Pastoral Ministry and Christian Progress

Our Struggle with Progress

I’m coming up on two years in pastoral ministry. Although I’ve not spent much time in pastoral ministry, I’ve come to realize something—there is importance in progress. Waiting patiently for God to do His work in His people is more important than seeing someone change overnight. Looking for a quick fix will not produce the obedience we desire in our sheep. Rather, we must trust the Lord’s plan of lifelong discipleship, knowing that He will produce obedience in the lives of our sheep.

Let me give some examples of situations we may encounter in our churches. You meet with a few men each week to discuss Scripture. Every week, the men seem to get off track as they love to tell stories about their life that have nothing to do with this passage, or they riff off one word they read. They just can’t seem to come to focus on the passage and attempt to understand what the passage means to the original audience, how Christ is connected to the passage, and what we must do in light of these things.

Perhaps week by week you meet with the same guy struggling to let go of his sin. You’re unsure if he even comprehends the severity of his sin. After months, there seems to be some progress, but you wish he’d just be done with that sin by now. If only he could defeat it.

Someone riddled with anxiety comes to your office every few months to talk. Last month they were looking for counsel because some conspiracy theory post on social media got them going. This time they are looking for counsel because they fear a fellow church member is avoiding them even though there is no evidence for this. There’s just always something wrong for this one.

These situations can cause some doubts within the pastor. Doubts come about whether your people are listening to you or not. Sometimes, you may even begin to doubt a church member’s salvation. It feels like they just don’t understand the hope we have in Christ. Maybe you begin to doubt your ability to teach or to counsel. In the end, it just doesn’t feel like these people are making any progress in the faith.

Scriptural Progress

If you’re feeling like Moses leading the Israelites in the desert, then you probably know what I’m talking about. It’s here that I’d like to remind you that a pastor practices patience because a pastor recognizes that progress is the goal of ministry. Hear these words from Paul: “I am sure of this, that he who started a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Phil. 1:6). Paul understood that the gospel work in our hearts is completed at Christ’s return. We too should expect that our people’s progress will not be complete until His return.

The book of 1 John is helpful for us to understand how God is working in us. 1 John 1:5–6 can be summed up by saying that God is pure light and no darkness dwells in Him; therefore, anyone who claims they have fellowship with God but walks in darkness does not walk with God. We are to understand that sin is darkness and that by participating in sin we walk in darkness. Our problem of sin causes us to remain in darkness; however, God has provided a way. Through Jesus, we are taken from the realm of darkness and into God’s glorious light. Living in the light, then, is exposing ourselves to God’s light, His purity, and His holiness. That is why 1 John 1:9 gives us the hope that by the confession of our sin—that is, the exposure of our sin—we are forgiven by the faithful and righteous God.

We can say this then, that progress in our spiritual lives is exposing ourselves to God’s light which reveals our darkness. This is our main concern when seeking the progress of the saints. Are they being made more like Christ over time? Some days will be better than others, but do they look more like Christ this year over last year? By God’s grace and work, they should. Our exposure to the knowledge of the beauty and radiance of God will produce changes in our minds that extend to changes in our hearts and work their way out through our hands. The exposure of our sin to the glory of God fuels us to grow and be more like Christ in our knowledge, affections, and actions.

Making Progress with Progress

Okay, so the goal is making progress by being more like Christ. Got it. But what does that have to do with people who are missing the point in Bible study, or that guy still struggling with that one sin, or that person who seems led by fear more than faith? Well, change takes a while. The very fact that we won’t be complete until we are in the presence of the come-again Christ is evidence that we will be consistently changing throughout our life. Change takes time.

Pastors, practice patience with your flock. You didn’t come to the place you are quickly, but the Lord had to mold you and make you into a qualified man over time. Patiently shepherd the flock for their long-term growth, not short-term. For the men that don’t get the main point of the text, be patient with them and help them see how to find it. Show them how to faithfully apply Christ to those texts. Expose them to the glory of God’s inexhaustible light in Christ through the study of Scripture. For the guy still struggling with that one sin, teach him of the delight and satisfaction found in Christ alone. Help him get his eyes focused on Christ and prepare for when distractions would call his attention away from Christ. For the person led by fear, call them to trust the Lord in a way that recognizes their fear but doesn’t allow them to continue living in it. And when a new fear arises, do the same thing again.

Eventually, those in Christ will produce fruit. Fruit production isn’t quick. The seed takes time to take root, sprout, and then grow into a fruit-bearing tree. Then we must wait for the fruit to be ready to eat. In a similar way, when we push for progress instead of complete change in a person, we are allowing the fruit to grow with best results. If we demand someone to produce fruit upon our first talking to them, then the truth we speak may not take root in them. Plant the truth that needs to be said, and let it take root in their mind, sprout in their heart, and then produce fruit from their hands. Gospel change looks to the process of being conformed to the truth, not forced into a mold. Let us be patient and witness the life-changing work of God. Let us watch as God does His work and brings His people to completion.



The Shadow of the Son

Life begins with light.

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day” (Gen. 1:1–5).

Scripture’s central message is God’s salvation of humankind through the life, death, and resurrection of His Son. Scripture unveils this dazzling mystery by its unfolding proclamation of who God is and what He does. And the first of His works that it records is this: He created light.

If God gave us His Word to reveal Himself and to guide us to Him for eternal life, then what does He show us about Himself by starting off the story telling us that He created light?

He Is Supremely Powerful.

Light is the first created thing, and it obeys God immediately. In fact, its obedience is inseparable from its coming into existence. When God commands light to be, it does.

Existence follows His command. His words give reality and being, bringing to life what did not previously exist. No one else has this power.

Light’s obedience to God’s command reveals the magnitude of His authority. His command brings effect. At His command, light comes to be at a speed of 186,000 miles per second. In the first instant of history, God creates, and what He creates obeys Him, magnificently displaying His power, deity, and indisputable worthiness of all the obedience and honor in the universe.

He Marks the Bounds of History.

It’s been said that the first three days of God’s creative work could be broadly described as His creating spaces, while the last few days could be broadly described as His filling those spaces.[1]

In His first act of creation, God creates the space for time by creating light. By light’s presence and absence—day and night—He separates time from time and marks the space which history has filled, and will fill, from the first day to the last. Such governance reveals that He is eternal. Light and dark, the rising and setting of the sun, the changing of days, the passage of time—all depend on His existence before them.

He Intends to Be Known by His Creatures.

Light reveals. By it, we see everything else that God made. Moreover, many of the things that God made depend on light for their life: “plants yielding seed” and “trees bearing fruit” and the array of living creatures who depend on these for food.[2]

God’s Word says, “His invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made” (Rom. 1:20).

It is impossible for the human eye to see without light. The fact that light existed before any human eye shows God’s desire to be known. He wanted to be perceived by His image-bearers in the things that He would make. From the instant God breathed life into Adam and the man’s eyes opened upon the trees of the garden and the livestock of the fields, he was perceiving the eternal power of the One who made them all.

He Is the True Light.

As a created thing, light reveals God’s attributes. Opening the story of history as the first of God’s creations, it shines a spotlight on the One whom the whole story is about.

Jesus.

The One who brought all creation into existence and “upholds the universe by the word of His power.”[3]

The One who existed before all time.[4]

The One who reveals every one of God’s attributes, for He is God Himself, “the image of the invisible God” and “the exact imprint of His nature.”[5]

In becoming man, this Light obeyed God, His Father, perfectly.

This Light is the first and last, the center and border of history, who reigned before the beginning and whose glory will replace lamp and sun on the final Day, dissolving night and dark.[6]

This Light revealed the fullness of God’s eternal power and divine attributes in His sinless life, sacrificial death, and glorious resurrection for the salvation of sinners.

If you see Him, you see God.[7]

Created light—in all it reveals—is but a shadow of the Son.

Grace Upon Grace

“The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God….from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace” (John 1:9–12, 16). 

By creating light on the first day, God revealed His glory in multi-faceted brilliance to every atom of creation. His intention to be seen is good news. For, as the other five days of creation display in full color, every good thing comes from Him. If anything in creation is good, how much better must its source be? How much more sublime to know Him?

Because He is so good, He cannot accept our sin. Because He is so good, He gave His Son to atone for our sin. Though we rebelled against Him, He shone in our darkness, and into our very hearts gives “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”[8]

May we open our eyes to this Light and live.

Author’s note: I am thankful for the women of Liberty Baptist Church with whom I first enjoyed these reflections during our spring 2024 discipleship group.

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[1] See Jen Wilkin, “Week Three: Six Days and a Rest,” God of Creation: A Study of Genesis 1–11 (Brentwood, TN: Lifeway Press, 2017). Wilkin addresses this point in the week 3 teaching video (www.lifeway.com/godofcreation). I also heard this observation from others before I encountered it in Wilkin’s study.

