A Real Life Parable: Norman Baker, the Crescent Hotel & Matthew 16

October 12, 2023

Stephen and I went on a road-trip this September and visited Eureka Springs, AK. While there we toured the 1886 Crescent Hotel & Spa and heard the story of Norman G. Baker.

Norman Baker was born in 1882 and was part entrepreneur, part salesman and, well, part swindler. There’s a lot to his story but, as I understand it, he founded a hospital in Kansas that would treat cancer and other ailments, but eventually he was ousted as a fraud. Undeterred, and highly critical of the medical profession, he continued his exploitative methods and in 1937 bought the resort hotel that was the 1886 Crescent Hotel & Spa in Eureka Springs.


This luxury hotel served as an alluring backdrop and context in which to be treated for cancer. Come and experience 5 star accommodation! Experience exquisite dining, state of the art leisure activities (moving pictures!) and the famed healing springs of northern Arkansas.


The sales pitch was simple. The cancer treatment of the day was crude and the use of radium would leave people with deformities and severe burns. Unlike the physical damage from such medical treatments, Baker offered a winsome alternative: pain-free cancer treatment! Where the medical professionals might hurt you more than you heal—come to the Crescent Hotel and receive Baker’s pain-free tonic while at the spa. For the sum of $5,000 you could go on vacation and be treated for a terrible disease.


Could it get any better than that?


There was one major problem though, Baker was a fraud. The cure sounded wonderfully attractive. But his tonic did not do what he said it would do. It was a mix of random ingredients (watermelon seeds, cloves and other oddities). While Baker touted that he was in the business of life, in truth he was in the business of death.


If you got to the Crescent Hotel & Spa today you can go and see what was a very active and busy department of his hospital: the morgue.


In truth, patients left the hotel not through the front doors but through the basement after an autopsy. And it gets more gruesome still with Baker touting “proofs” of his success with the tumors he would cut out of their bodies and keep after they’d succumbed to their illness.


***


Seeing the hotel, the morgue and this particular story was like stepping into a real world (albeit extreme) example of Jesus’ words to his disciples in Matthew 16;24-26:


"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?"


It is so easy to be drawn in by things that appeal to our desire for creature comforts. A nice hotel, a fine restaurant. Grandeur. Beauty commoditized and sold. You want the world? We have it! Come buy it here! We all want an escape from the hard things in life. Pain is what it is: painful. Who wouldn’t want to say yes to a cure for the ills of life with something that that promises not to leave you bruised and battered?


It would be wonderful to be able to not hurt when bad things happen. Not weep when tragedy occurs. Not be angered at injustice. Not be disappointed when things hoped for do not come to pass. Not grieve when people we love die. Often we’re pretty good at pushing the harder feelings away, but they are never truly gone.


***


Norman Baker preyed on people’s desire for an easy way out. A short-cut. It seemed too good to be true because it was too good to be true.


Jesus is clear: if you want to save your life it means losing it. It means taking up your cross. It means facing your suffering. It means grieving. It means having your heart turned from stone back into a heart of flesh, one that aches and longs for more of the goodness of God.


One way leads to life. The other leads to the morgue.


There’s no pain-free way to deal with our spiritual sickness. Yes forgiveness is a free gift, but the work of living into it and becoming like Christ means facing the reality of our lives. If we think we're doing just great, perhaps we’re just at the spiritual equivalent of the 1886 Crescent Hotel & Spa. Facing our spiritual condition is not a matter of making sure we receive the bread and wine every week as though downing a tonic that will fix us. 1 Corinthians 11 says the opposite and warns of the danger of receiving without paying attention to our own lives: “Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup” (v.26).


***


I remember once doing some spiritual work that involved reflecting on my own character flaws. I thought I knew what mine were and that although it would be uncomfortable, I was pretty self-aware so I there wouldn't be any major surprises. But, as I began to read a little book on the topic, my eyes were opened. The blindness started to fall away. It was painful. It was eye-opening. It showed me some of the hard graft I needed to do, to acknowledge, own and ask for God’s help with these things. It involved some tears of confession as I shared with trusted friends the truth of my motives and intentions in some of my actions. By God's grace much has changed, but with God's grace much more change is to come as well.


