Rejoicing in the Light Amid the Night

By / Dec 12

There is a memory that will forever be ingrained in mine and my wife’s story. Within the past year, my wife and I became foster parents and received our first placement—a sweet two-year-old girl. Our connection with her was immediate. Within a day of picking her up from the hospital, it felt like she was our own child.

Nevertheless, it was God’s kind providence that led to the phone call that all foster parents dread but expect: they were coming to pick her up to take her to be with family.

The grief was immediate and deep. How do you just let a child you have grown to love go? Regardless of our desires, the time came, the social worker arrived, and against every fiber in us, we put that little girl in a car seat, never to be seen by us again.

And we wept—we wept long, and we wept hard. To this day, when I think of her, it moves me deeply.

When the soul is drowning, to what can it cling that is buoyant enough to keep it afloat? In those days of darkness, I found myself reflecting on the Preacher’s words in Ecclesiastes 11:7–8. They have held my hand as my wife and I have learned what it means to be “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Cor. 6:10) in the wake of our first child’s departure.

These verses invite us to look honestly and soberly at both the sweetness of life’s light and the certainty of its darkness. I invite you to reflect with me on what it means to bathe in the light as the sun dips below the horizon and the shadows of evening begin to gather:

“Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for the eyes to see the sun. For if a person lives many years, let him rejoice in them all; but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many” (Ecc. 11:7–8).[1]

  1. Bathe in the Light

It’s a beautiful verse, but what does it mean that light is sweet? In Ecclesiastes, light is the gracious revelation and manifestation of God’s goodness in a dark and broken world (2:13–14; 11:7–8). “Light” is not something meant to remain abstract—it is the very grace of God that warms the heaven-bound soul as they undoubtedly trek through many long, cold, and lonely evenings. It is something that can be held onto, whether physically or spiritually—it can be noticed, received, and remembered.

The light for my wife and me are the evenings of cuddles as we watched Bluey with our little girl and our shared laughter as she would get the “zoomies” before bed. The light was watching this child from an unbelieving family learn the rhythms of song and prayer.

There is much light elsewhere in my life. My wedding day. Reconciling with family members after years of relational tension. Brunch dates. Time in the Word and prayer where I feel intimate with the Lord and on fire for his mission.

Cling to the days of light, friends, and call them to mind often. Cling to the days where you can grab God’s goodness, receive its warmth and comfort, and go to bed with a smile and a happy heart. For as God gifts days of light, he also gifts another type of day in his providence: “the days of darkness will be many.”

  1. Accept the Night

The night is often long and cold. However, one of the first truths I had to learn to stomach before feeling the light again is that the night is not necessarily a bad thing. Notice that the Preacher does not condemn the days of darkness; he simply states, “the days of darkness will be many,” and this is something you should remember when experiencing the light.

The events that bring “the days of darkness” certainly can be caused by sinful origins, and that should not be ignored, but that does not mean everything about it is to be despised.

Rather, it is essential that we learn from the great sufferers of the faith who are able to say things like, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (Job 1:21), and, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good…” (Gen. 50:20).

Such is the wisdom of the Preacher, and such should be the disposition of the sufferer. The darkness is often painful, but when the righteous sufferer resigns himself or herself to the sovereign goodness of our God in all things, a context is created wherein light can be felt again—and the darkness becomes the backdrop that magnifies the great graces and gifts of our good God.

  1. Rejoice in the Light Amid the Night

Light is not only a blessing in the day; it becomes essential when night falls.

Following the opening declaration that light is sweet, the Preacher provides a foundational reason—signaled by the word “for” (rendered in the ESV as “so”)—why the light is sweet. Light is sweet precisely because life contains both stretches of joy and many days of darkness, and the ability to delight in the light is grounded in holding the two together—not their separation.

