By ddickerson / Mar 25
The Film Club is back. In this installment, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the late, great Robert Duvall showpiece, 1997’s “The Apostle.”
Gospel-Centered Resources from Midwestern Seminary
The Film Club is back. In this installment, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the late, great Robert Duvall showpiece, 1997’s “The Apostle.”
Unless the Lord tarries, this Sunday pulpits all over the globe will be filled with pastors preaching God’s Word to God’s people. The confidence in the exhortation of a sermon is not birthed in the preacher but in the inspired text he proclaims. This article seeks to advocate for the discipline of letting the Word speak by weaving biblical theology into Sunday sermons. Preaching that honors the whole canon empowers preachers to build sermons they can be confident in, edify the body with the whole Bible, and stand the test of time.
Though definitions vary, biblical theology is the discipline of understanding how an author of Scripture has purposed a particular text to be understood in light of the whole Bible. More than simply seeking to understand the meaning of individual words, biblical theology pays attention to motifs, literary devices, and structure. One of the great benefits of a unified canon is that Scripture interprets Scripture, so if you’re paying close attention, the biblical authors may tell you how to interpret something being said or taking place.
With this being said, let’s look at an example from Luke’s Gospel, focusing on how biblical theology might impact a sermon you would preach on Sunday.
“Jesus Feeds the Five Thousand,” “Peter Confesses Jesus as the Christ,” and “Take Up Your Cross and Follow Jesus” may be three distinct sermon titles—after all, they are the ESV’s subheadings in Luke 9. Certainly, it is not wrong to preach these texts independently. However, Luke has woven these episodes together so that the disciples might gain a clearer picture of who Jesus is and what it means to be His disciple.
In Luke 9:10–17 Jesus feeds the multitudes in a “desolate place.” Paying attention to language here, Luke uses the Greek noun for “wilderness” to describe the setting. Elsewhere in Luke, John the Baptist is said to be in the “wilderness” until his public appearance (1:80). Luke 4:1 then also records that Jesus was led by the Spirit into the “wilderness.”
Thus, in the context of the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus is located in a “wilderness” setting and performs a miracle by feeding the multitudes. This invites a question: Where else have we seen the multitudes fed in the wilderness? Exodus 16 recounts Israel’s hunger and God’s provision of bread from heaven. Luke uses the wilderness setting and Jesus’ miraculous feeding to highlight Jesus’ divine power to provide for the multitudes—just as God did in Exodus 16.
The narrative seems to jump to the next pericope in Luke 9:18–22. Jesus is alone praying. Upon returning, Jesus asks his disciples, “But who do you say that I am?” This question marks the crescendo of a theme that has been building in Luke’s Gospel: Who is Jesus? This question appears repeatedly (Luke 4:36; 5:21; 7:20; 7:49; 8:25; 9:9).
Peter, as the spokesman, answers, “The Christ of God.” Immediately after this confession, Jesus refers to Himself as “the Son of Man,” calling to mind Daniel 7:13–14, where the Son of Man receives an everlasting kingdom and dominion. While Peter may understand Jesus has been sent from God to deliver His people, Jesus clarifies that it will not come as he expects. Jesus capitalizes on the Son of Man motif to explain that He must suffer, be rejected, be killed, and be raised. Jesus’s teaching slowly straightens out Peter and the disciples’ understanding of who He is.
In the final episode, Jesus does not allow His disciples to stand on the sidelines and watch, but they too must take part in Jesus’ path of suffering. Luke strategically knits together the previous passages to arrive at this moment, revealing both the magnitude of who Jesus is and the cost of discipleship.
Who is Jesus? He is not simply like Moses, who witnessed bread coming down from heaven in Exodus 16. Jesus is the Bread who has come down from heaven (John 6). He is not like Elisha, who relied on God to feed a hundred men (2 Kgs. 4:43–44). Jesus is the divine Son of God who Himself works miracles. He is not like the other kings of the world. He is the King who establishes His rule and reign by dying for the sinners and rising again to life.
In Luke 9:23–27, the disciples must recognize that there is none like Jesus. To follow Him is to cast off the present evil age and to long for His kingdom, “when he comes in his glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels.”
