Creativity in the Kingdom

By / Nov 6

Gordon MacKenzie spent thirty years at Hallmark Cards, and along the way he often visited elementary schools and asked the kids a simple question: How many artists are in the room? [1] In first grade, every hand shot up. With each grade, fewer hands went up. By sixth grade, only one or two kids raised a hand, slowly, glancing around to see if anyone would laugh. Nothing about those kids’ capacity changed between first grade and sixth. What changed is whether they’d raise their hands.

Most of us have been sitting in that sixth-grade classroom for a long time. We even have a phrase for it: “I’m not the creative type.” But for a human being, that’s a little like saying, “I’m not the breathing type.”

It’s fitting that MacKenzie’s question was answered with hands. Hands are where imagination takes shape: they’re how we draw, build, cook, and fix. Scripture even speaks of God’s own creative work this way: David called the night sky “the work of Your fingers” (Ps. 8:3). So, let’s follow those sixth graders’ hands: where they came from, why they came down, and how they can rise again.

Made by a Creator

The first thing the Bible tells us about God is that He creates: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen. 1:1). He didn’t gather materials that already existed and rearrange them. He spoke, and what wasn’t, was (Heb. 11:3). The crown of that work is humanity, created “in His own image” (Gen. 1:27).

The image of God is richer than any one trait, but creativity is surely one of the ways it shows. Dorothy Sayers noticed that by Genesis 1:27, the only thing we’ve been told about God is that He creates. So, she reasoned, what we share with Him is “the desire and the ability to make things.”[2] George MacDonald drew a careful line here. He reserved the word creation for God’s calling things out of nothing, yet he insisted that “the imagination of man is made in the image of the imagination of God.”[3] We can’t create from scratch. We make from what He’s already created. But we exercise creativity and make things because our God is both Creator and creative.

And our making starts before our hands ever move. First, we imagine what could be. Then we give that idea a form. Scripture shows both steps early. God formed the animals and brought them to Adam “to see what he would call them” (Gen. 2:19). God supplied the creatures; Adam supplied the names. Later, when God told Israel to build the tabernacle, the first person Scripture describes as filled with the Spirit of God wasn’t a prophet or a priest. It was Bezalel, a craftsman given “ability and intelligence … to devise artistic designs” (Exod. 31:3–4).[4] From this passage, John Calvin was convinced that “no one excels even in the most despised and humble handicraft, except in so far as God’s Spirit works in him.”[5]

That same image still shows up everywhere. Sometimes our hands are literally at work: a mechanic rigging a fix nobody taught him, or a grandmother piecing a quilt from old shirts. Sometimes the work happens in words and ideas: a mom inventing a bedtime story on the spot, or a Sunday school teacher finding a new way to explain the lesson to fourth graders. Different forms. Same creative image.

Why Our Hands Come Down

So why do so many of us lower our hands? Part of the answer is old. A teacher graded the drawing instead of delighting in it. Or we compared ourselves to the most gifted person in the room and quietly decided we were out. In Jesus’ parable, the servant who buried what his master entrusted to him explained himself in one line: “I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground” (Matt. 25:25). Fear still works that way. We’re afraid of looking foolish or falling short, so we put our creativity away before anyone can enjoy it.

But our moment adds pressures earlier generations didn’t face, and to see them clearly, we need a distinction. Capacity and ability aren’t the same thing. Our capacity as image bearers is set by God, and nothing in our culture can shrink it. Our ability, our practiced skill at observing, imagining, and making, absolutely can. Think about a piano that has sat untouched for twenty years. Every string is still there, but the person who took lessons as a kid can only plunk out the first line of a hymn. The capacity is in the room. The ability has faded.

We live in an age that’s overstimulated and desensitized at the same time, so quiet beauty barely registers. Now we can generate an image, an essay, or a song in seconds, and the internet is filling up with AI slop: content with no maker behind it and no process inside it. But the problem doesn’t seem to primarily be the tools. Bezalel used tools to cut stone and carve wood (Exod. 31:5). The problem is what we give up for speed. Creativity grows through slow, attentive work: drafting, failing, and trying again. A shortcut that skips the process also skips the place where creativity is formed.

Psalm 115 describes idols that have “eyes, but do not see” and “hands, but do not feel,” and then warns, “Those who make them become like them” (Ps. 115:5, 7–8). G. K. Beale summed up the principle this way: “What people revere, they resemble, either for ruin or restoration.”[6] If we spend our days staring at what’s shallow, fast, and imitative, our creativity will start to look the same.

Eyes Up Before Hands Up

But Beale’s principle also works in the other direction. If beholding what’s empty can ruin us, beholding the Lord can restore us. That’s how Paul describes sanctification: “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:18). We don’t become holy by staring at our sin and trying harder. And a passing glance at Jesus isn’t enough either. The Spirit transforms us as we gaze at Him, like David, whose “one thing” was “to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD” (Ps. 27:4). And the new self “is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its Creator” (Col. 3:10).

So it shouldn’t surprise us that our creativity is renewed the same way. It recovers as our eyes are lifted to Him. After years of chasing lesser beauties, Augustine confessed, “Late have I loved You, beauty so old and so new.”[7]

That means our best creative work doesn’t start at the whiteboard. It starts in worship, in the Word, and in slowing down long enough to observe what God has created. Jesus told us to “consider the lilies of the field, how they grow” (Matt. 6:28). That’s not a glance; it’s a long look. The person who’s been considering lilies has something to say about beauty. The person who’s been scrolling for several hours mostly has anxiety to process.

