Why We Sing

By / Jan 21

The Christian faith is a singing faith. A singing saint brings deep joy to the heart of God. There is not a chapter and verse in Scripture that explicitly states this, but when you consider the sum of singing commands and the role singing plays at so many critical points in redemptive history, we easily come to the conclusion that our God really, really likes to hear his people sing. It brings serious joy to God’s heart to hear his people sing psalms of praise, hymns of devotion, lyrics of lament, melodies from hearts made new. Like my heart swells when I hear my children singing within our home, the heart of the Father is stirred by his sons and daughters singing to him in love and devotion.

Psalm 96:1–3 will serve as a sturdy foundation for us to build on.

1 Oh sing to the LORD a new song;
sing to the LORD, all the earth!
2 Sing to the LORD, bless his name;
tell of his salvation from day to day.
3 Declare his glory among the nations,
his marvelous works among all the peoples!

An Act of Worship

The first truth we come to is that singing is an act of worship (Psalm 96:1). For the Christian, singing is not merely singing, but is something so much more. It is an expression of worship unto God. Of course worship is more than singing, but as we lift our voices in song it is certainly not less than an act of worship. Whether we sing alone, at home with our family, or in a chapel with our church, our singing should be seen first and foremost as an offering unto God.

Our song involves a divine audience. Not once, not twice, but three times the Psalmist calls us to sing to the Lord in this opening verse. Implicit in this passage and explicit in others (Psalm 40:1) is the stunning reality that the Lord of All Creation condescends to hear our song. What a profound thought that he would receive our songs. So we worship God not only with narrative and prose, but also with music and poetry, melody and harmony, rhythm and rhyme, notes and hearts joined together.

Let’s ask a few questions of these opening two verses to help highlight some important aspects to worshiping through song.

A New Song

First, let’s explore, “What kind of song is called for?” You will notice first that it is a new song. In the same way that God’s mercies are new every morning, each day brings new reasons for praise.

This new song is a “fresh song responding to a freshly received, fresh experience.” There is something about singing new texts and tunes of praise that causes us to pay attention in a fresh way. Crisp expressions allow our hearts to experience the same unchanging truths in brand-new ways.

Each published hymnal has a beginning and an end. However, the hymnal of the church has no back cover. The reason for this is clear. New songs will continue to be written as the Lord continually gives his people reasons to sing.

At the time this psalm was written, David could not have imagined the ways that new songs would be birthed in the millennia that followed. New songs of God’s praise expanded far beyond the border of Israel to include a diversity of developing styles and genres, many multicultural and musical expressions: the talking drum of West Africa, the high-church hymn of London, the buzzing sitar of northern India, the Gaelic psalm singing of the Hebrides, and the blues guitar of Muscle Shoals. Just as God’s new mercies visit us daily, new songs should be a welcomed addition to our ever- expanding hymnals.

Does this mean old hymns should be boxed up and stored in the church attic never to be hummed again? Not so fast! Old songs are also a meaningful part of Christian worship. With equal zeal to sing new songs, let us sing the old ones too. Scripture is replete with timeless songs which are meant to be sung through the ages. Church history contains a repository of riches that we should continue to sing. Historic hymns of our faith remind us that we are not the first generation who have wrestled, prayed, lamented, and praised through life. Many of us remember particular songs from our past that carried us through specific seasons of our lives. So, we continue to bring out the old songs while gladly welcoming the new.

A Congregational Song

The next question we ask of this text is, “Who is summoned to sing?” Here is where a particular choir takes the stage to lift their voices together—a congregation composed of every tribe, every tongue, and every nation. All the peoples of the earth are summoned to join in the chorus. The ancient Israelites would have understood this phrase to anticipate the day when Gentiles joined their song of praise to the Lord Almighty who is “great and greatly to be praised” (96:4), the One True God who is to be “feared above all gods” (96:4). This is a bidding for people to leave behind the worthless things they have worshiped in the past (96:5) and bring their collective worship to God alone. Though individual praise has its place, the singing called for here is not a solo performance but a congregational song.

We will return to this thought again, but for now let this pebble roll around in the shoe of your thoughts: if Scripture envisions people singing together, how well does your church sing together? When you think about the sound of your church’s music, do you first think about electric guitars and drums, keyboards and a choir, or does the sound of the whole congregation singing come to mind? Each person has been welcomed to come and sing praise to the King!

