There are lies, and then there are lies. Little lies and big lies. Deceptions of all kinds. Some say it was Mark Twain, others British Prime Minister Disraeli, but someone remarked that there are three kinds of lies: plain lies, flat-out lies, and statistics. Plain lies, flat-out lies, and statistics. You can take numbers and twist numbers around to mean just about anything you want. You can look at information and you can make it say whatever you want it to say.
A man named Darrell Huff published a book in 1954, and it became a best-seller. It’s still used in college math departments. His book was called How To Lie With Statistics. I am indebted to him for the title of my message today. How indebted am I? 22.3% indebted. Yes, I just made that number up. That’s one way to lie with statistics. Just pull a number out of the air and people will be impressed. When in doubt, use a statistic. How To Lie With Statistics.
How do you lie with statistics? There are a number of ways. You can talk about that mythical average family. You know, the kind of statistic that says that the average family consists of mother, father, and 2 1/2 children. How many of you have half a child in your home? I’ve known some half-baked people, but half a child? Mythical averages. I read of a person who drowned in a river whose average depth was only six inches; the trouble is that there was one trench in the middle of the river where there was a sudden drop to ten feet, and when he stepped in that, it didn’t matter what the average depth was!
Or you can lie with statistics by making everything into a gee-whiz situation. You can present figures so that everyone looking at them will just get an impression without thinking about what the numbers really say. The folks who tell you about the stock market do this all the time. If I want to prove that stocks are a good investment and that they grow nicely over time, I can draw a graph and stretch out the years so that the trend line goes up gradually, and people say, “Ho-hum, nothing to be concerned about. Here, take my money and invest it.” But, on the other hand, if I want to support a newspaper headline that says, “Billions lost on the stock market”, just by drawing a different scale, I could make that trend line plunge to the abyss, and everybody will say, “Crash! Put the money under the mattress.” You can lie with statistics just by the way you present them.
It’s all too tempting to use numbers to prove whatever you want. Jesus’ parable about the Pharisee and the tax collector warns us about that, and gets to the heart of things. The story Jesus told about two men standing in the temple to pray gives us ample evidence that when we start counting up our achievements, we, like the Pharisee, just might lie with statistics.
I
One way the Pharisee lied with statistics was to rely on a false comparison. A false comparison. He chose to describe himself with a vague and misleading comparison. You know, all of us can be really impressive if we just choose the right people to be compared with. When Rev. Kevin Norton came to preach six times in our revival, he told me that he hadn’t preached six sermons in his whole career. I thought about the fact that my file drawers contain about 600 sermons. So Smith is 100 times a better preacher than Norton, right? Wrong! No, Smith may have made the same mess 600 times, that’s all. Quantity has nothing to do with quality. We can lie with statistics by using false comparisons.
"Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ’God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.”
That is a misleading comparison. He argued that he was not like others, but he was. We are. We who are Christians, we didn’t get to be what we are because down deep we were better than other people. We got to be what we are because we are like others, we are sinners, flawed and broken, but something else happened to us. Our temptation is to forget that something else and to rely on false comparisons. Not like other people? Oh, yes, we are!
A number of years ago, Margaret’s parents were visiting us, and, since it was around my birthday, they decided that my birthday gift would be a new pair of shoes. Off we went to a department store to look at shoes. There on the rack was something I liked, and the price tag said, “On sale, $15.00” (That price alone probably tells you that this story goes back a few years!). My father-in-law, always eager for a bargain, asked the store clerk, “How much were these shoes before they went on sale?” The answer came back, “$15.00”. I thought maybe the guy had misunderstood, so I tried too, “No, $15.00 is the sale price. What we want to know is what was the price before these shoes were put on sale?” Guess what the answer was: “$15.00”. Well, at least the clerk was truthful. But the store lied with statistics. The store lied with a false comparison. The store tried to say, “These shoes are not like other shoes; these are a good buy.” But these shoes, despite appearances, were like other shoes.
And this Pharisee, despite appearances, was like other people. This Pharisee, despite his achievements, was like this tax collector. This Pharisee, despite his pride, was indeed a thief, a rogue, an adulterer. As we all are. As we all have larceny in our hearts, deception on our minds, and lust in our eyes. As we all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. The only difference is that some of us have experienced God’s forgiving grace, and some have not.
