Sometimes I Struggle With the Bible

By / Aug 24

Sometimes I struggle with the Bible.

When I read Scripture, potential distractions abound. So many things seem more urgent and alluring—things like email, text messages, social media, the day’s news cycle, to-do lists, the latest Netflix series or music release, or opportunities to connect with actual, in the flesh human beings.

Boredom can set in. True, it is all God’s Word—what an amazing gift! But when it comes time to plod through Leviticus, or those long lists of who begat whom and who is in this tribe or that tribe, or trying to make sense of laws that feel more dated than relevant, or engaging the darker parts—rape, incest, family dysfunction, bloody wars, lying and stealing, backbiting, pettiness, and frustrated prayers—natural instinct says there might be a better use of time.

I also find the Bible perplexing. Children die for the sins of their parents. Entire people groups are oppressed and abused and enslaved by people in power. Weak and innocent people suffer while ugly-hearted people prosper. God saves some and passes over others. Two well-meaning men get struck dead for touching the ark of God. And the list goes on. These and other unnerving depictions can feel less like inspiration and more like cable news.

I relate to what Mark Twain allegedly said, that “it ain’t the parts of the Bible that I can’t understand that bother me; it’s the parts that I do understand.”

It is comforting to know that one of my personal heroes, C.S. Lewis, shared similar feelings about the more perplexing parts of the Bible. Reflecting on Psalm 19:10, where King David compares Scripture to a treasure of fine gold and a taste sweeter than honey, Lewis wrote:

“This was to me at first very mysterious. ‘Thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not commit adultery’—I can understand that a man can, and must, respect these ‘statutes,’ and try to obey them, and assent to them in his heart. But it is very hard to find how they could be, so to speak, delicious, how they exhilarate…they may obey, they may still respect the statute. But surely it could be more aptly compared to the dentist’s forceps or the front line than to anything enjoyable and sweet.”

Indeed, honest Bible readers—even skilled teachers of the Bible like C.S. Lewis—have found parts of it difficult, puzzling, mystifying, and even offensive. As much as we can rejoice in, get inspired by, and find comfort in certain parts of the Bible, other parts will disturb us—namely, the parts that contradict our feelings, instincts, hopes, dreams, traditions, and cultural values. I recently saw a quote that said, “Men do not reject the Bible because it contradicts itself. They reject it because it contradicts them.”

The Apostle Paul, whose life completely upended when the Word of God came to him on the road to Damascus, wrote things such as:

“All Scripture is God-breathed and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work.” (2 Timothy 3:16-17)

“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5)

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” (Romans 12:2)

Jesus, too, emphasized the centrality of God’s Word in the lives of believers when he said that we are to love God not only with our hearts, but also with our minds (Luke 10:27). He described the revealed will of his Father as his food and drink (John 4:34), resisted Satan’s temptations by quoting Scripture, saying, “Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:1-11), quoted the Psalms from the cross (Matthew 27:46; Luke 23:46), and emphasized to his followers that abiding in him and abiding in Scripture are one and the same (John 15:7-10).

To put it another way, we simply cannot separate life in Christ from a life that is utterly saturated with and dominated by Scripture. Fulfilling our calling to love and enjoy God with everything that we are, and to love our neighbor as ourselves, stands or falls on whether (or not) we become people of The Book.

Editor’s Note: This article originally was originally published at scottsauls.com. 



Episode 174: FTC Mailbag Episode

By / Aug 24

On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ross Ferguson open up the mailbag for another round of listener-submitted topics and questions, including: whether pastors are held to a higher standard, whether should disqualified leaders have their books removed, finding a rhythm for pastoral visitation, and more.



Who are the “Sons of God” in Genesis 6?

By / Aug 23

In Genesis 6 Moses paints a picture of the human race falling into sin to such a significant degree that God is said to have “regretted” making mankind (Gen 6:6). The depths of sin that God witnessed among those who were created to bear his image (Gen 1:26–27) had “grieved him to his heart” (6:6). This picture of the sinfulness of mankind sets the stage for one of the most well-known stories in the Bible: the flood narrative.

As with most biblical stories, however, the various details are often debated. The particular debate I’m interested in here is concerned with how we identify the “sons of God” in Genesis 6.

Here is the passage:

When man began to multiply on the face of the land and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of man were attractive. And they took as their wives any they chose. Then the Lord said, “My Spirit shall not abide in man forever, for he is flesh: his days shall be 120 years.” The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown. (Gen 6:1–4).

In this text Moses describes the multiplication of mankind on the face of the earth. This, after all, was the imperative given to Adam and Eve (cf. Gen 1:28). As humanity increases, there is a strange story of “sons of God” being attracted to the “daughters of man” (6:2). The situation (“sons of God” finding the women “attractive”) results in marriages (“they took as their wives”). But the question is, who are the “sons of God” that find these women “attractive” and then marry them?

There have been several answers provided in the history of interpretation. The two answers that I’m most interested in are the (a) Sethite view and (b) the Fallen Angels view.

