Pastor Prints Face on Panties: A Rebuke in Three Parts

Show open and a correction

The produced intro voiceover opens the show from the Pathway Studios in Johnston. A host corrects himself: on last week's show he said they were done until the New Year, but he had been telling himself that all week -- the show is edifying to him, so here they are.

Church renewal proposals recap and tonight's lineup

• Is there a danger in publicly praying for the resurrection of a dead child?

The hosts return to their '15 proposals for church renewal' series and recap the last two they covered: doing liturgy and keeping the cross in the sanctuary. One host recounts attending a funeral at a church with no cross, and another describes a snarky online exchange about their own Christmas Eve ad photo. They preview the night: a Christian Post article on God's resolutions for 2020 and a California church publicly praying for the resurrection of a two-year-old -- a story they tease but never return to.

The 'cussing pastor' and the underwear

• What should Christians do about abusive or false pastors?

A host reads a jubaie.net article about Tennessee pastor Thaddeus Matthews -- known as the 'cussing pastor' -- who designed women's underwear printed with his own face for his congregation. The hosts react with disgust and pivot to the harder question: as the body of Christ, is it their job to weed out men like this, or do they just let him operate?

The bus tour: protest, prayer, or nothing

One host proposes that fifty pastors fly to Tennessee, surround the church, and pray -- swapping protest for prayer. The others push back: it would look like Westboro Baptist to outsiders, entrench the man, and accomplish nothing, since he would frame it as persecution. They land on a narrower conviction: churches never protest other churches, and Paul confronting Peter is the biblical model, not a pressure campaign.

Willful perversion versus honest disagreement

• Does Philippians 1 ('at least Christ is preached') excuse not confronting false teachers?

The hosts draw a line between willful, self-aggrandizing behavior and sincere doctrinal disagreement -- smart Jesus-loving people who baptize babies are a different category from a man putting his face on underwear. They wrestle with Paul's line in Philippians that 'at least Christ is being preached,' questioning whether it covers men who are just monetizing the gospel.

What is God actually asking of me?

The discussion turns personal: in what way is each believer supposed to engage, and the rub is that figuring out your own assignment is the focus of a mature prayer life. A host notes you could argue every American Christian should move to Africa to feed the poor -- the real question is what your unique, local obedience looks like.

Philippians 1:15-18, read aloud

A host reads Philippians 1:15-18 -- some preach Christ from envy and rivalry, others from goodwill: 'but what does it matter? ... Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.' The hosts debate the context: Paul seems to mean people trying to antagonize him personally, which feels narrower than a blanket excuse for anyone monetizing the gospel.

What gets us off the chair?

The hosts ask what would actually move them to act -- child abuse didn't, the underwear pastor doesn't -- and recall Paul publicly rebuking Peter as the model of confrontation. One host argues God never mentions efficiency as part of his character, so 'it won't work' is a bad reason not to stop. He confesses two failures: walking past a crying woman in the Des Moines skywalk and driving past a three-car accident without checking whether anyone called for help.

Stopping on the road; 'send a prophet'

The hosts work out when to stop: if no Jesus-follower is present, a Christian should be there regardless of the situation. They agree distant crusades are misguided -- confront the churches you actually know -- but land on a prayer: 'Lord, send a prophet, and make it as clear as a sandwich on a plate if that's supposed to be me.'

Discernment in a time of nuance

A host argues the great commission never tasked Christians with policing the body -- but believers still owe themselves discernment: just because someone is called pastor doesn't make them legitimate, and it's fine to leave. He insists Christians live in a murky, muddy bog where nothing is simple except the love and justice of Christ, and they must be willing to hold nuance.

Christianity is local

Extending the nuance point: some homeless people want to be homeless and shouldn't be funded; others are trapped by fines they can't pay after prison -- and they look identical, which is why broad-brush government programs can't do it well. Christianity is a local deal: shaking hands, sharing dinner, praying face to face. Trying to police a man states away introduces risks that don't exist locally.

Driscoll, Chan, and 'are you even asking?'

The hosts note the bus tour would also have to stop at Mark Driscoll's restarted ministry and every other disqualified pastor. One host cites Francis Chan's 'Letters to the Church' on reforming American church life, then confesses he spends no prayer time on the renewal of Christ's whole body -- and wonders whether God is silent because he's not even asking.

Talk to the guy across the street

The hosts agree on the local principle: if you expect someone in Tennessee to confront the underwear pastor, you should talk to the pastor across the street -- even the Episcopal one you disagree with. They reach for the Nathan-and-David pattern: confront, and if he repents like David did, you're good. John the Baptist didn't wait for a direct personal call before speaking to Herod; fear of people and conflict is what keeps Christians quiet.

