The One Life Dream That Makes a Girl Blush

By / May 7

Editor’s note: We’re celebrating 10 years of FTC.co this spring. The article below is one of the most read articles in our history, originally published on March 22, 2019. We’re thankful for our readers and for the many authors who have contributed to our mission to provide gospel-centered resources for the Church.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Because of my work, I sit down regularly with single young women. Single young women who want nothing more than a wedding ring, the kids, the house, the whole lot. And mind you, their wishes are never wicked or wrong. What they desire is not evil. What they hope for isn’t silly. They are not glassy-eyed about their future. They are not sitting across from me wondering where Prince Charming is. They are faithful young women. Hard-working. Funny. Beautiful. Smart. And they have done well to steward what they have up to this point.

And yet, I see it. When the water is poured again and they lean back after a dish is served to their friends. When they take a breath and their shoulders slump a little. After they’ve told me all of they’ve said of their current life, their work, their time, their goals. They don’t want to say it, for fear that admitting it will make them look weak.

“I know it’s silly,” one girl said. “I know. But…” She hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I really just want to be married. To raise some kids. To take care of a home.” She’s almost embarrassed by the time she’s finished saying the sentiment. As if admitting it has made any impressive strength and wit she had fade away into a pile of proverbial laundry and dishes. As if she’s ashamed for wanting something so “trivial” and simple. “Is that silly? I mean, it’s really all I really want to do.”

We’ve gone so far down the road of feminism that we’ve forgotten how to proudly be feminine. You want to carry a child in your bones and lay down your life for them for more than 18 years? You want to lay down your life and learn to die to self for the rest of your life? You want to serve someone with all your heart, body, and soul? You want to master the art of cooking for a crowd and have clean clothes and end each day knowing that there’s a group of people who look to you as one of their anchors and rocks? You want to work your tired body from dawn to dusk for love?

How silly it is not. How trivial is no way to describe it.

I wish we loved the strength it takes for a woman to become a wife and a mother. We marvel at her physical strength when she births a child. But we forget what invisible strength she shows when she lays down her life for her home every day after that. Social media spends all its energy telling women to remember who they are, to fight for their sacred spaces, to become the women they want to be. All things that feel confusing when you’re holding a newborn baby and learning to forget your self-centeredness, to allow others into your personal space, and to become the woman that you are becoming and not who you thought you’d be.

I wish that as a culture we understood what happens in those four walls when two adults decide to sacrifice for one another, be good stewards of their money, welcome in guests, and raise a generation to know the heritage of the Lord. I wish we called it more than a contract, an agreement, or even a commitment to vows. I wish we called it holy, beautiful, other-worldly.

We’ve tried to make it easy. We’ve updated our lives with gadgets and gizmos aplenty. We’ve made our machines smarter. We’ve made our cleaning supplies more time efficient. We’ve scrubbed the hard work right out the door. We don’t even need to meal plan or grocery shop anymore. Fresh groceries can show up at our door, pre-measured, pre-planned, ready to go to the table within 30 minutes.

We’ve turned our properties into museums. Instead of well-loved they are well-liked on social media and we’ve forgotten how to create a home; instead we curate a scene for those who will never step foot through our door. We’ve replaced hard conversations with texts.

We’ve told husbands and wives that the primary goal of their marriage is their own happiness. We’ve sold them the lie that once it gets hard, tired, menial, once it gets weary, someone raises their voice, or someone says something they regret, that we can get out with a white flag that says, “This just isn’t for me anymore.”

We’ve made love about sex. And sex about self.

When a woman says she wants to make dinner for her family, we crack a joke about June Cleaver and we laugh because who wants to waste their time with that? When a woman says she wants to stay home and raise children, we give a curt smile and say, “But what do you really want to do with your life?” And should she decide to pursue that, other women will be the first to look down their noses at her, tell her she’s not adding anything, that she’s slowing down progress.

As if giving up your life for others isn’t an incredible thing. We applaud heroes on the battlefield, social justice workers on the borderlines, desperate souls who risk everything for the ones they love.

But marriage? Motherhood? Small living? Psh. *eye roll* It’s 2019, right?

As if the woman who chooses such things has given up. As if her internal engine doesn’t weary. As if she’s not feeling incredibly alone because all of her 9–5 friends have opted for happy hours and bursting bank accounts while she empties herself for souls who need every ounce of her life.

Children have become the last resort. The final hurrah for a marriage that spends years “finding itself.” Career trumps caretaker. Independence is king. Personal happiness above that insane idea of laying it all down.

This is not to say that those who can’t have children, don’t have children, or aren’t married are inherently wrong. I’m just wondering if we have to speak so condescendingly about those who have said the hard “Yes” to the humbling and long-term work of marriage and family. Can we stop acting like they’ve chosen a simple and silly life? Can we stop talking about children like they’re soul-sucking, dream-killing, money-grabbing leeches on society? Can we stop treating wives and moms with the eye-rolling disdain that says, “Only the simple-minded woman would choose such an outdated path”?

We all buy into this narrative so much that when a 21-year-old girl sits across the table from me and tells me that she wants to be a mother, she blushes and gives a thousand caveats as to why she knows it’s not the optimal choice.

And yet—here’s what I know to be true. I’m nearly 36. I’ve carried two children in these bones and I’ve nursed them, held them, and wept over them, and because of them, I’ve planned meals for more than 10 years now for hungry bellies and bottomless pits. I’ve had seasons of scratching the bottom of empty bank accounts and seasons where I’ve forgotten to worry about money at all. I’ve forgotten myself entirely and sometimes thought of myself only and always too much.

Everyone in their 30s is talking about a rebirth and I’m still learning how to die.

But the souls that move in bodies in and around my home? They are a legacy and an investment that I do not ever regret giving it all for. When I’m weary and feeling empty, when my life goals feel lifetimes away and my body isn’t the one I hoped I’d have, I can promise you that I wouldn’t give them up for a thousand trips around the world, a perfect waistline, or a name linked to fame.

The world can forget me, but they will not.

Last summer, while the kids chased fireflies and the men smoked pipes, while the bonfire’s flames licked the edge of the summer sky, my friend turned to me and said: “Do you ever feel like you found the secret to happiness?” Her long legs crossed, a toddler tucked on her lap, she smiled. “You know—you see all these people out there chasing happiness? Adventure? Purpose? And do you think we’ve found it? Right here in our simple homes, good husbands, these kids…” she trailed off.

