Should Christians get tattoos, and is it Biblical?

Luke J. Wilson | 05th May 2025 | Politics

When we think about David and Saul, we often focus on David’s rise to kingship or his battle with Goliath. But hidden within that story is a deep lesson for today’s generation about leadership, resistance, and the power of revolutionary love. At a recent youth training event (thanks to South West Youth Ministries), I was asked how I would present the story of David and Saul to a Christian teenage youth group. My mind turned to the politics of their relationship, and how David accepted Saul’s leadership, even when Saul had gone badly astray. David recognised that Saul was still God’s anointed king — placed there by God Himself — and that it was not David’s place to violently remove him. Gen-Z are more politically aware and engaged than previous generations, and are growing up in a world where politics, leadership, and social issues seem impossible to escape. We live in a world where political leaders — whether Trump, Putin, Starmer, or others — are often seen as examples of failed leadership. It’s easy to slip into bitterness, cynicism, or violent rhetoric. These kids are immersed in a culture of activism and outrage.  As Christians, we’re called to care deeply about truth and justice and approach leadership differently from the world around us (Hosea 6:6; Isaiah 1:17; Micah 6:8). The story of David and Saul offers pertinent lessons for our modern lives. Respect Without Endorsement David’s respect for Saul was not blind loyalty. He did not agree with Saul’s actions, nor did he ignore Saul’s evil. David fled from Saul’s violence; he challenged Saul’s paranoia; he even cut the corner of Saul’s robe to prove he had the chance to kill him but chose not to. Yet throughout, David refused to take matters into his own hands by force. Why? Because David understood that even flawed authority ultimately rested in God’s hands, he trusted that God would remove Saul at the right time. This is echoed later in the New Testament when Paul writes in Romans 13 that “there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God”, something even Jesus reminded Pilate of during his trial (John 19:10–11). In other words, even flawed leadership can be part of God’s bigger plan, whether for blessing or discipline. Even when leaders go bad, our call as believers is to maintain integrity, respect the position, and resist evil through righteousness — not rebellion. David and Saul: A Lesson in Respect and Restraint Saul was Israel’s first king — anointed by God but later corrupted by pride, fear, and violence. David, chosen to succeed him, spent years running for his life from Saul’s jealous rage. One day, David found Saul alone and vulnerable in a cave. His men urged him to strike Saul down and end the conflict. But David refused: “I will not raise my hand against my lord; for he is the Lord’s anointed.” (1 Samuel 24:10) Instead of killing Saul, David cut off a piece of his robe to prove he could have harmed him, but didn’t. In doing so, he demonstrated a real form of nonviolent resistance. He stood firm against Saul’s injustice without resorting to injustice himself, and acted in a way that could try to humble Saul instead. Peacemaking Is Not Passivity There is a modern misconception that peacemaking means doing nothing and just letting injustice roll all over us. But true biblical peacemaking is not passive; it actively resists evil without becoming evil. Interestingly, David’s actions toward Saul also foreshadow the type of nonviolent resistance Jesus later taught. When Jesus commanded His followers to turn the other cheek, go the extra mile, and love their enemies, he was not calling for passive submission but offering what scholar Walter Wink describes as a “third way” — a bold, peaceful form of resistance that uses what he calls “moral jiu-jitsu” to expose injustice without resorting to violenc...