The Preacher is not offering a simple cause-and-effect: “Light is sweet… so rejoice!” That would treat joy as automatic and ignore the reality of darkness. Rather, he explains, “Light is sweet… for God gives years worth rejoicing in even though many dark ones will come.” The sweetness of light is meaningful because it exists alongside the days of darkness, and rejoicing is grounded in God’s providence of both days, not just in the days of light.

The sweetness of light is not naïve of life’s brutal realities, nor is rejoicing dependent on days of light; the tension between the sweetness of light and pain of darkness is meant to be held together for the explicit purpose that the days of darkness highlight the sweetness of the light.

You are right to rejoice in every day and year that God gives—for he really does give many good ones, even though darkness is a part of the package.

So when the sun drops beneath the horizon and the bitter cold of night begins to bite at you, hold the moments of light near, for these are the very means and graces of God ordained to sustain you and provide warmth when you can no longer see.

The evenings of laughter are not meant to make you collapse when they end—they are meant to remind you that God is good all the time, even when it doesn’t feel like it. They remind you that night is temporary. The same sun that sank beneath the horizon will rise again—dawn is as certain as dusk.

Cling to the days of health, joy, and intimacy with God, fellow church members, your children, and any other that God might bring across your path, for seasons of sickness, sadness, and loneliness will surely come. When they come, remember the graces and gifts of the past—for their sweetness will return again. It may not be tomorrow, but if you are in Christ, his light will dawn on you for an eternity. Therefore, we hope and do not despair.

[1] Most English translations render the Hebrew particle, ki, in v. 8 as “so,” but the word more commonly introduces an explanation or grounding (“for”). The Preacher is not drawing a conclusion (“so rejoice”) but giving the reason why light is sweet (“for God gives many good years even though dark ones will come”).



Deacons

By / Dec 10

By popular demand, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the church office of deacon. What is it? Who should be one? And how should they operate in a local church?



What encouragement would you have for pastors internationally? – Ashlyn Portero

By / Dec 9

Ftc.co asks Ashlyn Portero ‘What encouragement would you have for pastors internationally?’.



Wisdom Rarely Makes You Famous

By / Dec 5

I know many Christians who want to live wisely—and I do too. The rich tradition woven throughout the Old Testament calls us to embody the fear of the Lord in a way that transforms us into wise people. This is all great . . .  when it “works.” That is, when we get the promotion, gain respect at church, and receive the podcast invitation. But we live in a fallen world, and both Ecclesiastes and C.S. Lewis remind us of the subtle dangers of living for recognition and praise. Wisdom is a noble and right pursuit, but we should not be shocked when it doesn’t earn us recognition or prestige.

In 1944, C.S. Lewis delivered a lecture at King’s College, University of London. The talk he delivered to a group of young college students has become a famous address entitled “The Inner Ring.” In it Lewis states:

“I believe that in all men’s lives at certain periods, and in many men’s lives at all periods between infancy and extreme old age, one of the most dominant elements is the desire to be inside the local Ring and the terror of being left outside.”

In a stroke of religious and psychological brilliance, Lewis unpacks with arresting clarity the deep desires of the human heart to be loved, included, regarded, listened to, and accepted into the various “inner rings” of our lives—from friends, to co-workers, to politics, and even church. The temptation to live life striving to be accepted by our peers or our community can become an all-controlling feature of life. The desire for the inner ring is real. So, what does Lewis propose as an answer? Wisdom and work.

“The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it. But if you break it, a surprising result will follow. If in your working hours you make the work your end, you will presently find yourself all unawares inside the only circle in your profession that really matters. You will be one of the sound craftsmen, and other sound craftsmen will know it.”

Lewis here describes work done with skill and focus. This is not the path of self-promotion or maneuvering, but of wisdom and skill that warrants praise. The death of the desire to be in the inner circle is to pursue skill and wisdom with diligence, and Ecclesiastes 9–10 help us see why this is necessary: wisdom rarely makes a person famous.