It is not easy to clean up our side of the street. It takes persistent, consistent effort and willingness. It takes a willingness to trust God loves us more than we have loved ourselves or those around us. It takes a willingness to surrender our ways over for His. It takes a willingness to lay down our lives.


But in return?


In return we know the new life and love and new creation made possible through the resurrection of Jesus. We die, so He can live—and by it we really do come to know life in all its abundance.


******


By Suse McBay March 17, 2026
Are you 100% sure about that? Last December, Stephen and I headed for Prague for a few days. We were looking forward to Christmas markets, mulled wine, and shopping. Because we had booked a really early flight, we decided to stay in an airport hotel the night before. We hadn’t banked on one thing though: how to get from the bus station at Heathrow to the hotel. We could see our destination towering ahead of us as we exited the coach, but there was no reliable way to get there on foot. Much like Houston, navigating the surface roads of Heathrow is much easier for those in a car. So, we asked for directions from one of the airport staff. She pointed us over to two elevators, sat right next to each other. One had a line of at least twenty people. The other one had none. Those at the front of the queue hadn’t even pressed the button. That seemed strange and indicated that perhaps the people in line didn’t know what they were doing—or weren’t used to London airports. But why was one line so long and the other non-existent? The signs above weren’t exactly clear, but here were two lifts side-by-side, surely they went to the same place? Towards the back of the line was a middle-aged man, surrounded by luggage and family, who realised what we were trying to puzzle out. “Nah, you can’t use it. The other lift doesn’t go down. Doesn’t go to the same place,” he told us. We looked at him quizzically. “Are you sure?” we asked. “ One hundred percent , mate. One hundred percent.” The certainty with which he declared his answer was persuasive. He crowed like he was the CEO of the airport. That lift would not go where the other one was going. He repeated himself again. 100%. Only, he was wrong. We risked looking like fools. We walked to the vacant elevator, hit the button, and—lo and behold!—an elevator appeared that went to the exact same location as the other. The middle-aged man surrounded by luggage was 100%... in the wrong. Utterly and completely. *** Words, words, words, but no wisdom I don’t personally know the man who so-confidently revealed his wrongness. I’ve no idea whether his bluster was out of character from his usual self. But in the moment of our encounter, he acted every bit the ‘fool’ we find in Book of Proverbs: "A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing personal opinion." (Proverbs 18:2) There is much wisdom in Proverbs 17:28: Even fools who keep silent are considered wise; when they close their lips, they are deemed intelligent. It seems to me that we live in a world saturated with words, whether written or spoken. There’s an ever-growing number of websites, social media platforms, podcasts, and so on. Even more so now with AI. Yet for all this verbal abundance, there does not seem to be any more wisdom than there used to be. I would argue with AI, there seems to be less (or perhaps it’s simply exposing our foolishness). Part of me wonders about the virtue of writing a blog, when these are so often half-thoughts, explorations, and ideas: am I just adding to the plethora of opinions that exist on the blogosphere? Last year, I was teaching on how to plan and lead funerals with our final year ordinands. I spoke with confidence about what works and what doesn’t. What the role of the cleric is, how to work with the grieving family, how to craft the sermon, what to do afterwards etc. It felt good to be able to give real, lived experience having worked in a church for a decade. But it was only during the Q&A when I realized something. I realized my confidence was borne of a very specific context: I ministered in a large, Episcopal church in Houston, Texas. Not a small parish church, somewhere remote in England. Did the wisdom and experience I bring still have value in the Church of England, where the Church is an established one? Where those who minister do among many people who don’t dare to cross the threshold of a religious building except in such moments of life and death? Now I happen to think it does; but only with some qualification. For what I realized in that moment is that it’s not quite as readily transferable as I’d assumed. Church cultures are different. Expectations are different. How people respond and react to their local vicar is different! What works in one scenario doesn’t necessarily work in another. Consider Proverbs 26:4-5: 4 Do not answer fools according to their folly, or you will be a fool yourself. 