Gospel-Centered Resources from Midwestern Seminary
On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson talks with writer Gretchen Ronnevik about grace-driven discipleship and how the spiritual disciplines don’t need to be legalistic burdens for those who are already spiritually worn out.
Why did you write this book? What inspired you to write it?
From my earliest days of processing my call to ministry, Charles Spurgeon’s Lectures to My Students proved not only insightful, but transformative. Spurgeon’s classic work spoke to me then and it still speaks to me today. Similarly, I’ve found myself over the years fielding countless questions from seminary students, local church pastors, and all those engaged in ministry service. Therefore, I took a similar approach to Spurgeon and sought to address real-world, practical questions about local-church ministry service in this series, and for this volume in particular, questions and issues related to pastoral ministry.
For whom did you write this book?
Though the book is entitled On Pastoring, anyone engaged in local-church service will benefit from reading it. Within this book, I engage a host of local church issues. These are issues that those in pastoral leadership, including elders and other staff members, will have to engage. But there are also topics that many involved lay persons will also encounter. Thus, all who are engaged in the work of the local church may well benefit from reading this book.
Talk a little bit about how you were influenced by Charles Spurgeon’s Lectures to My Students
Though I grew up in a conservative, Bible-believing Southern Baptist Church, the call to ministry was altogether mysterious to me. Thus, as I began to sense God’s call to ministry during my college years, I found myself confused about what that call would mean and how to know for sure if God had indeed set me apart for His service.
A ministry friend pointed me to 1 Timothy 3:1-7 and to Charles Spurgeon’s Lectures to My Students. Both were tremendously helpful to me at that point in my life. As to Lectures to My Students, in it Spurgeon famously reflects that the first sign of a call to ministry is “an intense, all-absorbing desire for the work.” Spurgeon’s words, coupled with those of the apostle Paul in 1 Timothy 3, were liberating for me. They brought added assurance that God indeed had set me apart for ministry, and that he had placed the desire for ministerial service within me.
What do you think the Bible sets forth as the essential calling of a pastor?
The essential calling of the pastor is to shepherd the flock of God. In fact, it is what the word “pastor” means. At the very heart of that calling is the task to feed the sheep the Word of God. Not to strain the Biblical metaphor, but the work of the pastor is to feed the sheep, lead the sheep, and protect the sheep. It is a glorious work God has called us to do, and all who have been set apart by God for this work must undertake it with intentionality and vigor.
Is there any important biblical element of being a pastor that is often overlooked in the twenty-first century?
Two issues come to mind. First, is the matter of preaching itself. Through technological innovations, we have many ways to supplement our Bible intake. But nothing should displace the simple preaching of the Word of God on the Lord’s Day, and the commitment of God’s people to so gather and receive it. No podcast, YouTube channel, or other means of media distribution can displace the in-person gathering of God’s people to receive the Word preached.
Secondarily, I’m also concerned that the life-on-life shepherding work is often overlooked in the local church. Due to social media, we often publicly exude closeness with one another without ever being close to one another. COVID has been a stark reminder that ministry is intended to be in person, engaging spiritual realities and needs, bearing one another’s burdens, and engaging in a healthy, wholesome, covenant community known as the local church.
How does this book continue the conversation you started in volume 1 of Letters to My Students?
Letters to My Students Volume 1: On Preaching dealt with the primary responsibility the pastor undertakes, preaching. For every local church minister, the preaching and teaching of the Word of God must be priority number one. Period.
Yet, so much more happens during the week outside of the pulpit. That’s where faithful pastors are called to stand in the gap for their people day in and day out. Indeed, the complexities of our times, the rapidly shifting culture that we inhabit, and the multifaceted challenges confronting local churches means that pastors better be well-equipped, deeply devoted, and joyously realistic about what is before them.
The needs of the local church–and those who comprise it–are great. Pastors must be up to that challenge. I hope this book will help them toward these noble ends.
How does this book prepare and equip seminary students and future pastors?
Letters to My Students: On Pastoring has a particular emphasis on those preparing for ministry or in the early years of service. It touches on matters of both doctrine and practice. Within this book, we’ll go from how to officiate a wedding to how to practice church discipline. We explore why meaningful church membership matters and how to ensure it. We talk about matters relating to personnel, life planning, outreach, and protecting and strengthening the family that God has given you. There are a lot of good books on pastoral ministry, but I think this book makes a unique contribution based upon the breadth of topics covered and the accessibility with which they are covered.
