Encourage Discouraged Pastors

By / Apr 18

There are plenty of pastors with generous smiles on their faces each Sunday who, deep down, are very disheartened.

Pastoring a church is hard work. For one thing, it is usually thankless. I know there are some churches that seem to remember their pastors with such fanfare, but most do not ever esteem them. They don’t work for just the members ultimately, so they can get over it, but never hearing those words, “Thanks for what you do, pastor,” is discouraging. But you can remedy this one, can’t you? Perhaps right now is the best time to write that email or note, or to make a phone call.

Some pastors get discouraged because their people expect a Dr. Internationally Known Mountain, when what they really are stuck with is only Brother Molehill. Expectations are at an all time high in these days of exceptional media coverage. Every pastor is happy when a member listens to sermons every day, but he knows he doesn’t measure up to the gifted pastors these people hear most of the time.

Some are discouraged because they are physically worn out. It just takes a few sensitive members to help him remedy this problem by pulling him away from normal tasks for a break. A member who makes special efforts to show love to his or her pastors will never be forgotten. I used to have a man who took me to lunch each week just to talk. He would usually say something to encourage me and even slip me a $20 bill. He helped me immensely to keep perspective. Perhaps you can pull your pastor away for that fishing trip or golf outing. Such things are like a drink of cool water on a dry, dusty day. Paul said of Philemon, “You’ve often refreshed me.” Be like that.

Some are discouraged because they cannot resolve long-standing conflicts in the church. Churches have conflicts because they have people. Even the early churches had them. But pastors take these very hard, and long for conflict resolution.

Well, there may be other reasons pastors are discouraged. They aren’t perfect and can even bring more on themselves than is dealt to them by the church’s health.

What can you do? Perhaps more than anything else, just become your pastor’s friend. Friendship has a healing aspect to it. Open your home and care for them. Think of the pastor’s wife and kids. They need you also. I doubt that you could possible know what intentional love can do for those God has, in his providence, put over you in the Lord. Do what friends do—take them extra vegetables from the garden, invite them along for your trip to the Mexican restaurant in town, buy that scarf that you think the pastor’s wife will like. You’re not buying friendship, but nourishing it.

“Let them do this [the management of the church] with joy and not with grief, for this would be unprofitable to you,” the writer of Hebrews said. But I know you church members pretty well. When you get to thinking about it, you can do some amazing things for the pastors God has given you. Get started right now.

“Esteem them highly in love.”

Editor’s note: This article was originally published at ccwtoday.org. 



The Gospel Never Does Nothing

By / Apr 6

Christ who is the content of the gospel leaves no one in a neutral state.[1]

—Herman Bavinck

The one thing the gospel never does is nothing. Under the preaching of the gospel, no one remains the same. We are either moving closer to God or further from him. No one remains neutral. No one remains unchanged. We soften, or we harden.

Encountering Jesus is a life-altering event every time it happens. His word is always fresh. Even if we believe we know it, because he is God, his word is not returning void. Every time it is spoken, something happens. We fall in love with him, or we grow to despise him. We lean in, or we turn away. In every church meeting every Sunday morning, there is a massive movement in the hearts of people all over the world because of the gospel of Christ. Because Christ is the gospel, when we hear his word, we hear him, and when we hear him, we either fall down before him, or we run the other way. The one thing we don’t do is nothing.

It’s not always easy to perceive this movement. Perhaps we notice the leaning in more than the turning away. Yes, we can sprint in the other direction, but that’s not how it works for most of us. It’s more like drifting away at sea. The waves of doubt take us out. The depths of sin call us away. We move inch by inch, and we don’t see it until we’re further than we ever imagined we’d be.

Just as we can drift away, we can also inch closer. When Jesus melts our heart again and again, when his gospel surprises us with its grace and mercy, when we feel his love, and keep letting his love come into our heart, we step closer to him.

The one thing the gospel never does is nothing. No one remains in a neutral state.

God is in control of all things. He is sovereign. But he does ask us to believe him. Our only part in the gospel is our response to it. We either accept it or deny it. We either open our arms or cross them. We run toward or away. But we cannot stand motionless.

The good news of the gospel, of course, is that even if we jump a ship to Tarsus like our old friend Jonah, and even if a great fish swallows us up after we are thrown overboard, there is still hope. God still hears our cries in the deep, dark places of the stormiest sea. The gospel never does nothing, and because of that, there is always hope of redemption, even as there is always the danger of drifting away.