Luke J. Wilson | 21st April 2025 | Easter

Over the years, I’ve encountered many Christians who’ve quoted from Alexander Hislop’s The Two Babylons as if it were a solid historical resource. The book claims that the Roman Catholic Church is not truly Christian but rather a continuation of ancient Babylonian religion. It’s self-assured and sweeping, and for many people, it seems to explain everything, from Marian devotion to Lent and Easter, to Christmas, as rooted in paganism. But is it accurate? In short: no, it really isn’t. Hislop’s work is a classic example of 19th-century pseudohistory — a polemical piece, written to prove a point, not to explore any historical truth. Flawed Methods and Wild Claims Hislop argues that most Catholic practices — from the Mass and clerical robes to festivals like Christmas and Easter — were somehow borrowed from Babylonian religion. The problem being that Hislop doesn’t rely on primary sources or credible historical data. Instead, he draws connections based on word similarities (like Easter and Ishtar) or visual resemblances (like Mary and child compared with mother-goddess statues from ancient cultures). But phonetic resemblance isn’t evidence, and neither is visual similarity. For example, if I say “sun” and “son” in English, they may sound alike, but they aren’t the same thing. That’s the level of reasoning at work in much of The Two Babylons. Hislop often lumps together completely different ancient figures — Isis, Semiramis, Ishtar, Aphrodite — as if they were all just variations of the same deity. He then tries to say Mary is just the Christian version of this pagan goddess figure. But there’s no credible evidence for that at all. Mary is understood through the lens of Scripture and Christian theology, not through pagan myth. The earliest depictions of Mary and the Christ-child date back to the second century and do not resemble any of the pagan idols. But, again, the common accusations are based on superficial similarities of a woman nursing a child. That’s going to look the same no matter who or what does that! Oldest depiction of Mary. Dura-Europos Church, Syria, 2nd century What About Lent and Tammuz? One of Hislop’s more popular claims is that Lent comes from a Babylonian mourning ritual for the god Tammuz, mentioned in Ezekiel 8:14. He argues that early Christians borrowed the 40-day mourning period and just rebranded it. But this doesn’t line up with the evidence. Lent developed as a time of fasting and repentance leading up to Easter — especially for new believers preparing for baptism. The number forty comes from Scripture: Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, Moses’ fast on Sinai, and Elijah’s journey to Horeb. Church Fathers like Irenaeus and Athanasius saw it as a time for self-denial and spiritual renewal — not mourning a pagan god. Yes, there are pagan festivals that involve seasonal death and rebirth stories. But similarity does not mean origin. If that logic held, then even Jesus’ resurrection would be suspect because pagan cultures also told resurrection-like stories. Yet the gospel stands apart — not because of myth but because of history and revelation. Why Hislop’s Work Persists Even though The Two Babylons is poor scholarship, it’s unfortunately had a long shelf life. That’s partly because it appeals to a certain kind of suspicion. If you’re already sceptical about the Catholic Church, Hislop offers an easy explanation: “It’s all pagan!”. But history isn’t ever that simple. And theology — especially the theology handed down through the ages by the faithful— isn’t built on conspiracy and apparent obscure connections, but on Christ and the truth of the Scriptures. Interestingly, even Ralph Woodrow, a minister who once wrote a book defending Hislop’s ideas, later retracted his views after digging deeper into the evidence. He eventually wrote a book called The Babylon Connect...

Darwin to Jesus | 16th April 2025 | Atheism

Guest post by Darwin to Jesus Dostoevsky famously said, “If there is no God, then everything is permitted.” For years, as an atheist, I couldn’t understand what he meant, but now I do… Here’s a simple analogy that shows why only theism can make sense of morality: Imagine you just got hired at a company. You show up, set up your desk, and decide to use two large monitors. No big deal, right? But then some random guy walks up to you and says: “Hey, you’re not allowed to do that.” You ask, “What do you mean?” They say, “You’re not permitted* to use monitors that big.” In this situation, the correct response would be: “Says who?” We’ll now explore the different kinds of answers you might hear — each one representing a popular moral theory without God — and why none of them actually work. Subjective Morality The random guy says, “Well, I personally just happen to not like big monitors. I find them annoying.” Notice that’s not a reason for you to change your setup. Their personal preferences don’t impose obligations on you. This is what subjective morality looks like. It reduces morality to private taste. If this were the answer, you’d be correct to ignore this person and get back to work — big monitors are still permitted. Cultural Relativism Instead, they say, “It’s not just me — most people here don’t use big monitors. It’s not our culture.” That’s cultural relativism: right and wrong are just social customs, what is normal behavior. But notice customs aren’t obligations. If the culture were different, the moral rule would be different, which means it isn’t really moral at all. You might not fit in. You might not be liked. But you’re still permitted to use big monitors. Emotivism Here after being asked “says who?” the person just blurts out, “Boo, big monitors!” You reply, “Hurrah, big monitors!” That’s the entire conversation. This is emotivism. On this moral theory when we talk about right and wrong we’re actually just expressing our personal feelings towards actions, I boo rape, you hurrah rape. But shouting “boo!” at someone doesn’t create real obligations. You’re still permitted to use large monitors. Utilitarianism Here, the person says, “Your big monitors lower the overall productivity of the office. You’re not permitted to use them because they lead to worse consequences.” This is utilitarianism: morality is based on producing the greatest happiness for the greatest number. But even if that’s true — so what? Who says you’re obligated to maximize group productivity? And what if your monitors actually help you work better? Utilitarianism might tell you what leads to better outcomes, but it doesn’t tell you why you’re morally obligated to follow that path — especially if it comes at your own expense. You’re still permitted to use large monitors. Virtue Ethics Here they say, “Using big monitors just doesn’t reflect the virtues we admire here — simplicity, humility, restraint.” This is virtue ethics. Morality is about becoming the right kind of person. But who defines those virtues? And why are you obligated to follow them? What if your idea of a virtuous worker includes productivity and confidence? Without a transcendent standard, virtues are just cultural preferences dressed up in moral language. If you don’t care about virtue or their arbitrary standards, then you have no obligation. You’re still permitted to use large monitors. Atheist Moral Realism But what if they say, “Listen, there’s a rule. It’s always been here. It says you can’t use monitors that large.” You ask, “Who made the rule?” They say, “No one.” You ask, “Who owns this company?” They say, “No one owns it. The company just exists.” You look around and ask, “Where is the rule?” They say, “You won’t find it w...