[2] Gen. 1:11–12, 24–30.

[3] Heb. 1:3; cf. Col. 1:16.

[4] Jude 25.

[5] Col. 1:15; Heb. 1:3.

[6] Rev. 22:5, 13.

[7] John 14:9.

[8] 2 Cor. 4:6.



Leading a Church Without Losing Your Soul

A few years into ministry, I read these words from a famous pastor: “I had become a full-time minister and a part-time Christian.”

Even as a twenty-something still fresh with the excitement of my first pastoral assignment, I could relate.

Prior to ministry, you imagine that the inertia of pastoral life will drive you joyfully into deep communion with Jesus. But it doesn’t take long to realize how wrong that idealism is. 

Hebrews 2:1 tells us, “We must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it.” Every Christian faces the temptation and inclination to drift.

Even—or perhaps, especially—pastors. 

Do you mainly use Scripture for preparing studies or providing answers for other people? Is prayer a routine way to open or close meetings? Are memories of passionate pursuit of Christ in the distant past? Is the sin of others more disappointing than your own sin? Do you feel like a full-time pastor but a part-time Christian? 

Questions like these can help diagnose whether your soul is adrift. 

The good news is that it’s possible to plant a church or lead a dynamic ministry without losing your soul. But it will take intentional focus and good habits. 

Now, more than 20 years into pastoral leadership, I’m more committed than ever to not losing my soul. Below are some strategies to help any pastor who wants to keep his soul.

  1. Connect Regularly with God | Before you were a pastor, you were a Christian. Something about Jesus electrified you. You’d joyfully linger in His presence, amazed by His grace. This relationship you had with God made you want to serve Him even more. So keep cultivating your relationship with God—not only to be a good pastor, but to be a joyful Christian.
  2. Prioritize Solitude | My favorite definition of solitude is from Cal Newport: “time spent free from the input of other minds.” In other words, if you’re alone but listening to a podcast, it’s not solitude. Solitude gives you space to relax in God’s presence and tune your heart to His grace.
  3. Rigorously Practice Weekly Sabbath | The seasons where I’ve sensed the beginning of burnout or cynicism have one thing in common: a failure of practicing sabbath. Take one day a week where you rest to pray, play, and intentionally lay down any striving or performance.
  4. Spend Time with Friends | In ministry, all your circles overlap. Your workplace, faith community, and friends frequently end up involving the same people. Do what you can to cultivate friendships with people who don’t need you as their pastor. It will be freeing to your soul.
  5. Identify Your Personal Warning Signs and Invite Input | When the dashboard warning lights of life ding, what shows up? Though each of us is different, those who are close to us can see our warning signs. So be on the lookout for these signs of danger, and give trusted people permission to point out areas of concern.
  6. Invest in Counseling | Life and leadership are filled with limits, losses, and emotional wear-and-tear. Having an experienced counselor with some distance from your ministry can help you process these challenges in a healthy way.
  7. Use Every Minute of Vacation | Just like you need a weekly sabbath from ministry, you need some annual breaks and vacation. It’s not lazy to use the time you are given to rest and recalibrate.
  8. Develop Healthy Pressure Release Valves | The pressure of life will come out one way or another, so intentionally decide for it to come out in good ways. Hobbies, time with friends, and exercise are healthy examples of release valves.
  9. Create Sweet Personal and Family Practices for Christmas and Easter | Every Good Friday, I go with my family to a specific park to read the passion story and pray together. On a weekend of intense public ministry, it reminds me that I’m a Christian first.
  10. Don’t Let Other People Decide What Is an “Emergency” | Many pastors exhaust themselves allowing everyone else to control their time and energy. But just because it’s an emergency to somebody else doesn’t mean it should be to you.
  11. Regularly Practice Retreat Days | Every few months, set aside a day or half-day to zoom out, take inventory on your life and ministry, and invest in your soul. These days provide an opportunity to break the cycle of reacting and, instead, lead yourself intentionally.
  12. Create a Folder of Ministry Implosion Stories | Sadly, many pastors fall. Stories of sin and scandal abound. When these stories happen, take note. When the fallen pastor writes a letter of resignation or an elder board issues a statement, copy and paste it into a file on your computer. Read these every year as a way to warn yourself of the dangers of losing your soul.
  13. Develop a Plan for Intentional Sabbaticals | Sabbaticals are a long-held best-practice for long-term sustainable ministry. Done well, sabbaticals cultivate health for you, your family, and your church.
  14. Structure Your Week with Margin | You can’t keep your soul if you constantly drive your engine at the red-line limit. Healthy pastors must build weekly rhythms and schedule that contain margin so that when inevitable surprises and crises come, they can handle them.
  15. Put “Developing Leaders” on Your Job Description | To build a church ministry that isn’t resting on your shoulders alone, you must develop and empower other leaders. As Jethro rebuked Moses, “You and the people with you will certainly wear yourselves out, for the thing is too heavy for you. You are not able to do it alone” (Exod. 18:18). Pouring into leaders is essential for sustainable ministry.

You don’t have to lose your soul. Fight to keep it. It will be worth it.



Praying Psalm 62 with Charles Spurgeon

“If God is real, I’m sure He’s too busy to care about the details of my life.” A friend said this to me years ago with exasperation and resignation in his voice. Perhaps you’ve heard some version of this yourself. Maybe you’ve even heard it inside the church. “You should only pray for really big things, like God’s glory among the nations—don’t pray for little things like a good parking spot.”

These statements reflect a deeper question: Can we really approach God with confidence? Can we actually bring Him our smallest, most earthly requests? There’s a Psalm just for these questions, and the 19th-century preacher Charles Spurgeon helps us discover its riches.

How to Pray from the Heart

There are many Psalms that invite us to bring ourselves honestly and completely before God. But in my opinion, Psalm 62 is the most powerful of them all.

David opens his song with a word of praise, as he often does: “Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him” (v. 1, NIV). As soon as he praises God like this, though, David reaches the purpose of his prayer. “How long will you assault me? Would all of you throw me down—this leaning wall, this tottering fence?” (v. 3).

What a vibrant illustration of David’s situation. His enemies are after him. They’re cursing him and intending to knock him down from his royal position. He feels like a leaning wall, a broken-down fence. At any moment, he could come collapsing down.

No doubt, you’ve felt like this before. You know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed with life. Work is too much, people are demanding, and someone seems out to get you. It feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, and you’re not sure if anyone can help you. Where do we go with all this pressure and fear?

David knows he can approach God with all this. It’s not too much for God. David can come directly to the Lord of Hosts with his immediate needs and urgent requests. He continues:

“Yes, my soul, find rest in God;

my hope comes from him.

Trust in him at all times, you people;

pour out your hearts to him,

for God is our refuge” (v. 8, emphasis added).

Here, the king vacillates between preaching to his own heart and calling Israel to trust in the Lord. “Rest in God!” he tells his own soul. “Trust in him at all times, you people!” he adds. And he speaks to us—all of us in our own desperate situations wondering if we can bring our grandest and most insignificant requests to an almighty God. David says, “Pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.” Centuries after David, Jeremiah picks up his phrase, writing, “Pour out your hearts like water in the presence of the Lord,” in calling Israel to repentance in Lamentations 2:19.

Now, this is a beautiful phrase: Pour out your hearts to God. It’s not hard to understand, but if we can fully internalize its powerful invitation, it will truly transform our prayer lives. And there’s a sure guide to help us there.

Charles Spurgeon on True Prayer

In his majestic, three-volume Treasury of David, Charles Spurgeon meditates on this phrase for no small amount of time. What does it mean to pour out our hearts? And how can we know we can do this? Spurgeon writes:

You to whom his love is revealed, reveal yourselves to him. His heart is set on you, lay bare your hearts to him. Turn the vessel of your soul upside down in his secret presence, and let your inmost thoughts, desires, sorrows, and sins be poured out like water. Hide nothing from him, for you can hide nothing. To the Lord, unburden your soul… To keep our griefs to ourselves is to hoard up wretchedness. The stream will swell and rage if you dam it up; give it a clear course, and it leaps along and creates no alarm.[1]

The Psalms are God’s way of saying, “Don’t make sure you sanitize your prayers.” You can come to God just as you are. Your prayers can’t be too honest for God; He knows what’s going on in your heart already.

Give the Lord your everything; He can handle it. We don’t have to hold it all together and clean ourselves up. We don’t have to do this life in our own strength. God wants to give us His joy, peace, and strength. And He desires to pour these gifts into us through prayer. Our job is to empty ourselves first, so that we might have ample room to receive them.