“I do think we’ve found it. It’s all right here,” I nodded back.

So, my dear friends, as the poet Wendell Berry said:

“…every day do something

that won’t compute. Love the Lord.

Love the world. Work for nothing.

Take all that you have and be poor.

Love someone who does not deserve it.”

And don’t blush for saying that’s all you really wanted anyway.



Student Ministry and Psalm 139

By / Apr 30

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

            Wonderful are your works;

                        my soul knows it very well. (Psalm 139:14)

Psalm 139 ought to impress the weight and wonder of God upon your soul. In light of this psalm, churches should in turn feel the weight and wonder of their ministry to students. Let us take just a slice of this glory and meditate on verse 14, answering three questions: What does this verse mean, why does it matter, and what does it look like in your church’s student ministry?

What Does Psalm 139:14 Mean? 

First, consider the whole psalm. This is a psalm about wondering and pondering the magnificence of God. Specifically, David is marveling at God’s knowledge, His presence, and His creation.

In verses 1–6, David marvels that God knows everything about him. God knows his comings and goings, his working and resting, his acting and thinking. It is too wonderful for David. In verses 7–12, our psalmist wonders at God’s presence. There is nowhere David has been, is, or will be where God is not. David is never alone. God is in heaven and in the grave, in the sky with the birds and in the sea with the fish. God leads and holds. Not even darkness stops His presence. Finally, in verses 13–16, David punctuates these observations by wondering at how the Lord created him. It is God who formed him. It is God who thought of David, brought his parents together, knitted him in the womb, and watched his growth.

This is not a psalm about the magnificence of man but the magnificence of his Creator. It is the Creator’s magnificence that David so memorably praises in verse 14: “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

We are fearfully made. Fearfully is an interesting word to use. But it is the same word that we ascribe to our relation to the Lord. We fear the Lord. This is a weighty thing. We are in awe of Him, in the same way we awe at how we were created.

Wonderfully made speaks to the uniqueness of our design. David marvels at how he was made as one of the people of God. He has been set apart as one of God’s chosen people.

This verse points to the image of God in us. We are all created in the image of God. We have been given souls that can have affections, minds that can practice wisdom, and wills that can do righteous deeds. We’ve been created to reflect the glory of God to the rest of creation.

This image uniquely gives us inherent dignity. We are valuable and worthy of being treated with respect because we are all little images of the Creator. His image gives everyone value, from the youngest to the oldest. In this way, God loves all people. They all reflect Him, whether dimly or brightly. 

Why Does Psalm 139:14 Matter?

God is the Creator and sustainer of everything. Not a galaxy rotates in the universe without the instruction of the Lord. He spins the very universe on His finger and beholds all worlds and stars at once. He holds together the atoms that make up you and me. He sees every revolution of every electron that spins around every nucleus of every atom. He created the friendly dog and the majestic lion. He created the bustling trees and beautiful sunsets. He enjoys the sun setting continually on earth and on every other planet that exists with its sun. Yet of all these wonderful things, you and I are the crown of His creation. Humans. We bear His image, unlike everything else. You have intrinsic worth greater than any sunset or solar system. The students in your church have that same worth.

But at the same time, every other created thing in the universe obeys the voice of God. The only created things that rebel are the creatures that bear His image. We mar and distort the image with our sin. So, God in His wisdom, not desiring for us to stay that way, sent His Son. The perfect image. The radiance of His glory. The exact imprint of His nature.[1] His Son came and took on that image-bearing flesh. The true image takes on the reflection. He lived as we should and died as we should so that, through faith, our image might be restored to its true beauty.

So why does this psalm and the image of God matter for your student ministry? Because for the limited time that you have with them, you will have five or 500 broken image-bearers that need the image-restoring gospel. These students have worth that the world and even they themselves will try to blur and break. You have the gospel of life and light for them.

What Does Psalm 139:14 Look Like in Your Church’s Student Ministry?

I want to impress the weight and wonder of the task on you.

First, if you are in Christ, you bear a restored image of God, and your students need to see that. Let whatever you do be done in holiness, love, and wonder. When you sing, sing in awe and fear of the Lord. When you pray, pray like you know the Lord hears and answers you. When you eat stale chips, drink flat Cokes, and play cringy youth group games, do it to the glory of God. When you speak, let your words be seasoned with glory.

Second, these students need the image-restoring gospel. Make sure they hear that gospel—that God is holy, they are not, Christ came to be what we could not be, and we can have Christ’s righteousness and forgiveness of sin if we repent and place our trust in Him and His work. The Lord has been with these students since the beginning. He knitted them together. He knew their names before they were conceived. He has providentially placed them in your care to hear the good news of Jesus. Do not waste that.

Reflect the Lord’s holiness. Reflect the Lord’s love. Reflect the Lord’s gospel.

That was the weight of your task. Now let me lighten it. Let me show you the wonder.

You can trust in the providence, wisdom, mercy, and grace of God. He is the one who does the life changing and soul saving. He lets us be a part of this process when we proclaim the gospel and build up the saints. So at the end of every Wednesday, school year, and church camp, you can sleep.

The Lord will care for these students after they leave your care. You are being entrusted with them for just a little bit. It is your privilege and responsibility. Be faithful and entrust the fruit to the Lord. His love is greater than your love. His grace is greater. His mercy is greater. I pray you minister this week with wonder and awe at God. Minister knowing that these students have been fearfully and wonderfully made. I pray you end each youth group gathering saying to the Lord, “Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”

__________

[1] Hebrews 1:3.



Know Jesus Like the Disciples Did

By / Apr 23

How can you love Jesus when you don’t see Him? How can you have a “personal relationship” with someone who is not physically present?

When I was younger, I would pray that God would give me a dream where I was a disciple with Jesus. I wanted, just for a night, to be able to walk with Him, talk with Him, and experience what it would have been like. I think this is part of why shows like The Chosen (despite their flaws) are so popular. They give people a vision of what friendship and fellowship with Jesus could have been like.

But I never got the answer to my prayer, and we don’t live in a TV series.

Jesus is not physically here anymore.

On Easter, we celebrate the good news that Jesus is alive. But He is not physically present. Are we missing out, or can we still know Jesus like the disciples did?

What Was It Like to Fellowship with Jesus?