Wisdom is Greater than Might

Ecclesiastes 9:13–18 tells a fascinating—albeit commonly overlooked—little story about a poor, wise man who delivered a city through his wisdom. This little story is one of my favorites in the book. There is something profound and strikingly realistic about the poetic justice of a great king with great siege-works being overtaken by the skill of a poor man in a little town by his wisdom. There is really no way to know what historical event the Teacher is describing, nor does it really matter. The point here is that wisdom has the power to protect and deliver. And this is a point for us to reflect upon: Do we believe true wisdom can protect and deliver? We live in a culture full of “shouting fools” (9:17), but do we believe that wisdom is greater than volume? Wisdom does not believe that the end justifies the means, but that the way we live shapes the end—the path of wisdom leads to life and deliverance.

The old man in the story is not celebrated or remembered (apart from this account in Ecclesiastes). He did not become the ruler, his name was not passed along, and he did not get a statue commemorating his accomplishment. One of the main ideas in these verses is that in a fallen world, we should not expect wisdom to be celebrated. But does this lack of recognition make his efforts in vain? No, he delivered the city! But he did not receive praise, glory, or honor. We live in a culture that sees shows of power and aggression as supreme, and wisdom as a waste of time. Wisdom is indeed greater than might, but don’t expect the mighty to admit it. The subtlety of wisdom is its own reward, and the wise know it.

Foolishness is Powerful

The Teacher of Ecclesiastes instructs us that another reason wisdom does not always get the recognition it deserves is because foolishness can reside in high places (10:5). In 10:1–11, the Teacher argues that while wisdom can deliver and is truly more powerful than weapons of war, foolishness also has its own ability to spoil things—like a dead fly in perfume!

This is true, right? How many headlines have we read where a life of good deeds was destroyed by a few moments of folly? Forty years of a virtuous career can be ended by one illegal decision. Foolish decisions have powerful consequences.

But folly not only has power because of its consequences; it is also powerful because of its ability to deceive. Ecclesiastes 10:3 describes an individual walking, lacking sense, and saying to everyone he is a fool. The passage is a bit ambiguous, but the idea is that either through his own words or actions he reveals he is a fool to all around him. The great power and irony of foolishness is that it is most often unobserved by those who display it most proudly.

In our current culture that values power, strength, shock value, and control, do not think that because folly hangs out in high places it is permissible—or benign. The Teacher explains that it will destroy a life… and a little goes a long way. There is no sin beyond the grace and forgiving power of the gospel, but talk to any longtime Christian, and they’ll tell you that being forgiven doesn’t mean that the consequences and memories of sin disappear. Wisdom recognizes the power of foolishness and counters it with a deep desire to walk in the paths of wisdom.

Go After Jesus, not the Inner Ring

In an Ecclesiastes-like fashion, Lewis warns of the vanity in pursuing the recognition of the inner ring:

As long as you are governed by that desire you will never get what you want. You are trying to peel an onion: if you succeed there will be nothing left. Until you conquer the fear of being an outsider, an outsider you will remain.

In Ecclesiastes, fools desire what they cannot have. Refusing to recognize the temporariness of this world, they seek ultimate fulfillment in things that cannot give it. In Lewis’s analogy, fools spend their lives peeling onions, only to find themselves empty-handed in the end.

Wisdom does not live for the inner ring, but for something more substantial. Ecclesiastes explains to us the power of wisdom and the disproportionate praise it receives in this world. But, like the Teacher of Old Testament wisdom, our Lord Jesus also calls us to a path of wisdom and virtue that is often not celebrated in this life. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us:

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it. (Matt. 7:24–27)

It is amazing how difficult and strange Ecclesiastes can feel at times, and yet how similar the message is to Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount. The first temptation of the serpent in the Garden of Eden was, “Did God really say….” The temptation to stray from God’s word continues through every generation. Wisdom is not crowd-sourcing. Wisdom is not trying to guess what the next big thing will be before everyone else. Wisdom begins with the fear of the Lord and building our lives upon his words. Wisdom believes that God’s instructions are good and life-giving, even though wisdom rarely gets a trophy.



