help her know that she isn’t crazy and she isn’t overreacting. As for the question, “Why would God allow this?” we can carry that question together. It doesn’t have to be answered today. But we can bring it honestly before God together, slowly and truthfully.

Discussion

This part began with Amy questioning whether the idea of sexual purity is really just a tool of patriarchal control, followed by Tom opening up about his struggle over being in a relationship with Amy while she does not yet believe. Then Jenny talked about the hurt her friend experienced after being cheated on and emotionally manipulated. John used the question “Why is consent important?” to push deeper into the idea that all values are merely relative, and he also reminded everyone that keeping an external boundary does not necessarily mean the deeper desires in our hearts have been dealt with. Discuss:

1) Of these three issues—whether sexual purity is actually oppressive, what to do when you’re in a relationship with someone who doesn’t share your faith, and how to walk alongside a friend who has been hurt—which one are you or someone close to you dealing with right now?

2) If you’re willing, share what the situation actually looks like and what your biggest question or struggle is right now.

　　（这周下过雨，几把伞还在门边滴水，桌上放着 Jack 顺路买的一盒甜甜圈）

一、基督徒让我失望的时候，我该往哪里去？

　　Tom：（把手机推到桌子中间，气鼓鼓的）你们看到没有，那个网上很火的牧师，被爆出来挪用教会的钱，还跟同工有不清不楚的关系。评论区都在骂，我看了半天，心里挺不是滋味的。

　　Jack：看到了，我室友还专门发给我，加了一句「你们基督徒不都这样」。

　　Tom：他这么说的时候，你怎么回？

　　Jack：（苦笑）我当时其实没什么好回的，因为……我自己也见过类似的事。我教会有个执事，平时讲道、带查经一套一套的，结果私下对下面做事的人特别刻薄，讲话很伤人，我们几个年轻人私下都说，宁可他别讲道了。

　　Amy：（Tom的女朋友，第一次来聚会，坐得有点靠外）那我可以说句可能不太中听的话吗？我不是基督徒，我是因为Tom才来的。说实话，每次看到这种新闻，我心里想的都是——如果神真的在，为什么这些人还能一边讲台上讲得那么感人，一边私底下这样。我不是想挑衅，我是真的想不通。

　　Peter：（叹气）这不公平吧？一个人做错事，凭什么整个信仰都要背锅？我又没让他去偷教会的钱。

　　John：（原本坐在角落安静听着，这时抬起头接话）你说得对，Peter，一竿子打翻一船人确实不公平——但我要老实说，神也不是「随便啦」的态度。圣经里有句话，是先知拿单指着大卫说的，说他犯的那件事，让仇敌大得亵渎耶和华的机会。神很在意祂的名被这样糟蹋，这不是轻描淡写的事。

　　Amy：（有点意外）等等，神会为这个生气？我一直以为，宗教嘛，反正劝人向善，做不到也没什么大不了，谁不是嘴上一套、做起来又是另一套。

　　John：如果基督教只是「一套劝人向善的道理」，那你说的没错，说到做不到，顶多算说话不算数。但基督教从一开始讲的就不是「一套道理」，是「这位神真的在意祂的百姓怎么代表祂」——所以你们对那个牧师的愤怒，某个角度上，其实是跟神的心一致的，不是你们太敏感、太苛刻。

　　Jenny：（沉默了一下，声音低下来）John，那我可以说一件事吗……我其实不只是「看到别人的事」而已。我高三那年，教会的一个姐妹知道我家里的事——我爸妈那阵子在闹离婚——她答应我保密，结果没过多久，团契里好几个人都知道了，还有人私下问我「你还好吗」，那种被当成话题议论的感觉，我到现在想起来都很难受。那一年我差点就不去教会了，甚至有一阵子想，如果这就是「教会」，那耶稣大概也没那么可信。

　　Peter：（有点意外）你从来没跟我们说过这个。

　　Jenny：（勉强笑笑）说出来才发现，我好像一直把「那个姐妹让我失望」跟「神让我失望」混在一起，分不清楚。

　　John：这个混淆，我遇到过太多学生有一样的挣扎，我完全理解为什么会这样——因为你认识神，很大一部分是透过那些代表祂的人，所以当那个人伤了你，感觉上好像神也在里面伤了你。但我想请你想一件事：那个姐妹泄露你的事，是耶稣教她这样做的吗？还是她自己心里那个爱说话、想显得自己知道内幕的软弱，在那一刻赢了？

　　Jenny：（想了想）……当然不是耶稣教她的，圣经里明明讲要谨守口舌。

　　John：那你看，伤害你的，其实不是耶稣的教导，反而是那个姐妹没有活出耶稣的教导。如果你因为这件事离开信仰，某个角度说，是让那个让你受伤的人，替耶稣背了这个锅，而耶稣自己反而是那个教她「不要这样做」的那一位。这不代表你受的伤不算数，你受的伤是真的，值得被承认、被难过，我不是要你现在就说「没关系」。但这两件事——「这个人让我失望」和「神/信仰是假的」——是两件不同的事，值得分开来看。

　　Jenny：（眼眶有点红）……我好像从来没有人这样跟我讲过，我以为伤我的和信仰是一回事。

　　Amy：（若有所思，插话）可是……John，我还是没完全被说服。你说「伤害你的不是耶稣的教导」，这个逻辑我懂。但站在我这个外人的角度，我看到的不是「一个姐妹没做好」，我看到的是——这种事在教会里好像特别常见，八卦、议论、拉帮结派，跟我们宿舍楼那些事其实没什么两样。如果基督徒跟普通人一样会做这些事，那我为什么要多花时间搞清楚耶稣是谁，直接过我自己的生活不是一样吗？

　　John：（没有回避）这是个很诚实的问题，Amy，谢谢你愿意说出来。我等一下想跟大家一起把这个问题往下挖一层，因为它其实比「这个牧师做错事」更根本——它问的是，如果基督徒本来就会犯错，那基督教到底还有什么用。这个我们下半场会专门谈，先让我把这半场剩下的事说完，好吗？

　　Amy：（点头）好。

　　Jack：（想了想，换个角度）那老一辈基督徒呢？我不是说泄密那种事，是……我家教会几个长辈，天天拿他们那一套标准要求我——该读什么专业，说CS、Business才算「祝福家人」，我要是说自己对别的感兴趣，他们就摇头叹气；交朋友也要管，说这个太世俗、那个教会不够「纯正」。我知道他们是关心我，但那种被审判的感觉，真的很压抑，有时候比外面那些丑闻更让我想离开教会。

　　Tom：（半开玩笑，带点课堂腔调）说到这个，我们Sociology课上讲过，每一代人的「道德标准」其实都是那个时代的产物，我爸妈那一辈觉得读CS才叫成功，是因为他们那个年代移民过来穷怕了，跟圣经没关系，是文化，跟我这代人根本不是一套价值体系。所以Jack你被要求，某种意义上是两代人的文化冲突，不是「圣经」跟「你」的冲突。

　　John：这个观察有一半是对的，Tom，我不否认这里面确实有很大一块是文化、是那一代人的恐惧和面子，不是圣经的要求。但我要提醒一句——「这是文化产物，不是圣经」这句话本身，也可以反过来问你自己：你觉得「该尊重每个人自己的选择」，会不会也是你这个时代、这个社会灌给你的一套「文化产物」，而不是什么客观对的事？如果什么都能被拆穿成「不过是某个时代的产物」，那你我坐在这里讲的每一句话，包括你现在这句，也逃不过这个拆法。

　　Tom：（愣了一下，没立刻接话）

　　John：我不是要否定你的观察，Jack这件事上，我觉得你的委屈是真的，我们要一起去分辨。一个笨但管用的办法——问自己，长辈的这个要求，是能从圣经具体讲出道理的，还是「大家都这样」「面子上过不去」「我们那个年代都是这样」。前者你可以认真考虑，甚至顺服；后者你可以尊重他们的感受，但不代表你要照做。福音给你的身份，不是靠读对专业、嫁娶对的人来的，是基督已经把你接纳了。你不需要用「让长辈满意」去换那个已经白白给你的接纳。

　　Jack：（松了口气，但仍有保留）……这个我需要回去慢慢想，毕竟我爸妈还是每周都会问我GPA。

　　Peter：那具体怎么办？下次我爸又开始念叨我该转专业的时候，我总不能当场就跟他说「这是你的文化产物」吧，那家里能吵翻天。

　　John：（笑）那肯定不行，讲道理的方式也很重要。我建议先不急着当场辩，先自己安静下来问：这件事上，我心里到底是「因为怕让爸妈失望」而顺服，还是「因为我真的信这是对的」而顺服？如果是前者，你顺服了也不会真正踏实，只是把「靠爸妈的认可活着」换了个说法。如果你发现自己是被「怕」推着走，那更需要先回到神那里，让福音先安顿你，再去跟爸妈谈，那时候你讲出来的话，才不是「我在跟你们对着干」，是「我在向神负责，也愿意听你们的建议」。

讨论：

这一场里，几个朋友聊到了网上曝光的牧师丑闻、Amy作为一个还未信主的朋友对教会八卦的失望、Jenny被教会姐妹泄密的伤害、还有Jack被长辈用文化标准要求的压抑。John提醒Jenny，「那个人让我失望」和「神/信仰是假的」是两件需要分开来看的事。请讨论：

1) 想一想，身边有没有让你对教会、对基督徒失望甚至受伤的人或事——可能是网上看到的，也可能是像Jenny、Jack那样很贴身的经历，甚至是像Amy一样，作为旁观者对教会某些行为感到失望。那件事，在你心里，多大程度上是「某个人让我失望」，多大程度上又悄悄变成了「所以信仰本身也不可信」？

2) 愿意的话，跟大家说说是什么事，以及你现在怎么看这两者之间的关系。

二、如果基督徒都这样，还有盼望吗？

　　Tom：（半开玩笑，半认真）行吧，那我接着上半场没问完的问题——如果基督徒里到处都是这种事，从网红牧师到教会执事，再到Jack说的长辈，那是不是刚好证明了，这套「信仰」从头到尾就是场骗局？我们Poli Sci的Seminar上礼拜刚好在讲这个，教授说所谓「道德」「善恶」，从头到尾都是权力的游戏，谁掌握话语权，谁就定义什么是罪、什么是圣洁，宗教史上到处都是这种双标——十字军、宗教裁判所，历史上这种例子一大把。基督徒骂别人罪，自己犯罪的时候一堆借口，这不正好印证了？

　　Jack：（点头附和）我是觉得，至少这说明，「信」跟「行」是两回事，光有一套漂亮的道理没用。

　　Amy：（认真地）我同意Tom。而且说实话，我觉得如果一套东西讲得再好听，做的人做不到，那这套东西对我来说就没有实际意义。我不需要一套「理论上完美」的东西，我需要看得见、摸得着的东西。

　　John：（没有立刻反驳）Tom、Amy，我想先问一件事——Tom你刚才用了「双标」「骗局」这两个词，你在说那个牧师、那些长辈的时候，心里是真的觉得他们做错了，还是只是「他们被抓到了，输了这场权力游戏」？

　　Tom：（愣了一下）……当然是真的觉得他们做错了。

　　John：那我想请你想清楚一件事——如果道德真的只是权力的游戏，谁掌握话语权谁说了算，那你刚才那句「他们做错了」，凭什么成立？如果一切只是权力，那牧师赢了就是赢了，你现在骂他，不也是想抢回话语权而已吗？你的愤怒里面，其实藏着一个你自己都没有意识到的假设——真的有一种「不该这样对人」的标准，不是谁力气大谁说了算。

　　Tom：（皱眉，想反驳但一时说不出）……那也可能只是我自己也在玩这场权力游戏，我在道德上占领高地而已。

　　John：这个说法你也可以套用在任何一句话上，包括你自己说的每一句话——包括你现在讲的这套「一切都是权力」的理论。如果什么都能被解释成「只是想抢话语权」，那你这句话本身，是不是也只是你想抢话语权？这套理论一旦彻底套用到底，它会连自己都吃掉，没有一句话能站得住，包括它自己。我不是要跟你辩赢，是想让你看到——你今天那股「这不公平」的感觉，其实不是因为你信了什么理论，是因为你心里，一直都知道有一种「不该这样」的真实标准，这标准不是你发明的，也不是那个牧师发明的，是你们两个都要向它交账的。

　　Amy：（沉默了一下）……可我还是觉得，就算真的有这样一个标准，那也不代表这个标准就是「基督教说的那个神」。也可能只是人类演化出来的、为了群体能活下去的一套本能而已，跟神没关系。

