CONVERSION OR REBIRTH?
HALIFAX, Nova Scotia, September 12, 2026 – As many of you know, I was reborn from atheism. No-one preached to me; I didn’t struggle with giving up vices or wondering whether one doctrine was superior to another: I simply submitted to God not even knowing it was God I was submitting to, and he healed me. By “healed”, I mean he exorcised all the demons that were in me and replaced them with his Holy Spirit.
I was reborn before I knew I was reborn. I was a believer even before I knew what I believed. My belief didn’t result from indoctrination but from the sudden inrush of God’s Holy Spirit into my soul, where it’s been ever since. I was a believer the instant I was reborn; I was reborn and instantly believed. The two—rebirth and belief—are inseparable, as belief expresses the presence of God’s Holy Spirit in a soul. Without that abiding presence, there is no God-given belief, only a desire to believe or an “I think I believe” or a belief that waxes and wanes with life’s circumstances.
I mention this because the two terms “rebirth” and “conversion” are often used interchangeably, including by me. Yet what is meant by these terms can be something entirely different. Rebirth is what I touched on above, whereas conversion can mean rebirth or it can mean a change—sudden or gradual—from one state to another, from one frame of mind to another, from one lifestyle to another, without God’s violent intervention. In conversions without rebirth, alcoholics embrace sobriety, Lotharios swear off women, and party girls vow chastity, all while subsuming their newfound “righteous living” under a Christian framework. These and similar changes, though commendable, are self-imposed and self-directed rather than God-imposed and God-directed, which means they’re difficult to sustain and typically end in failure, even with ongoing support from a congregation or other helping hand.
A massive portion of the worldly church is made up of such converts. Unfortunately, they struggle with their faith as much as with their day-to-day lives. Not having God and Jesus as their counsellors, they lean on friends, mentors, spouses, colleagues, doctors, life coaches, etc., gaining a form of worldly wisdom but not the wisdom that comes from above. They share the same desires and problems as the world, and they respond to those desires and problems in the same way as the world. Eventually, usually during a crisis (like the death of a child or other major loss), some converts relapse and leave Christianity altogether.
On the other hand, some non-reborn converts harden in place and neither grow nor shrink, like the scribes and Pharisees, lawyers and Sadducees mentioned in scripture. They either build ministries themselves or become ministers and priests in established Christian strongholds, wholly devoted to their denominations and creeds rather than to God and his Word. They serve “the church” instead of serving God and approach their faith as a job rather than a relationship with God and Jesus through God’s Holy Spirit. And while they may be faithful in doing their job—some are enormously faithful in their jobs—they have little joy in the doing of it and are constantly battling temptation.
I do not mean to belittle anyone here, including myself. I’m merely pointing out the difference between conversion that results from rebirth and conversion that does not. As I mentioned at the outset, the terms “rebirth” and “conversion” are used interchangeably, which can lead to confusion. A convert who is not reborn lowers his or her chances of remaining a Christian, whereas a convert who is reborn dare not lose the presence of God’s Holy Spirit, because there’s no way to get it back, and the exit of God’s Spirit from a soul guarantees eternal damnation.
The stakes are infinitely higher for a reborn convert than for a non-reborn convert, just as life circumstances and source of belief are entirely different. At his ascension, Jesus warned his disciples not to be “witnesses” of the Gospel until they’d received God’s Holy Spirit, which they then did ten days later at Pentecost. Rebirth conversion is sudden, violent, glorious, ecstatic, and undeniably real. It also lasts a lifetime, except in very rare cases. Non-rebirth conversions are nothing like that and often end in failure or greatly diminished faith.
Rebirth is conversion, but conversion is not always rebirth. As bornagain believers, we need to be acutely aware of these differences when we interact with the worldly church and with the world.
WHY PARABLES?
HALIFAX, Nova Scotia, September 12, 2026 – Why did Jesus teach in parables? Why did he not, like the Old Testament prophets, just blast out a “thus saith the Lord” and then proceed to proclaim precisely whatever was on his (and God’s) mind? As bornagain believers, we sit at Jesus’ feet (or on God’s lap) and are taught in plain speech, but for those who are not God’s children—that is, for those who have ears to hear but hear not, and eyes to see, but see not—other teaching methods are required. Parables fit the bill perfectly.
