The Purpose of Theology in Times of Uncertainty

By / Nov 10

For the first time in centuries, England had no King.

What started with saber rattling led to a fractious civil war. After years of conflict during the 1640s, the anti-royalists terminated the war with a celebratory sabrage of the monarchy. Many declared the end of the world had come.

For students at Oxford University, this political instability brought anxiety. Where would they serve after graduation? In what state would they find the country? Could one find a job with any kind of financial security or projected path of safety and success?

These were uncertain times.

To address the concerns of the students, one theologian brought help and comfort by, believe it or not, teaching theology.

John Owen was an intellectual giant in the seventeenth century. As a Puritan who advocated reform within the Church of England, Owen saw his influence grow during the time when there was no King. When Oxford University needed leadership, the Lord Protector, Oliver Cromwell, appointed Owen to serve as dean.

Owen’s role at Oxford also meant he had significant influence over the teaching of undergraduate students—and the students loved him.

Owen’s propensity to challenge formality in dress, no doubt, contributed to his large following among the students. He wore unconventional ribbons around his knees with Spanish leather boots. On top of his powdered hair, he wore a hat tilted, for effect, to one side.

Yet, it was Owen’s homiletical approach that had a lasting effect. Anthony Wood recounted that Owen’s “graceful behaviour in the pulpit” could move “the affections of his admiring auditory almost as he pleased.”1 As a regular practice during those years of country-wide instability, Owen and his fellow Puritan, Thomas Goodwin, each preached in the local university colleges on Sunday morning. Then they preached a schedule of Sunday afternoon sermons for undergraduate students in the University Church “St. Mary’s.”

These sermons were orthodox and precise, true and clear, but were more than a right ordering of facts—they were meant to ground and encourage the students to grow in their relationship with God, especially in uncertain times. Crawford Gribben notes that these university sermons “combined the theological mode with the devotional.”2 That is, in an era of tumult, Owen chose to give students theology with a fixed aim: to edify and point them to God.

This focus on edification is remarkable given the pressures Owen felt “to govern a restless and uneasy university community and to manage its affairs under a government in political turmoil.”3 As Gribben explains, Owen saw that “the scholastic bent of much mid-seventeenth century preaching and writing was not producing the godliness that [he] believed it should.”4 So, he designed his sermons to meet that need.

We know this was the case because Owen’s St. Mary’s sermons, while not extant, served as the basis for Owen’s later works including Of the Mortification of Sin (1656), Of Communion with God (1657), and Of Temptation (1658).5

Indeed, Owen’s sermons on communion with God serve as a prime example as they emphasized the believer’s relationship with the Triune God.6 As Beeke and Jones explain, in his sermons “Owen embraced the idea of enjoying the Trinity and amplified it through the concept of distinct communion with each divine person.”7 This is seen right at the start of Of Communion with God where Owen cited 1 John 1:3 to show his student audience that fellowship is with God himself.8

Owen continued to explain how “this distinct communion, then, of the saints with the Father, Son, and Spirit, is very plain in the Scripture.”9 The idea that man could have fellowship with God is remarkable given that “since the entrance of sin, no man hath any communion with God.” Yet, through the “manifestation of grace and pardoning mercy … in Christ we have boldness and access with confidence to God.”10

Naturally, two thirds of Owen’s sermons focused on communion with the Son given that communion with God is not possible without the sacrifice of the Son. Owen explained that “[b]ecause Christ was God and man in one person, he was able to suffer and to bear whatever punishment was due to us…. There was room enough in Christ’s breast to receive the points of all the swords that were sharpened by the law against us. And there was strength enough in Christ’s shoulders to bear the burden of that curse that was due us.”11

Given the work of Christ on our behalf, Owen exhorted the students to, “receive Christ in all his excellences and glories as he gives himself to us. Frequently think of him by faith, comparing him with other beloveds, such as sin, the world and legal righteousness. Then you will more and more prefer him above them all, and you will count them as all rubbish in comparison to him.”12

In tumultuous times, communion with God, then, is both “perfect and complete” and “initial and incomplete.” It is perfect and complete, Owen explained, “in the full fruition of his glory,” and initial and incomplete “in the first fruits and dawnings of that perfection which we have here in grace.”13 Thus, contemplation on fellowship with God strengthens those anxious about the earthly world seemingly turned upside down all around them.

Indeed, Owen’s sermons edified during an era of confusion and distraction for students living in Oxford. His emphasis on the relationship a believer can have with God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit is just one example of how he showed how one should live, with and for God.

John Owen knew that the purpose of theology in times of uncertainty is to edify and promote communion with the living God. Jesus Christ is, after all, the light of the world, and in dark days whoever walks with him, “will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (Jn 12:12). It is good and right to ensure one’s theology is good and right, but failing to edify and point people to fellowship with God, does not produce godliness and fails to give hope.14

*This article is adapted from the forthcoming essay “Beacons from the Spire: Evangelical Theology and History in Oxford’s University Church” scheduled to appear in the December 2023 issue of Themelios.


1. Anthony Wood, Athenae Oxonienses (London: F. C. and J. Rivington, 1820), 4:741.
2. Crawford Gribben, John Owen and English Puritanism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 130.
3. Gribben, John Owen, 172.
4. Gribben, John Owen, 173.
5. Peter Toon, ed. The Correspondence of John Owen (1616-1683): With an Account of His Life and Work (Cambridge: James Clarke, 1970), 47.
6. Philip Henry (1631–1696), father of the Presbyterian leader, Matthew Henry, was a student at this time and reflected on the helps he had “not only for learning, but for religion and piety.” Of the latter, he mentioned the sermons by Owen and Goodwin “on the Lord’s day, in the afternoon.” See Matthew Henry, Life and Times of Rev. Philip Henry, M.A. (London: Thomas Nelson Paternoster Row, 1848), 60.
7. Joel Beeke and Mark Jones, A Puritan Theology: Doctrine for Life (Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage, 2012), 103, 105, 111.
8. John Owen, The Works of John Owen, ed. William H. Goold, reprint ed. (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1965), 2:5.
9. Owen, Works, 2:11.
10. Owen, Works, 2:6–7.
11. This text taken from John Owen, Communion with God, abridged by J. K. Law (London: Banner of Truth, 1991), 66. See original in Owen, Works, 2:67.
12. This text taken from Owen, Communion with God, 60. See original in Owen, Works, 2:59.
13. Owen, Works, 2:9.
14. A wonderful example of theology preached and written for edification can be found in Jared C. Wilson’s recent book, Friendship with the Friend of Sinners: The Remarkable Possibility of Closeness with Christ (Baker Books, 2023).



What is Eschatology?