What do you hope readers will take away from this book?
I hope readers leave this book with a greater love for the local church, more romantic about the call to serve it, and better equipped for a lifetime of faithful ministry service.
We live in an ego-centric society, which has saturated our churches and our faith. We have been programmed to think about ourselves. Most patterns in our lives are somehow tied to serving “me and my needs,” “my family,” or “my country.” Think about how much of our giving is tied to that which benefits us? Would we tithe as much if it were not tax-deductible? Would we give more to a building program (from which our kids will benefit) or a poverty program in Indonesia (which benefits me in no way)?
Along this ego-centric thought, I often hear people say, “God wants good for me.” “Okay, sure, absolutely. I can agree.” Here’s the rub. What is “good?” That’s where I believe we differ. I don’t believe God’s perspective of “good” is the same as ours. God’s “good” does not necessitate health here on earth. God’s “good” does not necessitate a lack of birth defects, financial blessing, intelligence, godly spouse, etc. While we may be blessed to experience some of these things, God’s “goodness” does not necessitate it.
God’s “good” is not specific to the individual as much as it is tied to that which benefits the corporate body. God’s “good” is about conforming us to the image of Christ. That is our greatest good. Our greatest good is that which most glorifies God and promotes worship of his holy name among the nations. God’s greatest good for us is leveraging our lives for the purpose of redemption. Yes, that is right, leveraging our lives. We are the servants, he is the master. Sometimes “good” is nailing you to the cross for the good of others in God’s redemptive kingdom plan.
God’s “good” is not centered around me or you, it is centered around his kingdom work and the means by which we can be most useful in promoting the establishment of that kingdom. Certainly, 1 Peter 3:17 hints at that, “For it is better to suffer for doing good, if that should be God’s will, than for doing evil.” There are times that God’s will is for us to suffer for righteousness’ sake so that we can be used for the good of his glory and his kingdom. But what about that famous passage that is often quoted, Genesis 50:20, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today?” Within that context, we must remember that God did not hesitate to orphan Joseph, at least for a season, sell him into slavery, have him falsely accused, and have him imprisoned in order to help redeem God’s people.
In other words, God is focused on you, yes, but he does so within the grand scope of his redemptive plan for his people. It is about you, as you are a part of a greater body, and God’s securing of that body, even if that means bruising a toe to save the leg. Believer in Jesus, may God deliver us from our “me-centered” lives and help us see that he is orchestrating a tapestry of redemption, and it is our privileged to be used in any way he sees fit. If that means being faithful in a bad marriage as a witness to my spouse, my children, and the world, so be it. If that means risking it all to tell my family, friends, neighbors, and co-workers that Jesus loves them, so be it. If that means selling my home and moving to the mission field, so be it. If that means that I buy an Accord instead of a Lexis, or for most of us, I buy a used car instead of a new car, so that I can give the difference to those in need, so be it. If it means being a faithful witness while cancer ravishes my child’s body, so be it. If it means forgiving the drunk driver who killed my spouse in the car accident, so be it. If it means being faithful in the midst of great financial blessing as my stock portfolio goes through the roof, so be it.
In the end, my life is not my own. It belongs to the King. May we get our minds off of ourselves and our possessions and our families alone and surrender ourselves to God more fully. May we surrender our immediate comfort and happiness and pursue holiness saying, “God, use me as you see fit for your glory and the promotion of your kingdom among the nations.”
Every Christian knows they should pray for others (1 Tim. 2:1). Yet every Christian also knows how terribly trite it feels to ask God over and over again to help out your fellow church members with their health, safety, or money problems. So how do we pray without just repeating ourselves?
Fortunately, God answers this for us. As Christians, we should pray continuously (1 Thess. 5:17), taking each other’s anxiety to our caring God (1 Pet. 5:7). We should also pray with thanksgiving, bringing one another’s requests to God (Phil. 4:6). The Lord also invites us to pray expectantly for wisdom (James 1:5). We shouldn’t grow weary of faithfully praying these prayers. But we can aim for even more precision in our prayers for other church members.
What Not to Include
But before I get to specifics on what to pray for, let me be specific about how we don’t have to pray. Sometimes people make up standards for prayer that simply aren’t biblical. The Bible makes it clear that unnecessarily public, lengthy, wordy, and repetitive prayer is not necessarily godly prayer (Matt. 6:6–7). So as we pray for fellow members, don’t feel unnecessary guilt that your prayers aren’t long. Have clear requests and use few words, trusting that the Lord hears.