First and foremost, though, it needs to be stated that Jesus taught in parables because it was prophesied that the Messiah would teach in parables. Teaching in parables was one of the sure-fire signs of the Messiah. And so, being the Messiah, Jesus could therefore not not teach in parables. In other words, it would have been impossible for him not to teach in parables and still be the Messiah.
Secondly, teaching in parables was a way of getting the Gospel message across to the spiritually deaf and blind, who would otherwise be unable to receive it. God withheld spiritual hearing and sight from these people, but they still needed to learn right from wrong (or, for some who would later convert, to learn about the Kingdom). Parables helped to override spiritual disabilities.
Then there were those who, from the get-go, wanted nothing to do with God. This was a whole different level of spiritual blindness and deafness. Parables “hid” the presence of God in engaging stories, much like puréed broccoli can be “hidden” in spaghetti sauce to get kids to eat their veggies. The broccoli by itself they might outright reject, but the spaghetti sauce with the hidden broccoli – YUM! Similarly, talking about God under another guise can draw in the spiritually challenged without them even knowing they’re learning about God. They just think they’re eating spaghetti! ;D
Additionally, among the spiritually deaf and blind in Jesus’ day were those who deemed the Gospel “hate speech” (blasphemy) and a direct attack on the governing authorities. Teaching in parables afforded Jesus protection from arrest, and so he candy-coated his message for public consumption. Even so, he was banned from public discourse in many parts of Judea, and he accordingly avoided those areas. But in private discourse among his disciples and other close followers, Jesus dispensed with the coating, serving the Gospel straight up with detailed explanations, like he still does for us today.
Finally, the parables, being story-oriented, paint a vivid picture using strong and recognizable characters doing relatable things. We recognize the characters in our lives and even relate to some. If we aren’t the father of the prodigal son, we’re the prodigal son; if we aren’t the father or the prodigal son, we’re likely the resentful older brother. If we aren’t the father, the prodigal son or the older brother, we probably know people just like them. Being able to recognize these characters in our own lives helps to personalize the message, which then helps us to relate to the parable, making it easier to recall, retell, and absorb.
Whether because it was prophesied, or because it worked around spiritual challenges, or because it afforded a level of protection from authorities, or because it was just a handy way to tell a good story, teaching in parables was God’s chosen way for Jesus to preach the Word in public. Following Jesus’ example, we should still be preaching parables in public today, serving up “plain broccoli” for believers only.
LAST SECOND: ON THE WOMAN CAUGHT IN ADULTERY
HALIFAX, Nova Scotia, September 9, 2026 – One of my favourite parts of John’s gospel is the section at the start of Chapter 8 about the woman caught in adultery. In those verses, we see how Jesus dealt with her compared to how the scribes and Pharisees wanted her dealt with. You can read the verses here.
First of all, you can tell by the triumphant tone of the scribes and Pharisees that they thought the whole issue was a slam-dunk. Not only was the Commandment rock-solid that adultery was forbidden, but Jewish law stated that those who committed that sin were to be stoned to death. The woman had been caught in the act, presumably by more than one witness, and had said nothing in her own defence, which indicated that she had acknowledged her guilt. Although the verses don’t describe the woman, you can imagine the disheveled state of her hair and clothing, her tear-streaked face that she tried unsuccessfully to hide as she was dragged (paraded) through the streets. You can imagine her agonizing shame at the jeers and leers that were thrown at her, possibly even by people who knew her and/or her family. You can imagine that for the woman caught “in the very act”, this was likely the very worst moment of her life.
Enter Jesus. As was his habit, he’d been teaching in the temple, using the loose dirt on the ground as a chalkboard and his finger as chalk. He likely heard the commotion caused by the vigilantes long before he saw them, and once he did see them, he knew exactly what they were up to: They had come to tempt him.
In response, Jesus immediately steeled himself to deal with his tempters by opening an emergency prayer line to God.
