Gospel-Centered Resources from Midwestern Seminary
It’s a new installment of the FTC Film Club, and we have found a film the boys are especially fired up to discuss. After a bit of banter about the new Steven Spielberg film Disclosure Day, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz launch into a spirited discussion of the 2012 film adaptation of the musical Les Miserables. And Jared offers a theory on Russell Crowe’s singing voice that he hopes will make you reconsider any criticism you have of this incredible movie.
Have you ever seen a mother or even a father cry on their child’s wedding day? Some parents feel downcast when their son or daughter moves out of their home for the first time to go and attend college. Some spouses are saddened when their partner leaves for a work trip lasting several weeks or months. Moments like these reveal how deeply connected we become to those we love—and that’s how God designed it from the very beginning.
Genesis 2:18–23 narrates how God brought all the animals He had made to Adam in pairs so that he would give them names. Yet Adam himself had no partner, which prompted God to say, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him” (v 18). It was part of God’s original plan to create Eve, but He wanted Adam to feel a strong need for her first so that when He eventually presented Eve to him—as a father hands over his daughter to her groom on the wedding day—Adam would cherish her.
From the beginning, there has always been a longing for companionship and association in each of us. Even our Lord Jesus Christ surrounded Himself with disciples and close companions during His earthly ministry.
The stronger the bond with someone, the heavier the pain when they pass away. A man who hates his wife is not likely to miss her when she dies, whereas a man who loves his wife will be shattered by her death. Even though we may know that a loved one is going to heaven when they die, we will still be heartbroken when they’re gone because we will no longer be able to enjoy their companionship here on earth.
To demonstrate that aspect of His own humanity, Christ wept over the death of Lazarus and the anguish it brought to his family (John 11:35). That is why the Scripture enjoins us to “mourn with those who mourn” (Rom. 12:15). Doing so does not imply a lack of faith, but it reflects our capacity for empathy.
Nevertheless, the Bible urges us to “not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13). While it is natural to express sorrow over the loss of a loved one, there remains hope for us even in loss. For those who are in Christ, we can encourage ourselves and rejoice in our spirit, knowing that they’re now with the Lord and blessed with eternal tranquility in heaven. For those who die apart from Christ, our grief is marked by sorrow and sobriety, yet even then we are not without hope in God’s justice and mercy, nor without comfort in His sovereign goodness. Certainly, no amount of peace, comfort, pleasure, or luxury on earth can compare with what awaits those in Christ!
Our Lord Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Losing people very dear to us is part of that trouble. Our grief will be deep and our pain will be devastating, but in the midst of it all, Christ wants us to know that He shares in our grief and pain (Heb. 4:15; 5:7).
In John 16:33, Jesus unequivocally acknowledges the distressing circumstances that will sometimes confront us in life, but His intention is not for us to fixate on them. Rather, He wants us to focus our attention on the fact that He has overcome for us. The troubles of life may throw us into emotional turmoil, but Jesus has gained victory for us.
As a result of the victory He won on the cross, grief cannot incapacitate us. We can receive grace from the Father—through faith in Christ Jesus—to move on triumphantly, so that, like Prophet Habakkuk, we can say in our time of sorrow,
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights. (Hab. 3:17–19)
The Bible assures us that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Ps. 34:18). A grieving heart takes time to heal, but God will not allow us to be consumed by our sorrow. In our times of anguish, if we hold fast to Him, the Lord will always give us cause to testify, “You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy” (Ps. 30:11).
Ftc.co asks Clint Pressley, ‘Who has influenced your preaching the most?’.
Howard Hendricks challenged educators when he wrote, “The best learners are participators; they’re not merely watching the action from the outside, but are deeply engrossed in it, involved to the hilt.”[1]
When it came time for our church plant to determine what our women’s Bible studies would look like, Hendricks’s idea became our guiding aim. Not because one-to-one reading, workbook studies, or lectures lack value, but because we felt a particular burden for this formal class to help our women believe they could study their Bibles well at home rather than depending on a more formal teaching environment.
If we were studying Genesis, we wanted women not only to understand Genesis more deeply, but also to learn how to study Genesis (and historical narrative more broadly). To do this well, our women couldn’t simply sit and take notes on a lecture or answer predetermined questions. They needed to be actively engaged in the process of Bible study, practicing inductive tools as they saw them used in real time.
In other words, our formal Bible studies would be a space for active learning, and we have seen it transform our women.
The author of Hebrews writes, “Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil” (Heb. 5:13–14).