The creep-factor test and who is qualified

The hosts distinguish the underwear pastor from sincere doctrinal disagreement -- one is willful self-aggrandizement, the other a different reading of Scripture. They propose a test: ask the creepy-feeling pastor to pray with you about it; if he refuses, you've settled it. And they note the paradox that the people most eager to confront are always the wrong people -- the tug of reluctance may be the very qualification.

Fear of Yahweh, and the verdict

The hosts conclude the root issue is misplaced fear: fearing people's reactions more than God. They decide against the Tennessee trip -- the man thrives on attention, and the story is news precisely because everyone already knows it's wrong. The real assignment is reasonable-but-wrong beliefs among sincere Christians, handled in honest local conversation, not crusades against obvious doofuses. A host recounts a recent frank talk with a denominational leader who admitted he couldn't defend one of his own tradition's positions.

New Year's traditions and resolution statistics

Reading from Christianity Today, a host runs through New Year's traditions worldwide -- bear costumes in Romania, fireballs in Scotland, thrown furniture in Italy, red underwear in Turkey and Latin America. Then the stats: 45% of Americans make resolutions, 8% succeed, 24% never succeed -- yet people who explicitly set goals are ten times more likely to reach them.

Things I could do without

Reviving the recurring segment, a host rails against people who dodge a focused point by zooming out -- 'we should be kind to the needy all the time' in response to a Christmas giving push -- calling it arrogance disguised as wisdom. The conversation detours through parenting ('dad clean'), a high-school invention called the 'neat sheet,' and Matt Whitmer's self-winding spaghetti fork.

Family Feud: top New Year's resolutions

The hosts play Family Feud with a 2016 Money Magazine survey of the most popular resolutions. The board: enjoy life to the fullest (number one), live a healthier lifestyle, lose weight, save more and spend less, spend more time with family and friends, and pay down debt. Smoking doesn't make the list, to one host's annoyance.

'God's resolutions for you in 2020'

• What are God's resolutions for us in the new year?

The hosts turn to the Christian Post article, which claims God's two resolutions for believers are Jesus' two great commandments: love God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. They note the article's setup -- 248 positive and 365 negative commandments totaling 613 -- and agree with the core while bracing for the author's bloviation.

Loving your neighbor without wrecking yourself

• How do I love my neighbor as myself without wrecking myself?

A host struggles with the practical edge of 'love your neighbor as yourself': taken flatly, you'd give away your capacity to help anyone. The Good Samaritan didn't take the man home -- he paid for a hotel, which was generous without being self-destructive. They conclude the push-and-pull of these decisions isn't failure; it's the sign you're actually relying on God.

Discerning God's guidance in decisions

• How do I know whether God is guiding a decision or it's just my own instinct?

Through a spare-car example, the Acts 15 letter to Gentile believers, Jesus' temptation, and Abraham's child through his concubine, the hosts work out a rule: a faithful believer with an open heart can generally act confidently, but when God has made clear he will provide, grabbing it yourself is wrong. God's instincts increasingly become your instincts as you walk with him.

The article's four steps, part one

The hosts grade the article's four steps. Step one -- 'resolve to put God first' and 'ask before every word or action' -- is dismissed as a nothing-burger powered by your own steam; the show would be ten hours long. Step two -- begin the day in God's Word -- gets full agreement, with a digression on study Bibles (one host hasn't touched his study notes in three years) and the value of pen-and-paper note-taking over highlighted ebooks.

'Walk through the day in his presence'

Step three prompts the meatiest discussion: new believers have no idea what 'walk in God's presence' means, and veterans forget how to explain it. A host who taught through Malachi on a sudden impulse and another whose car radio inexplicably switched to static discuss discerning God's nudges. They land on fighting noise rather than emptying the mind -- focused time refusing distraction, like a 24/7 prayer room -- and note God has historically been specific with his people.

End the day with him

Step four -- review the day, thank God, confess sins including the ones you missed -- gets a quick amen. The hosts agree these are good patterns for life, not really 'resolutions,' and that their own resolutions are already built on them.

Dear LFTP: the widower and the late boyfriend

• My new girlfriend keeps talking about her deceased former boyfriend -- what should I do?

A widower writes that he's happily dating a widow, but she constantly mentions a deceased man she dated between her husband's death and meeting him -- a dozen times last month. The hosts side with her: after forty or fifty years of shared context, everything new is experienced through old memories, and unless she's comparing or pining, he's being oversensitive. Advice: skip the subtle hints and do the internal work.

The secular answer

The 'secular answer' advises the widower to confront his girlfriend frankly until she stops 'raising the dead in conversation.' The hosts call it straight foul -- insecure, terrible advice that treats a seventy-year-old woman's lifetime of memories as a problem to be fixed.

Outro

The hosts close a long episode -- joking about the iTunes size limit -- with the benediction: 'be faithful in the means; God will have the ends.'