Johann Sebastian Bach understood this. He often wrote “J.J.” at the top of a blank score, Jesu juva, “Jesus, help.” At the end he wrote “S.D.G.,” Soli Deo gloria, “to God alone be the glory.”[8] Before his hand touched the page, his eyes went up to Jesus.

The Carpenter’s Hands

If we want to see what human creativity was meant to be, we look at Jesus. He doesn’t merely bear God’s image; He is “the image of the invisible God” (Col. 1:15). The One through whom “all things were made” (John 1:3) took on flesh and worked as a carpenter (Mark 6:3). He reached for seeds, coins, yeast, and lost sheep, and “He said nothing to them without a parable” (Matt. 13:34). His hands were pierced and His body laid in a tomb. And though He “increased in wisdom and in stature” (Luke 2:52), sin never dulled His creativity. In Him, human ability fully matched human capacity.

And God has kept equipping His people with skill to serve His church. Around AD 715, on an island off England’s northeast coast, a monk, most likely Bishop Eadfrith, spent years copying and painting the Gospels by hand. He mixed his own pigments and filled calfskin pages with intricate patterns.[9] Like Bezalel’s work on the tabernacle, Eadfrith’s artistry didn’t compete with God’s Word. It served it, inviting readers to slow down and linger over the story of Jesus.

Putting Our Creativity Back to Work

So what does it look like for our creativity to rise again? It starts with grace, not talent. Because Christ has already done the work that saves us, our creativity doesn’t have to prove anything. That frees us for three steps.

  • Pick it up. Most of us set something down along the way: a sketchbook, a guitar, a garden. But the God who gave us that capacity hasn’t taken it back. Picking it up again may be as simple as giving it an hour on a Saturday. “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might” (Eccl. 9:10).
  • Practice it. A neglected piano doesn’t come back in tune by wishing. Creative ability returns slowly, through ordinary faithfulness, much like holiness does. “Do you see a man skillful in his work? He will stand before kings” (Prov. 22:29).
  • Pass it on. God didn’t only fill Bezalel and Oholiab with skill; He also inspired them “to teach” (Exod. 35:34). Peter tells us to use whatever gift we’ve received “to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace” (1 Pet. 4:10). That might mean lettering a verse for a grieving friend, teaching a teenager to cook, or designing the banner for VBS. Creativity offered to serve the body and point to Christ isn’t decoration; it’s Kingdom work.

Every Hand in the Room

God created us in His image, and we marred it. Sin didn’t erase our creativity, but it broke it. Our hands started making idols instead of offerings and building towers to “make a name for ourselves” (Gen. 11:4). But God didn’t abandon His work. He sent His Son. The hands that shaped wood in Nazareth were nailed to wood outside Jerusalem, and He died the death we deserved. Three days later He walked out of the grave, the scars still in His hands (John 20:27). Everyone who turns from sin and trusts in Him is made new: “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation” (2 Cor. 5:17). And God is still at work in us: “we are the clay, and You are our potter; we are all the work of Your hand” (Isa. 64:8).

So imagine someone walked into our church this Sunday and asked, “How many artists are in the room?” The honest answer is every hand. Not because we’re all gifted the same way, but because we’re all the created type, and that’s exactly what makes us the creative type. The One whose hands formed us isn’t finished: “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil. 1:6).

[1] Gordon MacKenzie, Orbiting the Giant Hairball: A Corporate Fool’s Guide to Surviving with Grace (New York: Viking, 1998), 19–20.

[2] Dorothy L. Sayers, The Mind of the Maker (London: Methuen, 1941), chap. 2, “The Image of God.”

[3] George MacDonald, “The Imagination: Its Functions and Its Culture” (1867), in A Dish of Orts (London: Sampson Low, Marston & Co., 1893).

[4] The Hebrew word the ESV renders “ability” in Exod. 31:3 is ḥokmâ, the ordinary Old Testament word for wisdom, which is why the KJV and NASB read “wisdom” there. The same word describes the craftsmen’s skill in Exod. 28:3 and 35:31, 35. Scripture treats Bezalel’s artistry as Spirit-given wisdom.

[5] John Calvin, Commentaries on the Four Last Books of Moses Arranged in the Form of a Harmony, trans. Charles William Bingham, vol. 3 (Edinburgh: Calvin Translation Society, 1854), on Exod. 31:2.

[6] G. K. Beale, We Become What We Worship: A Biblical Theology of Idolatry (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2008), 16.

[7] Augustine, Confessions 10.27.38, trans. Henry Chadwick (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991).

[8] Patrick Kavanaugh, The Spiritual Lives of Great Composers (Nashville: Sparrow Press, 1992), 13.

[9] Michelle P. Brown, The Lindisfarne Gospels and the Early Medieval World (London: British Library, 2011).



How do you approach teaching and discipling students in online courses?

By / Nov 6


When Gossip Sets the Church on Fire

By / Nov 5

Words have the potential to build others up and tear others down, to do a lot of good and a lot of harm. James was well aware of the power of words in the Christian life. In his letter, recognizing that words are a powerful tool, he addresses teachers, who have a responsibility to pay closer attention to their use of words (Jas. 3:1). He then connects one’s self-control of their words to a person’s spiritual maturity (3:2). While James uses a variety of examples to illustrate the power of words, one of the most noticeable examples is the power of a small fire to light up a whole forest. James writes, “Consider how a small fire sets ablaze a large forest. And the tongue is a fire. The tongue, a world of unrighteousness, is placed among our members. It stains the whole body, sets the course of life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell” (3:5a–6).  