　　John：这个问题问得很好，我没办法在这半小时里跟你讲完整套论证，但我可以给你一个方向想——如果道德真的只是演化出来的、为了让群体活下去的本能，那它的作用就该是「有用」，不是「真」。可你我在说「那个牧师做错了」的时候，讲的不是「这样做对群体存续不利」，是「这样做本身就是不该的，哪怕对群体有利也不该」。演化能给你「有用」的本能，给不出「不该」这种超出利益计算的真实感。你我心里那种「不该」的分量，比一套生存本能重得多，这份重量，从哪里来的，是我想留给你们回去自己想的问题——我今天没办法替你们信，但我想让你们看清楚，这不是一个可以轻轻带过的问题。

　　Peter：（若有所思）所以……我们对那些人生气，其实不是「反对信仰」，反而恰恰是因为信仰里那个「神在意公义」的标准，已经在我们心里了？

　　John：对，而且这也直接回答了你的问题，Tom——基督教从来没说过信了就不会再犯罪，圣经讲的刚好相反。我要说一件我今天还没说的事：Peter，上个月小组作业，你们组有个不信主的同学，工作分配特别不均，你心里其实很不爽，但嘴上没说，反而在他不在的时候，跟另外两个组员吐槽他「态度有问题」，这事你还记得吗？

　　Peter：（有点尴尬）你怎么知道这个……对，我记得，后来那个同学不知道怎么听说了，我们后面合作就很尴尬，我那天晚上想，我平时嘴上说自己是基督徒，结果做的事，跟我们今天骂的那个牧师，其实是一个性质。

　　Jenny：（叹气）我也是，说实话我室友知道我是基督徒，但她从来没跟我提过信仰的事，我猜她大概觉得「基督徒也就那样」，因为她好几次看到我因为due赶不完在崩溃大哭，情绪很差的时候讲话也很冲，跟我平时在团契的样子完全不一样。有一次她还半开玩笑地说：「你们信主的不是应该更平安吗，怎么比我压力还大。」我当时笑笑带过去了，但心里挺不是滋味的。

　　Tom：（半开玩笑，半认真）所以我们今天骂的那个牧师，跟Peter、Jenny，其实半斤八两？

　　John：（不回避）某个角度说，是的，程度不一样，但性质是一样的——都是自己嘴上信的，跟实际活出来的，对不上。我们今天骂那个牧师、那个执事，很容易，因为他们的事被摆到台面上了；但每一个信主的人，包括在座每一位、也包括我自己，身上都有这个落差，只是有没有被人看见而已。说个不太光彩的事给你们壮壮胆——我上周开车被加塞，路怒到差点在Broadway上追那辆车，追到一半突然意识到我车上挂着团契的名牌，那一刻真的很想找个地缝钻进去。所以不是我站在这里居高临下地讲道理，我自己昨天可能才刚犯完。

　　Jack：那这样是不是说明，基督教就是没用的？信了这么久，还是这样，那信跟不信有什么差别？

　　John：这就是我想澄清的地方——十九世纪普林斯顿神学院有一位神学家叫贺智（Charles Hodge），他讲过一个很重要的区分，叫「有形的教会」和「无形的教会」。大意是——我们眼睛能看见的教会，也就是每周聚会、报名受洗、挂名会友的那个群体，里面一定会混杂着真信和假信的人，这是没办法在这辈子彻底分清楚的；但「无形的教会」，是神自己认识、真正重生得救的那一群人，这个名单只有神知道。他讲这个不是要我们对有形教会失望，是要提醒我们，不要把「这个人挂名是基督徒」直接等同于「这个人真的重生了」，那个牧师的事被揭发，恰恰说明教会从来不是靠「筛掉坏人」来证明自己是真的，是靠福音本身。

　　Jenny：那这不是更让人绝望吗？如果连教会里的人都分不清真假，那到底要怎么样才算「活出信仰」？

　　John：贺智讲这个区分，不是要让你对每个人都心生怀疑，是要把你从「靠教会里的人有多完美，来判断信仰是不是真的」这个死胡同里拉出来。骄傲、爱面子、论断人、贪心、情绪失控，这些根在信主的人身上都还在，只是这一刻从这个人身上冒出来，下一刻可能从另一个人身上冒出来，我自己也不例外。这不是给谁开脱的理由，是要你们看清楚——不该因为「教会里还有罪」就震惊，反而应该震惊的是，神竟然愿意跟一群这样的人立约、住在他们中间。基督教从来没说信了就不会再犯罪，它讲的刚好相反——是因为知道人人都有罪，所以福音才不是「你要表现好，神才要你」，是「你还在罪中的时候，基督已经为你死了」。如果哪天教会里全是完人，那才真的说明这套道理是假的，因为它自己讲的就是「这是一群蒙恩的罪人」，不是「这是一群完美的人」。

　　Amy：（想了想，语气软下来）……这个说法我倒是第一次听到，跟我以前想的「宗教就是要教人变好」不太一样。听起来你们讲的，好像重点根本不在「谁表现更好」。

　　John：对，重点从来不在「谁表现更好」，是在「谁愿意承认自己撑不住、需要被接住」。这也是为什么Amy你今天看到的这些让你失望的事，我不会叫你「多给点时间就好了」，我反而想请你问一个更前面的问题——如果连基督徒自己都承认「我们做不到」，那你觉得，一个「承认自己做不到、却相信有人替他做到了」的信仰，跟一个「假装自己做得到」的信仰，哪一个更值得你认真考虑？

　　Amy：（沉默）……我需要再想想，这个问题跟我原来想的方向不太一样。

　　Tom：（沉默一下，没有反驳，只是若有所思）……这个说法我倒是第一次听到有人这么讲，之前听到的都是「基督徒要做光做盐、做好榜样」，从来没人跟我说「教会本来就是一群还在犯罪的人」。

　　John：会做光做盐，是因为被恩典改变了，这是真的，我不是要否定这个。但那不是靠我们表演出来的，是恩典慢慢做的工，而且永远做不完，这辈子都做不完。

　　（门被轻轻推开，Grace走进来，眼睛有点红，大家都安静下来）

　　Grace：（声音有点哑）不好意思，我来晚了……我奶奶昨天晚上突然走了，心脏的事，很突然，我人在这边都没能回去。

　　Jenny：（马上起身，扶她坐下）Grace……你还好吗？要不要先坐一下？

　　Grace：（勉强笑了一下）我没事，就是……我其实不知道自己现在是什么感觉，一会儿觉得很难过，一会儿又觉得很麻木，坐在这里听你们说话，突然就绷不住了。

　　Peter：（有点手足无措，看向John）我们……要不要说点什么安慰她？

　　John：（对Peter摇摇头，然后对Grace）Grace，你不需要现在就整理好情绪，也不需要现在给我们一个「答案」，我们就在这里陪着你。

　　（沉默了几秒）

　　Grace：（低声）我这几天脑子里一直转一个问题……我奶奶信主信了快五十年，教会里的人都知道她，很多人的信仰都是被她带出来的。可就是这样一个人，走的时候，家里人一个都没在旁边，是保姆发现的。我不是不信神有主权，可我心里就是忍不住问——神，祢真的顾念她吗？她这么爱祢，祢就让她这样孤零零地走？

　　Tom：（本想说点什么鼓励的话，但看John没开口，也没接话）

　　John：（没有立刻回答，过了几秒才开口）Grace，我没有一个能马上让这个问题消失的答案，如果有人现在跟你说「一切都有神的美意」，我完全理解你可能会想直接走出这个房间。

　　Grace：（苦笑）……是有人这么跟我说过，我当时真的很想直接挂电话。

　　John：我想说的，可能没那么有安慰效果，但我觉得是真的——耶稣自己的朋友拉撒路死的时候，圣经记着，耶稣哭了。祂不是不知道自己马上要让拉撒路复活，祂完全知道，可祂还是站在坟墓前哭。神不是站在远处看着我们的痛苦、冷冷地说这一切都在计划之中，祂自己进到了这个痛苦里面，甚至后来自己也死了。

　　Jenny：（小声）可这解决不了「为什么」的问题啊……为什么神不能让她走的时候，身边有人陪着？

　　John：这个「为什么」，我今天没办法给你们一个完整的答案，我也不想装作我有。神的主权跟神的良善，从来不是圣经里一道能被我们完全算清楚的数学题，我们只能看见拼图的一小块，看不见全部。我能说的是，神没有承诺我们，爱祂的人就不会经历这样的事，祂承诺的是——不管这件事有多痛，祂都在里面，而且十字架已经证明了，祂不是一个对苦难无动于衷的神，祂自己承受过最深的孤单，被父离弃、被门徒抛下、独自死去。有一天，所有这些不能被人回答的「为什么」，会有一个最终的交代，那一天以前，我们能做的，是彼此陪着，像今天这样。

　　Peter：（迟疑地）Grace，那……你现在需要我们做什么？

　　Grace：（想了想）不需要你们说什么让我立刻好起来的话，就……让我今天可以在这里哭一下，不用马上就没事，就好。

　　（大家安静地坐着，Jenny轻轻握住Grace的手）

　　Amy：（轻声，有点犹豫）我可以留下来一起坐一会儿吗？我没有信主，不知道该说什么，但我不想现在就走。

　　Grace：（看向她，点点头）谢谢你。

　　John：（过了一会儿，轻声）我们可以为Grace的奶奶、为Grace的家人祷告，不是求一个「为什么」的答案，是求神此刻就在Grace心里，陪着她走过这几天。

讨论：

这一场从Tom提出「道德只是权力游戏，基督教是骗局」的说法开始，到Amy作为旁观者质疑「说得好听做不到就没意义」，再到Peter、Jenny承认自己私下的言行也曾让人对信仰失望，再到Grace带着奶奶骤逝的消息来到团契、John没有给答案只是陪着她。请讨论：

1) 这一路听下来，从「别人的虚伪证明信仰是假的」，到「我自己可能也是让人失望的那一个」，再到「苦难临到一个爱神的人身上，神在哪里」——哪一段最戳中你？

2) 愿意的话，跟大家说说为什么，以及你希望自己接下来怎么去回应它。

Lesson 2: Why Do Some Christians Disappoint Me? — Sin and Grace

(It rained this week. A few umbrellas are still dripping by the door, and there’s a box of donuts that Jack picked up on the way sitting on the table.)

1. When Christians Disappoint Me, Where Do I Go?

Tom: (pushes his phone into the middle of the table, clearly upset) Did you guys see this? That pastor who’s been all over the internet got exposed for misusing church money and having an inappropriate relationship with someone on his staff. Everyone in the comments is tearing him apart. I’ve been reading it for a while, and honestly, it just leaves me feeling really uncomfortable.

Jack: Yeah, I saw it. My roommate actually sent it to me with a message: “Aren’t all you Christians basically like this?”

Tom: What did you say to him?

Jack: (laughs bitterly) Honestly, I didn’t really know what to say, because… I’ve seen something similar myself. There’s a deacon at my church who’s really polished when he preaches and leads Bible studies, but privately he’s really harsh toward the people working under him. The way he talks to people can be really hurtful. A few of us younger people have actually said privately that we’d rather he just stop preaching.

Amy: (Tom’s girlfriend; this is her first time at the fellowship, and she sits a little farther away from the group) Can I say something that might not sound very nice? I’m not a Christian. I’m here because of Tom. Honestly, whenever I see news like this, what goes through my mind is: if God really exists, then why can these people stand up there and give such moving sermons while living like this in private? I’m not trying to provoke anyone. I genuinely don’t understand.

Peter: (sighs) That doesn’t seem fair, though. If one person does something wrong, why does the whole faith have to take the blame? I didn’t tell him to steal money from the church.

John: (He has been sitting quietly in the corner listening. Now he looks up and joins in.) You’re right, Peter. Throwing everyone into the same boat just because of one person really isn’t fair. But I also want to be honest: God doesn’t have a “whatever, it’s fine” attitude about this either. There’s a passage in the Bible where the prophet Nathan confronts David and tells him that what David did gave the enemies of God an opportunity to blaspheme the Lord. God cares deeply about what happens to His name when people who claim to represent Him do things like this. It’s not something He takes lightly.

Amy: (a little surprised) Wait. God gets angry about that? I always thought religion was basically about encouraging people to be good. If people don’t live up to it, then so what? Everyone says one thing and does another sometimes.

John: If Christianity were simply “a set of teachings about being a good person,” then you’d be right. If you say something but don’t live up to it, at most you could say you’re being inconsistent. But Christianity has never been just “a set of ideas.” From the beginning, it has said that the real God actually cares about how His people represent Him. So in one sense, your anger toward that pastor is actually consistent with God’s own concern. You’re not necessarily being too sensitive or too judgmental.

Jenny: (goes quiet for a moment, then speaks more softly) John, can I tell you something? I’m actually not just talking about things I’ve seen happen to other people. When I was in Grade 12, a woman at my church knew what was happening in my family—my parents were going through a divorce at the time. She promised me she would keep it private, but before long, several people in the fellowship knew about it. Some people even came up to me privately and asked, “Are you okay?” I still remember how awful it felt to realize that my personal situation had become something people were talking about. That year, I almost stopped going to church. For a while, I even thought, “If this is what church is like, then maybe Jesus isn’t as trustworthy as I thought.”