One of the results of the Reformation was that congregational singing was given back to the people of God. For too long, Christians gathered for worship as a choir of church leaders sang praise while the congregation simply watched the performance. The reformers sought to return the practice of singing to the church with songs in their own language. This allowed the people to participate once again in worship. If we are not intentional in our day about involving the whole church in singing, I fear we may retreat to having professionals lead worship under the lights while the congregation silently disappears in the dark. Let us see that the songs of Scripture are largely meant to include the whole congregation.

A Commanded Song

The final question I’d like us to ask is, “Why do Christians sing?” I realize this might seem like a silly question at face value, but have you ever stopped and thought about it? Of course, there are untold reasons that believers sing. We sing as a practice of prayer, to express emotion, to communicate creatively, the list goes on. But the ultimate reason that Christians sing is because we are commanded to. Singing is not a divine suggestion but a holy commandment from the Almighty God. Yet, like all the words of God, this command is not a burden to bear us down but a law to lift us up. The command to sing to the Lord sends our thoughts and hearts Godward understanding that each member of Triune God is worthy to be praised.

Paired with this commandment to sing to the Lord is the admonition to bless his name. Singing for the people of God is more than just melody making and lyric reciting. Singing is an act of worship by which we bless the Lord. To bless the Lord means to praise and adore him. So, how can we summarize an answer to the question: why do we sing as Christians? We sing to the Lord as an act of worship, together with the people of God, because we are commanded to.

A Delightful Command

Christian singing is a harmony of duty and delight. It is a delightful command. God delights in our singing, and singing fuels our delight in God. I had become a Christian some years before, but at the age of 15, the Lord gripped my heart with his grace in such a profound way that the only thing I knew to do in response was to sing. I started writing songs about who God is, what God had done, and what he was doing in my life. I had something to sing about. God’s love causes the silent heart to sing.

When we truly enjoy God our hearts are compelled to praise him and in the act of praise our joy is made complete. C.S. Lewis drew a straight line between these themes when he wrote, “I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation.” If your heart has been remade, reformed, and recalibrated by the love of God in Christ, the deepest part of you can’t help but sing in response to what God has done.

Think carefully and you will realize that you have 10,000 reasons to lift your voice. As you consider the privilege of singing—the who, the what, and the why of it all—you understand from Scripture that congregational singing is more than an arrangement of melody and lyrics performed by a group of strangers. Congregational singing is an act of worship offered to the Living God by a group of fellow believers who have participated together in Christ.

The next time a service begins, try not to see the songs as a prelude to preaching, or think of them as a warm-up exercise before an exposition of Scripture. Treat singing seriously, like something you have been commanded to do before the Lord. Join your voice with those around you with whom you share a great salvation. Sing as an expression of worship with your heart full of this divine mixture of faith and song.

Editor’s Note: Excerpted with permission from What if I Don’t Like My Church’s Music? by Matt Boswell. Copyright by 9Marks, published by Crossway.

 



Is Hell Real?

By / Jan 21

Another cold take on a literally hot topic. Kirk Cameron recently announced he was moving away from the doctrine of eternal conscious torment and toward conditionalism or annihilationism. On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss what’s at stake in this doctrinal shift, the relevant passages that should inform our views, and why ETC is an important doctrine for gospel fidelity.



Growing in Godliness Through Faithful Examples

By / Jan 20

Discipleship is both taught and caught. We need faithful teachers who open the Scriptures for us and living examples who show us what it looks like to follow Jesus. In Philippians 3:17, Paul exhorts the church, “Join in imitating me, brothers and sisters, and pay careful attention to those who live according to the example you have in us.” His counsel is simple and wise: look around your church, identify ordinary people who embody godliness, and pay close attention to them.

The Christian life is learned in community. We need models of godliness in action. But what kind of examples should we look for, and what kind of example should we aim to be? Here are four traits of ordinary godliness worth noticing and imitating.

Joyful Obedience to God 

Not all obedience is the same. Jesus warns in Matthew 6 against obedience that seeks attention: “Whenever you give to the poor, don’t sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do” (Matt. 6:2). Others obey the way children sometimes obey their parents—grudgingly, simply to avoid punishment.