After the scribes and Pharisees had presented the woman to Jesus and described her sin, Jesus appeared to ignore them. Scripture states that he leaned down and continued to finger-write on the ground as if they weren’t even there. The verse literally states that he acted “as if he heard them not”, which indicates that he not only probably hadn’t said a word to them yet, but he hadn’t reacted to them in any way.
You can imagine the accusers’ barely suppressed outrage at Jesus’ unexpected silence. You can imagine the restless quiet of the mob that had followed the posse to the temple. Perhaps the only sounds for the better part of a minute were the woman’s muffled sobs punctured by the occasional “Stone her!”… until Jesus finally emerged from his deep huddle with God, rose to his feet, and stated calmly: “He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone at her.”
They hadn’t expected this. They hadn’t expected their “gotcha!” moment to be thrown back in their faces. By publicly presenting the woman to Jesus, they had publicly deferred to his authority, meaning that they had to accept whatever he decreed. And what he decreed was that whoever was sinless among them—and only whoever was sinless—should begin the stoning.
Now, the scribes and Pharisees were a lot of things, but ignorant of the law was not one of them. They knew that if they presented themselves as sinless, they’d be guilty of blasphemy. The tables had been turned; the hunters were now prey. Knowing this, they had no choice but to withdraw themselves, which they did, leaving Jesus more or less alone with the woman.
The magnitude of God’s mercy is evident in the few words Jesus then exchanged with her. Jesus knew (because he knew people’s hearts) that the woman was deeply remorseful for what she’d done. He also knew that she was grateful to him for rescuing her. But sin is sin, and even when it’s resolved through God’s mercy, a finger of warning must be raised. This Jesus did by telling her not to sin again.
If I were a betting person, I’d bet that Jesus stared the woman straight in the face when he gave her the warning. I’d bet that the look in his eyes and the timbre of his voice stayed with her for the rest of her days, so that if she for even a brief moment so much as entertained a sinful thought, she’d see those eyes again and hear that voice. He gave her a second – but only a second – chance. If she sinned again, there’d be no more chances and no more mercy.
Ironically, Jesus himself could have initiated the stoning of the woman caught in adultery, since he was in fact the only one among them who was sinless. But he chose instead, under God’s guidance, to give the woman a second chance underscored by a final warning. This was mercy, yes, but not limitless mercy, not the “tolerant of sin” type of pseudo mercy that has become characteristic of so-called Christian dealings with the world. We are never to be tolerant of sin – NEVER – but we should also always be ready to extend mercy to the genuinely penitent when God indicates we should do so. We’ll know who are genuinely penitent because God will let us know, like he let Jesus know when he was seemingly off in his own little world, writing in the dirt.
Spiritually, we have all been that woman caught in adultery, in the very act. Had we not been, we wouldn’t be born again. We’ve all been given our second chance—our rebirth is our second chance—along with the warning not to sin again. Many of us have unwittingly come close to that precipice, only to be hauled back at the last second.
May we always be hauled back.
LAZARUS IN THE BALLROOM
HALIFAX, Nova Scotia, September 2, 2026 – I had the opportunity recently to join a “by invitation only mind-body-soul recharge retreat” that promised I’d achieve my “best possible me” if I’d only fork over $42,000 for a six-week program. I’m not sure how I got on the invitation list, but the information session was free and offered refreshments, so I was in (at least for the refreshments). I arrived at the hotel ballroom to find a lavish spread hovered over by an army of such impeccably groomed and impeccably professional servers that I thought at first they might not be real. By “not real” I mean I thought they might be the latest version of those made-in-China A.I. humanoid robots I’d been reading about (I’m still kind of thinking they were). Munching a handful of tiny round crustless sandwiches and wondering how the heck I ended up there, I settled into a cushy banquet chair to listen to the sales pitch.
There were at least a hundred of us in the ballroom, not counting the maybe-robots and the “team” giving the presentation. Most of the invitees were carefully coifed women of a certain age and of a certain wealth, and most had that slightly bored air of females who’d never had to worry a day in their lives about money or men or really anything at all. Again, I’m not sure how I got on the invitation list (woman of a certain age, check; woman of a certain wealth, uncheck), but there I was sitting among them like the “before” to their “after” version of a Stepford wife. Still, someone must have thought I’d want to become my best possible me enough to send me an e-vite.