What comes to mind when reading this passage is the destructive power of gossip to divide the body of Christ. Pastor and author Jared Wilson defines gossip as “saying anything about someone that you wouldn’t say to them.”1 Like a small fire can set a forest ablaze, a small rumor can set the whole church body against its own members. 

The Devil’s Joy 

The Devil is very subtle in his temptations, like a lion quietly scouting out its prey (1 Pet. 5:8). He likes to twist the truth and tempt you to join him because he has come for one reason only: “to steal and kill and destroy” (John 10:10a). He is the father of lies (John 8:44). When it comes to gossip and the body of Christ, if the Devil cannot prevent someone from being saved by the gospel, he will cause division among the saved. Like the joy of a nation witnessing an enemy army’s soldiers attacking themselves, the Devil does not have an issue when the soldiers of the Lord’s army attack one another with words. As lies spread, truths get twisted, and rumors start, the body of Christ is being more divided than united. The Devil rejoices when God’s children sabotage one another.  

Putting Out the Fire 

The good news is that you and I do not have to be gossipers or fire-spreaders. If you are around gossip and the fire reaches you, you do not have to keep spreading it. You can be part of God’s plan to put it out, confront the fire-spreader, or at least not participate in the spreading. Circumstances demand different responses, and there are many possible scenarios when it comes to gossip and wisely responding to it. However, at the very least, you must recognize your responsibility in the matter. We will be judged for everything we do in our bodies, including what we say. (Jas. 2:12; 2 Cor. 5:10). The question is: What are you doing with what you can control? How are you controlling your words, even if you can’t control someone else’s words?  

Two ways to counter fire spreading is to speak words of truth in love (Eph. 4:15) and words of encouragement (4:29). 

1. Speak Words of Truth in Love 

Ephesians 4:15 says, “But speaking the truth in love, let us grow in every way into him who is the head—Christ” (emphasis added). There are some truths that must be spoken, even if it is hard to say or hear. Personally, I struggle to be confrontational, but that does not excuse me from needing to practice speaking up when I need to. I need to be better about speaking the truth in love and confronting someone about their sin when it presents itself. If you are around gossip and you have the opportunity to confront the gossiper about their poor use of words, speak the truth in love to them: in a loving way, let them know that you sense their negativity or ill-intent, and then challenge them to stop gossiping. Encourage them to address the gossip in a manner that pleases God, which may include replacing harsh words with uplifting ones, confronting the instigator one-on-one, or finding out the truth for oneself from the original sources. 

2. Speak Words of Encouragement 

Ephesians 4:29 says, “No foul language should come from your mouth, but only what is good for building up someone in need, so that it gives grace to those who hear” (emphasis added). What positive things can you add to a conversation? What good things can you point out in other people’s lives that will encourage them rather than discourage them? Use your words to build others up, especially your brothers and sisters in Christ, rather than tear them down. 

Who is someone you can encourage today? Who is someone you can apologize to because you have been bad with your words around them, or you have spread negativity about them? Who is someone you may need to speak the truth in love to, as a brother and sister in Christ? Words have the power to build up or tear down—to do a lot of good or a lot of harm. Which side are you on? Do not be a fire-spreader. Be an encouragement to the church, not a gossiper. 



The Biblical Model of Christian Leadership

By / Nov 3

There are moments in life when God uses an ordinary experience to reveal an extraordinary truth. Sometimes the Holy Spirit opens our eyes to something we have seen many times before but never fully understood.

For many years I have observed the growth of the church with great joy. Across cities, towns, and villages, new congregations have been planted and ministries have expanded. Yet concern should arise when the pursuit of leadership becomes more important than the purpose of leadership.

Instead of asking, “How can I faithfully serve God’s people?” many have begun asking, “What position can I hold?” Instead of seeking God’s calling through prayer, some seek recognition through appointments, elections, and influence. Leadership, which should reflect humility and sacrifice, can become a competition for visibility and authority.

Sadly, this spirit has not been confined to one denomination, one congregation, or one nation. It is a temptation that can confront any church whenever personal ambition overshadows the mission of Christ.

One particular Sunday brought this reality into sharp focus for me.

Leadership Over Service?

I was visiting a local church for worship. Like many first-time visitors, I expected a morning filled with prayer, praise, the reading of God’s Word, and fellowship with believers. As the service progressed, however, an announcement was made that immediately captured my attention.

The congregation was informed that the coming week would be dedicated to leadership elections.

The church program was adjusted to allow aspiring leaders to address the congregation. One after another, candidates came to the pulpit and were given several minutes to present themselves. They spoke about their qualifications, outlined their plans, and explained why they believed they should be elected. Members listened carefully, applauded, and prepared to cast their votes in the days ahead.

As I sat there observing the proceedings, I could not help but reflect on what I was witnessing.

There is nothing inherently wrong with churches establishing orderly processes for selecting leaders. Scripture teaches that all things should be done decently and in order (1 Cor. 14:40). Churches often require practical systems to organize their ministries and ensure accountability.

Yet my heart was troubled by deeper questions: When did ministry begin to resemble a political campaign? When did the desire to serve become overshadowed by the desire to lead? When did titles become more attractive than faithfulness? These questions remained with me long after the service had ended.

As I reflected upon them in prayer, I realized that the greatest danger facing the church is not merely the existence of leadership structures. Rather, it is the condition of the human heart. Long before positions are sought publicly, ambition often grows privately. It begins when recognition becomes more important than obedience, when influence becomes more valuable than character, and when visibility becomes more desirable than faithfulness.

This struggle is not new.

