Though My Flesh May Fail: Reflections on Chronic Suffering from the Hospital Bed

By / Aug 30

“You have dysentery.” My common fate on the old Oregon Trail computer game became reality three years ago in Madagascar when my doctor spoke these words to me. As much as I wanted to laugh at how ironic it was to struggle with such an old disease as dysentery, I was in pain.

Little did I know then that this illness would set me on a trajectory of doctors’ visits, medical diagnoses, and hospital stays for the next three years, leading up to this very day where I sit once again in isolation at St. Luke’s East Hospital, missing my family and wondering why they can’t design hospital beds to be more comfortable.

I’m a firm believer in the sovereignty of God’s grace. I believe everything that happens to the believer is for good. After receiving an autoimmune diagnosis and seeing the subsequent bills roll in, though, this conviction has been put to the test.

Amidst temptations to doubt, God continues to reveal His good purposes for me in my affliction. As I sit in my hospital bed today, three lessons stand out among the rest as reminders of the sovereignty of God’s grace and His goodness in my life.

1. Your present trajectory does not determine your eternal reality.

Beginning in the fall of 2020, my life seemed to be on a negative trajectory. A house fire displacing our family for six months, the loss of my job and financial stability, and an autoimmune diagnosis hit us all in the span of a few months. Health, home, career, and finances- all taken away before we knew what hit us.

Any onlooker to the situation would quickly—and rightly—surmise that we were in a tough spot, in all senses of the phrase- emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

And in that season, Psalm 73 became my refrain.

“My feet had almost stumbled… For I was envious of the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked…For they have no pangs until death…They are not in trouble as others are…Behold, these are the wicked; always as ease.”

Why do the wicked prosper? So often, prosperity seems to attend the wicked while the Christian seems to go from bad to worse. I often wonder, “How can this be?” Anticipating my question, God answers…

“But when I thought how to understand this; it seemed to me a wearisome task, until I went into the sanctuary of God; then I discerned their end… Truly you set them in slippery places.”

For the Christian, God saves us not only from our sin, but He also saves us from all other saviors. During this season, I began to see that I found more comfort, identity, and satisfaction in my home, health, and finances than I had previously realized.

As Thomas Brooks said in The Crook in the Lot, “If there’s any part of my portion in this life where, in the midst of all others, one is disposed to nestle in, the thorn will readily be laid there. There the trial will be taken for there is the grand competition with Christ. We find our greatest cross where we expected our greatest comfort.”

In other words, God will have no rivals for worship in our hearts. Our thorns are God’s means of keeping us in Christ.

These earthly possessions proved to be terrible saviors, possessing no power to give what they promise. They never satisfy. The rich never have enough. The home never comforts enough. The healthy still get sick. Ease is a wicked temptress and an empty savior. The wicked may prosper, but the Psalmist teaches how I can respond.

“Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”

Take heart, Christian. Though it may seem as if life is headed in the wrong direction, rest in the wisdom of God. While affluence may grow for the wicked, they are in slippery places. In His grace, God keeps us from great temptations. We may actually be closer to where we need to be than if the affliction were simply removed.

2. God has no aimless thorns.

“Though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trails.” (1 Peter 1:6, emphasis mine)

God will not unnecessarily keep you in humbling circumstances. When the end purpose for the affliction is attained, we can be sure the affliction will be taken away.

And while He may have 10,000 purposes for a single affliction, we can rest assured that His purposes are good. Again, our thorns are His means of keeping us.

Just as a fence around a playground frees children to run fast with no fear of the cars on the street, our thorns enable us to enjoy Jesus more than anything else we could find in this life.

And since I still struggle with my chronic illness, I can be sure that God is still at work— removing heart idols in me and possibly working something outside of myself that I’m completely unaware of.

Let this be your confidence, Christian— God is more committed to your Christlikeness than you are. “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion on that day.” No matter what. He will do whatever it takes to ensure your conformity to Christ and your dwelling with Him for eternity. No matter how painful.

As C.S. Lewis said so profoundly, “We don’t doubt God’s goodness, we just don’t realize how painful it might be.”

So, in the midst of your chronic suffering, remember that God has no aimless thorns. Each thorn perfectly meets its mark exactly as He intends for the duration He determines. Each one will accomplish all He desires. Learn to seek God in the struggle with the thorn. See how He might be using it to conform you to the image of Christ and prepare you for eternity with Him.

3. Chronic suffering gives opportunity for resurrection living.

“We who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.” (2 Corinthians 4:11)

At the hospital, a friend asked, “How are you not frustrated right now? I feel like everyone else in your situation would be angry that the doctors can’t find a solution.”

I believe there’s great opportunity for gospel witness through resurrection living. Time and time again in Scripture, God chooses the weak in the world to shame the strong. A life of suffering with joy gives a great testimony to the beauty of the gospel of Jesus.

And in this way, there is great purpose in affliction. Life springing forth out of death in my life is but a small window into the good news of Jesus – the One who became the only true source of life by His death.

So, in my suffering, God has been kind to quickly remind me that the place of dependence on Him is the best place to be. Sickness keeps me close to Christ. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked to be humbled by a different set of circumstances, but I’m learning to trust that His ways are better than mine.

As my flesh fails me, God has promised to renew my spirit day by day. And in this way—life out of death—the gospel is proclaimed. And in that, I rejoice.



How Dangerous Hermeneutics Can Inform False Teachers

By / Aug 25

One sign of a false prophet is when a religious leader invents novel and fanciful interpretations of Scripture, interpretations completely divorced from the original context. Religious charlatans usually engage in such hermeneutical gymnastics in order to bolster their own power. An example of such scripture-twisting is seen in LDS Church’s slanted take on Isaiah 29:11 – 12, a passage they improperly handle in an attempt to bolster the authenticity of both Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. 

To understand why the LDS Church is wrong about Isaiah 29:11 – 12, we first must examine what the passage does mean. In a discussion about theological and ethical error, Isaiah stresses that sin leads to spiritual dullness. When sin takes control, it deadens our ability to think correctly about God and how we should live.  Sin cauterizes the conscience and disables it from working properly. Subsequently, it becomes unusually difficult to understand God’s word or what God would have us to do. That’s the point of Isaiah 29:11 – 12:

The entire vision will be to you like the words of a sealed book, which when they give it to the one who is literate, saying, “Please read this,” he will say, “I cannot, for it is sealed.” Then the book will be given to the one who is illiterate, saying, “Please read this.” And he will say, “I cannot read.”