The examples we imitate should be marked by joyful obedience. Attitude matters. Look for people who serve quietly, put chairs away without being asked, and do so with glad hearts. Scripture says, “Happy are those who keep his decrees and seek him with all their heart” (Ps. 119:2). Godliness is not merely compliance; it is delight.

Fierce Commitment to Orthodoxy

Orthodoxy means right belief, and right belief matters. A church filled with kind people but deliberately corrupted theology is not a godly church. Truth and godliness always belong together.

Paul is clear about this as he entrusts ministry to Timothy: “Hold on to the pattern of sound teaching that you have heard from me… Guard the good deposit through the Holy Spirit who lives in us” (2 Tim. 1:13–14). Godly examples are people who know their Bibles, love sound doctrine, and resolve to hold fast to the gospel.

Love for the Local Church 

Jesus loves the church, and his disciples share that love. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35).

Every church is imperfect. Jesus knows this—and still loves his bride. If He can love our churches, then so can we. We should be wary of those who speak constantly and exclusively about their church’s flaws. That posture breeds pride and bitterness. Paul provides a better model. His letters to Corinth contain strong rebuke, yet they are framed by gratitude and affection: “I always thank my God for you” (1 Cor. 1:4), and “My love be with all of you in Christ Jesus” (1 Cor. 16:24). People who love the church help us love Jesus.

Humbly Receiving Correction 

How we receive correction reveals much about our character. Even faithful Christians can drift out of step with the gospel, as Peter did in Antioch (Gal. 2:11–14). God graciously uses correction to restore us.

Sometimes that correction comes through reading our Bible or hearing a sermon. Sometimes over coffee with a friend, or even an innocent conversation with your son. However it comes, receive it with gratitude because it shows that God is caring for me like a father for a son (Heb. 12:7).

I once watched my pastor receive unsolicited feedback between services from a visiting attendee. His sermon—prepared with prayer and care—was being critiqued. A pastor’s sermon is precious to him. He spends all week prayerfully putting it together and now a random visitor was offering correction.

How my pastor responded was a model of receiving correction with humility. He didn’t get defensive or dismissive—he listened well. Even though he didn’t agree with every point, he thanked the visitor for his insight and acknowledged this conversation with gratitude.

Godly people don’t have everything figured out. They are teachable.

Ordinary Godliness, Together

Apart from Jesus, no one is the perfect example. Thankfully, we don’t need perfect models. As others watch us follow Christ in our brokenness, they learn how to follow him in theirs.

This collage of imperfect yet faithful believers—pursuing Christ together—is where ordinary godliness is most clearly seen. Pay attention. Learn from them. And follow Jesus.



Bright Hope for Facing the Unknown

By / Jan 16

In Sickness and in Health

How do I care for my husband when he is sick more than he is well?

I asked myself this question as I sat beside my husband in his hospital room, feeling the weight of living in a sin-cursed world press down on both of us.

Three years into our marriage, this wasn’t what I imagined our life together would look like. On our wedding day, at twenty and twenty-one, the words “in sickness and in health” didn’t feel heavy or serious. They sounded more like promises to fetch cold medicine for sniffles or hand over Tums for an upset stomach.

Most young, healthy couples don’t imagine that these words will be tested in a hospital room just a few years into marriage. Yet there we were, staring at the fleeting reality of life, and I realized I had promised to love and care for my husband “in sickness and in health”—and I had no idea how to do the former.

Facing the Unknown

I had seen my husband sick quite a few times as we served overseas as missionaries in a third-world country. I heard him giving up the entire contents of his stomach on various occasions, and I felt the fever on his forehead as his body fought off a variety of illnesses. Those moments of sickness felt like just that—moments. They passed with the help of antibiotics, fluids, and naps. We were young and living in a third-world country where that kind of sickness was normal. I knew what to do in those moments: give him plenty of water, take him to get more antibiotics, make some light-hearted jokes, and move on.

But when my husband was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease after months of sickness and a week-long hospital stay, I found myself at a loss. This was not a stomach bug or the common cold. This had no easy fix—and still has no easy fix. This was night after night of vomiting, weeks of losing blood and increasing weakness, and waking up in the middle of the night to a pain-ridden, feverish, shaking husband, feeling helpless and afraid. This was spending a week in the hospital trying to figure out why his body was failing him.

Yet I was confronted and comforted by the truths of Isaiah 26:3: “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.”

