How do you think the assassination attempt several weeks ago has changed Donald Trump? Profoundly? Not at all? Too early to tell? However you answer this question, it is only natural to ask it. Whenever someone has the kind of close, dramatic brush with death Donald Trump had a few weeks ago, it is perfectly natural to assume that it might change a person. Profoundly.
Whether it does or not is another matter. And in the case of Donald Trump, many already believe it hasn’t. At all. But it is perfectly natural for a near death experience to strike fear, terror, and even dread in us. And, at least in the initial days after the assassination attempt, it is widely reported that Trump’s experience had shaken him to the core. That he was taking stock of his life. That it was forcing him to contemplate the “bigger picture.”
Despite the false bravado some spout about not fearing death, close brushes with death are terrifying and sobering. They shake us up and force us to take a good look at the way we’re living. That’s because death is the ultimate unknown. No one knows for sure what awaits them on the other side. Quite naturally, we wonder and even worry whether this is it, whether there is life after death. Quite naturally, we wonder and even worry whether there is some final judgment, a real heaven and a real hell. Quite naturally, we wonder and even worry about where we will end up, how we would be judged.
Unless you’re the next Mother Theresa, most of us don’t feel ready to face God. We fear having to give an account of our lives. We know we need to make changes to the way we’re living. This is why people who have close brushes almost without exception take a deep look at the way they are living and frequently make significant changes as a result.
If you’ve ever read the Gospels, you’ve probably noticed how often Jesus talks about final judgment. Frequently, he speaks about coming at the end of time to judge the world and condemn those who haven’t believed in him, who have failed to do his Father’s will.
But if you have read the Gospels, you’ve probably also noticed that in other places Jesus frames final judgment in nearly the opposite way. He says that he judges no one (John 8:15). That he came only to save, not to condemn; that we are the ones who determine our own eternal destiny—heaven or hell—depending on what our lives betray we ultimately love most, the darkness or the light (Jn 3:16-19). And that, if we love the darkness more than the light—i.e., Jesus, who is the Light of the World (Jn 1:9, 8:12)—it is we who condemn ourselves.
So which is it? Does Jesus judge us? Or do we judge ourselves? Is judgement based on his assessment of how we have responded to him and lived our lives? Or is it based on what we have chosen to love most in life, and, if that is something other than God more than God, thereby condemned ourselves?
If you have read the Gospels, you’ve probably also noticed what many scholars and commentators have noted: The Gospel of John perceives the deeper meaning of Jesus’ teachings in ways that Matthew, Mark, and Luke often don’t. For example, it is John who sees that when Jesus talks about how the Father is going to glorify him, it isn’t just when he is “lifted up” in his resurrection and ascension. John penetrates into the deeper, and profoundly more paradoxical, fact that Jesus’ glory will be displayed just as fully when he is “lifted up” on the cross. John understands that the cross reveals Jesus’ divine glory and divine identity every bit as much as his resurrection and ascension do; that it is the fullest, most glorious expression of divine love possible.
Thus, we can be confident that of the two ways Jesus talks about final judgment, it is John who captures the deeper reality of what Jesus meant, what actually happens in the final judgment—that Jesus condemns no one. Rather, it is we who determine our eternal destiny based on what we have chosen to love more—the darkness or the light. Whether we love Jesus above all, or not. Whether the way we have lived our lives have reflected this fact, or not.
So why at times does Jesus talk about final judgment in nearly the opposite way? Why does he depict such terrifying scenes of the final judgment? With him as judge? Condemning people to hell? Why, at times, is Jesus so “judgy”?
The best explanation I ever heard to this is something called “The Newman Principle.”
The Newman Principle is based on a scene from the 1981 movie Fort Apache the Bronx. In that movie, Paul Newman plays a cop assigned to the South Bronx. One day, he and his partner pull up to a crazed, knife-wielding maniac who is menacing a gathering crowd. In a bizarre move, Newman flips his cap around, starts making funny faces, and acts crazier than the crazed knife-wielder! Which completely catches him off guard and, within a few short minutes, compels this agitated madman to calm down and drop the knife.