Careful attention to how Luke has composed these episodes reveals his intended meaning: to display the greatness of Jesus and to clarify what it means to be His disciple. Rightly bringing themes, motifs, and literary devices into the pulpit exposes God’s people to the grandeur of the whole canon, strengthens assurance in the unified story of redemption, and grounds the preacher in what is truly present in the text.
Pastors, we do not have to reinvent the text, be abstract, or function as content creators. We must be miners—excavating the text, its themes, constructions, placement, wording, and literary devices—so that when Sunday comes, we enter the pulpit confident not in ourselves, but in the unfolding wisdom of God revealed in His Word. Biblical theology helps us do just that.
I spent a decade in youth ministry, and it came with some of the greatest joys of my life. Few things are richer than walking alongside parents to see their teenager come alive in Christ. There were light bulb moments I was able to witness during fun overnight trips—all on very little money and sleep. Helping teenagers follow Jesus is a roller coaster, though. They have these big dreams, desires, and feelings with a very underdeveloped prefrontal cortex, which causes what the Bible might describe as foolishness. It was endearing, though.
Church life cycles are akin to the development of a child. There is an infant stage, and then they hit a teenager stage where they have big vision but very little brain development to support it. Churches want to have great worship gatherings, build a kids ministry, do mercy ministry, and reach the lost—and it’s beautiful. I have served on staff at a church like this. Yet they don’t have the wisdom to accomplish what they actually want to accomplish. Their passion has exceeded their prudence.
And what are the consequences of this?
How many of our church plants or replants are in buildings with stories related to poor leadership decisions or financial negligence?
The early church had this same problem. Luke says, “Now in these days when the disciples were increasing in number, a complaint by the Hellenists arose against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution” (Acts 6:1).
What happened? The church was growing, but needs were being neglected. Jethro’s charge to Moses was similar: “Moses’ father-in-law said to him, ‘What you are doing is not good. You and the people with you will certainly wear yourselves out, for the thing is too heavy for you. You are not able to do it alone.… So it will be easier for you, and they will bear the burden with you. If you do this, God will direct you, you will be able to endure, and all this people also will go to their place in peace’” (Exod. 18:17–18, 22–23).
Passion and white-knuckling our way through ministry can be fun, but it is often not wise. Like the church in early Acts and Moses coming out of Egypt, we often do what we think is best in our own eyes, not what is best for the whole.
So how can churches be more prudent?
Wisdom often comes in a multitude of counselors. I am not arguing for a particular model of elders, deacons, or committees—I would just urge you toward bringing multiple people to the table of decisions who are marked by wisdom. Who are the people in your congregation that others go to for advice? Find them, buy them coffee, and ask for wisdom.
Take an examination of how you do things. Review your bylaws and personnel procedures to ensure you are practicing in accordance with them and with governing laws. How does your church make decisions? Does it welcome wisdom? Is it ethical? Write down the last 10 decisions your church has had to make and review how you could have used wisdom better and sought more input—input that generates more trust.
Passion often wants to go fast. Fast is fun. Yet, what is more inspiring: a teenage date to the movies, or a 75-year anniversary date at 4:00 p.m. at Cracker Barrel? In our zeal to reach people, we often go so fast that we miss what truly matters—and in particular, we miss people. Going slow in your processes and decision-making over the long haul is likely the most efficient and effective way to go about it. You will have fewer mistakes to clean up, fewer follow-up meetings, and less guilt about who you’ve hurt. So in your next big decision, ask: What if we prayed, sought wisdom, and considered this over the next three months?
My best volunteers in youth ministry were the ones who were burdened to help students avoid the same folly they had gone after. These youth workers would step into students’ lives and say, “Hey, I’ve been there—it doesn’t work out the way you think it will.” There are pastors and churches that have traveled the road ahead of you who can say the same thing. Find a local pastor in your region and ask, “Can I pick your brain about some of the things going on in my church?” They often say yes.