But why do the psalmist and prophet call us to pour out our hearts like water? Spurgeon reflects:

Pour [your heart] out as water. Not as milk, whose color remains. Not as wine, whose savor remains. Not as honey, whose taste remains. But as water, of which, when it is poured out, nothing remains. So let sin be poured out of the heart, that no color of it may remain in external marks, no savor in our words, no taste in our affections.[2]

David and Jeremiah (and Spurgeon) want to show us something of the nature of our prayers. Rather than a slow, careful reciting of words, our prayers can be the natural, unfiltered overflow of our hearts and minds. When we are bursting at the seams with the worries and demands of this life, God has given us a release valve. When we are full, we can pour out.

We’re not just pouring out prayers though; we’re pouring out our very hearts. Our hearts can remain largely hidden from us. We barely understand why we do what we do and why certain things just poured out of our mouths. Prayer is a way of discovering our own hearts. As we give our hearts to God in prayer, we are giving Him the core and essence of our lives. We are giving ourselves completely to Him. Spurgeon adds:

If you fear lest there remain anything in your heart not poured forth, bring the whole heart, and cast it before the eyes of the Lord, and sacrifice it to him, that he may create a new heart in thee.[3]

This is the image God has chosen to give us for our praying lives. Just pour it out. Let it flow. Don’t hold back. Spills and messes will happen, and there will be days when you feel like a puddle on the floor. But God’s welcome is simple: Pour out your heart.

God Pours Out, Too

Beautifully, there’s another side to this. When we pour out, God pours out on us, too. God’s blessing also flows like water. He is the God of abundance and overflow. As the self-existent source and replenisher of life, our Father pours out His own goodness and peace, even as we pour out our hearts like water before Him.

Sound too good to be true? Romans 5:5 promises, “God’s love has been poured out into our hearts by his Holy Spirit.

God’s blessing being poured into us happens simultaneously to our pouring out our hearts in His presence. The weak pouring out anxiousness, confusion, and need, and the strong pouring out love, strength, and blessing in response—all like water.

Our hearts were made to be poured out. Your ever-loving Father waits for you to bring all your rants and ramblings to Him. Spurgeon concludes,

Sympathy we need, and if we unload our hearts at Jesus’ feet, we shall obtain a sympathy as practical as it is sincere, as consolatory as it is ennobling.[4]

This, Spurgeon knew, is the essence of prayer: Pour out your heart to God, and He will pour His joy, strength, and love back into you. Amen and amen.

__________

[1] Charles Spurgeon, The Treasury of David: Volume 2, 51.

[2] Spurgeon, 58.

[3] Spurgeon, 58.

[4] Spurgeon, 58.

Editor’s note: For more encouragement in prayer, see Jeremy Linneman’s forthcoming book Pour Out Your Heart: Discovering Joy, Strength, and Intimacy with God through Prayeravailable this March from B&H Publishing.



The Pastor As Host

Editor’s note: This article is part three of a four-part series. Access the full series here.

I suggested in the first entry in this series that a covenantal framework can be identified in the Lord’s hospitality in Exodus 24. Though Jesus’s hospitality to the eleven in John 21 does not have the same covenantal framework, in both passages, God effectively hosts a select figure to train him for ministry leadership: Moses for Israel and Peter for the apostles.

In the second entry, I noted that hospitality is a ministry of all kinds of leaders in Scripture. And they undertake this ministry with urgency. Abraham (Gen. 19), David (2 Sam. 9), and the public official Publius of Malta (Acts 28:1–10) extend hospitality with respect to their leadership positions.

In this third entry, I want to explore Paul’s statement that pastors must be hospitable. In the local church, pastoral hospitality reflects God’s care for the needy and establishes an environment for supplying and training ministry leaders. The qualifications for pastoral leadership express a man’s relational aptitude for leading a local church. Whether we consider the list Paul writes in 1 Timothy 3:1–7 or Titus 1:5–9, each quality more or less has in view a man’s ability to reflect God’s character as he relates with people inside and outside the church.

The pastor must reflect God in his closest relationships. He must husband his wife (1 Tim. 3:2; Titus 1:6a) and manage his household well (1 Tim. 3:4–5; Titus 1:6b). The pastor must also display God’s character in the more extended relationships of his life. He must be hospitable, a lover of strangers and outsiders (1 Tim. 3:2; Titus 1:8).

When studying the pastoral qualifications listed in 1 Timothy 3:1–7 or Titus 1:5–9, we must recognize two ways they might become fodder for eisegesis. First, we must remember that no one pastoral qualification functions in isolation. Relational aptitude functions as the hub into which these qualities fit as spokes. In aggregate, these features of a man’s life position him to reflect God as he leads the church. Second, the lists of qualifications should not be isolated from Paul’s flow of thought in 1 Timothy and Titus. These qualifications for pastors contribute to Paul’s broader portrait of beliefs and behaviors the church must embrace in light of Jesus’s death, resurrection, ascension, and promised return. These qualifications signify the pastor’s character in relation to God and the ministry of the new covenant.

Having identified the conceptual framework of these pastoral qualifications and pitfalls to avoid when interpreting them, we can consider Paul’s statement that the pastor must be hospitable. I identify two reasons why Paul lists hospitality as a qualification for pastoral ministry.

Hospitality Enacts God’s Care to the Needy

In Titus, Paul repeatedly notes the importance of good works. The opponents of the gospel lack good works (1:16). Titus is to be an example of good works (2:7). Believers are to reflect their redemption by being eager to do good works (2:14), ready to do good works in the public sphere as they relate to governing authorities (3:1). Believers are to be careful to devote themselves to good works (3:8). Paul concludes the letter saying, “Let our people learn to devote themselves to good works for pressing needs, so that they will not be unfruitful” (Titus 3:14, CSB).

The good works Paul has in mind would doubtless include caring for one’s own needy family, especially widows (1 Tim. 5:3–16). If a believing widow has no family and finds herself without the means for independent living, to whom might she look for assistance? A pastor’s hospitality and leadership would prove invaluable. Paul’s concern in 1 Timothy 5:3–16 that widows be taken care of reflects God’s demand that His people care for the widow and orphan, stated throughout the Old Testament (e.g., Deut. 24:10–22; Ps. 68:4–6; Jer. 7:3–8) and in James 1:27.

Hospitality is Necessary for Multiplying Ministry Leadership

Hospitality in the local church features prominently in 2 and 3 John. Believers show their faith by welcoming into their homes brothers and sisters who confess Christ, to refresh them and share in their ministries (2 John 9–11; 3 John 5–8). In 3 John 9–10, John condemns Diotrephes for refusing to be hospitable and forbidding believers to host ministers as they travel. Pastors who welcome those who go out to spread the gospel of Jesus’s death and resurrection have the dual effect of meeting the immediate needs of those ministers and modeling hospitality for the church. It may be this kind of ministry that Jesus has in view when He describes hospitality as the fulcrum of judgment in the analogy of the sheep and the goats (Matt. 25:31–46).

I noted that pastoral hospitality should not be understood in isolation from Paul’s broader portrait of ministry in the Pastoral Epistles. One pastoral task Paul notes repeatedly is training leaders who will join in and carry out new covenant ministry. Timothy is to labor in training those who will lead the church (1 Tim. 4:11–16). He is to deal with church elders justly, patiently affirming them to the pastoral office (1 Tim. 5:17–22). Paul tells Timothy in 2 Timothy 2:2, “What you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses, commit to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.” One unique feature of pastoral hospitality is that it provides a relational atmosphere for training those who will join in ministry leadership. Pastoral hospitality thus reflects the Lord’s hospitality to Moses and Israel’s leaders in Exodus 24 and Jesus’s hospitality to Peter and the disciples in John 21.

Hope for Those Hesitant to Host

We should recognize that pastors are not the only church members who strengthen the church through hospitality. Paul urges the Romans to pursue hospitality (Rom. 12:13), and Peter commands the churches in view in 1 Peter to be hospitable without complaining (1 Pet. 4:9).

While the lists of qualifications in 1 Timothy 3:1–7 and Titus 1:5–9 filter those who are not called, they also guide men who are. And every man called to shepherd God’s people is growing on a spectrum of consistency in these characteristics. If you need to grow in hospitality, I first suggest lowering your expectations regarding the formal details of the event itself. The meal and setting need not be extravagant. Simple, moderate food, drink, and environment foster the best atmosphere for pastoral hospitality. Second, develop a specific prayer list for those you want to host. Who around you is needy? Who in your sphere of influence does God seem to be calling to leadership? Pray for them daily for a week and then make the invite. God will give you courage and prepare them to hear from you. Finally, chat with other leaders about your need to grow as a host. Heed their counsel on how to be a hospitable man, not just a meal or event host. Let them prune away selfishness and broaden your love for God and the Church.



Gaslighting Job

“It sort of seems like God is gaslighting Job?”

A friend of mine raised this concern after I preached on Job 38–41. I hadn’t considered the question in my sermon prep, but especially in our therapized and therapeutic culture, it’s worth considering. 