As long as Jesus is on this throne, as long as the Spirit blows like the wind wherever it will, as long as God is still a Father, there is hope. As we continually expose ourself to the gospel of Jesus Christ, and as we just open our empty hands before him, we can trust that he will do his work. He will not leave us as we are. He will increase our joy. He will soften our sorrows. He will heal our wounds. He will, if he must, even cause the fish to get sick and spit us upon his shores to witness his redemption.

God works in ways we can’t understand. The one thing we can be sure of, always, is that he works. He never does nothing. That’s good news.

[1] Herman Bavinck, The Wonderful Works of God: Instruction on the Christian Religion according to the Reformed Confession(Glenside, PA: Westminster Seminary Press, 2019), 399.

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published at thingsofthesort.com.



The Layered Path to God: Finding God in Truth, Goodness, and Beauty

By / Apr 4

The path to God is singular (i.e., Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life [see John 14:6]), but it is also layered. In fact, does not that famous passage—John 14:6—bear witness to the path’s layered-ness? Jesus is one Person in whom all three realities—Way, Truth, and Life—consist. When it comes to Jesus, there is therefore a unity-within-diversity and diversity-within-unity.

Three Stubborn Realities

Following the footsteps of Plato and Aristotle, many of the wisest philosophers and theologians have orbited their thoughts and writing around the ‘three Transcendentals’ of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. Though some [almost entirely modern] thinkers have tried to abandon such categories as relics of an old age, these three metaphysical Rascals keep showing up to the party. You can drag them through the mud of your modern philosophical assumptions (and presumptions), you can treat them as if they don’t exist, or you can blithely shrug at the fact that they do exist, and still, one fact remains: Truth, Goodness, and Beauty stand at the door and knock.

Longing for Embodiment

In Acts 17, the apostle Paul proclaims the good news of Jesus Christ to an incredibly diverse crowd of thinkers in the city of Athens. Among this crowd are Stoic and Epicurean philosophers (Acts 17:8), whose ancient philosophical ideas have made a (not-so-surprising) comeback among today’s public intellectuals.1 Smack-dab in the middle of this 1st-century TED talk, Paul says that God providentially places all peoples within their given localities “so that they might seek God, and perhaps… reach out and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us” (Acts 17:27). Soon after, he concludes his talk by doing what Christians have done ever since: calls people to repent of their sins and trust in Jesus for eternal salvation (Acts 17:30-31).

So, God is not far from you, right now, even as you sit and read this article. More than that, He’s calling you to “reach out and find Him.” He wants you to take hold of all that He is for you in Christ Jesus. He wants you to trust, in your heart of hearts, that Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; that He is the fullest embodiment of what those philosophers and theologians haven’t been able to run from; that he is Truth, Goodness, and Beauty “in human form” (Philippians 4:7).

For Those Who Are Lost (Non-believers)

You’ve heard echoes of the God who is Goodness, Beauty, and Truth, haven’t you? The echoes might have been faint, but even so, they’ve been unmistakably, and even hauntingly, there. In the fruity and bittersweet taste of morning coffee that leaves you feeling calm and collected (Goodness); in a sunrise or sunset that seems to beckon you upward and onward to Something in the beyond itself (Beauty); in the delightful book that leaves you pondering the deep and mysterious things of life, things which you know are there, even if you can’t see them (Truth).

Or maybe you’ve heard the echoes in the minor keys of your life. Maybe it was in the devastating loss of a young child (which cried out for Goodness); or the ugliness of a long-and-drawn-out divorce (which cried out for Beauty); or the falsehood of a lying “friend” or co-worker you once trusted (which cried out for Truth). What you experienced in these moments was not a sense of divine Fullness but a sense of the world’s emptiness, maybe even your own emptiness. These minor keys in your life have created an acute sense of absence in your heart and mind.

What I want to suggest is that, in all of these moments, moments of delightful Fullness and vacuous emptiness, the Lord Jesus Christ is inviting you to fall into His loving embrace. Out of his own Fullness, he is calling, “Come to me and receive more than you could ever imagine,” and in the darker moments of your own emptiness, he is saying, “Come to me and be filled until you are full and overflowing.” So, the ultimate question is: will you lay down your defenses and come to the One who is infinitely Good, Beautiful, and True? Will you enter His rest?

For Those Who Are Found (Believers)

If you are a Christian, then the same God who is Goodness, Beauty, and Truth has already drawn you to Himself by the very same means. Was it not your experience that the faint echoes of transcendence, at some point in your life, gave way to the full Melodies of “Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2)? And did you not receive Him with the empty hands of faith? If so, then you are now a new creation, walking in the midst of an age that is both old and passing away (see Galatians 1:4, 6:15).

