Redeeming Pastoral Ambition

By / Feb 16

Forest fires rage each year in California and Arizona in the summer consuming everything in their path. Saplings as new as the spring and mature trees as old as the Declaration of Independence are scorched to ash. Too often, our desire for greatness is like that—an all-consuming fire.

CORRUPTING TRUE GREATNESS

The Bible recounts story after story of men and women who sought their own greatness. We see this in godless rulers such as Pharaoh in the book of Exodus and Nebuchadnezzar in the book of Daniel. Sometimes we see worldly glory seekers among the faithful, like when God rebuked Jeremiah’s trusted scribe, saying, “And do you seek great things for yourself? Seek them not” (Jeremiah 45:5).

Yet the quest for glory still rages. Incalculable amounts of exertion, passion, money, and skill are employed in the pursuit. If we could know our own hearts perfectly, we’d have to admit that this is our story too. Some vision of greatness, whether consciously or not, tugs us along. It seems to be the subject of every commencement speech. “Go change the world,” ambitious graduates are told, which usually means, “Go become great in the eyes of the world.” Our current culture of side-hustles can stoke discontentment too; at times I’ve struggled to feel like my calling to pastor a local church is enough, as though if I did more then I’d be something more worthwhile. I’m probably not the only pastor who feels this way.

The disciples of Jesus had this same problem. In Mark 9, after beholding the glory of their Lord in his transfiguration, Mark tells us the disciples engaged in quite possibly the dumbest argument in the history of the world: a fight over which of the disciples was the greatest.

The context of the conversation makes their argument even more ridiculous. Consider what happened in Mark 9. Jesus revealed his glory on the mountain, showing he’s not weak and feeble but strong and glorious. Jesus then received the stamp of approval from God the Father and was highlighted as far more important than Moses and Elijah, two significant Old Testament prophets. Then Jesus victoriously battled a demon which had previously defeated the disciples. Then Jesus promised to rise from the dead, invoking imagery of himself as the exalted “Son of Man” figure mentioned in Daniel 7:9–14. The grossly understated takeaway from Mark 9 is that Jesus is a big deal.

When Jesus asks the disciples what they discussed, Mark says they kept silent because “on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest” (9:34). They won’t answer because of shame. They’ve got hands in the cookie jar but reckon that if they slide the jar behind someone’s back, well, maybe Jesus won’t know.

But he knows. He sees the crumbs on the floor and the chocolate on their cheeks. Their petty and myopic argument about worldly greatness is sin, just like when we pastors size each other up at conferences and seminary students view classmates as competitors.

THE INVITATION TO TRUE GREATNESS

Zack Eswine notes in his book The Imperfect Pastor that ambition has a certain “arson” to it. That’s certainly true. But if we read Jesus’s words carefully, we’ll see Jesus doesn’t want to put the fire out. He wants to douse our desire for greatness with gasoline.

You might expect Jesus to issue a harsh rebuke. I mean, he is a prophet, and prophets do that sort of thing from time to time. Instead what they got—and what we get—is patience. He teaches; he instructs; he redefines; and he redirects. We would fire these disciples and hire others. But Jesus loves them. He tells them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” Notice the exact phrasing: “servant of all,” not just servant of the greats, like servant of a famous pastor or a seminary president. His point is that the greatness of our service is enhanced not diminished by the lack of greatness of those we serve.

For us visual learners, Jesus goes on to illustrate his point. He called a child to himself, took the child in his arms, and said to the disciples, “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me” (9:37). Jesus implies that greatness is receiving children because they are a specific example of the broader principle of servanthood. In receiving children, Jesus shows us that true greatness—by his definition—is serving, loving, and caring for the needs of people who cannot repay you.

THE REDEMPTION OF GREATNESS

Of course, the disciples don’t get it—not before the cross and resurrection, anyway. As Luke records, even during the last supper with Jesus, this same argument flared among them. “And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he said, ‘Take this, and divide it among yourselves. . . . A dispute also arose among them, as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest” (Luke 22:17, 24).

Christ’s lesson on true greatness didn’t stick. Ultimately we need more than a lesson or an invitation. We need redemption. Our definition of greatness is too corrupt. We all have in us what comedian Brian Regan calls the “me-monster.” I give away 20% of my income. I memorized the book of Ephesians. I have 2,000 Facebook friends. My church had a dozen baptisms last month. I bench press 350 lbs. and run marathons. I . . . I . . . I . . .

Jesus told his disciples, “I am among you as the one who serves” (Luke 22:27). Indeed he was. And his service to sinners leads him to the cross where he dies for our sins, including those we commit pursuing greatness in the eyes of the world. And he redeems our corruption and shows us a better way. If you want to change the world, have the ultimate side-hustle, and be a modern prince of preachers, then by the grace of God be a servant of all.