Because sin dulls the conscience, Isaiah 29:11 – 12 describes a sort of self-inflicted spiritual illiteracy that ensues. People are given God’s word, but they can’t understand it because sin has negatively affected the intellect. In Isaiah 6:9 – 10, God had already warned Isaiah of such a response to his preaching. Isaiah 29:11 – 12 gives forceful and cautionary advice that sin inhibits our ability to think rightly about God and ethics. 

The Book of Mormon is a work of fiction invented from Joseph Smith’s furtive imagination. Smith claimed the Book of Mormon was translated from golden plates buried in upstate New York, an ancient record of a Jewish-Christian civilization which once thrived in the Western Hemisphere prior to European contact. To make his story sound more exotic, Smith claimed the account on the golden plates was written in “reformed Egyptian.” When the Book of Mormon was completed, Smith conveniently claimed to have returned the golden plates to an angelic being. 

A rational question is, “What is reformed Egyptian?” Martin Harris, one of Smith’s scribes and a financial backer, asked the same thing. Though Harris was one of the “three witnesses” to the Book of Mormon, Smith never actually showed Harris the ancient writing he was purportedly translating. Usually, Smith translated by placing a “seer stone” in a hat and then burying his face in the hat and repeating out loud to an amanuensis what God was supposedly telling him. 

Harris was eager for proof Smith was a true prophet, so he asked Smith to reproduce the “reformed Egyptian.” One is left to wonder why Harris could be a witness to the Book of Mormon, and yet not be allowed to look upon the pages. Nonetheless, Smith scribbled out some “reformed Egyptian” characters on a piece of paper. In February 1828, Harris took the sheet of paper containing Smith’s reproduction of the mysterious alphabet to Charles Anthon, a professor of classical literature at Columbia University.  Harris, for some reason, left the meeting thinking to himself, “Joseph Smith is a true prophet!” Meanwhile, Charles Anthon spent the rest of his life saying, “I claimed no such thing!” When Anthon recounted the meeting, he said he tried to warn Harris that he was being tricked by Smith.   

But Martin Harris claimed Anthon’s initial response to the list of characters from Smith was positive, with Harris insisting that Charles Anthon wrote out a brief note affirming the authenticity of the characters and their translation. But, according to Harris, when Anthon asked where Smith got the plates and was told they came from an angel, Anthon ripped up his endorsement and then purportedly told Harris something to the effect, “Bring me the plates and I’ll translate them myself.” Harris responded he could not bring them because they were “sealed.” To which Anthon rejoined, “I cannot read a sealed book.”

What do gullible Martin Harris, the deceptive Joseph Smith, and the frustrated Professor Anthon have to do with Isaiah 29:11 – 12? Joseph Smith seized on Anthon’s purported comment about being unable to read a “sealed” book, and using some fast and loose word association, claimed the entire event was a fulfillment of Isaiah 29:11 – 12, and LDS interpreters to this day insist this prophecy was fulfilled in the Harris / Anthon incident. The claim is that Anthon is the “literate” or educated person in Isaiah 29:11 who can’t read a sealed book. In other words, Anthon couldn’t understand the characters Smith had scrawled out. Then, LDS teachers claim Joseph Smith is the “illiterate” or uneducated person mentioned in Isaiah 29:12 to whom the book is given and who is apparently blessed by God. 

Isaiah 29:11 – 12 cannot mean what the LDS church claims. The point of these verses is not that the literate man cannot read the book while the illiterate man can read it. The point of Isaiah 29:11 – 12 is that no one can read what Isaiah is discussing! No matter to whom you take the book, it is unreadable. Like men running around with a book they could not read, Israel would have God’s words but not understand them. Why? Because their own sin had blunted their ability to grasp the meaning. 

The Community of Christ, a smaller LDS group, owns a sheet of paper they think contains copies of the characters Joseph Smith gave to Martin Harris. Now known as the “Anthon Manuscript,” the artifact was passed down to the Community of Christ by David Whitmer, another witness to the Book of Mormon and a very important person in the early history of the LDS Church. Though some scholars think the Anthon Manuscript may not be the exact document Harris took to Anthon, by any standard, it contains several lines of nonsense; the characters Smith scrawled out are so fanciful that calling them gibberish would be a complement. There is no such thing as reformed Egyptian. It is just one more part of Joseph Smith’s religious scam.  

False teachers abuse God’s word to build their own kingdom, not Christ’s church. A sure sign of trouble is when a preacher abandons careful handling of the text and fails to determine what a passage meant to the original audience. A time-tested rule of biblical interpretation is this: The text can’t mean now what it didn’t mean then. Isaiah 29:11 – 12 was not referring to nonsense like “reformed Egyptian” when Isaiah wrote it and it’s not referring to Joseph Smith today. 



A Prayer at the Dawn of a Theological School Year

By / Aug 24

O Lord, as light dawns on the first few days of the school year for seminary and bible college students, light our path as we journey through theological education.

Show the cracks and crannies of our beliefs that need to be filled with deeper or clearer understanding of your truth. Don’t let us believe the lie that we know everything about life and godliness before we’ve taken a seat in the classroom.

We can never predict what you’ll teach us in an academic year. We can’t guess our areas of ignorance, faulty theological structures, or relational strengths and weaknesses until they’re revealed by a conversation, or comments on a returned paper, or confrontation with your Word. We are always, ever learning, inside and outside the classroom.

Give us eyes to see and ears to hear what you wish to teach us, but also don’t trap us in the hamster wheel of trying to learn everything about you and your church in our finitude.

We confess, Lord, that we are not omniscient. Thank you for teachers who remind us that a miserly four or five years of study cannot completely comprehend divine truth. They can only give us the tools for a lifetime, mining your truth in your Word with your people.

O God, let us not forget your people. As seminary and bible college students, we are training to serve your people, and yet we so easily serve ourselves through the praise of pastors and professors or the pride of what we know. Keep us from using the privilege of theological education as an excuse to distance ourselves from those who seem difficult or uneducated or unimportant, thinking our credit hours make us more special than the rest of God’s family (Ephesians 2:19).