Peter: (a little surprised) You’ve never told us about this.

Jenny: (forces a small smile) Saying it out loud makes me realize that I’ve probably been mixing up “that woman disappointed me” with “God disappointed me.” I never really separated the two.

John: I’ve seen so many students struggle with exactly that confusion, and I completely understand why it happens. A lot of the way we come to know God is through people who represent Him. So when one of those people hurts you, it can feel like God Himself is somehow the one who hurt you. But let me ask you to think about something: Did Jesus teach that woman to expose your private situation? Or was it her own weakness—the part of her that wanted to talk, or wanted to feel like she knew something other people didn’t—that won in that moment?

Jenny: (thinks for a moment) …Of course not. Jesus didn’t teach her to do that. The Bible clearly tells us to control our speech.

John: Exactly. So look at what happened. What hurt you wasn’t Jesus’ teaching. It was that woman failing to live according to Jesus’ teaching. If you walk away from the faith because of what happened, then in a sense, the person who hurt you ends up taking Jesus’ place. She becomes the one you blame for what you believe about Jesus, even though Jesus Himself is the one who teaches people not to do what she did. That doesn’t mean your hurt doesn’t matter. It does matter. What happened to you was real, and you have every right to grieve it. I’m not asking you to say, “It’s okay,” right now. I’m saying that these are two different things: “This person disappointed me” and “God or Christianity must therefore be false.” They deserve to be looked at separately.

Jenny: (her eyes become a little red) …I don’t think anyone has ever explained it to me that way. I thought the person who hurt me and my faith were basically the same thing.

Amy: (thoughtfully) But… John, I’m still not completely convinced. I understand your logic when you say, “The person who hurt you wasn’t following Jesus’ teaching.” But from the outside, what I see isn’t just “one person failed.” I see this kind of thing happening in churches all the time—gossip, people talking behind each other’s backs, cliques. Honestly, it’s not that different from what happens in my residence building. If Christians do these things just like everyone else, then why should I spend extra time figuring out who Jesus is? Why not just live my own life?

John: (doesn’t avoid the question) That’s a very honest question, Amy. Thank you for being willing to say it. I want us to dig one level deeper into that question in the second half, because it’s actually more fundamental than “that pastor did something wrong.” What you’re really asking is: if Christians still make mistakes, then what is Christianity actually good for? We’re going to spend the second half talking about that. For now, let me finish what we need to talk about in this first half, okay?

Amy: (nods) Okay.

Jack: (thinks for a moment, then approaches it from another angle) What about older Christians? I’m not talking about someone leaking private information. I mean… there are a few older people at my church who constantly use their own standards to judge me. They tell me what I should study. They say things like, “If you study CS or Business, that’s how you bless your family.” If I say I’m interested in something else, they shake their heads and sigh. They even try to control who I’m friends with. This person is too worldly, that church isn’t “pure” enough. I know they care about me, but being constantly judged like that is really suffocating. Sometimes it makes me want to leave the church even more than some of the scandals we hear about.

Tom: (half-joking, with the kind of academic tone he picked up in class) Actually, we talked about this in Sociology. Every generation’s “moral standards” are shaped by the culture of its time. My parents’ generation thinks studying CS means you’re successful because they immigrated here during a time when they were scared of being poor. That has more to do with culture than the Bible. Their generation and mine don’t have exactly the same value system. So in a sense, Jack, what you’re experiencing is a cultural conflict between generations, not really a conflict between “the Bible” and “you.”

John: I think you’re half right about that, Tom. I’m not denying that a lot of this really does come from culture, fear, and concern about what other people think, rather than from anything the Bible actually requires. But I want to point out one thing: when you say, “That’s just a cultural product, not something from the Bible,” you can turn that question back on yourself. Do you think “everyone should be respected in their own choices” might also be a “cultural product” that your generation and your society have given you? What makes it objectively right? If everything can be reduced to “just a product of a particular time and culture,” then everything we’re saying here—including what you just said—can be reduced in exactly the same way.

Tom: (is caught off guard and doesn’t respond immediately)

John: I’m not trying to dismiss your observation. Jack, I think your frustration is real, and we need to work through it carefully. One simple but useful way to do that is to ask yourself: Can this expectation from an older Christian actually be supported by a specific teaching from the Bible, or is it really just “everyone does this,” “it would look bad if we didn’t,” or “that’s just how things were when we were growing up”? If it’s the first, then you should seriously consider it and may even need to submit to it. If it’s the second, you can respect their feelings without necessarily doing what they want. Your identity in the gospel doesn’t come from choosing the right major or marrying the right person. Christ has already accepted you. You don’t need to earn that acceptance by making your elders happy.

Jack: (looks relieved, but still has some reservations) …I need to think about that. My parents still ask me about my GPA every week.

Peter: So what am I actually supposed to do? Next time my dad starts telling me I should switch majors, I can’t exactly say, “That’s just your cultural conditioning.” That would start a huge fight at home.

John: (laughs) Definitely don’t say it like that. The way you communicate matters too. I’d suggest that you don’t rush into an argument right there. First, take some time by yourself and ask: “When I obey my parents in this situation, am I doing it because I’m afraid of disappointing them, or because I genuinely believe what they’re asking is right?” If it’s the first, then even if you obey, you probably won’t have real peace. You’ve just changed the way you’re trying to live for your parents’ approval. If you realize that fear is driving you, then you especially need to go back to God first and let the gospel settle your heart. Then talk with your parents. At that point, what you say won’t be, “I’m fighting against you.” It will be, “I’m responsible to God, and I’m still willing to listen to your advice.”

Discussion

In this part, the friends talked about a pastor’s scandal that was exposed online, Amy’s disappointment as someone who doesn’t yet believe in Jesus when she sees gossip and other problems in the church, the hurt Jenny experienced when a woman at church shared something she had promised to keep private, and the pressure Jack feels when older Christians impose cultural expectations on him. John reminded Jenny that “this person disappointed me” and “God or Christianity must therefore be false” are two different things that need to be separated. Discuss:

1) Think about someone or something in your own life that has made you disappointed in, or even hurt by, the church or by Christians. It might be something you saw online, something personal like Jenny’s or Jack’s experience, or even something like Amy’s experience of being an outsider looking at the church. To what extent, in your heart, was it “this person disappointed me”? And to what extent did it quietly become “therefore Christianity itself can’t be trusted”?

2) If you’re willing, share what happened and how you see the relationship between those two things now.

2. If Christians Are Like This, Is There Any Hope?

Tom: (half-joking, half-serious) Okay, then let me go back to the question I didn’t finish in the first half. If there’s this much of this kind of thing among Christians—from famous pastors online, to church deacons, to the older Christians Jack was talking about—doesn’t that actually prove that this whole “faith” is just a scam? We talked about this in our Poli Sci seminar last week. The professor said that what we call “morality,” “good,” and “evil” are basically games of power. Whoever controls the conversation gets to define what counts as sin and what counts as holiness. There are examples of this all throughout religious history—the Crusades, the Inquisition, all kinds of double standards. Christians condemn other people for sinning, but when they sin themselves, they always seem to have an excuse. Doesn’t that prove the point?

Jack: (nods) I think at the very least it shows that “believing” and “living it out” are two different things. Having a nice set of teachings doesn’t mean much if nobody actually lives by them.

Amy: (seriously) I agree with Tom. And honestly, if a system sounds great but the people who follow it can’t actually live it out, then it doesn’t have much practical meaning for me. I don’t need something that is “perfect in theory.” I need something I can actually see and experience.

John: (doesn’t immediately argue back) Tom, Amy, let me ask you one thing first. Tom, you used the words “double standard” and “scam.” When you talk about that pastor and those older Christians, do you genuinely think what they did was wrong, or do you simply think they “got caught and lost the power game”?

Tom: (caught off guard) …Of course I genuinely think they did something wrong.

John: Then I want you to think carefully about something. If morality really is nothing more than a game of power—if whoever controls the conversation gets to decide what’s right and wrong—then what makes your statement, “They did something wrong,” actually true? If everything is just about power, then if that pastor has the power, he wins. And if you criticize him, aren’t you just trying to take the power back? There’s actually an assumption hidden inside your anger that you may not have noticed: there really is a standard that says, “You should not treat people this way.” It isn’t simply a matter of whoever has more power getting to make the rules.

Tom: (frowns, wanting to argue back but unable to respond immediately) …Maybe I’m just playing the same power game. Maybe I’m just trying to claim the moral high ground.

John: You can apply that explanation to literally any statement, including your own. You can even apply it to this theory that “everything is about power.” If everything can be explained as “you’re just trying to gain power,” then isn’t that statement itself just another attempt to gain power? Once you apply that theory all the way to the end, it eats itself. No statement can stand, including the theory itself. I’m not trying to win an argument with you. I want you to see something: that feeling you had today that “this isn’t right” isn’t simply because you’ve adopted some theory. It’s because deep down, you already know there is some real standard of “this should not happen.” You didn’t invent that standard, and that pastor didn’t invent it either. Both of you are accountable to it.

Amy: (quiet for a moment) …But even if there really is some kind of moral standard, that doesn’t mean the standard comes from “the God Christianity talks about.” Maybe it’s just something human beings evolved because it helped groups survive. Maybe it has nothing to do with God.

John: That’s a really good question. I can’t give you the whole argument in thirty minutes, but I can give you something to think about. If morality is really just an instinct that evolved because it helped groups survive, then its function would be to be “useful,” not necessarily to be “true.” But when you and I say, “That pastor did something wrong,” we’re not saying, “That behaviour is bad for the survival of the group.” We’re saying, “What he did was wrong in itself. He shouldn’t have done it even if, somehow, it benefited the group.” Evolution may explain why we have certain useful instincts, but it doesn’t by itself explain the sense of “should not” that goes beyond calculating what benefits us. The weight we feel when we say “this should not happen” seems heavier than a mere survival instinct. Where that weight comes from is something I want you to go home and think about. I can’t make you believe it today, but I want you to see that this is not a question we can simply brush aside.

Peter: (thoughtfully) So… when we get angry at people like that, it’s not necessarily because we’re rejecting Christianity. In a sense, it could actually be because the Christian belief that “God cares about justice” has already given us that standard inside us?

John: Exactly. And that also directly answers your question, Tom. Christianity has never said that once you believe, you’ll stop sinning. The Bible actually says the opposite. Let me tell you something I haven’t brought up tonight. Peter, remember that group project last month? There was a non-Christian student in your group, and you were really unhappy because the work wasn’t being divided fairly. You didn’t say anything to him directly, but when he wasn’t there, you complained about him to the other two people and said he had a bad attitude. Remember that?

Peter: (embarrassed) How did you know about that…? Yeah, I remember. Somehow that student heard about it, and things became really awkward between us afterward. That night I thought, “I go around saying I’m a Christian, but what I did was basically the same kind of thing we’re criticizing that pastor for.”

Jenny: (sighs) Same for me. Honestly, my roommate knows I’m a Christian, but she’s never really asked me about my faith. I’m guessing she probably thinks, “Christians are basically like everyone else.” She’s seen me completely break down because I couldn’t finish an assignment before the deadline, and when I’m stressed I can be really harsh with people. I’m completely different from the person she sees at fellowship. One time she even joked, “Aren’t Christians supposed to have more peace? Why do you seem more stressed than I am?” I laughed it off at the time, but it really bothered me.

Tom: (half-joking, half-serious) So the pastor we were criticizing today and Peter and Jenny are basically all in the same boat?

John: (doesn’t avoid the question) In one sense, yes. The degree is different, but the basic problem is the same: what we say we believe doesn’t always match the way we actually live. It’s easy to criticize that pastor or that deacon because their actions have been put on public display. But every Christian, including every person sitting here—and me too—has this same gap between what we say and how we live. The only question is whether other people happen to see it. Let me tell you something that isn’t exactly flattering, just so you know you’re not alone. Last week someone cut me off while I was driving, and I got so angry that I almost chased the car down Broadway. Halfway through, I suddenly realized I had the fellowship’s name tag hanging in my car. I honestly wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. So I’m not standing here above you giving you a lecture. I may have done something embarrassing myself just yesterday.

Jack: Then doesn’t that mean Christianity is useless? If you’ve believed for this long and you’re still like this, what’s the difference between believing and not believing?