Editor’s Note: This post originally appeared at the 9Marks blog and is used with permission.



The Blessing of a Bothered Conscience

By / Feb 16

The Infused Courtroom

The Apostle Paul unfolds for us in Romans 2 that even the Gentiles who don’t have the Law actually know it by nature because it “is written on their hearts” (2:15).

Paul then communicates to us the global, natural purpose of this God-infused courtroom in the heart of every man: to either accuse or excuse (2:15b). Therefore, every one knows God’s Law (literally: con [with] + science [knowledge]). Every sin, every trespass against God’s moral Law expressed in the 10 Commandments is a known sin, i.e. the sinner knows that when they lied, committed adultery, stole, blasphemed God’s name, etc. is wrong. And their conscience will either accuse them or excuse them. The unbeliever knows with absolute certainty that it is sinful to lie on that paperwork at the office — and so does the one who has been born again. So, what is the difference?

Bothered, or a Holy Bothered

Perhaps one of the most concrete examples of this distinction can be found in the life of Joseph in Genesis 39. At this point in Joseph’s life, he has been bought by Potiphar (the captain of the guard in Egypt) as a slave to work in his house. Thus, after some time he moves up the ranks and is now the in charge of Potiphar’s house and is entrusted with the care of it all!

Enter Potiphar’s wife who finds the very handsome Joseph, handsome (v.6-7). She throws herself at Joseph and Joseph responds thus: “[Potiphar has not] kept back anything from me except you, because you are his wife. How then can i do this great wickedness and sin against God?” (39:9).

According to Roman 2, the typical unbeliever might respond with thoughts similar to Joseph’s, but different. And the distinction is an eternity of difference.

If Joseph was a pagan, he may initially respond the way he did with a “No, I better not; you’re the boss-man’s wife.” But, then, he could think, “Well, Potiphar is a jerk. And his wife is here alone with me. And who would find out anyway?” It is possible to keep sin enclosed and secret for a lengthy amount of time if there is the utmost precaution. The sinner’s conscience would be, by the Apostle’s authority, bothered. It would accuse him to do that to someone; adultery against another man’s wife, even to a pagan, is pretty messed up at the least — especially considering the coming angry husband if he finds out (cf. Proverbs 6:30-35).

Even unbelievers can have a bothered conscience — but Joseph had a holy bothered conscience. His concern was not primarily against his neighbor, but against God.

Signs of Life

Christian, consider your life. When you have the opportunity (or are in the act of) to sin, your conscience is going to sound like the tornado alarm — similar to a pagan’s. But, consider the strength of your conscience’s appeal: not to man, but to God. Yes, part of obeying our conscience is loving our neighbor as the Law is summed up with; but the primary offender of breaking God’s Law is always God first and primarily (cf. Psalm 51).

Do you know that loud, keeping-you-awake-at-night, bothersome conscience? Do you feel that holy bothered conscience? Thought it is painful, though it is strong — when you respond in repentance and faith in God’s Law and God’s promise and find your conscience clean before the Lord, rejoice! Rejoice that this is a sign of your being made alive together with Christ (Ephesians 2:4-5)! Your new and highest desire is to please the Lord, to fear God and to keep his commandments because they have been supernaturally written on your heart as part of the New Covenant (cf. Jeremiah 31:31-34). Unbelievers do not feel any inclination towards offending the God that created them because there is no fear of God before their eyes (Romans 3:18). Their main thought in this process is one of great rebellion, as if God didn’t exist in the first place (Psalm 10:4).

When God’s Word convicts you and accuses you of trespassing God’s Law, your conscience will loudly remind you and accuse you for your good. You have a fear of God before your eyes. It is good that this is your experience; this is a gracious blessing that the Spirit has worked within you. You are alive to Christ and his glory! How could you sin against that God?

Your Conscience Before the Court

The good news of the gospel is that as you stand before God, Christian, you can do so with a clean conscience cleansed from evil (Hebrews 10:22) because you are standing in the New Covenant. We can have full assurance that God has declared us righteous in Christ because of “the blood of Jesus” (Hebrews 10:19). Your final courtroom day before the Most High will be one of absolute freedom of judgment for your sins, there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ. Therefore, rest in Christ’s work for your rest and safety from condemnation and not in your conscience, ultimately.

But, because of Christ’s work for you and his cleansing blood, we must listen to and work to obey our conscience when it accuses us before God and his Law. Seek direction from God’s Word and renewal by seeing more of his revealed will in the Scriptures. Desire wisdom and direction from your local church and your pastor on issues where you are unclear or unsure. Trust your conscience by binding it to God’s Word. And may we sing with Charles Wesley:

Almighty God of truth and love,
to me thy power impart;
the mountain from my soul remove,
the hardness from my heart.
O may the least omission pain
my reawakened soul,
and drive me to that blood again,
which makes the wounded whole.