Remind us that before we sat in a theology class, we sat outside your love, “having no hope and without God in the world” (Ephesians 2:12). Now, we have you, as well as your people. We are together chosen and accepted primarily by you, not merely our theological institutions.

We are unified with you, as well as unified in our mission (Matthew 28:19), whether from an American church building, dusty road on the other side of the world, or the desk of a parachurch ministry. May we be amazed at the tapestry of ministries and gifts among us in this season of training. Some of us will be pastors, associate pastors, professors, youth leaders, writers, or staff of countless kinds. Some will stay in vocational ministry, while others will use their education elsewhere. Keep us from pointing fingers at our brothers and sisters like Peter pointed at John (John 21:20-23), preoccupied with asking you about someone else’s future compared to ours. We are all different, yet equally called to follow you.

We are called to follow you not only in word or talk, but in deed and truth (1 John 3:18). Forbid our studies from masking who we really are. We are sinners and students, and Christian academia was never meant to be the drug to cure or cover up sin. How easily we can abuse its environment and equipment to be confident before you, when Christ alone condemns or justifies and sanctifies, with or without our bible college or seminary classes (Romans 8:33, Galatians 5:25). You told us to abide in you, not in theological education (John 15:4). Break the leaky cisterns in our studies that we trust could hold or attain any righteousness apart from you.

Before and after our diplomas, Lord, we are yours, and your people are not ours. “For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake” (2 Corinthians 4:5).

May our “lightbulb moments” and limits to our understanding, love and labor for your people, honesty and humility with your Word and ourselves this year be for your glory forever.

Amen.



Who are the “Sons of God” in Genesis 6?

By / Aug 23

In Genesis 6 Moses paints a picture of the human race falling into sin to such a significant degree that God is said to have “regretted” making mankind (Gen 6:6). The depths of sin that God witnessed among those who were created to bear his image (Gen 1:26–27) had “grieved him to his heart” (6:6). This picture of the sinfulness of mankind sets the stage for one of the most well-known stories in the Bible: the flood narrative.

As with most biblical stories, however, the various details are often debated. The particular debate I’m interested in here is concerned with how we identify the “sons of God” in Genesis 6.

Here is the passage:

When man began to multiply on the face of the land and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of man were attractive. And they took as their wives any they chose. Then the Lord said, “My Spirit shall not abide in man forever, for he is flesh: his days shall be 120 years.” The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown. (Gen 6:1–4).

In this text Moses describes the multiplication of mankind on the face of the earth. This, after all, was the imperative given to Adam and Eve (cf. Gen 1:28). As humanity increases, there is a strange story of “sons of God” being attracted to the “daughters of man” (6:2). The situation (“sons of God” finding the women “attractive”) results in marriages (“they took as their wives”). But the question is, who are the “sons of God” that find these women “attractive” and then marry them?

There have been several answers provided in the history of interpretation. The two answers that I’m most interested in are the (a) Sethite view and (b) the Fallen Angels view.

The Sethite view understands the “sons of God” to be the descendants of Seth. The women (i.e. “daughters of man”) were not women in general but the offspring of Cain. The overarching point, then, is that the line of Seth is intermarrying with the line of Cain, the murderer of Abel. This, it is argued, helps explain the downfall of the human race into such degrees of sin that God is grieved and eventually unleashes the rains of judgment.

Another view understands the “sons of God” as angelic beings that have become sexually involved with women. These fallen angels are perhaps who Peter and Jude have in mind in various places (cf. 1 Pet 3:18–22; 2 Pet 2:4–10; Jude 5–7). Again, the overarching story aims to show the depth of sin that the human race had fallen into. Here, fallen angels, like their father the Devil before them (cf. Gen 3:1-7), helped lead all of mankind away from their Lord.

Admittedly, this position is not without problems and there are reputable biblical interpreters who take a different view (e.g. John Calvin). However, there are a number of persuasive arguments in favor of the fallen angel view:

  1. Though not determinative, this view seems to be the majority view of Christian history.
  2. Second Temple Judaism writers understood the passage as referring to angels.
  3. “Sons of God” is used to reference angelic beings in other parts of the Bible (Job 1:6; 2:1; 38:7).
  4. The specific phrase “sons of God” is not employed to reference God’s people in the Bible, though God’s people are called God’s sons in various places (e.g. Jer 3:19).
  5. Angelic beings are perhaps in view in Gen 6 according to NT passages (cf. 1 Pet 3:18–22; 2 Pet 2:4–10; Jude 5–7).
  6. In this view, the use of “man” (אָדָם) is employed consistently to reference the totality of mankind.

In my view, the fallen angel position makes the most sense of the flow of the narrative and the grammar of the text. It is the grammar of the text that has caught my eye most recently and is one reason I hesitate to take the Sethite view. Namely, Moses references “man” or “humankind” (אָדָם) eight different times in 6:1–7. The usage consistently aims to describe the entire human race, not one narrow slice of humanity.

Now, why does this present a problem for the Sethite view? Those who understand the “sons of God” to be descendants of Seth believe these men are marrying women who are in the line of Cain (“daughters of man”). Moses, according to this view, is showing what happens when the line of promise mixes with Cain’s line. Furthermore, this view means the usage of אָדָם in 6:2 and 6:4 is not a reference to all of humanity but narrows in on the line of Cain only.

Again, why is that a problem? I believe one reason this is a problematic reading is because Moses consistently used אָדָם (“man”) to refer to universal humanity in Genesis 6. His point is to show the universality of sin and therefore help readers make sense of the universal judgment of God that comes via the flood. To see, then, the use of אָדָם (“man”) in this flow of thought as limited to one slice of humanity (i.e., the descendants of Cain) would introduce an idea that seems out of place. It would require us to read the text this way: 

When [all of humanity] began to multiply on the face of the land and daughters were born to them, 2 the sons of God saw that the [daughters of Cain] were attractive. And they took as their wives any [of the daughters of Cain] they chose. 3 Then the Lord said, “My Spirit shall not abide in [all of humanity] forever, for he is flesh: his days shall be 120 years.” 4 The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the [daughters of Cain] and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown. The Lord saw that the wickedness of [all of humanity] was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. 6 And the Lord regretted that he had made [all of humanity] on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. 7 So the Lord said, “I will blot out [all of humanity] whom I have created from the face of the land, [all of humanity] and animals and creeping things and birds of the heavens, for I am sorry that I have made them.” (Gen 6:1–8).

