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.



The People’s Christ

Editor’s note: Excerpted from A Wondrous Mystery: Daily Advent Devotions by Charles H. Spurgeon © 2024 by editor Geoffrey Chang. Used with permission of New Growth Press. May not be reproduced without prior written permission. Available for purchase at newgrowthpress.com.

~

“I have exalted one chosen from the people.” Psalm 89:19

Our Savior Jesus Christ, I say, was chosen out of the people; but this merely respects his manhood. As “very God of very God” he was not chosen out of the people; for there was none save him. He was his Father’s only-begotten Son, “begotten of the Father before all worlds.”1 He was God’s fellow, co-equal, and co-eternal. Consequently, when we speak of Jesus as being chosen out of the people, we must speak of him as a man. We are, I conceive, too forgetful of the real manhood of our Redeemer, for a man he was to all intents and purposes, and I love to sing,

A Man there was, a real Man,

Who once on Calvary died

He was not man and God amalgamated—the two natures suffered no confusion—he was very God, without the diminution of his essence or attributes; and he was equally, verily, and truly, man.2 It is as a man I speak of Jesus this morning; and it rejoices my heart when I can view the human side of that glorious miracle of incarnation, and can deal with Jesus Christ as my brother—inhabitant of the same mortality, wrestler with the same pains and ills, companion in the march of life, and, for a little while, a fellow-sleeper in the cold chamber of death.

We have had many complaints this week, and for some weeks past, in the newspapers, concerning the upper-class families. We are governed—and, according to the firm belief of a great many of us, very badly governed—by certain aristocratic families. We are not governed by men chosen out of the people, as we ought to be; and this is a fundamental wrong in our government—that our rulers, even when elected by us, can scarcely ever be elected from us. Families, where certainly there is not a monopoly of intelligence or prudence, seems to have a patent for promotion; while a man, a commoner, a tradesman, of however good sense, cannot rise to the government. I am no politician, and I am about to preach no political sermon; but I must express my sympathy with the people, and my joy that we, as Christians, are governed by “one chosen from the people.” Jesus Christ is the people’s man; he is the people’s friend—aye, one of themselves. Though he sits high on his Father’s throne, he was “one chosen from the people.” Christ is not to be called the aristocrat’s Christ, he is not the noble’s Christ, he is not the king’s Christ; but he is “one chosen from the people.” It is this thought which cheers the hearts of the people, and ought to bind their souls in unity to Christ, and the holy faith of which he is the Founder and Perfecter (Hebrews 12:2).

Christ, by his very birth, was one of the people. True, he was born of a royal ancestry. Mary and Joseph were both of them descendants of a kingly race, but the glory had departed. A stranger sat on the throne of Judah, while the lawful heir grasped the hammer and the plane. Mark well the place of his nativity. Born in a stable—cradled in a manger where the horned oxen fed—his only bed was their fodder, and his slumbers were often broken by their lowings. He might be a prince by birth; but certainly he had not a princely retinue to wait upon him. He was not clad in purple garments, neither wrapped in embroidered clothing; the halls of kings were not trodden by his feet, the marble palaces of monarchs were not honored by his infant smiles.

Take notice of the visitors who came around his cradle. The shepherds came first of all. We never find that they lost their way. No, God guides the shepherds, and he did direct the wise men too, but they lost their way. It often happens, that while shepherds find Christ, wise men miss him. But, however, both of them came, the magi and the shepherds; both knelt round that manger, to show us that Christ was the Christ of all men; that he was not merely the Christ of the magi, but that he was the Christ of the shepherds—that he was not merely the Savior of the peasant shepherd, but also the Savior of the learned, for

None are excluded hence, but those

Who do themselves exclude;

Welcome the learned and polite,

The ignorant and rude.

Christ was chosen out of the people—that he might know our wants and sympathize with us. You know the old tale, that one half the world does not know how the other half lives, and that is very true. I believe some of the rich have no notion whatever of what the distress of the poor is. They have no idea of what it is to labor for their daily food. They have a very faint conception of what a rise in the price of bread means. They do not know anything about it; and when we put men in power who never were of the people, they do not understand the art of governing us. But our great and glorious Jesus Christ is one chosen out of the people, and therefore he knows our wants.

My brother Christian, there is no place where you can go, where Christ has not been before, sinful places alone excepted. In the dark valley of the shadow of death you may see his bloody footsteps—footprints marked with gore; ay, and even at the deep waters of the swelling Jordan, you will, when you come hard by the side, say “There are the footprints of a man: whose are they?” Stooping down, you will discern a nail-mark, and will say “Those are the footsteps of the blessed Jesus.” He has been before you; he has smoothed the way; he has entered the grave, that he might make the tomb the royal bedchamber of the ransomed race, the closet where they lay aside the garments of labor, to put on the vestments of eternal rest. In all places wherever we go, the angel of the covenant has been our forerunner. Each burden we have to carry, has once been laid on the shoulders of Immanuel.