What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have observed and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life—that life was revealed, and we have seen it and we testify and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us—what we have seen and heard we also declare to you, so that you may also have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete. (1 John 1:1–4 CSB)

John says that during Jesus’s time on earth the disciples experienced direct fellowship with Him.

Imagine how awesome that would be! You would never have to pray for wisdom when facing a difficult decision; you just walk up to Jesus and ask Him your question. You wouldn’t have to ask for God’s comfort; you just go on a walk with Jesus, eat a meal with Him, and receive His hug. You wouldn’t have to ask for His peace; He may literally calm the storm. You wouldn’t have to pray for God to help you; you could just ask Jesus to come over to your house and physically help you with your kids, or guest preach at your church, or join the prayer team. You would never have to wonder why God is silent or feel that He’s distant. You would have living fellowship with Him. You would listen, talk, and enjoy.

John says this fellowship was complete joy. All other joys are incomplete shadows of this joy. They have shape and form but miss the color, detail, and fullness of what they point to.

The death of Jesus could have crushed His disciples for many reasons. But one easily forgotten aspect is they lost their friend. They enjoyed being with Him. However great your best friend is, he or she is not perfect. No matter how kind or wise the most mature saints in your church may be, they don’t compare with Jesus. Whatever qualities you enjoy in your close circle of friends that make you eager to spend time with them are but degrees and reflections of the fulfillment found in Jesus.

Jesus is called the word of life, the source of all goodness, fulfillment, and satisfaction. To know Him is to know true life. This must have been one reason the resurrection was such good news. The disciples’ joyful fellowship was restored!

This is what they had. But what about us?

Can We Have This Joyful Fellowship?

John is not trying to make us jealous. He invites us, saying, “What we have seen and heard we also declare to you, so that you may also have fellowship with us.” The resurrection means Jesus is still alive; He still offers this fellowship.

This is one aspect that sets Christianity apart from all the other major world religions. They don’t claim that after the death of their leader you can still have fellowship with them. No one says they have a personal relationship with Buddha or Mohammad or Moses. Those were teachers who brought a message. But after their death, they were gone.

But the resurrection means Jesus brought more than a message. He brought even more than forgiveness. He brought fellowship with Himself. And John, writing to believers like us, who never met Jesus in the flesh, says we can still have this.

How Do We Experience This Fellowship?

John says, “What we have seen and heard we also declare to you, so that you may also have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.”

This means the purpose of his letter (and by extension, what we know to be true of all God’s Word) is that we would have fellowship with Jesus, which fulfills and completes our joy.

The word of life came to the disciples in the incarnation, and it comes to us through declaration. We are able to experience the joy of fellowship that they had as we read and interact with the living Word of God.

Sometimes when we read a good book or watch a movie, we begin to feel like we know the characters, like we are a part of the story. We may cry at the death of Dumbledore, be inspired by the speeches on horseback, or clap at the victory shot in Hoosiers. Though our emotion is real, our presence with the characters is not. But the Bible is more.

The Bible isn’t just a book to be studied and applied. It’s the voice of the living God. We don’t just read; we relate. God speaks to us, actively, today. We listen as God speaks (His promises, correction, revealing His character and work), and we respond back in prayer (worship, thanksgiving, confession, supplication).

Jesus is not physically present, but by His Spirit, He leads us into real fellowship with Him through His Word.

One day we will see Him face to face; we will experience the fullness of uninhibited communion. But right now, we are not settling for second best. The resurrection means the best person to ever live, the only God-man to ever live, is still alive, and we can enjoy fellowship with Him today. Don’t settle for watching on TV or dreaming about what is available to you today.



The Sea and the Hills Sing His Praise

By / Apr 17

Why Israel’s Coastal Plain and Galilean Hills Matter for Bible Study

In the summer of 2023, a group of faculty and leaders from Midwestern Seminary had the opportunity to take a tour of Israel. Having arrived in the Holy Land, our first day of touring was a stunning experience. Each of the tour stops provided a window into history and Christian theology. Our time in Caesarea Maritima, Mount Carmel, and Nazareth allowed us to reflect on Gentile inclusion, God’s glory, and the gospel.

Caesarea Maritima & Gentile Inclusion

Caesarea Maritima was built by Herod the Great as a harbor city that could expand the economic horizons of the Jezreel Valley and his status in the eyes of Caesar Augustus. The robust port provided easy shipping access and trade in the Mediterranean Sea. A city name that reminded everyone of the Roman emperor solidified Herod’s favor with Augustus. Herod, ever concerned for his safety and the power of Rome’s army, also built barracks in Caesarea.

One of the many military commanders who served there, Cornelius, is named in Scripture. This centurion was the first Gentile convert of Peter’s ministry, and in Acts 10, Luke records the account of his conversion. Cornelius feared God and acted kindly toward the Jewish people. One night, he had a vision telling him to send for Peter, who was staying 20 miles south in Joppa, and ask him to come to Caesarea. Meanwhile, in Joppa, Peter had his vision that declared all foods clean. When the delegation from Cornelius arrived, the Spirit told Peter to go with them to visit Cornelius in Caesarea. The rest is salvation history.

Peter preached the gospel to Cornelius there, and the Spirit came upon him and his household. When Peter saw the evidence of the Spirit, he understood that the coming of the Spirit and the removal of food distinctions were two sides of the same coin. God had sent His Spirit upon the Gentiles, bringing salvation to all peoples. And Cornelius in Caesarea was the first of Peter’s Gentile converts.

But Caesarea has further significance for Gentile inclusion. After Paul was arrested in Jerusalem for supposedly bringing Gentiles into the Jewish temple, he was sent to Caesarea to be kept safe from the Jewish mob in Jerusalem. Luke devoted a large section of Acts (23:23–26:32) to recounting Paul’s stay there. In Caesarea, Paul defended himself by stating that he had welcomed Gentiles into the faith—but not into the temple as he had been accused. It was in Caesarea that Paul finally appealed to Caesar in Rome. After he arrived there, his mission to the Gentiles was confirmed (Acts 28:23–29).

Standing on the very stones where Paul would have walked and given his defense is an experience that words cannot describe.

Mount Carmel & God’s Glory

From Caesarea Maritima, we traveled up to Mount Carmel, where Elijah demonstrated God’s glory. In 1 Kings 17:1, the prophet Elijah told Israel’s idolatrous King Ahab that no rain would fall on the fertile Jezreel Valley except at Elijah’s command. A drought ensued, and Ahab chased Elijah down to intercede for the land. For Elijah, this was all about God’s glory. Elijah told Ahab to summon the prophets of Baal to Mount Carmel. Elijah also prayed and asked God to show that He alone is the Lord.