Perhaps Moses is trying to show his readers that the intermarrying of the descendants of Seth and Cain led to a spiral downwards into such levels of sin that warranted the flood of God’s judgement. Yet, what clues would cause us to read אָדָם as narrowing in on the line of Cain when the passage consistently uses אָדָם to paint a picture of universal humanity? And universal human sin is the particular problem Moses is highlighting and the coming flood will deal with. It seems we would need more, or at least clearer, grammatical warrant to adopt a reading that understands two uses of אָדָם (“man”) in the middle of a narrative (6:2, 4) to move from universal (mankind) to a more narrow referent (line of Cain). Despite the biblical-theological reading that argues for the Sethite view, as theologically interesting as that reading may be, we must not jettison commitment to the grammar of a text.

Instead, it seems to me the best reading sees every use of אָדָם (“man”) as a reference to the totality of humankind. Thus, all the families of the earth are multiplying. The “sons of God” found women attractive and married them. These demonic forces (fallen angels) are involved in leading the totality of humanity away from God, just as the Serpent had led Adam and Eve to rebel. The whole human race has spiraled downward. Sin abounds. God is grieved. Judgment is coming. And it is coming to every slice of the human race for all have sinned (cf. Gen 6:7; Rom 3:23). Only God’s mercy allows Noah to escape via the ark he is commanded to prepare.

Admittedly, these questions are complex and the Sethite view is a plausible (and faithful) reading of the Genesis account. In the end, whether you see “sons of God” as descendants of Seth, fallen angels, or you take some other view, the overall point seems clear. Southern Seminary professor, Dr. Bill Cook, states the matter succinctly:

Of course, I may be wrong, and the Sethite interpretation may be correct after all. I certainly grant that the ancient view seems strange to our modern ears. But since Peter and Jude both appear to have held it, it seems to me the best interpretation of Genesis 6:1–4. Regardless of which interpretation is correct, though, the main point is plain: humanity was falling deeper and deeper into sin and running farther and farther away from God.

In light of the pervasiveness of human sin, the text sends us to our knees. We all, like mankind before us, have turned aside and gone our own way (Rom 3:12, 23). Therefore, we are humbled to the dust. 

And yet, Genesis 6 reminds us that though sin abounds, the grace of God abounds all the more. Noah builds an ark that saves all who take refuge within. Thousands of years later, God provides another ark of salvation. That latter ark is not a boat made of wood but a person who carries a wooden cross and dies a substitutionary-atoning death for all those who would turn from sin and trust in him. Thus, like those who found refuge in Noah’s ark and were saved from the waters of judgment, those who come to Jesus are brought through the waters of judgment and saved from wrath of God (cf. 1 Pet 3:18–22). 



3 Bewares for Returning Short-Term Summer Missionaries

By / Aug 18

Well, you’re back, and we all bless and thank God for it. God has taken your summer sacrifice of sharing the gospel and planting churches among the least, last, and lost and used it to advance His kingdom. That said, let’s not too quickly announce this summer is your spiritual peak!

I want to talk to you about the crouching tiger waiting to pounce as you re-enter family, church, and class life upon your return. It’s a pitfall I’ve seen in myself and in many others, time and time again, where upon returning from a short overseas trip, I fall prey to pride.

Pride, you could say, is really the poisonous garden in which all the other sins of anger, greed, malice, covetousness, lust, and the like grow.

Thus, hear the Word of the Lord to you, short-term summer missionary:

“Pride comes before destruction, and an arrogant spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18)

Maybe you need to read that two times.

The Fork in Your Road 

In God’s kind providence, I have had the privilege of studying the book of Proverbs in-depth for 10 years now. To really understand and apply any given individual proverb, you must understand its thematic-theological context (what an individual proverb means inside the literary whole of the book itself). This positions the reader of Proverbs not to interpret Proverbs in a topical fashion (which is suboptimal), but rather as God intended.

Proverbs, as an inerrant and God-delivered book, is controlled by one master metaphor which could be summed up in the phrase: “Life comes at us as a series of decisions between two different ways.” You could call this the two ways theme in Proverbs. It controls and informs the whole composition of Proverbs, as well as the individual proverbs and sections.

In essence, with every penny spent, you are choosing between wisdom and foolishness, righteousness and wickedness. Every friendship is a decision between wisdom and foolishness, or righteousness vs. wickedness. Every piece of counsel either accepted or rejected is a decision ultimately between a path of wisdom or foolishness, righteousness or wickedness. Every sexual thought or encounter is not isolated, but rather an investment in either a wise or foolish, righteous or wicked path.

God in Proverbs, then, wants to say to you, “To be alive is to be on a path—one of two paths, and that reality in my created world is irrevocable.”

As a short-term, summer missionary, you are at a fork in the road. Are you going to choose the wicked path of pride that leads to death (death of something!), or the path of humility that leads to life Himself—the Son of God?

Proverbs 16:17 warns us to beware the path of pride. It is a warning. You will immobilize yourself for God’s glory and your sanctification if you pursue the path of pride.

In that spirit, I have three warnings for you:

1. First, beware of the prideful path of spiritual complacency

After a big win or accomplishment, there is this strange pattern that seems to occur: complacency.

The children of Israel became Olympic-level grumblers and complainers after they crossed the Red Sea. They weren’t even the ones who accomplished the feat, and yet they fell into complacency (Exodus 16).

Elijah, after slaying 500 Prophets of Baal, embarrassingly fled in fear and trembling from the pagan witch queen Jezebel. God was for him, so who could’ve been against him (Romans 8:31)? And yet Elijah fell into fear of man and complacency (1 Kings 18-19).

There is a pattern. After big wins, we have to watch out for complacency. Your sacrifice overseas was a big win. Beware the pattern of “blowing it” by becoming complacent.

