The early church understood the multi-faceted meaning of Hebrews 4:12, “The Word of God is…Sharper than a double-edged sword.” They grappled with two revolutionary technologies—roads and swords—that clearly illustrated God’s Word was not fooled by the flesh’s attempts to conceal sin.
Roads: Rome began building a road system around 300 BC. It eventually connected 113 provinces with more than 250,000 miles of roads. Of these, at least 50,000 miles were paved with an elaborate system of layered stones, rock, and cement. The engineers cambered the surface to drain rainwater and made them wide enough for two wagons to pass in opposite directions. They divided the roads into numbered miles, each marked with a two-ton, five-foot engraved stone column. Way stations every 12-19 miles offered food, overnight accommodations, and animal care. Many of their techniques were lost later during the Middle Ages, and the cement recipe has yet to be duplicated.
The thoroughfares revolutionized travel. They allowed the tight administration of a vast empire, enabled an imperial mail system, increased security, and greatly boosted trade. The early church recognized the opportunity and took advantage of the most advanced technical marvel of its day to dramatically accelerate the spread of the Gospel.
There was, however, a downside.
The same roads that allowed the Apostles to travel so quickly also enabled Rome to move its legions rapidly to whatever new area the emperor wanted to conquer. The Roman general Titus marched his 60,000 legionnaires and 16,000 support personnel along them to destroy Jerusalem in 70 AD. The same roads that brought Good News also carried death and destruction.
Swords: A Roman legionnaire’s primary weapon was the Gladius, famously known as the “Roman short sword.” The casual observer might see it as a large kitchen knife. But Rome leveraged its two fearsome advantages over its competitors to create an empire.
First, its short length—14 – 22 inches—allowed a legionnaire to move close, past his opponent’s innermost defenses, and still have room to thrust and chop. He could attack an enemy’s stomach and knees with impunity.
Second, its two sharp edges enabled a skilled soldier to cut in either direction. He neither had to turn the blade in his hand nor twist his wrist.
However, the Gladius’ advantage also brought a disadvantage.
It cut both ways. An unskilled warrior could wound himself as easily as his enemy. Proper use required training and discipline.
The actual fruit of those state-of-the-art technologies depended entirely upon who used them, how, and why.
We face a similar dilemma today.
Instead of Romans swinging swords to dismember opponents, we now wield devices with more computing power than all of NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) possessed when they sent astronauts to the Moon. Instead of Romans stringing hefty rocks into empire-spanning roads, we string computers together into the Internet, a web reaching every corner of our planet.
When I first went to the Amazon Jungle as a missionary pilot, the quickest correspondence turnaround with our US headquarters was 6 weeks. By the time I left, any morning emails left unanswered by afternoon rated a manager’s special attention.
Today, everyone can communicate with nearly everyone else. Most of mankind’s accumulated information is accessible to everyone. Everywhere. All the time. A surgeon deep in the Amazon gets life-saving information while the nurse preps an emergency patient. Mission agencies handle administrative and counseling issues with their field missionaries in minutes rather than months. The Bible is available to anyone in hundreds of languages. An African bush church pastor consults commentaries and references. Live and recorded worship services, conferences, messages, and music abound 24/7. The Internet is a tool that dramatically accelerates Gospel access.
But there are some downsides.
Word processing programs appear as mostly a large, blank space edged by a few pretty buttons. Spreadsheets present an array of blank spaces similarly adorned. Connecting to social media, bank accounts, or information sources all start with two or three innocuous blanks to fill in. But these simple-looking tools conceal a bewildering array of options. That’s okay; we’re literate adults. We can learn how to use new tools. How hard can it be?
Daunting, many say. Madding, others confess. They recount tales of clicking a single button on a plain page that exploded into a multiplying warren of obscure options. And then, adding insult to injury, not only did they fail to find what they wanted, but unwittingly unleashed a torrent of fraud, slavery, and anarchy.
“Flee the evil!” some cry. Maybe. But, should the early church fathers have left the road after a legion passed by? Would they have been more pure using the back trails instead? Should the aspiring legionnaire have ignored his sword drills?
History’s hindsight of the Gospel’s spread yields a clearer picture. And the Lord promises us wisdom if we ask. So, how do we confront today’s quandary? Should we avoid the screen or master the tool? It can, after all, cut both ways.