During my husband’s week-long hospital stay, I repeatedly thought, “This isn’t how it was meant to be.” Our hearts felt drawn to despair as we sat in that hospital room, but thankfully, years of hearing and learning the truth about God, his sovereignty, and his promises were in our hearts. Scripture passages about suffering and pain that had been tucked away for a rainy day became real, and we clung to them. God’s Word became a refuge as we faced the unknown.

Steadfastness in Trials

As we faced the unknown, the words of James shone true: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness” (Jas. 1:2–4).

Steadfastness. Endurance. The Lord gave it in abundance. We made it through days of physical pain and the spiritual pain that comes with watching your best friend suffer. We weren’t expecting my husband to die that week in the hospital, but not knowing what his diagnosis was at the time brought forth a conversation I didn’t think we would have in our twenties. The unknowns were looming over us: How serious is this? Is it curable, or is it terminal?

We were heading for despair, but again, the Lord was kind as years of abiding in his Word bore the fruit of hope. We both knew that even if the worst happened, our hope was secure in Christ. He would faithfully carry us through whatever lay ahead. He did—and he continues to—as we face a future battling a chronic illness.

As my husband and I have been faced with the harsh reality of our finiteness, Paul’s words have been a comfort: “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:16–17).

Grieving Properly with Bright Hope for Tomorrow

I just finished reading the Wingfeather Saga for the second time and love how stories we’ve read before can give us fresh insights and emotions during different seasons of life. The youngest character in the story, Leeli, is confronted with the death of her beloved dog, Nugget, and the brokenness of their overall situation. Her brother observes her in her grief and notes, “She seemed older, no longer shocked that such a thing could happen in the world, but heartbroken because it had. Her tears struck Janner as the right kind of tears.”

Later, he notices how their current sufferings were already shaping something good in his sister: “Podo and Leeli finally came back to where the others rested, and though her face still bore the weight of her sorrow, Janner could see that his sister was present. Her eyes didn’t stare into nothing. They saw the situation, grieved for it, and faced it.”

Her tears were right and good. It’s not wrong to grieve what ought to be grieved! Death and suffering were not a part of God’s original design and good creation. Sin brought pain, suffering, and death. So we grieve what God does not call good, but we don’t become stuck in our grief. Like Leeli, we shed the right kind of tears. We grieve, but we face it. And thankfully, as believers, we do not grieve like the world does because we have hope that one day all will be made right. One day, my husband, Brett, will be in eternity with a body that is no longer broken and no longer causes pain and suffering, because his body will be like God intended it to be.

This side of eternity, I seek to care for Brett in sickness by relying on the grace of God to give me the strength to be compassionate and servant-hearted toward him on the hard days. I grieve the loss of health and take that grief before the Lord, knowing that he is the God of all comfort. However, I don’t remain in that grief because the hope of eternity is in my heart. Saying our vows almost nine years ago, I did not think this would be my lot. Even so, it is well with my soul.



The Church and AI

By / Jan 14

On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the challenge AI poses to the church. What are some beneficial uses of artificial intelligence? What are some uses Christians should avoid? And what is the spiritual impact of this encroaching technology on Christian culture?



How To Repent of Your Insecurity

By / Jan 8

“I know it’s not real, but I’m still afraid.”

My son said this to me as he jumped into my arms when we were walking through a neighborhood full of shockingly creepy Halloween decorations. There was a robotic werewolf wrestling against the bars of a cage, shrouded in haze and flashing lights.

“That’s okay, my son. I’ve still got you.” It warmed my heart; my son is still small enough for me to carry him even though he’s freshly smart enough to articulate his inner life.

Insecurity grasping for security isn’t an emotional experience that we ever truly outgrow. Many experienced followers of Jesus, at every age, grapple with a sense of self that is fractured, unstable, and too easily subjected to circumstances. The stress that ensues steals our sleep, interrupts our relationships, and leads to both over-functioning (anxiety) and under-functioning (depression).

We often try to treat the symptoms without dealing with the root of the issue: our lack of secure connection to our Father in heaven. The insecurity that haunts our psyches is something we ought to seek to repent of—not necessarily the feeling itself, but the underlying unbelief that creates it—rather than make peace with it, treat it as normal or inevitable. Attacking insecurity involves three things: submitting to our status as the Father’s adopted children, operating in integrity in relationship with our siblings, and fighting our fear of man with the fear of the Lord.