You’ll know you’ve fallen into spiritual complacency when your Bible reading seems drab and the Son of God seems boring in comparison to the adventures you had overseas. You’ll know you’ve fallen into complacency when the stateside souls of lost men seem trivial to you.

The cure for spiritual complacency is more Bible! More prayer! More dreaming and eventual execution of Great Commission plans.

You don’t need less spiritual nourishment, you need more. Maybe, just to taunt the devil and inflict a blow on the kingdom of darkness, decide to sit down for 10 hours and read John straight through. Beg God to make Himself precious and beautiful to you again. Likewise, go to a local coffee shop and resolve not to leave until you’ve had a meaningful conversation with a lost person. Maybe it’s time to learn Hebrew or Greek or the dialect of the people group you plan to go to next.

It’s time to share the gospel, friend. It’s time to train and then go back out again. It is not time for complacency.

2. Second, beware of the prideful path of spiritual elitism

Upon your return, you don’t want to become the freak-summer-missionary version of what Paul articulates in Philippians 3 about his pre-Christian self.

I re-wrote Philippians 3 as if Pharisee Paul had been a freak-short-term-summer-missionary-Paul instead. à la Philippians 3:4–8:

“…though I myself have reason for confidence in my short-term missionary accomplishments and also my completion of mission work…If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in his short-term missionary work, I have more: sent out from an elite American sending agency after a few weeks of training, I am of the people of Evangelicals, of the tribe of Baptists/Presbyterian/Charismatics, as to a foot soldier in the army of God I am of a missionary rank; as to hard places, mine was the hardest, in the 10/40 window even! When I evangelized, I was nearly persecuted! As to the law of Bible-reading while overseas, a blameless Quiet Timer.”

Stings a little bit, eh?! Like looking in the mirror a bit?

But Paul knew his true status in Christ when he wrote:

“But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.” (Philippians 3:7-8)

You’ll know when you’ve fallen into spiritual elitism when you start expecting people to note or acknowledge your sacrifice. You’ll want your lowly hearers not so much to grovel in your presence on account of your sacrifice, but you would like them to accentuate your kingdom status just a bit.

You’ll know you’ve fallen to spiritual elitism when you like to say things like: “You know, that reminds me of the time this last Summer when I was sharing the gospel on the moon with the aliens there…”

You’ll know if you’ve fallen to spiritual elitism when you are more willing to share the gospel in your hard-to-reach place than you are in your own hometown. If that is you, you have fallen into the trap of spiritual pride. You are nurturing thoughts of pride in your heart that you are not a normal church member, but rather something of a Navy Seal in the Kingdom of God. How tragic.

The cure for such spiritual elitism is to follow Jesus’ humility in Matthew 9, where Jesus sees the people disheartened and helpless, and did not shoo them away as sinful fools, but instead healed them. He took time to condescend to them and taught them. He was compassionate toward them and preached life to them. You, precious saint, ought to engage with family, friends, and church members in their ignorance of the global gospel need. Don’t shame them. It’s a losing strategy anyway.

God doesn’t only care for those overseas, after all, for there is no such thing as “overseas” to Him. All seas, souls, and lands are His, and He cares greatly for all peoples. So don’t take up the mantle of elitism thinking you’re in a different category than other Christians.

3. Third, beware of the prideful path of godless nostalgia

Lastly, beware the temptation and tendency to drift into godless nostalgia. Let me illustrate: nobody wants to be that 48-year-old guy who is still talking about how his team barely missed the playoffs in high school, and if they’d made the playoffs, they’d surely have won the championship and he would’ve been the MVP of the game. How embarrassing!

Here’s the point: Your summer deployment and short-term missions sacrifice was real and important, but it ought not be your spiritual peak. If it is, you’ve probably fallen into the pride of godless nostalgia. Pride metastasizes—then we often fall unawares, only able to see how far we fell years later.

The cure for prideful nostalgia is, by God’s grace, to dream a new dream! And not just dream a new dream, but execute it. Get to work taking that next hill, be it stateside, overseas, or in the realm of personal holiness.

God the Son had every reason—literally every reason—in the universe (because he made it) to be prideful. And yet instead, He assumed flesh and died in the stead of sinners like you and me.

Not once did Christ walk the path of pride—not once. He ought to be worshiped and adored for this. Ask him to allow you the strength, vision, and fortitude to follow Him out of the death clutches of your pride.

Beware the prideful path of spiritual complacency, elitism, and nostalgia. By God’s Grace, our Triune God sent you and sustained you and has brought you back stateside. Your family, friends, and local church are not there to slow you down in pursuit of the Great Commission, friend. God more likely has placed them in your life to sanctify you. Now, go plan your next short-term mission trip.



A Gospel for the Broken

By / Aug 17

In the past week, I’ve walked with a friend through a miscarriage, listened to a heroin addict explain that he shoots up because his brother was shot in front of him, and sat with a friend confessing sin and sharing how the consequences will affect their life.

Though I’ve not experienced their specific pain, I also feel the brokenness of the world in my bones. The aches in my heart and body remind me that not all is as it should be in this world. Every broken promise and early goodbye leave another scar, another fear to fight.

The world handles this brokenness in a number of ways: denial, self-help, seeking anything to fill the void or heal the wounds. It’s taken me almost a decade of being a Christian to realize that just because I am a believer doesn’t make me immune to doing these same things with more spiritual language.

For example, being so focused on dwelling with Jesus in heaven that I do not share Jesus with this suffering world. Covering guilt and shame with my attempt at good works rather than looking to the finished work of Christ on the cross. Pretending pain isn’t real instead of embracing what it means to be “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.”

After four years of walking through a hard season, I’ve discovered the emptiness of my pursuits. My best intentions and “solutions” to brokenness in and around me don’t work. But reading the pages of Scripture has given me a better word:

You can love Jesus with your whole heart and still be sad.
You can love Jesus with your whole heart and still lose people and things you love.
You can love Jesus with your whole heart and still make mistakes.
You can love Jesus with your whole heart and still suffer.
You can love Jesus with your whole heart, and it can still be broken. You can still be broken.

But here is the beautiful thing: Jesus died for the broken. He says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matt. 11:28-29). The pain I see in the eyes of those around me is not unseen by Jesus. The same can be said of the aches and scars you carry.