And so here’s the trick: don’t forget about those echoes. Don’t forget the fact that God has called you out of evil, ugliness, and falsehood into his own Truth, Goodness, and Beauty (cf 1 Peter 2:9). In fact, the echoes of these things were the very means by which God awakened your dead and dying heart to resurrection Life. Furthermore, in Christ, every last echo you’ve experienced of these things in our fallen world will one day be redeemed and restored in the new heavens and new earth (Revelation 21:1-5). Thus, “God [will bring] everything together in Christ, both things in heaven and things on earth in him” (Ephesians 1:10).

There’s only one path to God, to be sure, but never forget: the path is layered with Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.

1 One thinks of the neuroscientist and philosopher Sam Harris, whose app Waking Up, resounds with Stoic and Epicurean philosophical thought.

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published at credomag.com. 



The Scariest Thing Jesus Ever Said

By / Feb 27

For some, the Bible is and should be a great comfort.

For others, it is and should be deeply disturbing.

Throughout the Bible, God heals with reassuring words of forgiveness, kindness, and welcome. Also throughout the Bible, God thunders with warnings meant to stir people toward repentance, restoration, and peace.

Jesus, the center of the biblical story, comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable. He gives grace to the humble and opposes the proud. He is kind to shame-filled prostitutes and fierce with self-filled Pharisees. He gives special attention to the poor and denounces those who ignore the poor.

Perhaps the scariest thing Jesus ever said is that at the final judgment, many will say to him, “Lord, Lord,” and he will respond, “I never knew you; depart from me” (Matthew 7:21–23). He will also say the following:

“Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the Devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me … Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me” (Matthew 25:41–45).

These words should jolt us, especially because they will be spoken to church folk. These are people like me who spent their lives attending church and reading their Bibles and giving their money and praying their prayers and getting their theology right and even preaching sermons and writing Christian books. And yet, like the ancient church at Laodicea, though they will have built reputations for being spiritually alive, Jesus will expose them as naked, poor, wretched, and blind (Revelation 3:14–22).

James, the half brother of Jesus and leader of the church at Jerusalem, linked genuine faith with an active concern for the poor. He wrote, “If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?” (James 2:15–16).

James answered his own question, saying, “So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead” (James 2:17).

Earlier in his letter, James said, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world” (James 1:27).

Both Jesus and James are putting a spotlight on our inclination to replace Jesus’ call to deny ourselves, take up our crosses, and follow him. We replace his call with a self-serving path in which we deny our neighbors, take up our comforts, and follow our dreams. When we do this, we exchange true faith for a counterfeit. We exchange irresistible faith with a way of thinking, believing and living that God himself will resist. Why is this so? Because demonstrating active concern for our neighbors—especially those whom Jesus calls “the least of these”—is an inseparable aspect of a true, Godward faith.

The apostle John, who was quite possibly Jesus’ closest friend on earth, gave a similar warning: “If anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth” (1 John 3:17–18).

One of my predecessors at Christ Presbyterian Church, Dr. Charles McGowan, says that our doctrine—that is, our stated scriptural beliefs about God, ourselves, our neighbor and the world—is the “skeleton” of our faith. Our doctrinal skeleton is a foundational, necessary structure around which the muscles, tendons, veins, and vital organs of faith must operate and grow. In other words, our doctrinal beliefs provide the foundation for our Scripture reading, listening to sound teaching, prayer, spiritual friendship, involvement in a local church, observance of the sacraments, and active love for our neighbors, including those who are without advantage among us.

As it is with the human body, so it is with faith: if the doctrinal “skeleton” is the only thing or even the main thing people can see when they look at our faith, it means either our faith is malnourished and sick, or it is dead.

Faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.

And a dead faith, like a dead corpse, is one of the scariest things of all.

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published at scottsauls.com. 



Valentine’s Day Meditation

By / Feb 14

It’s Valentine’s Day. The day that most people pretend to hate because they either don’t feel loved, or don’t want to show love, but mostly because they always wish the love they had was more intense, more real. So, it’s the day that we eat candy and have nice dinners and buy flowers and try to imagine a love that is so powerful that romance bursts out of us spontaneously, without even trying.  But for the most part, people are disappointed because they see that even love itself is too often a fleeting feeling that we can’t create even in the perfect of circumstances. That’s why love can’t be defined in terms of experience, merely, but must be defined in terms of underlying reality, eternally. A reality that shapes every day and every thing, not relegated to the convenient or designated times.