John: This is the part I really want to clarify. There was a nineteenth-century theologian at Princeton Seminary named Charles Hodge who made an important distinction between the “visible church” and the “invisible church.” Basically, the church we can see—the group that gathers every week, gets baptized, and has its name on the membership list—will always contain a mixture of genuine believers and people who only appear to believe. We cannot completely separate the two in this life. But the “invisible church” is the group of people whom God Himself knows as truly regenerated and saved. Only God knows that complete list. Hodge wasn’t saying this to make us disappointed in the visible church. He was reminding us not to assume that “this person is officially a Christian” automatically means “this person has truly been born again.” The fact that this pastor was exposed doesn’t prove that Christianity is fake. It actually shows that the church has never depended on filtering out every bad person in order to prove that the gospel is true. Its foundation is the gospel itself.

Jenny: Doesn’t that make things even more hopeless? If we can’t even tell who in the church is genuine and who isn’t, then what does it actually mean to “live out your faith”?

John: Hodge’s distinction isn’t meant to make you suspicious of everyone around you. It’s meant to pull you out of a dead end—the idea that you can determine whether Christianity is true by looking at how perfect the people in the church are. Pride, caring too much about what people think, judging others, greed, losing control of our emotions—those things are still present in people who genuinely believe. One moment they may show up in one person, and the next moment they may show up in someone else. I’m no exception. That isn’t an excuse for anyone’s behaviour. It’s meant to help you understand something: we shouldn’t be shocked that there is still sin in the church. What should actually amaze us is that God is willing to make a covenant with people like us and live among us. Christianity has never said that once you believe, you will never sin again. It says the opposite. It is precisely because everyone is sinful that the gospel is not, “You have to perform well enough for God to want you.” It is, “While you were still a sinner, Christ died for you.” If one day you walked into a church and found nothing but perfect people, that would actually be evidence against what Christianity teaches, because Christianity says the church is a community of sinners who have received grace, not a community of perfect people.

Amy: (thinks for a moment, her tone becoming softer) …That’s actually the first time I’ve heard Christianity explained that way. It’s very different from the way I used to think about religion—as basically something that teaches people to become better. The way you’re describing it, the main issue isn’t really “Who behaves better?”

John: Exactly. The issue has never been “Who performs better?” It’s “Who is willing to admit that they can’t hold themselves together and need someone to hold them up?” That’s also why, Amy, when you see these things that disappoint you today, I’m not going to tell you, “Just give it more time and you’ll see.” Instead, I want you to ask a question that goes one step further back. If Christians themselves admit, “We can’t do this perfectly,” then which kind of faith do you think is more worth seriously considering: a faith that says, “Admit that you can’t do it, but believe that someone has done it for you,” or a faith that says, “Pretend you can do it”?

Amy: (quiet for a moment) …I need to think about that. That’s not really the direction I was expecting this conversation to go.

Tom: (quiet for a moment, not arguing, just thinking) …I’ve never heard anyone put it that way either. Most of what I’ve heard is, “Christians need to be salt and light,” “Christians need to set a good example.” Nobody ever told me, “The church is basically a group of people who are still struggling with sin.”

John: We are called to be salt and light because grace changes us. That part is true, and I’m not denying it. But it isn’t something we perform by our own strength. It’s something grace gradually works in us, and that work is never finished in this life.

(The door opens quietly. Grace walks in, her eyes a little red. Everyone becomes quiet.)

Grace: (her voice is a little hoarse) Sorry I’m late… My grandma passed away suddenly last night. It was a heart problem. It happened so suddenly that I couldn’t even get home in time.

Jenny: (immediately gets up and helps her sit down) Grace… are you okay? Do you want to sit down for a bit?

Grace: (forces a small smile) I’m okay. It’s just… I don’t really know what I’m feeling right now. One minute I’m really sad, and the next I feel completely numb. I was sitting here listening to you guys, and suddenly I just couldn’t hold it together anymore.

Peter: (a little helpless, looking at John) Should we… say something to comfort her?

John: (shakes his head at Peter, then speaks to Grace) Grace, you don’t need to sort out your emotions right now, and you don’t need to give us some kind of “answer.” We’re just going to stay here with you.

(There is silence for a few seconds.)

Grace: (quietly) There’s a question that’s been going around in my head for the past few days… My grandma had been a Christian for almost fifty years. Everyone at church knew her, and a lot of people actually came to faith because of her. But when she died, not one person in her family was there. Her caregiver was the one who found her. I’m not saying I don’t believe that God is sovereign, but I can’t stop asking… God, do You really care about her? She loved You so much, and You let her die alone like that?

Tom: (was about to say something encouraging, but seeing that John hasn’t spoken, he stays quiet.)

John: (doesn’t answer immediately; after a few seconds, he speaks) Grace, I don’t have an answer that can make that question disappear right now. And if someone were to tell you, “Everything happens for a reason, and God has a good plan,” I completely understand if you just wanted to walk out of this room.

Grace: (gives a bitter little smile) …Someone already said that to me. Honestly, I really wanted to hang up the phone.

John: What I want to say may not feel as comforting, but I believe it’s true. When Jesus’ friend Lazarus died, the Bible says Jesus wept. He knew He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead. He knew exactly what was going to happen, and He still stood there and cried at the tomb. God isn’t standing far away, watching our suffering and coldly saying, “It’s all part of the plan.” He entered into our suffering Himself. And eventually, He Himself died.

Jenny: (quietly) But that doesn’t answer the “why” question. Why couldn’t God have made sure someone was there with her when she died?

John: I can’t give you a complete answer to that “why” today, and I don’t want to pretend that I can. God’s sovereignty and God’s goodness are not a mathematical problem that we can completely solve. We can only see one small piece of the puzzle; we can’t see the whole picture. What I can say is that God never promised that people who love Him would never experience something like this. What He has promised is that no matter how painful something is, He is there in the middle of it. And the cross proves that He is not a God who is indifferent to suffering. He Himself experienced the deepest loneliness—abandoned by the Father, deserted by His disciples, and dying alone. One day, all those “whys” that no one can answer will finally have an answer. Until that day comes, what we can do is stay with one another, just like we’re doing tonight.

Peter: (hesitantly) Grace, then… what do you need us to do right now?

Grace: (thinks for a moment) I don’t need you to say something that’s supposed to make me feel better right away. I just… want to be able to sit here and cry today. I don’t want to have to be okay immediately. That’s all.

(Everyone sits quietly. Jenny gently holds Grace’s hand.)

Amy: (softly, a little hesitant) Can I stay here with you guys for a while? I’m not a Christian, and I don’t really know what to say, but I don’t want to leave right now.

Grace: (looks at her and nods) Thank you.

John: (after a while, quietly) We can pray for Grace’s grandma and for Grace’s family. We’re not going to ask God to give us an answer to the “why.” We’re going to ask Him to be with Grace right now and walk with her through these days.

Discussion

This part began with Tom saying, “Morality is just a game of power, so Christianity is a scam,” followed by Amy questioning whether a faith that sounds good but isn’t lived out has any real meaning. Peter and Jenny then admitted that their own private words and actions have sometimes made other people disappointed in Christianity. Finally, Grace arrived at the fellowship after the sudden death of her grandmother, and John did not give her an easy answer. He simply stayed with her. Discuss:

1) As you listen through this whole section—from “Other people’s hypocrisy proves that faith is false,” to “Maybe I’m also one of the people who disappoints others,” and finally to “When suffering comes to someone who loves God, where is God?”—which part speaks to you most deeply?

2) If you’re willing, share why, and how you hope to respond to it from here.

　　（周五晚上，大学团契活动室的灯光很明亮，桌上摆着几包薯片和一箱饮料。团契辅导员John还没有到，先到的几个人已经开始聊起来了。）

一、我是不是被控制了？

　　Peter：（把手机反扣在桌上，叹气）我昨晚又刷到两点。CPSC 210的project明明周五就due，我一个字没写。

　　Jenny：刷什么刷到两点？

　　Peter：也没干嘛，就是Reels，划一下，下一个；再划一下，下一个。中间还看了三条完全一样的猫视频，就因为算法觉得我会喜欢。我一开始跟自己说，写完这一part就奖励自己刷十分钟。结果两个小时过去，project一个字没多，我还觉得更累，不是更放松。

　　Tom：（耸肩）那不是很正常吗，我们不都这样？你想太多了吧。

　　Peter：我知道大家都这样，但我心里有个声音一直说：你这不是放松，是逃避。我是真的怕交不出project，怕到干脆不想面对，于是就划手机。可我又分不清，我是真的累了需要喘口气，还是在骗自己拖延。

　　John：（推门进来，放下东西，顺口接话）这个问题，我到这个年纪也一样分不清。

　　Tom：（半开玩笑）John哥你也失控？

　　John：（笑）我发现一个笨办法，不是看「我在做什么」，是看「我做完之后到底发生了什么」，你是不是更有能力回到该做的事情，还是更加不想面对它？但很多时候我们说的「放松」，做完之后是更空、更烦躁、更不想面对——这种，多半不是休息，而是麻醉。

　　Tom：这也太主观了吧。我打Valorant打完是爽的，那算休息还是麻醉？

　　John：不一定跟「爽不爽」绑定，不只是看当下爽不爽，也要看它在你生命中扮演了什么角色，以及做完以后，你有没有更自由地回到该做的事情上。你打完那盘，是可以放下、去洗漱、去睡觉，还是心里空落落的，还想再排一把、再刷一条？

　　Tom：（沉默一下）……后者比较多，尤其是输了那盘还想扳回来。但那不能证明游戏有问题，可能只是我这周赶due压力大而已。

　　John：有可能。我不是说游戏有问题，是说，当一件事变成你「必须靠它才能撑过去」的东西，它在你生命中的位置就变了。

　　Jenny：（小声，带点不好意思）那我知道那种感觉。我刷小红书跟Ins，嘴上说随便看看，但每次刷完看到别人宿舍布置得那么好看、假期又去了哪里旅游，我心里都更焦虑，觉得自己这也不够那也不够。可我还是忍不住点开，一天能点好几十次。为什么会这样？

　　Jack：（半开玩笑）你这是欲望的死循环——越焦虑越想看，看完更焦虑。

　　Jenny：对，就是这样，但我讲不清楚为什么，中文词汇不太够……那种感觉我懂，但说不出道理。

　　Peter：（转向John）那到底怎么分辨「享受一个爱好」跟「被它控制」？有没有具体一点的信号？

　　Tom：（抢话，有点不服气）我先说我的标准——如果我不打游戏还能正常过日子、按时交作业，那就没被控制，对吧？

　　John：那是一个信号，但太晚了。我倒觉得更早的信号，是你被打断的时候的反应。比如你正刷着剧，室友叫你帮个忙，或者你想起该祷告了，那一刻你心里冒出来的是「好，等一下也没事」，还是一股烦躁、抗拒、几乎生气的感觉？

　　Jack：还有一个信号，我自己也有——你愿不愿意让人看见你花在这上面的时间。我手机有个屏幕使用时间统计，我每次看到那个数字，第一反应是把它划掉，而不是给别人看。这算不算一个信号？

　　John：（点头）这是个很好的信号。躲躲藏藏，有时是一个值得追问的信号：我为什么不想让别人知道？我是在隐藏罪，还是只是害怕被误解、被控制？我到底在保护什么？

　　Tom：（仍有点抗拒）可这样说的话，几乎所有让人开心的事都能被你说成「被控制」，那是不是什么都不能好好享受了？

　　John：（认真地，不急着反驳）Tom，这个担心是对的，我要是给你的印象是「小心，什么都可能是偶像」，那我传达错了。享受一件好东西，跟被它控制，中间那条线不是「你多喜欢它」，也不是「它能不能被放下」，更要看你是不是开始靠它得到那些只有神才能成为你根基的东西——你的满足、保障、身份、安慰或者盼望。游戏、视频、朋友圈可以让我们享受神所赐的普遍恩典，问题出在我们把它们放到了只有神才应该占的位置，让这些东西成了我们确认自己「今天过得好不好」、「我值不值得被喜欢」的唯一来源。它们扛不住这个位置，因为它们从来不是为了承担这个位置而被造的。

　　Tom：（想了想，没有立刻反驳，但也没完全服气）……我需要再想想。这个屏幕使用时间的事，我其实也不太敢看我自己的。

　　Peter：（想起什么）说到「什么才对」……我上周Philosophy 100的Tutorial，TA讲后现代那一段，说什么「宏大叙事」（grand narrative）都靠不住，每个文化、每个人对「好的生活」的定义都不一样，没有谁能说自己那套是唯一对的。我当时听着觉得挺有道理，下课路上就顺手把这套用在自己身上——那我说「我被手机控制了」，会不会也只是我给自己套的一个「叙事」？说不定对另一个人来说，天天刷两小时就是他的normal，谁有资格说这不对？

　　Jack：（笑）你这是把哲学课当借口继续刷手机吧。

　　Peter：（不好意思地笑）也不是完全没有，但我是真的会被这个说法绕进去——如果什么都是「对我而言」真实，那「逃避」 vs 「放松」这种分辨，是不是也只是我自己给自己贴的标签，没有客观对错？