Proverbs

By / Dec 3

It’s another installment in our occasional Bible book feature. This time around, Jared Wilson visits again with the Dean of Spurgeon College Dr. Sam Bierig about the book of Proverbs. Why is it deceptively complex? How do we end up reading the book wrongly? How should we read it, and how should pastors preach it? And where do we see Jesus in it?



How can pastors push back against the feeling of being isolated in ministry? – Jed Coppenger

By / Dec 2

Ftc.co asks Jed Coppenger ‘How can pastors push back against the feeling of being isolated in ministry?’.



Trusting God When He Seems Behind

By / Dec 1

Ten years ago, I was working at a job I thought was meaningless. I was twenty-three, engaged, and hoping to enter pastoral ministry. The Lord led me to become a member of a healthy church in my college town. I aspired to be a pastor but wanted to serve faithfully as a church member while taking some seminary courses online. I observed the lives of our three pastors, took opportunities to teach, helped set up for Sunday services, and led a Bible study for college-aged young men.

Two years later, my wife and I moved to Kansas City for seminary. I was twenty-six, sitting in class with many young twenty-somethings, and I felt behind in ministry because I had never served in a vocational church role.

As a twenty-six-year-old, I noticed friends starting families, purchasing their first homes, or beginning their first pastorates—and I felt left behind. Being in a seminary bubble, you see God work in individuals’ lives, calling them to serve churches at a young age or in ministry contexts immediately after graduation. I was thankful for my role in our church, even though it was only part-time. It was a paid ministry position, but before long, I found myself dwelling on the fact that I was not a pastor. In my selfish, fleshly mind, I thought God was behind—that He was not doing for me what He was doing for others, and they were much younger than I was.

Friends, whether you are in ministry or not, we can be tempted to think our sovereign, all-knowing, governing Lord is behind in placing us where we want to be. Here are three encouragements for those who struggle with contentment in the here and now.

Remember: God Is Always at Work

In a viral tweet, John Piper stated, “God is always doing 10,000 things in your life, and you may be aware of three of them.” For those in Christ, knowing that God governs your life should be the most peaceful news. Jeremiah 10:23 says, “LORD, I know that people’s lives are not their own; it is not for them to direct their steps.” God is always at work in our lives, guiding and directing our steps. Most of the time this is a mystery we spend long periods worrying about, but we are told in Matthew 6:34, “Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

People often say hindsight is 20/20—and providence proves this to be true. There are ways God is working for my good that I am completely unaware of. My knowledge is limited because I do not stand outside of time, but God does, and I take comfort in this. While here on earth, God may seem behind according to the timeline we want. We have ideas of what our life will be like in five years, but God alone has true and complete knowledge of this. That is why we can trust His timing and be content where He has given us opportunities to serve Him, whether in a local church or a nine-to-five job.

I worked many odd-and-end jobs that God used to provide for the next steps He had for me. We may never understand the purpose of God’s present placement in our lives. I never understood why I worked at a pantyhose factory while taking seminary courses online. Looking back, God was shaping me for service in His church. Human beings are meant to have limited knowledge, and that limitation should direct our gaze to the One who knows all things.

Trust: His Timing Is Not a Mistake

I can’t help but think of John 11 and the two grieving sisters who were convinced Jesus was behind. When Lazarus grew ill, they sent word to Jesus—yet He stayed two days longer. By the time He arrived in Bethany, Lazarus was dead, and both Martha and Mary said the same thing: “Lord, if you had been here…” To them, Jesus was late, operating on His own timeline instead of theirs.

But Jesus knew exactly what He was doing. Martha’s faith is shown in her words, “But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.” Yet even she didn’t grasp that the One standing before her was “the resurrection and the life.” They were not prepared for the glory He was about to reveal.

Jesus didn’t send a messenger ahead to reassure them. He didn’t heal Lazarus instantly from a distance, as He had done for others. He waited. Why? Belief. He delayed so that His disciples—and these beloved sisters—would see more clearly who He is. His apparent slowness was actually purposeful love.