God is love (1 John 4:8). He is not love because we exist. That would mean he needs us to be who he is. We exist because of his love. Without that love of the Father, there would be no reason for us. That is the underlying eternal reality. Because God is love there has never been a day in all of existence that wasn’t defined by love. Love itself is the foundation and ground work, it is the structure and frame, the heartbeat and skeleton, the flesh and blood that reverberates throughout each day. So, why do we not feel it moment by moment?

If God is love and God upholds the universe by the word of his power (Hebrews 1:3) would not love then be even the ruling reality of the universe? It’s more than foundational, it’s governmental as well. The love of God literally sustains the entire cosmos. Love then is meant to be intense and real because God himself is intense and real and God himself is love.

So, here on Valentine’s Day we look out on all those disappointed in the world. Their experience of love isn’t working. They feel let down. They feel betrayed. They feel as if something as good as love should be more real and so why isn’t it? Simply put, their eyes are too low.

God is love. I am not love. I love, but I’m not Love. But God is. So, on Valentine’s Day, if we want love, we have to raise our sights to him. We wouldn’t go to someone who has water and expect for them to be the satisfying reality of water. We must go to the water itself for that. So, if we want real love, shouldn’t we go to the source? And the good news is that this Love isn’t unavailable to us. He is there. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

Do you want a love that exceeds even the most thrilling of Valentine’s Days? Go to him and get it. After all, it’s the most real thing in the universe. Ultimate reality is a God who is love.

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published at thingsofthesort.com. 



Good Shame, Bad Shame, and Ugly Shame

By / Feb 13

Shame is a popular word today. Sometimes preachers like to substitute the word “sin” for “shame,” as if the antithesis to a whole and fulfilled life is a life free of shame. In this respect, such pastors do not sharply contrast with the rest of our world. If our culture is anything, it is on a mission to rid ourselves of shame. Of course, if you think the antithesis to a whole and fulfilled life is shame, this will shape how you go about seeking wholeness and fulfillment (and not at all in a good way). If shame is the primary problem, shamelessness is the solution. This is why our world is intent on ridding ourselves of all absolute standards of morality. The sexual revolution is nothing if not a grand attempt to whistle in the dark and wish our consciousness away. If shame often comes from the transgression of sin, there is nothing to do but rule sit out as a category. There are no taboos anymore. If someone else’s sexual sin causes you to have a reaction of disgust, we are told, that says more about you than it does them. There is no accident to the fact that the phrase “you do you” is often coupled with the phrase “no shame.” We vehemently hate the shame that accompanies knowledge of moral transgression, so we erase the idea of moral transgression. There is no nature nor command behind sexuality—it is what I want it to be. Christians should steer clear of this kind of wholesale antipathy for shame. 

Christians should steer clear of this kind of wholesale antipathy for shame. Shame is not our sworn enemy. Sometimes shame is useful. Some sins should cause us to have reactions of disgust! The Scriptures often appeal to shame at various points. Much of the time, shame is an indication of a conscience that still functions properly. It is often the rightful corresponding emotion to shameful acts.

Bad Shame

Having said that, undue shame is a horrible thing. Shame that persists wrongly is not good. This would include, for example, shame for a sin that was committed against you. Victims often feel shame for sins that their oppressors should feel shame for. In such situations, shame is doubly perverted; where it should be absent in the psyche of the victim, it is overactive, and where it should be present with a vengeance in the psyche of the oppressor, it is altogether absent. I can tell you most assuredly that the cure is not a look inward—you keep looking inward and you will only find more reasons for more shame.

Another kind of undue shame is that kind that hangs onto sins that have been truly confessed, repented of, and forgiven by Christ. This kind of shame, while it may feel pious, is actually dishonoring to Christ. It cheapens his blood and essentially says that Christ’s atonement is not sufficient—it needs to be supplemented with wallowing shame. So, the opposite of shame is not shamelessness; the opposite of shame is a humble gratitude for forgiveness. Now, it’s easy for me to say that in the abstract—“let go of the shame for the sins that Christ has atoned for and cleansed you of”—but practically, this is easier said than done.

I’ve recently read Shakespeare’s tragedy, Hamlet, for the very first time, and was reminded of the power of shame in a scene with the King of Denmark, Claudius. Now, I won’t give away too much of the story, but I will say that Claudius is Hamlet’s uncle, and he was made King after conspiring against and murdering Hamlet’s father—the rightful King of Denmark. In one scene, Claudius is struck with the shame of his guilt and says this:

O, my offense is rank, it smells to heaven;

It hath the primal eldest curse upon’t,

A brother’s murder. Pray can I not,

Though inclination be as sharp as will.