　　John：这个问题问得好，而且比Tom刚才那个还要往下扎一层。Tom问的是「哪种应对方式更有效」，你现在问的是「有没有一个不靠我自己定义的标准，来判断什么是对的」。这其实是两个不同的问题。

　　Jenny：（皱眉）那这两个有什么不一样？我平时根本分不出来。

　　John：Tom那个问题，心理学、社会学都在研究——心理学可以观察冥想、运动，以及祷告所带来的某些心理体验，可以研究这些做法怎样影响人的情绪、压力和行为，但这些经验研究本身不能最终回答：人为什么活着、什么是真正的善、我们最终应该敬拜谁。

　　Peter：那你的答案是什么？

　　John：（诚实地）我没办法当场证明给你看，这不是三句话能说服人的事。但我想请你注意一件事——你说「什么都是各自的叙事，没有谁的更对」的时候，你自己心里其实还是分得出「逃避」跟「放松」的不一样，你今天一开始进门就说「我怕这不是放松，是逃避」，那句话里已经藏着一个判断——你认定「逃避」是不好的、「放松」是好的。如果真的一切都只是各自的叙事、没有客观对错，你为什么还会因为「逃避」而不安？

　　Peter：（愣了一下）……因为感觉不对。

　　John：那种「感觉不对」，往深里追，其实是在说——你心里知道有一个「应该」的样子，你现在的生活没有活出那个样子。这个「应该」似乎不是你自己发明的叙事，如果是你自己发明的，你随时可以改写它、让自己心安理得。可你改写不了，你还是会内疚、会不安。这至少说明，你自己的主观感觉似乎不能解释完这个问题。你为什么会觉得有一个「应该」？这个「应该」到底从哪里来？

　　Tom：（插话）可万一那个「应该」也是被家庭、教会、文化塑造出来的呢？我从小去教会，我这个「内疚感」会不会只是从小被训练出来的反应，不是什么「客观真实」？

　　John：这是个诚实的质疑，我不会假装它不成立，说实话我大一上Philosophy 101的时候，也拿这句话怼过我们团契的辅导员，效果拔群，直接把他问住了半分钟——所以Tom，你不是第一个想到这招的人。我只能说——如果连「觉得不对」这种感觉都能被完全解释成「被训练出来的」，那你此刻质疑我、质疑教会教导的这个念头，是不是也是被你的Philosophy课、被这个时代的文化训练出来的？如果相对主义说一切判断都只是被文化塑造出来的，那我们还得继续追问：这个「一切都是被塑造的」判断本身，又凭什么是对的？所以，如果把相对主义进行到底，它会把自己也吃掉，有点像那种自己咬自己尾巴的蛇。护教学家范泰尔（Cornelius Van Til）常年讲的就是这个——他说，没有人真的活在「中立」的立场上，每个人骨子里要么承认神是那个让一切判断、一切理性都站得住的根基，要么就是在借用这个根基的同时，嘴上否认它存在。你刚才那句「这只是被训练出来的」，其实也是站在某个「应该客观」的立场上说话，你没办法真的做到彻底中立。我不是要用这个把你说服，是想说——这条路走到最后，其实并不会让人真的更自由，只是把「该信什么」从教会手里，换到了这个时代的另一套叙事手里而已。

　　Peter：（慢慢地）……所以你不是说「不能怀疑」，是说「怀疑」这件事本身，也需要一个立足点，不然怀疑到最后连自己站在哪都不知道。

　　John：对，我完全鼓励你怀疑、追问，福音经得起这些问题。我只是不希望你们把「后现代」这套工具，用来把所有让自己不舒服的真相都挡在外面，包括挡住神。

讨论：

刚才几个朋友聊到了拖延赶due、刷短视频、比较别人的生活、打游戏输赢，也聊到了「什么都是各自的叙事，没有客观对错」这种想法。John提到了两个具体的信号：做完之后是「更有力气」还是「更空虚」，被打断时是「能放下」还是「抗拒到几乎生气」；Jack又补了第三个：你愿不愿意让别人看见你花在这上面的时间。请讨论：

1) 用这三个信号——事后感受、被打断的反应、愿不愿意被看见——检视一下自己最近的手机、游戏、追剧习惯，你觉得自己更靠近「享受」，还是更靠近「逃避」？愿意的话，跟大家说说是什么让你有这个感觉。

2) Peter提到，自己在哲学课上学到的「后现代」思路，会不会让他连「逃避不对」这种感觉都开始怀疑。你在学校的课堂上，有没有遇到过类似的、让你开始怀疑信仰或道德判断的说法？当时你是怎么处理这个张力的？

二、什么才能让我满足？

　　Jack：（自嘲）说到「不敢看数字」，我跟你们说个更丢人的。上周末Canucks输了，我那一整天心情都是坏的，室友跟我说话我都爱理不理，晚饭也没什么胃口。我自己都觉得——这至于吗？一场球赛而已，我又不认识那些球员。

　　Tom：正常吧，我上周排位掉了一个段位，一晚上心情全毁，第二天上课都没听进去。

　　Jack：可我后来仔细想，我那天的反应，跟我上次微积分考砸了的反应，其实差不多重。这就有点奇怪了——一场球赛，怎么能跟我准备了几个月的考试占同样的分量？

　　Jenny：（若有所思）可能不是球赛本身重要，是那场球赛那一刻，好像代表了「今天到底顺不顺」？

　　John：这个观察很准。心情被一场比赛整个接管，往往不是那件事本身有多重要，是它悄悄坐上了一个不属于它的位置——那个决定「我今天过得好不好」的位置。

　　Tom：（这次是真的不服气）那照这个逻辑，是不是打游戏看剧都要提心吊胆、时刻反省？「无论做什么都要为荣耀神而行」——难道打游戏之前还要先祷告一下才能玩？这不就是另一种规矩，跟我妈以前管我一样，最后谁还敢放松？

　　Peter：（帮腔）对啊，这样听起来，信主之后好像什么都不能痛快享受了。

　　John：我懂你们担心什么，如果「为神的荣耀而活」变成「打游戏前先做属灵体操」，那真的很累，也不是圣经原本的意思。

　　Tom：那到底怎么理解？

　　John：我问你，Tom，你有没有过这种时刻——你在做一件很享受的事，心里不需要逃避，也没有觉得必须靠它证明什么，就是单纯地享受神给你的恩赐；做完以后，你也能够放下它，回到该做的事情上？

　　Tom：……有。上次周末我们几个打了几个小时排位，赢了以后一起在Discord里笑了半天，后来我就关掉电脑睡觉了，第二天照样起来做该做的事。

　　John：那至少说明那一次你是在享受，而不是完全被它牵着走。问题不是「打游戏」这件事，是——你打游戏的时候，心是自由的，还是在靠它填一个「洞」？如果是前者，享受就是享受；如果是后者，问题不在游戏，是那个洞需要被别的东西填。这个「洞」，就是人离开神以后，就会不断从受造物里寻找满足、安慰、身份和安全感。

　　Jack：（想了想）所以不是「能不能做」的问题，是「靠什么活着」的问题。

　　Peter：那如果我发现自己经常是「填洞」，是不是干脆就该把游戏卸载、把追剧App删了？

　　John：（摇头）如果只是删App，可能撑一个礼拜。因为，如果心里真正的问题没有被处理，有时就会换一样东西继续承担原来那个功能，可能是别的App，也可能是别的东西。

　　Jack：（点头）我室友就是这样。他上学期发现自己刷Instagram刷到影响睡眠，直接把App全删了，还买了个Opal锁手机，狠了整整两周，我们都觉得他挺厉害。结果第三周他把App全装回来了，比之前刷得更凶，还多了个毛病——开始疯狂网购，说是「奖励自己坚持了两周」。

　　Peter：（笑）这也太惨了。

　　Jack：他自己也很崩溃，说感觉自己好像「戒断」了手机，却什么都没解决，只是换了个东西逃避而已。

　　Jenny：不是所有的方法都不管用吧？我室友Amy也是因为刷手机刷到快挂科，她学期初就开始跟她们查经班的一个学姐做accountability，每周固定报一次自己的屏幕使用时间，学姐也不是审判她，就是问问、陪她祷告。这学期她真的好很多，屏幕时间从每天六七个小时降到两三个小时，人也精神很多。

　　Tom：那不就证明这个方法有效吗？

　　Jenny：（犹豫）有效，但……也没有完全好。上次期中周她还是整晚整晚地刷，跟学姐报告的时候，她说她其实有点想少报一点、或者干脆那周不报了，怕学姐失望。她自己也说，感觉像是从「手机」换成了「怕让人失望」在管着她，压力小了一点，但那个「靠外面的东西撑着才不崩」的感觉，好像还在，只是换了个形状。

　　John：（点头）这正是我想说的下一件事。Amy找accountability，方向是对的，这不是白做的，神也真的会用这样的关系帮助我们——但如果只到这一步就停下来，她可能开始把「学姐会不会失望」当成了自己必须靠着才能撑住的东西。那个「必须靠外面的东西才能撑过去」的核心，其实没有被处理，只是换了一个更体面、看起来更属灵的外壳。

　　Jack：这么说，那些方法（删App、找人监督、锁手机）到底有没有用？

　　John：有用，但它们的位置要摆对。它们是「先抽出手边的那根柴」，能帮你争取一点空间、少一点马上跌倒的机会，这是好的、是智慧的，我完全鼓励你们用。但它们解决不了「为什么我一空虚就要抓东西」这个更深的问题。这就是我等一下想跟你们说的——一个人没办法只处理某一件事上的问题，却放着心里那个更根本的东西不管。

　　Tom：（挑刺，带着点上课学来的腔调）可是这样讲会不会太绝对了？我们Sociology课教授上周才讲，每个人应对压力的方式不一样，有人靠祷告，有人靠冥想，有人靠运动，这些都只是不同的coping mechanism，没有哪个比哪个更「真」，只是对不同的人有效或没效而已。你凭什么说基督徒这套就比较对？

　　John：（没有立刻反驳）这个说法我上大学的时候也信过一阵子。我完全同意，不同的应对方式确实对不同的人「有效」，冥想、运动这些确实能让很多人真的感觉好一点，这不是假的。我想问的不是「哪个更有效」，是「有效」到底是什么意思——是让你当下感觉好一点，还是真的解决了那个让你一直要抓东西填的洞。我刚才说的「填洞」，指的不是「有没有用」，而是那个洞会不会真的被填满、你会不会真的不再需要一直去抓。这是两个不同的问题，前一个心理学可以研究，后一个却不是心理学能够回答的。

　　Jenny：（想了想）我表姐去年开始看心理咨询，她说真的对她的焦虑有帮助，睡得比以前好很多。这个不算数吗？

　　John：当然算啊。我们不能因为心理学不是圣经，就说它观察到的东西全是假的。她焦虑减轻了、睡得好了，这些都是真的。问题是——你有没有想过，「心理学」其实不是一套东西？里面有很多不同的理论，而且它们对「人心里为什么会出现这些洞？怎么填这些洞？」，给出的答案差别可以非常大。

　　John：说实话，我也常常分不清，这不是一次分辨完就一劳永逸的事，是要不断诚实地问自己的。

　　Jenny：（转移话题，有点犹豫）那我可以问一个不太一样的吗……我最近花钱越来越大手大脚。温哥华什么都贵，我这学期光租房加保险就快一千二了，可我心里越焦虑，越想在网上买点衣服、买点护肤品让自己开心一下。买完是开心，但没多久又更焦虑，然后又想买。上个月我信用卡账单，光是网购就快四百刀，我都不敢跟爸妈说。

　　Peter：这不就跟手机一样吗？焦虑→做点什么→短暂舒服→更焦虑。

　　Jack：而且你也不敢让人看见那个账单，跟我不敢看屏幕使用时间一样。

　　John：（点头）你们已经看出规律了，这就是敬拜的规律——不管是手机、球赛、还是购物，人心一旦焦虑、空虚，就会本能地伸手抓一个东西来填。抓到的那一刻会舒服，但那个东西撑不住你，很快你又空了，又要再抓一次，而且越抓越不敢让人知道。偶像不一定是你嘴上说「我最爱它」的东西。偶像往往是你实际拿来获得满足、身份、安全感和盼望的东西。所以虽然手机、球赛、购物本身不是偶像，但它们都可能成为偶像。

　　Jack：那我们是不是应该一个一个来？先把手机这件事处理好，再处理购物，再处理别的？

　　John：这个想法很自然，但我要老实说，我不太相信这样行得通，而且不只是我个人的经验，十七世纪有一位叫约翰·欧文（John Owen）的牧师，专门写过一本讨论「治死罪」的书，他里面有一句话我一直记着，大意是——一个人不可能只单独治死一样罪，却放着别的罪不管；因为你若不是真心追求在神面前全面的圣洁，那你在某一件事上看起来「戒掉了」，其实也不是真的被治死，只是暂时被压下去、或者换了个地方冒出来而已。

