Profiles in Christian Courage

An upcoming theme for The Long Renewal

First edition front cover of Profiles in Courage, 1956. Accessed at Wikimedia Commons.

Growing up, an old copy of Profiles in Courage by John F. Kennedy lived on the bookshelf in my family’s basement. Published in 1956, before he became president, it recounts acts of integrity by eight U.S. senators. A pattern emerges, as each pays a political price for doing the right thing.

My family’s copy of the book originally belonged to my maternal grandfather, a gift from his sister. He died of cancer in his late 30s, when my mother was still in elementary school. In the Navy during World War II, he had served in the Pacific. Years later, his loved ones would wonder if drifting radiation from atomic weapons tests had caused the fatal disease.

As a youth, the book was a curiosity to me, a connection to a grandfather I’d never met. It was older than the other books surrounding it. Its smell and cover art recalled an era that seemed very distant. Picking it up occasionally, I found its stories of political self-sacrifice interesting, if dated.

After I became a Christian in my twenties, I started thinking more about the value of sacrifice. I read about the earliest Apostles, most of whom, according to tradition, gave their lives for their faith in Jesus Christ. I learned about Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of the few Christians in Germany who refused to bow to Hitler’s Third Reich. I learned about ministers missionaries today who risk their lives to teach the Bible. Christian courage, it seems, goes hand in hand with a sacrificial spirit.

For his part, Jesus had a lot to say about self-sacrifice, including this:

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. (John 12:24–25)

In the centuries since Jesus spoke those words, countless Christians have humbly obeyed. Most who have done so are forgotten to history. But some of their stories remain with us. I recently asked for examples:

Responses brought up dozens of faithful people, their lives collectively spanning millennia. Some of the names I’m familiar with. Many, I’m not.

As I look over the comments once again, I’m reminded that I don’t know how to go about this. Do I start with Elizabeth Elliot, who went on to establish a legacy in her own right after her husband was martyred in Ecuador? Or Richard Wurmbrand, who suffered imprisonment and torture in communist Romania for his faith? How would I choose whether I begin with one of them—or someone else entirely?

Should I look to early Christians like Perpetua and Felicity? Or turn to a modern figure like John Wesley?

Even once I’ve chosen who to start with, which part of their life will I highlight? Individually, some of these figures offer enough material to fuel a blog for years. How am I going to whittle their stories down to bite-sized posts?

The truth is, I have no idea how to approach this. But I’m still excited about it.

For a while, I had a rhythm going here: a midweek post on a psalm, then a miscellaneous topic on the weekend. I’ll still mix in other themes, but the ‘profiles in courage’ focus will probably mean more infrequent posts overall. The research alone will push me that direction.

But the quantity of posts isn’t the goal. Knowing Jesus Christ and being faithful to him is. Ultimately, I want the examples of courageous Christians to encourage spiritual renewal in our lives. I want to show how their examples can point us to the Lord.

An example, after all, can be powerfully effective. Just ask the apostle Paul:

You are to imitate me, just as I imitate Christ. (1 Corinthians 11:1)

Of course, even with history’s most remarkable Christians, not everything is worthy of imitation. Consider Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who died nobly, but was once involved in a plot to assassinate Hitler. Or Martin Luther, whose zeal for Scripture didn’t keep him from careening into anti-Semitism later in life. Luther, of course, brings up another hurdle. Some figures have become Christian Rorschach tests, viewed very differently by believers from different traditions.

Can a Christ-follower today admire both Luther’s courage and that of John Paul II, the 20th century pope who defended the value of human life in the face of Soviet brutality? I think the answer is yes, and I’m convinced there’s particular value in learning to respect Christians you disagree with. It’s muscle group that a lot of us need to strengthen.

Navigating any kind of history raises thorny questions. Profiles in Courage does as well. The causes championed by some of the senators chosen by Kennedy (and his ghostwriter) may perplex or even trouble us today. “Why would you die on that hill?” we might ask. But the book still resonates because courage is a timeless virtue. There is something captivating about that rare person who sticks to their convictions even when it costs them greatly.

By God’s grace, many faithful Christians have done just that. And I look forward to sharing their stories.