My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,

And like a man to double business bound

I stand in pause where I shall first begin,

And both neglect. What if this cursed hand

Were thicker than itself with brother’s blood,

Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow?

Claudius could not bring himself to pray because of the shame of guilt. He had committed the “primal eldest curse,” the same sin as Cain—the murder of a brother. And he asks, “What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother’s blood?” In other words, “What if there is more of my brother’s blood on my hand than there is my own flesh and bone?” In that case, is it even likely that heaven has enough rain to wash the guilt away? Have you ever felt paralyzed by the guilt of your sin like this? Have you ever been paralyzed by shame? What’s the cure?” Well I can tell you most assuredly that the cure is not a look inward—you keep looking inward and you will only find more reasons for more shame.

Worthy in Christ

The cure for this kind of paralyzing shame is not to search for how precious you are, it is to behold how precious Christ is, and what an unfathomable grace he has shown to bring about your reconciliation. If you are in Christ Jesus, you should remember that our Triune God did not wait for you to even realize your sin before acting on your behalf. The cure for this kind of shame is to be reminded that Christ was not compelled to lay his life down for you by your beauty—you had none. It is not our intrinsic worth that is seen in the gospel—as if God simply could not be happy until we were restored to him in salvation. No, friends, it works the other way around. It’s not that Christ was compelled to pay such a price because we were so worthy, but rather, we are now made worthy because of the infinite price he paid to purchase us.

“Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. More than that, we rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation” (Romans 5:9-11).

If you are in Christ Jesus, you should remember that our Triune God did not wait for you to even realize your sin before acting on your behalf. You were at your lowest—your ugliest, and most shameful—when Christ came for you. He did not save you on your best day, but on your worst. God did not stand afar off, aloof, with his arms crossed, waiting for you to work up the courage to come and ask for forgiveness. As if to say, “You got a lot of nerve showing up here…” No, Christ came to you at your lowest and he positively transformed you from an enemy to a friend. The Father’s overflowing, gushing love for you he displayed when he sent his Son to win your reconciliation with his life, and purchase your reconciliation with his death—all while you were breathing out venom and hatred and rebellion towards him. That is news good enough to put undue shame to shame.

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published at credomag.com. 



What About Me Right Now?

By / Feb 8

Promises, promises.

God’s announcement of His plan of salvation and blessing to His people in Christ is one of the unifying themes integrating the message and the deeds of the Old and New Testaments. All throughout the Bible, God’s people have received the gift and legacy of God’s divine promises.

After the fall into sin, we immediately have the first gospel promise (Gen. 3:15). This is soon followed by covenantal promises with mankind represented by Noah (Gen. 8:21–22). Then, we see continued promises with Israel in the person of Abraham (Gen. 12:2–3; 15:18–21), in the assemblage of Israel at Sinai (Ex. 19:5–6), and in the “new covenant” (Jer. 31:31–34).

Within that framework, we find God promising and blessing his people, through Moses, with redemption from bondage in Egypt. There is the promised land, rest, light, and most importantly, the promised Messianic deliverer. In the promised Messiah, “all the promises of God find their Yes in him” (2 Cor. 1:20). Those of us who live in this messianic age of the kingdom await the blessed promise of his return: “waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:13).

In Isaiah, chapters 1–39 focus on judgment and chapters 40–66 on hope. While there are glimpses of hope in chapters 1-39 and glimpses of judgment in 40-66, the reader who comes to Isaiah 40:1, feels the relief it brings: “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.” This promise of comfort is embodied in the Servant of the Lord in the four poetic Servant songs (Is. 42-55). In the first song, the Servant, empowered by God’s Spirit, will bring forth justice (revelation) to the nations (Isaiah 42:1-4). In the second, the Servant will be a light to the nations and lead his people to the Jerusalem above (49:1–6). The New Testament clearly identifies the Servant as Jesus Christ.

These amazing Servant songs of promise provide a peek behind the curtain of God’s eternal plan to deliver his people, summing up all things in Christ (Eph. 1:10). In response to this prophetic look into future deliverance we find this statement: “But Zion [Jerusalem] said, ‘The Lord has forsaken me; my Lord has forgotten me’” (Isaiah 49:14). Why? I am sure the reason given would be, “Look around! Promises, promises. But what about now? Based on what I see I feel forgotten and forsaken, not loved!” The people returning from Babylonian captivity had legitimate reasons to feel defeated and despondent. They saw ruins and rubble.