What to Include
Instead of heaping up empty phrases in their prayers, Jesus taught his disciples a pattern of prayer that we now call “The Lord’s Prayer” (Matt. 6:9–13). We can use this pattern to pray for one another.
1. Adore God’s name (v. 9).
Adoring the name of God and asking that God help others adore his name is a great place to start. We should pray that fellow church members would exalt God and delight in his glory.
2. Accept God’s will (v. 10).
Much of how we relate to God comes out in responsive humility (Ps. 131). Prayer is one way we express our eager surrender to God’s will. We should pray that fellow church members would learn to submit to God’s will and trust his providence.
3. Admit God’s daily provision (v. 11).
We need God to provide for our daily sustenance. He works through us and others to see to it that our needs are met through the power of his might and not our own self-reliance. We should pray that God would meet the needs of fellow church members and that they would seek him as the provider of our greatest needs (Matt. 4:4, 6:33).
4. Ask God’s forgiveness (v. 12).
We sin daily, whether through commission or omission. How blessed we are to walk in the mercy and grace of God in steadily realigning ourselves with the gospel in prayer. We have a constant opportunity in prayer to confess our sins to the Lord (1 John 1:9). We should pray that God would move others to confess their sins and find hope in the forgiveness of the gospel.
5. Affirm forgiveness toward others (v. 12).
We have the privilege of releasing people from relational strife by choosing to forgive them. What a blessing to receive mercy from God in our contriteness and then to offer the same mercy to others (Prov. 28:13, Eph. 4:32). We should pray that fellow members would exercise that same forgiveness toward those that have wronged them.
6. Avoid evil (v. 13).
We’re tempted by all kinds of sin (Jas. 1:13–15). There’s sin in our own hearts and minds. There’s sin imposed on us from the world at the invitation of others (1 John 2:15–17). We need God’s protection and a way out of evil, regardless of where it comes from (1 Cor. 10:12–13). We should pray that God would protect fellow members from indwelling sin, the world, and the devil.
Now that we’ve seen some ways we should pray for others, here are some practical suggestions:
I hope this article gives you a guide to praying more simply and more in line with the Bible’s blueprint.
Editor’s Note: This post originally appeared at the 9Marks blog and is used with permission.
The jeers from the crowd in the arena were overwhelming as Perpetua and her friends quickly took in the sights and smells from the Carthage arena.
This was it. Their moment.
A few weeks prior, new believers gathered for worship and fellowship. Perpetua, a 22-year-old, wealthy, married woman who had recently given birth, joined with her friends Saturninus, Secundulus, Revocatus, and Felicitas. Given the cultural moment, they were well aware they were under the watchful eye of the magistrate and asked the church to baptize them. A few days after boldly declaring their faith in Christ in the water, soldiers came and arrested the members of their small group and took them away to their death.
In one of the earliest testimonies written by a woman, Perpetua kept a journal of her time in prison. She records how her father came and pled with her to think of her son, her mother, and her family. Could she not simply renounce Christ for the sake of her family? Pointing to a simple water pitcher in her cell, she asked, “Can it be called by any other name than that which it is?”
He answered in the negative.
“So neither can I call myself anything other than that which I am, a Christian,” Perpetua replied. With this response, her father left her and Perpetua steeled herself for her impending judgement from the magistrates.
The day of sentencing came. Perpetua and her friends were marched along with other Christians to the public forum. The tribunal attracted a large crowd and, one by one, the Christians were asked to renounce Christ. None did. Person by person, they confessed Christ alone as their Lord and King.
As Perpetua moved toward the front of the line, she saw her father who began again to plead with her to renounce her new-found faith and offer the sacrifice to the prosperity of the Emperor. As Perpetua stood before the tribunal, she confidently declared, “I am a Christian!”
With her public confession joining the chorus of other believers being judged that day, the governor sentenced them to death in the arena—to be put to death by beasts at games in celebration of the Emperor’s birthday. Perpetua records that they all “went cheerfully back into the dungeon” to await the fateful day.
Perpetua records moments of intense prayer both alone and along with the other believers as they waited. They fellowshipped and encouraged each other in their faith. In answer to their prayers, Felicitas gave birth to the child she was carrying when they were arrested. They found favor with the soldiers who managed the prison and many of them came to faith in Christ.