__________

  1. Taken from the Nicene Creed
  2. Taken from the Chalcedonian Definition


2024 For the Church Book Awards

A good book timely placed in the right hands can change the course of a life and ministry. At For the Church, we believe in the ministry of good books for the sake of the Church—which is why we’re excited to present to you the 2024 For the Church Book Awards. For our eighth annual FTC Book Awards, members of our FTC council, editorial staff, and seminary community chose two books—a winner and a runner-up—to honor and to recommend to you for the way they impacted them personally and/or offered a significant contribution to the Church and her pursuit of a gospel-centered life and ministry.

Congratulations to this year’s winners of the 2024 For the Church Book Awards!


Dr. Jason K. Allen, President of Midwestern Seminary and FTC Editor-in-Chief

Winner: The Army of God: Spurgeon’s Vision for the Church by Geoff Chang (Mentor)

“The immortal Charles Spurgeon was many things—powerful preacher, fervent evangelist, fearless apologist, prolific author, and dynamic leader all rolled into one. But at the center of his ministerial heart was, perhaps, one virtuous gifting above all else— a devoted pastor. Indeed, so many of Spurgeon’s ministry pursuits and so much of his ministry influence flowed from his primary work of shepherding the flock of God entrusted to him. Spurgeon’s heart for the local church, and the ecclesiological convictions that undergirded it, are an enduring distinctive of the great man’s ministry. That’s why the 21st century pastor will benefit from studying Spurgeon’s ecclesiological convictions and well-documented pastoral ministry. And that’s also why I’m grateful for Geoff Chang’s The Army of God: Spurgeon’s Vision for the Church, in which he sets forth, in easy-to-read format, Spurgeon’s local-church convictions and practice. I heartily commend this book to all who serve God’s people. .”

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: Mere Christian Hermeneutics: Transfiguring What It Means to Read the Bible Theologically by Kevin J. Vanhoozer (Zondervan Academic)

“Though conservative evangelicals have long affirmed the inspiration and inerrancy of Scripture, how to interpret Scripture remains an ongoing source of discussion and even debate. Kevin Vanhoozer’s Mere Christian Hermeneutics is a welcome contribution to this ongoing dialogue. Vanhoozer is a respected theologian and accomplished author who brings his considerable gifts to bear in this treatise on biblical interpretation. Whether you agree or disagree with Vanhoozer’s argument on reading the Bible theologically, all who seek to seriously engage the topic of biblical hermeneutics will benefit from his work.”

Get the book here.


Dr. Jason G. Duesing, Provost of Midwestern Seminary and FTC Editorial Council Member

Winner: The Mythmakers: The Remarkable Fellowship of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien by John Hendrix (Harry N. Abrams)

This is not your typical graphic novel. Well researched and engaging, The Mythmakers tells the story of the creative imaginings that served as the bond for Lewis and Tolkien’s friendship.  Following their post-war careers in Oxford, Hendricks sheds new light on both the well known and less known aspects of the these Inklings—including even the fraying of their friendship in later years. Hendrix, a New York Times bestselling author and illustrator, serves as founding Chair of the Illustration and Visual Culture program at Washington University in St. Louis. This is a book to be read and shared—all who do will be surprised by joy.

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: Psalms in an Age of Distraction: Experiencing the Restorative Power of Biblical Poetry by Ethan C. Jones (Baker Academic)

Ethan Jones clarifies, “This is not a book about digital media.”  Indeed, it serves as a welcomed distraction from the devices that distract. This is a beautiful book about how the Psalms, as poetry, can teach, guide, shape the soul as well as shape churches. Jones, associate professor at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, has written articles on this idea for a few years following service as a Visting Scholar at the University of Cambridge, and I am thrilled to see it come together in book form.

Get the book here.


Camden Pulliam, Senior Vice President for Institutional Relations at Midwestern Seminary and FTC Editorial Council Member

Winner: Mere Christian Hermeneutics: Transfiguring What It Means to Read the Bible Theologically by Kevin J. Vanhoozer (Zondervan Academic)

“Most thinkers are either journalists or scholars. Journalists make complex things simple. Scholars make simple things complex. In Mere Christian Hermeneutics, Kevin Vanhoozer does both. He takes the complex biblical interpretation world and makes sense of it, while also bringing added depth and scholarship to otherwise assumed concepts (e.g. see Part 2 on defining “literal interpretation”). In this work, Vanhoozer attempts the unthinkable: a foundational hermeneutic of the Bible on which all Christians can agree. Whether he is successful, only time will tell. But in view of the fractured state of Christian hermeneutics, his attempt is welcomed with open arms. May the church and academy alike follow his lead and foster a community of readers who obey the Word unto love of God and love of neighbor.”

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: Pilgrim Prayers: Devotional Poems That Awaken Your Heart to the Goodness, Greatness, and Glory of God (Zondervan)

“While in seminary, a professor encouraged my preaching class to take up poetry to improve our preaching. Both tasks – poetry and preaching – give a sense of the significant with an eye towards style. Both tasks stir the heart and move the will. Thus, as a growing preacher myself, I was delighted to discover Tim Challies’ new book, Pilgrim Prayers. This book is filled with poem-prayers from prior generations. Each poem is accompanied with added commentary, devotional content, and Scripture reading. Whether you are a pastor hoping to improve your preaching or simply a Christ-follower looking for a new devotional, these poem-prayers will help you savor the Savior and declare his deeds. I hope you enjoy these wordy gifts as much as I have. (For a personal favorite from Challies’ selection, see “A Prayer of Confident Submission to God” authored by Christopher Newman Hall).”