The greatest fruit of youth ministry was seeing your students grow older. They go to college, get jobs, get married, have a family, and create beautiful things. It wasn’t because their passion died—it’s because they learned wisdom. Like teenagers, our passion for God’s glory shouldn’t die—we just need to aim that zeal through the conduit of prudence. If our churches do this, we do more than pop up for a few years; we establish a faithful presence that lasts decades.
I recently had to make a decision—a decision I haven’t had to make in over ten years.
Where would my family and I go to church?
For about a decade, I served on church staff, so this decision was simply part of the job—a choice made through an interview process. When you work vocationally at a church, you don’t wake up on Sundays wondering which faith family you’ll join for worship that morning.
In the last year, I transitioned from local church vocational ministry to state convention ministry. My current role serves churches all over the state, so as long as we attend a Southern Baptist church within a reasonable distance of the convention office, we could live and attend church anywhere we wanted. Suddenly, we were faced with finding a new physical home for our family and a new spiritual home—a new faith family.
Options for housing were endless and included multiple considerations: availability, price, safety of the neighborhood, school district, distance to work, shopping, grocery stores, restaurants, number of bedrooms and bathrooms, garage, yard size—the list could go on and on. Buying a house can be overwhelming. One way to simplify the process is by choosing your church before choosing your address.
This might sound unusual, but for many believers, the decision is made in reverse: you pick a house first, then hope there’s a good church nearby. Some other criteria are used to choose a neighborhood, and then you hope you stumble onto the right faith community afterward.
Instead of asking, “Where will I live?” we should ask, “Who will be my community?” Believers are given a community in the spiritual brothers and sisters found in their local church. To be connected to that community in a healthy way, it needs to be local.
Having folks over for a meal, hosting a small group in your living room, leading a Bible study around your kitchen table, or responding quickly to a crisis is much harder when your commute to church is longer than your commute to work or school. The community—this family—that God graciously gives us in the local church is for our formation. Along with His Word and Spirit, His people are the elements that shape us into the image of His Son.
If this community plays a major role in our formation into Christlikeness, choosing where we go to church is of utmost importance. It’s a choice that can guide where we buy a house, which college to attend, or when to take a new job.
Followers of Jesus were never meant to follow alone. Discipleship does not happen in isolation. The depth of connection in your community is directly linked to your proximity to them. Before you pick a house, pick a church.
Maybe no subject in church life is more polarizing than the prospect of small kids in the church service. Are they a delight? Or a distraction? The guys sort it out on this episode of the FTC Podcast.
I tried to calculate what lay ahead.
One emergency surgery. One tumor removed, along with part of my colon. An ileostomy bag. Six months of chemotherapy. An ileostomy reversal. Five weeks of recovery. Another month and a half of radiation. When I added it all together, the result came to nearly three-fourths of 2025.
I ran those numbers one night while trying to fall asleep. Instead of resting, I drifted into worry. My mind raced ahead, tallying the burdens those nearly 275 days might carry—every procedure, each side effect, all the needles. I was attempting to shoulder tomorrow’s troubles all at once. Eventually, I remembered to pray, and the Lord graciously brought to mind verses I have often shared with others in seasons of suffering: “Blessed be the Lord who daily bears us up. God is our salvation. Our God is a God of salvation, and to God, the Lord, belong deliverances from death.” (Ps. 68:19–20)
The Lord daily bears us up—day by day, one day at a time.
Jesus said it this way: “Don’t worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matt. 6:34). Each day’s shelves are stocked with plenty of burdens, Jesus says. No wonder I couldn’t sleep.
Through Psalm 68:19, Jesus has ministered to me with a precious truth, “Leave tomorrow’s burdens there; I will bear you up under them tomorrow. Leave every procedure, each side effect, and all those needles right where they are, on their own appointed days. I will bear you up when we get to them. I bear you up under your real burdens when they show up in real time, no matter what or how many they are.”
“But Jesus,” I argue, “there are so many real burdens coming my way. Will Your bearing match my burdens?”