Newman’s behavior is so shocking and terrifying, it totally disarms this crazed knife-wielder and gets him to actually act sanely. This is the so-called Newman Principle: Approaching a crazy person by acting crazier than they are is so sobering that it restores their sanity.
When it comes to the way we live our lives, we are in the same boat as this crazed knife-wielder. We can’t see how “crazy” our approach to life is. We live as if we are never going to die. We rarely, if ever, think deeply about our eternity—if we will have one and if so, what our eternal destiny might be. We go through most of our lives giving little thought to the “bigger picture.”
This becomes acutely evident when someone has a close brush with death. It is only because we so rarely focus on the big picture that these brushes cause us to feel the need to take stock of our lives and make changes. It is only because we so rarely focus on the big picture that we feel dread about the prospect of facing God in final judgment and having to give an account of our lives.
If we were able to look at ourselves soberly, we’d see that we are out of our minds. That we get so caught up with, worry about, and obsessed by things that don’t really matter in the end, that have no direct bearing on our eternal destiny. That we live largely oblivious to what, if we were in our right minds, we should be laser focused upon.
And this is precisely why Jesus is so judgy at times. He approaches us as we are, crazy. His terrifying warnings, seemingly so out of character from the unconditional love that characterizes everything else about him, are intended to shock us. Disarm us. Snap us out of it. They are designed to make us “sane”, to focus on what really matters, to see what truly is the “main thing” in life, to think deeply about our eternal destiny and live deeply with this in mind.
A perfect example of how “crazed” we are, how easily we get carried away with non-ultimate things, is our modern American approach to politics. As many commentators have noted, politics has become our new religion. This is why we get so fired up about it. Including many who claim to be Christian, yet exude far more passion about politics than about Jesus! It is why we give it so much weight, why it’s become so absolute, so ultimate, so all or nothing.
Just look at how we talk about it, in such life-or-death, existential, even cosmic terms, as a battle between good and evil—our party or ideology being on the side of good, of course, with the other side of the aisle not simply being wrong or misguided but an existential threat that must be destroyed. We cast ourselves, our side, as the heroes and the other side as the villains, our mortal enemies.
I’m not saying politics isn’t important, or that we shouldn’t be actively involved in it—for a Christian, it is imperative to work for justice and peace, to seek to protect the sacred dignity of all people. And this often only happens or only happens most impactfully by entering into the political arena.
But we have taken it too far. We bow at the altar of the Democratic or Republican Party. We are so “in love” with our progressive or MAGA ideology that it propels us to intense levels of “madness”, igniting our rage against fellow Americans as if they are the enemy, instead of the foreign adversaries determined to destroy us who are the true enemies of America.
Politics is important. But for many of us, it has become idolatrous. When our religion becomes the democratic party or the republican party or some ideology, it’s become our idol. That’s what we love most.
But do we really want to die on this hill? Is this what we want to live for? Is politics this ultimate, is it the “main thing”? Obviously not. It would be quite depressing if it was. Clearly, we are in desperate need to have this spell broken, of something to shock us out of our crazed, idolatrous obsessions, whether it is this sweeping obsession with politics modern America has fallen into, or whether it is anything else that keeps us individually from focusing on ultimate matters, that keeps us from loving the Light more.
This is why Jesus was so judgy at times. It scares us. Catches us off guard. Captures our attention. Disarms us.
Despite making it clear that he judges no one, that judgment is a matter of what we love most in the end, he knew that, that when it comes to living our lives soberly, in the full awareness of what is really at stake, focusing on the thing that matters most—our eternal destiny—we aren’t in our right minds. When it comes to the big picture, we need to be shocked into thinking clearly. Sanely. Soberly.
Like Donald Trump’s recent experience, like a close brush with death, Jesus knows we need to be shocked out of our crazy malaise, forced to sober up about how we are living our lives, how it will determine our eternal destiny. That’s what his terrifying warnings about the final judgment do. They are designed to make us “sane”, to see the Light, to see who he truly is.