Our Status as Adopted Children

Our feelings tell us the truth about how we’re making sense of the world around us. When our house is built on a poor foundation and we see the floods rising, our heart rate spikes, worry pours forth, and panic tears through our once-quiet mind. This disorienting and uncomfortable experience can revel the sad fact that we’ve built our lives not upon Christ, but sinking sands—things like money, the approval of peers, and self-righteousness.

These moments should trigger reflection: upon what—or whom—have I built my life? Where have I placed my confidence? I was feeling secure, but that source of security is now under siege, proving itself to be an illusion. This newfound fragility is, in that sense, sober disillusionment.

Do I believe my Father in Heaven owns the cattle on a thousand hills? Do I really believe I am His irrevocable heir? Do I sincerely believe I’ve been made a child of God by sheer grace? Do I functionally place my hope in the finished work of Jesus and his coming new creation?

I have a friend whose Father is incredibly wealthy. On the one hand, my friend is comforted by this; on the other hand, he hates this. He likes knowing he has no reason to be afraid of financial ruin, but he doesn’t like that he can’t take credit for being a self-made man. There is a holy swagger that looks like a paradox of fearlessness and humility that emerges when we submit to the status our Father has assigned to us as his children. We have everything we need, so we’re secure; and we know we’ve earned none of it, so we’re grateful.

Our insecurity reveals the truth about how secure we are in Christ.

Operating in Integrity

It is one thing to think and believe rightly about our Father in Heaven. It is another to live out that truth in our relationships with our brothers and sisters. Often, insecurity is downstream from a fractured sense of self. We behave one way in public, another in private—acting out one identity at home, another at work, another online, another at the gym, and yet another in the group chat. This fractured and disintegrated self creates anxiety because there is a chronic fear that worlds will collide and embarrassment will ensue.

One of the overlooked “survival response” mechanisms is fawn. We may be familiar with fight, flight, and freeze, but fawn is acting in such a way that we earn the approval of the person who we are looking to for security—especially when we compromise our integrity in doing so. We act out a false self to please others, because our sense of worth depends on theirs. We lie about ourselves with our words and actions to take hold of momentary relief from awkwardness, fear of abandonment, and disapproval.

Stepping towards integration—being an authentic, congruent self in every environment—is painful because it requires confessing our lack of integrity. This is partly why confessing your sin is healing (Jas. 5:16): it bridges separated relational realties and brings what is in the dark into the light. It’s rejecting the temptation to have multiple identities in favor of having one identity, rooted and grounded in love. This is a risk because we might be rejected. But the reward is integrity and the possibility of a genuine relationship in which we’re known and loved, not falsely known and loved. Therein legitimate security is found.

Fighting Fear with Fear

There is much we can fear. Fear is opposed to security because it signals that something we love is being threatened. The solution to fears that create insecurity is not merely to become less fearful, but to fear rightly. “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matt. 10:28). This fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, the starting point for living God’s Word with skill and balance.

When we fear the Lord, we’re aware of his presence and authority. When we learn about the One whom we fear, we find that He is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin” (Exod. 34:6–7). When we are attuned to the opinions of the gracious and merciful Triune Godhead above all other perspectives, we find that security naturally emerges, because the One who does not change has bestowed on us a dignity, purpose, and value that cannot be shaken.

Jump In

Insecurity isn’t itself sinful, but it is downstream from sin: from living a fractured life, resisting our adopted status given by the Father, and from allowing disordered fears to supersede our fear of God. When we labor to repent of the causes of our insecurity, our sense of self comes into alignment with reality as we embrace a sober, Spirit-filled, and truly integrated identity.

As securely attached children jump into the arms of their fathers when fears arise, so also we lean into the arms of God Most High, whose Spirit assures us of His presence and reminds us not just of who we are, but of whose we are: “That’s okay, my son. I’ve still got you.”



FTC Mailbag

By / Jan 7

It’s a Mailbag episode! In this installment, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz answer listener-submitted questions and topics, including: renewed interest by young men in the church, managing busy schedules, pastoral teams without a lead pastor, cultivating humility, holiday preaching, and favorite fiction reads of 2025. As always, if you have a question or topic to suggest for the Mailbag please email us at [email protected]



The Gospel Adorned: A Pastoral Meditation for a Post-Christian Age

By / Jan 5

In Titus 1, Paul writes, “for the sake of the faith of God’s elect and their knowledge of the truth which accords with godliness, in hope of eternal life, which God, who never lies, promised before the ages began, and at the proper time manifested in his word through the preaching with which I have been entrusted by the command of God our Savior” (Titus 1:1–3).