Discernment is not merely acquired by knowing what to believe, but by understanding why and how. Why is something good or evil, and can I explain how I arrived at that conclusion? When applied to our Bible study, this means participants should not only leave knowing something new about the passage, but also how to defend their interpretation from the text.
This requires a space of active learning—where participants practice using the tools they have been given, and learn not to “look for what the teacher wants,” but to look to Scripture itself to understand what it says.
A helpful way to encourage active learning is through visual reinforcement of instruction. When verbal teaching is paired with visual structure, our capacity to remember increases significantly.[2] We have an ongoing joke in our Bible study that “there is power in the whiteboard.” The whiteboard rolls out, and the teacher asks specific questions that help the class move through the passage, synthesizing the discussion into cohesive, interpretive conclusions and filling the board with a visual map of what the passage says, means, and how it points to Christ.
The teacher may facilitate, but the board is filled with the active work of the women present.
1 Peter 2:2 has a similar sentiment as the author of Hebrews, “Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation.” We are all commanded to grow in our knowledge and understanding of God through His Word—and we are never to stop this pursuit. We are always growing, feasting on the solid food God graciously provides.
Going from milk to solid food requires what Hendricks further argues in his book: learning to think, learn, and work.[3] If the goal of our Bible study is to produce women confident in handling their Bibles, then we can’t just tell them what the text says and what it means, nor can we leave them alone in the process of discovery. We must partner with them—giving tools, helping them get familiar with those tools, then practicing the tools together.
These “tools” are the basics of inductive study: observation, interpretation, and application. What I have found over the years is that telling a woman the various ways to merely observe a passage has its limits. However, showing how to implement these tools is more effective. An active learning space provides the opportunity to identify appropriate study tools for a text, practice them together, and see why they matter for understanding Scripture. We’ve seen this approach send many women home more confident in studying on their own.
Toward the end of his book, Hendricks concludes, “the process of teaching is that of one total personality transformed by the supernatural grace of God, reaching out to transform other personalities by the same grace.”[4] Reading that sentence, I immediately think about the Great Commission: “go therefore, make disciples of all nations” (Matt. 28:18–19).
Our hope for our active Bible study is to see women confident and equipped to “go”—to teach other women what is good and profitable (2 Tim. 3:16–17; Titus 2:3–4), and to be able to argue the ways of God with grace and truth (Acts 18:28). We want women to grow beyond dependence on a teacher or the temptation to idolize them, maturing instead into spiritual mothers in the faith.
At the end of our class time, we almost always say, “Ladies, you did this. You discovered truth and beauty; you got us to the gospel.” Not only do they see that they can study Scripture and do so well, but that they are needed. Not because they themselves have the power to transform, but because as daughters of God they are called to carry the gospel forward—and it’s a joy to see our active Bible study play even a small role in that journey.
[1] Howard G. Hendricks, Teaching to Change Lives (Portland: Multnomah, 1987), 57.
[2] Ghulam Shabiralyani et al., “Impact of Visual Aids in Enhancing the Learning Process: Case Research (District Dera Ghazi Khan),” Journal of Education and Practice 6.19 (2015): 226–34.
[3] Hendricks, Teaching to Change Lives, 43–46.
[4] Ibid., 85.
Having trouble making sense of the Bible? Don’t know how or where to start? Bible study can sometimes feel overwhelming, but Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz are here to help. On this episode, they share a little bit about their personal disciplines in Scripture reading before offering some practical steps to read the Bible in a way that’s more spiritually fruitful.
Brokenness in this world is apparent. While it grieves my heart to see the effects of sin, I can look at the corruption and distortion in culture with an understanding of what caused it and can look forward in hopeful expectation to the restoration of all creation.
My struggle comes when I think on the church. Why is there brokenness in her midst? Why does God not protect her more? As a pastor, is she worth giving my life to? As a lay member, is she worth the sacrifices required to be an active participant? It is a bold question, but it is also one that deserves to be wrestled with: Is she—the church—worth it?
Scripture is clear that the church is the body of Christ, the bride of Christ, and a picture of heaven here on earth. She is the sum of all who believe and are indwelt by the Holy Spirit. To be such, she is necessarily distinct from any other gathering or organization in this world.
Sadly, when we look around or experience her in practice, we often see something that falls short of this heavenly picture. We see exclusive groups that fail to include the least of these. We see leaders who abuse the office of pastor and those under their care. We see organizations that care more about public image than holiness. We see carefully worded mission and vision statements that reveal hearts that value seats over souls.
The body of Christ, the bride of Christ, the picture of heaven here on earth is broken. But what we find in Scripture is that she is beautifully broken. She is beautifully broken because, like creation, she is also being redeemed (Eph. 5:25–27).