Even the disciples of Jesus wrestled with ambition. On one occasion, they argued among themselves about who was the greatest (Mark 9:33–37). On another, two brothers sought places of honor beside Christ in His Kingdom (Mark 10:35–45). Their desire for prominence reflected the world’s understanding of greatness.

Jesus responded by completely redefining leadership.

Leadership Means Stooping Lower

Jesus taught that greatness in God’s Kingdom is measured not by authority over people but by service to people. The rulers of this world exercise power to elevate themselves, but His followers were to demonstrate an entirely different spirit. Whoever desired to become great must first become a servant. Whoever wished to lead must first be willing to serve (Mark 10:42–45).

Then Jesus did something even more remarkable: He lived what He taught.

The One through whom all things were created knelt before His own disciples and washed their feet. The Master performed the work of the lowest servant in the household. In that simple-yet-profound act, He forever established the pattern for Christian leadership (John 13:1–17).

Leadership in God’s Kingdom is not about climbing higher; it is about stooping lower.

The closer we walk with Christ, the more willing we become to serve others without seeking applause. The more we understand His grace, we become less concerned with recognition and more concerned with faithfulness.

This truth is beautifully illustrated again in Acts 6.

The early church was experiencing extraordinary growth. Thousands were coming to faith, new believers were being added daily, and the apostles found themselves carrying enormous responsibilities (Acts 2:41, 47). Alongside this rapid expansion came practical challenges, including complaints that certain widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food (Acts 6:1).

The apostles faced a critical decision. They could attempt to meet every need personally, or they could organize the ministry according to God’s wisdom.

Under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, they chose faithful men who were known for their godly character, wisdom, and spiritual maturity to oversee this important ministry (Acts 6:3). In doing so, they affirmed a timeless principle: every assignment in the Kingdom of God matters, but not every believer has the same assignment.

The apostles remained devoted to prayer and the ministry of the Word, while others faithfully served in practical ministry (Acts 6:2–4). Neither responsibility was superior to the other. Together they strengthened the church and enabled the gospel to continue spreading with power (Acts 6:7).

This example challenges many assumptions that exist within the modern church.

Some ministries are highly visible, while others remain largely unnoticed. Yet heaven does not measure importance by visibility. God looks at faithfulness: an usher greeting people at the church entrance. A deacon caring for widows. A Sunday School teacher patiently explaining Scripture to children. An intercessor praying in secret. A worship leader preparing their heart before leading a song. A cleaner ensuring the sanctuary is ready for worship.

Each one serves the same Lord. Each contributes to the health of Christ’s body. Each ministry, when offered in love and obedience, becomes an act of worship.

The church desperately needs leaders, but it needs leaders who first know how to serve. It needs pastors who shepherd with compassion, elders who lead with humility, deacons who serve with integrity, worship leaders who minister from surrendered hearts, and believers who understand that no act of faithful service is ever insignificant in the eyes of God.

Congregations have been planted, ministries have expanded, and countless people have come to know Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour. The Gospel continues to transform lives, and for this we give God all the glory.



Don’t Bury What Belongs to the King

By / Oct 30

Editor’s Note: This article is part of Spurgeon College Month, a celebration of the mission of Spurgeon College to equip students to live faithfully for the Kingdom. Learn more about Spurgeon College Month and participate in various giveaways here.

A Gatekeeper and His Key

When the king left the city, he gave the gatekeeper a new key.

“Winter is coming,” the king told him. “Keep the gate. There must be shelter here for those caught on the road.”

The gatekeeper bowed and gave his word. His father had kept that gate, and his father before him. Neither had ever lost a key.

On the first cold evening, a woman arrived with two children. As the gatekeeper lifted the bar to admit them, the key slipped from his hand and struck the stones. One of the children stumbled forward and stepped on it before he could snatch it up. When the gatekeeper retrieved the key, he saw that one of its teeth had bent. After seeing the family inside, he spent an hour straightening it and tried it in the lock three times before going to bed to ensure it still worked properly.

The next evening, a merchant arrived after sunset. The gatekeeper raised his lantern, but the man’s face remained in shadow. Suspicious of his true motives, the gatekeeper turned him away.

“Come back in the morning!” he called. By morning, the merchant had gone and was nowhere to be seen.

As the days shortened, the gatekeeper began closing earlier. He questioned travelers through the door. Those whose answers troubled him, he sent elsewhere. Sometimes he heard them arguing outside, but eventually they always left.

Soon, snow settled against the walls. Travelers knocked with gloved hands, then with stones when their hands grew numb. The gatekeeper watched from his room above the entrance. He couldn’t open the gate for everyone, after all. Each use wore the key, and each stranger might be a thief! The king had entrusted him with his key and the safety of the city.

Thinking of the king, the gatekeeper wrapped the key in a cloth and polished it each evening.

When the king returned again in the spring, the gatekeeper hurried down to meet him. He had polished the key that morning, anticipating the king’s arrival.

“Not a scratch,” the gatekeeper said with satisfaction as he placed the key in the king’s hand.

Yet the king didn’t look at the key.

“On the way here, I passed a woman burying her husband and child. She said she had reached these walls,” the king said.

The gatekeeper lowered his eyes.

“There were thieves abroad, your Majesty. I could not be certain whom to admit.”

“Were you certain he was a thief?”

“No.”

“Then why was he left outside?”

The gatekeeper had answered this question many times through the winter, though no one had asked it.

“I know how strictly you judge a man who fails his duty. I was afraid of what you would say if I damaged what you gave me.”

The king held out the key for the gatekeeper to see.

“What did you think I gave you?”

“A key, your Majesty.”

“I gave you a gate.”