Get the book here.


Jared Wilson, Assistant Professor of Pastoral Ministry, Spurgeon College; Author in Residence, and FTC Editorial Council Member

Winner: Proclaiming Christ in a Pluralistic Age by J.I. Packer (Crossway)

“These 1978 lectures published this year for the first time stand as yet another example of the treasure the late J.I. Packer was to evangelicalism. The subjects covered—Christ’s humanity and divinity, the biblical foundations of penal substitutionary atonement, the historicity and power of Christ’s resurrection—should not be the least bit controversial in the Christian tradition, but Packer’s careful responses to the challenges to these truths (and more besides) delivered more than 40 years ago are just as relevant and vital to gospel ministry today. Few write about such depth with such clarity and humility. This book, the best I’ve read in 2024, is a beautiful refresher on gospel doctrine that will serve us all well in an age of continuing drift and distraction.”

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: A Bit of Earth: A Year in the Garden with God by Andrea Burke (Lexham Press)

“One of the greatest needs in our day of information overload is the Christian who can communicate truth in both personal and artful ways, adorning the beauty of the gospel with beautiful prose. As she reflects on her own careful cultivation of her garden in upstate New York, teacher and author (and occasional For The Church contributor) Andrea Burke’s tender and devotionally rich writing in A Bit of Earth will cultivate vital growth in your own heart. This is, quite simply, a beautiful book.”

Get the book here.


Brett Fredenberg, Director of Marketing and Content Strategy and Managing Editor of For the Church

Winner: Daily Doctrine: A One-Year Guide to Systematic Theology by Kevin DeYoung (Crossway)

“Not only is Kevin DeYoung’s recent book Daily Doctrine a bulwark of truth for pastors and ministry leaders, it was a balm for my soul as well. Time would fail to mention just how broad a landscape DeYoung covers in this guide, and for fear of leaving off such important doctrines I wouldn’t dare begin to summarize. For me, the theological precision of his work on the doctrine of Christology, his biblical and historical sourcing for the doctrine of the Trinity, and his section on salvation was worth the price of the book by themselves. Many people may ask: ‘What’s the point of theology?’ Kevin DeYoung’s book responds by modeling what Andrew Bonar knew to be true: ‘Doctrine is practical, for it is that that stirs up the heart.’ Pick up this book and you’ll find yourself returning to its contents years down the road, for your own life and the life of your people.

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: To Gaze Upon God by Samuel G. Parkison  (IVP Academic)

“Hans Boersma writes in his endorsement of Parkison’s book, ‘This is easily the best primer on the beatific vision today.” In other words, this is easily the best primer today on one of the most important doctrines for the Church. The beatific vision is the Christian’s hope of seeing God face to face—a doctrine which has been forgotten for far too long. Parkison’s book gives a comprehensive treatment of the beatific vision, from its biblical basis and historical foundation to retrieval in evangelicalism and application in the Christian life, in order to raise the Christian’s eyes to a hope far above the woes and wiles of our everyday experience. Read this book and be reminded and renewed in your hope of being with your God fully as we were always meant to be.

Get the book here.


Michaela Classen, Associate Editor at For the Church

Winner: Delighting in the Old Testament: Through Christ and For Christ by Jason DeRouchie (Crossway)

“When we behold Christ, we are transformed. In Delighting in the Old Testament, Jason DeRouchie shows us Christ throughout the pages of the Old Testament, transforming our understanding of the Old Testament to see its unified storyline that points to salvation in Jesus. DeRouchie presents a thorough, biblical case, carefully showing how the Old and New Testaments work together to proclaim Christ and are rightly understood in light of Him. DeRouchie also applies this foundation to interpret Old Testament laws and promises for believers today. Though his work is an excellent resource for students, his writing is accessible to a wide audience, with clear Scripture references and helpful graphics. Delighting in the Old Testament helps Christians read their Bible and see their Savior who loved them before the foundation of the world. In this way, the book is truly for the Church.”

Get the book here.

Runner-up: Reclaiming the “Dark Ages”: How the Gospel Shone from 500 to 1500 by Iain Wright (Christian Focus)

“In no period of history has Christ abandoned His bride. Reclaiming the Dark Ages offers a testimony to that fact. Peering into the period of our history between the early church and the Protestant Reformation, a millennium often characterized as spiritually and intellectually lost, authors Iain Wright and Yannick Imbert give us a glimpse of the light of true faith enduring over the generations. Each chapter presents a biographical sketch of 10 key figures, including Boethius, Anselm of Canterbury, and John Wycliffe, and an account of each one’s contributions to theological orthodoxy. Though some readers may benefit from additional reading to fully appreciate the theological context and controversies in each figure’s story, the book is an accessible entry point to this period of Church history and an encouraging reminder of God’s faithfulness to build His Church.”

Get the book here.