Don’t Run to the Hills!

By / Feb 15

“A Song of Ascents. I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD is your keeper; the LORD is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.” (Psalm 121)

Psalm 121 is designated a “Song Of Ascents”—one in a collection of psalms for pilgrim-worshipers as they made the journey to the temple site in Jerusalem for festal worship (1 Ki. 12:28; Ps. 122:3-4). The mountains along the road that led to the city featured many pagan worship sites, which were often advertised as being able to offer protection from bandits who preyed on unwitting travelers by night and from the dangerous heat of the mid-day sun. Such constant threats tempted pilgrims to settle for worshiping with the pagans in the mountains rather than with God’s people in Jerusalem. To make matters worse, pagan priests and cult prostitutes stood alongside the road, trying to coax less resolute travelers into the hills.

Lifting their eyes, these exhausted pilgrims faced a choice. Would they settle for false worship in the hills with its promise of immediate relief? Or would they remain on the road and trust that God would be faithful to bring them to their destination? That’s what the psalmist is asking in verse 1, “From where does my help come?” Then in verse 2 comes the answer: “My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth!  “

We, like these ancient travelers, would do well to see ourselves as pilgrim-worshipers walking in the Spirit toward an Everlasting City “whose designer and builder is God” (Heb. 11:10). Along the way, we are coaxed by a pagan world. Its siren songs bellow from the side of the road, advertising false promises:

Want to be immovable? We have just the product for you—got that (overused) credit card ready? Want to preserve your life? Consider divorce—isn’t your family really just an obstacle to your authenticity and happiness? Want to keep yourself from evil? Take another peek at that porn site and don’t think about it too much—who’s to say what’s evil anyway?

On and on they go, tempting us to believe there’s a better life awaiting us in the hills. All we need to do is worship their gods, they claim, and we’ll have everything we’ve ever wanted—protection, security, pleasure, satisfaction. But listen to their siren songs closely enough, and you’ll soon realize that something is askew. If you’re starting to get the feeling that their whole sales pitch is a ruse, you’re absolutely right. Psalm 121 blows their cover:

Want to be immovable? God will not let you be moved. Want to preserve your life? He is your keeper. Want to keep yourself from evil? He will keep you from all evil.

God’s Word cuts through the noise and counters the world’s phony sales pitches with His unbreakable promises. Hearing His voice, we have a decision to make. Will we settle for the idols of our pagan culture? Or will we stay on the pilgrim way, devoting ourselves to worshiping the God whose sovereignty and faithfulness infinitely surpass anything this world can offer? You know the answer: it’s time to stop running back to those old hills—they can’t deliver what they promise. Instead, lift your eyes to them and defiantly declare, “My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth!” Then keep moving toward that Everlasting City.



Sermon Delivery Matters

By / Feb 12

“Sermon delivery does not matter. The content of the sermon is what matters,” the student stridently asserted. As his preaching professor, I said, “The delivered sermon is the content.” I pressed a bit further, asking him, “What do you think constitutes the content of the sermon?” He did not have much of an answer but it was clear that in his mind his sermon notes were the content of the sermon.

But a sermon is not what you write. A sermon is what you say. Nothing about a sermon is atheological, including the verbal delivery of the sermon. What is said in the sermon cannot be severed from how it is said. Sadly, in evangelical preaching circles, talking about sermon delivery of the content is often treated as an afterthought in homiletics. There is an almost gnostic-like separation of the sermonic ideas written on paper, viewed as spiritual, and sermon delivery, which is treated as a discomfiting less relevant addendum.

The idea that uninspiring sermon delivery could be taken as a virtue is a bizarre proposition. How could indifference to the delivery of a sermon be proof that you take the task of preaching seriously? I once heard a group of self-styled sophisticated evangelical types almost mocking John Piper because of his passionate and energetic delivery. I asked, “Do you think it is fake passion? An over-dramatized act or genuine?” Their answer was that it is genuine but still dangerous. I told them to sign me up for that kind of dangerous passion.

Such an attitude is a far cry from Martin Luther who declared, 

The church is not a pen house, but a mouth house. For since the advent of Christ the gospel, which used to be hidden in the Scriptures, has become an oral preaching. And thus it is the manner of the New Testament and of the gospel that it must be preached and performed by word of mouth and a living voice. Christ himself has not written anything, nor has he ordered anything to be written, but rather to be preached by word of mouth.” (Wood, Captive to the Word, 90).

Some misappropriate Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 2:1 to sustain this delivery-does-not-matter view of preaching, “And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom.” But they miss the point entirely. It is the delivered message of Christ crucified that his opponents objected to and would have had him neglect. 