I’d like to look at the question in three phases. First, we’ll broadly consider the pastoral implications of reading clinical mental health dynamics into the Scriptures. Second, we’ll consider what exactly gaslighting is and how one could in good faith map the concept onto what God does at the end of Job. And, third, we’ll take a fresh look at God’s speeches in Job and consider how the label “gaslighting” fails to summarize Job’s encounter with God.

Pastoral Considerations

Living in the context of what Philip Rieff called The Triumph of the Therapeutic, followers of Jesus need to be aware of a few key dynamics.

First, relational and power dynamics are top of mind for young Bible readers. From labeling biblical characters as “toxic” to reading between the lines to look for internal motivations that don’t show up in the text, people will encounter the stories of Scripture as though they are watching a counseling session unfold. One of the things that, for C.S. Lewis, makes something a children’s story is the “absence of a close psychology.” Modern adult readers will intuitively supply a close psychology even when one isn’t offered in the text.

Second, in biblical application and in preaching, it’ll be tempting to speak far beyond the Scriptures in this arena to tickle the ears of listeners. There is a lot we might want from Scripture that it doesn’t give us; like Job, we must learn to perceive God’s silence as God’s wisdom.

Third, we ought to demonstrate awareness of pop-psychological thought processes. The next generation is incredibly online, and pastors have two options for how to minister into that arena: be incredibly online themselves, or be immersed in relationships with people who are incredibly online and learn from them. The overwhelming majority of people we are seeking to evangelize are people with a digitized sense of self. If we can’t speak their language, we’ll fail to contextualize.

This doesn’t mean we adopt the assumptions that come with the pop-therapeutic worldview. But if we can’t say, “You’ve heard it said, but I say unto you,” we can’t preach like Jesus did. That being said, let’s look at the terrifying encounter Job has with God.

The Whirlwind

Gaslighting, an increasingly common term, speaks to the “crazy making” dynamic that exists in some abusive relationships. The term comes from the 1944 movie Gaslight in which a controlling husband makes his new wife doubt her memories and perceptions, over time convincing her that she can’t trust herself and that she’s imagining things.

There are a few elements in the Job narrative that might tempt a good-faith reader to see gaslighting in the way that God deals with the suffering Job. 

First, there is a power imbalance. The show of force God makes in appearing in a whirlwind combined with the overwhelming metaphors for God’s power over the earth, the stars, the Behemoth, and the Leviathan could be read as attempts to silence and stifle rather than engage; who are you to question me, when I can do all these great things?

Second, God seems, at a first read, to ignore the questions Job asks regarding God’s justice and fairness; his real grievances seem dismissed or ignored. God doesn’t answer Job’s questions and instead redirects the conversation toward His own questions and emphasizes Job’s smallness, limited nature, and inability to comprehend God’s infinite activity. Job’s questions are framed as being invalid; who are you to question me, when you don’t have the mental capacity I have?

Third, God withholds key information. Job never learns about the deal God makes with the satan in Job 1. Why does God not tell Job the whole endeavor was a test? That He bet on his righteousness against the evil one and won? How is Job expected to live his life in soberness if God isn’t going to let him have all the facts? Job’s agency seems to be undermined.

If we had a husband interacting with his wife like this, we’d rightly support her and rebuke him. “You’re going to complain about my inattentiveness when I bring the bacon home? You’re going to raise concerns about how I treat the kids when my SAT score was 500 points higher than yours? You’re tracking my location? Mind your own business!” It looks manipulative and demeaning.

So, how are we to answer in defense of the Holy One of Israel?

Job’s Encounter

First, just to get clear on the concept of gaslighting, it’s about making someone question their sanity over time. Someone could be manipulated or lied to in one interaction, but they can’t be gaslit, per se. Gaslighting requires a pattern. The story of Job doesn’t technically meet the criteria for gaslighting in the proper sense. But what about in the sense that Gen Z and the TikTokers use it? In which it’s more of a synonym for manipulation or being sketchy?

God’s presence in the whirlwind isn’t intimidation; it’s revelation. Job is a wisdom book, and the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. Fearing God is about reverence, respect, and mindfulness. When you’re afraid of birds, you’re constantly on the lookout for them. When you’re afraid of God, you’re looking for Him in the nooks and crannies of your life. The whirlwind is powerful and attention-capturing, as is the Lord. Yahweh is revealing Himself in a palpable and compelling way. 

Job’s primary angst and question are not dismissed, but are answered with God’s very presence. Whole chapters of Job are devoted to him wrestling with questions about whether God has abandoned him, whether God can hear him, and whether God will ever answer him. God showing up in the lightning-snow-tornado is God definitively answering, not in words but in deed, Job’s central question: No, I’ve not abandoned you. Yes, I can hear you. And, yes, I’ll respond to your questioning.

God’s response is not a dismissal of Job’s perspective, but a contextualization of his perspective. Job isn’t told “you haven’t suffered” or “your experience isn’t valid” or even “you are wrong.” Job’s speech and conduct are commended and blessed by God. What Job is told is “you are limited.” Job isn’t getting new information here; he’s getting a new experience. “I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you” (Job 42:5).

Job’s questions about God’s justice were rooted in his belief in God’s goodness and the struggle to reconcile that belief with his lived experience of suffering. When Job is captivated by God’s power, he’s able to locate his experience more tangibly in the context of the world which is governed by the God who holds Leviathan’s leash. The incomprehensible power of calamity is as mere pet canary to the Lord. Job “knew” this; now he “knows” it differently.

Job isn’t left questioning his sanity. He’s left in a state of wonder and awe. Recognizing afresh the Over-and-Aboveness of the majesty of God. He levels up his wisdom not because his theology of God has changed but because his proximity to God has changed.

Let’s now consider the argument that God doesn’t tell Job about the bet He placed in letting Satan destroy what was most precious to him. First, in a sense, God does generally tell him what happened behind the scenes; Leviathan, the great agent of chaos, Job is told, is under the control of Yahweh. Yahweh does take ultimate responsibility for all that happens in the cosmos.

Second, God gives Job the perspective he needs to grapple with the reality he’s living in. Job is brought into further alignment with reality, not separated from it like what happens when someone is gaslit. If we are in fact living in God’s world, then awareness of and respect for God’s sovereign providence over all things is sobriety. The fear of the Lord truly is the beginning of wisdom.

Students of the Scriptures

People can’t really help seeing what they initially see or hear when reading the Scriptures. What we bring to the text is our whole selves: our sociological context and our theological assumptions are both a part of that. Yet, the temptation and tendency to see what isn’t there is something we should be conscious of and concerned about as students of the Scriptures. God is not an abuser of Job.

In fact, He’s the opposite. God is good. He invites Job into reality, out of chaos and confusion, and blesses him afresh.

Job’s grief remains, but his crisis of faith dissipates when his core question (“Where is God?”) is answered with God’s very presence.



9 Ways to Help Those Who Are Suffering

In the past month, what have you heard from those you love? Divorce, loneliness, layoffs, cancer, parenting struggles, disappointment, betrayal, conflict? Everyone we love will hurt and suffer. While we feel compassion, we often find ourselves at a loss for what to do. Whether it’s a struggling spouse, a grieving friend, or a hurting member in our church, we want to help, but we’re unsure of the best approach. We walk a fine line between giving people space and showing up, between speaking truth and offering a listening ear. We fear doing or saying the wrong thing. It’s difficult to navigate. So, how do we help those who are suffering? How can we grow in showing up with love and wisdom?

How Does God Want Us Involved with Those Who Are Suffering?

First, consider what God desires for you when you have suffered.

Paul reminds us that God is “the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God” (2 Cor. 1:3–4).

In ALL your affliction, God wants to comfort you.

But what does comfort mean? When we think of comfort, we think of something enveloping—comfort food normally means something dripping in melted cheese, a comfortable blanket surrounds us with its softness, we sink deeply into a comfy chair. These images give us a sense of being surrounded and covered.

This is exactly what God wants to do in your suffering. He wants to totally surround you in His care. He is the God of all comfort.

And this is how He wants us to be involved with others. God’s method is giving comfort to His people and then giving comfort through His people.

What Kind of Comfort Can We Give to Those Who Are Suffering?

As we experience and reflect on all the diverse ways God has comforted us in our suffering, we become equipped to offer the same comfort to others. Consider the variety of ways God has comforted us and how this directs our comfort to others.

  1. Seeing

God: There is no secret pain. You never suffer alone in the dark. God sees your pain (Psalm 31:7), hurt, difficulty, and disappointment. You are not overlooked or ignored. His eyes are on you.

Our call: Distraction and self-concern are easy. Sometimes we are so busy, we miss the suffering of others in front of us. We miss the tear in the eye, the sullen face, or the absence. We must begin by developing eyes to see one another (Phil. 2:4, Prov. 22:9).