The entirety of Scripture tells the story of God redeeming His people. From Adam and Eve in Genesis 3 to the covenant promises given to Abraham, to Moses leading the people in the wilderness, to Joshua leading them into the promised land, to a nation under the Davidic kingship, and finally to the New Testament church—God’s people have always been a broken people living in a broken world. But they have also always been a people being redeemed and sanctified.
God’s people have always been a distinctive people set apart for God’s purposes. Even in her brokenness, what sets the church apart is Christ. She is indwelt by the same Spirit who is working in every member to bring about sanctification into the image of Christ. She has been bought with a price and is worth it to Him who calls her His beloved.
As a pastor or layperson, if she is worth it to Christ, then I can and must say she is worth it to me, for I am counted in her midst. That Christ would call me to be part of His church and His redeeming work within her produces both deep gratitude and awe.
To see and experience the brokenness of the church is also to see and experience the redeeming work of Christ as He makes all things new. As we navigate failed leadership structures, misaligned purposes, and wrong motives within her, we are also seeing the gospel of grace and mercy at work in real time as God withholds the judgment we deserve in Christ. He can deal gently with her because His wrath fell on Christ, whose righteousness now covers her.
In all her brokenness, she is worth it because one day she will be united face to face with the One who is redeeming her and bringing her to perfect holiness and final union with Him.
Humans are repeatedly compared to sheep in Scripture. If you know anything about sheep, you understand this is not a flattering analogy. Watch a few sheep videos and you’ll quickly see why.
Like sheep, we tend to stray (Isa. 53:6). We can be “harassed and helpless” (Matt. 9:36). We are not known for strength in adversity or for our ability to care well for ourselves (Ezek. 34:11–23), but we do have a “great shepherd” (Heb. 13:20). We may wander, but the Lord knows us (John 10:11–16) and claims us as His own (Ps. 100:3).
This world is a hostile place, and sheep only have two defense mechanisms: the Shepherd and the herd.
If you get too far from the Shepherd, you become lamb chops. And if you lose your herd, you become a gyro.
Thus, it is too spiritually dangerous for a Christian to walk alone. Christians need both the Shepherd and a local herd. When a sheep wanders from the herd, it’s only a matter of time before it becomes easy prey.
I see this all the time. I meet Christians, who still believe in Jesus, but they are not a part of any church or body of believers. Perhaps this stems from church hurt or some other legitimate reason for leaving. But whenever I hear about a Christian that has no church family, I think “Oh boy. That doesn’t sound good.”
A Southern preacher put it this way: “If you’re a lone sheep, you’re not a stud. You’re next.”
Whenever I meet a Christian who gloats in not needing a church, I never feel envy. I feel nervous for them: A believer without a local church is not a self-feeding, super-mature, super-Christian. They are wandering in the woods, oblivious to their need for community. Have you ever met a sheep alone in the wild? Exactly my point.
Imagine meeting someone with a Navy anchor tattooed on his shoulder. You might ask him, “Are you in the Navy?” “Nah,” he replies, “I used to be. But there was too much drama, frustrating leadership, and they made me go to this hour-long meeting every Sunday. It was inconvenient, so I left. I’m still a sailor—I’m just in my own Navy.”
You might reply, “You started your own Navy of one? That sounds like a good way to get captured by the enemy!” A Christian without a herd also sounds like a great way to be captured by the enemy.
Jesus famously told a parable of a lost sheep in Luke 15.
Most of us revel in the shepherd’s tenacity to leave the herd and journey through the wilderness looking for his lost sheep. It’s a beautiful image of God’s pursuit of his wayward children.
And yet, we often miss what happens next. What does the shepherd do once he finds his lost sheep? “He lays it on his shoulders,” Jesus says, and brings the sheep “home.” Home is the herd—the safest, healthiest, most prosperous place for a sheep to be.
For the record, the shepherd is with the herd. To value a deep relationship with the Lord while seeing no meaningful value in the church family butchers the shepherd imagery of Scripture.
To be far from the herd is to be far from the shepherd (Ps. 79:13). To be one of God’s sheep is to be placed in His “pasture,” within His “gates” (Ps. 100:3–4). When the Good Shepherd speaks to His sheep, He speaks to a herd (John 10:14). When He tends to His sheep, He gathers them as a flock (Isa. 40:11).
Jesus knew there would be Christians who would believe in Him but struggle to find a church family. He declared in John 10:16, “I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”
We must make church involvement a priority.
Perhaps you have a good reason for being unchurched. Maybe pain or disappointment from the family of God has left you with a bad taste in your mouth. If that’s your story, that pain matters, and it shouldn’t be minimized. Just “going back to church” may not be reasonable.