Perpetua’s journal finishes with an amazing dream where she fights and defeats a great warrior in the very arena where she was scheduled to die the following day. As she awoke from her dream, an overwhelming sense of peace flooded her. “I understood that I should fight, not with beasts but against the devil,” she stated. But her final words betrayed her full confidence in Christ.
“I knew that mine was the victory,” she wrote.
The next morning, as an editor picks up the story, Perpetua and her friends were escorted into the arena in Carthage. As they entered, they strode with confidence—like gladiatorial champions onto the competition floor. Perpetua sang, conveying the joy she felt as part of the chosen Bride of Christ. As she and her comrades stood once again before the tribunal, they confessed Christ together and prophetically spoke to the governor how the Lord would judge him. Soldiers were summoned and the believers were whipped for their insolence in addressing the governor.
After their scourging, animals were released into the arena to the delight of the spectators. Perpetua and Felicitas were knocked down by an enraged bull, but both encouraged each other and stood back up. According to the narrative, Perpetua fixed her hair and her torn clothing before the next assault, demonstrating her composure even in the midst of the chaos of the arena.
Eventually, as the beasts wore out, the surviving believers were brought to the middle of the arena near the bodies of their friends. They gave each other the traditional kiss of peace, the greeting they would have used at church, and the soldiers ran them through. Perpetua, pierced between the ribs, cried out in a loud gasp. The young soldier who ran her through looked frightened as he retracted his sword, but Perpetua, looking him straight in the eyes, guided his shaking sword to her throat and he completed her martyrdom.
The account of the Martyrdom of Perpetua is an incredibly special narrative that records the boldness of a woman of faith—something the culture could not comprehend. The fact that the claims of Christ superseded everything—wealth, social status, and even family—provided a testimony to the truth of Christianity that reverberated well beyond the provincial confines of North Africa. As spectacular as the death of Perpetua in AD 203 was, it was simply yet one more voice in a growing choir of men and women of all ages choosing Christ above all.
Stories like that of Perpetua and her friends may seem distant and remote, but we can find encouragement even for our own day within the lives of those who journeyed before us. As I walk through this narrative with my students, we tend to find some threads that are key for believers of any era:
Discipleship and small groups have always mattered. Perpetua’s arrest came on the heels of her meeting with a small group as part of her catechumenate training. This discipleship structure took place to help new believers deepen in their faith before becoming members of the local church. Their church still functions in the background of the narrative as deacons come and visit, secure better care for them in prison, and help ensure Perpetua’s child has every need met. But it is together, this small band of believers encouraged each other in the faith prior to imprisonment, during imprisonment, standing before the tribunal, and even on the battlefield of the arena.
Christians bend the knee to no one except Christ. Perpetua’s father pled multiple times with her to simply cave momentarily to the demands of the authorities. For her father, if Perpetua would perform the meaningless cultural ritual, she could be free. She could even choose Christ again once she was out of prison. In the narrative, Perpetua’s father never understood her devotion to Christ nor her commitment to follow Him above all others.
Finally, personal identity is abandoned to Christ. In The Acts of Perpetua and Felicitas, the claim by Perpetua to her father, “I am a Christian,” echoes the broader Acta Martyrum. In these accounts, Christians, when asked for their identity, refused to give their name as anything other than “Christian.” They understood their personal identity was defined by nothing else save for Christ. How fitting in our day when culture presses us to define ourselves by multiple labels. In the narrative, we are told of the social status of Perpetua (wealthy) and Felicitas (slave), but neither of these define them. Rather, in Christ, they transcend the cultural markers laying claim to their one Lord. For the early church, there was only one identity—Christ.
As men and women who follow Christ, our hope in the 21st century is no different from those in the first or third century. May we stand faithfully in Christ alone.
Editor’s Note: This article appeared in the Spring ’21 edition of Midwestern Magazine. The full issue, entitled They Still Speak: Wisdom Today from the Voices of Yesterday, is available free online at mbts.edu/magazine.
In the age of Love Wins, we’ve relocated hell solely to earth and convinced ourselves there’s nothing worse than losing one’s body (Matthew 10:28). Hell, we reason, just doesn’t sound like a good God. Especially when we’ve redefined goodness.
Some preachers won’t preach hell — not because they don’t believe in it, but because they find it impolite and untoward. It is the disagreeable part about God, the part to obscure. And in obscuring the bad news it is no wonder so many churches in the West have forgotten the good. It makes less sense. Man’s chief problem, they assume, is lack of success, scarcity of happiness; therefore, our message ought to be 7 Steps to a Victorious Whatever. And thus we offer shiny new laws that only increase the trespass (Romans 5:20).