Such is the danger Christians face when laboring in the Kingdom of God.

It is not hard to be safe. It is not hard to take a class without revealing how little you know or to keep people out of your home so that they don’t know how you live. It’s even easier to never take a big step because what you know today feels safer than what tomorrow might require.

You do not have to refuse the King outright to be like the gatekeeper; you can simply keep finding reasons why obedience must wait.

There is always a way to stay safe, but “safe” can indeed have a cost. You can count what you have kept, but it is harder to count the people left unserved and the good left undone. The gatekeeper could show the king his key. He could not show him a winter’s worth of closed doors.

So it is that, for the Christian, when protecting what God has given us becomes an excuse not to use it, we withhold good from the people our gifts could serve.

What We Bury

In Matthew 25:14–30, Jesus tells of a man who entrusts his property to three servants before leaving on a journey. One receives five talents, another two, and another one, each according to his ability. The first two put what they receive to work. The third digs a hole and hides his master’s money.

This final servant did not use the talent for improper means, lose it, or gamble it away; when his master returned, he was able to conjure it up in precisely the same state as when the master had left (vv. 24–25).

However, as is clear with the first two (vv. 16–23), the third servant misunderstood the assignment and did the same as the gatekeeper. If the assignment were to simply not lose the talent, he would have done well. Yet his error lies in the fact that he treated the talent as a liability to manage rather than a responsibility to fulfill, and his master’s return shows the difference in this posture.

Jesus is not baptizing every ambition and desire that you can tack Christian language onto and calling you to pursue it, but He is forcing the question of stewardship upon us. Are you using what you have been given for Christ and His Kingdom, or has protecting it become an excuse to avoid the obedience He requires?

Every Christian has been given something from the Lord, and we must ask what we are doing to steward those opportunities and giftings.

Your education, income, abilities, relationships, and remaining years are not merely things to keep from losing. They belong to a life over which Christ has laid claim. This includes both that which you use and exercise capably and that which you are still learning how to use.

Perhaps you could teach, but you would rather wait until you can do it without stumbling. Perhaps you could help a younger believer read the Bible, but you are painfully aware of how many questions you cannot answer. Perhaps you desire to share the gospel with a coworker or fellow student, but you are worried what it might do to your spot among your peers.

The limitations are not imaginary, but neither is the possibility that someone could be served through your imperfect obedience now.

Why We Bury It

So why do we often shrink back from both the ways that God has uniquely gifted us and the ways in which He might grow us?

When the third servant explains himself, he begins with his understanding of the master: “Master, I knew you to be a hard man …, so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground” (Matt. 25:24–25).

Before there was a hole in the ground, there was a judgment about the master. The servant’s conduct followed what he believed to be true of the one he served.

The reality for many of us is that we may know how to describe God’s character correctly while making decisions as though something quite different was true of Him. We confess His goodness, but imagine Him waiting for an opportunity to expose our inadequacy. We affirm His wisdom, but struggle to obey unless we can first see how everything will work out.

Under such conditions and beliefs, doing nothing can begin to feel like the most responsible option and wielding the shovel to the detriment of others makes sense. After all, keeping your cards close to your chest can seem to spare you the embarrassment of trying and failing.

But what exactly are we protecting? Sometimes, the thing we are most concerned with is our own reputation and comfort rather than God’s “property.”

There are good reasons to wait. We simply must make sure that we are not attempting to serve Christ while remaining unwilling to depend on Him.

What We Believe About the King

The servant calls that master “hard.” Yet consider what the first two servants receive. Both hear the same commendation: “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And both are invited into their master’s joy (25:21, 23).

It is worth noting that these two servants are not numerically equal in terms of return. One gained five talents and the other two—yet the second is not rebuked for returning less but is commended in the same way.

The third servant is thus both right and wrong. He is right that the master deserves weighty consideration and will call His servants to account. But he failed to recognize that He is also the Lord who invites His servants into His joy.

This matters desperately for those of us who hesitate because we are aware of what someone else could do with our opportunity or giftings. Christ has not asked you to account for the gifts He gave another person! You are responsible for what He has entrusted to you. Yet this responsibility is not a demand to earn His love through usefulness. We develop and offer our gifts because we belong to Him, not to persuade Him to receive us.

The gatekeeper kept the key safe, but the people outside needed him to use it. Who might be served by what you are still hesitant to offer? You do not need certainty about everything that will happen when you obey. You need to trust the King who gave you the gate, knowing that it is into His joy that He invites you.



The Long Way Home: Walking with Others in Pain and Suffering

By / Oct 29

“I’m so sorry. You are going to miscarry.” The words hung in the air. It took nearly two years to see those pink lines again. In that moment, fear flashed through my mind: Would I ever see them again? As those lines began to fade, my eyes welled up, and I began to process the pain. In the days that followed, I began to see that suffering reveals not only our need for God but also our need for one another.

While the full picture may not be clear until we meet the Creator, seasons of pain reveal a simple reality: some people bear the weight of others’ suffering well, while others, often without intending to, do not. From that perspective, a few grounded observations may help us understand those who are hurting and avoid responding in ways that unintentionally deepen their pain when it matters most.

Encountering Jesus

Pain is often the place where our awareness of need becomes clearest. Without brokenness, the depth of hope offered in Christ can be easy to overlook. Yet we often move past pain too quickly, seeking resolution before it has been fully acknowledged.

When suffering is rushed or skipped over, something important can be missed: The place where we encounter Christ. He does not always immediately remove the burden of pain, nor attempts to shorten that process. However, we, often motivated by love, can unintentionally interrupt what He is forming within it.