Atop Mount Carmel, Elijah set up an altar and drenched it in water. It was struck with fire and consumed, while the altar of the prophets of Baal was touched only by human hands. Then, after executing the 450 false prophets in the Jezreel Valley, Elijah climbed Mount Carmel again and prayed for rain. Our tour group stood on Mount Carmel and looked to the west, as Elijah’s servant did, waiting on a cloud as the sign of rain.

Nazareth & The Gospel

Our third stop in the region was Nazareth. Jesus was raised in Nazareth, a small village in the valley of several mountains. It was a no-name kind of town. Nathanael questioned Philip whether anything good could come out of Nazareth (John 1:46). In Luke 4:16–23, Luke records that in the synagogue in Nazareth, Jesus began His public ministry by reading from Isaiah 61:1–2 and proclaiming Himself as the Lord’s anointed prophet of the good news. The people of the town rejected Jesus and drove Him to a cliff on the eastern edge of the city. Standing upon the edge of that cliff reminds one that the good news is not always welcome.

Conclusion

All of these scenes in the region of Galilee anticipate Jesus’s ministry in Jerusalem on Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Luke records that once Jesus had completed His ministry in the regions around Nazareth and the Sea of Galilee, He set His face toward Jerusalem (Luke 9:51). It was in Jerusalem, via the cross and resurrection, that Jesus would glorify God in a way that Elijah could not. As very God and very man, Jesus took the punishment for human sin and displayed God’s power for the world to see by rising from the dead. It was in Jerusalem that the temple curtain would be torn on that Friday afternoon, removing the wall separating Gentiles from Jews so all peoples could have access to God together (Eph. 2:11–22; Heb. 10:19–22).



Why It’s Good to Be a Needy Person

By / Apr 16

Editor’s note: The following article was adapted by the author from his book Pour Out Your Heart: Discovering Joy, Strength, and Intimacy with God through Prayer (pp. 33–41). Pour Out Your Heart is available now from B&H Publishing and wherever books are sold.

I don’t watch much TV these days, so I rarely see any commercials anymore. But even I noticed that commercials in mid-2020 took on a totally new tone. This was, of course, in the midst of the Covid pandemic, and large corporations were scrambling to maintain their sales during a national lockdown. Let me remind you of the basic commercial script during these months.

Let’s say the product is Reese’s peanut butter cups. The scene opens with dramatic, inspiring music. There’s a sunrise, or sunset, we’re not sure. Children are dancing. They’re talking with grandma by video. Parents are smiling from their laptops. And the narrator, in a deep and reassuring voice, says: “In these uncertain times…now more than ever…we are resilient, we will make it through…nothing can stop us…Reese’s. You can eat them at home.”

Whatever the product, the message was the same. But immediately, an internal inconsistency was evident. “Nothing can stop us,” they would say. Well, Covid can stop us. “We will make it through.” Well, not everyone.

This was the problem revealed: We are needy creatures, and life is far more fragile than we realize. Denying this will do us no good. Trying to motivate ourselves to overcome is sure to run out of steam. For millions of people, Covid meant the death of loved ones, losing their jobs, financial hardship, strained relationships, political strife, church conflict, and persistent despair. (A more honest commercial would have been: “Everything is awful. There’s not much to say. But Reese’s might help you feel better for a few minutes.”)

To be “a needy person” is one of the great insults of our performance-based, success-oriented culture. But the truth is that we are creatures of need. There will never be a time when we are no longer in need.

And believe it or not, that’s a good thing. Jesus invites us—commands us, even—to acknowledge our need and bring it to God.

Why We’re Needy Creatures

We were designed to have needs long before sin and all its effects entered the world. Adam and Eve needed God for life. They needed God for provision. They needed God’s world as a home—a habitat in which they could live, move, multiply, and cultivate good things. To be needy, then, is not the same as being sinful. Further, even Jesus, in his humanity, experienced need.

When the Son of God came to earth, he came in need. He didn’t descend in glory. He didn’t come as a young adult, strong and well-educated and self-sufficient. He came as a baby. He spent nine months in Mary’s womb. He was completely dependent on others, like all other babies. Luke 2 says “he grew in wisdom and stature” as a young man. He was needy and dependent because he was fully human—as well as fully divine. He needed his Father’s presence; he needed food, water, and rest.

Not only did Jesus exhibit human neediness, he taught it. In his parables and teachings, Jesus shows us our need. Remember Jesus’s Beatitudes? If we could distill them down, they’d be this, simply put: Blessed are the needy, for they will be satisfied. In fact, it seems like Jesus came especially for those with the most significant, immediate needs (Luke 4:18–19).

To be human is to be in need. To resist your neediness is to dehumanize yourself and reject God’s design. We reject our neediness often out of pride, but also because we have a low view of our physical world, which is the environment by which God meets so many of our needs.

Being a Christian is not first about being a good person like Jesus. It’s about being the kind of needy, broken person that Jesus loves to forgive and heal and restore.  The needy receive forgiveness and respond in love. The proud tragically secure their own future—life without God. It’s haunting that Jesus lets the rich young ruler walk away from him; Jesus doesn’t pursue him (Matt. 19:16–22). Why? The young man has no need of Jesus. Or rather, he has no awareness of his need.

Could it be that Jesus doesn’t reluctantly meet our needs, but that he actually delights in meeting our needs? As the pastor Jon Tyson has said, “Jesus is drawn to your need.”

Jesus Is Drawn to Your Need

On one occasion, Jesus is moving through a crowd, and a synagogue ruler named Jairus approaches him and begs Jesus to heal his only daughter (Luke 8:42). Jesus is making his way through the crowd, headed for Jairus’s house, when a woman with great need interrupts him—she had had a chronic health issue for twelve years—and reaches out to touch Jesus’s clothes. Why? “Because she had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, ‘If I touch even his garments, I will be made well’” (Mark 5:27–28). The result?

“Immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease” (Mark 5:29). Instantly, Jesus realizes power has gone out from him, and he stops to ask who had touched him. When the woman sees she can hide no longer, in a moment of great shame, she reveals her condition and approaches Jesus “with fear and trembling… and fell down before him, and told him the whole truth” (Mark 5:33). And—don’t miss this—she doesn’t do this in private. The crowds are still around. When she falls in front of Jesus and explains why she is making physical contact with him, we see that she “declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him” (Luke 8:47). She is doing this in front of a massive gathering of people who will look down on her for her uncleanness and neediness. And yet Jesus raises her up out of her shame and says, “Daughter, your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be healed from your affliction” (Mark 5:34).

Now, pause and recognize the difference between these two individuals. Jairus was a man, a respected leader of the synagogue, a pillar of the Jewish community. This woman, who is not named in the story, is likely older, unmarried or widowed, and lacks any social status; even more, she’s chronically ill and unclean. Jairus stands at the center of Jewish life with so much influence; this woman cowers outside of it, with none. You’d expect Christ to be more drawn to Jairus’s need—after all, healing the daughter of a synagogue ruler would certainly circulate the news of Jesus like wildfire. Not to mention, Jairus isn’t the infected one. He’s still in good standing before the community. If the aim is ultimately to spread the good news and reveal Jesus as the divine Son of God, pushing past this woman and getting a move on to Jairus’s house would be the efficient and effective method for ministry growth. Draw near to the one in good standing—the guy with influence—right?

This woman, on the other hand, is the infected one. When Jesus realizes power has gone out from him, he could have just moved on to the more important ministry with the more important person on his schedule for the day. Why stop? Especially with such a “better” ministry opportunity waiting for him at Jairus’s house? And once he discovers the identity of the person who touched him, why address her further?  She got what she wanted, after all. Why linger even longer—long enough to call her daughter, and bless her in the sight of the crowd?

Because Jesus is drawn to need—in all its forms and from all kinds of people. And he can meet more than one at a time. He can be on his way to meeting one and make time to be interrupted by another. So, on the days you feel like your need isn’t as important as the next person’s, remember this woman and tell yourself the truth: Jesus is drawn to need, and he likes when you interrupt him with yours.

More than that, he’ll bless you for coming to him and telling him the whole truth about your needs. Of course, Jesus is the only one who can meet our deepest need—our need of forgiveness and salvation. But he’s drawn to all our needs because he is drawn to us in love.

When we come to Jesus with great need, he responds by giving us his full attention. It doesn’t matter where we stand in society. When we muster up all the faith we can, though we struggle to believe, Jesus stands ready to respond. When we realize we can hide no longer, he is ready to embrace us.

It’s good to be a needy person. Jesus loves to meet your needs.



The Problem of Good

By / Apr 9

“I feel drawn to the idea of God, but I don’t think I can get over the reality of things like childhood cancer, spousal abuse, and sexual assault. If God is out there, why is He letting these things happen? If I were driving down the road and saw someone attacking someone, I’d be morally obligated to intervene. Yet this God who we’re supposed to worship is passive? If He is real, is He even worthy of our love or glory?”

A new person to our church asked me this question a few weeks ago. She wasn’t being a smug skeptic; she was genuinely wrestling with the nature of a personal deity who tolerates such decay.

The problem of evil isn’t merely a topic to be discussed in Philosophy 101 courses; it’s a wound that exists in the heart of every person who loves suffering persons and is simultaneously trying to hold onto the twin doctrines of God’s providence and God’s goodness. Like a mother trying to attend to three crying kids all at once, the problem of evil harasses the soul, pulling it in three directions.

“Tread lightly,” I warned. “Do you know what you’re starting to sound like?”

“I know, I know,” she responded, “I’m not smarter than God, blah blah blah. I sound like a Reddit atheist who’s socially awkward, who only knows how to connect with people by antagonizing them.”

“No, that’s not what I was getting at. You’re starting to sound like a biblical author.”

She stared back at me, surprised. “What? I’m telling you about obstacles to my faith, just to be clear.”

“Yes, I hear that. And your obstacles to faith sound like faith. The questions you are raising sound like what we read about in Job, Psalms, Lamentations, and even what we hear from Jesus when He’s suffering. ‘How long, oh Lord? Why have You forsaken me? Why do You stand by idly in the face of evil? You said You hate evil, yet the evil ones flourish.’ What you’re describing as doubts are actually the seeds of faith. About a third of the prayers in the Psalms and a few of the whole books in the Bible sound like this.”

“I didn’t know about that. I thought that was ‘unbeliever’ language,” she said.

“Oh, quite the opposite,” I continued. “In order to be angry at evil, you have to have a concrete belief in the existence of not-evil, or goodness. This shouldn’t be assumed.”

Where Does Good Come From?

“Okay, tell me more.” She leaned in. “Part of what brought me here today is a sense that there has to be a design to all of this; like, for my kids to be objectively and not just subjectively meaningful, there has to be some moral structure to the world.”

“Yes! Exactly!” I said. “That belief in order, meaning, goodness, and beauty—where can it come from? For childhood cancer to be not good, it must be violating some standard of goodness that exists not just in your mind, but above your mind. The same with spousal abuse. If you want to be able to say that these things are objectively bad, there must be an objective good, a standard that is over-and-above subjective preferences or cultural sensibilities.”

“Okay, but how does that connect to faith in God or Jesus?” she asked.

“Here’s how. If everything came from nothing, on accident, then, so the story goes, all that exists is physics and chemistry. Protons and electrons. Atoms. Chemicals and chemical reactions. Your consciousness is just an illusion, a fizzing bag of the periodic table colliding together. Science and scientific inquiry cannot give you an ‘ought,’ but only an ‘is.’ They can’t say what should be. They can only describe what has been. There is no moral or immoral. No good or not good. No beautiful. No ugly. Just a view on reality.

“But,” I continued, “if we aren’t inhabiting mere ‘nature’ but instead a ‘creation,’ then there is a ‘should’—a ‘how things are supposed to be.’ There, evil can be truly evil, not just ‘against my preferences.’”

“I see,” she replied. “I think I’ve been sensing that, and that’s why my family is here today.”

“I can see that. And what a step you’ve taken. The problem of evil is difficult, but the problem of goodness is more difficult. It is certainly part of why I am a Christian today. I have an answer to the problem of goodness, but I’m rarely satisfied by my answer to the problem of evil.”

Trust in the Ultimate Good

“How?” she asked. “How can you not have an answer?”