But Jesus was not skittish about preaching hell. He knew the stakes couldn’t be higher. “Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you,” he tells the healed paralytic (John 5:14). Because he knows there are worse things than being paralyzed. He knows there are worse things than dying.
The Sheep and The Goats
Let’s look at one of Jesus’ direct references to the afterlife. Following the barrage of high-stakes parables concluding the Olivet Discourse (Matthew 24), this word about the eternal destinies of the righteous and the unrighteous contains elements of a parable (separating people like sheep and goats (Matthew 25:32-33)) but is largely a circling back around to answer the disciples’ question about the end of the age (Matthew 24:3). Why be alert and diligent, so as to be found faithful? Because the stakes couldn’t be more high.
Then he [the Son of Man] will say to those on his left, “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.” Then they also will answer, saying, “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?” Then he will answer them, saying, “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.” And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” (Matthew 25:41-46)
This passage does not, as some suppose, teach a works righteousness. We need only hold it up with the similar teaching in which Jesus sent the doers of good works (in his name!) to the same eternal punishment as these non-doers of works (Matthew 7:21-23). J.C. Ryle explains:
The last judgment will be a judgment according to evidence. The works of men are the witnesses which will be brought forward, and above all their works of charity. The question to be ascertained will not merely be what we said, but what we did–not merely what we professed, but what we practiced. Our works unquestionably will not justify us. We are justified by faith without the deeds of the law. But the truth of our faith will be tested by our lives. Faith which has not works is dead, being alone. (James 2:20.)[1]
What the “sheep” are receiving at the end of their faithful lives is the inheritance prepared for them at the foundation of the world (Matthew 25:34), before they’d done anything good or bad. Their lives of goodness, of tending to Christ, as it were, are the evidences of their having tended to Christ’s church—“the least of these my brothers” (Matthew 25:40). This is not to say, of course, that the mission of the church does not include such care for those outside the church; as I argued in the previous chapter, it does. It is only to say that the sheep receiving the inheritance are those who have been “blessed by the Father” (v.34), have been promised the blessing before time (v.34), and have made the care of Christ through the care of his people a chief concern of their lives (v.40).
Like the parable of Lazarus and the rich man, this teaching then shows us the direness of the death after death.
“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels’” (Matthew 25:41).
Jesus is not talking about a fiery garbage dump outside Jerusalem. It has been common to think so, that Jesus could not mean to send people into a fiery hell for eternity, that instead the quote-unquote “historical context” shows us that he is just metaphorizing annihilationism with yet another allusion to Gehenna (explicit in Matthew 5:22, 29-30, 10:28, 18:9, 23:15; Mark 9:43), the Valley of Hinnom outside the city where trash was continually burning. But this claim is, if you’ll forgive the term, rubbish. There is virtually no evidence from the time in question to support such a claim, and what has become a sort of biblical urban legend today—similar to the old chestnut, since debunked, about the “eye of the needle” being a gate into the city through which camels must walk through on their knees—actually originates well into the thirteenth century. George R. Beasley-Murray is one of many scholars addressing the claim:
The notion, still referred to by some commentators, that the city’s rubbish was burned in this valley, has no further basis than a statement by the Jewish scholar Kimchi made about A.D. 1200; it is not attested in any ancient source.[2]
Further, we should find it suspect that the deniers of hell along these lines do not similarly metaphorize Jesus’ words about heaven. The place of punishment? An exaggeration; doesn’t exist. The idea of heaven? Realer than can be. Eternal punishment is a myth while eternal life is a reality. This is an obvious case of double-mindedness.
No, when Jesus speaks of eternal punishment he means just that. He means that hell is real. Of course, our perceptions of it may be inaccurate, but our belief in it is well-grounded in the Scriptures. It is a place prepared for the devil and his angels, so it cannot simply refer to the graves of the mortal. Likewise, as Jesus is highlighting two destinations in this passage, not one, we know he can neither be referring to the grave of death nor teaching universalism.
The language Jesus uses to describe hell may be symbolic, of course, but the thing about symbols is that they have referents. They correspond to things, and biblical symbols often pale in comparison to the realities for which they are the shadows. In other words, when Jesus says there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth in the place of eternal punishment it is not likely he means that it will be not so bad as all that, but actually that it will be much worse.