Pastors, as platitudinous as this sounds—we were made for this moment. We are pastoring in one of the most seismic socio-cultural shifts at scale that the world has ever seen. We are guiding souls across the “new Roman roads” of a global age. Yes, it’s complex, confusing, and exhausting, but the essence of our job description remains, transcending the shifting sands of time—shepherding and feeding the flock, connecting with and confronting cultural narratives, and fulfilling the longings of an unsatisfied age. So it should be impossible to hear this encouragement as overly simplistic, arrogant, or even ignorant. Pastors, we were made for this moment. Let us now consider for a moment how we are to respond.

At the beginning of his letter to Titus, Paul gives a sweeping declaration of who he is and what the Lord has called him to do. He was set to live and lead into his moment in redemptive history. Now pastor, a great confidence should arise from Paul’s words, “before the ages began.” This changes everything about what we do, because it means that our work is woven into a timeless covenant propelled forward by a sending God—three in one—with a plan, an eternal plan to redeem. A missionary God coming to a people, His church, to bring them into His work. And we, pastors, like Paul, get to do what the entire cosmos hangs in the balance upon—preach His Word, “entrusted by command of God our Savior,” with the “grace and peace” given to us in Christ.

Paul goes on in his letter to exhort Titus to teach new believers “to adorn the doctrine of God our Savior” (Titus 2:10). But can something so grand and glorious as the gospel be improved? What does it mean to adorn it? Charles Spurgeon helped get at the question when he said that, “The gospel is best adorned when most unadorned.”[1] We need a little bit more, so maybe a picture from home will illustrate.

My wife has a knack for “urban treasure hunting.” Step into the dim, golden glow of our living room—books and trinkets from around the world—yet nothing stands out more vibrantly than a 19th-century Victorian painting. Meet Bianca, an elegant woman complete in form, substance, and beauty. Yet what allows Bianca’s Victorian majesty to shine is actually the frame: gilded, regal, floral in pattern, perfectly complementary.

The frame doesn’t steal from the glory of the painting; it adorns it.

As we read on we see that this is Paul’s point. Believers are to display its beauty through the way that they live. It is this witness that makes the gospel truly shine. Pastor, let us consider our work of adorning the gospel in three movements—training, waiting, and declaring. And I want to give you a glimpse of how each one of these is at work in a part of the world renowned for its grandeur and indescribable beauty. A place that is spilling over with common grace, set within a meticulously crafted, Baroque-lined frame. Can the doctrine of God our Savior really be adorned in a place like this?

Grace Trains Us

“For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions” (Titus 2:11–12).

Grace has appeared. Grace is a person—Grace is Jesus, who pitched His tent and tabernacled among us (John 1:14).

Grace isn’t a detached gift given by God; grace is personified and He has come to us. This changes everything about our ministry—our preaching, our care of souls, our equipping of the saints. And it is through His training that He is bringing salvation for all people. To put it simply, our work is about displaying His rescue plan by our conduct. And as we labor, emitting the aroma of His love through our joy, mercy toward enemies, integrity, patience, and forgiveness, we show our people that adorning the doctrine of God our Savior is worth giving our lives to. Grace trains.

One living example of grace training a people appears in the 5th Arrondissement of Paris—one of the most consequential neighborhoods in the post-Christian West. A collision course of culture and history—Roman ruins, Baroque-lined streets, an influential university shaping Western thought. A place where the beating drum of expressive individualism finds some of its earliest articulations, where the mantras of our age were formed: “live your truth,” “you do you.” But its allure cannot satisfy.

In 2025, people are tired, lonely, and parched from moral disarray. They need to encounter grace that trains. This is exactly God’s plan for the 5th through the birth of a new evangelical church: L’Eglise de la Montagne. Housed in an old cinema, the training begins on Launch Sunday in full and glorious display. Pastor Philip Moore stands at the entrance, black-rimmed spectacles and warm grin, welcoming guests into a lobby permeated with the sweet smell of pastries and coffee. The theater fills. Praises ascend in French. A handshake between the sending pastor and Philip becomes a vivid reminder that churches plant churches, and that meaningful partnership—sending and receiving—is still the way of mission.