Levi Moore, Manager, Sword & Trowel Bookstore and Tomlinson Cafe

Winner: Delighting in the Old Testament: Through Christ and For Christ by Jason DeRouchie (Crossway)

“Delighting in Scripture is a wonderful privilege of the disciples of Jesus Christ. The Gospels introduce sinners to their Savior, but they do not tell the whole story as to why we need a Savior. Moreover, many Christians neglect the first thirty-nine books of the Bible. DeRouchie’s work, Delighting in the Old Testament, lays out a simple and applicable method to aid the Church in taking joy in the foundational text to the New Testament. Even in the Old Testament, Jesus is made to be central to understanding the text. As such, Jesus helps us to read well, see well, hope well, and live well. With the for the Church mission in mind, this work is designed to be used by individuals and groups alike.”

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: Daily Doctrine: A One-Year Guide to Systematic Theology by Kevin DeYoung (Crossway)

“People are often averse to those things that are most foreign or that appear too difficult. Though doctrine may seem dense and difficult to understand, DeYoung offers an approachable explanation of systematic theology. While this work can be read straight through or used as a small reference, it is meant to be read as part of a daily devotional that breaks down deep doctrine into a page or two and avoids using complex language. This book advances the for the Church mission in helping the layman digest doctrine in a succinct and edifying way.”

Get the book here.


Once again, we would like to extend a congratulations to the authors and publishers represented in the 2024 For the Church Book Awards. You can view previous winners of the FTC Book Awards here: 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017.



Does Original Sin Still Explain the Human Condition?

The doctrine of original sin has fallen on hard times. Celebrated as more “positive” thinking, recent pop publications like Humankind: A Hopeful History propel the sirenic melodies of innate human goodness to an ever-growing audience. The past portrayal of original sin is attributed more to the 17th-century works of Thomas Hobbes than to the Bible, and the new data reveals that we are actually our best selves when we recognize our inner goodness. To many outside the church, the man-as-moral-monster bit simply doesn’t do.

However, there are also others operating within Christian culture who would say a traditional doctrine of original sin is missing the point of the Bible’s message about God’s love and grace.

So, is Christianity’s teaching about sin merely a vestige of times gone by? Is it necessary to the Bible’s message of salvation? Is there a connection between Adam’s sin and my spiritual condition? Does our theology of sin fit with a modern view of the origins of humanity?

The challenge of answering such relevant questions is the breadth of ground they cover—church history, systematic theology, biblical exegesis, philosophy, and now even genetics. However, we are not starting from the ground up in constructing our thoughts about original sin. Christians have been asking similar questions for millennia, and we are stepping into a long stream of holy reflection on what it means to be a human being in a post-Fall world—albeit, now in the 21st century.

What Is Original Sin? 

Throughout the history of the Church, there has been considerable agreement over the doctrine of universal sin. Sometimes, this concept can be confused with original sin. However, while related, the two concepts are distinct. Universal sin affirms, with passages like Romans 3:23, that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (ESV), that there is no human being that does not sin—thus, the universal aspect of the doctrine. Sometimes confusion can arise because passages that support universal sinfulness are used as proof texts for original sin (for example, Isa. 64:6). However, many Christians from various denominations would follow the clear teaching of the apostle Paul in affirming the universal impact of sin on humanity.

However, the reality of universal sin raises another question: How does sin spread universally to all humanity? This is the question the doctrine of original sin seeks to answer. What is the mechanism by which sin invades the world? A traditional understanding of the doctrine of original sin states that Adam and Eve’s transgression had a direct impact on the human race so that all of their children—as their progeny—received a fallen nature, characterized by both separation from God and a corrupted moral state. Generally, discussions of original sin begin their reflection by highlighting the writings of Augustine, who argued fervently for original sin during the fourth century A.D. in response to the optimistic anthropology of his opponent Pelagius. Recently, the argument has been made that original sin is more an Augustinian doctrine than a biblical one. Scholars propose that the church’s embrace of original sin is merely one more example of dogma directing exegesis—the church decides on its theology and then makes the Bible fit into the mold. Anyone familiar with Church history knows that such concerns are not without validity, but accusations claiming the Bible doesn’t teach original sin are inaccurate.

Origins and Original Sin

In reflecting on the Bible’s answer to how sin invades humanity, our thoughts naturally drift to the story of our first parents, Adam and Eve. Genesis 3 records how sin entered into the good world that God created, and while there is no explicit statement about how sin will be passed on to other humans, the narrative of chapters 4–11 reveals that the sin of Adam and Eve leaves an indelible stain on their progeny. Sin spreads quickly and severely. When humanity first chafes at the expressed will of God, the rebellion looks like eating a piece of fruit. However, only one generation later, the crime committed is taking the life of a fellow image-bearer. This pattern in the early chapters of the Bible continues until the narrator writes in Genesis 6:5, “The LORD saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually” (ESV). The tidal wave of sin that overtakes humanity in these early chapters is woven together with the genealogy of Genesis 5, which demonstrates that human life is getting shorter as sin spreads—lining up with the Pauline teaching thousands of years later: Sin leads to death.