In Hebrew, the first line of Psalm 68:20 literally reads, “Our God is a God of salvations.” Salvations, plural. Our God has an endless supply of salvations. The next line says it another way: “To God, the Lord, belong deliverances from death.” While there are many ways to die, both literally and figuratively, our God has many more ways of escape. He has stocked His shelves with an endless supply of rescues from daily deaths.
That’s how Jesus can bear us up daily. The storehouses of His heart are fuller of salvations and deliverances than our days are filled with troubles and deaths. Jesus said it this way to the suffering apostle Paul: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).
It’s enough. Whatever this day’s burden, thorn, loss, or pain, the strong grace of the resurrected Jesus is enough. And as the weeping prophet Jeremiah experienced, “His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning” (Lam. 3:22–23). Your troubles can never drain Jesus dry. His supply of mercy and grace is fresh every morning and sufficient for every day.
So how can I know that Jesus is qualified to bear me up daily? The proof of His promise is found both in His character and in the burden He has already carried.
Psalm 68 crescendos with praise for the character of this burden-bearing God: “Awesome is God from his sanctuary; the God of Israel—he is the one who gives power and strength to his people. Blessed be God!” (Ps. 68:35). The Apostle Paul later quotes verse 18 and reveals that Psalm 68 ultimately points to Jesus (see Eph. 4:8). Jesus is the conquering King who has defeated Satan, sin, and death and now reigns in power with His Father by His Spirit. Our Jesus is the one who “gives power and strength to His people” to bear them up day by day.
Our hope in each day’s suffering is this: Jesus already carried our heaviest burdens, so He is uniquely qualified to bear us up under our comparatively “light and momentary afflictions” today (2 Cor. 4:17).
Jesus was grieved, stricken, smitten, afflicted, pierced, crushed, chastised, and wounded—all to bear us up under our greatest burden: the soul-crushing weight of guilt and the penalty of the never-ending death our sin deserves (Isa. 53:4–5). On the cross, Jesus bore the heaviest burden, the sharpest thorn, and the most excruciating relational loss there is to bear. His blood-stained cross and empty tomb are the proof we need to trust that He has already taken our greatest burden upon Himself.
If Jesus already bore our biggest burden, how will He not also be with us to bear us up under every smaller burden we will ever carry (see Rom. 8:31–32)? In his final sermon, Charles Spurgeon put it this way: “The heaviest end of the cross is ever on His shoulders. If He bids us carry a burden, He carries it also.”
My heart’s desire is to turn each page of my appointed cancer calendar one day at a time—one procedure, side effect, and needle at a time—and to lean on Jesus as He bears me up under each one. “Day by day with Jesus” has become my prayer.
What can you do today when tomorrow’s worries weigh heavy on your heart? I have found the following practices helpful:
Day by day with Jesus—this is how the One who cares for us promises to carry us.
The Apostle Paul is a valuable model for pastors in so many ways, including the way that he boldly waded into controversial and touchy topics. Evaluating his ministry in Ephesus, he said, “I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:27).
We can see this kind of boldness on full display in his first letter to the Corinthians, where Paul publicly rebuked the church for their tolerance of “a man… sleeping with his father’s wife” (1 Cor. 5:1). Paul knew that this kind of flagrant sexual immorality must not be tolerated in the church, so he pressed past any awkwardness he may have felt while writing about sex. He had to call the church to holiness.
Unfortunately, many pastors today feel uncomfortable preaching about sex from the pulpit. We often hide behind pseudo-modesty, unwilling to shepherd this area of their lives while our churches have “sexual immorality among [them]” (1 Cor. 5:1).
I’m not saying that pastors should have a lustful urge to preach graphic, nearly-pornographic sermons, but I am saying that we need to stop shrinking back from declaring the whole counsel of God.
The task couldn’t be more urgent:
In a world as sexually confused as ours, we can’t leave our people like sheep without a shepherd. We need to speak up.
Here are five guidelines to consider how to address sex from the pulpit.
The Bible talks about sex. A lot.
From Adam and Eve’s “naked and unashamed” life in the Garden, the exhortations to become so intoxicated with your wife that you end up “lost in her love forever” (Prov. 5:19), Paul’s candor about sex and sexual sin mentioned above, and so many other examples—the Bible doesn’t shy away from speaking about sex.