Not one moment in our lives—not one decision, mistake, change, or loss—happens apart from God’s intention. As difficult as this may be to believe when faced with evil or hardship, we need only look to the gospel to know it is true.

When Jesus died, he was a 33-year-old single man who “had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him” (Isaiah 53:2b). He was despised, rejected, and mocked. His formal ministry started at 30 and took place over 3 years before ending with him being led like a lamb to slaughter. No worldly eyes would look upon such a life as “successful.” How would we treat such a man if he showed up on a seminary campus?

Yet this is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. And this was God’s plan all along, prophesied in Isaiah 53:10:

Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days.
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.

The worst moment in all of history was ordained by God as part of his plan of redemption. This should be comforting to us as we walk through the worst moments of our lives.

God’s Word says, “This light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17-18). Jesus was displayed on the cross—an instrument of torture, shame, and death—only for a moment, but he will reign on his throne in glory for all eternity.

Believer, God’s plan for your life is better than anything you could have expected because what is broken will not only be restored but redeemed. No matter what you lose in this life, if you have Christ, you have gained all. Take heart: we can acknowledge the sadness of the world without forsaking the beauty of the gospel because ours is a gospel for the broken.



Serve the Lord with Gladness

By / Aug 16

It was late. My car was quiet. My children had fallen asleep on the drive home from church. Wednesday night church. But it could have been any night; we were there any time the doors were open. I was driving around aimlessly, praying, crying– discouraged. Years later, I can’t even remember what made me so upset other than that I was exhausted. Exhausted from serving. Exhausted from wondering when it was my turn to be served. Honestly? I was ready to quit. 

As I drove around my neighborhood, my car lights hit a church sign with the exact words I needed: “Serve the Lord with gladness.” I read the sign, cried some more, and drove home with a new attitude. My motivation in serving was wrong. In my mind, the people around me were the problem, but in reality, it was my heart. I was working hard but not with gladness, and I hadn’t been glad in a while. My pride was evident; my boundaries were non-existent. I needed to find the right motivation in my service to the church if I was going to continue without burning out.  

The scripture from the church sign had come from Psalm 100: “Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing! Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture” (‭‭Psalm‬ ‭100:1-3). 

Anyone who knows me knows I am obsessed with Psalm-singing. I sang this Psalm many times without applying the truths from it. Psalm 100 gives us guidance not only in our attitude when we walk into corporate worship each Sunday but into our service to the church as a whole. Because the Lord God made us we should serve him– and not merely out of obligation but out of love and devotion because we are his people who he has chosen!

As the Psalm reminds us, he guides and protects us as a gentle shepherd. Jesus has laid down his very life for us, his sheep. When we look to Jesus we see the standard for both service and humility. When we compare ourselves to others instead of Christ we are quick to think more highly of ourselves than we ought. If Jesus is our standard then we will be much more likely to live a life of loving, joy-filled, self-sacrifice.

Our ambition is to be pleasing to the one we are ultimately serving, King Jesus. Why are you scrubbing toilets? Or painting on a church work day? Why choose to teach Sunday school, preach the Word, or play guitar? It should be an easy answer. To please King Jesus. Everything we do in our service to the local church must be for King Jesus which is impossible when we are prideful. 

Having the right motivation changes our attitude when we aren’t feeling glad about serving. We will be cheerful in even the most mundane tasks when we remember who we are ultimately serving. When we lack joy in service we should check ourselves. Are we truly aiming to please Jesus? Are we thinking more highly of ourselves than we ought? Are we letting comparison kill our joy? Are our desires aligned with the desires of Jesus?

Having the right motivation changes our attitude about results. We no longer need the validation of numerical growth and visible fruit when our aim is simply pleasing King Jesus. Seeing the fruits of your labor can be so encouraging, but a lack of fruit is not necessarily evidence of failure in ministry if your ambition is faithfulness to Jesus. 

Having the right motivation changes our attitude when we are criticized. We no longer need the validation of people when we can be confident we are being obedient to King Jesus. Criticism can be constructive and expose blind spots. We should be open to feedback and consider if that criticism holds truth instead, we often let negative feedback take hold of us, and let it take our eyes away from pleasing Christ. If criticism triggers a feeling of under-appreciation, that’s pride sneaking into your heart. Perhaps criticism makes you decide to quit serving? Pride again. 

Having the right motivation encourages healthy boundaries. We no longer need to say yes to everything because we know Jesus himself rested— and he’s the servant we model ourselves after. We also don’t avoid doing less desirable acts of service because we know Jesus took the form of a servant and washed feet. Whether you’re the type of person who says yes to everything, the kind who avoids serving in less desirable ways, or if you just don’t know where to serve, our goal is the same: aim to please King Jesus. 

There have been plenty of days since that late Wednesday night drive where I’ve had to remind myself of my ambition and refocus back on Christ. Whether you struggle with burnout, criticism, or laziness in your service to the church we all need to get our motivation right in order to work heartily for the Lord and not men. We can rest in the finished work of Christ and work hard until he returns. 



Is Your Gospel an Urban Legend?

By / Aug 15

When our children were itty-bitty we made believe that Santa Claus was real. The excitement for Christmas morning always built up, as our girls couldn’t wait to see what gifts jolly ol’ Saint Nick was going to bring them. Then this illusion came crashing down when we informed them one day that Santa Claus, in fact, was not a real person. The whole thing: made up.

Except nothing came crashing down, really. Our youngest feigned a bit of surprise, but our oldest was unmoved, and both of our girls basically accepted the news with about as much weeping and gnashing of teeth as you might give the news that your favorite coffee drink had gone up $0.50. It’s a little disappointing, but nothing to get bent out of shape over. (The assurance that they’d still get presents on Christmas morning probably didn’t hurt.)

I’ve heard from many anti-Santa Claus people that you shouldn’t play Santa with your kids because of the way it can affect their Christian worldview, the way it can plant seeds of doubt and disillusionment, hurt over what else you might be deceiving them about, once they learn of Santa’s mythological status. And I sympathize with this concern. But I think the reason our girls weren’t sent spiraling into some crisis of unbelieving despair was precisely because Santa was not our worldview. We barely talked about him. We only brought him up around Christmas time, and we never used him as a guilt-trip or ascribed god-like qualities to him (for example, “You better be good, because Santa is watching you and he won’t bring you any presents”).