No matter how well and persuasive Paul proclaimed biblical truth, they did not want to hear about a crucified Messiah. The only way, according to them, Paul could have lofty speech or wisdom was to abandon the proclamation of the cross. 

According to Paul’s opponents, “the word of the cross is folly” (1 Cor 1:18). Unlike the wisdom teachers and the rhetoricians who paraded their cleverness, Paul did not speak of himself but “decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor 2:2). Human wisdom puts self on display but the wisdom of God puts Jesus Christ on display. As Paul writes, “For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord” (2 Cor 4:5). 

In the book of Acts, Paul heals a lame man and the crowds cry out “The gods have come down to us in the likeness of men!” (Acts 14:11). Then starting with Paul they attempt to identify the gods who had come. Paul, the primary preacher they decided must be Hermes, the Greek god of oratory, and inventor of speech. I am pretty sure this description was not because he was a listless preacher who did care much about how he said what he said. 

When our manner of delivery conforms to the message of the biblical text, it becomes obvious that the text we are preaching has pierced our own heart. Our sermon delivery acts as a window to our preaching soul, which ultimately weights the power of our words. 

Above all else in delivery, allow your cruciform passion and genuine enthusiasm for what you believe show in order to make much of the cross.

Preaching is a God-given, Word-based, Christ-centered, Spirit-anointed, dynamic and living transaction between the preacher and the congregation. It serves as an eschatological act that points to the consummation of the Kingdom of Christ when every tribe, tongue, and nation will gather and hear the voice of the chief Shepherd (1 Pet 5:2-4, Rev 7:17, Rev 22:4). 

Until then, preach. Spend and be spent, for this highest of all tasks in a fallen world. Toil, strain, and sweat to say what is biblically true, and surrender every single molecule to say it as clearly, passionately, and powerfully as possible.

Editor’s Note: This originally published at Prince on Preaching.



Is Perfectionism Underneath Some of Your Anxiety?

By / Feb 10

Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him, we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. (Rom. 5:1–2) Has perfectionism become the enemy of your inner peace? The heart of a perfectionist is never fully at rest. There’s always something more for perfectionists to achieve or improve. Striving becomes their pattern of life. And that striving often breeds anxiety. The pursuit of excellence may be a perfectionist’s lifelong friend, basing the motivation for his or her diligent work ethic on performance.[1] Perfectionists may fear personal failure or the disappointment of others. They may be stuck in a works righteousness mindset and thus never feel fully accepted by God.

Regardless of what triggers our unrest, the remedy for it is the same. In Romans 5:1–2, the apostle repeats the words “we have” three times in order to remind us of what is already true for believers—what we already possess in Christ. These three assertions of what “we have” show us that we build our experiential peace (the peace of God) on the foundation of our relational peace (our peace with God).

First, we have been justified. To be justified means to be declared righteous by God. In the courtroom of heaven, the status of the repentant sinner who turns to Jesus is changed from “guilty” to “righteous.” In exchange for our sin, Jesus gives us his perfect righteousness (see 2 Cor. 5:21). This is all received “by faith”—it is not gained through the perfection of our works.

Second, we have peace with God. Having been declared righteous by God, we change from being enemies of God into being children of God. Peace with God is not something we work for but something we work from, since Jesus is already “our peace” (Eph. 2:14). Acceptance with God is not gained through our spiritual performance; it is based on Christ’s perfect righteousness—not ours. God “made us accepted in the Beloved” one—Christ (Eph. 1:6 NKJV).

Third, we have access to God. Our permission to enter God’s presence is also “by faith”—not by works. Through Christ, we have access “into this grace in which we [already] stand.” We enter the throne room of God based on his grace, not on our prior or current spiritual performance. This gift of grace is the righteousness of his sinless Son (see Rom. 5:17). We can enter the presence of God only because Jesus first offered himself as the once-for-all sacrifice (see Heb. 10:10, 19–20).

When we renew our minds with these truths, “we rejoice in hope of the glory of God” (Rom. 5:2). Thinking about what Jesus has already done for us breeds contentment, corrects our perfectionism, and retrains us to place greater confidence in the finished work of Christ than in our unfinished works. In short, truth feeds joy, which combats anxiety.

The next time anxiety strikes, don’t focus on what’s going wrong and on what you need to get done. Rather, fix your gaze on Christ and on his gift of righteousness to us. Because of the grace of Christ, there is no reason for us to be anxious.

[1] Both a striving for excellence and a diligent work ethic are good in their proper place. It’s the performance-driven motivation that’s an issue here.



The Missional Mindset of the Reformers

By / Feb 9

Ask anyone in the pews of our local churches, and, if they know about the Reformation, they won’t connect it with a robust interest in evangelism and missions. In fact, many will think the ideas of the Reformation are opposed to or at least conflict with the missions zeal. Then check our standard textbooks on missions history and popular writings on the subject, and you will see they have been taught to think this way. This inaccurate and uncharitable bias is sad because it blinds us to the powerful examples and resources which the Reformers provide for us in the work of world evangelization.