The impulse to remove pain, especially when it is uncomfortable to witness, does not always serve the person who is hurting. Sometimes what feels like help in the moment can limit the opportunity for deeper healing and a deeper experience of Christ in the midst of suffering.

Hope and Healing Coexist

We want to say helpful things, and we should. But offering hope does not require us to ignore pain. Hope and healing can coexist. When we rush someone toward a hopeful future without allowing them to process what has happened, it is like watching someone crash their bike and immediately telling them to get up, get back on, and ride the same way they did before. Healing takes time, even if you have hope. There is hope that they will ride that bike again one day, but right now, they may need to limp along while pushing it, and that is okay.

Our faith does not mean the absence of pain or hardship. Faith means trusting that God will carry us through pain and will not leave us to bear our burdens alone. When we assume that simply offering hope in Jesus should immediately relieve someone’s pain, we begin to manufacture our own version of redemption. Redemption is not merely a word we offer someone in pain. It is reconciliation with God, being brought back into relationship with Him and receiving the hope found in Christ. Hope and healing are not opposites. They can, and often must, coexist.

Avoiding a Pain Identity

Acknowledging pain does not mean wanting someone to remain in it forever, nor does it mean we can control when or how long it lasts. But when someone remains in pain without ultimate comfort, they may begin to build their identity around it. They shift from, “This happened to me,” to, “This is me.” Pain can shape us, but it does not need to own us.

Deeper questions lie at the core of making pain an identity: “Do I matter? What was all this for?” These questions are searching for worth and purpose, and if they are ultimately answered by the pain itself, then the pain is preserved. That is where a person can become stuck. But if these questions are answered in Christ, and if Jesus is truly sought in the midst of suffering, then pain no longer has to carry the weight of worth and purpose. Jesus does.

The presence of Christ does not mean the absence of scars. Redemption does not always remove the evidence of what happened; often, it transforms what remains. Pain often softens with time, losing its sharpest edges, but it is rarely erased. Christ enables us to rise above suffering, though the very act of rising acknowledges that something still lies beneath us. The pain may no longer define the space around us, but it remains part of the ground we have crossed. What was once open and raw becomes scar tissue as it is both evidence of what occurred, but also evidence of healing.

Walking with Others

So, what is our role? It is to acknowledge pain as Jesus does. John 16:33 says, “In this world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” Jesus does not promise avoidance of trouble; He promises His presence and ultimate victory. We do this by drawing near: serving in ordinary, practical ways; praying with and for one another; and staying present rather than rushing toward resolution. In doing so, we help others see that the longings pain exposes—for meaning, worth, and purpose—are not meant to be ignored or sealed up inside suffering. Ultimately, our longings are answered in Jesus. When we acknowledge pain and walk with someone through it, we create space for them to encounter Christ, because He alone offers redemption and ultimate comfort. C. S. Lewis once wrote, “For the longest way round is the shortest way home.” We often want a version of Christianity that skips struggle and pain, but the real way—through truth, wrestling, and repentance—may feel longer. It is, however, the only way that truly leads home.

 



The Question to Ask After a Sunday Gathering

By / Oct 27

Over several years, an aspiring young pastor sat through weekly staff meetings at three very different churches. One was a multisite megachurch with thousands of members, a large staff, and a multimillion-dollar budget. Another was a mid-sized church with a small staff, a handful of programs, two weekly services, around 300 attendees, and a yearly budget of $500,000. The third was a small congregation of about 20 members, led by a bi-vocational pastor and supported by a deacon caring for finances with three major events a year, no programs, and a yearly budget of $20,000.

Despite the differences of these three churches, there were two common questions that were asked by each church at their weekly staff meetings after the gatherings on Sunday: “How many people were in attendance, and how much money did the church receive in tithes and offerings?”

The young aspiring pastor was surprised and confused by the amount of time and attention given each week to attendance and offering numbers. Often, these questions were the first points of concern raised during the meetings, and much of the discussion centered on how the church could increase both. He wondered how these questions related to the pastoral work of preaching, praying, and caring for the church. Moreover, he was troubled because there seemed to be little to no spiritual concern for the people themselves.

The Necessity of Gathering with the Local Church

The weekly gathering with the local church is necessary for the Christian. A Christian is forbidden to neglect the regular assembly of the saints at their local church (Heb. 10:25). Now, obviously there are situations and circumstances like being home-bound, sickness, work, or providential hindrances that may, at times, inhibit the ability of a Christian to be present with the church. However, the norm for a Christian is to regularly and faithfully be present at the church gathering. Pastors, and even church members, are responsible for caring and loving one another. One way that churches can love one another is by paying attention each Sunday to who is present and who is absent from the weekly church gathering.

Asking A Better Question

Asking the questions, “How much was the offering?” and “How many were in attendance?” reveals our understanding about the nature of pastoral ministry and of our marker for success in church ministry.

The questions of “how many” and “how much” without regard for the person demonstrates a lack of care and concern for the spiritual wellbeing of the flock. When the church’s greatest concern is attendance, then the person is reduced to a mere number rather than a member of the Church that Christ purchased and adopted into His family.

Most often, as long as people are present and attendance numbers are on par or better, then there is a lack of spiritual concern for the sheep. When the greatest concern of the church is money, then the spiritual concern for the person is altogether neglected. Now, this does not suggest that the church should not monitor finances or encourage biblical giving; pastors and churches should. Rather, the question regarding tithes and offerings shows our concern is focused on money and not the hearts and souls of the sheep pastors are to shepherd.