Luke J. Wilson | 09th April 2025 | History

We often hear that Jesus was “about 33 years old” when he was crucified and only had a three-year ministry. But have you ever wondered how precise that number is, or why we assume that was his age, especially when Scripture doesn’t specify? Table of Contents The Gospel of Luke: “About Thirty” Early Church Testimony: Irenaeus and the Longer Ministry Historical Anchors: Birth, Pilate, and the Crucifixion Window The Death of Herod Cross-referencing with Pilate, Caiaphas, and Jesus When Did Tiberius Begin to Reign? 1. From his co-regency with Augustus (AD 11–12) 2. From the death of Augustus (AD 14) How Does This Affect Jesus’ Age and Ministry Start? Astronomy and the Timing of Passover Estimated Lengths of Jesus’ Ministry Why This Matters In Summary Further Reading I’ve long wondered about this, especially when the Pharisees accused Jesus of not being close to fifty, which seems odd if he was only in his early 30s. Then I later discovered Irenaeus also had similar thoughts in the second century, and the plot thickened! I’ve had this rumbling around in the back of my mind for a few years now and slowly chewed it over. So now I’m going to try and present the evidence, rather than rely solely on tradition and assumptions, and piece together what the Gospels, early Church Fathers, historical data, and even astronomy can tell us about the potential age of Jesus and the length of his ministry. What follows is a deeper, richer look at the life and death of Jesus and what we can learn by following the evidence. The Gospel of Luke: “About Thirty” Luke 3:23 tells us plainly: Jesus was about thirty years old when he began his work. This statement has historically been the anchor point for dating Jesus’ ministry. Most take this to mean he was around 30 at his baptism, which marked the beginning of his public ministry. Something to bear in mind here is that Luke isn’t exact and only says “about thirty”, so he could have been slightly younger or older at the time. But being around the age of 30 would align with the requirements of priests, which Jesus was also fulfilling the role of (Hebrews 2:17; Numbers 4:1–4; Numbers 8:23–25). But from there, it’s traditionally assumed that Jesus ministered for just three years before his death, mainly based on the Gospel of John, which mentions three Passovers (John 2:13, 6:4, 11:55). However, John also says at the end of his Gospel in John 21:25: But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written. This is a clear reminder, even if John is being hyperbolic here: not everything was recorded. Considering that the Synoptic Gospels only mention one Passover, the number of Passovers we read about in John may not reflect the total number Jesus experienced during his ministry. They may also serve a theological point (three being a prominent number in Scripture) rather than a chronological one. Early Church Testimony: Irenaeus and the Longer Ministry In the second century, Irenaeus, bishop of Lyon and disciple of Polycarp (who had also known the Apostle John and was likely his disciple), made an interesting claim about the age of Jesus — and backed it up by saying it was verified by the Apostle John himself! In Against Heresies (2.22.4–6), Irenaeus wrote: …our Lord possessed [old age] while He still fulfilled the office of a Teacher, even as the Gospel and all the elders testify, those who were conversant in Asia with John, the disciple of the Lord, [affirming] that John conveyed to them that information. … Some of them, moreover, saw not only John but the other apostles also, and heard the same account from them, and bear testimony to this statement. He argued that the line in John 8:57: Then the Jews said to him, ‘You are not yet fifty years old, and have you seen Abraha...