The Sethite view understands the “sons of God” to be the descendants of Seth. The women (i.e. “daughters of man”) were not women in general but the offspring of Cain. The overarching point, then, is that the line of Seth is intermarrying with the line of Cain, the murderer of Abel. This, it is argued, helps explain the downfall of the human race into such degrees of sin that God is grieved and eventually unleashes the rains of judgment.

Another view understands the “sons of God” as angelic beings that have become sexually involved with women. These fallen angels are perhaps who Peter and Jude have in mind in various places (cf. 1 Pet 3:18–22; 2 Pet 2:4–10; Jude 5–7). Again, the overarching story aims to show the depth of sin that the human race had fallen into. Here, fallen angels, like their father the Devil before them (cf. Gen 3:1-7), helped lead all of mankind away from their Lord.

Admittedly, this position is not without problems and there are reputable biblical interpreters who take a different view (e.g. John Calvin). However, there are a number of persuasive arguments in favor of the fallen angel view:

  1. Though not determinative, this view seems to be the majority view of Christian history.
  2. Second Temple Judaism writers understood the passage as referring to angels.
  3. “Sons of God” is used to reference angelic beings in other parts of the Bible (Job 1:6; 2:1; 38:7).
  4. The specific phrase “sons of God” is not employed to reference God’s people in the Bible, though God’s people are called God’s sons in various places (e.g. Jer 3:19).
  5. Angelic beings are perhaps in view in Gen 6 according to NT passages (cf. 1 Pet 3:18–22; 2 Pet 2:4–10; Jude 5–7).
  6. In this view, the use of “man” (אָדָם) is employed consistently to reference the totality of mankind.

In my view, the fallen angel position makes the most sense of the flow of the narrative and the grammar of the text. It is the grammar of the text that has caught my eye most recently and is one reason I hesitate to take the Sethite view. Namely, Moses references “man” or “humankind” (אָדָם) eight different times in 6:1–7. The usage consistently aims to describe the entire human race, not one narrow slice of humanity.

Now, why does this present a problem for the Sethite view? Those who understand the “sons of God” to be descendants of Seth believe these men are marrying women who are in the line of Cain (“daughters of man”). Moses, according to this view, is showing what happens when the line of promise mixes with Cain’s line. Furthermore, this view means the usage of אָדָם in 6:2 and 6:4 is not a reference to all of humanity but narrows in on the line of Cain only.

Again, why is that a problem? I believe one reason this is a problematic reading is because Moses consistently used אָדָם (“man”) to refer to universal humanity in Genesis 6. His point is to show the universality of sin and therefore help readers make sense of the universal judgment of God that comes via the flood. To see, then, the use of אָדָם (“man”) in this flow of thought as limited to one slice of humanity (i.e., the descendants of Cain) would introduce an idea that seems out of place. It would require us to read the text this way: 

When [all of humanity] began to multiply on the face of the land and daughters were born to them, 2 the sons of God saw that the [daughters of Cain] were attractive. And they took as their wives any [of the daughters of Cain] they chose. 3 Then the Lord said, “My Spirit shall not abide in [all of humanity] forever, for he is flesh: his days shall be 120 years.” 4 The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the [daughters of Cain] and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown. The Lord saw that the wickedness of [all of humanity] was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. 6 And the Lord regretted that he had made [all of humanity] on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. 7 So the Lord said, “I will blot out [all of humanity] whom I have created from the face of the land, [all of humanity] and animals and creeping things and birds of the heavens, for I am sorry that I have made them.” (Gen 6:1–8).

Perhaps Moses is trying to show his readers that the intermarrying of the descendants of Seth and Cain led to a spiral downwards into such levels of sin that warranted the flood of God’s judgement. Yet, what clues would cause us to read אָדָם as narrowing in on the line of Cain when the passage consistently uses אָדָם to paint a picture of universal humanity? And universal human sin is the particular problem Moses is highlighting and the coming flood will deal with. It seems we would need more, or at least clearer, grammatical warrant to adopt a reading that understands two uses of אָדָם (“man”) in the middle of a narrative (6:2, 4) to move from universal (mankind) to a more narrow referent (line of Cain). Despite the biblical-theological reading that argues for the Sethite view, as theologically interesting as that reading may be, we must not jettison commitment to the grammar of a text.

Instead, it seems to me the best reading sees every use of אָדָם (“man”) as a reference to the totality of humankind. Thus, all the families of the earth are multiplying. The “sons of God” found women attractive and married them. These demonic forces (fallen angels) are involved in leading the totality of humanity away from God, just as the Serpent had led Adam and Eve to rebel. The whole human race has spiraled downward. Sin abounds. God is grieved. Judgment is coming. And it is coming to every slice of the human race for all have sinned (cf. Gen 6:7; Rom 3:23). Only God’s mercy allows Noah to escape via the ark he is commanded to prepare.

Admittedly, these questions are complex and the Sethite view is a plausible (and faithful) reading of the Genesis account. In the end, whether you see “sons of God” as descendants of Seth, fallen angels, or you take some other view, the overall point seems clear. Southern Seminary professor, Dr. Bill Cook, states the matter succinctly:

Of course, I may be wrong, and the Sethite interpretation may be correct after all. I certainly grant that the ancient view seems strange to our modern ears. But since Peter and Jude both appear to have held it, it seems to me the best interpretation of Genesis 6:1–4. Regardless of which interpretation is correct, though, the main point is plain: humanity was falling deeper and deeper into sin and running farther and farther away from God.