Pastoral Considerations

Pastor, shepherd the flock that is among you (1 Pet. 5:2). The sheep are more than just a number to be counted. The sheep have names, lives, joys, and sorrows. Each sheep is a person created in the image and likeness of God that Jesus died to save.

Pastor, please do not allow yourself to see the sheep as being just a number or a percentage of the weekly giving. Please do not reduce the sheep to only what they do or do not give financially, which correlates with your salary and the church budget.

As a pastor, you are called to serve the sheep faithfully by praying for them, teaching and discipling them, and shepherding them according to God’s Word. Pastors must have a working knowledge and understanding of the sheep to shepherd the flock well. This goes beyond knowing their name and moves toward knowing each individual sheep personally.

Pastor, get to know each of your sheep. Be sad when one misses a Sunday gathering. Check on them when you haven’t seen or heard from them to see how they are doing. Encourage other staff and church members to lovingly engage the sheep that were not present at the gathering on Sunday as quickly as possible. Jesus showed concern for the people as He interacted with them. He showed little concern for money and instead relied upon God to provide for all His earthly needs. So, instead of asking the questions: “how many were in attendance” and “how much was the offering,” ask a more pastoral question: “Who was here, and who was not?”



Why Your Motives for Ministry Matter

By / Oct 26

Sometimes you can do the right things for the wrong reasons. For example, you might want to preach so you become famous, lead worship to display your passion for God, or pursue a leadership role so people must listen to you. None of those opportunities are wrong, but they can be idolized if the end goal is self, not God. God calls you to worship Him and Him alone. You must live your life as He desires you to live it.

Colossians 3:23 says, “Whatever you do, do it from the heart, as something done for the Lord and not for people” (emphasis added). “Not for people” includes you and me. We do not live for our own glory.

This does not mean you and I cannot have fun in this life, but our life focus, in every work, must be God’s glory. Ministry is never ultimately about building our own reputation or receiving the praise of others. Examine your motives and consider whether you have been ministering for self-glory or God’s glory.

Do Not Rely on Your Gifting

God gifted you to serve the church, but if you are not careful, you can rely on your giftings instead of the gift-Giver. For example, you might be a competent preacher. Over time, you may be tempted to rely on your eloquence or preparation rather than the Holy Spirit. If you sense you are burning out or losing passion while exercising your gift, consider whether your motive for ministry is purely God’s glory.

Practically, this means when people compliment you on a job well done, receive their encouragement with humility while giving God the credit and pointing others to worship Him. When you prepare a sermon or you prepare to lead in the church, your preparation should be covered in prayer, seeking God’s guidance. God is the one who gifted you in the first place.

Your gifting is not the issue, but could it be you have veered away from ministering for God’s glory? If that is you, rather than questioning your giftings or calling, prayerfully change your perspective on the opportunities before you, viewing them as opportunities to glorify God and make Him known.

Check Your Motives

While God still uses less-than-ideal circumstances for His glory, what gain is it for you to continue a lifestyle of self-centeredness? In his letter to the Christians at Philippi, Paul mentions that some during his ministry with them had been preaching the gospel with wrong motives (Phil. 1:12–20). Though wrong motives were paired with gospel preaching, Paul writes, “What does it matter? Only that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is proclaimed, and in this I rejoice” (Phil 1:18a).

Yet James, in his letter to the dispersed Christians of the early church, warns of the consequences that come upon those who minister with wrong motives. He writes, “Not many should become teachers, my brothers, because you know that we will receive a stricter judgment” (Jas. 3:1).

God’s mission will continue forward whether you are part of it or not. The question for you and me is whether will we join Him or make ministry about ourselves. We join God when we pair our giftedness with the motive of glorifying God.

Pair Your Gifting With Godly Motives

If God can work through wrong motives, imagine the fruit that can come from a Christian who pairs their gifting with godly motives.

Imagine a preacher who fully surrenders to preaching for God’s glory—one who is more concerned about pleasing God than pleasing people with his sermons (Gal 1:10). Consider a writer who treats their work as a service to others, trusting God to work in the lives of those who read an article like this, rather than seeking the popularity of their publications to affirm their identity. Think of a worship leader who recognizes that the only reason they are leading God’s people in song is because of His grace and mercy in their life.

God’s mission does not depend on us or our right motives, yet He graciously invites us to participate in His work (Eph. 2:10).

Glorify God and Serve Others

I am convinced that a constant check up on ministry motives is necessary. Like Paul challenged the church at Corinth to examine themselves to see if they are in the faith (2 Cor. 13:5), the same idea applies to pastors, preachers, church staff, lay leaders, and Christians who actively serve the church: Examine your motives for ministry.

Are you ministering for self-glory or God’s glory? Your gifting is not the problem, but your motives might be. Pair your gifting with a heart that seeks God’s glory above your own and discipline yourself for godliness (1 Tim. 4:7). Indeed, as Peter encourages:

Just as each one has received a gift, use it to serve others, as good stewards of the varied grace of God. If anyone speaks, let it be as one who speaks God’s words; if anyone serves, let it be from the strength God provides, so that God may be glorified through Jesus Christ in everything. To him be the glory and the power forever and ever. Amen. (1 Pet. 4:10–11).



How can pastors maintain spiritual vibrancy?

By / Oct 20


10,000 Digital Guides and the Need for Spiritual Fathers

By / Oct 20

The Guides of Our Digital Corinth

Last week I spoke with a young man who attends our young adult ministry. He told me he was becoming convinced of Pentecostal Oneness theology from a “pastor” on YouTube. A few months earlier I met with a couple of young men who were being swayed by some things they had seen from Catholic apologists on Instagram Reels. Two years ago, I counseled a young woman who was considering changing her view on what the Bible teaches on sexuality because her favorite Christian influencer had become “affirming.”