　　Peter：（想到Jack室友的例子）就像Jack室友那样，手机戒了，网购冒出来了。

　　John：对，就是这个意思。欧文的意思不是说「你不用努力戒手机了，反正没用」，他其实特别强调要认真、具体地对付每一样具体的罪，不能笼统地说「我要变得更圣洁」就算了。他要说的是——如果你处理手机这件事的时候，心里真正在意的只是「我要把这一件事管好」，而不是被那个更根本的问题——我到底信不信神真的顾念我、我需不需要靠别的东西证明自己够好——挑战到，那手机这件事就算暂时压住了，心里的问题仍然没有被处理，很可能还会在别的地方表现出来。网购、拼命刷成绩证明自己、甚至看起来很「属灵」的忙碌服事，都可能是同一个根的不同枝子。

　　Tom：（认真起来，不再是抬杠的语气）那照这个说法，是不是意味着，永远没有真的「戒掉」的一天？

　　John：（诚实地）有些具体习惯，当然可能真的被戒掉；有些罪也会在我们的生命中明显地失去力量。但我们不能期待在今生把罪的根彻底拔干净，我们会一直在跟它打交道。我不想给你们一个「信主之后就再也不被这些东西缠住」的假承诺。但欧文说的不是「没有盼望」，他反而是说——治死罪不是靠「管好一件事」的技巧，是要一直被福音本身摸到那个更深的地方：我到底信不信，神已经在基督里完全接纳我了，不需要我靠手机、靠球赛、靠购物、靠成绩去证明什么。这件事没有一次做完，是要一直被提醒、一直回到这一点上。

　　Jenny：所以就算我把购物这件事管好了，如果心里那个「我不够好、要靠东西证明自己」的问题没有被处理，它还是会从别的地方冒出来？

　　John：很可能会。这不是要吓唬你们，是想让你们知道——如果哪天你们发现自己「戒」掉了一样东西，却在别的地方更失控，不要觉得奇怪，也不要因此就否定自己「完全没有长进」，这恰恰说明你们摸到了那个更深的根，这时候更需要的不是换一套新的自我管理方法，是重新回到福音——神接纳我，不是因为我管好了自己。

　　Tom：（沉默一下，没有反驳，只是若有所思）……我不知道我信不信这个，但我承认，我确实没有从游戏里得到过那种「够了」的感觉。

　　John：（不追问，让这句话留在那里）那就够了，今天不用马上信，先带着这个问题回去想。

　　Peter：（沉默了一下，还是忍不住问）可是……知道了这些道理，下次我又想刷手机逃避的时候，我具体要做什么？总不能就靠「想起来神爱我」这一句话吧，那时候脑子根本转不过来。

　　John：老实说，没有一招就灵的办法，我要是给你们一个技巧清单，那又变回另一种「必须做对才行」的规矩了。但我自己会做几件很笨的事，可能对你们有用。第一，那个想逃的冲动上来的时候，先别急着划手机，就老实跟神说一句：「我现在很累，很怕，我想靠这个逃开。」

　　Jenny：这个我试过。上次期中考前我真的这样说了，结果呢？我还是把手机拿起来了，照样刷了一个多小时。说了又怎样，感觉没什么用。

　　John：（没有立刻反驳）这个反馈很真实。我想澄清一下——说这句话，不是一个能马上让你放下手机的开关。它的作用不是「阻止你划手机」，是让你在划手机的时候，心里知道自己在做什么，而不是麻木地滑下去、假装什么都没发生。这两者感觉上差不多，但一个是继续骗自己，一个是清醒地知道自己在挣扎，提醒自己再问一句：「如果我现在不需要靠手机逃开，我今天应该顺服神去做什么？」有时候答案很普通——关掉手机，把project打开，先做十分钟。

　　Tom：（挑刺）那这跟自己给自己做心理建设有什么区别？我心情不好的时候也会跟自己说「没事的，冷静一下」，这算不算也是「祷告」？神到底有没有真的在听，还是我只是在自言自语让自己感觉好一点？

　　John：（诚实地）如果你问的是能不能用实验室里的方法证明神在听，我当然不能这样证明。我们的把握不是来自祷告之后感觉有没有变好，而是来自神自己的应许。我们相信祂听祷告，不是因为我们用实验验证了祂，而是因为祂在祂的话语中启示自己，并且借着基督使我们可以坦然来到祂面前。

　　Tom：（皱眉）我是觉得吧，每次都要跟人说「我又刷手机逃避了」「我又控制不住自己了」，那种感觉挺怪的，好像在团契里要交作业、汇报进度一样，甚至有点像博同情。而且万一说出去的事变成八卦怎么办？

　　Jack：（有点被戳到，但也认同）说实话我今天说屏幕使用时间那一下，心跳是有点快的。但也没有很可怕，大家没有笑我。

　　John：Tom说的风险是真实的，团契如果变成「汇报进度」或者传闲话，那是团契本身出了问题，不是这件事本身错了。我说的「不要一个人扛」，不是要你逢人就交代自己的挣扎，是至少让一两个信得过的人知道——你自己选，选那个不会拿你的软弱去说三道四的人。

　　John：第三，是花时间常常提醒自己，福音到底在说什么——神接纳我们，不是因为我们已经改变完全；恰恰因为已经在基督里蒙接纳，我们才有自由诚实地面对罪、与罪争战。基督已经为我们舍命，所以我不需要靠手机、成绩、球赛、购物或者别人的肯定来证明自己有价值。

　　Tom：（叹气）这句话我都听过不下一百遍了，从小听到大。「神爱你」「神先接纳你」——听多了跟鸡汤有什么区别？我妈也常说这些，但该管我的时候一样管。

　　John：如果只是把这句话当成一句可以反复播放的slogan，那确实会变成鸡汤，我同意。真正有用的时候，是你抓着这句话，去对付一个很具体的、你正在相信的谎言——比如「我这次没考好，我很没用」「我这周又逃避了，我大概不是真基督徒」。这句话不是用来让你感觉良好的口号，是用来直接反驳那个谎言的。如果没有对上具体的谎言，确实只是空话。

　　Peter：（老实说）那我说实话，我觉得我下次可能还是会刷手机。

　　John：（笑，没有否认）我也觉得会。这些不是保证书，我没办法跟你说「做到这三点，你就再也不会逃避了」，那是骗你们的。我能说的是，这是我自己一直在做、也一直做不好的事，而且我做了十年，还是常常做不好。

　　Tom：那如果十年都做不好，图什么？

　　John：（沉默一下，认真地）不是为了「做好」，是因为每一次这样做，哪怕当下没什么感觉，那种「必须靠它才能撑过去」的东西，会一点一点松开一些。不是马上发生，而是慢慢发生。我没办法向你证明这个，只能说这是我自己十年下来，能诚实告诉你们的。

讨论：

这几个朋友聊到了球赛输赢左右一整天心情、「为神的荣耀而活」会不会变成另一种规矩、花钱买东西却越买越焦虑、越不敢让人知道，也听到了两个室友的故事——一个删App后换成网购，一个找了accountability但压力换了个形状。John引用约翰·欧文的话说，若不治死所有的罪，就不能真正治死任何一个罪，因为很多看起来不一样的行为，可能是同一个根长出来的不同枝子。请讨论：

1) 想想你最近一次因为一件「小事」（一场比赛、一局游戏、一次网购）整个心情被左右的经历，那件小事是不是也悄悄坐上了「决定我今天好不好」的位置？

2) 你有没有过「戒掉」一样东西、却在另一件事上更失控的经历（不一定跟手机有关，可能是别的）？听完欧文那句话，你觉得那两件事背后，会不会是同一个根？

3) John说，福音不是「我终于把自己管好了，所以神接纳我」，而是我在基督里蒙神接纳，因为基督已经为罪人死了。对你来说，这句话具体能反驳你心里的哪一个谎言？

Lesson 1: Are Games, My Phone, and Binge-Watching Controlling Me?——Entertainment and Idols

(Friday evening. The lights in the university fellowship room are bright. A few bags of chips and a case of drinks are sitting on the table. Fellowship counselor John hasn’t arrived yet, and the people who got there early have already started chatting.)

1. Am I Being Controlled?

Peter: (puts his phone face down on the table and sighs) I was scrolling until 2 a.m. again last night. My CPSC 210 project was due Friday, and I hadn’t even written a single word.

Jenny: What were you scrolling until two?

Peter: Nothing really. Just Reels—swipe, next one; swipe, next one. At one point I watched three completely identical cat videos just because the algorithm thought I’d like them. At first I told myself, “I’ll finish this part, then I’ll reward myself with ten minutes of scrolling.” Two hours later, I hadn’t added a single word to my project, and I actually felt more tired, not more relaxed.

Tom: (shrugs) Isn’t that pretty normal? Don’t we all do that? Maybe you’re overthinking it.

Peter: I know everyone does it, but there’s this voice in my head that keeps saying, “This isn’t relaxing. You’re avoiding something.” I’m genuinely afraid I won’t finish the project, and I get so anxious that I’d rather not face it, so I start scrolling. But I can’t tell anymore whether I’m actually tired and need a break, or whether I’m just fooling myself and procrastinating.

John: (walks in, puts his things down, and joins the conversation) Honestly, I still have trouble telling the difference myself.

Tom: (half-joking) John, you lose control too?

John: (laughs) I’ve found one pretty simple way to look at it. Don’t just ask, “What am I doing?” Ask, “What happens after I do it?” Do I actually feel more able to get back to what I need to do, or do I want to avoid it even more? A lot of the time, what we call “relaxing” leaves us feeling emptier, more restless, and even less willing to face what we need to face. When that happens, it’s probably not really rest. It’s more like numbing yourself.

Tom: Isn’t that pretty subjective, though? I feel great after playing Valorant. Is that rest, or is that numbing myself?

John: It’s not necessarily about whether you feel good in the moment. You also have to look at what role it’s playing in your life, and whether afterward you’re actually more free to get back to what you need to do. After you finish that game, can you put it down, brush your teeth, and go to bed? Or do you feel kind of empty and want to queue up for one more game, or watch one more video?

Tom: (pauses) …The second one, most of the time. Especially if I lost and want to win one back. But that doesn’t prove gaming is the problem. Maybe I’m just stressed because I have so many deadlines this week.

John: That could be true. I’m not saying gaming itself is the problem. I’m saying that when something becomes something you “have to rely on just to get through,” its place in your life has changed.

Jenny: (quietly, a little embarrassed) I know exactly what you mean. I scroll Xiaohongshu and Instagram, telling myself I’m “just taking a quick look.” But every time I see someone with a perfectly decorated apartment or see where someone went on vacation, I actually feel more anxious. I start thinking, “I don’t have enough of this, I’m not good enough at that.” And yet I still can’t stop opening the apps. I probably check them dozens of times a day. Why does that happen?

Jack: (half-joking) That’s the vicious cycle of desire—the more anxious you get, the more you want to look, and the more you look, the more anxious you get.

Jenny: Exactly. That’s how it feels, but I can’t really explain why. I don’t have enough Chinese vocabulary to explain it… I understand the feeling, but I can’t really explain the reasoning behind it.

Peter: (turns to John) So how do we actually tell the difference between enjoying a hobby and being controlled by it? Are there any specific signs?

Tom: (jumps in, a little defensive) Let me give you my standard. If I can still live a normal life and hand in my assignments on time when I’m not gaming, then I’m not being controlled, right?

John: That’s one sign, but I think it comes pretty late. I think an earlier sign is how you react when you’re interrupted. Say you’re watching a show and your roommate asks you to help with something, or you suddenly remember that you were supposed to pray. In that moment, what happens inside you? Do you think, “Sure, no problem. Just give me a minute”? Or do you immediately feel annoyed, resistant, maybe even almost angry?

Jack: There’s another sign I’ve noticed in myself. Are you willing to let other people see how much time you spend on it? My phone has a Screen Time report. Every time I see that number, my first reaction is to swipe it away instead of showing it to someone else. Does that count as a sign?

John: (nods) That’s actually a really good sign. When we hide something, sometimes it’s worth asking, “Why don’t I want other people to know? Am I hiding sin, or am I just afraid of being misunderstood or controlled? What exactly am I protecting?”

Tom: (still a little resistant) But if you put it that way, almost anything that makes people happy could be described as “something that controls them.” So are we not allowed to enjoy anything anymore?