By / Nov 1

Editor’s Note: The Theology in the Everyday series seeks to introduce and explain theological concepts in 500 words or less, with a 200-word section helping explain the doctrine to kids. At For The Church, we believe that theology should not be designated to the academy alone but lived out by faith in everyday life. We hope this series will present theology in such a way as to make it enjoyable, connecting theological ideas to everyday experience and encouraging believers to study theology for the glory of God and the good of the Church. This week, eschatology.

Conversations on “eschatology” can go off the rails quick. The word conjures up in many of our minds debates about Israel, or images of books with dark and threatening titles and covers with fire and red moons, and the whole topic can leave us befuddled and tired. Because of this, many of us are tempted to just avoid the topic altogether. This is unfortunate because the hope of God’s climactic conclusion to human history is one of the Bible’s central hopes. If this area of Christian theology gripped the minds and hearts of the biblical authors, we cannot ignore it. However, this does not mean that we have no reason to be skittish. Why? Because the whole conversation has, unfortunately, been boxed into a very narrow set of concerns. For the most part, the sum and substance of our eschatological debates surround questions related to the timing and sequence of the return of Christ and the final events of judgment and restoration. To talk about eschatology, we think, is to talk about Revelation 20 and the thousand years mentioned there. Are they literal or figurative? Are they referring to an earthly kingdom before the final judgment or do they refer to Christ’s reign in heaven right now? If the former, are they describing a golden age of earthly prosperity before or after the return of Christ?

Now, to be clear, these questions are not unimportant. We tend to ride what we might call the “millennium pendulum,” swinging from one excess to another—either we minimize the significance of these questions, or we maximize their significance as something worth dividing over. The truth is, neither extreme is important. On the one hand, an ambivalence is wrong because the way we answer these specific questions about Revelation 20 is determined by our understanding of the whole Bible. The way you relate New Covenant Christians to Old Testament prophecies about “Zion” and “Israel” and “Jacob” is not a small matter—your whole understanding of how to put the Bible together is going to shape the questions and answers generated by your reading of Revelation 20. On the other hand, the topic of eschatology is way more massive than even those important questions.

Eschatology is about God’s ultimate goal—his telos, his purpose, his intended end—of creation. God makes nothing purposelessly—to exist is to have a telos. And the telos of creation is its glorification. Which means, eschatology precedes creation. For you to exist as a human being is for you to be a character within a story that is being written by a sovereign Author who is in the process of bringing his story to its perfect conclusion. This is what all creation was made for, and what all human beings in their fullest realization of God’s purpose for them can hope to experience: God’s glory in their glorification. This means that despite the many differences the divide Christian Eschatologies from one another, the most significant difference regarding eschatology is not a matter of what distinguishes premillennialists from postmillennialist or amillennialists, but rather what distinguishes all Christians from every other portrayal of history.

Regardless of your position on the millennium, then, I think it’s possible to sketch out what we might call a “mere Christian eschatology.” Here’s how I would describe it: Eschatology is the theology of last things. This area of theology encompasses the biblical purpose of creation, the biblical prophetic disclosure of the events and circumstances leading up to final telos of the cosmos, as well as the major elements of this telos’s realization, including (a) the bodily return of Jesus Christ to earth (Acts 17:31; Jn 5:22-27; 1 Thess 4:17; Rev 19:11-16), (b) the bodily resurrection of the dead (Acts 24:32-46; Jn 5:28-29; Phil 3:21; 1 Cor 15:12-49), (c) divine judgment, whereby the unrighteous are condemned to hell and the righteous are glorified to inherit the fullness of eternal life (Matt 12:36; 25:32-46; Is 66:24; Dan 12:1-3; 2 Cor 5:10; Rev 20:11-15), and (d) the glorification of all creation, with the consummation of the New Heavens and the New Earth, where the saints will dwell bodily in perfect communion with God forever (Is 65:17; 66:22-23; Rom 8:22-25; 2 Pet 3:8-13; Rev 21:1-22:5).

How can we be certain these things are actually going to happen? Because, in a very real way, the end has already been inaugurated with the death, burial, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus! The day he rose from the dead, he guaranteed that all these biblical promises were not just pipe dreams or wishful thinking. The glorification of the heavens and the earth (or, you might say, the resurrection of the heavens and the earth) is no longer a distant, hoped-for dream—it hasn’t been that for over two millennia, because when Jesus busted out of the grave, he was the first fruits—the early spring budding—of all those glorious promises coming to fruition.

We who have trusted in Christ have come to know what Martha learned from Jesus’s own lips: He is the resurrection and the life (cf., Jn 11:17-26). Knowing these things, and believing them, infuses every part of our lives with meaning. Eschatology means that all the atrocities we see, all the pain and natural and moral evil we experience, all have an expiration date. It means that the stakes in evangelism cannot be higher—we are talking about matters of everlasting life and death. It means that no one who has ever been buried will stay that way—all the “garden” graveyards will yield their dead who will inherit either everlasting life or everlasting judgment (1 Cor 15:23). It means that our final hope isn’t to die and go to heaven, but rather for heaven to come to earth. It means that those whom we love who have died trusting in Christ, though they are currently present with him—perfectly joyful—in a (mysteriously) bodiless way (Phil 1:23-24), are waiting for the very thing you are waiting for: resurrection and the glorification of the heavens and the earth. Perfect, ceaseless enjoyment of God in a glorified body in a glorified cosmos—this is our hope and our promise.

For the Kids:

Kids, do you love stories? Of course you do! Everyone does. That’s because God made us to love stories. Do you know why? Well, there’s a lot of reasons, but the main reason is that God also loves stories, and He made us to be like Him in that way. Now, what if I were to tell you that you are in a story? It’s true; you are a character within God’s story—all of us are. You see, God is writing a story called “history”—it began in the beginning (of course) with creation, when He spoke and said, “let the universe exist” and the universe came to exist. It’s the story we read about in the Bible—and this story—the history of our world—is still being written by God. So, you’re here because God decided this story could use a “you” character in it.

Now, you know—if your parents are Christians and have taught you about the Bible—that one of the most important parts of this story is when God the Father’s eternal Son became a man, when He lived, and died, and was buried, and rose again from the dead, and came back to heaven. You also know, I hope, that if you trust in Jesus to take away your sins and give you a heart to love and worship Him, you will get to go to heaven when you die—your soul will get to be with Jesus. But did you know that that’s not the end of the story. No, the end of the story is way better than that!

There’s a lot that we don’t know about what will happen in this story between now and the end, but we know several things about what will happen at the very end. We know, for example, that Jesus will return to this earth in the same body that went up to heaven. We know that Satan and all his followers will be defeated by Jesus—the warrior-King—and that every wrong ever committed in this world will be righted. We know that after He comes back, Jesus is going to heal this world of every hurt and will bind up and mend every broken thing. And we know that when He comes back, we will get new bodies. We don’t know exactly what those new bodies will be like, but we know that they will be unimaginably better than we could even dream of; and they will be matched by a new world that is just as amazing. And, most importantly, we know that we will be with Jesus and will enjoy being with Him forever and ever and ever!



