A Great Christopher Hitchens Moment

If I were to ask you what is more evil (or dangerous) between an atheist and a "liberal christian" how would you answer? I know how I would answer - I would rather deal with a wolf that dresses like a wolf!

I recently posted an obituary to express my reflections and sadness over the recent death of fervent atheist Christopher Hitchens. I thought it worthwhile today to add one closing postscript on the life of Hitchens. There is some sort of delicious irony when an atheist schools a professing Christian on Christian doctrine. I have featured posts on this before, most particularly when Penn Jillette (a very publicly recognized and vocal atheist) rebuked professing Christians who don't evangelize and/or warn about hell. There was also the stunning moment when Kirk Cameron schooled Stephen Hawking on the scientific method!

Today, I will share a great Christopher Hitchens moment when he does a better job of exposing "liberal theologians" for the frauds they are than many others who fill pulpits that are silent on the issue. I was unable to find the video of this so we will have to settle for the transcript of this beautiful exchange between Christopher Hitchens and a liberal priest.

Liberal Priest: The religion you cite in your book is a generally fundamentalist faith of various kinds. I’m a liberal Christian, and I don’t take the stories from the scripture literally. I don’t believe in the doctrine of atonement (that Jesus died for our sins, for example). Do you make any distinction between fundamentalist faith and liberal religion?

Hitchens: I would say that if you don’t believe that Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ and Messiah, and that he rose again from the dead and by his sacrifice our sins are forgiven, you’re really not in any meaningful sense a Christian.

Sewell: Let me go someplace else. When I was in seminary, I was particularly drawn to the work of theologian Paul Tillich. He shocked people by describing the traditional God—as you might, as a matter of fact—as “an invincible tyrant.” For Tillich, God is “the ground of being.” It’s his response to, say, Freud’s belief that religion is mere wish fulfillment and comes from humans’ fear of death. What do you think of Tillich’s concept of God?

Hitchens: I would classify that under the heading of Statements That Have No Meaning—At All. Christianity, remember, was really founded by Saint Paul, not by Jesus. Paul says, very clearly, that if it is not true that Jesus Christ rose from the dead, then we the Christians are of all people the most unhappy. If none of that’s true, and you seem to say it isn’t, I have no quarrel with you. You’re not going to come to my door trying to convince me. Nor are you trying to get a tax break from the government. Nor are you trying to have it taught to my children in school. If all Christians were like you, I wouldn’t have to write the book.

I'll take a Hitchens any day over a cowardly and passive "minister". He will be missed and I sincerely hope that Hitchens repented of his wicked rebellion and trusted in Jesus Christ before his heart stopped beating.

Christopher Hitchens Now Knows That God Is Great

My friend, Joshua Williamson, recently alerted me to the sad news that the famous staunch atheist Christopher Hitchens has died from cancer. What Josh said is worth repeating and a good reflection of the Christian worldview:

Sad news. Leading atheist Christopher Hitchens has died aged 62. He was the author of the book, "God is not great". Mr. Hitchen's now knows that God is indeed great. I hope that Christopher placed his trust in Christ before he died.

It is true that Christopher now knows that God is great beyond his comprehension. Christians led the way during Hitchens' battle with cancer praying for him and writing to him in pleading calls for repentance. Christopher was clearly taken aback by the compassion of Christians who had been the subject of his vitriolic scorn for many years. Hitchens wrote in Vanity Fair in September 2010:

These are my first raw reactions to being stricken. I am quietly resolved to resist bodily as best I can, even if only passively, and to seek the most advanced advice. My heart and blood pressure and many other registers are now strong again: indeed, it occurs to me that if I didn’t have such a stout constitution I might have led a much healthier life thus far. Against me is the blind, emotionless alien, cheered on by some who have long wished me ill. But on the side of my continued life is a group of brilliant and selfless physicians plus an astonishing number of prayer groups. On both of these I hope to write next time if — as my father invariably said — I am spared.