5 Answer fools according to their folly, or they will be wise in their own eyes. Proverbs 26 has a seeming contradiction that speaks to the importance of context. In the situation where you’re faced with someone spouting foolishness, what should you do? Speak or not speak? Engage or not engage? The modern equivalent to v.4 might be to say to yourself “not my monkeys, not my circus” and walk away. But what about the times when it is your circus? When they are your monkeys? What about when to walk away is to leave someone blind to their mistakes and doomed to make more? What if responding might feasibly help someone see beyond their own blinkers and make a different choice? Sometimes v.4 might be the path of wisdom. Other times it’s v.5. But it’s not always apparent which is which. Overconfidence is not just dangerous for making us look like fools or giving bad advice. If we stay in our certitude, we miss the heart of the issue revealed in these two verses: we need wisdom. So where do we find it? *** Does ‘wisdom come with age’? I’ve heard it said that ‘wisdom comes with age’. Ironically enough, this line was used when I was in something of a disagreement with someone much older than me. But claiming moral high ground or superior understanding on the basis of some unalterable characteristic that you have but I don’t, is more indicative of pride than wisdom. If age does come with wisdom, there would be no conflict or disagreement within the human species as we age. If age is the sole arbiter, we should collectively do better as the wrinkles and grey hairs multiply. Yet that’s not what happens. Wisdom, sadly, is not inevitable. It can come with age because of one very simple reality: the more time you’ve had on the planet means you’ve had more opportunity to become wise. Now whether or not you’ve taken those opportunities is quite a different thing! *** Wisdom: a gift that needs seeking Proverbs has an interestingly balanced view of wisdom. It is (1) something that requires active seeking, yet also (2) something which only God can give. Proverbs 2:1-4 talks about the need to exert effort in acquisition of wisdom. It’s not something that just lands on our laps: it asks you to be open to learning and sitting with what you receive (v.1), deliberate and intentional in putting your body in a space to grow in it (v.2), and vocal in your search for it (v.3). In other words: humble, open, and hungry. This passage concludes by likening it to searching for silver or hidden treasure (v.4). Think about that for a moment: do you search for wisdom in the same way you seek out growth in income or asset? From a human wisdom point of view, seeking financial gain for our security and future as we age (and our children grow and go off to college etc) makes good sense. But what if we were to seek wisdom with the very same fervour? What if wisdom had the same significance for our spiritual security and future? What if it is important to our growth in the Christian life and readiness for what may come our way? It’s a gift that needs seeking. But Proverbs tells us it is also a gift that is given. Verse 6 reveals “ the LORD gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding .” Our seeking is not the whole picture. Longing for wisdom does not mean we get it. Wisdom is God’s domain not ours. Proverbs 8 illustrates that God’s Wisdom is not something to acquire or harvest. It is not a commodity to be doled out. It is not a consumer good. Wisdom was present when God made the world. Wisdom is a part of God’s self that chooses when to be imparted and when not to be (compare 1:28; 8:17; 9:5, 16) The very fabric of our material world is infused with the mystery of Wisdom. Insight and understanding comes from God and helps us to navigate the complexity of our lives, but this gift is just a glimpse of a much greater reality of the divine Wisdom which exists eternally. This, perhaps, brings us back to where I started. True wisdom is never found in loud proclamations of “one hundred percent!”. Why? Because the one who is wise recognises they have a lot to learn. They know that new information can shift and reframe yesterday’s certainty. Maybe the first step is to stop claiming absolute certainty—to stop the all-or-nothing thinking. Maybe we start with recognising what Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 13: we only see in part, know in part, understand in part. And from there, we begin actively seeking that gift which only God—from His Wisdom—can give. Wisdom has built her house, she has hewn her seven pillars. 2 She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine, she has also set her table. 3 She has sent out her servant-girls, she calls from the highest places in the town, 4 "You that are simple, turn in here!" To those without sense she says, 5 "Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. 6 Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight." Proverbs 9:1-6 ****** Photo © Copyright Derek Harper and licensed for reuse under a cc-by-sa/2.0 Creative Commons Licence.
By Suse McBay February 13, 2026
What do we do on days when God seems entirely absent? Some thoughts about where I see that in my life today and, looking back, recognising how much has changed.

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