  1. Caring

God: God is not apathetic or cold to your pain. When God introduces Himself, one of the main ways He describes Himself is by telling us He is compassionate (Exod. 34:6)!  Jesus wept when He saw the suffering of those He loves. It’s not different for you. He deeply feels your pain and sorrow. He cares (1 Pet. 5:8); He is filled with compassion.

Our call: Our goal shouldn’t simply be to make others feel better (Prov. 25:20); maybe we need to feel worse! We must enter into their pain, weeping with those who weep (Rom. 12:15). We don’t dismiss or offer petty encouragement like saying, “It could be worse,” or “It will all work out.” We start where God does, feeling deeply with compassion (Col. 3:12).

  1. Touching

God: The Bible gives images of God holding on to us (Isa. 41:10), metaphors to convey that God is not distant. And in the incarnation we get more than metaphor. Jesus comes in flesh and often expresses His care for those suffering through physical touch (Mark 8:22). Like a father carrying his child, an affectionate holding of the hand, an encouraging grasp on your shoulder, or the strong hug of a dear friend, God’s hand is on you in your suffering.

Our call: Maybe you have said, “I don’t know what to say.” Sometimes words aren’t sufficient. We are embodied people (Acts 20:36–38). Sometimes we need to let our arms do the speaking and just give a hug, or lay a hand in prayer.

  1. Bringing Joy

God: God doesn’t merely feel bad for us. He wants to actually transform our experience. He brings joy (Psalm 94:19) in the middle of gloom, light in the middle of darkness, and song to our silent suffering.

Our call: People suffering don’t want every conversation to be about the problem or every text to be checking in on them. They still want to have fun, play, and experience joy. Proverbs says a joyful heart is great medicine (Prov. 17:22). Find ways to include your suffering friends in fun activities and conversation.

  1. Praying

God: When you suffer, Jesus is praying for you (Heb. 7:25). He never tells you He will pray and then forgets. He never gets too tired or busy to remember you. When you are at a loss for words and don’t even know what you need to bring before God, Jesus, in His perfect wisdom and love, is interceding on your behalf.

Our call: Talking to God about others may feel unproductive. But by faith we believe God hears and answers prayer (2 Cor. 1:10-11). So, we pray.  It also means that instead of only saying, “I’ll pray for you,” we should pray for one another on the spot. Additionally, when we text and say, “I’m praying,” we should be more specific. We should share what we are praying. Paul often shares the content of his prayers for others (Eph. 1:17-19), and it serves as a great encouragement.

  1. Helping

God: God doesn’t just address our emotions; He tangibly serves and helps us (Psalm 46:1). He cares for the practical needs we have (Matt. 6:8). Jesus healed, fed, and ate with people. Even now, we are told He helps by answering prayers and sending us the Holy Spirit as Helper.

Our call: It might seem spiritual to say, “All I need is God.” But, if by that we mean we are above material things, then we will miss out on how God actually meets our needs. When Paul was alone in prison, he requested help. He didn’t only say, “Pray for me.” He asked for specific things: his books and blanket (2 Tim. 4:13). That may sound like the requests of a preschooler, but the point is that we need tangible expressions of care. Prayer alone is not sufficient. Think how you can lift burdens (Gal. 6:2) by bringing a thoughtful gift, a meal, a coffee, watching kids, cleaning the house, etc. Don’t simply say, “What can I do,” but rather offer specifics by saying, “Let me…”

  1. Speaking

God: God is not silent in our suffering (Psalm 119:50). We need to hear truth in our confusion, encouragement in our despair, and words of hope in our loss. God’s words have given you life to cling to when everything was shaking. His promises have been your refuge. His voice has been your strength. He speaks.

Our call: It is easy to be fearful of speaking. Maybe we have fumbled before, or we just don’t know the right words. But we must not let our fear lead to silence. Wise words can cheer and heal (Prov. 12:18, 25). We can comfort by sharing our compassion (“You are on my heart,” “I’m sorry this is awful”) or by sharing reminders, particularly from the Psalms, of who God is and what He does (“God sees,” “God cares,” “God is with you”).

  1. Being Present

God: Suffering feels isolating and lonely. But you have never truly suffered alone. In whatever valley you’ve traversed, God has been right there with you (Psalm 23:4). Even if the pain stays, so does He. He is present in every hospital room, empty house, car ride, and room with the door locked. He will never leave you nor forsake you.

Our call: We need the presence of others to bring comfort (2 Cor. 7:5–6). Even the apostle Paul pleaded with Timothy to come to him when he was in distress (2 Tim. 4:9–21). Sometimes it’s just being there for a few minutes. Sometimes it may be a red-eye flight. Or it may be a routine, weekly visit. There may be nothing you can do or change, but you can still go, show up, and be with those who are suffering.

  1. Understanding

God: Every pain we have God gets. He truly understands us. He made us and knows our frame. But, even more so, Christ lived through it Himself. He experienced the weakness, hurt, and death of this life. There isn’t a pain we have that He can’t understand (Heb. 2:17–18).

Our call: We may not understand each part someone has gone through, but we can understand the roots. We have all felt basic human experiences, at least in degree. There is no temptation that is not common to man (1 Cor. 10:13). This means we move toward one another; we listen, we ask them to tell us more, or we say, “If you want to talk, I’d love to hear how this is going…”

The More We Receive, the More We Can Give

We must not be self-sufficient in our suffering. Don’t bottle it up, turn away, or seek escape. God wants to comfort you. For every pain you have, His comfort is greater. Come to Him, pour out your heart at all times (Psalm 62:8), and receive from the God of all comfort.

As we do this, we will be filled with comfort to give. God’s comfort is both a gift and a tool. He is training and equipping us for ministry. Everyone we love will go through hurt and suffering, but God has given what you need to help with love and wisdom. You have been comforted and commissioned.



Postmodernism and the Gospel

Editor’s note: This article is part of a two-part series titled “How to Evangelize Postmodernists.” Part one is available here.

How Should We Evaluate Postmodern Beliefs from a Christian Perspective?

What is a faithful and biblical response to postmodernism? In this next section, we will overview some basic responses to postmodern beliefs. Then, in the final section, we will turn to consider how we can effectively evangelize postmodernists. It should be said that these responses are brief, and much more could be said. Indeed, whole books have been written on these topics.[1]

First, postmodernism’s belief about truth is self-defeating. They argue that truth is relative and that there is no such thing as absolute truth. Yet, they are affirming at least one absolute truth when they say that—namely, that there is no such thing as absolute truth. That is an absolute statement. So why do they get to affirm that absolute truth but no others? Additionally, how can they be absolutely certain that there are no absolute truths? Where do they base their certainty to make such a bold claim? Self-defeating arguments should be rejected. We must not forfeit objective truth. We cannot give into the postmodernists’ insistence that there is no such thing as truth in the objective sense. This means that we need to reframe the conversation and not let them set the agenda.

Second, postmodernism’s belief about the subjective nature of language and interpretation needs to be challenged as well. Because of their view of referentialism, which argues that there is no perfect correspondence between words and the meaning that they confer, understanding authorial intent is impossible. A couple of things can be said about this. First, from a more common-sense view, well of course, there is not perfect correspondence between words and the meaning that they confer. But does that really mean that it is impossible to truly understand what one intended by what they said or wrote? From a basic sense, that appears to be a dramatic overstatement. If I received a letter from the government telling me that I owe thousands of dollars in back taxes, I am can very well discern the government’s intention in that letter. In fact, if I ignore what they intended, I could well end up in jail!