“Oh, I have an answer,” I said. “But it is only sometimes emotionally satisfying. Often it isn’t. Then I start to pray like the biblical authors. ‘How long, oh Lord? Why do You do what You do? I don’t like what You’re up to!’ The genre is called lament. In Hebrew, Lama means ‘why?’ Many of the laments offered up in the Scriptures are not answered. It is frustrating. When Jesus laments on the cross, He still dies. God in the flesh took His own medicine. So I can at least trust that He gets my emotional state.”

I went on. “But He rose from the dead three days later. So we see that God can use evil for good. Rarely do we get such a clean demonstration of goodness like we do in the good news of Jesus. So we can choose to trust. We inhabit the tension. A preacher named Charles Spurgeon once said, ‘The Christian trusts Him where he cannot trace Him.’”[1]

“Well, I don’t love that, but I guess it makes sense.”

“Yes, but do you see how the problem of goodness has to come before the problem of evil? How beauty must precede ugliness? The chaos of naturalistic evolution cannot deliver on the problem of goodness.”

“Yes. Absolutely,” she said.

“The life God is inviting you into does require trust that grows over time. You have faith in the existence of a creation; next comes faith in the Creator. However, no matter how much you trust Him, you’ll never outgrow the prayers of lament until He returns and makes all things new. And even then, I’m not convinced I will understand all that He’s done in this life; He’ll always be infinite, and we’ll remain finite even into eternity. To trust the infinite One will require discomfort. You are already stepping into that by coming here today and speaking with me. It seems like the Lord has a hook in your mouth, but you’re not quite yet in the book. He will continue what He’s started.”

She teared up, thanked me for talking, and said she’d better go get her kids from the kids’ ministry.

Here’s the reality: No slick answer will solve the relational and emotional difficulty of the problem of evil. A cute answer may even unintentionally cheapen the suffering. Validating the inquirer’s concerns while simultaneously inviting them to consider an additional problem, the problem of goodness, can validate a small spark of faith while inviting the person into an honest life with God. In seeing the person behind the philosophical questions, we can faithfully represent the One who will hear them when they learn to call on His name.

__________

[1] Charles H. Spurgeon, “A Happy Christian,” from Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Volume 13, The Spurgeon Center, https://www.spurgeon.org/resource-library/sermons/a-happy-christian/#flipbook/.



Harnessing the Winds of Revival

By / Apr 7

Editor’s note: This article is taken from the introduction to C. H. Spurgeon’s Sermons (Expanding Ministry—Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit: 1861 to 1876, Volumes 7–22) in vol. 7, pp. v–vii and pp. xiv–xv. Used by permission of Reformation Heritage Books. This collection is now available for purchase.

The first seven years (1854–1861) of C. H. Spurgeon’s ministry in London were accompanied by a surprising revival. No one could have expected it. Through a nineteen-year-old country preacher, a dying congregation was revitalized, and hundreds—perhaps thousands—were converted under his ministry during those early years. Though only a few dozen were in attendance when Spurgeon first arrived at New Park Street in 1853, by 1861 membership was at 1,473, with thousands more regularly attending.

But revival also brought its challenges. During those years Spurgeon warned his congregation, “If the Lord sends his Spirit like a hurricane, it is ours to deal with skill with the sails lest the hurricane should wreck us by driving us upon some fell rock that may do us serious injury.”[1] Spurgeon had seen churches shipwrecked in the winds of revival.[2] One church boasted of taking in a hundred or so new members in a year, only to excommunicate eighty of them the following year for “disorderly conduct and forsaking the truth.”[3] Other churches were happy to swell their ranks but gave no thought as to how to disciple or engage their people in ministry.[4] Some self-proclaimed revivalists had begun resorting to new tactics and emotionalism, hoping to fabricate the work of the Spirit.[5] Even as Spurgeon experienced a revival in his church, he refused to compromise his theological and ecclesiological convictions. “Take care, ye that are officers in the church, when ye see the people stirred up, that ye exercise still a holy caution, lest the church become lowered in its standard of piety by the admission of persons not truly saved.”[6]

At the same time, Spurgeon did not want to let the winds of revival simply pass by. There was such a response to his preaching that he contemplated at one point becoming a traveling evangelist. But in his experience of itinerant preaching, it was hard to know what the long-term effect was. While preaching in an open field in Wales, Spurgeon describes how “the Spirit of God was poured upon us, and men and women were swayed to and fro under the Heavenly message.” Still, once the meeting ended, the people went their separate ways, and he would never see them again.[7]

While one must be careful not to let the winds destroy the ship, the skillful sailor will look for ways to harness that wind. But how does one harness the hurricane winds of revival? Spurgeon believed it was through the church. As converts gave credible professions of faith, they were brought into the membership of the church, where they could be cared for by the elders and discipled under the ministry of the word. Not only that, but these church members were then engaged in the work of ministry, in both caring for one another and bringing the gospel to the lost around them. Spurgeon’s effort to harness the winds of revival was represented by the building and opening of the Metropolitan Tabernacle in 1861. This magnificent new building that seated six thousand would become the base of operations for Spurgeon’s ministry for the next thirty years.

If the New Park Street Pulpit tells the story of a revival in London, then the Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit tells the story of the harnessing of that revival through an established and expanding church ministry. Like the previous volumes, they are a collection of the published Sunday morning sermons that were being preached week by week at the Metropolitan Tabernacle and then collected into a single volume at the end of each year. But just as God uses the preaching of the word to revive His people, He also uses it to sustain them and send them out. These sermons were the lifeblood of the Metropolitan Tabernacle, establishing that congregation in the word and providing the spiritual vitality needed for all the endeavors that would flow out of it.

~

The stories from Spurgeon’s ministry are remarkable: the vast audiences, the sermons published, the pastors trained, the churches planted, the orphans fed, the missionaries sent out, and the battles fought, all on a vast scale that is hard to imagine. Truly, it was a surprising work of God. It must be remembered, however, that Spurgeon did not do all that alone. He was surrounded in this work by his congregation. These sermons are a reminder that what motivated and sustained these congregational efforts was not human creativity or industry but God working powerfully through the preaching of the gospel. Through these gospel-rich sermons, God brought many to repentance and faith, uniting them to the church and motivating their service.