Similarly, to even use the phrase “eternal” in relation to this punishment, to this place of fiery condemnation is to tell us that it is exactly that—eternal. Hell is forever. The destruction is eternal (1 Thessalonians 1:9). The fire is eternal (Jude 7). The “gloom of darkness” is “reserved forever” (Jude 13). Jesus refers to the fires of hell as being “unquenchable” (Matthew 3:12, Mark 9:43). And in case we are led to believe that the eternal destruction refers to an irreversible annihilationism, Revelation 14:11 tells us that “the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever.”
Simply (and bluntly) put, hell is real and eternal because God’s holiness is real and eternal. The unrepentant workers of iniquity will serve to showcase his justice for all eternity. This should make us uncomfortable. It should make us uncomfortable enough to make our calling and election sure.
Because the frightening thing is that to enter hell all one has to do is nothing.
“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 25:45). All you have to do to go to hell is not rock the boat. Accept the status quo. Hell is quite easy to enter. Because outside of Christ we stand condemned already (John 3:18), we need simply do nothing. As Jonathan Edwards said, there is nothing between the reprobate and hell but air. The only thing preventing the breathing unbeliever’s entrance into hell at this very moment is the patience of God.
“The gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many” (Matthew 7:13).
You few, you happy few, enter by the narrow gate.
Lazarus and the Rich Man
Let’s now turn to Jesus’ parable about this place called hell. It is one of his more detailed stories, enhanced by the inclusion of proper names (Lazarus, Abraham), the only time Jesus does this in a recorded parable. Some have surmised this is because it is not a parable at all, but a real incident. It is more likely that the inclusion of a proper name is to heighten the reality of what is being described, however—to emphasize that real people with real lives go to heaven and hell—although perhaps there is some significance to the fact that Jesus names the rewarded while the condemned man goes nameless.
There was a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores. The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried, and in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he called out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the end of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in anguish in this flame.” But Abraham said, “Child, remember that you in your lifetime received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner bad things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in anguish. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, in order that those who would pass from here to you may not be able, and none may cross from there to us.” And he said, “Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—so that he may warn them, lest they also come into this place of torment.” But Abraham said, “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.” And he said, “No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” He said to him, “If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.” (Luke 16:19-31)
In connection with the rest of the Bible’s teaching about eternal condemnation, including the teaching on the sheep and the goats, we see again here that 1) hell is real, 2) hell is eternal, and 3) hell is very easy to get to.
Some will say, “Oh, it’s just a parable.” Okay, but a parable about what? Like symbols, parables have referents. They correspond to things—things that are bigger and more real than their examples. What Jesus refers to as “torment” and “anguish” cannot mean an unconscious void. More obviously, nor can it mean “everybody goes to heaven.” Nor can it refer to “hell on earth,” since the rich man is clearly in a post-mortem place, unreachable by heaven.
Similarly, Jesus draws on the traditional Jewish designations for the afterlife: Abraham’s bosom and Hades (or the grave of the wicked). He is not essentially making a practical point about being nice to each other but a theological point that confirms and clarifies earlier divine revelation.
The chasm is fixed. It is irrevocable. The anguish will be forever, and from it there will be no relief. Whatever may be gathered from the narrative as speculative, this point certainly is not hazy. Jesus is teaching through the figure of Abraham, receiver of the everlasting covenant, that God’s promise of condemnation is everlasting.
We see here again how frighteningly easy it is to go to hell. Like the rich man, simply mind your own business. The very short description of his life reveals the depths of his excess. He “feasted sumptuously every day.” This rich man loved himself a lot. This is very, very easy for anyone to do, so it is very, very easy to be self-involved all the way into self-destruction.
It is quite easy to go to hell. You don’t even have to believe what you see! Abraham tells the man that witnessing a miracle—someone going to the living from the dead, presumably Lazarus—will achieve nothing for those who do not believe in the Law and the Prophets. Basically, seeing with the eyes of the body will not result in belief until seeing with the eyes of the soul does. Abraham is saying about the rich man’s relatives, “If they won’t believe the word of God about the messiah, miracles won’t do them any good.”
Do you remember Jesus’ response to skeptical Thomas?