How to lie with statistics: make a false comparison. But, I tell you, the standard of comparison is not other people; the standard of comparison is Jesus Christ. The goal is not to be better than other people; the goal is to press forward to the measure of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Everything else is incomplete, everything else is imperfect, flawed, and sinful.
And so on this day set aside to celebrate the ultimate victory of Christ, we need to repent of our brokenness and to celebrate our redemption. We cannot parade our accomplishments, either as individuals or as a church, and say, “Look, we did it, and we did it better than others.” I cannot wave my bank account book in your face and be proud of tithing, not if it was done to impress you with my generosity. You cannot count up for me the number of services you’ve attended or prayer meetings you have graced, not if it was done out of fear or because you were hiding from the real world. We as a church cannot trot out our statistics and, good as they are, be satisfied with increased attendance, new members, financial success .. we cannot trot that all out and compare with this church up the street or that church downtown, because the only real issue is, “Have we done to the best of our capacity what God has called us to do?” “Have we fulfilled in this place in this year with these resources what God has commissioned us to do?” That’s the issue. Anything else is lying with statistics. It would be a false comparison.
We have some repenting to do today. We have failed to make Christ’s victory complete. I know that I repent personally for being less than vigorous in pursuing some goals. I repent as pastor for not just insisting that some things be done that we didn’t want to do. I repent of being more careful about what somebody might think of me than about my duty and responsibility before God.
I repent for having played the numbers game and having said, “Lord, I thank you that my church is not as other churches are, stingy, quarrelsome, petty, or even like those Catholics .. or those Methodists .. or whoever.” I must, we must, repent of self-serving and misleading comparisons, because it is never other people or other churches who measure our accomplishments. It is always Christ. Always Christ. And in our repentance today we would do well to pray the tax collector’s prayer,
“But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ’God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’“
II
False comparisons. But there’s a second way to lie with statistics. There’s a second way to twist numbers and make them say what we want them to say. And that is to use only part of the facts. To select only part of the truth. “Dad, everybody is going to that party tonight. I’ll be the only one not there.” Yes, everybody you carefully selected to ask. At the grocery store we picked up a bottle of salad dressing: “98% less fat.” Less than what? A Big Mac? “Eight out of ten doctors surveyed use this pill.” Which doctors? The ones on the payroll of the drug company? We use only one side of the truth. We take the statistic that we want, but blithely ignore the other side of the coin.
I saw a number the other day, on the 20th anniversary of the Jonestown mass suicide, “7% of all Americans have been involved in cult activity.” Think about that: “7 % of all Americans have been involved in cult activity.” What does that mean? First of all, what is a cult? Who is going to define a cult? My religion is a church; yours is a cult. And then, what do we mean by involved? Joined a commune, or went to one meeting? Sold flowers on the street corner, or bought a pamphlet from a vendor? “Involved” is a nebulous word. But, most important, if 7% of all Americans are involved in cult activity, even if that is true in some way, so what? 93% are not involved! 93% leave cults alone! The overwhelming majority stay away! You see, we twist the numbers and make them say what we want them to say by leaving out everything we don’t want to say.
And so the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable trotted out some numbers. Some impressive numbers. But take note of what they do not say; notice what they leave out.
“‘I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’”
Yes, Mr. Pharisee, you fast twice a week, but do you gorge yourself on extravagances the rest of the week? What about that? You didn’t give us the whole picture. Yes, Mr. Pharisee, you give a tenth of all your income. That’s good, that’s what the Law asks for. But where do you spend the other nine-tenths? On meaningless and wasteful nothings? Because it all belongs to God. It is all a gift of God. We lie with statistics if we only point to a part of the reality.
Friends, the Festival of Christ the King points to that day when, as the Bible says it, “God will put all things under His feet.” All things. Our problem is that we, like the Pharisee, are not ready for Christ to have all things. We are OK with God having a toehold in our lives, but we are not so OK with His having control of the whole thing. We are like someone I know who keeps her front room spotlessly clean, so that when you go to that house, you think, “What a homemaker! Must be a clean freak.” But if you go down the hall and peek into the other rooms, you see everything from dirty clothes and worn out shoes to the kitchen sink, including the dirty kitchen sink. We are OK with God entering the front room, but we are not so OK with His entering every room. God, however, does not want to be a front room visitor; He intends to be a resident, and wants access to it all. He intends to camp there. He wants not just a little, but the whole. Not just a fast, but all of our appetites. Not just the tithe, but time and talents and witness, the whole self. The Pharisee lied with statistics; he told only a part of the truth.