Based on the circumstances we see around us, we too seem to have many reasons to believe contrary to gospel promises and to exclaim, “But what about me, right now?” What do we do when what we feel and see is at odds with the hope of the promises? How do we reconcile the reality of what we see with the promises of what we do not see?

What about when the promise is, “Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth; break forth, O mountains, into singing!” (Isaiah 49:13), but what you see is the very place of worship itself in rubble, reduced to a pile of rocks that makes you want to weep rather than sing? Revelation 7:16 can feel so distant: “They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat.”

Here is a sad truth: sometimes we prefer the safety of our misery to the promises of God. We actually become comfortable in surrendering to our own misery. We make peace with it, envisioning ourselves a heroic figure because we endure it. We can begin to think, “I know I matter because I’m pressing ahead in this misery.” 

If this narrative were to change, it would mess with our story. Acting on the promises of God is often frightening because doing so will inevitably lead to change. Acting on the promises of God will take us to places we would never go if we did not. The peace we have made with our misery will be disturbed.

But in the freeing gifts of God’s promises, he beckons us to something braver, an arena where we are no longer the center. He welcomes us into a reality, where what he promises eclipses what we feel. It does not often feel like victory. The sinless Son of God crucified did not look or feel like a victory. In fact, all across the Bible, obedience rarely ever immediately looks like victory. As 1 Peter relentlessly reminds us, it is suffering that leads to glory for Christ and us (1 Peter 1:6-12, 3:13-4:19).

Believers must actively surmount the evidence to the contrary with the reality of eternal gospel promises. God’s promises are the story of the believer’s life; the challenges, setbacks, and obstacles are but the footnotes of the story. When we fail to see the reality of the promises, we are guilty of what Israel was rebuked for in Isaiah 1-36: attempting to secure hope by stealing from other sources such as alliances with or acceptance from worldly powers. The fear of nations and the fear of man both demonstrate a failure to reverently fear God (Gal. 1:10). 

No matter what you are going through, there is purpose in it. How do you know? Because the greatest act of injustice in the history of the cosmos is the perfect son of God crucified like a guilty sinner. This is a seemingly senseless act, that in the wisdom of God provides the only way we can be saved. We may see rubble but we also see a cross and an empty tomb. This is the nature of faith. It always has been. After all, the Suffering Servant of the Lord tells us, “Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49:16).

Promises, promises. Yes, and Amen!

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published at davidprince.com.



The Bible Warned Us About This

By / Jan 30

It feels all too common. I open Twitter and find news I wish wasn’t true. I hope it’s not true. But as I read I realize, tragically, it is all too true. A well-known Christian leader has fallen. He wasn’t what he seemed to be. His sins, as the Bible promises, have found him out (Numbers 32:23).

I could list names, but you know them. We all do. Each one, whether in our theological tribe or not, causes grief. They seemed so gifted, so persuasive for Christ, so used by Christ. How could they do what they did? What will happen now? What else don’t we know?

Ancient Israel knew the feeling. In the Old Testament, we find the most complete biography of anyone in the ancient world: King David. From his anointing to his death, we live David’s life along with him through the books of 1 and 2 Samuel and, perhaps more poignantly, through the Psalms. All of David’s life is before us—his righteousness and his sins, his faithfulness and his disobedience, his heroics and his failures. It’s all there for the reading and the re-reading.

As the story begins, 1 Samuel 16-26 tell of David’s ascent. Samuel anoints him as king. Saul welcomes him into the palace. Jonathan befriends him and helps him. When Saul eventually turns on him, God clearly protects and delivers David from all evil. He’s the golden child who can do no wrong. Even when his men plead with him to execute Saul as he is at the mouth of the cave, David strongly denies them. He will not put his hand against the Lord’s anointed. Not once, but twice, David proves he means it.

After David spares Saul’s life a second time in 1 Samuel 26, he refuses to return home to Israel. He still fears Saul, and rightly so. But instead of staying where he is, David flees to a surprising place: into the land of the Philistines, Israel’s arch-enemy.

Go read 1 Samuel 27. It’s not a bright spot in David’s life.