And isn’t that our struggle? We often assume God is behind on the healing, behind on the provision, behind on the rescue. But what if He is holding back because we are not yet ready for what He intends to show us? What if, like the father in Mark 9, we are meant to cry out, “I believe; help my unbelief”?

What would it do to our faith if God revealed everything He was doing in our lives?

Rest: Trusting in God’s Timing

Throughout my path to pastoral ministry, these Scriptures on waiting have steadied my heart:

  • Psalm 27:14 – “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”
  • Psalm 37:7 – “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, over the man who carries out evil devices!”
  • Psalm 130:5 – “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope…”
  • Proverbs 20:22 – “Do not say, ‘I will repay evil’; wait for the Lord, and he will deliver you.”
  • Isaiah 8:17 – “I will wait for the Lord… and I will hope in him.”
  • Isaiah 30:18 – “The Lord waits to be gracious to you… blessed are all those who wait for him.”

Now, at thirty-three, serving as an Associate Pastor in Arkansas, married nine years with three little girls who fill our home with life, I look back and see the Lord’s fingerprints all over my story. Every challenge, obstacle, and unexpected turn was preparing me for what He had called me to. I’m still on that journey, but one truth has become unmistakably clear: trusting His providence always leads to good—even when the road feels slow.

Lamentations 3:25 declares, “The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him.” That is my counsel to the aspiring pastor, to the single young man longing for a wife, to the college student eager for the mission field.

God is not behind. Wait for Him.



Thanksgiving

By / Nov 26

Jared welcomes his wife Becky to the podcast for this special Thanksgiving week episode. They talk about family traditions, tips and reminders for being a gracious host, and how to remain thankful even in the midst of anxious or uncomfortable Thanksgivings.



What advice do you have for Christians who struggle with cynicism? – Dan Darling

By / Nov 25

Ftc.co asks Dan Darling ‘What advice do you have for Christians who struggle with cynicism?’.



Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?

By / Nov 24

Maybe this question echoes faintly in the back of your mind. Perhaps it slips in unnoticed as sorrow fills your heart and quickly becomes something to dwell on. Even if this question has never consumed you, my guess is that you’ve asked it before. It’s a functional rite of passage for those interested in apologetics or taught in the school of suffering. Maybe you haven’t asked it out loud, but you’ve likely felt the tension of this question: Why do bad things happen to good people?

“No one is good but God.” Perhaps you can even hear that answer. It’s how we tend to respond to this question, isn’t it? We point to Jesus, the perfect God-man who died for our sins, reiterating that there are no good people and that all of us deserve the judgment of God.

And this is correct. Paul tells us in Romans 3 that no one is righteous. Everyone has sinned. Sin incurs the wrath of God, and if everyone has sinned, then we all deserve the judgment of God.

People die because of sin. Judgment happens because of evil. Bad things happen because God is just.

And yet, even as I affirm this answer in its entirety, two passages in the Bible have reshaped how I view this question.

The Mystery of Justice

The first passage is Genesis 18. In this passage, God promises to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah for their wickedness. Abraham, knowing that his nephew Lot lives in Sodom, intercedes with God.

“Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?” he opens (18:23).

What could perhaps be taken as innocent curiosity soon begins to show its true colors: “Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city. Will you then sweep away the place and not spare it for the fifty righteous who are in it?” (18:24).

Abraham believes that the entire city of wickedness should be spared on account of a few righteous. His question borders on assuming the answer: “Of course God would spare the whole city on behalf of the righteous.” The next verse tells us why.

Abraham continues in 18:25, “Far be it from you to do such a thing, to put the righteous to death with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?”

Abraham isn’t accusing God of being unjust. He’s saying that because God is just, he can’t wipe away the righteous with the wicked. It would be unjust to do so, and this is why Abraham seemingly assumes the answer in his question. But, of course, Abraham is merely a man, and we see examples throughout Scripture of people who have skewed perspectives.