What is the Afterlife?

By / Oct 18

Editor’s Note: The Theology in the Everyday series seeks to introduce and explain theological concepts in 500 words or less, with a 200-word section helping explain the doctrine to kids. At For The Church, we believe that theology should not be designated to the academy alone but lived out by faith in everyday life. We hope this series will present theology in such a way as to make it enjoyable, connecting theological ideas to everyday experience and encouraging believers to study theology for the glory of God and the good of the Church. This week, the afterlife.

Is there life after death? Will I live on in a state of eternal bliss or in a state of eternal torment? Or will I simply cease to exist? These questions have intrigued and haunted human beings from our origins. Every world religion and philosophy has had some answer or other to these most pressing questions, from the ancient Egyptians, who mummified the dead and gave them provisions for the netherworld, to modern atheists who reject any notion of personal existence after death. The answers to these questions shape not only a one’s hope for the future, but they also give purpose and meaning to life in the present. From a Christian perspective, the answers to these questions are woven throughout the whole fabric of Christian theology: what we believe about God, the person and work of Christ, the identity, destiny, and constitution of human beings (body and soul), the meaning of salvation, the mission of the Church, and the end of history.

So, what does the Bible say about the afterlife? The best place to begin is not at the end but at the beginning. In the creation account, God formed Adam from the dust of the ground and breathed into him the breath of life, constituting our first father as a “living soul” (Gen. 2:7). Likewise, Eve was taken from Adam’s side (Gen. 2:21-22), as a co-equal divine image bearer (Gen. 1:27), and Adam’s posterity share in that same image as well (Gen. 5:3). Thus, all human beings possess dignity and goodness as ensouled bodies (or embodied souls). The tragic sin of our first parents, however, introduces the sentence of death to the human race. Now, after the fall, the unnatural state of death is our common human lot. Death introduces not only a spiritual separation from God, a relational separation from one another, and an existential separation from our own selves; it also introduces a separation of the soul and the body.

Sometimes the Old Testament can speak of death as a definitive end (Psalm 6:5; 30:9; 88:10-12; 115:17; Isa. 38:18), but this is only from the perspective of life on earth. In other places, the Old Testament speaks of some kind of ongoing personal existence after death. The righteous dead are said to “go to [their] fathers in peace” (Gen. 15:15) or to be “gathered to [their] people” in death (Gen. 25:8, 17; 35:29; 49:33; Num. 20:24; 27:13). Echoing the creation language of Genesis 2, the Preacher writes that “the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it” (Ecc. 12:7). For the unrighteous, a more sobering prospect remains after death. Those who participated in Korah’s rebellion were swallowed up by the earth and went “down alive to Sheol,” the place of the dead (Num. 16:30, 32). Elsewhere, the Old Testament speaks about the possibility of “going down to Sheol” in “mourning” (Gen. 37:35). Sheol (the Greek term was Hades) was the abode for all of the dead in the Old Testament, but it appears that there were at least two possible outcomes in that netherworld: the righteous dead experience the peace of being gathered to their people and the unrighteous dead experience Sheol as judgment. The calling up of Samuel from the dead by the medium at En-Dor, though an illicit attempt to communicate with the dead, is further evidence of this teaching in the Old Testament (1 Sam. 28).

But the Old Testament also points to another, more glorious state of life after death: the resurrection of the body. There are hints of this teaching in multiple places in the Old Testament. After all of his suffering, Job waxes poetic about the prospect of an embodied afterlife: “For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God” (Job 19:25–26). Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones being restored to life also points in this direction (Ezek. 37). But the clearest teaching on the resurrection of the body in the Old Testament comes in Daniel 12 in his vision of the end of history:

And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. And those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky above; and those who turn many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever (Dan. 12:2-3).

From this teaching, the ancient Hebrews began to see that the afterlife comes in two stages. At death, the soul departs the body and goes to the place of the dead (Sheol/Hades), where the righteous dead are comforted in Abraham’s Bosom/Paradise (Luke 16:22; 23:43) and where the unrighteous dead suffer in torment (Luke 16:23). But this is merely a provisional or intermediate state. The final state of human existence will come at the end of history when all of the dead will be raised bodily, some to everlasting life and some to everlasting judgment. Each person’s body and soul will be reunited in an immortal, resurrected state.

The New Testament writers assume the Old Testament teaching on the afterlife, but they see it as fundamentally altered by the work of Jesus Christ. Death was definitively defeated through the atoning death of Jesus. Furthermore, Jesus himself descended to the place of the dead in his own intermediate state, the time between Good Friday and Easter Sunday (Eph. 4:9). In Sheol/Hades, Jesus proclaimed his victory over death (1 Pet. 3:19), seized the keys to Death and Hades (Rev. 1:18), and liberated the souls of the Old Testament saints in Sheol (for more on Christ’s descent to the dead, see this important work). This is the so-called “harrowing of hell”: Jesus entered into death, that most harrowing (that is, distressing) human prospect, and rather than being himself harrowed by hell, he harrows it! Then, on that glorious Easter morning, Jesus burst the bonds of death and emerged from the tomb as the firstfruits of the general resurrection which will happen at the end of the age. From now on, all who die in the Lord can rest assured that they will also be raised in glory with him (Rom. 6:5; 1 Cor. 15).

Some Christians and sectarian groups have espoused a notion of “soul sleep,” in which the soul at death simply passes from consciousness until the resurrection of the body at the second coming of Christ. Others have argued that believers are immediately resurrected upon death—that they are somehow translated in time to the eschaton (that is, the end of history). But the New Testament seems to teach the same two-stage afterlife as the Old Testament, only reoriented by the work of Christ. After death comes the judgment. So, when unbelievers die, their souls go to hell, where they await the resurrection of their bodies, at which point they will experience the final judgment: the “lake of fire” (Rev. 20). Until the second coming, believers too must experience the painful separation of death. In this intermediate state between death and resurrection, the souls of believers are “away from the body” but are consciously “at home with the Lord” (2 Cor. 5:8). They “depart” the “flesh” in order to “be with Christ” (Phil. 1:23-24). But this disembodied state is not the final word. The martyred souls under the throne in heaven await their final vindication: “They cried out with a loud voice, ‘O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?’ Then they were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and their brothers should be complete, who were to be killed as they themselves had been” (Rev. 6:10-11). The final vindication, not only for the martyrs but for all the believing dead, will come at the return of Christ when “the dead in Christ will rise first” (1 Thess. 4:16). Then, those who are alive at the second coming will be immediately translated into their resurrected state.

There are several important lessons that we can draw from this rich biblical teaching on the afterlife.