In fact, it’s difficult to know what to do with it. Faithful David seems lost. He gives himself over to a foreign king in a foreign land, hiring himself out as a mercenary. Though the cities he raids aren’t Israel’s, he lies about what he’s doing, kills everyone so no one can break his cover, and puts himself in a deeply compromising situation. It’s the kind of season of David’s life that he wouldn’t put on his resume. Reading it later on as a member of the nation of Israel would have surely been jarring. His actions seem so out of character. No inquiring God for direction. Just merciless killing and lying. By this point of the story, we’ve become fans of David. It was clear he was the chosen one, the king Israel longed for. But why does it feel like a different person in this chapter?

As commentator Dale Ralph Davis says, by the time we finish the chapter, we’ve likely become an angry reader. Perhaps we even feel betrayed by him. Who is this David? What is he doing? These are the kinds of things that we’d see on the back-alleys of Twitter today, the rumors we hope aren’t true.

David is a sympathetic figure. He’s relentlessly hunted by Saul. He’s away from home. David is as good a guy as a good guy can get. But now? He’s a disappointment. There isn’t even a mention of God 1 Samuel 27. That’s no oversight. It’s an insight into David’s mindset. Far from depending upon God in the wilderness, he’s left him to make his own path.

For all the questions we have about David, Dale Ralph Davis helps us see what’s going on inside our hearts as we read the story

Did you ever think that perhaps the writer is trying to correct your mistake? Yes, you, Bible reader that you are, may have fallen into the trap of hero worship, of looking on your pet Bible characters and exalting them too highly. Why should you be surprised, shocked, off ended? Why should you talk about “betrayal”? The text is saying that this chosen, anointed servant is made of the same stuff as all the Lord’s people. Must we throw out God’s kingdom because not only its subjects but even its premier servants are sinners? Karl Gutbrod is right: the text will not allow us to view Saul with only contempt and save nothing but admiration for David; the text resists every attempt to make David the mirror of all virtue.[1]

What Davis says about looking on our pet Bible characters and exalting them too highly has sprung out of the Bible and into the Church. We do this all the time, don’t we? A gifted preaches rises to prominence and we jump on the bandwagon. We don’t mean to make more of him than we ought, but it happens anyway. His leadership seems impressive. People come to Christ from his preaching. He moves us deeply, and we thank God for him.

Then it crumbles.

Heroes fall apart.

All but one.

And that’s the point. That’s where a chapter like 1 Samuel 27 can help us. There is only one hero. Others may good models in some areas, maybe even in most areas, but all but Christ are fallen.

The Bible warned us about this. We could overlook David’s actions here, but even if we do, we cannot when he takes advantage of Bathsheba and kills her husband. David’s sins, too, will find him out, and the whole nation will be impacted.

Putting our faith in someone other than Jesus will inevitably lead to disappointment. Yet we do it anyway. That’s why it hurts so bad when our heroes fall.

The solution isn’t to never have a hero. I don’t think we can live that way. We need someone to look up to. We just must be sure we’re looking to the right one. Jesus is all the hero we will ever need with none of the failures of all the others.

He will never let us down.

[1] Dale Ralph Davis, 1 Samuel: Looking on the Heart, Focus on the Bible Commentary (Scotland: Christian Focus Publications, 2000), 286–287.

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published at thingsofthesort.com. 



Considering Grief

By / Jan 26

My kids love stories, and honestly, I would argue that we all do.

I remember around the age of ten, my dad would read a chapter of the Hardy Boys before bed. As my brothers and I listened, we would become engulfed in the story. However, as exciting as it was, there was always a quiet depression that would begin to set in upon realizing that the chapter was ending. 

As we consider grief there are three points that we should consider:

  1. Realizing Grief Will Come

Many times, the experience of a loved one’s death will bring the same sense of Déjà vu as their story comes to an end. Since the fall, loss has become a continued reality. The scriptures explain that as the descendants of Adam, humanity longs to do whatever can be done to add to the story of life. In the book of Hebrews, the author explains this by saying, that because of the fall, all have been placed under the bondage of death and will do anything and everything to outrun it. (Heb. 2:15) However, just as God brought grace to the garden after the fall, there is grace for our grieving as well.

  1. Redeeming Our Grief

The good news, the grace, is that the scriptures also give the hope that there is One that has already outrun death on our behalf. When faced with grief, the story of redemption and the new Creation gives hope and comfort. Without the story of redemption pointing to the future, those who grieve must settle for memories of the past. Memories that, while they are wonderful to enjoy, only leave emptiness, longing, and sorrow. (1 Thess. 4:13) But it is in the story of redemption that graces for grieving can be found. Isaiah writes that Christ took our griefs and bore the sorrows that we could never bear. (Is. 53:4) Grief for the sins that we or a loved one committed were borne by Him. The grief over times of failure has been swallowed up by His success. The grief that the loved one has departed is turned into a hope that we will see them again. Because of Christ, even in grief, redemption can be celebrated.

