The title gives us King David’s sentiments when he heard Jonathan and Saul had been slain by the Philistines on the slopes of Mount Gilboa.
Saul sealed his own fate by his impetuous headlong plunge away from the Lord. Jonathan, on the other hand, had shown the nobility of a prince with God. But loyalty to his father pulled him into this suicide mission.
We might also sadly apply the title to some of our great institutions today. Take Harvard, once considered the vanguard of scholarship.
Its motto for much of its early history, adopted in 1692, read, “Veritas Christo et Ecclesiae” or “Truth for Christ and His Church.” Imagine that! Eventually the wise ones thought they could keep the “Veritas” while discarding “Christo et Ecclesiae.” An utter impossibility! Christ IS the Truth. (John 14:6)
Recently Harvard hit a new low by announcing some courses for the coming school year: “‘RuPaulitics: Drag, Race, and Desire’ and ‘Queer Ethnography.’” To teach these, they hired a new “Visiting Associate Professor of Gender and Sexuality Studies” who also happens to be a drag queen with an X-rated stage name. Is this 21st century education?
It isn’t just Harvard. Seven of eight Ivy League schools were started as Christian institutions. But they long ago sent both Christ and Truth packing.
Far more concerning are churches that no longer preach the clear gospel. It isn’t enough to claim the “Evangelical” title if you aren’t actually evangelistic. Say, Christian, who was the last person with whom you shared the Good News of salvation?
I’m reminded of the story—whether fable or fact—about a church once filled with Christ-loving, Bible-living, gospel-preaching believers.
They had carved the following words above the archway leading into the churchyard: “We Preach Jesus Christ and Him Crucified,” words taken from a life goal of the apostle Paul. (1 Corinthians 2:2)
In time, the church became too modern to preach the old-time gospel. The cross was considered too crude for polite society. At the same time, ivy growing on the archway covered the last three words.
Now it read, “We Preach Jesus Christ,” an admirable subject in itself. But it’s not primarily a Great Example we need, nor a Great Teacher, either. What we need is a Great Savior. Without Christ crucified and raised again, sinners have no hope.
The ivy’s tendrils continued to grow, soon covering that blessed name, “Jesus Christ,” as those who occupied both pulpit and pews laid aside their Bibles for other purposes— keeping marriage programs and death announcements, wildflower pressing and dust collecting. The church became a place of earth-bound positive thinking, tepid pep talks, and mere moralizing.
At last, just before the doors closed for the last time, the carving only read, “We Preach.” Big deal.
It’s likely too late for the Ivy League, but not for the ivy, so to speak, covering our message.
How many of us are tired of half-hearted, hum-drum Christianity? Who of us will stand up and say, “I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me”? (Galatians 2:20, BSB)
Dying to self. Growing in Christ. Living by faith. Driven by love. Welcome back, church!
Article published October 18, 2025 in the Commercial Dispatch.