I imagine that it was not too difficult, even when our girls sort of believed Santa was a real person, to separate the importance of Santa from Jesus because our familial life didn’t revolve around Santa. We didn’t read every day about Santa or discuss how Santa would want us to treat our friends at school. We didn’t talk about the importance of Santa for our everyday life. Dad didn’t write books about Santa or preach on Sundays about Santa. When we sinned against our kids, we didn’t come to them for forgiveness out of a desire to make Santa look beautiful. We didn’t tuck them in with prayers to Santa. And the community of faith we raise our kids in isn’t devoted to Santa. In the grand scheme of things, learning Santa wasn’t real was not a huge deal.

In fact, our oldest daughter confessed she’d already begun to suspect Santa wasn’t real precisely because even though we talked about him bringing presents on Christmas morning, we didn’t really act like he was real otherwise.

And if you’re wondering what any of that has to do with the gospel, here it is:

If you talk a big game about “the gospel,” but don’t live like it’s true, the people you do life with will begin to suspect you don’t actually believe it. Worse yet, they may begin to disbelieve it themselves.

Consider these examples:

— Children grow up in a home where grace is articulated, perhaps even frequently, and yet the dominant culture of the home is one of law. The demeanor and the discipline of the parents reflects more a concern about behavioral compliance, not heart transformation. The rules and the expectations outside the home carry the chief concern of looking like a nice, tidy Christian family, an example to others, inordinately preoccupied with reputation and impression. There are more rules than necessary, and most of them seem to function less to train the kids up with godliness and more to make the parents’ lives more comfortable and convenient. The talk is gospel, but the climate is legalism. What happens to these kids? They grow up hearing about the gospel the same way they hear about a fairytale land. They hope it’s true, but all evidence seems to suggest it’s not.

— A married couple does all the right religious things but treat each other behind closed doors according to self-centered expectations and desires. They both know the gospel. But one spouse withholds affection and kindness from the other. The other, in turn, becomes overly needy, pouty. They are each making unreasonable demands of the other, one in coldness and the other in desperation. They can talk grace all the live-long day, but the culture of their marriage is law. After a while, the gospel begins to seem less real. Enough people talk about it that it has the appearance of truth, but the power of it is unfelt, unseen. The climate of their home is legal, and the gospel starts to sound like a rumor, some kind of urban legend.

— A church plasters the word ‘grace’ everywhere, but the substance of that word has not quite sunk down into the bloodstream. The pastor preaches on the gospel. The people read a lot of gospely books. They brand all their programming and resources with the word “gospel” and “grace.” And the message starts to attract messy people, sinners of all kinds, because that’s what happens when a message of grace is faithfully proclaimed. But the members aren’t really welcoming. They really treasure their own comfort. They value their preferences. They want their church to grow—until it does. And then it changes and change is disruptive, inconvenient. An “us vs. them” mentality creeps in, and eventually the new people start to creep away. Why?

The message of grace requires a culture of grace to make it look credible. In other words, you can un-say with your life what you’re saying with your mouth.

Tim Keller talks about what happens when the gospel is on audio but the world is on video. It is hard for the message to compete if everything around us is screaming the exact opposite.

So how about you? Is your gospel credible? Do you talk a big game about it but treat others like that’s all it is—a game?

Does your gospel sound like an urban legend? Something you like to repeat but doesn’t quite sound true? Is it just a curiosity to you, a message of interest but not of impact?

Would those you’re in relationship with struggle to believe the good news of grace because of the way you treat them? Do you make grace look true with your life? Or do you give your kids, your spouse, your brothers and sisters at church, your lost neighbors and co-workers reasons to doubt this message?

Do you tempt people to disbelieve with your posture what you tell them to believe with your mouth? A message of grace without a manner of grace is a message disbelieved.



Sowers Not Inspectors

By / Aug 12

When I was a child there were certain times of the year that I knew would contain specific events that could be counted on like clockwork. One of these events was the planting of oat patches by hand every summer as we prepared for deer hunting season. Every year the ground would be broken and we would then scatter the seed by hand. To scatter the seed my dad would give me a bucket filled with seed, and I would reach into the bucket, grab the seed, and throw it onto the ground in front of me from right to left in a sweeping motion while slowly walking through the field.

In this very inexact process undoubtedly some of the seed ended up laying on top of rocks, some outside the edges of the field, and some exactly where it needed to be, but my job was not to ensure that every seed was perfectly placed for maximum growth and viability but that the seed was adequately scattered so the seeds that did reach good soil would grow and prove fruitful for the upcoming hunting season.

Jesus tells a parable in Matthew 13:1-9 about a sower who goes into his field and sows seed. Some of the seeds fall along the path, some on rocky ground, some among the thorns, and some reach good soil with only the seed falling along the good soil bearing a harvest. Jesus then explains in verses 18-23 that the seed is the word of the kingdom or the Gospel and the seeds that fell along the path, rocky ground, and thorns are snatched away by the adversary, persecution or tribulation, and the cares of life or the deceitfulness of riches, while the seed which falls on good soil bears a fruitful harvest because the Gospel is received and believed. 

For most this may be a familiar parable that we can almost quote without any need for reference or refreshing as we have read, taught, or heard it preached many times, but there is an application of the text that we may overlook due to our lack of understanding planting by hand practices.

The sowers’ job was not to inspect the soil before sowing the seed, the sowers’ job was simply to scatter the seed and ensure that the ground was adequately covered to ensure as great a harvest as possible. The sower knew that not every seed would grow, and that birds and environmental factors would make some of the planting process void but if there was to be any harvest the seed had to be scattered anyway.   

Similarly, Jesus has left His church to scatter the seed of the Gospel in this world knowing that the seed will fall on many who will not receive it, remain in it, or bear fruit that lasts. My fear is that somewhere along the way we have traded the duty of sowing the seed for that of inspecting the soil. Instead of covering our families, friends, and communities with the Gospel, we look for ways to excuse ourselves from the task because the person is not ready, the soil is not right.