Yet, I don’t think Abraham has a skewed perspective here. For one, far from rebuking Abraham for his strong words, God promises that he will not destroy the whole city if he finds fifty righteous, seemingly indicating his agreement with Abraham (18:26). Additionally, Lot—whom Peter calls righteous (2 Pet. 2:7)—is indeed saved by God from the destruction of Sodom. Finally, Abraham never repents, nor does the narrative ever seem to critique Abraham’s words. By all accounts, Abraham’s words seem to be true: the righteous should not be punished alongside the wicked.

The passage leaves Abraham ignorant of the outcome. God’s departing promise is that he will not destroy the city if ten righteous people are present in it. The next time we see Abraham is in Genesis 19:27, where he goes up the mountain to speak with God and watches smoke rise from the ashes of Sodom. We have no record in Scripture of him meeting Lot again, no promise from God that Lot would be spared. Amid the mystery, Abraham is left with his faith in a just God. Abraham may not know that Lot survived. He may not know why God chose to destroy the city even with Lot there. But he does know that God is just and faithful, even when it seems like bad things might happen to good people.

The Mystery of Death

The second passage that speaks to this question is Ecclesiastes 8:14, where Solomon writes, “There is an enigma[1] that takes place on earth, that there are righteous people to whom it happens according to the deeds of the wicked, and there are wicked people to whom it happens according to the deeds of the righteous. I said that this also is enigma.”

The context reveals that Solomon is speaking of death. Here, like Abraham, Solomon wrestles with the mystery of the death of the righteous. How can this happen? How can the wicked survive in all their sin while the righteous die what seems to be the sinner’s death, despite their righteousness? How can bad things happen to righteous people?

Solomon doesn’t give us answers. Quite the opposite, in fact. He tells us that regardless of how hard we try, we will not find out all that God is doing in the world (8:17). We know he is still talking about the death of the righteous because he returns to this subject in 9:2, telling us again that “the same event happens to the righteous and the wicked, to the good and the evil,” that is, death. He doubles down, saying, “This is an evil in all that is done under the sun, that the same event happens to all” (9:3).

Solomon, writing inspired words of Scripture, tells us that the same death happening to both the righteous and the wicked is not only mysterious, but evil.

Assurance Greater Than Answers

When people come to us with questions of theodicy, seeking to understand how a good God could allow bad things to happen to people he saved, we can tend to be dismissive. We rightly cast focus onto Christ who, though innocent, suffered on our behalf, all the while unintentionally dodging the very question Scripture itself asks.

But when we come to Scripture with this question, it doesn’t blink. “You are asking the right question,” comes the reply from its pages. It gives us some answers—enabling salvation, producing holiness, refining faith—but much is left a mystery. It is a mystery why God causes bad and good to fall both on the righteous and unrighteous, but it is not a mystery that God does it.

Perhaps that’s scary for you. You know God as a comforter, not a pain-giver, and the thought of him knowingly causing bad things to happen is uncomfortable. But to you, my friend, I say this: God is a good God. He is sovereign and in control, and that’s a very good thing. We don’t always know why God brings bad upon the good, but we know that he is always just, and he will ultimately more than make up for anything we’ve lost or any pain we’ve felt.

This makes all the difference.

So often when bad things happen, we turn to Scripture with our questions. We want answers, but instead we find promises. Promises of eternal life, of pain becoming a thing of the past, of wrongs made right, and of justice that will be done. And this means that even in the enigma of pain and suffering, even in the mystery of bad things happening to righteous people, we don’t have to fear.

You don’t always know what God is doing in your life. But he does. So you can trust him.

[1] I understand the Hebrew term hebel, often translated “vanity,” to refer more accurately to “mystery.” See Jason S. DeRouchie, “Shepherding Wind and One Wise Shepherd: Grasping for Breath in Ecclesiastes,” The Southern Baptist Journal of Theology 15.3 (2011): 4–25.