If you read the Reformers themselves and study their work, you find a robust program for re-evangelizing their native lands since the gospel was largely unknown by the vast majority of people in Europe. As Scott Hendrix, in his insightful book, states, “The Reformation’s own sources state plainly how reformers saw their enterprise as a missionary campaign to renew and replant Christianity in European culture.” Calvin’s preface to his Institutes of the Christian Religion declares that his writing was intended to aid his fellow countrymen in France “very many of whom I knew to be hungering and thirsting for Christ; but I saw very few who had been duly imbued with even a slight knowledge of him.” Luther also said that many of the people who attended the church services “do not believe and are not yet Christians.” Thus, he said, “the gospel must be publicly preached to move them to believe and become Christians.”

Both Luther and Calvin trained scores of pastors who came to them from across Europe and were sent back to preach the gospel at the risk of their lives. Under Calvin’s leadership, Geneva became “the hub of a vast missionary enterprise” and “a dynamic center or nucleus from which the vital missionary energy it generated radiated out into the world beyond.” The Register of the Company of Pastors in Geneva records numerous people sent out from Geneva during Calvin’s time to “evangelize foreign parts.”  The records are incomplete, and eventually, due to persecution, it became too dangerous to record the names of those sent out, although it numbered more than 100 in one year alone. Philip Hughes describes Geneva as “a dynamic centre of missionary concern and activity, an axis from which the light of the Good News radiated forth through the testimony of those who, after thorough preparation in this school, were sent forth in the service of Jesus Christ.” Zorn suggests that Calvin developed a “missionary theology for Europe.” Since today we face again a Western society that is sprinkled with Christian terms and ideas but largely unconverted, we would do well to examine the work of the Reformers for our mission efforts.

Many examples could be cited from various Reformers, but here let me simply point to Luther and Calvin, with examples from their preaching, praying and songs provided to their people.

Preaching

Luther is abundantly clear about the duty of believers to share the gospel with others. He says “one must always preach the gospel so that one may bring some more to become Christians.” Furthermore, “It would be insufferable for someone to associate with people and not reveal what is useful for the salvation of their souls.” Indeed, Luther says, “If the need were to arise, all of us should be ready to die in order to bring a soul to God.” Preaching on Matthew 23:15, Luther says, “The very best of all works is that the heathen have been led from idolatry to God.”

Preaching on Deuteronomy, Calvin said, “If we have any kindness in us, seeing that we see men go to destruction until God has got them under his obedience: ought we not to be moved with pity to draw the silly souls out of hell and to bring them into the way of salvation?” He tells pastors that God has made them ministers for the purpose of saving souls and thus they must labor “mightily, and with greater zeal and earnestness” for the salvation of souls. Even when people reject the salvation offered to them, Calvin tells pastors that they must continue to “devote” themselves to this evangelistic work and “take pains” in calling people to faith so that they might “call as many to God as they can.” Calvin urges, “we must take pains to draw all the world to salvation.”

Praying

Luther taught his people to pray for the conversion of unbelievers and for the gospel to be preached over the whole world. In his brief work written to teach his people how to pray he instructs them to meditate on each petition of the Lord’s Prayer turning that into specific prayers. Luther provides an example of how one might pray from each petition, and in the first three petitions he explicitly prays for the conversion of unbelievers.

This evangelistic concern can also be seen in Luther’s exposition of the Lord’s Prayer in his Large Catechism. Discussing the second petition, “Your kingdom come,” Luther explains that this teaches us, among other things, to pray that the kingdom “may gain recognition and followers among other people and advance with power throughout the world.” Later in the same question he says this petition teaches us to pray both that believers might grow in the kingdom and that “it may come to those who are not yet in it.”

In his sermons on 1 Timothy, Calvin regularly concludes with a prayer for the salvation of the nations. Calvin expounds Paul’s call to pray “for all men” (1 Tim 2) with application to the church’s missionary responsibility to the world: “call upon God and ask him to work toward the salvation of the whole world, and that we give ourselves to this work both night and day.” Throughout this sermon Calvin calls for fervent prayer and persistent action for the salvation of souls, urging his people to “have pity and compassion on the poor unbelievers.” He tells his people, “the greatest pleasure we can do to men is to pray to God for them, and call upon him for their salvation.” It is no surprise, then, that at various places in these sermons Calvin speaks of the salvation of our neighbors as being “dear to us.”