Ultimately none of us are spared from the ultimate statistic - that one out of one people die. I cannot take any moral high ground over Hitchens for all his years of fist shaking at God. I was no better - God's grace to me was unmerited favor so why should I pontificate? Like Josh, in the wake of Hitchens' death we can do nothing else but fly the flag of hope that God can save the worst of sinners at the latest of moments. Death bed conversions should not be treated as normative, nor should we plan on seeking God later in life after we have sown our wild oats. Romans 1 serves as a stern warning against those who persist in sin to the point of God "giving them over" to hearts so hardened that they, like Esau, cannot find repentance.

Spurgeon once preached to his congregation on why he believed the Bible contains only one death bed conversion - that being the thief on the cross. Spurgeon suggested that God only included one of these stories in the Bible to remind the complacent that it is very rare, and remind the hopeless that we are never without hope.

I do hope to see Christopher in heaven. God derives great glory from saving the worst of sinners. How do I know this? Because He saved me!

Angry Atheist Christopher Hitchens And His Mortality Memo (Part 2)

In Friday's post we listened to Todd Friel interview angry atheist Christopher Hitchens. Hitchens exhibited enormous liberty in his desire to blaspheme and mock the God he doesn't believe in. But since that interview, Hitchens received something my old Bible college lecturer called a "mortality memo" in the form of a cancer diagnosis. Based on Hitchens' recent article in Vanity Fair magazine it would seem that his tone has lost much of the earlier hostility . . .

(Excerpt from Vanity Fair September 2010) The notorious stage theory of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, whereby one progresses from denial to rage through bargaining to depression and the eventual bliss of “acceptance,” hasn’t so far had much application in my case. In one way, I suppose, I have been “in denial” for some time, knowingly burning the candle at both ends and finding that it often gives a lovely light. But for precisely that reason, I can’t see myself smiting my brow with shock or hear myself whining about how it’s all so unfair: I have been taunting the Reaper into taking a free scythe in my direction and have now succumbed to something so predictable and banal that it bores even me. Rage would be beside the point for the same reason. Instead, I am badly oppressed by a gnawing sense of waste. I had real plans for my next decade and felt I’d worked hard enough to earn it. Will I really not live to see my children married? To watch the World Trade Center rise again? To read—if not indeed write—the obituaries of elderly villains like Henry Kissinger and Joseph Ratzinger? But I understand this sort of non-thinking for what it is: sentimentality and self-pity. Of course my book hit the best-seller list on the day that I received the grimmest of news bulletins, and for that matter the last flight I took as a healthy-feeling person (to a fine, big audience at the Chicago Book Fair) was the one that made me a million-miler on United Airlines, with a lifetime of free upgrades to look forward to. But irony is my business and I just can’t see any ironies here: would it be less poignant to get cancer on the day that my memoirs were remaindered as a box-office turkey, or that I was bounced from a coach-class flight and left on the tarmac? To the dumb question “Why me?” the cosmos barely bothers to return the reply: Why not?

The bargaining stage, though. Maybe there’s a loophole here. The oncology bargain is that, in return for at least the chance of a few more useful years, you agree to submit to chemotherapy and then, if you are lucky with that, to radiation or even surgery. So here’s the wager: you stick around for a bit, but in return we are going to need some things from you. These things may include your taste buds, your ability to concentrate, your ability to digest, and the hair on your head. This certainly appears to be a reasonable trade. Unfortunately, it also involves confronting one of the most appealing clichés in our language. You’ve heard it all right. People don’t have cancer: they are reported to be battling cancer. No well-wisher omits the combative image: You can beat this. It’s even in obituaries for cancer losers, as if one might reasonably say of someone that they died after a long and brave struggle with mortality. You don’t hear it about long-term sufferers from heart disease or kidney failure.