First, be prepared for death. No one knows the time of his departure from this life. We should order our affairs each day with our death in view. The Christian faith is as much about learning to die well as it is about learning to live well (though it is about both and they are intimately related). The most important thing that we can do to prepare for death is to repent of our sins and to trust in the guilt-removing, death-destroying gospel of Jesus Christ.

Second, help others prepare for death. The mission is urgent. Share the gospel with your unbelieving family members and friends. Support global missions by going or sending. Recognize that unbelievers are not our ultimate enemy. They too have an enemy who seeks to enslave them to fear and unbelief (Heb. 2:14-15).

Third, live in hope. Death is a frightening prospect, to be sure. The death of loved ones leaves a painful scar on our souls. But Christians can face death with confidence in the mercy and power of the Lord Jesus Christ. When the apostle John saw a vision of the Risen Lord, he “fell at his feet as though dead.” The response of the Lord to John’s fear should hearten every believer in the face of death: “But he laid his right hand on me, saying, ‘Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades’” (Rev. 1:17-18).

For the Kids:

It is sad to think about, but every person will die one day. Maybe you know someone who has died, a grandparent or someone else in your life. It is important to know that this is not the way it is supposed to be! People die because of sin, not necessarily because their own sin but because of the sin of all humanity in Adam and Eve.

Death brings about a separation. Each person is made up of two main parts: a body, which you can see, and a soul, which you cannot see. The soul is that part of you that was made to know and love God and that will live forever. When a person dies, his soul is separated from his body. For those who believe in and follow Jesus, their souls will go to be with Jesus in heaven. For those who do not believe in and follow Jesus, their souls will go to a place of judgment called Hell.

But there is hope in death. Because of the death and resurrection of Jesus, all who turn from their sins and believe in him can know that they will go to heaven when they die. But there is even better news! When Jesus comes back to earth one day, your body will be raised from the dead and reunited with your soul so that you can spend forever with Jesus in a beautiful and glorious body for ever and ever. So, Christians don’t have to fear death. We can put our hope in him, even when we are afraid.



Start With The End: 3 Reasons You Should Try Writing the Conclusion of Your Sermon First

By / Oct 10

Have you ever listened to a sermon and felt like the preacher did not know how to stop talking? “Just land the plane” is an encouragement you may have heard before. Preaching is hard and ending the sermon with a satisfying conclusion is even harder. You can have the most engaging opening story, great exegesis, and helpful application and yet leave the audience exasperated at the end because you keep circling the runway instead of landing the plane. Or even worse, you can take the people on a great exposition that glorifies God and edify the saints and just crash the plane at the end because you didn’t know how to get out of it. How you close a sermon is as important as how you start the sermon.

Quintilian, the classic orator said “The peroration (conclusion) is the most important part of forensic pleading.” The conclusion of the sermon is place where you make a final plea and argument for your people to believe what God’s Word has said and apply it to their lives. Yet the temptation is to haphazardly wrap things up with an application point or closing anecdote. You will serve your people well when you close a sermon with clarity and conviction. If you find that a particular airline has pilots that tend towards uncomfortably, bumpy, and startling landings you will fly with someone else. And as important as it is for a pilot to get you to the ground safely, it is even greater that those of us who labor in the proclamation of God’s Word to his church conclude with clarity and satisfaction. Here are three reasons why you should try writing your conclusion first.

Clarifies the Central Main Point

Any impactful sermon aims to communicate a central truth or main point. (Yes, your sermon should have a main point that you are proving.) Too often, preachers lose sight of this focus during the sermon development process. You found a hilarious illustration, a fascinating detail in the text, or a place to do cultural engagement but what if those great things don’t actually serve your main point. They are your favorite rabbit trails, but going down the rabbit hole is not what a sermon is meant to do. You need to know your main point that you are bringing to your people in order to conclude the sermon. Writing the conclusion first can serve as a powerful antidote to this problem. Your work in the Word will lead to the main point of the passage. If you do your work, starting at the end really isn’t that hard. The conclusion ought to hit that main point home one final and forceful time to stay in the mind of your audience.

By crafting the conclusion upfront, you crystallize the central message you want to leave with your congregation. This focused idea becomes the lighthouse guiding all other parts of your sermon. As you construct the introduction and the body, you are constantly reminded of the primary point you want to make. It enables you to be sure that every element of your sermon—be it scriptural exploration, real-life applications, or illustrations—directly contributes to driving home your main point.

Pulls Together the Movements in the Sermon

A sermon isn’t merely a linear progression of ideas; it’s a journey that the preacher takes the congregation on. This journey has different movements—sometimes through contrasting viewpoints, parts of a story, or your classic three-point sermon. Knowing your conclusion from the get-go offers clarity to these movements. Your subpoints work like turns on the road or rocks in a creek. They get you to your destination. If you don’t know your destination, your conclusion, then your subpoints will take you somewhere else, or perhaps leave your stranded.

When you write the conclusion first, you essentially establish your sermon’s destination. With the end point clear in your mind, you can thoughtfully plot the course you wish to navigate to get there. Each movement in the sermon becomes a strategic step toward that pre-determined conclusion. Whether you are using deductive reasoning, building an argument, or engaging in storytelling, the movements will be more coherent and logical, helping your people understand and remember the message.

Makes People Want to Come Back and Listen Again

A strong, memorable conclusion leaves a lasting impression. It’s the part of the sermon that often resonates most deeply with listeners and gives them something to ponder long after they’ve left the church building. It is the last thing they will likely hear you say. Consequently, the conclusion can be a significant factor in whether people will want to come back and listen again.

Writing the conclusion first allows you to tie up loose ends, identify the key takeaways, and the emotional tone you wish to set. By identifying this emotional and spiritual landing point early in your preparation, you are better prepared to craft a sermon that captures attention from the beginning, holds it throughout, and releases it only after imprinting a compelling message on the hearts of your listeners. That’s something that I would want to come back and hear again

Conclusion

The task of sermon writing is both a privilege and a responsibility, and the approach one takes can make all the difference. Writing the conclusion first might seem counterintuitive, all the more reason to try it. I’m not saying pick a conclusion apart from God’s Word. Do your exegetical work, find your main idea, and when you sit down to write the sermon start at the end. It clarifies your sermon’s central point, gives structure and clarity to its various movements, and most importantly, leaves your congregation eager to return for more. Look, there is nothing magical about when you write your conclusion. But having a good conclusion that reinforces the conclusion is important and too easily passed without thought. So, the next time you sit down to pen a sermon, consider starting at the end.



What is Pure Act?

By / Oct 4

Editor’s Note: The Theology in the Everyday series seeks to introduce and explain theological concepts in 500 words or less, with a 200-word section helping explain the doctrine to kids. At For The Church, we believe that theology should not be designated to the academy alone but lived out by faith in everyday life. We hope this series will present theology in such a way as to make it enjoyable, connecting theological ideas to everyday experience and encouraging believers to study theology for the glory of God and the good of the Church. This week, pure act.