In Paul’s day one of the main things Corinth was known for was sophistry. People went to Corinth to display their prowess at rhetoric. Not simply demonstrating they were wise, but that they were skilled at displaying their wisdom. The best would compete for greater reputation and larger crowds. Devoted disciples would attach themselves to a silver-tongued rhetorician in the hopes of kickstarting their own career.

This culture led to Corinthian Christians claiming Paul or Apollos over and against the other to the point of splintering the Corinthian church (1 Cor. 1:10–12). It was such a serious problem that Paul spent the opening four chapters of 1 Corinthians addressing this issue, leading to his final appeal in 4:14–17:

I do not write these things to make you ashamed, but to admonish you as my beloved children. For though you have countless guides in Christ, you do not have many fathers. For I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel. I urge you, then, be imitators of me. That is why I sent you Timothy, my beloved and faithful child in the Lord, to remind you of my ways in Christ, as I teach them everywhere in every church.

After four chapters of a theological master class on the power of God in the gospel which confounds human wisdom, this is Paul’s closing statement on the issue. No more arguments, just an appeal: “you have so many guides, but I am your only father.”

I’m convinced we find ourselves in a similar situation, and an even more pervasive one, as the Corinthians. You and I live in a digital Corinth, and we too certainly have “countless guides in Christ” (1 Cor. 4:15). Podcasts, social media accounts, YouTube channels, book authors, Xers, Substackers, sermons from celebrity pastors we care for more than the ones coming from the pulpits at our own churches—we have countless guides in Christ. More countless than the Corinthians could have dreamed of.

And, also like them, we don’t have many spiritual fathers. The Corinthians at least had Paul. What about us? Can the swaths of Gen Zers getting the vast majority of their Christian content via their phones name anyone they could call a father in the faith?

And before you see a baby flying out with the bath water, this is not all bad. What a tremendous blessing to have at our fingertips so many godly and sanctifying resources! Where would any of us be without online Christian ministries? Having guides in Christ is not the problem—if they are truly guides “in Christ.” The problem for the Corinthians, and the problem that faces us, is when we try to use those guides to fill our need for spiritual “fathers.”

Not only this, but with the rise of social media and all the modes of Christian content mentioned above, how much of a felt need for spiritual fathers even remains? When constant access and seemingly unending resources—whether they be full online articles or 20-second reels—offer 24/7 instantaneous input laced with a dopamine hit to boot, how many Christians truly have someone who could be called a spiritual father? How many feel that they even need one? Just like with the Corinthians, the guides and gurus slowly but surely replace our felt need for would-be-fathers in the faith.

The trouble is that guides, even well-meaning ones, simply can’t do what only spiritual fathers (and mothers of course!) can do. Online or any at-a-distance guides remain woefully inadequate to do the two things Paul tells the Corinthians that only he can do for them as their spiritual father: love them and be their in-flesh model of the Christian life.

Love

Paul loves the Corinthians. Like a father with his children, he has a deep and genuine affection for them. They are his “beloved children” (4:14)—and not just anyone’s beloved children or God’s generally, but “my beloved children.” And Paul is their “father”—their only one, he not so subtly suggests—through the gospel. This is the core difference between spiritual fathers and guides. Gospel-fathers really know and really love their gospel-children. Because of that love, they have a unique relationship that guides simply can’t replicate.

It doesn’t matter how much you love Desiring God or John Piper himself (I count myself in that number by the way). It and he cannot love you back. Help? Totally! Guide? Yes! Know you? Love you? Feel for you and be concerned for your good like a father is for his children? No way. Not possible. And that’s ok. Being known and fully loved is what you need as a disciple. And it is something only a spiritual parent can offer.

Modeling

Secondly, the guides couldn’t satisfy Paul’s urge “to be imitators of me” (v.16). That’s the reason Paul says he is sending Timothy, so that if they forgot how Paul lived, Timothy can “remind you of my ways in Christ.” And notice that the purpose is to “remind.” It’s a refresher. Paul lived among them for at least 18 months. He was there, among them in person. They watched him live day in and day out. He had demonstrated his Christian life before them in such detail that they should know its shape and “vibe” and only need reminding of his “ways in Christ.”

Consider Your Ways

Who are you imitating? Not what Christian influencer, author, or preacher do you like. Whose life are you so close to that you could actually imitate them? What more-mature-than-you Christian are you tailing so closely that they are rubbing off on you? Whose “ways in Christ” have shaped and are shaping you because you’ve watched them be lived out in front of you?

I imagine most of us—especially younger Christians who have never known life without access to countless guides in the palms of their hands—struggle name someone whose life we are truly imitating. And that inability reveals our digitized Corinthian problem.

Rather than being content with digital and paper guides who cannot love us and whom we cannot imitate, we need spiritual fathers and mothers who love us and live in front of us.

We are not so different from our Corinthian brothers and sisters; our Corinth is simply digitized and our options for guides even more countless. We too need spiritual fathers and mothers who actually know and love us as their beloved spiritual children. We too need spiritual moms and dads we know are worthy of looking up to and who are actually around so we can follow in their footsteps.

So here’s a call to pursue spiritual fatherhood—both to those who need fathers in the faith and to those who need to become them for the spiritually fatherless. We don’t need to get rid of all the guides, though perhaps a few less wouldn’t hurt. But what we do need, like the Corinthians, are fathers like Paul who know and love us and whose ways we can imitate because we’ve watched and are watching closely.