Myself, I love the imagery of struggle. I sometimes wish I were suffering in a good cause, or risking my life for the good of others, instead of just being a gravely endangered patient. Allow me to inform you, though, that when you sit in a room with a set of other finalists, and kindly people bring a huge transparent bag of poison and plug it into your arm, and you either read or don’t read a book while the venom sack gradually empties itself into your system, the image of the ardent soldier or revolutionary is the very last one that will occur to you. You feel swamped with passivity and impotence: dissolving in powerlessness like a sugar lump in water.

It’s quite something, this chemo-poison. It has caused me to lose about 14 pounds, though without making me feel any lighter. It has cleared up a vicious rash on my shins that no doctor could ever name, let alone cure. (Some venom, to get rid of those furious red dots without a struggle.) Let it please be this mean and ruthless with the alien and its spreading dead-zone colonies. But as against that, the death-dealing stuff and life-preserving stuff have also made me strangely neuter. I was fairly reconciled to the loss of my hair, which began to come out in the shower in the first two weeks of treatment, and which I saved in a plastic bag so that it could help fill a floating dam in the Gulf of Mexico. But I wasn’t quite prepared for the way that my razorblade would suddenly go slipping pointlessly down my face, meeting no stubble. Or for the way that my newly smooth upper lip would begin to look as if it had undergone electrolysis, causing me to look a bit too much like somebody’s maiden auntie. (The chest hair that was once the toast of two continents hasn’t yet wilted, but so much of it was shaved off for various hospital incisions that it’s a rather patchy affair.) I feel upsettingly de-natured. If Penélope Cruz were one of my nurses, I wouldn’t even notice. In the war against Thanatos, if we must term it a war, the immediate loss of Eros is a huge initial sacrifice.

These are my first raw reactions to being stricken. I am quietly resolved to resist bodily as best I can, even if only passively, and to seek the most advanced advice. My heart and blood pressure and many other registers are now strong again: indeed, it occurs to me that if I didn’t have such a stout constitution I might have led a much healthier life thus far. Against me is the blind, emotionless alien, cheered on by some who have long wished me ill. But on the side of my continued life is a group of brilliant and selfless physicians plus an astonishing number of prayer groups. On both of these I hope to write next time if — as my father invariably said — I am spared - Christopher Hitchens

What a great testimony to the grace of God that the subjects of Hitchens' years of scorn are the ones upholding his name in prayer to the Great Physician!

Hitchens hates God . . . but so did I!

Hitchens deserves God's wrath . . . but so did I!

God delights in gaining glory by saving the worst of sinners - I know this is true because he saved me. Please Christopher, God is rich in mercy, humble yourself before the One Who has numbered your days.

Angry Atheist Christopher Hitchens And His Mortality Memo (Part 1)

I can remember attending a Bible college in the late 90's that, in hindsight, was rather lacking in biblical teaching. There was, however, one elderly lecturer who was a product of far more puritanical times. He was a true Christian statesman and someone who taught me many things that I'll never forget. One thing he always reminded the young men was to always be mindful of the mortality memos that God sends. What he meant by this was that life always, eventually, dishes up circumstances and experiences that remind us of our terminal condition as sons of Adam and the fate that awaits us. These experiences can serve as precious sobering fuel in our eternal perspective tanks. I find nothing more frightening than listening to delusional people who gleefully defy God's law and mockingly shake their fist at Him. Christopher Hitchens is one such man from the ever increasing, ever brazen, band of angry atheists. Like all atheists the real issue is never a lack of evidence for God's existence, it is always that they love sin and hate God. When Hitchens was interviewed by Todd Friel I think you can hear this truth come to the surface:



Not long after that interview Christopher Hitchens received a very loud "mortality memo" - he was diagnosed with cancer. His tone has changed and I am left wondering if God has caught Hitchens' attention. On Monday you will get to read Hitchens - post cancer diagnosis - and hear this change in tone. It makes for interesting reading . . .