We are creatures torn between being and becoming. In the grand symphony of creation, everything reflects the tension between what is, and what will be. From the tiniest microorganisms to the greatest galaxies swirling in the cosmos, each created entity carries its unique blueprint of potentiality and fulfillment.

The fact that the world around us is full of potential is so common to our everyday experience that we hardly stop to notice. We don’t often pause to look at an oak tree in the park long enough to marvel at the acorns strewn about beneath. But there in those tiny acorns lies the potential to grow, given the right conditions, into a giant oak tree. This is because it is the very nature of an acorn to become an oak. An acorn, we could then say is potentially an oak tree. Looking from the other direction, we could say that a mature oak is a fully actualized acorn. That is, when the true nature of the acorn is fulfilled or actualized, it becomes the tree that it was created to become.

We humans, as part of God’s intricate design, also embody this principle. We are born helpless infants, brimming with the potential for growth and learning as we mature into the adults we are meant to be. Our lives are exercises in becoming, the pursuit of actualizing our dormant abilities and fulfilling our purposes to create and cultivate God’s creation.

All created things reflect this distinction between what they are, and what they can become. We live in a world where being and becoming are built into the very fabric of reality.

Yet, amidst this constant flux and change that characterizes the created world, God stands as the unchanging being. God’s essence is perfect, simple, and pure. He is the eternal “I AM” that knows no shadow or variation due to change. This divine unchangeability (immutability) reminds us of the profound difference between the Creator and His creation.

The world around us pulsates with potential, a testament to the exquisite design of creation, while God remains the epitome of pure being, untouched by the winds of change, and ever radiant in the fullness of His perfect existence. God, being the Creator of all things, is not like us. As pure existence, the One who has life in Himself, He has no need of becoming. To imply that He has need of becoming would be to confuse the Creator with His creation.

We could then say that God is purely actual, only ever and always existing and acting out of the fullness of His perfect, infinite life, never out of lack or need. In short, God has no potential to become anything other than what He already is, because He Himself is the fullness of life.

For the Kids:

As kids, you hope to grow up and be big someday. It’s why you play “grown ups” with your friends and pretend that you are doctors, firefighters, professional athletes, or moms and dads. Growing up is part of what it means to be a kid. It’s why you play and learn new things and why, when the time comes, you will learn to do less fun grown up things like work and chores. But that is a good thing! It means that you are becoming who God created you to be.

God, however, is not growing up and changing like you are. He is, and has always been, perfectly God, so He has no need to grow up or change. This is good news for you because it means that God does not lack anything! Since He lacks nothing, everything God does, He does it out of His abundant love, never out of need. In fact, God is so perfect and complete in himself that he chose to share everything He has with you, in Jesus. This is the good news of the gospel.

So as you grow up in a world full of change, always remember that God cannot be any more because He already is.[1]

[1] Thanks to Thomas Hext for this aphorism about what it means for us to confess that God is pure act.



The Secret to Loving Your Wife Better: Love Jesus Better

By / Sep 21

I recently heard somebody say that one of the ways to endure well in ministry is to realize that ministry is not about you, it’s all about Jesus. The same is true of marriage. When you embrace that marriage is about Jesus first, and you and your wife second, one of the secrets of a joyful, enduring marriage comes to light: love Jesus better, and you will love your wife better.

As pastors, it seems we should know this instinctively. Our calling is directly tied to helping others come to know Jesus better. But we are no different than all of our church members when it comes to needing to be reminded constantly that the Bible says that marriage is about Jesus first and that it works right when we love Jesus first.

As I have studied what the Bible says about marriage, both for my own growth and for the growth of others whom I am trying to help, I have become convinced that Christ’s relationship with the church is the controlling metaphor that God has given us to help us understand marriage. A controlling metaphor is a word picture that explains something for an entire work of literature. At the beginning of the Bible, when God created marriage in the Garden of Eden, he initiated a human covenant relationship that he knew could reflect the relationship between his Son and his people. Even so many years before Jesus, even in the Garden, God was pointing ahead to his Son.

At the end of the Bible, when God plans a celebration feast for the consummation of the ages, he describes it using what term? The marriage Supper of the Lamb (Revelation 19:7, 9)! When we love our wives like Christ loves the church, we are playing our part in a story that has been told since the beginning of time, a story that will continue to be celebrated at the end of time as we step into the beginning of forever.

Paul points this out in Ephesians 5:31-32, when he quotes Genesis 2:24, and then explains that there are depths to marriage we can only begin to understand on this side of eternity: “‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church.” Marriage refers to Christ and the church. God embedded marriage in culture as a quiet pointer to the gospel. So, when we love our wives well, we point to Jesus. But also, when we love Jesus well, we love our wives better.

After two decades of marriage, I have noticed a pattern: when I am closer to Jesus, I am usually closer to my wife. Why is this? Paul David Tripp helpfully explains in his book, What Did You Expect?, “A marriage of love, unity and understanding is not rooted in romance; it is rooted in worship…No marriage will be unaffected when the people in the marriage are seeking to get from the creation what they were only ever meant to get from the Creator.”

This applies to pastors as much as anyone else. Yet, there are certain dangers inherent in our vocation. We can think that because we are serving Jesus daily as part of our job, that we are naturally close to Jesus. But one test of a man’s walk with Christ is in how he treats his wife. This is not to say that if we are close to Jesus, that we will automatically at all times be close to our wives. The fact that you are a sinner married to a sinner in a world groaning under the curse, with a difficult calling as a pastor’s family, means that there will be ups and downs in your marriage. But making your relationship with Christ a priority is the start to finding the freedom and power to love your wife humbly and selflessly as Jesus loves, no matter what is going on in your relationship or ministry at the time.

When you remember that Jesus is your first love (see Revelation 2:4-5), then his love naturally overflows out of your life onto your wife. It’s not that loving Jesus and loving your wife are commands from God that are at odds with each other, it is that we can only love others rightly when we have our loves ordered rightly.

Jesus explained how loving God results in loving others: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22:37-39) Your wife is your closest neighbor, so the words of Jesus remind us of our order of priorities as shepherds of God’s people: love Jesus, love your wife, love your kids, and love others including your church family and community.

Fellow pastors and ministry leaders, don’t forget that there is a clear command from the Bible on loving your wife, “… be intoxicated always in her love” (Proverbs 5:19). God calls you to be madly in love with your wife. This is best for you, best for her, best for your kids, best for your church, and it glorifies God. So pursue her simply for the joy of pursuing her, and because you love her. But don’t forget that you will love your wife better when you love Jesus better. Root your pursuit of her in the fact that you have been pursued by Christ. Embracing this secret can be the secret to embracing a joy-filled marriage.