John: (seriously, without immediately pushing back) Tom, that’s a fair concern. If I’ve given you the impression that “you have to be careful because almost anything could become an idol,” then I haven’t explained it well. The line between enjoying something good and being controlled by it isn’t simply about how much you like it, and it isn’t simply about whether you can put it down. The deeper question is whether you’re starting to rely on it for things that only God can ultimately be for you—your satisfaction, security, identity, comfort, or hope. Games, videos, and social media can all be ways we enjoy God’s common grace. The problem comes when we put them in a place that belongs only to God, and they become the source we use to decide whether “I’m having a good day” or “I’m worth being liked.” They can’t carry that kind of weight, because they were never created to carry it.

Tom: (thinks for a moment; he doesn’t argue back right away, but he’s still not completely convinced) …I need to think about that. Honestly, I’m not even very comfortable looking at my own Screen Time numbers.

Peter: (remembering something) Speaking of “what’s right”… In my Philosophy 100 tutorial last week, the TA was talking about postmodernism and said that you can’t really trust any “grand narrative.” Every culture and every person has a different definition of what a “good life” looks like, and no one gets to say their version is the only correct one. At the time, it sounded pretty convincing. On my way home, I just applied the same idea to myself—when I say, “I’m being controlled by my phone,” maybe that’s just a “narrative” I’m putting on myself. Maybe spending two hours scrolling every day is completely normal for someone else. Who gets to say it’s wrong?

Jack: (laughs) Are you using your philosophy class as an excuse to keep scrolling?

Peter: (laughs awkwardly) Not completely… But I really do get stuck on this idea. If everything is only “true for me,” then is the difference between “avoiding something” and “taking a break” just a label I’m putting on myself? Is there actually any objective right or wrong?

John: That’s a really good question, and actually it goes one level deeper than Tom’s question. Tom was asking, “Which way of dealing with things is more effective?” You’re asking, “Is there some standard outside myself that tells me what is actually right?” Those are two different questions.

Jenny: (frowns) What’s the difference? Honestly, I can’t usually tell them apart.

John: Tom’s question is something psychology and sociology can study. Psychology can look at meditation, exercise, and prayer, and study how these practices affect people’s emotions, stress levels, and behaviour. But those empirical studies cannot ultimately answer questions like: Why are we here? What is truly good? Who should we ultimately worship?

Peter: So what’s your answer?

John: (honestly) I can’t prove it to you on the spot. This isn’t something three sentences are going to settle. But I want you to notice something. When you say, “Everything is just a different narrative, and no one’s version is more right than anyone else’s,” you still seem to be able to tell the difference between avoiding something and taking a break. You walked in tonight and immediately said, “I’m afraid this isn’t really rest. I think I’m avoiding something.” That statement already contains a judgment. You’re saying that avoidance is bad and rest is good. If everything really is just a personal narrative, with no objective right or wrong, then why are you bothered by the fact that you’re avoiding something?

Peter: (stares for a moment) …Because it feels wrong.

John: That feeling that “something is wrong,” if you follow it deeper, is really saying that you know there is some kind of “should.” There is a way you think life should be, and you know you’re not living that way right now. And that “should” doesn’t seem to be something you simply invented yourself. If you had invented it, you could rewrite it whenever you wanted and make yourself feel completely justified. But you can’t. You still feel guilty. You still feel uneasy. At the very least, that suggests your subjective feelings don’t fully explain what’s going on. Why do you have this sense that there is a “should”? Where does that “should” come from?

Tom: (interrupts) But what if that “should” was shaped by your family, your church, and your culture? I grew up going to church. What if my feeling of guilt is just something I was trained to feel from childhood? What if it isn’t some kind of objective reality?

John: That’s an honest challenge, and I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t matter. Honestly, when I was a first-year student taking Philosophy 101, I used to throw exactly that argument at my fellowship leader. It worked pretty well—I actually managed to leave him speechless for about thirty seconds. So, Tom, you’re definitely not the first person to think of that. All I can say is this: if even the feeling that “something is wrong” can be completely explained as something we were socially conditioned to feel, then what about the thought you’re having right now—the thought that challenges me and challenges what the church teaches? Couldn’t that thought also have been shaped by your philosophy class and by the culture you live in? If relativism says that every judgment is simply the product of cultural conditioning, then we still have to ask: what makes the judgment “everything is culturally conditioned” itself true? If you take relativism all the way to its logical conclusion, it ends up undermining itself. It’s kind of like a snake biting its own tail. The apologist Cornelius Van Til talked about this for years. His point was that no one actually lives from a completely “neutral” position. At the deepest level, we either acknowledge God as the foundation that makes our reasoning and our judgments possible, or we deny that foundation while still depending on it. Even when you say, “That’s just something I was conditioned to believe,” you’re still making a judgment from some standard of what should be objectively true. You can’t actually become completely neutral. I’m not saying this to win an argument or force you to agree with me. I’m saying that if you follow this road all the way to the end, it doesn’t actually make you more free. It simply moves the question of “What should I believe?” from the church to another narrative—the narrative of the culture around you.

Peter: (slowly) …So you’re not saying we shouldn’t question things. You’re saying that even questioning itself needs some kind of foundation. Otherwise, if I keep questioning everything, eventually I don’t even know where I’m standing anymore.

John: Exactly. I completely encourage you to question and keep asking hard questions. The gospel can handle those questions. I just don’t want you to use postmodernism as a tool for blocking out every truth that makes you uncomfortable—including God.

Discussion

The group has talked about procrastinating on assignments, scrolling short videos, comparing their lives with other people’s, and getting caught up in winning and losing games. They also talked about the idea that “everything is just a different narrative, and there is no objective right or wrong.” John mentioned two specific signs: after you do it, do you feel “more energized” or “more empty”? When you’re interrupted, can you “let it go,” or do you become so resistant that you’re almost angry? Jack added a third: are you willing to let other people see how much time you spend on it? Discuss:

1) Using these three signs—how you feel afterward, how you react when interrupted, and whether you’re willing to let other people see it—take an honest look at your recent habits with your phone, gaming, or binge-watching. Do you think you’re closer to “enjoying” these things, or closer to “escaping”? If you’re comfortable sharing, what makes you think that?

2) Peter talked about how the postmodern ideas he learned in philosophy class made him start questioning even his own feeling that “avoidance is wrong.” Have you ever encountered something in a university class that made you question your faith or your moral beliefs? How did you deal with that tension?

2. What Can Actually Satisfy Me?

Jack: (self-mocking) Speaking of “not wanting to look at the numbers,” let me tell you something even more embarrassing. The Canucks lost last weekend, and I was in a terrible mood the entire day. I barely responded when my roommate talked to me, and I didn’t even have much of an appetite at dinner. I actually thought to myself, “Seriously? It’s just a hockey game. I don’t even know these players.”

Tom: That’s normal. I dropped a rank in my game last week, and it completely ruined my night. I couldn’t even focus in class the next day.

Jack: But later, when I really thought about it, my reaction that day was almost as strong as when I completely bombed my calculus exam. And that’s what felt weird—how can one hockey game carry almost the same weight as an exam I spent months preparing for?

Jenny: (thoughtfully) Maybe it wasn’t the hockey game itself that was so important. Maybe in that moment, the game somehow represented, “Is everything going well for me today?”

John: That’s a really good observation. When one game can completely take over your mood, the problem usually isn’t how important the event itself is. It’s that something has quietly taken a position it was never meant to have—the position of deciding, “Is my day going well or not?”

Tom: (this time genuinely pushing back) But if we follow that logic, are we supposed to be constantly worried and examining ourselves every time we play a game or watch a show? “Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God”—does that mean I have to pray before I play a game? Isn’t that just another set of rules, like the way my mom used to control me? At the end of the day, who’s even going to feel comfortable relaxing?

Peter: Exactly. The way you’re putting it, it sounds like once you become a Christian, you’re not allowed to really enjoy anything anymore.

John: I understand what you’re worried about. If “living for God’s glory” turns into “doing a spiritual exercise before you play a game,” then yeah, that would be exhausting. And that’s not what the Bible means.

Tom: Then how should we understand it?

John: Let me ask you, Tom. Have you ever had a moment when you were doing something you really enjoyed, but you weren’t trying to escape from anything, and you didn’t feel like you had to use it to prove something about yourself? You were simply enjoying something God had given you, and afterward you were able to put it down and go back to what you needed to do?

Tom: …Yeah. Last weekend, a few of us played ranked for a few hours. After we won, we were laughing in Discord for a while, and then I shut down my computer and went to bed. The next day I got up and did what I needed to do.

John: Then at least in that situation, it sounds like you were enjoying it rather than being controlled by it. The issue isn’t “gaming.” The deeper question is: when you’re gaming, are you actually free, or are you using it to fill a “hole”? If it’s the first one, then enjoy it. Enjoying something is not automatically wrong. But if it’s the second one, the problem isn’t really the game. It’s the hole that needs to be filled by something else. That “hole” is what happens when people turn away from God and start looking to created things for satisfaction, comfort, identity, and security.

Jack: (thinking) So it’s not really a question of “Can I do this?” It’s a question of “What am I living on?”

Peter: Then if I realize I’m often using things to “fill a hole,” should I just uninstall the game and delete all my streaming apps?

John: (shakes his head) If you only delete the apps, you might make it a week. Because if the real problem in your heart hasn’t been dealt with, sometimes you’ll just find something else to do the same job. It might be another app, or it might be something completely different.

Jack: (nods) That’s exactly what happened to my roommate. Last semester he realized he was scrolling Instagram so much that it was affecting his sleep. He deleted all the apps right away, even bought an Opal device to lock his phone, and went really hard for two whole weeks. We all thought he was doing great. Then in the third week, he reinstalled everything and was scrolling even more than before. And he picked up another habit—he started online shopping like crazy. He said he was “rewarding himself for making it through two weeks.”

Peter: (laughs) That’s brutal.

Jack: He was pretty frustrated with himself too. He said it felt like he had “quit” his phone, but he hadn’t actually solved anything. He had just found something else to escape into.

Jenny: Not every method is useless, though, right? My roommate Amy was also spending so much time on her phone that she was almost failing her classes. At the beginning of the semester, she started doing accountability with an older girl from her Bible study. Every week, she reports her Screen Time, and the older girl doesn’t judge her. She just asks questions and prays with her. Amy really has been doing much better this semester. Her Screen Time has dropped from six or seven hours a day to two or three, and she has a lot more energy too.

Tom: Doesn’t that prove the method works?

Jenny: (hesitates) It works, but… she’s not completely better. During midterm week, she was still scrolling all night. When she reported to the older girl, she said she actually wanted to leave some of the time out, or just skip reporting that week, because she was afraid the older girl would be disappointed in her. She said it felt like she had switched from being controlled by her “phone” to being controlled by “the fear of disappointing someone.” The pressure was a little different, but that feeling of “I need something outside myself to keep me from falling apart” was still there. It had just changed shape.

John: (nods) And that’s exactly what I want to talk about next. Amy getting an accountability partner was a good step. It wasn’t pointless, and God really can use relationships like that to help us. But if she stops there, she may start treating the question, “Will my older sister be disappointed in me?” as something she has to rely on in order to hold herself together. The deeper issue—“I have to rely on something outside myself to get through this”—hasn’t really been dealt with. It has just been given a more respectable, more “spiritual-looking” outer shell.

Jack: So does that mean those methods—deleting apps, having someone keep you accountable, locking your phone—are actually useful or not?

John: They are useful, but we have to put them in the right place. They’re like “pulling out the piece of wood that’s right next to the fire.” They can give you some breathing room and reduce the chance that you’ll immediately fall again. That’s good. That’s wise. I absolutely encourage you to use those tools. But they don’t solve the deeper question: “Why do I reach for something whenever I feel empty?” That’s what I want to talk about next. You can’t just deal with the problem in one particular area while leaving the deeper thing in your heart untouched.

Tom: (picking at the argument, with a tone he picked up from class) But isn’t that a little too absolute? Our Sociology professor literally said last week that everyone deals with stress differently. Some people rely on prayer, some meditate, some exercise. These are all just different coping mechanisms. None is necessarily more “true” than another; it just works for some people and not for others. What makes you think the Christian approach is more correct?

John: (doesn’t immediately argue back) I believed something similar when I was in university too. And I completely agree that different coping strategies really can work for different people. Meditation and exercise really can make a lot of people feel better. That’s not fake. What I’m asking isn’t “Which one is more effective?” It’s “What does effective actually mean?” Does it mean making you feel better in the moment, or does it mean actually dealing with the hole that keeps making you reach for something to fill it? When I talk about “filling the hole,” I’m not simply asking whether something helps. I’m asking whether the hole will actually be filled, whether you’ll actually become less dependent on constantly reaching for something. Those are two different questions. Psychology can study the first one, but the second is not something psychology itself can answer.

Jenny: (thinking) My cousin started seeing a counsellor last year. She said it really helped with her anxiety, and she sleeps much better now. Doesn’t that count?