You don’t need to force the topic of sex into a Scripture passage where it isn’t, but you do need to be ready when sex comes up to address it in an intentional way.
Sexual sin is deadly. The Bible doesn’t hold back and we shouldn’t either. The sexually immoral will not inherit the kingdom of God (1 Cor. 6:9–10).
This needs to be said. But if you stop here, you haven’t preached the whole counsel of God.
The people in your church—married or not—should know that sex is a wonderful gift of God.
The Bible makes clear that sex is meant to be pleasurable. While Scripture clearly presents procreation as a central purpose of sex, it also devotes significant attention to sexual pleasure and mutual delight within marriage. Our preaching should reflect that reality too. When preaching about sexual sin, don’t just warn about the consequences of the counterfeit. Invite your church to the joys of the real deal.
However, sex is wonderful, not just because of this physical pleasure it can bring, but because it reflects profound spiritual realities about marriage. In the vulnerabilities of sex, we have an opportunity to serve one another with an intimacy not available in any other sphere of life.
The unmarried in your church need to hear this. Teach so that young people in your church one day enter marriage (if the Lord wills) with a holy excitement about sex, not lustful craving or legalistic trembling.
This is equally important for the married people in your church to hear. It’s easy for spouses to become roommates without regular, intentional effort. Set a beautiful vision of marriage before your church to give every couple something to aspire to in their own homes.
Remember the above statistic about half of Christian marriages having one-sided sex? That’s not going to fix itself. The sheep aren’t going to get out of the valley of the shadow of death without a shepherd. This issue is too deeply entrenched in the church and reinforced by the culture.
The men in your church need to be clearly called to serve their wives in bed. This should be included in the application any time that we call husbands to “man up” at home (because, statistically, most of them are failing in this area). This should be a topic of men’s retreats and marriage seminars. This should be called out from the pulpit with the same clarity that Paul called out the Corinthian man who was sleeping with his father’s wife.
Husbands need to be told that sex should be wonderful and pleasurable for their wives.
Husbands need to be told that the cultural lies about men having a “higher sex drive” than women are myths.
Husbands need to be told that their selfishness in bed is sinful and they need to cultivate real, honest conversation about sex with their wives.
We preach to sexual sinners, but we also preach to sexual sufferers. Sexual abuse has, almost certainly, wreaked havoc on the lives of men and women in your church. When we preach about sex, we’re entering a vulnerable space, so we must proceed with caution.
Make a plan with your elders about how to speak carefully about sex from the pulpit. What words are acceptable and what aren’t? For example, should we say “orgasm,” stick to the more generic, “climax,” or should we avoid both of these words altogether? Would the church be comfortable with “sex,” or is the vaguer “marriage bed” to be preferred?
If you think you may feel uncomfortable preaching about sex, send a draft to godly men and women in your congregation and ask for feedback ahead of time. Their careful eyes can’t control what you preach, but they can give you helpful feedback about how something might be perceived. Again, this is a vulnerable area to discuss, so we need to proceed with caution.
Talking about sex is hard. It has been ever since the fall, when Adam and Eve realized they were naked and covered themselves up. But Jesus restores the broken things. He is a redeemer and we look forward to the day when he makes all things new.
Author’s Note: If talking about sex seems overwhelming, I wrote a book to help. Sex and Self-Forgetfulness is a 30-day devotional for married couples. It unpacks God’s design for pure, pleasurable, unifying sex and helps couples live that design out by having honest, careful conversations with one another. I hope this is a resource that can equip you to preach and counsel with confidence. I also hope it’s a book you can put in the hands of people in your church.
[1] https://www.barna.com/trends/over-half-of-practicing-christians-admit-they-use-pornography/
There’s something about groups of women that can be incredibly empowering, but on the other side, deeply destructive. I’ve experienced both. Some groups are healthy and life-giving; others are toxic and draining. And for women, I think this issue begins young. The stereotype of the “mean girl” didn’t appear out of nowhere—cultural pressures and psychological factors shape how girls, and later women, relate to one another. Exploring all of that would take a collaborative effort far bigger than one woman can unpack alone.