Rekindle your love for Jesus, and be in tune with his heart for reflecting the gospel in your marriage. Then your marriage will be like a fire that keeps you both warm, and at the same time gives light to others.



What is Assurance?

By / Sep 20

Editor’s Note: The Theology in the Everyday series seeks to introduce and explain theological concepts in 500 words or less, with a 200-word section helping explain the doctrine to kids. At For The Church, we believe that theology should not be designated to the academy alone but lived out by faith in everyday life. We hope this series will present theology in such a way as to make it enjoyable, connecting theological ideas to everyday experience and encouraging believers to study theology for the glory of God and the good of the Church. This week, assurance.

The doctrine of assurance wrestles with the big question, “How can I know I’m saved?” The answer it provides is, because of “the promises of salvation, the inward evidence of those graces unto which these promises are made, [and] the testimony of the Spirit of adoption witnessing with our spirits that we are children of God.”[1] You can find the doctrine throughout Scripture (Romans 5:2, 8:15-16; Hebrews 6:11, 6:17-18; 1 John 2:3, 3:14, 3:24, 5:13).

The doctrine has an objective and subjective dimension which should be distinguished (but not separated). The first dimension we can refer to as “assurance of salvation.” It asks the big question in an objective sense: “How can I know I’m saved?” It refers to the ground of Assurance, the place we look outside of ourselves to see that salvation has been accomplished. And the answer is to one place: the finished work of Christ. This aspect of assurance never shifts because God’s promises of salvation in the gospel never do. A Christian can be sure of his salvation because God himself has promised!

The second aspect we can call “assurance of faith.” It deals with the subjective aspect of the big question–“How can I know I’m saved?”; as in, “That may be salvation, but how do I know that I have true saving faith which receives it?” It refers to the personal experience of assurance. A Christian can be sure of his salvation by looking inward at his fruit and the Spirit’s conviction in his heart that he belongs to God. This sense of assurance may rise and fall. Why?

“True believers may have the assurance of their salvation diverse way shaken, diminished, and intermitted; as, by negligence in preserving of it, by falling into some special sin which wounds the conscience and grieves the Spirit; by some sudden or vehement temptation, by God’s withdrawing the light of his countenance, and suffering even such as fear Him to walk in darkness and to have no light. Yet, are they never so utterly destitute of the seed of God and life of faith..this assurance may, in due time, be revived”[2]

The doctrine of assurance, then, is both a steadfast objective reality and a fluctuating subjective experience.

Assurance is a sweet doctrine for the Christian life for two reasons. First, it teaches a Christian’s salvation remains assured because the divine promises of salvation in the gospel never bend. Second, it acknowledges that while a Christian’s subjective experience of assurance may waiver due to sin, affliction, etc. they themselves remain just as held by God. Not only that, but it can always be buffeted and grown.

Because our salvation rests in the objective work of Christ and not our subjective experience, we can objectively assure one another even in the midst of our lack of subjective assurance that we are his until our experience “catches up” to truth. This is what the doctrine of assurance assures us of!

For the Kids:

“Assurance” refers to a Christian’s confidence of salvation and the genuineness of the faith that connects them to salvation. Assurance has two dimensions. The first is found outside of us and so is called “objective.” This sense of assurance comes from one place: God’s promises of salvation in the gospel. How can you be sure you’re saved? Because God promises it in the gospel!

The second dimension is personal, or “subjective.” It’s found by looking at our fruit and at the inner-conviction from the Spirit that we belong to God. Because it is related to ourselves, the experience of this second sense of assurance can be grown or diminished. How can you be sure you’re saved? Look at your fruit and the Spirit’s testimony within you!

Assurance is like a bicycle. The rear wheel (the objective dimension) never turns because it is held in place by the bike-frame (the gospel). The front wheel, though, can wobble from hitting rocks (suffering, God’s hiding his face, etc.). Not only that, but it can turn different directions due to the actions (sin or obedience) of the rider (the Christian). All make up the bike of assurance God uses to carry the Christian.

[1] Westminster Confession of Faith Chapter 18.2: “Of Assurance of Grace and Salvation”

[2] Ibid. 18.4



How Jesus Wanted Us to Read His Gospel

By / Sep 19

Today my son found months-old Saltines at the bottom of a wicker basket. I pried his mouth open and begged him to spit them out, but he slipped away, swallowing his prize with a grin.

In the next room, strewn across the floor and his high chair, sat his half-eaten lunch. I’ll never understand what makes my toddler desire stale crackers instead of a freshly made sandwich, but he always eats the crumbs off the floor, the bread that seems lesser to me.

Often, I’d argue, when we’re reading the Gospels, we also eat the lesser bread.

At times I open a Gospel to wrestle over Jesus’ teaching, a parable or a specific teaching point, and I forget to see the One who’s teaching. I forget that, by reading the Gospels, we don’t just learn about Jesus, but we can know him.

The Gospel writer John emphasized repeatedly his desire for everyone to know Jesus—through teaching, pointed questions, and important events in Jesus’ life—and in the middle of the Gospel of John, he further emphasized why he wrote: “These [things] are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you might have life in his name” (John 20:31). In other words, John didn’t write just because, or to provide loosely connected observations on Jesus’ life, but he had evangelism in mind. This is the heart of John’s Gospel: that we might believe Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that we might believe him.

John spent several years following Jesus, hearing him speak, watching his miracles, listening in on conversations. He witnessed Jesus weep, experience hunger and thirst, resurrect a dead man, die, and come back to life. John knew Jesus, and he wanted his reader to know Jesus too; he wanted his reader to really know Jesus—to experience a lasting relationship with Christ that only comes through belief in him.

He wanted his readers to know the greater bread.

At one point in his ministry, Jesus drew a crowd of 5000 hungry people. Enamored by stories of Jesus healing the sick, they followed him. Desiring to feed the crowd, Jesus multiplied a little boy’s fish and bread, the disciples passed out lunch, and the crowd ate until satisfied. Enamored by yet another sign, they tried to “make him king by force” (John 6:15). When Jesus escaped, the crowds followed him to the other side of the sea, and he quickly determined what they were after: they wanted the food, the physical bread (John 6:26–27). Once again, they were more interested in what this man had to offer them instead of the man himself.

Jesus patiently responded with a well-known declaration of his identity: “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst” (John 6:35). Yes, Jesus provided the crowds with good teaching, food, and the signs they sought, but he also provided them with something so much greater: he provided the crowds with himself.

Jesus was the greater bread.

Too often, as I read about the life of Jesus, I am just like these crowds—my belief is in a lesser bread. I understand that he feeds the 5000 to show the crowds the face of God, but like them, I come to him for what he provides—I come to him for the lesser bread (John 6:26–27). Too easily, the good things Christ has to offer me—his teachings, his miracles, a renewed attitude, a verse to prove an argument—obscures Christ himself.