Singing

Furthermore, both Luther and Calvin understood the importance of corporate singing for worship and instruction. Here I will simply note two of Luther’s hymns which pulse with yearning for world mission. This one is based on Psalm 67:

Would that the Lord would grant us grace,

With blessings rich provide us,

And with clear shining let his face,

To life eternal light us;

That we his gracious work may know,

And what is his good pleasure,

And also to the heathen show,

Christ’s riches without measure

And unto God convert them.

Another hymn of Luther’s based on Mark 16:15-16 & Luke 24:46f, says,

Christ to all his followers says: Go forth

Give to all men acquaintance

That lost in sin lies the whole earth,

And must turn to repentance.

Who trusts and who is baptized, each one

Is thereby blest forever;

Is from that hour a new-born man,

And thenceforth dying never,

The kingdom shall inherit.

Conclusion

This brief survey has barely scratched the surface of all the Reformers said about missions and evangelism. Rather than slighting these brothers, we ought to esteem their powerful testimony borne in times much more difficult than ours. We ought to appreciate the heat of their evangelistic zeal and seek to light our candle from their flame. To that end I close with two quotes from Calvin’s sermons:

“It is not enough for us to teach other men faithfully, unless we have a zeal to edify and care for the salvation of all men.”

“We cannot bestow our lives and our deaths better than by bringing poor souls who were lost, and on their way to everlasting death, to salvation.”

Editor’s Note: This post originally appeared at the blog for Credo Magazine and is used with permission.



Self-Talk and Sanctification

By / Feb 9

We talk to ourselves. We counsel, advise, coach, and even command ourselves. Most of us are familiar with our internal monologue. It’s why we resonate with this quote by Martyn Lloyd-Jones,

“Have you realized that most of your unhappiness in life is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself? Take those thoughts that come to you the moment you wake up in the morning. … Who is talking to you? Your self is talking to you.”[1]

Perhaps you know your need to preach to yourself and not just listen to yourself, but are you aware of whose voice your inner voice imitates? Who do you sound like when you talk to you? I’m specifically referring to the tone of voice in your head. Does it sound like Jesus? Or does it sound more like a harsh drill sergeant, a hard-to-please father, or a hypercritical, disappointed mother?

Think of what the narrative in your head sounds like, especially when you fail.

  • Are you often condescending, demeaning, mocking, or sarcastic in tone? (“Nice job!” “Way to go, idiot!” “What is wrong with you?!”)
  • Do you often remind yourself that you’re failing at pretty much everything?
  • Do you ever castigate and condemn yourself?
  • Do you ever tell yourself you’re worthless and will never amount to anything?

Having believed Jesus’s gracious words for your justification, are you now seeking to be sanctified by bullying yourself into submission? Does your inner voice sound more like “the accuser of the brothers” (Rev. 12:10) or the gentle and lowly Lover of our souls (Matt. 11:28-30)?

Prosecuting or Defense Attorney

The name Satan literally means “accuser.” The devil is a prosecuting attorney bent on your condemnation. Jesus, however, is your defense attorney (1 Jn. 2:1). He is not your prosecuting attorney. Is your inner voice serving as a loudspeaker for Satan’s accusations or the Son’s gracious intercession (Rom. 8:34)?

We can be brutal with ourselves, can’t we? Even downright abusive. Where did we learn this? If you saw a counselor and he spoke to you like you sometimes speak to yourself, you might file a report. You’d certainly never go back!

Jesus never abuses his people. He is lovingly stubborn, relentless even, but he is never cruel. He is never annoyed or disgusted with us. He never rolls his eyes at us. He never lashes out at us. Of course, he had hard words for hardened, self-righteous hypocrites, but repentant sinners heard loving words of forgiveness, cleansing, and hope. Jesus is the suffering servant of whom it was written, “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench” (Isa. 42:3; Matt. 12:20). A thrice-denying apostle was restored without browbeating and I told you so’s.

Sensitivity to the Spirit

If the Son of God is an advocate for us in heaven, the Spirit of God is the helper-advocate in us on earth. So, what does he sound like? How does God speak to us, by the Spirit, in the privacy of our minds and hearts?

Not with the saccharine sentimentality of self-esteem slogans. Not with flattery or the “power” of positive thinking. He tells us the truth. But he does so with the love and tenderness that is the heart of God for his children. We quench and resist and grieve the Spirit when we submit to the devil’s brutality in our self-talk. Part of what it means to be sensitive to the Spirit is to listen to the words of God to us, wedded to the heart of God for us.

God hates our sin because he loves us! He is tough on sin because he is tender with sinners. Satan only hates us. He leads us into temptation and then capitalizes on our sin in order to condemn us. Satan is soft on sin in order to be hard on us.

Oh, how we need to learn to tell the difference!