Secondly, those who argue for this view expect that you will be able to track the words they use in the way they use them to rightly understand what they are saying. They cannot argue for this viewpoint any other way than by using language to communicate their intended meaning. As Norman Geisler said when he critiqued Derrida, “The sentences conveying his view would have no meaning on a conventionalist theory of meaning. In short, he appears to have left himself no ground to stand on–even to express his own view.”[2] To give a practical example of this, I want to cite a rather lengthy example from D. A. Carson’s life that he talks about in his book The Gagging of God. He says:

A few years ago, I was teaching an evening course on hermeneutics, a course jointly offered by several of the seminaries in the Chicago area. Not very successfully, I was trying to set out both what could be learned from the new hermeneutic, and where the discipline was likely to lead one astray. In particular, I was insisting that true knowledge is possible, even to finite, culture-bound creatures. A doctoral student from another seminary waited patiently through two or three hours of lectures, and then quietly protested that she did not think I was escaping from the dreaded positivism of the nineteenth century. Deeper appreciation for the ambiguities of language, the limits of our understanding, the uniqueness of each individual, and the social nature of knowledge would surely drive me to a more positive assessment of the new hermeneutic. I tried to defend my position, but I was quite unable to persuade her. Finally, in a moment of sheer intellectual perversity on my part, I joyfully exclaimed, “Ah, now I think I see what you are saying. You are using delicious irony to affirm the objectivity of truth.” The lady was not amused. “That is exactly what I am not saying,” she protested with some heat, and she laid out her position again. I clasped my hands in enthusiasm and told her how delighted I was to find someone using irony so cleverly in order to affirm the possibility of objective knowledge. Her answer was more heated, but along the same lines as her first reply. I believe she also accused me of twisting what she was saying. I told her I thought it was marvelous that she should add emotion to her irony all to the purpose of exposing the futility of extreme relativism, thereby affirming truths objectivity. Not surprisingly, she exploded in real anger, and accused me of a lot of unmentionable things. When she finally cooled down, I said, rather quietly, “But this is how I am reading you.” Of course, she saw what I was getting at immediately, and sputtered out like a spent candle. She simply did not know what to say. My example was artificial, of course, since I only pretended to read her in a certain way, but what I did was sufficient to prove the point I was trying to make to her. “You are a deconstructionist,” I told her, “but you expect me to interpret your words aright. More precisely, you are upset because I seem to be divorcing the meaning I claim to see in your words from your intent. Thus, implicitly you affirm the link between text and authorial intent. I have never read a deconstructionist who would be pleased if a reviewer misinterpreted his or her work: thus in practice deconstructionists implicitly link their own texts with their own intentions. I simply want the same courtesy extended to Paul.[3]

Third, we should push back on postmoderns’ insistence that all metanarratives are equal. Are they really? Think about it for a moment. Is a metanarrative that promotes human flourishing and human dignity really on par with one that dehumanizes some people and treats them harshly? Think about Nazi Germany, where the vast majority of Germans agreed with their wicked leaders about the triumph of the Aryan race. Is that metanarrative truly moral and “okay”? Many of those people believed what they were taught was their “truth.” Who are you to say that Hitler was actually evil? And on and on we could go pointing out the absurdity of this belief. No, there is an objective nature to how we evaluate cultures and beliefs, and it comes from God Himself and what He has revealed in His Word. Listen to the way that D. H. K. Hilborn describes this and even expands upon what I have said:

More fundamentally, of course, it is hard to see how orthodox Christian theology could disavow metanarrative as such, since this would seem to require the denial of a divine “author” or “creator” distinct from the world—a Word who gives ultimate meaning to our words. The gospel of salvation through Jesus Christ is in this sense surely the “story which explains our stories” (John 4:29). Then again, it is a story which subverts the claims of other “grand stories”, because far from representing a malign “bid for power”, it has as its heart an act of radical, loving renunciation…It is precisely in the metanarrative of his atoning death that Jesus challenges the necessary postmodern identification of “grand stories” with totalization and tyranny, for here the metanarrative turns on a divestment of power in which the Lord of heaven and earth comes “not to be served but to serve”, and in which the bringer of abundant life sacrifices his own life as a “ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).[4]

In other words, most postmodernists disavow metanarratives because they think that they are power grabs that lead to oppression. Yet, in the true metanarrative from the Bible, the Lord of all humbles Himself and takes on humanity to redeem His people. As Paul so eloquently says of Jesus in Philippians 2:6–8, “who, existing in the form of God, did not consider equality with God as something to be exploited. Instead, he emptied himself by assuming the form of a servant, taking on the likeness of humanity. And when he had come as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even to death on a cross.”

Fourth, we should challenge some postmodernists’ desire to mix and match spiritual preferences. Granted, some postmodernists are atheistic, but others are open to a self-styled spirituality where they get to pick and choose what sounds good to them. Functionally, they create a God in their own image. They choose a little of this and a little of that. They like a little Jesus and a little Buddha as well. They like certain aspects of Hinduism with just a touch of Islam on top. But we must emphasize that this subjectivism has no authority behind it and is unfaithful to the religions from which it pulls. I would venture to guess that most postmodernists have not spent extensive time actually studying the religions they claim to pick and choose from. If they did, they would see that most of the major religions make exclusive truth claims about themselves. Meaning, they are not simply offering a way; they believe they are offering the way or the truth. As you know, this is certainly true for Christianity. So, we should emphasize what Jesus believed and said about Himself. For example, in John 14:6 He said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Notice that this understanding contradicts Islam which says that Jesus is a mere prophet of Allah. Or how Judaism says that He was a false prophet. Or how Hinduism says that He is an avatar of Brahman. It makes no sense to try to combine these exclusive truth claims about Jesus. He cannot be A and non-A at the same time and in the same way. That would violate the law of non-contradiction. Thus, it is not intellectually honest to cherry-pick various aspects from multiple religions in order to form a spirituality that you are comfortable with. Additionally, postmodernist authors expect you to interpret their writings in a particular way as we saw above. Therefore, we should push them to show the same dignity and respect to other religious texts. They are not free to make them say what they want without respect to authorial intent. If they do, then they are intellectually dishonest and inconstant, and their position is self-defeating. Thus, it should not be respected as viable. We must push these postmodernists to see the self-contradictory nature of their spirituality and present them with the truth of what Jesus actually said about Himself.

Fifth and finally, we must challenge postmoderns on the issue of morality. Is morality really determined by one’s community? To return to Nazi Germany, was what they did in the Holocaust not truly evil because their entire community agreed to it? If it was evil, why so? On what grounds does a postmodernist have to declare what they did wrong? Furthermore, on what grounds does a postmodernist have to say anything is evil and anything is good? Listen to the way Groothuis describes this point: “If evil is deconstructed into incommensurate language games, perspectives and final vocabularies, no evil remains–but the evil of its attempted banishment and the haunting impression that something is deeply amiss.”[5] If it is solely determined by each community, then what happens when those communal beliefs conflict and contradict one another? What happens when those beliefs conflict in the same society? Say you have one community in the same country that believes one thing and another community that believes something contrary; who is to say which view is right morally speaking, especially when it affects the laws of the land? Who gets to make those decisions? This string of questions reveals that without an objective moral law giver (i.e., the Creator God), morality is subjective, and no one truly wants to live in a morally subjective universe. Not me and not the postmodernists either.

How Can We Effectively Evangelize Postmoderns?

Having learned about postmodernism, how can we effectively evangelize people who are beholden to the beliefs of postmodernity? In a humorous account, apologist Douglas Groothuis demonstrates how not to do it. He reimagines Paul’s Mars Hill encounter (Acts 17) to address postmodernists, when he writes:

People of Postmodernity, I can see you speak in many language games and are interested in diverse spiritualities. I have observed your pluralistic religious discourse and the fact that you use many final vocabularies. I have seen your celebration of the death of objective truth and the eclipse of metanarratives, and I declare to you that you are right. As one of your own has said, “We are suspicious of all metanarratives.” What you have already said, I will reaffirm to you with a slightly different spin.

We have left modernity behind as a bad dream. We deny its rationalism, objectivism and intellectual arrogance. Instead of this, we affirm the Christian community, which professes that God is the strand that unites our web of belief. We have our own manner of interpreting the world and using language that we call you to adopt for yourself. We give you no argument for the existence of God, since natural theology is simply rationalistic hubris. We are not interested in metaphysics but in discipleship.

For us, Jesus is Lord. That is how we speak. We act that way, too; it’s important to us. And although we cannot appeal to any evidence outside our own communal beliefs and tradition, we believe that God is in control of our narrative. We ask you to join our language game. Please. Since it is impossible to give you any independent evidence for our use of language, or to appeal to hard facts, we simply declare this to be our truth. It can become your truth as well, if you join up. Jesus does not call you to believe propositions but to follow him. You really can’t understand what we’re talking about until you join up. But after that, it will be much clearer. Trust us. In our way of speaking, God is calling everyone everywhere to change his or her language game, to appropriate a new discourse and to redescribe reality one more time. We speak such that the resurrection of Jesus is the crucial item in our final vocabulary. We hope you will learn to speak this way, as well.[6]

As I hope you might have anticipated, this will not do. But how can we effectively evangelize postmodernists? Here are a few things to keep in mind.