Now Thomas, one of the Twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”
Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:24-29)
Jesus condescended in mercy to let Thomas see, but he is emphatic: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
So, believe! Believe hell is real. But believe over and above that truth the One who is Truth and also the Way and the Life. Jesus’ loving embrace of our torment in the condemnation of the cross is the only way to escape the torment of eternal damnation. For all who believe in him receive his rights, his blessings, his inheritance. All who believe in him receive eternal life.
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[1] J.C. Ryle, The Gospel of Matthew (1856), http://www.gracegems.org/Ryle/Matthew.htm
[2] G.R. Beasley-Murray, Jesus and the Kingdom of God (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1986), 376-377.
The Power of Reviling and the Response of the Gospel
“Just like the power of physical punishment and death is broken when Christ promises us a new body, the power of reviling is broken when Christ promises us a new name.”
He Has Not Failed Me Yet: Lessons From Long Suffering
Vaneetha Rendall Risner asks four questions to see whether or not the Lord fails us in our suffering.
Are Christian Parents Too Protective of Their Children?
Christain parents have good motivations for protecting and caring for their children. Michael Kruger helps parents think through if their help is actually hurting.
“We must be preachers before we are political pundits, bloggers, tweeters, book reviewers, controversialist, or social commentators.” – Kevin DeYoung
It is common for us to fill every nook and cranny of our lives with things we need to do or goals we want to accomplish. This post encourages us to pause.
What the Bible Teaches About Rejection and Embrace
“There must come a time where we must cast off our longings for the world’s acceptance and realize that the only place of true embrace is in Christ alone.”
Summer is a much-needed time of rest and relaxation for many people. This break from the various responsibilities of home, work, or school is a good thing. However, there is no such thing as a vacation, leave-of-absence, or sabbatical from your responsibilities as a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Jesus told his disciples, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest awhile” (Mark 6:31). This call also applies to present-day disciples. Even though your life in Christ is supernatural; it’s not superhuman. If you do not ever come apart, you’ll fall apart. All of us need times of rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation. But remember that Christ’s call to his disciples to come away was a call to go with him to rest, not to go without him. So vacate… with Christ.
Here are several practical ways you can vacation to the glory of God.
Hebrews 10:24-25 says, “And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.”
I urge you to make every effort to find a Christ-centered, Bible-believing church with which to worship God on the Lord’s Day, wherever you are. Even as you have made plans for food, lodging, entertainment, and all the other things that may be important to you, make plans for corporate worship. You found a hotel to stay in. Find a church to go to. Be marked present on the Lord’s Day. David sang, “I was glad when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord!’” (Psalm 122:1) May that be your testimony!
If you work hard, save wisely, and plan prayerfully, you have every right to enjoy your time of vacation. Solomon wisely advised his children: “Honor the Lord with your wealth and with the first fruits of all your produce” (Proverbs 3:9-10). Your vacation should not become an excuse to dishonor God with your finances. So avoid putting yourself in debt for the sake of a few days of recreation. Enjoy yourself, but stay within your means.
Continue to financially support the ongoing work of the church. Remember that the ministry of the church goes on while you are on vacation. So don’t rob God. And do not rob yourself by wasting your resources and missing your opportunity to make spiritual investments. Paul instructions, “The point is this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each one must give as he has made up his mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver” (2 Corinthians 9:6-7).
Your vacation time is a great time to get some rest, enjoy your favorite hobbies, catch up on personal reading, try some new adventure, or just hang out with family and friends. All of these things have their place. But let me ask you something. How often have you said that you would pray more or read the word of God more if you just had the time? How often have you thought, felt, or said that you would do something for the Lord if you just had the time?
Well, your vacation is an opportunity to serve the Lord. No, you don’t have to spend all your time doing ministry. But are you willing to spend any of your time doing ministry? Paul says, “Look carefully then how you walk not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is” (Ephesians 5:15-17)
That’s an order! Have a good time on your vacation. Enjoy the Lord’s goodness to you. Don’t feel guilty about it. And don’t let other people lay a guilt trip on you. God is not against your enjoyment of personal pleasure. God “richly provides us with everything to enjoy” (1 Timothy 6:17). God is the source of every good and perfect gift (James 1:17). God is the one that gives life and breath and all things (Acts 17:25).
Friend, God is no cosmic killjoy, set on stopping everyone from having a good time. The Lord is not against pleasure. He is only against those who are lovers of pleasure and not lovers of God (2 Timothy 3:4). So enjoy the blessings of the Lord, the graces of life, the fruit of your labor, the opportunity to travel, and the company of family and friends. But make sure you keep pleasure in its place.