  • The Spirit wants you to loathe your sin.
  • Satan wants you to loathe yourself.
  • The Spirit’s will is to redeem and renew you, convicting you to set you free.
  • Satan’s will is to enslave and destroy you, condemning you to hold you captive.
  • The Spirit says, “There’s something wrong with you. I’m here to help.”
  • Satan says, “What’s wrong with you?! You’re hopeless.”
  • The Spirit appeals to your identity in Christ to draw you back from wandering (“That’s not who you are. Repent and come home.”).
  • Satan questions your identity because of your wandering (“And you call yourself a Christian?!”).

Taking Pages from Satan’s Playbook

In your experience, when someone (a parent, spouse, boss, coach, or spiritual leader) belittles you and beats you down, is it the most effective way to help you change? Of course not. Then why do we talk to ourselves that way? Why do we try to build ourselves up by destructive means?

Why are we taking pages from Satan’s playbook to accomplish God’s goals? Our ears need to be tuned, by the Spirit, to the voice of Jesus (including his tone), so that our inner voice will echo his. We are to hate our sin, but we are not to speak hatefully to ourselves. We are to deny ourselves, but we are not to despise ourselves.

Resist and Rehearse

Satan doesn’t want you to change (unless he can co-opt your success to make you proud and self-righteous). When you fail, he stands over you wagging his finger to keep you down. He starts up the beat-you-down broken record, increasing the volume.

God does want you to change. He’ll expose and convict you of your sin, because you’re precious and beloved. And when you fail (again), he’ll happily help you rehearse the gospel (again). This is your heavenly Father, teaching you to talk.

Resist the devil and his voice will flee your mind. Rehearse the words of God, tuned in to his tone. Counsel yourself not only with his words, but also with his heart.

[1] Spiritual Depression: It’s Causes and Cure (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1965), 20-21.



How Do I Know If I Can Shepherd?

By / Feb 5

For some people, the word “shepherd” brings to mind watercolor paintings in church nurseries. The shepherd is cradling a lamb while the sun sets behind him in splashes of color. Or, he’s leaning on his staff looking out over a Crayola-green field. He’s got blue eyes and long wavy hair, his gaze is solemn, his robe spotless.

But when the apostle Peter used the word “shepherd”, his readers back then would picture a ruddy livestock worker. This guy is on the clock 24/7, scouting out pastures, corralling strays, dispensing first aid, fixing broken bones, making sure the sheep are safe and well fed. This dude works hard, gets dirty, and even knows how to go ninja with his staff.

When Peter tells to “shepherd the flock of God” (1 Peter 5:2), he has all this in mind. A shepherd of God’s people is responsible to care for them. He’s responsible to feed them the Word of God in his preaching, counseling, even everyday conversations. He’s responsible to protect the sheep from false teachers, from the poison of false doctrine, from the influence of the world. There’s a reason that “shepherd” is the most prominent metaphor in Scripture for a pastor’s role. “The fundamental responsibility of church leaders,” says Tim Witmer, “is to shepherd God’s flock.” Your success in ministry is always linked with their welfare.

But what exactly does it look like to shepherd God’s flock? It means several different things.

It means willing and eager oversight.

“Excercising oversight” (1 Peter 5:2) is actually only one Greek word: episkopeo. It literally means “to look upon”, and includes the idea of looking carefully or watching diligently. In his book Shepherds After My Own Heart, Timothy Laniak defines it as “a vigilant attention to threats that can disperse or destroy the flock.” The shepherd is a guardian with boots on the ground, ready to be used by the Chief Shepherd to guide and protect his flock.

It means love.

Practically speaking, shepherding means loving people. You can’t love ministry and be annoyed by people. The summons is a call to love sheep. “To love to preach,” Lloyd-Jones says, “is one thing; to love those to whom we preach is quite another.” A man summoned by God to lead his flock loves both. And both are essential to the task. The study and reflection required of a pastor isn’t meant to turn him into an academic hermit; instead his study must lead him to more effectively nurture the church. He must possess a basic capacity to communicate God’s heart and God’s love to God’s people.

It means connecting care to the Chief Shepherd.

The local church immerses shepherds in the stuff of life. Consider the mysteries of human experience – the childless couple who just had their third miscarriage, the new believer still entangled in a lifelong addiction, the hardworking provider who just lost a job, the dying sinner confronting the certainty of drama. In those despairing moments, who is appointed to guide God’s people through the inexplicable valleys to drink in the streams of God’s providence and goodness? Who will remind us that the Chief Shepherd is the Good Shepherd (John 10:11)? None other than the shepherds of the church. What a glorious display of God’s grace to create a special office for our care during times of trial and suffering. Far from the spotlights and media Christianity, caring shepherds labor in obscurity to tend people’s souls. They connect sheep to the Chief Shepherd.