What I do know is this: women can be unbelievably nurturing, but we can also be competitive, insecure, and judgmental. Women’s church groups aren’t magically exempt from that—we’re human, after all. Being Christians doesn’t erase the cultural patterns that shaped us; it simply exposes how deeply those patterns run. So here’s the real question: can we step outside what has formed us culturally and intentionally step into what Christ offers? Not by “trying harder” or checking off a spiritual to-do list, but by living from a new identity, not just performing new behaviors.
I’ve spent time in many different groups—some filled with mean girls, others genuinely loving. Even in the loving ones, judgment can be silent, but still present. How can we be truly loving and not unhealthy? Like many things I read, I ask: what does that actually look like in real life? Strangely, my first exploration of this didn’t come from a Christian book or Bible study, but from a very secular context. Maybe that’s not surprising—God undergirds the systems of life and extends common grace to all people.
This thought process began when we lived abroad. My husband speaks and teaches German, so experiencing different cultures became normal for us—beautiful at times, hard at times, always stretching. Here’s what I noticed: When I spent time with people from different cultures and languages, I felt more comfortable. Even if I was quiet or reserved, I didn’t feel the judgment I might normally feel in my circles at home. I chalked it up to the lack of cultural standards—there was nothing to compare against. We met each other purely as people. All the unspoken rules, silent hierarchies, and subtle judgments dissolved. Even if judgment existed, it didn’t land. I couldn’t take it seriously because there was no standard by which to measure me.
Years later, I began to see these experiences through a biblical lens. As people poured the gospel into me through action, I wrestled with a practical question: where can we help women? Can we take our God-given capacity to nurture and actually extend it to one another, instead of tearing each other down?
I’ve heard it repeatedly: women should build each other up; we should be each other’s biggest cheerleaders. And while I agree, I often ask, how? What does that actually look like? We say it, but nothing seems to change. We claim to build each other up, yet behind the scenes, we still tear each other down, creating the illusion of growth without real transformation. Outward behavior may shift, but the underlying instinct is muffled, not transformed.
God created us for community, to feel loved, seen, and valued. He has written that longing on our hearts. Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 says, “Two are better than one … if either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.” Yet in our human way, we mismanage this longing. One common misstep is believing that acceptance requires us to emulate the people in the group we want to belong to. That inevitably leads to comparison—and we all know what comparison does: it steals joy and fosters unhealthy competition. 2 Corinthians 10:12 warns, “Not that we dare to classify or compare ourselves with some of those who are commending themselves. But when they measure themselves by one another and compare themselves with one another, they are without understanding.”
On the other hand, if we refuse comparison entirely and focus only on celebrating our differences, we risk isolation. To emphasize uniqueness, we must set ourselves apart, becoming “different, but alone.” Scripture warns against this as well: God created us for community, not solitude (Gen. 2:18).
Here lies the paradox: we’re called to live in community, yet we’re built to be different from each other. In such paradoxes, I find Jesus waiting, ready to reveal purpose. The gospel reconciles what seems irreconcilable. So how does this look in women’s ministry? How can we be part of a community while recognizing our differences?
The solution is not outward conformity but inward transformation. We must surrender the part of us that strives to emulate and invite Christ to take up residence within. Only then can we live in community freely, celebrating differences not as threats or trophies, but as reflections of the life He pours into each of us. Galatians 2:20 says it well: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.”
My cultural experience abroad mirrored this truth in a small way. We were living life, but it was as if all the unspoken rules, silent hierarchies, and subtle judgments had dissolved. When I realize Christ lives in me, there is nothing left to judge. Every talent, every skill, every insight is given by Him. How, then, could I compare myself or judge others? United in Christ, it becomes clearer how to love one another. Even between believers and unbelievers, we are all image-bearers of God.
As women, we can come together in our differences and participate in community if our inward life reflects Christ—not just in actions, but in identity. The gospel shapes who we are. Are we boasting in gifts and talents that foster comparison, or in who Christ is in us, allowing Him to shape our true identity?