John: Of course it counts. We can’t say that because psychology isn’t the Bible, everything psychology observes must be false. If her anxiety has gone down and she’s sleeping better, those are real things. The question is—have you ever thought about the fact that “psychology” isn’t actually one single system? There are many different theories within psychology, and they can give very different answers to questions like, “Why do these holes appear in people’s hearts?” and “How should those holes be filled?”

Tom: Like what?

John: Take Freud, for example. He put a lot of emphasis on the unconscious, childhood experiences, and inner conflicts. But Jung and Adler developed their own theories. Later there was behaviourism, with people like Watson and Skinner. Then came Rogers and humanistic psychology, as well as Beck’s cognitive therapy. Today, if you go to a counsellor, you might encounter CBT, psychodynamic therapy, family therapy, attachment theory, or a combination of several approaches.

Jenny: So which one does a counsellor actually believe?

John: That’s where it gets interesting. Some people mainly follow one approach, while others combine several. For example, suppose the same person says, “I feel completely useless.” A CBT therapist might first ask, “Are you taking one failure and turning it into ‘There’s something wrong with me as a person’?” A psychodynamic therapist might ask, “Why do you so easily feel like you’re not good enough? Have you felt this way before?” A humanistic therapist might focus more on, “How do you really see yourself? Are you always living according to the person other people want you to be?”

Tom: Then that gets pretty complicated, doesn’t it? Same person, three counsellors, three different explanations. What are we supposed to do?

John: Exactly. And that’s where we as Christians need to learn discernment. A theory may have observed part of the truth, but that doesn’t mean its answers to “Who are human beings really? What is our deepest problem? What does real change look like?” are the final answers. We can listen carefully, and we can learn from useful observations and methods, but we shouldn’t automatically accept an entire view of humanity, value system, and solution to our problems.

Tom: So what you’re really saying is that psychology can help us understand some things about human beings, but it isn’t the final “user manual for humanity”?

John: (laughs) Yeah, that’s basically what I mean. A counsellor might help us discover that we’re afraid of rejection, but their explanation isn’t necessarily neutral. If they tell you, “The reason you’re afraid of rejection today is that your parents didn’t give you enough affirmation when you were a child,” then as Christians we need to stop and ask: Is that a tentative explanation of cause and effect, or is it as certain as a cause-and-effect relationship in physics? Does that answer fit with Scripture? We can learn a lot from them, but ultimately we can’t hand over the final explanation of humanity to one particular counsellor. They may help us see certain things, but no human being’s words are equal to Scripture.

Tom: (nods) …Okay, I can accept that. Not “psychology is completely wrong,” and not “everything psychology says is right.” But I still feel like I can’t always tell whether my heart is free or whether I’m filling a hole. A lot of the time, I can’t even tell myself.

John: Honestly, I often can’t tell either. This isn’t something you figure out once and then you’re done. It’s something we have to keep asking ourselves honestly.

Jenny: (changes the subject, a little hesitant) Can I ask something a little different? I’ve been spending more and more money lately. Everything in Vancouver is so expensive. This semester, my rent and insurance alone are almost $1,200. But the more anxious I feel, the more I want to buy clothes or skincare online just to make myself feel better. I’m happy after I buy something, but before long I get even more anxious, and then I want to buy something else. Last month, almost $400 of my credit card bill was online shopping. I don’t even dare tell my parents.

Peter: Isn’t that basically the same thing as the phone? Anxiety → do something → feel better for a moment → become more anxious.

Jack: And you don’t want people to see that credit card bill, just like I don’t want people to see my Screen Time.

John: (nods) You guys are already seeing the pattern. This is the pattern of worship. Whether it’s your phone, a hockey game, or shopping, once the human heart becomes anxious or empty, it instinctively reaches for something to fill that emptiness. For a moment, grabbing that thing feels good, but that thing can’t actually hold you up. Before long, you’re empty again, so you reach for it again, and the more you do it, the more you don’t want anyone to know. An idol isn’t necessarily something you openly say, “This is what I love most.” An idol is often something you actually use to get satisfaction, identity, security, and hope. So your phone, hockey, and shopping aren’t idols in themselves, but any of them can become an idol.

Jack: So should we deal with these things one at a time? First deal with the phone, then shopping, then something else?

John: That sounds natural, but I’ll be honest—I don’t really think it works that way. And it’s not just my personal experience. There was a pastor named John Owen in the seventeenth century who wrote a book specifically about “putting sin to death.” There’s something he said that has always stayed with me. Basically, a person can’t put one particular sin to death while leaving the other sins untouched. If you’re not genuinely pursuing holiness before God as a whole, then even if it looks like you’ve “quit” one particular thing, that sin may not actually have been put to death. It may simply have been pushed down for a while, or it may show up somewhere else.

Peter: (thinking of Jack’s roommate) Like Jack’s roommate—he quit his phone, and online shopping showed up instead.

John: Exactly. Owen wasn’t saying, “Don’t bother trying to quit using your phone, because it won’t work.” He actually emphasized that we need to seriously and specifically deal with each particular sin. We can’t just say, “I want to become more holy,” and leave it at that. His point is that when you’re dealing with the phone, if what you really care about is simply “I need to get this one thing under control,” rather than allowing yourself to be challenged by the deeper questions—“Do I really believe God cares for me? Do I really need something else to prove that I’m good enough?”—then even if you manage to control your phone use for a while, the deeper problem hasn’t actually been dealt with. It may simply show up somewhere else. Online shopping, obsessively chasing good grades to prove yourself, or even staying constantly busy with ministry and looking “spiritual” can all be different branches growing from the same root.

Tom: (becomes serious, no longer arguing just for the sake of arguing) So does that mean there’s never really a day when you can say, “I’ve beaten this”?

John: (honestly) Some specific habits can certainly be broken, and some sins can clearly lose their power in our lives. But we shouldn’t expect to completely pull sin up by the roots in this life. We’re going to keep dealing with it. I don’t want to give you a false promise that after becoming a Christian, you’ll never struggle with these things again. But Owen isn’t saying there’s no hope. He’s saying that putting sin to death isn’t a matter of finding a technique for “getting one thing under control.” It means continually letting the gospel reach that deeper place: “Do I really believe that God has fully accepted me in Christ? I don’t need to rely on my phone, hockey, shopping, or grades to prove anything about myself.” This isn’t something we do once and finish. We have to keep being reminded of it and keep coming back to it.

Jenny: So even if I get my shopping under control, if that deeper problem—“I’m not good enough, so I need something to prove myself”—hasn’t been dealt with, it could still show up somewhere else?

John: Very possibly. I’m not saying that to scare you. I want you to understand that if one day you realize you’ve “quit” one thing but become even more out of control somewhere else, don’t be surprised, and don’t immediately conclude, “I haven’t grown at all.” It may actually mean that you’re beginning to see the deeper root. At that point, what you need isn’t another self-management method. You need to come back to the gospel: God accepts me, not because I’ve finally learned how to manage myself.

Tom: (silent for a moment, not arguing, just thinking) …I don’t know whether I believe that, but I’ll admit something. I really have never gotten that feeling of “Okay, that’s enough” from gaming.

John: (doesn’t press him, letting the statement sit there) That’s enough for today. You don’t have to believe it right away. Just take that question home with you and think about it.

Peter: (after a moment of silence, still can’t help asking) But… knowing all this, what am I actually supposed to do the next time I want to scroll my phone to escape? I can’t just rely on “remembering that God loves me.” At that moment, my brain barely works.

John: Honestly, there’s no magic trick that always works. If I gave you a list of techniques, that could just turn into another set of rules—another thing you feel you have to do perfectly. But there are a few simple things I try to do myself, and maybe they’ll help you. First, when that urge to escape comes, don’t immediately start scrolling. Just honestly say to God, “I’m really tired right now. I’m scared, and I want to use this to escape.”

Jenny: I’ve tried that. Before my midterms last time, I really did say that. And what happened? I still picked up my phone and scrolled for more than an hour. So what difference did saying it make? It didn’t seem to help.

John: (doesn’t immediately argue back) That’s a very honest response. Let me clarify. Saying that isn’t a switch that will immediately make you put your phone down. Its purpose isn’t to “stop you from scrolling.” It’s to help you know what you’re doing while you’re scrolling, instead of mindlessly swiping and pretending nothing is happening. From the outside, those two things may look almost the same, but one is continuing to deceive yourself, while the other is being awake to the fact that you’re struggling. And then ask yourself one more question: “If I didn’t need my phone to escape right now, what should I do today to obey God?” Sometimes the answer is very ordinary—turn off the phone, open your project, and work on it for ten minutes.

Tom: (picking at the argument) Then how is that different from giving yourself a pep talk? When I’m feeling bad, I also tell myself, “It’s okay. Just calm down.” Does that count as prayer too? Is God actually listening, or am I just talking to myself so I can feel a little better?

John: (honestly) If you’re asking whether I can prove in a laboratory that God is listening, of course I can’t prove it that way. Our confidence doesn’t come from whether we feel better after praying. It comes from God’s own promises. We believe He hears our prayers, not because we’ve experimentally verified Him, but because He has revealed Himself in His Word and, through Christ, has made it possible for us to come before Him with confidence.

Tom: (frowns) I just feel weird about having to tell people every time, “I escaped into my phone again,” or “I couldn’t control myself again.” It starts to feel like I’m doing homework in the fellowship and reporting my progress. It even feels a little like I’m trying to get people to feel sorry for me. And what if what I share turns into gossip?

Jack: (a little uncomfortable because he can relate) Honestly, when I told you guys about my Screen Time today, my heart was beating a little faster. But it actually wasn’t that scary. Nobody laughed at me.

John: The risk Tom mentioned is real. If a fellowship turns into a place where everyone reports their progress or spreads gossip, then there’s something wrong with the fellowship itself; it doesn’t mean sharing your struggles is wrong. When I say, “Don’t carry this alone,” I don’t mean you have to tell everyone about your struggles. At the very least, let one or two people you trust know. You get to choose who they are. Choose someone who won’t use your weakness as something to gossip about.

John: Third, spend time regularly reminding yourself what the gospel actually says: God accepts us, not because we have already become perfect. Quite the opposite. Because we have already been accepted in Christ, we are free to honestly face our sin and fight against it. Christ has already given His life for us, so I don’t need to rely on my phone, my grades, hockey, shopping, or other people’s approval to prove that I have value.

Tom: (sighs) I’ve heard that more than a hundred times. I’ve heard it my whole life: “God loves you,” “God accepts you first.” After hearing it so many times, how is that any different from some inspirational quote? My mom says those things too, but she still disciplines me when she needs to.

John: If you just treat that sentence as a slogan you can play over and over again, then yes, it can become empty encouragement. I agree. It becomes genuinely useful when you take that truth and use it to confront a specific lie you’re believing. For example, “I didn’t do well on this exam, so I’m worthless,” or “I avoided everything again this week, so I’m probably not even a real Christian.” This truth isn’t meant to make you feel good. It’s meant to directly challenge the lie you’re believing. If it isn’t connected to a specific lie, then yes, it can become empty words.

Peter: (honestly) Then I’ll be honest. I think I’m probably still going to scroll my phone next time.

John: (laughs, without denying it) I think you probably will too. These aren’t guarantees. I can’t tell you, “Do these three things and you’ll never escape into your phone again.” That would be lying to you. All I can say is that these are things I’ve been trying to do myself, and I still don’t do them well. I’ve been doing this for ten years, and I still mess it up all the time.

Tom: Then if you’ve been doing it for ten years and you still don’t do it well, what’s the point?

John: (pauses, then answers seriously) The point isn’t to “finally get it right.” It’s that every time I do this, even if I don’t feel anything right away, the thing I feel like I “have to rely on just to get through” begins to loosen its grip, little by little. It doesn’t happen immediately. It happens slowly. I can’t prove that to you. All I can tell you is that after ten years, that’s what I can honestly say from my own experience.

Discussion

These friends have talked about how winning and losing a hockey game can control your mood for an entire day, whether “living for God’s glory” can become another set of rules, how buying things can make you more anxious the more you buy, and how you become more afraid of letting other people know. They also heard two stories about roommates—one who deleted an app but replaced it with online shopping, and another who found an accountability partner but simply had the pressure change shape. John quoted John Owen as saying that if we do not put all sin to death, we cannot truly put any one sin to death, because many behaviours that look different may actually be different branches growing from the same root. Discuss:

1) Think about the most recent time when something “small”—a hockey game, one gaming session, or an online purchase—completely controlled your mood for the rest of the day. Did that small thing quietly take the position of “deciding whether my day is good or bad”?

2) Have you ever “quit” one thing, only to become more out of control in another area? It doesn’t have to involve your phone; it could be something else. After hearing Owen’s point, do you think those two things might have the same root?

3) John said that the gospel is not, “I finally got myself under control, so God accepts me.” Instead, God accepts me in Christ because Christ has already died for sinners. What specific lie in your heart does this truth speak against?