The rapid spread of sin, rebellion, disregard for God’s image, and evil in the world rightly causes us to ask: What happened to Adam and Eve in Genesis 3? Traditionally, proponents of original sin have used the language of a fallen nature to describe the impact sin had on humanity. But some critics of the doctrine have argued that a fallen nature creates problems for Christology. If human nature is now a fallen nature that brings with it moral corruption and guilt, then how can Jesus be truly human (with a fallen nature), and yet truly sinless? If He doesn’t assume a fallen nature, then how can He redeem that which He doesn’t take on?  While much reflection has been spent trying to understand the relationship between the human will and human nature, one need not assert a metaphysically transformed fallen nature in the Garden to affirm original sin. The ensuing state of moral corruption and sin that will infect every offspring of the couple flows from their spiritual, relational, and covenantal separation from the life-giving God who created them.

The punishment described in chapter 3 affirms that both the man and the woman will continue their God-given roles in the world (that is, working the soil and bearing children), but because of their sinful rebellion, these tasks will be burdensome, and eventually deadly. Later reference to the image of God in humanity (Gen. 9:6) indicates that people did not cease to be divine image bearers because of the first sin. Adam and Eve did not physically change because of sin; instead, their moral constitution was forever altered because of the severed relationship with their Creator. The narrative of Genesis 3 indicates that death entered the world because of sin and because Adam and Eve were removed from the Garden of Eden (that is, the presence of God and His provision for life in the Tree of Life). In the Garden story, death is characterized by physical mortality and separation from the life-giving Creator God.

The Old Testament and Original Sin

In agreement with some opponents of original sin, Genesis 3 does not explicitly teach that all of Adam’s children biologically inherit his sinful, fallen condition. However, the passage does teach that after the Fall the way of humans being in the world is forever redefined by mortality and separation from God—two realities that continually surface throughout the Old Testament. In Leviticus, Israel is instructed that sacrifice—that is, death—is needed to atone for the sins of the people: Sin leads to death. However, many sacrifices and ritual practices were conducted simply to address the human condition. To be a human being is to be unclean and in need of purification. Yet, even while Israel had these ritual rules to follow in order to experience God’s presence and live in relationship with Him, they repeatedly rebelled against God, worshipped idols, and committed moral atrocities revealing that the poison of sin still ran through God’s people—to the extent that Jeremiah says it is more likely for a leopard to change its spots than for Israel, who was accustomed to evil, to do good (Jer. 13:23).

Perhaps nowhere is this more evident than where the great dynastic leader David confesses in Psalm 51:5, “Behold, I was brough forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me.” David’s words are often cited as a proof text for original sin, and they are often criticized as such as well. As a poetic reflection on his own wicked deeds toward Uriah and Bathsheba, David’s words come to us through the figurative and emotive style of poetic sorrow. While Psalm 51:5 does not necessarily prove original sin, it ably demonstrates the impact sin and wickedness continue to have on God’s chosen people—even His chosen king! The message of Psalm 51 lines up well with another Davidic psalm reflecting on the impact of sin on humanity: “They have all turned aside; together they have become corrupt; there is none who does good, not even one” (Ps. 14:3, ESV). Sin has impacted the human condition deeply and holistically. The Old Testament reveals a people who not only sin (that is, do the wrong thing), but who are a sinful people who need a circumcised heart (Deut. 30:6), a heart of flesh (Ezek. 11:19), a new heart (Ezek. 36:26), and the law of God inscribed on their heart (Jer. 31:33). Israel’s problem was the human problem—a sinful, corrupt heart that requires divine attention.

During the Second Temple period, Jewish writers espoused a view similar to original sin. Commenting on the impact of Adam’s sin on the rest of humanity, 2 Esdras 3:21–22 reads, “For the first Adam, burdened with an evil heart, transgressed and was overcome, as were also all who were descended from him. Thus, the disease become permanent; the law was in the hearts of the people along with the evil root; but what was good departed, and the evil remained.” As this passage reflects on God’s interaction with Israel in exile, it reveals that early Jews perceived the perennial sin problem that plagued their nation as rooted in the transgression of Adam.

The New Testament and Original Sin

In the Gospels, Jesus speaks clearly to the impact of sin on the human heart. In John 8:34 sin is compared to slavery, not merely committing a wrong action. One is under the power of sin and must be set free. And earlier in John 6:44, Jesus stated that “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him” (ESV). The consequence of original sin is a humanity that exists in perpetual enmity with God and, therefore, cannot on their own account or in their own moral ability draw near to God. Furthermore, Jesus clearly taught that the root of sin lies in the heart of human beings. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus drives His listeners to realize that the law not only exposes wrong behaviors but wrong desires. Or, as He would later say in Matthew, “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander” (Matt. 15:19, ESV). As the seat of the will and desire, the heart is what must be transformed, and yet it is the one thing God’s people are powerless to do—God must act.

While the Gospels point to the heart as the root of the problem of sin, the most robust discussion of original sin is found in the Pauline Epistles. In one of the clearest depictions of the fallen condition of humanity, Paul writes to the church in Ephesus, saying:

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience—among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.

Paul’s assessment of the Ephesian Christians before God “made them alive” in Christ was that they were spiritually dead, enslaved to the power of evil in the world, and were by nature children of wrath. According to our natural condition as descendants of Adam (not necessarily a “fallen nature”), we are born into the world hostile to God and therefore “children of wrath,” experiencing alienation from God, powerless to come to God in our own strength, nor desiring to because of our corrupt hearts.