I instead challenge you to take one baby step toward finding a herd. Perhaps you need to seek healing from religious trauma. Maybe joining a Bible study or church small group is your first step. Or maybe you would benefit from simply talking with someone and sharing your story.
Whatever you do, do not remain churchless forever. And do not believe the lie, “I only need Jesus and my Bible. I don’t need a church.” The Bible never says that; not even once. The Good Shepherd never intended His sheep to live outside the flock He gathers and sustains.
You need the Shepherd, and you need His herd. So take one step toward home.
Jared Wilson has a new book releasing this month — Pastoral Mentoring for the Care of Souls — about the training and formation of pastors in the local church context. The guys discuss the important roles of both seminary and the church, and they outline the centrality of congregational life in the raising up of the next generation of church leaders. Preorder Pastoral Mentoring for the Care of Souls at 40% off today by visiting https://bakerbookhouse.com/products/9781540905956_pastoral-mentoring
My wife cooks healthy meals that nourish me day after day. Once I asked how she prepares them. She answered simply: start with good ingredients and use sauces that enhance the meal rather than cover it.
That answer lingered with me as I thought about my role as a preacher of God’s Word. What do I leave my people with? What do I train them to hunger for? Am I helping them taste the nourishment of the meal, or covering it up?
Pastors should think about preaching this way.
At its heart, preaching rests on a theological conviction: God has chosen to work through His Word. Scripture is not merely information about God; it is the instrument through which the Spirit confronts, exposes, and renews His people. The preacher’s task, therefore, is not to compensate for Scripture’s weakness but to faithfully serve its power.
In churches that rightly value expository preaching, the danger is rarely abandoning the text—it is subtly competing with it.
I felt this tension in my own ministry. I prepared sermons I believed were faithful, and I even had affirmation from others. Yet among the students and young adults I served, I noticed a disconnect. Their attention was present, but their hearts seemed elsewhere. Their expressions said, “This makes sense, but I don’t see how it has much to do with me.”
So I adjusted. I leaned harder into stories, illustrations, and humor. I felt I had to become the missing link.
And it worked—at least on the surface. Engagement increased. People thanked me for the fun and engaging message. Small group leaders told me their group discussions centered on my funny or heartfelt stories and how relatable they were.
At first, it felt great—it felt like I was doing my job well.
But there was a problem: I was slowly training our people to hunger for what I added rather than the Word of God itself.
Eventually I found myself burned out. One day I knelt before the Lord, anxious and exhausted, because I had nothing left to give.
As I sat there, I opened my Bible and read: “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12).
I read the verse again and again.
Then it struck me: the issue was not that expository preaching was ineffective or cold. The issue was that I had under-trusted the power already present in the Word itself.
Scripture does more than inform—it exposes and restores the heart.
Instead of asking how to make sermons more engaging, I began asking a better question: What is this text intending to do to the human heart—not just the mind?
If Scripture is sufficient (2 Tim. 3:16–17), then it already contains both diagnosis and remedy. My task is not to fill a “relevance gap,” but to stay with the text until it does its work.
As this conviction deepened, something in my preaching began to change. I preached more boldly, trusting God’s timing and methods. Immediate response mattered less because I knew the Word would work.
And in time, it did.
Transformation became quieter but more durable. Leaders shared that group members were confessing their own sins rather than criticizing or gossiping about others. Fewer people thanked me for a good message or story; more volunteered to share testimonies of what God was doing in their lives.
As the Word became central, I became less so.
A sauce enhances a meal; it does not replace it. In the same way, pastors serve the Word—we do not substitute for it.
When people leave remembering the preacher but not the passage, something has gone wrong.
This does not mean illustrations or personality are wrong. It means they must never compete with the formative work the text is already doing. When we rely too heavily on our contributions, we subtly suggest that Scripture needs our help to be effective.
Often, the deeper issue is impatience—an unwillingness to trust the slow work of the Spirit through the Word.
If you are just beginning in preaching ministry, you will feel pressure to perform before you have learned to trust the Spirit’s work through the Word.
When a sermon feels dry, you will be tempted to compensate. And people may respond. They may even applaud. But attention is not the same thing as nourishment.
Stay with the text longer than feels efficient. Learn to trust that the Word is good. Let it do its work. In time, your people won’t just remember your stories—they will be fed by the Bread of Life.
Serve the meal. Trust the Word. Let Christ feed your people.
Ftc.co asks Jed Coppenger, ‘How have hardships shaped your ministry?’.