  1. Resting in Peace

The time at the grave is utterly difficult and the pain of loss is terrible, but it is at an open tomb that we can find an unexplainable peace. As believers, we don’t have to grieve like the rest of the world. (1 Thess. 4:13) We know that because of Christ’s declaration that “it is finished”, we have the promise that the sting of death has been taken away. Because of this, we can rest in peace knowing that at the end of the book of the believer’s life, God has written: “to be continued.” 



How to (Actually) Reach Your City for Christ

By / Jan 18

This is a story about how a really discouraging Easter led to one of the healthiest seasons in the life of our church.

We had been working hard for months to plan the service, outreach events, and more. We spent money on door-hangers, invitation cards, and Facebook ads. Mission teams and church members went door-to-door, inviting thousands of people to our Easter services. Finally, when Easter arrived, I stood in our church lobby, eagerly waiting to see who the Lord would bring into our doors that day.

And after all of that effort, we had a whopping grand total of two first-time guests, one of which was a Christian visiting from out-of-town. Incidentally, neither of them heard about our services as a result of any of our expensive, labor-intensive “marketing” efforts.

After all of those weeks of planning and really hard work, we had one non-Christian from our city come to our service that day.

After a long morning of church activities, my kids fell asleep in the car while we made the hour-long trek to my parents’ home for more Easter festivities. And as our car rolled down the interstate, I began to reflect on the day.

That Easter, I was reminded that hosting big, splashy services wasn’t going to be an effective strategy for seeing lives changed in our post-Christian city. I realized that if we were going to see people come to Christ, it was usually going to happen as individuals reached out to their friends, neighbors, and co-workers.

So we launched an effort in our church, encouraging every member to read Mark’s Gospel with a non-Christian friend. I created some discussion guides to use, a simple tool to help our church members have confidence to open God’s Word with people that don’t know him.

In the past six months, our people have responded incredibly. More than half of our members have started one-on-one Bible studies with non-Christians, and God’s Word is going out to more and more people.

Jesus seemed to do ministry this way. He spent much of his time and energy investing in twelve and he frequently departed from a place once a crowd began to form (Matthew 8:18, Mark 1:38). In the same way, Paul’s letters to Timothy don’t contain practical guidelines on attracting a big crowd. Instead, they encourage Timothy to teach a few “faithful men who will be able to teach others also” (1 Timothy 2:2). The norm in the Christian life seems to be the gospel going from one person to another. One at a time.

So pastors, work to equip every member in your church to “do the work of an evangelist.” Just consider these comparisons:

  • An attractional service enables a few people to use their gifts in a public setting. But if everyone in your church is engaged in evangelistic Bible reading, then everyone is involved in God’s work and using their God-given gifts.
  • An attractional service enables us to reach people one day a week. But if everyone in your church is engaged in evangelistic Bible reading, then we know God’s Word is going out from our church seven days a week.
  • An attractional service enables us to invite people to an event. But if everyone in your church is engaged in evangelistic Bible reading, then people are engaged where they already are. People may be uncomfortable to come a church service but are willing to read with a friend.
  • An attractional service enables us to reach a few guests every week. But if everyone in your church is engaged in evangelistic Bible reading, then we have the potential to reach many more. Everyone in our churches knows a bunch of people. What are we doing to equip them to share Christ with those people?

Whenever I encourage our church to read the Bible with a non-Christian friend, I always tell them that they will be surprised by three things:

  • You will be surprised about how equipped you are to do it. God has given you gifts. If you know the gospel, you can share it with others.
  • You will be surprised about how willing non-Christians are. Our church has been asking non-Christians to read Mark’s Gospel with them for six months, and I’ve only heard about one person getting rejected. People are willing to read the Bible and consider the claims of Christ.
  • You will be surprised about how much fruit comes. God’s Word never returns void (Isaiah 55:11) and faith comes through hearing the Word (Romans 10:17). When we share God’s Word with non-Christians, the Lord will act. And it will be glorious.

 

Pastors, you have been called by God to pursue a “ministry of reconciliation,” calling sinners to know the one true God (2 Corinthians 5:18). This ministry comes to us (and all Christians) “by the mercy of God” (2 Corinthians 4:1). So don’t hog God’s mercy; invite your church to get involved.