Ephesians 2 provides a clear depiction of the fallen condition of humanity apart from the grace-filled saving work of God, but Romans 5:12 is the locus classicus for discussions about original sin. In this chapter, Paul seeks to expand on his argument in the earlier chapters of Romans by describing the universal impact of the work of Christ, as compared to the universal reality of sin and death in the world. So, while Romans 5:12 is relevant to the discussion of original sin, and I believe supports it, Romans 5:12–19 is not primarily about the mechanism of the spread of sin. Verse 12 reads, “Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned” (ESV). Douglas Moo helpfully highlights the structure and logic of the passage:

A Sin came into the world through Adam

B With sin came death

B’ Death spread to all people

A’ Because all people sinned (Moo, Romans, NIVAC, 181)

The sin of Adam is the vehicle that brings sin and death into the world, and the post-Fall reality of death spreads to all of Adam’s children “because all sin.” Some critics of original sin have argued that this passage doesn’t speak to the origins of sin at all, but only to the spread of death through sin. And, as an isolated text, it could be argued that is the case. However, it is only six verses later where Paul elaborates on his comparison between Adam and Christ and writes, “Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men” (Rom. 5:18, ESV). It is not a misreading of Paul to see in Romans 5 an assertion about the spread of sin to humanity through the sin of Adam.

Augustine and many “realist” interpreters since the fourth century have argued that the propagation of sin occurs because Adam’s progeny is truly in him seminally at the time of his transgression, so humanity literally sins with Adam. Others have argued more convincingly that Paul’s emphasis in Romans 5 is to present Adam as a covenantal representative that stands to shape the spiritual destiny of all who follow, in a similar way that Christ represents a new humanity for those who unite with Him by faith. In explaining the unique representative role played by both Adam and Christ, Herman Bavinck writes, “They have the human race not behind them but before them; they do not spring from it but give rise to it; they are not sustained by it but themselves sustain it; they are not the product of humankind, but are, each in his own way, the beginning and root of it, the heads of all humanity” (Reformed Dogmatics, III:106). The trespass of Adam invariably impacted all humanity by bringing about the spiritual separation between God and man that would usher in an era of mortality. It is only when the New Adam arises to establish a new humanity that the power of sin and death are overcome by the grace and mercy of God.

Conclusion

Is there one biblical passage that we can point to that clearly sets out the details of exactly how Adam’s sin impacts the rest of humanity? No, there is not. Just like we might say there is no verse in the Bible that explicitly states the doctrine of the Trinity. The formation of Christian doctrine consists of both analysis and synthesis. We always want our textual analysis to read various passages well and within their own context, but we also want to aptly synthesize the biblical text in our understanding of “what the Bible teaches.”

Is the doctrine of original sin an antiquated idea that Christians need to wake up and abandon? No. It is a biblical truth that describes the reality that human beings are not sinners because they sin; instead, they sin because they are sinners. And for sinners, while original sin is not necessarily “good news,” the reality of mankind’s inability to save himself truthfully guides us more and more into the beauty of the gospel and the saving grace of God.



The Mystery of Godliness

Editor’s note: Excerpted from A Wondrous Mystery: Daily Advent Devotions by Charles H. Spurgeon © 2024 by editor Geoffrey Chang. Used with permission of New Growth Press. May not be reproduced without prior written permission. Available for purchase at newgrowthpress.com.

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Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of godliness: He was manifested in the flesh. 1 Timothy 3:16

“God was manifest in the flesh” (1 Timothy 3:16 KJV). I believe that our version is the correct one, but the fiercest battles have been held over this sentence. It is asserted that the word Theos is a corruption for Os, so that, instead of reading “God was manifest in the flesh,” we should read, “who was manifest in the flesh.”

There is very little occasion for fighting about this matter, for if the text does not say “God was manifest in the flesh,” who does it say was manifest in the flesh? Either a man, or an angel, or a devil. Does it tell us that a man was manifest in the flesh? Assuredly that cannot be its teaching, for every man is manifest in the flesh, and there is no sense whatever in making such a statement concerning any mere man, and then calling it a mystery. Was it an angel, then? But what angel was ever manifest in the flesh? And if he were, would it be at all a mystery that he should be “seen by angels” (1 Timothy 3:16)? Is it a wonder for an angel to see an angel? Can it be that the devil was manifest in the flesh? If so, he has been “taken up in glory” (1 Timothy 3:16) which, let us hope, is not the case.

Well, if it was neither a man, nor an angel, nor a devil, who was manifest in the flesh, then surely, he must have been God; and so, if the word be not there, the sense must be there, or else nonsense. We believe that, if criticism should grind the text in a mill, it would get out of it no more and no less than the sense expressed by our grand old version. God himself was manifest in the flesh. What a mystery is this! A mystery of mysteries! God the invisible was manifest; God the spiritual dwelt in flesh; God the infinite, uncontained, boundless, was manifest in the flesh. What infinite leagues our thought must traverse between Godhead self-existent, and, therefore, full of power and self-sufficiency, before we have descended to the far-down level of poor flesh, which is as grass at its best, and dust in its essence! Where find we a greater contrast than between God and flesh, and yet the two are blended in the incarnation of the Savior. God was manifest in the flesh; truly God, not God humanized, but God as God. He was manifest in real flesh; not in manhood deified and made superhuman, but in actual flesh.