Or they’d sent it to the wrong email address.
During the course of the presentation, it was confirmed that the $42,000 price tag for the six-week program was in American dollars, not Canadian, and that the price did not include transportation to and from the retreat (a tropical island halfway around the world), additional recommended onsite amenities, and other out-of-pocket expenses. The unofficial total hovered around $100 grand (CAD), leaving me fully out of contention. I sighed, shook my head, downed the last of my last tiny sandwich, and prepared to leave. A program mentor (one of several stationed strategically around the room like butlers) who’d been monitoring the attendees for just such a reaction, glided discretely over to me. “There are grants”, he breathed deep into my ear, “that you can apply for to cover your costs. We can talk about it later….” I sensed rather than saw his lingering smile as he leaned into me from behind. His aftershave smelled edible and his tone had the kind of measured seductiveness that came from years of practice. I wagered he’d whispered that tone into many an ear after first perfecting it to his satisfaction on a recording device in front of a mirror.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. Who wouldn’t want to be their best possible mind-body-soul me while there was still time for such a thing to matter, and all for free? I looked at the servers. I looked at the “team”. I even snuck a quick peek at my mentor-butler, erect and alert as a sentry. What exactly was I being offered, and by whom?
When the presentation moved onto the Q & A portion, I ran what I knew so far about the program through the what-did-Jesus-do filter that I run all my considerations through. Did Jesus, during his ministry years, want to be his “best possible me”? I believe he did. Would he have paid strangers big bucks to help him achieve that? Not a chance. What if the fees were waived? I’m listening….
But Jesus did in fact do an approximately six-week mind-body-soul retreat, just before he started his ministry, though no swanky sales presentation preceded it and it didn’t cost a dime. He knew even before God’s Spirit drove him into the wilderness that he’d be facing 40 grueling days and nights of cold, thirst, hunger, isolation, and sleeping rough, all topped off with temptations so satanically personalized that nearly everyone falls for them 100% of the time. But he also knew that through it all he would be watched over and protected not only by a host of heavenly angels, but also by God himself, none of whom (I’m pretty sure) he suspected might be A.I. robots.
I’m happy to report that I ultimately resisted the ballroom temptation. Not that I don’t want to be my best possible me; of course I do. I just didn’t want to be the version they wanted to sell me. I didn’t want to “unlock my financial freedom”. I didn’t want to “maintain a youthful appearance”. I didn’t want to “captivate every room I walked into”. And I didn’t want “guaranteed success” no matter what I did. And why didn’t I want those things that seemingly everyone else in the world wants? Because I’m happily bornagain, which means I’m happy with whatever God gives me, happy to look my age, happy to be a wallflower (unless God himself shines a spotlight on me), and happy with only the success I’ve earned, not “success” that’s “guaranteed” simply for existing.
I admit that I was initially curious about whether I could be a child of God and still go on such a worldly retreat, but while I was mulling it over, God reminded me of Lazarus – the poor one covered in sores, not the other one Jesus raised from the dead. Jesus described the poor Lazarus as patiently enduring all the crap dumped on him during his time here on Earth, after which he was richly rewarded in Heaven, while the rich guy, who knew Lazarus only as a wretched lump lying outside his front gate, dined sumptuously (on tiny round crustless sandwiches?) before ending up someplace decidedly hotter than Heaven.
I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want to burn for all eternity. Mind you, I also didn’t at first want to be Lazarus (I mean, who jumps at the opportunity to be destitute and covered in sores?). But if I have to choose between the two based on their eternal rewards (and we all have to make that choice, just like Jesus did in the wilderness), it’s Lazarus or bust.
Our time here is short. What we make of it is up to us. But if we choose options that are outside the will of God (that is, outside our best spiritual interests), we compromise our hereafter as well as our here and now. Being the best possible me in the eyes of the world is not the same as being the best possible me in the eyes of God. The two versions can sometimes not be farther apart.
We need reminding of this every now and then. And when we do, it usually comes in the strangest of places.