Paul exhorts, “So, then, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). That includes your vacation!
Editor’s Note: This originally published at HBCharlesJr.com
In elementary terms, how does the doctrine of simplicity relate to the doctrine of the sacred Trinity? The answer is, simplicity is provisional, among other things, for gaining insight into God himself as Trinity, Father, Son, Spirit. Simplicity is part of the prolegomena for trinitarian teaching, because simplicity is in the cement of any monotheism and so inherent to the stability of anything built upon the basic judgement which affirms merely that God is and nothing more (quia est et nihil amplius, Thomas Aquinas says). God is, and God is Trinity: inasmuch as simplicity is invoked in saying the first, so much is it involved in saying the second
We must not say too much or too little on this point. We must be very precise. To say too much, takes theology as a servant of the church, inverts it, and makes it a crushing load too heavy to bear (Luke 11:46). To say too little, takes theology as a help for knowing and loving God more, divests it of this capacity, and makes it worthless for bringing people closer to God. Let us first remind ourselves of the basics of the doctrine of simplicity, before turning to consider how it is ancillary for confessing God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
What the doctrine of the Trinity is, is roughly known; but what is the doctrine of simplicity? In theology proper, simplicity is a negative name we utter of God. The doctrine of simplicity in no way posits or affirms something of God. Confessing simplicity is nothing else but negating or denying composition of God. “Simplicity,” throughout theology proper, means nothing else but the judgment, God is not composite.
Broadly, the name “simplicity” signifies any judgment removing from God a real composition; more specifically, it signifies the final intellectual judgment that has removed from God the fundamental composition among creatures, that of “esse and essentia,” “being and essence.” This judgment is final, because when it is made, ipso facto all other ways of composition have already been removed in the same stroke. The expression of this judgment and thus the final dogmatic statement pronounced by the catholic church on the doctrine of simplicity was provided first in 1215 at Lateran IV, at least in any official way; the first theologian to expound this statement with significant profundity was Thomas Aquinas, who was born closely thereafter (1224/25).
Picking up the phrase given at Lateran IV, he says, “Deus omnino simplex est”: God is not composed in any way; or, in another place, pushing this even further, he says, It is not possible that God be composed in any way. Either of these can be and is reformulated and declared as the doctrine of simplicity, where we confess God is in every way simple. This reformulation is a means of shorthand. I point out again, this is not an affirmation; it is, as we call it in theology, periphrastic only for a negative judgment. It is of utmost importance to not mistake on this point, and it is no exaggeration to claim that many theologians have done so for hundreds of years and with devastating results. The doctrine of simplicity in no way maintains or pronounces something of God positively; the doctrine of simplicity only and solely removes something from our conception of him, namely, composition.
Let us unpack this.
Outside theology, there are many things that are and are said to be “simple,” for we look around the world and many times make a negation of some composition for various reasons; the use of this in theology is firstly determined by how we do this with us and among creatures. We say in the everyday, a problem is simple, denying it has many elements to untangle. We say in another locus of theology, angels are simple, denying bodily composition. We say in philosophy, forms are simple, and matter is simple. And there are many other things that are simple, just as God is simple, albeit God is not simple in one way only, but simple in every way (omnino simplex): God is not composite, with any type of composition.
There is one other critical point of difference to bear in mind when we confess God’s simplicity. This is to do with the fact that, to put it very roughly, some things are simple, because they are empty; other things are simple, because they are full. That is to say, we are brought to deny composition of some, because they are lacking in some mode, and we are brought to deny composition of some, because they are abounding in some mode. The way of putting this metaphysically, is some are simple with a foundation in the order of potency; others are simple with a foundation in the order of act.
The simplicity of matter and that of form are examples: matter and form are opposed, and we are brought to deny composition of each for opposed reasons: one is empty, just as potency; the other is full, just as act. Note that in both cases, an affirmation grounds our immediate negative judgment of simplicity, and that affirmation posits something in the thing. This something, placed in the thing with an affirmative judgment, is called the “foundation” in the thing for our negation of composition, which makes our negation be true. For this reason, there are two possible reasons in a thing to consider when we are dealing with simplicity, and each of these foundations is diametrically opposed. There are thus two opposite kinds of simplicity, generated by whether the reason or foundation in the thing is through the mode of potency or through the mode of act.
Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared at the blog for Credo Magazine and is used with permission. The full article can be found in Vol. 11 Issue 1 of Credo Magazine.