Oh joy! there sitteth in our flesh,

Upon a throne of light,

One of a human mother born,

In perfect Godhead bright!

For ever God, for ever man,

My Jesus shall endure;

And fix’d on Him, my hope remains

Eternally secure.

Matchless truth, let the church never fail to set it forth, for it is essential to the world’s salvation that this doctrine of the incarnation be made fully known.

O my brethren, since it is “great indeed,” let us sit down and feed upon it. What a miracle of condescension is here, that God should manifest himself in flesh. It needs not so much to be preached upon as to be pondered in the heart. It needs that you sit down in quiet, and consider how he who made you became like you, he who is your God became your brother man. He who is adored of angels once lay in a manger; he who feeds all living things hungered and was athirst; he who oversees all worlds as God, was, as a man, made to sleep, to suffer, and to die like yourselves. This is a statement not easily to be believed. If he had not been beheld by many witnesses, so that men handled him, looked upon him, and heard him speak, it would be a thing not readily to be accepted, that so divine a person should be manifest in flesh. It is a wonder of condescension!

And it is a marvel, too, of benediction, for God’s manifestation in human flesh conveys a thousand blessings to us. Bethlehem’s star is the morning star of hope to believers. Now man is nearest to God. Never was God manifest in angel nature, but he is manifest in flesh. Now, between poor puny man that is born of a woman, and the infinite God, there is a bond of union of the most wonderful kind. God and man in one person is the Lord Jesus Christ! This brings our manhood near to God, and by so doing it ennobles our nature, it lifts us up from the dunghill and sets us among princes; while at the same time it enriches us by endowing our manhood with all the glory of Christ Jesus in whom dwelleth all the fullness of the Godhead bodily. Lift up your eyes, you down-trodden sons of man! If you be men, you have a brotherhood with Christ, and Christ is God. O you who have begun to despise yourselves and think that you are merely sent to be drudges upon earth, and slaves of sin! Lift up your heads and look for redemption in the Son of Man, who has broken the captives’ bonds. If you be believers in the Christ of God, then are you also the children of God, and if children then heirs—heirs of God—joint heirs with Jesus Christ.

What a fullness of consolation there is in this truth, as well as of benediction; for if the Son of God be man, then he understands me and will have a fellow feeling for me. He knows my unfitness to worship sometimes—he knows my tendencies to grow weary and dull my pains, my trials, and my griefs:

He knows what fierce temptations mean,

For he has felt the same.

Man, truly man, yet sitting at the right hand of the Father, you, O Savior, are the delight of my soul. Is there not the richest comfort in this for you, the people of God?



5 Reasons I Love Being a Pastor

Being a pastor is difficult.

I remember my mentor in ministry telling me when I was in my early twenties that if I could do anything else, I should do that. He warned me there would be days that I wished I was working in any other sort of job. He was right. But I couldn’t do anything else–or rather—I couldn’t without feeling I was running from God, and he agreed that was a sign that God was calling me to be a pastor.

I can tend towards dwelling on the difficult and the negative some days because they are what so often are calling for our attention: solving problems, considering the next step in loosening or tightening COVID restrictions, wondering how this next phone call or meeting will go, remembering that I forgot to check in with somebody undergoing a trial. The list goes on.

But there are so many blessings in being a pastor, so many reasons I count it one of the greatest privileges of my life, so many reasons to thank God for being a pastor, and so many reasons I love being a pastor.

In keeping with Paul’s admonition to think about “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things,” (Phil. 4:8), I want to list five of the many reasons I love being a pastor.

#1 – I get to teach and study God’s Word as part of my job.

For all of the stresses that being a pastor entails, and the pressure of the Sunday morning sermon deadline, and all of the spiritual battles that come my way, every week I get to—and am expected to—spend hours studying God’s Word and preparing to teach it. This is an inestimable privilege.

I once heard an older pastor say that he couldn’t believe that he gets paid to study God’s Word. That is a perspective that I need to keep in mind and thank God for weekly. It is a joy to spend time in God’s Word and be filled up with it and challenged by it so that I can have the joy of equipping, encouraging, and stretching God’s people with it. May I never take this for granted.

#2 – I get to be there for people’s highs and lows in life.

Some of my favorite moments in pastoring are being right there for the highs and lows of people’s lives and being used by God in those situations to “rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep” (Rom. 12:15). It is a joy to pray with new parents while holding a newborn baby, and it is a joy to see the radiance in the eyes of a couple getting married while standing right behind them. It is also a different, somber kind of joy to be able to help a couple apply God’s Word to their marriage struggles when the need for counseling comes. It is something I would never trade to have the privilege of praying with a newly bereaved relative thanking God for the life of their loved one, sometimes while the body is still in the room.

These intense times of ministry bond me with God’s people and remind me each time of some of the unique reasons I love being God’s hands and feet. It is also special to be able to often minister during these highs and lows in people’s lives with my wife as she uses her gifts with me. May I never take this for granted.

#3 – I get a front-row seat to God’s work.