Church growth experts today will have thousands of new ideas on how to grow a church and keep people engaged. Some of those ideas may be useful. But not if they come at the expense of this one central call of the minister: preach Christ. Spurgeon’s fruitful ministry stands as a stirring commendation to the power of faithful gospel preaching. That’s not to say we can ever presume a particular kind of result. Spurgeon’s story was a surprising and unique work of God in a particular historical context.

Still, those who preach the gospel faithfully can pray and expect that God’s word will not return void. In his one thousandth published sermon, from the parable of the prodigal son, Spurgeon stated the aim of his sermon, once again echoing his words at the opening of the Tabernacle and continuing in the themes that he had already preached thousands of times before:

My desire this morning shall be to put plainly before every sinner here the exceeding abundance of the grace of God in Christ Jesus, hoping that the Lord will find out those who are his sons, and that they may catch at these words, and as they hear of the abundance of the bread in the Father’s house, may say, “I will arise and go to my Father.”[8]

__________

[1] C. H. Spurgeon, New Park Street Pulpit (1855–1916; repr., Grand Rapids: Refor- mation Heritage Books, 2024), 4:167.

[2] Though in some of these cases, Spurgeon would have questioned whether a real, Spirit-wrought revival took place at all.

[3] Spurgeon, New Park Street Pulpit, 2:76.

[4] Spurgeon states, “Alas! there is such a thing as having a large addition to the church of men that are of no use whatever. Many an army has swelled its ranks with recruits, who have in no way whatever contributed to its might.” New Park Street Pulpit, 2:76.

[5] Spurgeon recounts, “I have heard of the people crowding in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening, to hear some noted revivalist, and under his preach- ing some have screamed, have shrieked, have fallen down on the floor, have rolled themselves in convulsions, and afterwards, when he has set a form for penitents, employing one or two decoy ducks to run out from the rest and make a confession of sin, hundreds have come forward, impressed by that one sermon, and declared that they were, there and then, turned from the error of their ways.” New Park Street Pulpit, 4:162.

[6] Spurgeon, New Park Street Pulpit, 4:167.

[7] C. H. Spurgeon, C. H. Spurgeon’s Autobiography: Compiled from His Diary, Letters, and Records, by His Wife and His Private Secretary (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1897–1900), 2:93–94.

[8] Spurgeon, Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit, 17:386–87.



What Does Jesus Want Me to Do?

By / Mar 26

“I don’t know what God’s doing, but I feel like He’s calling me to do something. What does Jesus want me to do?”

Whether you’re a ministry resident weighing the future or a mid-career professional thinking about seminary, the question “Am I called?” can be overwhelming. For many, it represents a major life change, like moving or switching careers. Calling is important, and we’re right to take it seriously. But sometimes we overthink it. Discerning God’s will may not be as complicated as you think.

Before you rush into seminary or take a church job, here are some questions to consider.

“Am I Called?”

The question is broad, but if you believe in Jesus, the answer is simple: “Yes!”

Peter says you are “a royal priest” who is called to proclaim the excellencies of God (1 Peter 2:9). This calling is not vocational but ontological, meaning that it’s more about who we are than what we do. We are all royal priests who proclaim Christ, regardless of whether we work in ministry, or as a CEO, an accountant, or a teacher. So, are you called? Yes, you are called by God to proclaim God—no matter your job.

The Tension: Leave the Boat or Stay?

Peter has settled the big question. You’re called. However, even with 1 Peter 2:9, the feeling that God wants you to do more doesn’t go away so easily. How do we know what Jesus wants us individually to do?

The reality is that Jesus calls some to leave their boats and others to stay. Peter and Andrew were called to follow Jesus and become “fishers of men” (Matt. 4:18–20). But, in other cases, Jesus told people to stay. For example, after Jesus freed the Gerasene demoniac, the man begged to follow Him. Instead of letting him join the disciples, Jesus sent him home to tell others what God had done (Luke 8:38). For Peter, the calling meant to leave his boat, but for the former demoniac, it meant staying home. The calling was different for each, but their mission was the same: Tell people about Jesus.

Not all calls to ministry mean leaving your current career. So, how do you know if you’re called to leave the boat or stay? The answer starts with a little honest self-reflection.

Step One: Question

Start by questioning your internal stirrings. Sometimes, what feels like a calling may simply be discontentment. Some of the same rumblings that make people feel they’re being called into the ministry make some ministers believe they’re supposed to leave the ministry.

“I feel like my job is futile. It never ends and doesn’t feel like it’s going anywhere.” “I want to do something meaningful.” “I want freedom! Think of what I could do if I could just read my Bible and disciple people all day.” These are the sentiments I’ve heard from accountants, teachers, and even police officers who are thinking about selling everything to join a ministry. But I’ve also heard them from pastors as they leave the ministry!

Ministry, like any vocation, carries futility. God cursed human work, so all jobs have their “thorns and thistles” (Gen. 3:18). No job, including ministry, escapes this. Discontentment is discontentment, regardless of the field. Before jumping into something new, ask yourself: Am I really feeling the stirrings of a calling, or is it discontentment that Jesus alone can fix?

Step Two: Discover

The next step is accepting that discerning God’s call involves discovery, which takes time. It involves personal reflection and community input. Calling isn’t something you create; it’s something you receive. I’ve found that discovery comes easier when I ask three questions: What are the needs? What are my gifts and passions? What are the opportunities?

Your calling will be the intersection of those three things.

1. What Are the Needs?

Calling begins with seeing the needs around you. God does not call us to dream jobs but to service. Whatever your calling is, it was given to you so that you can serve the needs of God’s people. Paul was called to be an apostle to the Gentiles because they needed the gospel (Eph. 3:1–7). Similarly, Titus stayed in Crete to appoint elders the church needed (Titus 1:5). As you consider what ministry God is calling you to do, ask: What needs do I see in my church or community? In what way does the body of Christ need to be built up?

I remember a church planter who said he felt called to a certain community because “There are thousands of people and hardly any gospel-proclaiming steeples.” God calls us to meet needs, to fill gaps, and to strengthen weaknesses. So, what need is He placing in front of you?

2. What Are My Gifts and Passions?

When God calls you, He equips you. Your gifts are given by the Spirit “for the common good” (1 Cor. 12:7). Because they’re from the Spirit, our gifts are not given for comparison but for service. Some may wish they could preach, but every gift, from teaching to hospitality, has equal value in God’s Kingdom.