First, remember that postmodernists prize authenticity. The question for them is not “Is this true?” but rather, “How does this make you feel?” or “Does it really affect your life?” For us who are seeking to engage postmoderns, we must be careful not to be hypocrites. Hypocrisy will shut doors to the postmodern world. Because of this, cold-call evangelism can be harder with postmoderns. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do cold-call evangelism, but we should remember that relationships are vital to postmodernists. In their mind, it is only through a relationship that one can see that you are genuine and not a hypocrite who is simply seeking to control people by sharing your metanarrative. The more people can see your love and hospitality, the more they might be willing to hear you share the good news of Jesus Christ. Commenting on using hospitality as a means to open doors for evangelism with postmoderns, Sam Chan writes:

Hospitality is also a powerful apologetic tool. Often we have to defend questions such as, “Why are Christians so hypocritical?” or, “Why are Christians homophobic?” We can give good explanations for why Christians are (or are not) hypocritical. And we can try to give good examples for why Christians are not homophobic. But more often than not, our friends aren’t listening to our answers because their minds are already made up. But if we have them over to our homes, then it is hard for them to accuse Christians of being hypocritical when they’re enjoying a meal with us. And if we’re inviting our gay friends for dinner, then it’s hard for them to argue that we’re homophobic. We’re obviously not homophobic if we’re opening our homes to gays for a meal.[7]

Chan later describes how he thinks Christians can change their evangelistic strategy to postmoderns. For moderns, the logic typically goes:

“Truth, Believe, Praxis.

  • This is true.
  • If it’s true, then you must believe
  • If you believe it, now you must live

But with postmoderns, I believe a better pedagogical sequence is:

Praxis, Belief, Truth

  • The Christian life is livable.
  • If it’s livable, then it’s also believable.
  • If it’s believable, then it’s also true.”[8]

Whether or not you choose to adopt all that Chan says is up to you. But adjusting your strategy in light of what postmodernists believe could prove to be helpful.

Second, use your testimony in your Gospel presentation. As has been said, postmodernists are not as concerned with whether or not something is true. But they may be persuaded by the fact that the Gospel has changed your life. Once again, this might demonstrate to them that the Gospel works, i.e., it changed your life. Remember that postmoderns are fundamentally pragmatic. Because truth is not paramount to them, they primarily care about what works. To be clear, I am not equating your testimony with sharing the Gospel. Those are two different things. In fact, I’d encourage you to share the Gospel compellingly by using Scripture, and then get to your testimony and how Jesus has changed your life. But implementing your testimony in your evangelistic strategy to postmoderns is winsome.

Third, at the end of the day, don’t be intimidated by postmodernists. Yes, we should learn how to best evangelize them. Yes, we should learn what they believe so that we can have more fruitful interactions with them. Yes, we should think of creative ways to engage them. But, when all things are said and done, we must simply proclaim the Gospel. If you get overwhelmed with all the arguments about what they believe and how to best respond to them, you can almost never go wrong with just starting a simple conversation about who Jesus is and how He has changed your life. After all, it is the Gospel that is the power of God for salvation (Rom. 1:16).

I want to leave you with Paul’s words from 1 Corinthians 1:18–24:

For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but it is the power of God to us who are being saved. For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and I will set aside the intelligence of the intelligent. Where is the one who is wise? Where is the teacher of the law? Where is the debater of this age? Hasn’t God made the world’s wisdom foolish? For since, in God’s wisdom, the world did not know God through wisdom, God was pleased to save those who believe through the foolishness of what is preached. For the Jews ask for signs and the Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles. Yet to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God, because God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.

As you seek to engage postmodernists with the truth of Jesus Christ, trust that God is with you, and that He will use you to draw people to Himself. You don’t have to have everything figured out; all you have to do is be faithful.

__________

[1] See Gagging of God, Truth Decay, and Is There a Meaning in This Text.

[2] Norman Geisler, Baker Encyclopedia of Christian Apologetics, 194.

[3] D. A. Carson, The Gagging of God, 102-103.

[4] D. H. K. Hilborn, “Postmodernism,” in New Dictionary of Theology: Historical and Systematic, ed. Martin Davie et al. (London; Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press; InterVarsity Press, 2016), 692–693.

[5] Douglas Groothuis, Truth Decay, 171.

[6] Groothuis, Truth Decay, 161-162.

[7] Sam Chan, Evangelism in a Skeptical World, 118.

[8] Chan, Evangelism in a Skeptical World, 125.



A Bible for the People

Editor’s note: Content taken from The Story of Martin Luther by Jared Kennedy, ©2024. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, crossway.org. Available for purchase from Crossway and where Christian books are sold.

Prince Frederick of Wittenberg did not want his university’s best professor to be killed, but he knew there was a real threat. Even before Martin had gone to Worms, Prince Frederick already guessed that he would be condemned by the emperor.

After the trial, Martin was given twenty-one days to change his mind. If he didn’t recant, his books were to be burned, and he was to be turned over to the authorities right away. If Martin was going to survive this verdict, he would need his prince’s help. So Frederick made a plan.

Martin and his friends left Worms and traveled east toward home in Wittenberg. When they came near the woods outside the village of Eisenach, they were suddenly surrounded.

A group of men on horseback drew their swords, and one demanded, “Where’s Martin Luther?”

Before one of Martin’s friends could answer, another horseman grabbed Martin by his cloak and threw him to the ground. The kidnappers put Martin on the back of one of their horses and immediately darted off into the woods.

Most people thought Martin had been killed, but Prince Frederick had arranged the “kidnapping” to keep Martin safe. Martin was held in protective custody at Wartburg Castle (nicknamed “the Wartburg”), a tall, stone castle that looms high above the wooded hills of the Thuringian Forest. Martin hid in the dark, gloomy fortress for almost ten months.

As long as Martin was at the Wartburg, the pope and the emperor’s officials couldn’t find him. But Martin had other enemies. Ephesians 6:12 says, “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against . . . the spiritual forces of evil.” Alone in the castle tower, the devil’s accusations filled Martin’s mind: Are you the only wise person? Has the church in so many centuries gone wrong? What if you are wrong about justification? What if you are taking many people with you to hell?

The old storm in Martin’s heart returned. He was depressed and couldn’t sleep. Then he remembered Dr. Staupitz’s advice to hold on to Christ, to stop thinking about himself, and to serve God’s people. He remembered his mentor’s words, “You will be a teacher of the Bible.”

What better way to teach God’s word than to give the German people a Bible that they could read in their own language? There had been German Bible translations before Martin, but these older versions were difficult for regular people to read. What was the point in using fancy and complicated words that couldn’t be understood? Martin told his friend George Spalatin, “Give us simple words and not those of the court or castle, for this book should be famous for its simplicity.”

To make his translation, Martin studied hard to understand a Bible passage’s meaning. He also looked at each verse and thought, How would a German person say something like that? Martin wrestled, for example, with Luke 1:28, where the angel Gabriel greeted Mary and announced that she was pregnant with baby Jesus. Some Bible versions had translated his words, “Hail Mary, full of grace.” Martin thought this was confusing: “A German can talk about a purse full of gold or a barrel full of beer, but how would a German understand a girl ‘full of grace’?” Martin thought that translation missed the point. “I’d prefer to say simply, ‘Leibe Maria’ [“beloved Mary”]. What word is richer than that word, ‘liebe’?”

The translation work was humbling for Martin. He wrote, “I have undertaken to translate the Bible into German. This was good for me. If I hadn’t done it, I might have died thinking I was smart.” Though the work was difficult, Martin completed translating the entire New Testament from its original Greek into German in just eleven weeks. Martin’s time in the Wartburg settled the thunder roaring in his soul. It also prepared him for a different storm. Within the year, he’d return to Wittenberg, ready to face the troubles that raged there.



What Is Postmodernism?

Editor’s note: This article is part of a two-part series titled “How to Evangelize Postmodernists.” Part two is available here.

A part of every effective evangelistic strategy is rightly understanding the beliefs of those you are seeking to evangelize. Knowing what your interlocuters believe and what makes them tick, so to speak, will help you be more effective at relaying the good news of Jesus Christ. This is why missionaries seeking to reach Muslims will research Islam and the Quran, and those seeking to reach Hindus will study Hinduism and the Vedas, etc. While it is clear in Scripture that God is sovereign over salvation, we should strive to do our best to be winsome and knowledgeable about those we are seeking to reach.

Though it is not a religion per se, this is no less true for those who embrace postmodernism.  Though very few people would likely choose the label “postmodernist”[1] to describe themselves, the modern West is heavily influenced by postmodern thought. The average person on the street may not know anything about Michel Foucault and Jean-François Lyotard, but that does not mean that their ideas are not mainstream in our culture. Thus, for Christians who are trying to be faithful to reach the lost in the American context, it would be wise to learn about postmodernism so that we can more effectively engage postmodernists.

But before jumping into this topic, I want to say that there are very few original thoughts in what follows. I was greatly helped in my research by D. A. Carson[2], Douglas Groothuis[3], James Sire[4], and Sam Chan.[5] If one desires more information on postmodernism at large, all of these resources would be helpful. With that noted, let’s jump in!

What Is Postmodernism?