As we read about Jesus in the Gospels, we read about a man who lives. We read about a man who pursued us, lived in perfect obedience, gave his life, and was resurrected, so that we might believe in and know him, through the Holy Spirit. This same man sits in heaven even now, with the same resurrected body with which he walked this earth, and thinks of us, sees us, knows us.

And when we read John’s Gospel, we submit ourselves to the Christ who has made himself known, who longs for us to know him as the true bread, the greater bread—who longs for us to believe him (John 6:35, 40).

The next time we open the Gospel of John, we could treat Jesus simply as a good teacher, scrounging for the final crumbs tossed to the floor. Or, we can know Christ as he has made himself known, the Son of God—the One who calls us to believe.

I’ll choose the greater bread.



William Carey—A Plodder, Pioneer, and Proclaimer Who Kept the Grand End in View

By / Sep 14

Four years after having sent William Carey (1761-1834) to India, the Baptist Missionary Society sent John Fountain to aid Carey and send a report of what he found. Here’s part of his report, dated November 1796:

    • [Carey] labours in the translation of the Scriptures, and has nearly finished the New Testament, being somewhere around the middle of Revelations. [sic] He keeps the grand end in view, which first induced him to leave his country, and those Christian friends he still dearly loves.

1

William Carey, a modern missionary pioneer who endured much hardship, persevered in faithfulness until the age of 73. His life and ministry would change the modern world.

How did he manage faithfulness in the Christian life in challenging times—and at a time when few had crossed-cultures to reach the unreached?

From his earliest days of missionary activity until the end of his life Carey kept the grand end in view. So, what is this grand end?

The Grand End

While it is right to say that the entire Bible points to and reveals the grand end, I believe there is one verse that sums it up well.

In Galatians 3:8, the apostle Paul says, “And the Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, preached the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, ‘In you shall all the nations be blessed.’”

Here, Paul explains that God has always had the salvation of the nations in mind. From the beginning, he conveyed to Abraham his plan.

In what is often called the centerpiece of the first five books of the Bible, God says to Abraham,

    Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed. (Genesis 12:1-3 ESV)

At the age of 75, Abraham obeyed God, and he and his wife left their country.

After a period of travel and time, God met with Abraham, took him outside and said, “Look toward heaven, and number the stars, if you are able to number them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” And [Abraham] believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as After a period of travel and time, God met with Abraham, took him outside and said, “Look toward heaven, and number the stars, if you are able to number them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” And [Abraham] believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness (Genesis 15:5-6). God then made a covenant with him promising that he would be “the father of a multitude of nations” (Genesis 17:5).

In this event, Paul tells us in Galatians 3:8, the gospel was preached to Abraham.

Yet, we might think, “How is this possible, as the name of Jesus Christ is not mentioned?” In short, the gospel preached to Abraham was God’s promise to him that through Abraham and his offspring, all the nations would be blessed. Or, simply that Gentiles, non-Israelites, will be justified by faith.

In Romans 4, Paul explains that “the purpose was to make him [Abraham] the father of all who believe” and that “the words ‘it was counted to him’ were not written for his sake alone, but for ours also. It will be counted to us who believe in him who raised from the dead Jesus our Lord, who was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification” (Romans 4:11, 23-25). And, again, Paul explains that the gospel was “promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy Scriptures, concerning his Son” (Romans 1:2-3).

The gospel has always had the doctrine of justification at its center. Reconciliation of sinful humanity to a holy God, and the removal of his just condemnation, is the core of gospel truth.

Yet, to be gospel-centered is to recognize that the gospel was intended for Abraham in the Old Testament-past as a forward looking, faith requiring message, revealed with the miraculous advent, perfect law-abiding life, atoning death, and victorious resurrection of Jesus Christ, that we are also to receive now as a backward-looking, faith requiring message, and we are to take that message to the nations of earth.

The gospel preached to Abraham, though not revealed in full, was nevertheless received with justifying faith and pointed to a future fulfillment among peoples, including us, from every tribe, tongue, and nation. This future fulfillment is the “grand end” William Carey kept in view.

A Plodder, Pioneer, and Proclaimer

Carey spent just over 40 years in India. As he kept the grand end in view, three virtues describe well his ministry.

A Plodder

Carey’s virtue as a plodder allowed him to see God’s faithfulness strengthen him when there was every reason to give up.

Carey and his family arrived in Bengal and endured immediate hardship. They lived in unhealthy conditions in a shack outside of Calcutta, and they suffered from hunger and dysentery.

In the first year, the Careys lost their 5-year-old son, Peter, to illness. This tragedy, along with other trials, wreaked havoc on both Careys, especially his wife. Understandably, Dorothy Carey struggled, and this led to her retreating from reality and that led to many more trials until her death in 1807.

How did Carey persevere? He trusted in God, and he went forward, plodding by faith.

Carey wrote to his sisters, “I am very fruitless and almost useless, but the Word and the attributes of God are my hope, my confidence, and my joy, and I trust that his glorious designs will undoubtedly be answered.” 2

One of his biographers recounted, “[I]nvinicible patience in labour, and uninterrupted constancy, secured his triumph over every obstruction. He once said … ‘[I]f anyone should think it worth his while to write my life … If he will give me credit for being a plodder, he will describe me justly. Anything beyond this will be too much. I can plod. I can persevere in any definite pursuit. To this I owe everything.” 3

A Pioneer

Carey’s virtue as a pioneer allowed him to see God’s faithfulness sustain him when he was doing things no one had done before.

The first 7 years brought little spiritual fruit. Writing to his sister in 1798, Carey said, “I have however no news to send … at best we scarcely expect to be anything more than Pioneers to prepare the way for those who coming after us may be more useful than we have been. I know success depends entirely upon the blessing of God, and there in him I will trust and not be afraid. The principle thing we see is the translation of the Bible into the Bengal language.” 4

Seeing the translation of the Bible into the native languages was a primary plank in Carey’s platform for evangelizing India. As Timothy George notes, in a country of syncretistic religions—Isalm and Hinduism plus folk expressions of both, Carey held fast to his conviction that “only the Bible could show the uniqueness of Christ.” 5

In 1797, he would see the first draft of his translation of the NT into Bengali, which he would revise 8 times before he died. By 1807 he published a Sanskrit NT.

A Proclaimer

Carey’s virtue as a proclaimer allowed him to see God’s faithfulness as sufficient to bear fruit according to God’s plan.

While focused on translation, once he learned the language, Carey would regularly preach in open-air markets. He took encouragement from the fact that even though there was no response, the name of Jesus is “no longer strange in this neighborhood.” 6

In 1799 Carey moved his family to Serampore to join with two other missionaries, Joshua Marshman and William Ward. Known as the Serampore Trio, these three established a new base called the Serampore Mission—and their friendship and joint missionary service was a key to their survival and success in proclaiming the gospel.