Editor’s Note: This originally published at RevDaveHarvey.com



What 10 Years of Sidewalk Counseling Taught Me

By / Feb 4

I will never forget the first time I stepped onto the sidewalk. I was a 22-year-old seminary student with no experience in pro-life ministry. In fact, I had very little “ministry” experience at all! I certainly was not accustomed to waking up at 6 AM on a Saturday. Nevertheless, I committed to serve with a new ministry in our church called “Speak for the Unborn.” That cold and early morning marked the first of what would become 10 years of standing in front of an abortion clinic in Kentucky every week, offering hope and help to moms and families in crisis. Though many experiences were formative, four truths stand out from my time on the sidewalk:

1) Abortion is Wicked

Like far too many, the only time I really thought about the sanctity of life was during an election season. That all changed the moment I stepped onto the sidewalk. Every week I watched wave after wave of moms, dads, grandparents, and friends walk through the open doors of an abortion clinic. These were not statistics; these were people —a lot of them. These were people who had believed the lie of abortion. These mothers were promised freedom, but in return received only a heavy burden on their consciences. I listened as abortion clinic staff and volunteers comforted these women with words of “empathy” and casual levity. Yet this simply masked the reality soon to follow: the God-forged bond between a mother and her son, between a father and his daughter, between a grandparent and their grandchild would be severed forever. I saw that beneath all the flowery rhetoric, abortion is simply a gruesome attempt of de-creation. Ever since Cain in Genesis 4, sinful humanity has sought to hide the bodies of their fellow image-bearers in the shadows. An abortion clinic is one place where I saw just how dark those shadows can be. 

2) People’s Situations are Complex

When you stand on the sidewalk for a while, you quickly come to see that crisis pregnancy is rarely an isolated issue. In calling for a woman to choose life, whether we know it or not, there are numerous subtexts to our message. In some cases, we are calling mothers to risk forfeiting their social or financial stability. I have seen boyfriends and parents threaten to abandon their girlfriend/daughter on the spot if she refused to go through with the abortion. I have heard single moms weep over the prospect of losing their job and not being able to provide for their other children if they carried this pregnancy to term. Another subtext involves trauma. I have walked alongside enough young women who were pregnant because of sexual assault and abuse to know it is no easy decision to “choose life.” Further, I have seen the interrelation of motherhood and racial tension in countless ways. All of these complexities reaffirmed that real life is messy. As Christians rightly advocate for the lives of the unborn, we must also remember that a crisis pregnancy is rarely a disconnected or isolated issue. Failing to reckon with these complexities makes our pro-life message appear out of touch at best and cruel and callous at worse.  

3) Our Tone Matters

The complexity of people’s situations led to another realization: our tone matters. Though gospel hope is the universal message we all need, the way we apply it to individuals should not be uniform. Jesus, for instance, addressed Pharisees differently than he did the crowds more broadly (compare Matt 9:36 and 12:34). Different circumstances should evoke different responses (cf. 1 Thess 5:14; Jude 22–23). Though I have encountered “activists” pursuing abortion, they were an exception to the norm. The vast majority of women I met on the sidewalk were not there to make a political statement about bodily autonomy. Far more often these women were simply scared of the uncertain pathway that lay before them. One of the most helpful phrases I learned to use after introducing myself was, “I would love to hear what brings you down here this morning.” This statement was disarming to many. They may have been expecting a fiery sermon from the religious protester. But rather than giving a monologue, I first wanted to give them a listening ear. Proverbs 18:13 reminds us that “The one who gives an answer before he listens—this is foolishness and disgrace for him” (CSB). By listening, I had the opportunity to win their trust. By showing myself genuinely interested in caring for them, I was often able to learn how I could more effectively serve. Much of this was communicated in my tone. Indeed, “sweetness of speech increases persuasiveness” (Prov 16:21).

4) The Local Church is Essential for Pro-life Ministry

There are fewer places that have felt lonelier than sidewalk counseling at an abortion clinic. You pour out your heart, pleading with moms and dads not to take their lives of their children, only to face repeated rejection. For those who do want help, the thought of caring for someone in crisis can be overwhelming. In all this, I came to see the pivotal role of the local church both in terms of caring for its members as well as caring for those who choose life.

Without pastors and fellow church members keeping watch over my soul, I don’t think I would have made it very far. Moreover, without a body of believers ready to welcome a mom or family in need, I would have had little basis to make a genuine offer of sustainable support. But the gospel makes that kind of community. I could call for a woman to choose hope over abortion because I knew there was an army of Spirit-empowered saints who would rally on a moment’s notice. In this, I saw that the local church is not peripheral to the fight for the sanctity of human life. Rather, the local church should both embody and motivate a pro-life ethic that leads her people, in love, to meet those in darkness.



Episode 104: Gossip in the Church

By / Feb 3

For The Church Podcast

Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary

The tongue is indeed a fire. In this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the danger of church gossip.