We may look at someone’s life and think “they have so much going on that if I sow the seed here it will be like sowing in thorns”, or “this person clearly is hardened to spiritual truths right now and due to circumstances in their lives it would be like sowing the seed along the path as the adversary will just snatch it away before it has a chance”, or “if I sow the seed in this person’s life it would be like sowing on rocky ground because they lack depth and never commit to anything for any real length of time.”  

When we make excuses, we end up not sowing any seed because we find a reason to alleviate ourselves of the responsibility to spread the Word. However, this is our folly because grass can grow through the crack in the sidewalk, some seeds can grow with almost no depth of soil, birds do not always get every seed that has been scattered, and trees can grow even amid thorns and thistles.

Therefore, no matter what we may judge a person’s life to look like on the outside, we must be faithful to plant the seed of the Gospel and allow God to decide whether the soil is adequate for growth, because the truth of the matter is that your assessment may be completely off track as you may not be able to see what God has been doing in a person’s life leading up to your faithful sowing of the Gospel.

Brothers and sisters, we are not called to inspect before sowing but to faithfully sow ensuring complete coverage of the soil around us with the Gospel and leave the results up to God as He and He alone can cause the seed planted to germinate, grow, and bear lasting fruit. Therefore, let us be a people who are busy faithfully sowing the seed of the Gospel allowing God to use our faithful sowing as He sees fit.  



More Than Eggheads in Ivory Towers: Three Reasons Why I Study Theology

By / Jul 15

“The love of God is a delightful and affectionate sense of the divine perfections, which makes the soul resign and sacrifice itself wholly unto him.” [1]

“Why would you study theology? The disciples didn’t have a theology degree, did they? What’s the point?”

Ever since I first considered seminary, I’ve encountered this question on more than one occasion. Sometimes, friends ask out of genuine curiosity. More often than not though, the question is posed as an accusation, as if they’re trying to discover my pomp and ego.

Over the years, I’ve tried to refine and develop my answer. And since the question recently came up again in my own life, I wanted to detail my typical response and give three reasons I choose to study theology. In so doing, I hope you’ll be encouraged to consider why you study theology or might consider taking up the pursuit.

1. Study Theology to Enjoy God

At its core, Christianity is not a how-to religion, but a faith centered on knowing God and all things in relation to God.

Typically, when people refer to theology as an unnecessary pursuit, they aren’t thinking of this definition. They are thinking of the theology done by eggheads in ivory towers away from the real concerns of real people with real lives. In this way, I would agree with them! The image of Humpty Dumpty should be seared into the minds of every theology student. Take heed, lest we make the great fall! Theology must connect real people with real lives to a real God. Knowing God is the goal of theology.

I’ve found that the more I know God, the more I relax in this life. As Thaddeus Williams recently said, “The more often we remind ourselves of the size and splendor of the God we’re serving, the less seriously we take ourselves.”

Every true bit of theology should cause our souls, as Henry Scougal put it, to resign and resolve wholly to Christ. We resign to all other pursuits for identity and righteousness in this life, and we resolve to follow Him and Him alone for the rest of our lives. This is what true theology should accomplish for our souls. 

As we saturate our studies in the grace of Jesus, the love of God, the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, and so much more, we can handle anything this life throws our way.

Theology teaches me not only to know God, but to enjoy life with him now.

2. Study Theology to Be Transformed

 2 Corinthians 3:18 says, “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.”

If we want to experience change in our lives, we must know God. If this is true, then to experience change in our lives, we must study theology. Humbly, yes. But we must not neglect looking to Christ to be transformed. 

According to this verse and others, believers are transformed into God’s likeness as we behold God’s glory. Beholding is the means to becoming.

I would argue that virtually every command we’re given in Scripture is rooted in God’s character. God didn’t make it complicated. We simply look at Him and act accordingly. For example:

  • “Love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15:12)
  • “Forgive one another, just as God in Christ forgave you.” (Ephesians 4:32)
  • “Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you for the glory of God.” (Romans 15:7)

We look at how God acts, and act like Him. In theology, we call these communicable attributes- or the specific attributes of God that we should imitate.  

We may not need the term, but we need the idea. Here, theology shows me that you can’t truly look at God in His glory and be unaffected. We will change one way or another. The same sun that melts the ice, hardens the clay. The same is true of human hearts.

 If you desire change in your life, look to Christ. Study theology to be transformed.

3. Study Theology to Make Disciples

In other words, study theology to share theology. In making disciples, we are teaching others to love the Lord with all their heart, mind, soul, and strength. How can we do that apart from knowing who He is and what He’s like?

We must know Him truly if we are to teach others to love Him deeply. And as we teach others to behold God’s excellencies and beauty, they also enjoy Him and the whole earth will be filled with the glory of God.

We must, as Paul says, impart theology to Timothy’s who will teach faithful men who will teach others also. But we impart theology so others may love and enjoy God.

C.S. Lewis famously said, “We delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation.” 

This remains true of theology. We have not fully enjoyed the theology we study until we share it with others, until we can’t help but share Him with others! The glories of God’s goodness, the delight in the doctrine of double imputation, were meant to be shouted from the mountaintops! Granted, these doctrines are impossible to fully comprehend, but as we begin to see who He is and what He’s done, we will experience a joy we’ll have forever as we express that to others in making disciples for the glory of God and the good of others. 

Theology for Life

So, there it is. My common answers for why I choose to study theology. Studying theology changes my life. Studying theology makes my life better. I’m tempted to caveat my answer here with descriptions of the temptations toward pride in theology, the difference between a humble knowledge and puffed-up knowledge, and the duty for theological kindness. As much as those things are true, and more caveats as well, I’d rather leave this post where it’s at and end on a positive note.

There are so many good reasons to study theology. If a degree from a seminary will work in line with these purposes, then I’m all for it. Do we need seminary? Certainly not. The disciples didn’t get a PhD, right? But can seminary be a faithful way to cultivate worship in our hearts and help teach us how to do that for others as well? It was for me. And continues to be so.  

If my PhD journey can be used to help me enjoy God, be transformed into His image, and make disciples, then it will accomplish its purpose. And I believe it can.

[1] Henry Scougal, The Life of God in the Soul of Man.