Alongside gifts, consider your passions. Passion isn’t just about loving something; it’s about loving something so much you’re willing to suffer for it. If you’re passionate about preaching or counseling, you will face challenges in growing that craft. Ministry, like all vocations, requires suffering. What hardships are you willing to endure for the calling God has placed on you?

3. What Opportunities Are in Front of Me?

There’s no ideal ministry; there are just opportunities to serve. Some may seem small or beneath you, but they are often the first steps. Oftentimes, discerning calling doesn’t mean discovering your destination but rather your next step. What does God want you to do next? When assessing your calling, be cautious about dismissing smaller opportunities. Those small opportunities may be big moments through which the Lord develops us into the people He wants us to become.

Kevin DeYoung offers valuable advice: “If God opens the door for you to do something good or necessary, be thankful for the opportunity. But don’t assume that ease or difficulty is a sign of God’s will. God’s will for you is sanctification, and He uses discomfort to make us holy.”

Step Three: Grow

Once you’ve reflected on your calling and the opportunities in front of you, the next step is growth. Ministry is a craft, and like any craft, growth comes through experience. Training may teach you the theory, but only experience will shape you into a craftsman.

Growth in ministry comes as you serve. If you want to preach, teach small groups first or faithfully teach in the children’s ministry (if you can teach kids, you can teach anyone). If you aspire to lead larger ministries, begin by learning to lead smaller volunteer teams. Growth is a process of developing character and skill as you go. The key is to embrace that process and gain experience from whatever opportunities are available, no matter how small.

Confirmation from the Community

In all these steps, involving your church in the discernment process is crucial. Calling is never a solo endeavor; it’s a community one. The church plays a key role in helping us identify our gifts, testing them, and assessing what opportunities are best for us to pursue.

In an article I wrote years ago, I encouraged readers to think of the church as your spiritual gifts test. It is the best place to receive honest feedback on your abilities, your readiness, and even your motives. True calling is affirmed by the community, not just by individual reflection. As we see in Acts 13, even though Paul and Barnabas were called by the Holy Spirit, it was the church who affirmed that calling. Timothy’s calling was affirmed by elders (1 Tim. 4:14). By God’s design, the church is an indispensable piece of discerning our callings.

Fulfill Your Calling

Finally, once you’ve wrestled with these questions and gained clarity, do what Paul told Timothy: “Fulfill your ministry” (2 Tim. 4:5). There comes a point when analysis must give way to action. Faithfulness means getting to work. The opportunities God provides will use your gifts to meet the needs around you—this is your calling.

Don’t overthink it. Take the next step, and trust that as you serve faithfully, God will guide you to fulfill your calling.



Awake! This Morn My Heart Would Rise

By / Mar 24

Editor’s Note: To encourage those considering a call to ministry, Midwestern Seminary is giving away an e-book copy of Christ Our All: Poems for the Christian Pilgrim by Charles Spurgeon during the month of March. Download your copy today and be encouraged by the reflections of a faithful minister as you follow the call of Christ.

Prayer: Awake! This Morn My Heart Would Rise[1]

Awake! This morn my heart would rise
Above this world to see thy face;
Beyond these narrow-cloudy skies
To gain from thee, supplies of grace.

Arise! O King thy people wait
To speak with thee, to feel thy love.
We come and waiting at thy gate,
Desire thy blessing from above.

Alone with thee, the world behind,
Our hearts are waiting thee to meet.
Still hoping in thy love to find
Our help while waiting at thy feet.

O can’st thou spurn us from thee[,] Lord
And disappoint each waiting soul?
Then thou must take away thy word,
Which bids us on thy name to call.

But wilt thou have us here to doubt
Thy goodness, love, forgiving heart?
Shall our petition be cast out?
Once sav’d, Lord, wilt thou from us part?

O Lord we cannot think of thee
With such hard thoughts, thy Life, thy Death
Thy rising, it was all for me
And all who love thee, Scripture saith.

For further reflection: Psalm 63:1–4

__________

[1] This poem was written by Charles Spurgeon and compiled by Geoffrey Chang in Christ Our All: Poems for the Christian Pilgrim (Brentwood, TN: B&H Academic, 2024), 24. It is reproduced at For the Church by permission of B&H Academic.



Surrender to Ministry

By / Mar 19

When I was a kid growing up in church, it was common to hear someone say, “I surrendered to ministry in 1968,” or, “It was on a Sunday night that I surrendered to ministry.” You don’t hear that kind of language much anymore—the word surrender. But it’s actually an incredibly powerful idea.

It doesn’t mean ministry is so bad, so hard, so awful that you finally give in to it. Rather, it means that God has placed a burden on your heart—so deep, so unavoidable—that you can’t give your vocational life to anything else but serving His church.

That word—burden—feels a little old-fashioned too, but it’s essential for understanding a pastor’s calling and staying in the race. Every pastor, at some point, receives a burden from God—a weight that pulls him toward vocational ministry. It’s not just a decision. It’s not just an opportunity. It’s a conviction, a compulsion, a sense that nothing else would be as faithful or as obedient to what God has put in his heart.

Most pastors I know could make more money doing something else. They could work fewer hours, have less stress, and deal with fewer challenges. And yet, they stay the course. Why? Because their heart aches for the church. Because they long to see it thrive. Because they want to be part of God’s work in a deep, meaningful way.

There’s been a lot written recently about why so many are leaving pastoral ministry. And yes, it is hard. But it’s always been hard. No one steps into this work because it’s an easy, stress-free job. We step in because we have a burden. Because God has placed in us an unshakable desire to see His church strong and healthy. Because we want to see the church reach its full potential for the glory of God.

If you want an easy job, go do something else. If you want to make money off churches without carrying their heaviest burdens, go be a church consultant or start a podcast. But brother, if God has given you a burden for His Church—if you long to see His people flourish no matter the cost—become a pastor, and stay a pastor. Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s exhausting. Even when you wonder if it’s worth it. Surrender to the burden of Christ’s bride and be faithful to that calling.

And if you do, one day, in the presence of the Lord, you’ll see the fullness of her beauty. You’ll share in the joy of Jesus as He looks upon the people you had the privilege to care for, disciple, teach, and shepherd. You’ll see how God used your faithfulness—how He took your prayers, your sermons, your tears, and your struggles, and He built something eternal.

Pastoral ministry is a heavy burden, but it is a beautiful burden. And I pray that God would lead many of His best to surrender to it—until we hear His words, “Well done.”