To rightly evangelize postmoderns, we must understand what postmodernism is. However, to understand postmodernism correctly, we must first understand what modernism is. Modernism was largely built upon the ideas of foundationalism. Foundationalism argues that knowledge is the result of understanding foundational truths that are either self-evident (those facts that are so obviously true they don’t need to be argued for or proven, i.e., the law of non-contradiction) or those that can be tested and confirmed through our senses. In other words, being rational and using logic to prove something is fundamental to foundationalism. We can make objective decisions to determine truth by using logic and reason. You may have heard the terms “rationalism” and “empiricism” before, and that is what these two “isms” are largely getting at. So, in answering the question of “How do we know something?” moderns would say, “Because our use of reason or testing/verification tells us so.”

With this in mind, let’s consider how to define postmodernism. People have differing definitions of postmodernism, and a consensus definition has not emerged. Getting a descriptive definition that is not obscure is hard to find as well. One of the easier-to-understand definitions actually comes from PBS! They define postmodernism this way: “A general and wide-ranging term which is applied to literature, art, philosophy, architecture, fiction, and cultural and literary criticism, among others. Postmodernism is largely a reaction to the assumed certainty of scientific, or objective, efforts to explain reality.”[6]

Don Carson would argue that postmodernity is largely a reaction to the epistemological certainty of modernism.[7] Epistemology is the branch of philosophy that examines how we know what we know. So, Carson argues that postmodernism takes great issue with how moderns are so certain that they know what they know. If you read about postmodernism more broadly, you’ll notice that most definitions argue that postmodernism is largely a critique of modernism.

What Are the Core Beliefs or Big Ideas in Postmodernism?

One of the core beliefs of postmodernism is the rejection of objective truth. Friedrich Nietzsche famously said that “God is dead.”[8] By this, Nietzsche meant that with the rise of modernism, reason, and skepticism, the traditional conception of God could not possibly be true or viable. And when God is removed from the equation, so is objective truth.

Nietzsche also pondered the essence of truth. He said, “What, then, is truth? A mobile army of metaphors, metonyms, and anthropomorphisms–in short, a sum of human relations, which have been enhanced, transposed, and embellished poetically and rhetorically…”[9] In other words, truth is not objectively there. It is described in the language in which we tell our metanarratives (more on this below), but there is nothing more truly there. If we continue to insist that we have the one true story, we are delusional. As James Sire noted commenting on Nietzsche’s thought here, “Those who hang on to their metanarrative as if it really were the master story, encompassing or explaining all other stories, are under an illusion. We can have meaning, for all these stories are more or less meaningful, but we cannot have truth.”[10] From a slightly different angle, listen to the way Douglas Groothuis describes it:

For these postmodernist thinkers, the very idea of truth has decayed and disintegrated. It is no longer something knowable by anyone who engages in the proper forms of investigation and study. Truth is not over and above us, something that can be conveyed across cultures and over time. It is inseparable from our cultural conditioning, our psychology, our race and our gender. At the end of the day, truth is simply what we, as individuals and as communities, make it to be and nothing more. Truth dissolves into a host of disconnected “truths,” all equal to each other but unrelated to one another; there is no overall, rational scheme of things.[11]

And this thought introduces another major point within postmodernism, and that is its focus on language. According to postmodernism, all language is a social or human construct. We create language systems, but language does not describe anything true necessarily. Rather, language is used for practical purposes, i.e., to get things done, and to construct “truth” for that community. Therefore, since there is no objective truth behind language, but rather pragmatism (“pragmatism” is a philosophical view that affirms theories or beliefs in terms of their practical application or their ability to get things accomplished), truth is determined by the community. If language is a communal activity and you can convince enough people to agree with you and what you say, then that is “truth” for that community.

Another focal aspect of postmodernity that is attributed to the work of Jean-Francois Lyotard, who is considered one of the founders of the movement, is an “incredulity toward metanarratives.”[12] A metanarrative is the big-picture story that defines one’s worldview. So, for Christians, we have our story which is derived from the Scriptures. Our story goes that there is a Creator God who created and sustains the world (Gen.1-2; Heb. 1:3) The disobedience of the first couple brought sin and death to His creation (Gen. 3), but He made a way for reconciliation through the life, death, and resurrection of His Son (John 3:16). And on and on. But that is our metanarrative that frames how we view all of reality.

And other people have their own metanarratives, whether they be naturalists who do not believe in the supernatural, Marxists who view all things from the lens of the bourgeoisie and the proletariat, the Muslim who believes the story of the Quran, etc. Postmodernists believe that no metanarrative is any better than any other. All these stories are equally valid for those people who believe them. If they work for these people, then they are validated and true (at least they are true for those who believe them).

But notice how this quickly leads to relativism. If your community believes that Jesus is God, well, He might be God for you and your community, but not for someone else or some other community who holds to Allah being God. No one’s story, in other words, is any more “true” than anyone else’s. We are all just playing language games, and if your story helps you live a more meaningful life, then good. But you have no business or authority in telling others that you have the one true story. Listen to how Sam Chan describes the implications of this:

In this way, postmodernity recognizes that knowledge is power. The one who gets to tell the story and impose it as a metanarrative upon others is playing a power game. In postmodernity, there is deep mistrust of organized religion, government, and other forms of established authority because that is exactly what authority figures do: they impose their metanarrative upon all peoples and use truth as a weapon to force people to conform to their metanarrative. That’s also why, in postmodernity, we employ a hermeneutic of suspicion upon a narrative or truth claim. We deconstruct the narrative or truth claim by asking, “What power game is this person playing?”[13]

As you have probably already discerned, this view is at the root of a lot of the social ideologies in our current culture like Critical Race Theory (CRT), Queer Theory, Fat Theory, etc.

Additionally, because language is viewed from this perspective, objective interpretation is also impossible. If truth is subject to the fancy of a community, then is there really a right and wrong way of interpretation? This is where the word “deconstruction” comes into the picture. As James Sire notes:

There is as well a problem with the stories themselves. How is the language in which they are expressed to be interpreted? Within the deconstructionist segment of postmodernism, the stories we tell ourselves and others do not have a determinate meaning. They are subject to normal misreading through lack of intelligence or basic background, or difference between the writer’s or speaker’s background or context and that of the reader or listener. There is an inherent indeterminacy to language itself. Stories all contain the seeds of self-contradiction. Texts and statements mean only what readers take them to mean.[14]

Therefore, when it comes to interpretation, authorial intent is often jettisoned. In other words, what the author meant when he wrote something is largely irrelevant. In fact, it’s impossible to recover what the author intended according to this view. This is because postmodernists, under the influence of one of the leaders named Jacques Derrida, adopt a form of a view called referentialism. Referentialism argues that there is no perfect correspondence between words and the meaning that they confer. Therefore, as Norman Geisler argues, “meaning…is ultimately untransferable between writer and reader.”[15] Now, as I will argue in part two, this view is ultimately self-defeating. Nonetheless, it is important to try to understand where they are coming from.

Without going into much more detail, a couple of other aspects of postmodernism that are worth mentioning are complexity and contradiction; postmoderns value that things are not always what they seem. They value complexity, and one of their adamant rejections is that things are never as clear or as simple as moderns often made it. Additionally, postmoderns value concrete experiences. They are not fond of abstract principles but prefer real-life experiences. They desire to define their own reality based on how they feel, what works, and what they think improves their (and others’) way of life.

By way of summary, postmodernism can be roughly defined by the following characteristics (other characteristics could be added, and these appear in no particular order):

  1. A critical nature towards rationalism and empiricism (logic and verification to discern truth).
  2. A rejection of absolute truth.
  3. “Truth” is determined by one’s community.
  4. Language is a social construct that is used for pragmatic purposes.
  5. A skepticism of metanarratives (no metanarrative is any better than any other).
  6. Knowledge is power (hence skepticism of those in power and controlling metanarratives).
  7. Objective interpretation is impossible.
  8. A valuing of the complex and a rejection of the simple.
  9. A valuing of the concrete and a rejection of the abstract.

__________

[1] Throughout this article, “postmodernist” and “postmoderns” will be used synonymously.

[2] D. A. Carson, The Gagging of God.

[3] Douglas Groothuis, Truth Decay.

[4] James Sire, The Universe Next Door.

[5] Sam Chan, Evangelism in a Skeptical World.

[6] https://www.pbs.org/faithandreason/gengloss/postm-body.html#:~:text=A%20general%20and%20wide%2Dranging,objective%2C%20efforts%20to%20explain%20reality.

[7] Carson, The Gagging of God, 57-64.

[8] Frederick Nietzsche’s writings, on multiple occasions, used the term “God is dead.” The first occurrence is found in The Gay Science (Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 2012), 156.

[9] Nietzsche, “On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense,” 47.

[10] Sire, The Universe Next Door, 211.

[11] Groothuis, Truth Decay, 20.

[12] Jean-Francois Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition, 24.

[13] Chan, Evangelism in a Skeptical World, 111.

[14] Sire, The Universe Next Door, 213.

[15] Norman Geisler, Baker Encyclopedia of Christian Apologetics, 192.