From this home base, Carey also impacted the Indian culture. Early he observed with horror the practice of suttee, where following her husband’s death, the wife was expected to throw herself on top of her husband’s funeral pyre. Carey advocated against this practice until he saw, in 1829, the Governor outlawed the practice. He also contributed several other advancements to Indian understanding of science, engineering, medicine, publishing, agriculture, education, and astronomy.

The Blessing of the Nations

By keeping the grand end in view, William Carey changed the evangelical world and launched the modern missions movement. At his death, as an indication of his sole focus, he requested only a line for his tombstone from one of his favorite hymns by Isaac Watts, “A wretched, poor, and helpless worm, on thy kind arms I fall.”

Despite earthly fame and historic legacy, Carey departed in faithfulness, keeping Jesus in view, the greater Grand End, and the blessing of the nations was the result.

*This article is adapted from Jason G. Duesing’s recent chapel message: “Keeping the Grand End in View: The Life and Ministry of William Carey for the Blessing of the Nations,” a “Great Lives” lecture at Midwestern Seminary and Spurgeon College. You can watch the full lecture below.

1. “From Mr. Fountain to Mr. Fuller,” November 8, 1796, in Eustace Carey, Memoir of William Carey, D.D. (Jackson and Walford, 1836), 286, italics added.
2. William Carey to Mary Carey and Ann Hobson, December 22, 1796 in Terry G. Carter, ed., The Journal and Selected Letters of William Carey (Smyth & Helwys, 2000), 249.
3. Eustace Carey, Memoir, 623.
4. William Carey to Ann Hobson,” November 27, 1798 in Timothy D. Whelan, Baptist Autographs in the John Rylands University Library of Manchester, 1741-1845 (Mercer, 2009), 91-92.
5. Timothy George, Faithful Witness (New Hope, 1991), 111.
6. Timothy George, Faithful Witness,113.



What is the Soul?

By / Sep 6

Editor’s Note: The Theology in the Everyday series seeks to introduce and explain theological concepts in 500 words or less, with a 200-word section helping explain the doctrine to kids. At For The Church, we believe that theology should not be designated to the academy alone but lived out by faith in everyday life. We hope this series will present theology in such a way as to make it enjoyable, connecting theological ideas to everyday experience and encouraging believers to study theology for the glory of God and the good of the Church. This week, the soul.

Have you ever considered what you are made of? Answering this question, a person might speak of all the inner workings of our bodies: our brains and nervous system, our blood and veins, our organs and their functions, our bones, ligaments, and joints. Truly, every eighth-grade biology student would tend to know these facts. Indeed, the Scriptures speak to the fact that humans “have been remarkably and wondrously made” (Psalm 139:14, CSB). However, if we stop at being made as “functional bodies” alone, we fall short of the full Biblical picture of our being. We as humans are bodies and souls.

Concerning the soul, the great confessions of the Protestant Faith usually state something like what we see in the Second London Confession: “After God had made all other creatures, He created man, male and female, with reasonable and immortal souls.”[1] Notice, reasonable and immortal souls. Of course, it is not true that all we are is our soul, either. God created us as both body and soul. But what exactly is the soul? The Old Testament most often uses the Hebrew word nephesh to describe the soul, and this word is closely associated with the life that God breathes into Adam in Gen 2:7 where Moses writes that after God breathed the breath of life in Adam, he “became a living being.” So, we could say that the soul is the immaterial “life” that is part and parcel of the wholeness of being a human. Just as we need our heart to pump and our brain to function, we need our soul to live. Though we know that the other creatures that God created have life—thus some kind of “soul”—we are certain that mankind’s soul is set apart due to mankind being made in God’s image and likeness (Gen 1:27). This, the confession speaks of, as mankind’s soul being reasonable and immortal. Let us look more carefully at these two ideas.

The idea of reasonable

When God created mankind in His image and likeness, He created them as creatures of reason. Far above the rest of creation, God instills in mankind a knowledge of nature and Himself. For instance, after God creates Adam, He gives Him dominion over the earth and charges him with the naming of the animals (Gen 2:19). The animals do not name themselves, but God instructs Adam to, with the reason and authority God gives him (a reflection of God’s authority and reason), name the animals. As Adam is naming the animals, he reasons that though there are male and female companions amongst the animals, there is not one found who befits him (Gen 2:20). Furthermore, it seems that reason given to mankind by God is expressed in the law written on their hearts by which God also commands them to obey (Rom 2:15; Gen 2:15-17).

The idea of immortal

God also creates mankind after His likeness. Just as His Spirit is eternal, so too is mankind’s soul (though created and thus having a beginning) is eternal. Scripture teaches us that when mankind dies, though his body returns to dust, his spirit (or soul) is with the Lord (Gen 3:19; 2 Cor 5:8). When the believer is resurrected their transformed and glorified body will reunite with their soul, but whereas their body died and needed resurrection their soul has lived on, because it is immortal (1 Thes 4:13-18). Paul speaks of the decay of the outer man (which needs resurrection) but of the renewal of the inner man, the soul, which lives on.

Eternal Souls Do Not Equal Eternal Life

Though the soul is immortal, just as the body needs a resurrection, the soul needs regeneration. Humanity is born “dead in our trespasses and sins” (Eph 2:1). However, God does not leave us without hope. Jesus, though eternally God, as the eternal Son, put on humanity—He is truly God and truly man—lived a perfect life we could not live, died a death on the cross we deserved, received the judgment of God we deserved, was buried, and three days later rose again. He did this so that all who would believe in him might be reconciled to Him, the Father, and the Spirit. When a person trusts in Him, they are regenerated, and to the point of our current study, their souls are made new (John 3:1-21).

Conclusion

To summarize, the soul is the life-giving immaterial part of the human being which God created without which mankind would not be whole; he is body and soul. God created mankind in His image, breathing life into him, part and parcel of which is this life-giving reality known as the soul. The soul needs to be regenerated which is what happens when one places their trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, His perfect life, death, and resurrection as the only means to be reconciled to a Holy Triune God.

For the Kids:

When my kids were little, we taught them Biblical truths with questions and answers. One of those questions was: “Who made you?” If your parents are teaching you in the same way, you may know the answer to this: “God made me!” This truth is very important for you to know. It is also important for you to know that God made you as one who not only has a body, but also a soul. The soul is part of who you are, that part of you that you can’t see. Just like it is necessary for your heart to beat, your soul is also necessary for you to live. Though our bodies get hurt and will eventually die (and need to be raised to new life), our souls live on forever. Just because our souls live forever, doesn’t mean that we will live forever with God. Every part of us, even our souls, are sinful, so we need Jesus to make our souls new. He lived without sin, died for sinners, and rose again, so that if we trust in Him, our souls will be made new (and one day our bodies too), and we will live with God forever!

[1] The Second London Confession, 4.2.