My experience of different cultures coming together, where judgment seemed to dissolve, felt like a signpost from God. But this glimpse is incomplete without the full gospel. Cultural differences may remove some standards we use to judge one another and temporarily reduce comparison, but the gospel goes deeper. Through Christ’s blood, we are united in an eternal bond, empowered not only to live without judgment but to love one another with His love. As Jesus said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35).
There’s a larger cultural shift to be explored, and I pray for the days of the “mean girl” to be behind us. Yet even in the brokenness of this world, we can trust a God who reveals His sufficiency.
In an age of increasing church consumerism and church division, Christians sometimes leave churches for less than honorable reasons. But what are the honorable ones? In this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz talk about the why’s and how’s of leaving a local church.
When is your compassion tested most in ministry? Recently, after a long and somewhat discouraging Sunday, I was finally sitting on the couch ready to relax. Then my cellphone rang. It was one of my church members—a kind lady, usually encouraging and full of positive words. But we’ve all had “those days.”
“Those” are the days in which our compassion is tested the most. Those are the days we realize just how different we are from the Chief Shepherd. I trust you have had a day like mine. I trust you have had a reaction like mine. We might summarize it this way: I was not compassionate toward my member. As I continued preaching through the gospel of Matthew, I learned a few lessons on compassion from the Chief Shepherd.
Jesus had hard days of ministry. With the crowds, we see just how different and sinless our Lord is. He models the perfect compassion of a shepherd. Matthew 9:36 says, “When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (emphasis added).
Jesus had compassion on them, and yet I have no doubt this crowd had a lot of baggage. Many came to Him not knowing who He was. I venture to guess that the majority of this crowd did not have their theological ducks in a row. They probably asked Jesus, from time to time, to cut the Sermon on the Mount down by a few minutes.
Yet Jesus had compassion on them. He didn’t deride them. He wasn’t frustrated by them. Pastors, we would do well to learn from Jesus’ example with the crowds. He had compassion on the masses during the hard days—despite their peculiarities—and desired to shepherd them.
If anyone knew about long, taxing days of ministry, it was Jesus. In Matthew 14, after hearing of John the Baptist’s death, Jesus withdrew from Nazareth to a desolate place. Matthew 14:13–14 says: “Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a desolate place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Emphasis added).
Jesus wanted a moment to retreat and pray—to rest and commune with His Father. But the crowds didn’t take the hint. And yet, when He saw them, He had compassion and healed their sick.
Here I see my own shortcoming. After all of the Lord’s Day events, I am tired. Yet even on my busiest Sundays, I haven’t experienced half of what Jesus did. That phone call I received doesn’t compare to a massive crowd following Him to a place of retreat. I didn’t have compassion on my church member that day. But Jesus has compassion upon compassion. Our own compassion after long days of ministry can learn much from His example. When we want to quit or when our patience runs thin, we should look to the Chief Shepherd.
We are tired, weak, and worn out after long days of ministry. We pastors feel the weight of being embodied souls in time, space, and fallen bodies. But we often forget that we share this reality with our people.
Jesus had compassion on the crowds in Matthew 15:22 for this very reason: “Then Jesus called his disciples to him and said, ‘I have compassion on the crowd because they have been with me now three days and have nothing to eat. And I am unwilling to send them away hungry, lest they faint on the way’” (Emphasis added).
Jesus tells the disciples that He has compassion because they are hungry—it’s been three days! Our typical Sunday morning may only be a few hours, yet even our harshest critics would have to admit the crowds’ needs were far greater. Our people are tired, hungry, and ready to rest. We should not forget that we are tired come Sunday afternoon, and so are they. The sheep get tired and may act grumpy. We can bear with them patiently, remembering that our embodied souls need care just as theirs do.
Brothers, we are not as compassionate as our Lord. If our people’s righteousness depended on our perfect compassion, we would all be in trouble. But we have the gospel of Christ’s righteousness.
We have a perfectly compassionate Lord. The Good Shepherd teaches under-shepherds how to care for wounded sheep, stubborn sheep, needy sheep, and wandering sheep. May He help us to be so compassionate.