Grace is training a people in Paris. Grace is training a people in your city.

Grace Helps Us Wait

“… waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:13).

As Grace trains us and others in godliness, He also helps us wait for our blessed hope. Have you ever considered the divine hardwiring of human beings to long for something beyond this life? Whether we are in Atlanta or Wichita, Phnom Penh, or Cairo, notice how everyone is living toward an end, a telos. Really, it is that everyone is eschatological, yet this longing for final resolve can only be fulfilled in the gospel.

As that old cinema fills up for the first time on launch Sunday in Paris’ famous 5th, Philip preaches to these very longings. A context far and distinct from ours, yet also so near and relatable. The ‘religious anatomy’[2] of humanity expressing the common insatiable search for meaning in this life—all needing to hear how truth, goodness, and beauty, each finds its fullest expression in God through Christ.

In Paris, on this very Sunday, many who have never heard the gospel listen intently as this news begins to shape their imagination with an invitation to enter His story through repentance and faith. They can now know what they are waiting for: the blessed hope of their salvation, Jesus.

There is a hopeful sense that a new day is dawning for the advance of the gospel in Paris. Protestants of old were persecuted nearly to extinction on these very streets. Calvin’s unrealized vision for France to be flooded with new churches comes to mind.[3] A small, yet resilient community of pastors and their churches waiting in hopeful anticipation that the beauty of Christ will soon burst forth from arrondissement to arrondissement, and even better, He will appear again.

Pastors worldwide, we all know this waiting—this longing for Christ to come again, for His glory to renew our cities, and for His hope to strengthen our people. Grace helps us to wait with hope. The kind of waiting we are called to is proactive. It is individual and corporate; it is patient and urgent. It adorns the gospel in visible display as we gather and scatter.

Grace Authorizes Our Declaration

Paul says the gospel was “manifested in His word through the preaching with which I have been entrusted” (Titus 1:3). He instructs believers to adorn the doctrine (2:10) and Titus, a pastor, to declare the gospel (2:15). Declaring Christ also adorns the doctrine.

In Paris, the declaration looks like a cinema transformed into a sanctuary. Music begins, and praises rise in French. Philip’s sermon on truth, goodness, and beauty declares Christ’s supremacy.[4] The people of Paris hear the good news echo into their historic streets. Pastor, whether you are in a traditional sanctuary on Sunday morning, gathering at a storefront, meeting in a living room, a school, or an old warehouse, you get to declare that He “gave Himself for us to redeem us… and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession, zealous for good works” (2:14).

Pastor, we were made for this moment. Adorning the doctrine of God our Savior is the mission. Grace appeared, grace trains, grace helps us to wait with hope until Christ appears again, and grace empowers us to declare. That means that there is hope for Paris, our town, and our city.

May we adorn the doctrine of God our Savior until that day.

The work of adorning the gospel continues in cities around the world. See it in action in this documentary: Watch now.

[1] Spurgeon, Charles H. “Adorning the Gospel.” Sermons vol. 18 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1872), 377.

[2] Strange, Making Faith Magnetic, p. 27.

[3] Michael A. G. Haykin, “John Calvin’s Missionary Influence in France,” Reformation and Revival 10, no. 4 (2001): 41–42. Haykin notes that by 1562 more than 2,000 Protestant churches had been planted in France, many through the efforts of Geneva trained missionaries under Calvin’s global vision of gospel advance.

[4] From his launch sermon at L’Église de la Montagne, Philip Moore described the church’s vision this way: “We want to be … a church in the 5th arrondissement, for the 5th arrondissement; a church where everyone can encounter God through Jesus Christ; a church where we live out the three values we have chosen for our church: truth, beauty, and goodness. We believe that when we understand the truth about God, we see him as he is—perfect beauty and goodness—and that this experience allows us to live out truth, beauty, and goodness in our everyday lives.”



Jonathan Edwards’s Challenging Resolutions

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On this special New Year’s episode, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the teenage Jonathan Edwards’s challenging resolutions. Why does he repeat himself so much? Was young Jonathan suffering from scrupulosity? What can we learn about the gospel and our own resolutions from his commitment to focus on Christ’s glory?



What does it mean to be “For the Church”? – Will Standridge

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