One of the best examples of this is Albert Pujols, the future Hall of Fame baseball player. As he was approaching retirement a few years ago, I saw a special about his life. Pujols is renowned as much for the charitable work he has done off the field as he is for what he has done on the field. He has also been very public about the importance of his faith. He’s made it clear that it is the most important thing in his life, even more important than baseball.
The Christianity Pujols grew up with involved a lot of fire and brimstone, a heavy emphasis on the judgy Jesus. When he met his wife and began to take his faith seriously, he was motivated by fear, by the account he would have to eventually give in final judgment.
But as he talked more about what his faith has meant to him down through the years, how deeply it has impacted his life, he spoke in very moving terms about how grateful he was for his Savior. He marveled that Jesus, his Savior, would die for him, would give up everything to save him.
The more Pujols continued talked about Jesus his Savior, the less he sounded like someone who feared final judgment and the more he sounded like someone who had fallen in love with God.
And the more he talked about what motivates all the charitable endeavors he’s involved, the less he sounded like someone who was preparing a resume to stand before God and give an account for his and the more he sounded like someone who was motivated by the profound gratitude he feels for all his Savior has done for him.
The way Pujols ended up speaking about Jesus was full of love. There was no more fear in his words. No fear; only love. He was speaking like a man who clearly, unequivocally, loved God more than anything else. Who clearly preferred the Light more than the darkness. Who clearly lived in a way that showed he loved the Light of the World most.
Pujols is a great example of how fear led him to love. The fear of judgment made him think about how he was living his life and put his trust in Christ. But as he got deeper into his faith, he fell in love with Jesus. He began to see “sanely” who Jesus really is: Not a terrifying judge, but the lover of our souls. The One who comes not to condemn, but only to save. The One whose perfect love cast out all fear.
Alas, fear doesn’t really change anyone. Not long term. Only love can do that. But fear can sober us up, inject a strong dose of sanity into us, and thereby force us to us reevaluate what we are living for, what we love most.
In accord with the Newman Principle, this is what Jesus’ judgement language has the power to do. That’s why he uses it. Like a close brush with death, it has the power to disarm us and make us take stock of our lives. To contemplate eternity. To see the big picture. To ask what we love more: the darkness or the light. And then make sure we are living in a way that reflects that.
And as with Albert Pujols, even if we start in fear, Jesus’ judgment language is ultimately designed to lead us to the point where we can fall in love with God. Where we genuinely do love the light more than the darkness. Where we no longer fear God, because now we see him “sanely”. As he wants us to. As he truly is—pure, perfect, unconditional love.
On the last day, Jesus will come to judge the world. But as John records in his Gospel, He judges no one. He will condemn no one. He desires nothing more than that all would choose the Light, would choose him. So, Jesus will only come in judgment to ratify what we have already determined our eternal destiny to be—by what we have lived our lives for, by what we have devoted them to.
In the End, he will give us what we love most. For all eternity. But if we have loved anything other than him more than him, if we have devoted our lives to something other than God, then we will have condemned ourselves. Because if we haven’t chosen him, the one thing he cannot give us is the one thing that can only come with his presence: Perfect love—and the unspeakable bliss and infinite ecstasy only his love produces.
So whether or not Donald Trump uses his close brush with death to take stock of his life and live with an eternal perspective, it would be good for the rest of us to use this moment to do so. It would be good for us ask if we love the light more than the darkness, if we love him above all.
Because, if there is anything that comes through in the Gospels about Jesus, this is it: What we will come face to face with on judgment day will be a God of pure and perfect and unconditional love.
So, please God, may we all reflect deeply on that and choose to love him for all eternity.
Do you think Trump has changed? What do you think of the Newman Principle? I’d love to hear your thoughts. You can go to the “Contact E. J.” Page of the Raising Jesus website and leave them there. I look forward to hearing from you!