Another benefit to being a pastor that I love is getting a front-row seat to God’s work. The average church member does not have the joy of seeing some of the mercy ministry that goes on in secret in the life of a church. It is a holy privilege to know about an act of love in Jesus’ name that only God, me, and the other person involved know about due to confidentiality. It is a distinctive joy to not only ache at marriage problems but also to rejoice with a couple who is now reaping the benefits of following God’s ways in their relationship. I alone get to “see the light bulb come on” in the middle of a sermon for that person who has been trying to figure out what they believe about Jesus. I alone sometimes get to see tears of repentance over sin or tears of hope due to longing for Heaven and being reunited with a beloved spouse or child.

I know that God is always doing a million things and that we are usually only aware of a few of them at any given moment, but as a pastor, I literally get to see God’s invisible hand working out His plan for His glory and His people’s good every week, if I have the eyes to see it. May I never take this for granted.

#4 – I get to see people come to know Jesus as Savior and Lord and then baptize them.

“I wasn’t sure before, but I know that I know Jesus now,” the 16-year old boy told me in the car as we drove from Subway after getting his monthly favorite sub (ham with black olives–lots of black olives!) and catching up on high school life.

“What’s the change?” I asked, excited as I had been praying for him for years as he had been coming to youth group ever since I became a youth pastor.

“I didn’t care about sin before, but now I don’t want to sin anymore because I love Jesus,” he replied.

I never would have been part of that conversation if God had not called me to be a pastor. Baptisms—whether the believer going public grew up in the church or recently began to attend—are some of the most joyous Sundays on the calendar. When you get to talk about the gospel, make disciples, and baptize as part of your job, you are blessed. May I never take this for granted.

#5 – I get the privilege of serving Jesus as His errand boy.

Harold Senkbeil, in his book The Care of Souls, says that a sheepdog always has his tail wagging when he is working, and one eye always on his master. Too often my tail is not wagging, but those are the moments or days that I have my eyes off of my master. But some days, as I look to the day ahead and ask Jesus for strength and wisdom to serve His church that He has promised to build, it will hit me with a wave of joy: I get the privilege to serve Jesus as His errand boy today—wherever and in whatever way He may choose to take me for that day or that season. May I never take this for granted.

I don’t say it often enough—I love being a pastor.

Editor’s note: This piece originally appeared at the Baptist Convention of New England blog and is used with permission. It was republished at For the Church on July 1, 2021.



Pastoring People Through Slow Change

Pastoring people is a slow, long-haul process. As church planters and pastors in established churches, we are called to lead people who are under construction. Unfortunately, until Christ returns, we don’t get to experience heaven here on earth. All people, pastors included, deal with the effects of indwelling sin on a daily basis. This means, as pastors, we are called to drop into the mess of disordered lives and serve people who may be at their worst moments.

Most of us are familiar with the story behind the writing of the song “Amazing Grace” by John Newton. Newton, a slave trader, was caught in an awful storm while he plied his trade on the seas. The Lord used that particular storm to bring Newton to faith in Christ. In response to his conversion, Newton wrote “Amazing Grace.” What most people don’t know, however, is that Newton wouldn’t stop his trade of slaves for another ten years after his conversion! Yep, he used to drop off his cargo and go for walks across the meadow to think and pray. But, over those ten years, God slowly brought Newton to a deep conviction that the slave trade was wrong. My point? The process of change in Christians is usually very, very slow. This doesn’t mean that we overlook sin, but it does mean that we are patient with people as they connect the dots—just as Newton did.

We also need to realize that in addition to being slow to change, people (including pastors) easily drift away from gospel-focused lives. Do you remember when Peter and Paul, the two titans of the faith, squared off in Antioch? When Peter initially arrived in Antioch, he spent time with Gentiles and enjoyed both food and fellowship with them. But when the representatives from Jerusalem arrived, Peter drew back from the Gentiles out of fear. But Paul saw a deeper problem:

“For before certain men came from James, he was eating with the Gentiles; but when they came he drew back and separated himself, fearing the circumcision party. And the rest of the Jews acted hypocritically along with him, so that even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. But when I saw that their conduct was not in step with the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas before them all, ‘If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you force the Gentiles to live like Jews?’” (Galatians 2:12-14)

Paul interpreted Peter’s behavior not just in reference to the law, or some category of the heart, but in reference to what Peter’s behavior revealed about his understanding and application of the gospel. Peter’s conduct was not in step with the truth of the gospel. Peter unconsciously drifted into hypocrisy, but that was only a symptom. The cause was gospel-drift, and so Paul brought him back to the gospel.

Part of the pastor’s job is to help Christians regularly refocus on the gospel. To a friend who is bitter, we encourage them to, “…forgive, as God in Christ forgave you,” (Eph. 4:32). To the husband who is passive: “Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the church and gave himself for her,” (Eph. 5:25). In other words, we look at how the gospel speaks to a person’s struggles, fears, anger, and selfishness, and then help people apply the gospel to their particular struggles.

As Tim Keller says, “All of our problems come from a failure to apply the gospel.”

The call to plant and pastor is primarily a call to help people keep the gospel in focus.

Editor’s note: This piece was originally published at Dave Harvey’s site, AmICalled.com. It was republished at For the Church on February 10, 2017.