Back when I was doing campus ministry, I would participate in college Religious Emphasis Weeks. The idea was that for one week out of the year, religious leaders would come in and make their witness. Well, that’s better than nothing. But we invented a name for that. Instead of Religious Emphasis Week we started calling it “Nod to God Week”. Nod to God Week. Just a passing nod, hello there, God, glad you’re still around, during this week. But the rest of the year, God was ignored and pushed off to the attic.
A nod to God was the Pharisee’s approach. He fasted twice a week, and that’s fine; but a couple of hours of self-denial does not counter a lifestyle of self-indulgence. He gave a tenth of all his income, and that’s good, that’s just what fairness requires; but if the rest of his income is not spent with prayerful attention to God’s will, then what does it mean? Our God wants all there is of us; small fragments will not do. Some things cannot be done in half-measures. At an office where I worked, they hung a sign over the self-service coffee pot and the little tray where you were supposed to pay for your refreshments, “Honesty is like pregnancy; either you is or you ain’t.” No half measures. No fiddling with the numbers. All for Christ. All under His feet.
A good many of us need today to get down to the level where the tax collector went:
“But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ’God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’“
III
We have a choice. We can lie with statistics by selecting a vague and false comparison; we can pretend before God that we are better than others, but, remember, the standard is not others, but Christ.
We can lie with statistics by talking about what we do and trying to hide what we do not do; we can lift up our half-way measures, but, remember, Christ wants all of us, not just a fraction.
Or there’s another choice. We can choose to be about what God wants us to be about, and forget the numbers game altogether. We have the choice: we can lie with statistics and pretend we are doing fine, thank you, or we can see that what God calls us to is not about numbers and not about statistics, but it’s about people. We can discover that what gives victory to Christ is neither vast cathedrals nor swelling offering plates nor enormous congregations, but humble and contrite hearts, faithful to Him and devoted to His service. We have the choice today.
We have the choice of claiming victory for ourselves or of committing to victory for Christ. We have the choice of lying with statistics or of burning with a passion for lives.
I do not call you to faithfulness in this coming year in order to maintain the building. I do not call you to loyalty in order to pay the staff. I do not summon you to dig deeper in order to keep the lights on. None of those are priorities. None of that concerns me, in the last analysis.
But I do call us to a passion for people. I do call us to a passion for lives transformed. I do call us to find people who do not know Christ. I do call us to share the truths of God’s word with those, who, like the little group at the Rittenhouse, say that they don’t even begin to understand the Bible. It’s not about statistics, it’s about people.
I do call us to commit to young people who are making critical decisions. I do call us to care about children who need help to succeed in their education. I do summon us to serve broken people who live lives of quiet desperation, and for whom a loving word or a spiritual presence is critical. And I do urge us, more than I can begin to say, to work in this community and among its people, among those caught in crime or bound by drugs or torn by tensions.
And while I could talk with you at great length about all we have done, I think that might be lying with statistics. It’s time for a new thrust. It’s time for a vigorous new direction. It’s time to use our human power, our dollar power, our staff power, and our spiritual power to go to the people. I don’t want to wait any longer; I cannot wait any longer. I want to go beyond our walls and into the places where people hurt. I want you to go too. The Bible says we are to go into all the world and bring the Gospel to every creature. I am tired of doing church work! I am ready to \do the work of the church! The world is burning out there, and we cannot waste time trimming candles in here! Christ has come that they may have life and have it more abundantly, and that’s what it’s all about. That’s where His victory comes.
I am not going to urge every member and every friend to give ten per cent of your income to the church. That might prompt you to lie with statistics. Instead I am going to call you to open your heart to hurting and dying people and then do what your heart tells you to do.
I am not going to worry with what we spend on the building. I’m not going to be anxious about paying the staff. I am not going to get concerned about what other churches do or how big they are. If I started to do that, I might lie with statistics. Instead I am going straight to the bottom line: that God so loved the world that He gave, He gave His only Son ... so that whoever trusts in Him might have life, everlasting life. That’s really all that matters. There’s really only one statistic worth worrying about:
"Two men went up to the temple to pray. [Of the two, 50% said], ’God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, [one out of every two] went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all [100% of those] who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all [100% of those] who humble themselves will be exalted."
Only one statistic worth watching: “Now let all the kingdoms of this world become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ, and He shall reign forever and ever.”