In light of the pervasiveness of human sin, the text sends us to our knees. We all, like mankind before us, have turned aside and gone our own way (Rom 3:12, 23). Therefore, we are humbled to the dust. 

And yet, Genesis 6 reminds us that though sin abounds, the grace of God abounds all the more. Noah builds an ark that saves all who take refuge within. Thousands of years later, God provides another ark of salvation. That latter ark is not a boat made of wood but a person who carries a wooden cross and dies a substitutionary-atoning death for all those who would turn from sin and trust in him. Thus, like those who found refuge in Noah’s ark and were saved from the waters of judgment, those who come to Jesus are brought through the waters of judgment and saved from wrath of God (cf. 1 Pet 3:18–22). 



Yes, the Devil is Real

By / Aug 22

A couple of years ago, when I was doing a round of interviews for my book The Gospel According to Satan, one question I repeatedly encountered took be aback: “Do you really believe in the devil?”

In our post-Christian, largely irreligious age, it certainly doesn’t go without saying. Plenty of people do believe there’s such a thing as evil, that there are indeed actions that are morally wrong, but fewer and fewer believe there’s any kind of personality behind this evil. Even among professing Christians, the idea is growing that “Satan” is more a force than an actual being.

So do I believe there’s an actual devil? You bet I do. And here are a few reasons why:

First, given the biblical explanation for the origin of existence, only evil persons explain the presence of evil in the world. In other words, to believe that evil is only a force —- some ethereal wickedness or antagonistic but impersonal power —- is to identify God, who is the Creator of all things, as the author of evil. But the idea that evil only exists as a force in opposition to God and his holiness is more akin to Eastern religious views than to a Judeo-Christian worldview. Satan is no yin to the Lord’s yang.

The Bible explains that God created all things good but that he endowed his sentient creation —- both angels and humans -— with the freedom to will good or evil. Some angels rebelled, which explains the origin of evil as a personal, intentional insurrection. When Adam and Eve succumbed to temptation, they brought sin to all humanity in what is known as the Fall. Thus, while the power of sin is a pernicious spiritual force in the world, it is always manifested in either spiritual beings or human beings. The Bible explains that one of these fallen angels is a chief leader in this wickedness.

Secondly, the Bible also depicts the devil as a real being, not as an impersonal force. Even through the poetic language of Genesis 3 or the early chapters of Job, the narratives depicting Satan are thoroughly historical in nature. Just as Adam and Eve were real persons, so the serpent was a real serpent, really speaking. The dialogue between God and the devil concerning Job is also indicative of a real being. In other words, God wasn’t talking to himself! Nor was he interacting with some impersonal force.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, the New Testament writers undeniably believed the devil was a real being. An impersonal force cannot “scheme” (Eph. 6:11). An impersonal force does not have a “will” (2 Tim. 2:26). An impersonal force cannot “prowl” (1 Pet. 5:8). Most notably, Jesus himself dialogues with the devil during his wilderness temptation (Matt. 4).

So, yes, I do believe there is a real devil who commands real demons. He really does want to destroy God’s good creation, and he really does tempt and try real Christians.

None of this, of course, means we ought to resign ourselves to fear. While the devil and his power are real, we know that Christ has sealed his doom on the cross and at the resurrection. And we know that as powerful as the devil may be, he is, as Martin Luther says, “the Lord’s devil,” which is to say, he cannot exceed the sovereignty of his Creator. The devil’s days are numbered, and on the day of Christ’s return, he will finally and fully be vanquished forever — and his power and all sin with him. Through the gospel, you can partake of this devil-defeating power. Even now. For as real as Satan is, Christ is realer still.



Pastors and Their Critics: A Book Review

By / Aug 19

Every pastor, at some point in their ministry, will encounter criticism. However, how a person responds to criticism is not necessarily something that happens naturally wholesome. Joel R. Beeke and Nick Thompson, in their new book, Pastors and their Critics: A Guide to Coping with Criticism in the Ministry, discuss a common but unaddressed problem that is unfortunately pervasive within the church today. They aim to speak to the question of how one should respond to destructive criticism toward the pastor. They address the problem in four parts, setting first a biblical foundation, then writing on practical principles for coping, and then giving constructive criticism, while lastly giving an idea on how to cast a theological vision for criticism. The book is accessibly written and rooted in biblical truth while also being unfortunately wise due to the authors’ years of experience weathering the storms of criticism in ministry.

Dr. Beeke brings a vast amount of pastoral experience as well as having authored a plethora of ministry-related books. Though brief compared to many of Dr. Beeke’s other works, this book still packs much in terms of wisdom and counsel into its smaller size. Nick Thompson, a candidate for ordination in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church and a graduate of Puritan Reformed Seminary, is a capable coauthor and contributes excellently to the appendix both on the need and tools for preparing for criticism while still in seminary.

The book is broken down into four parts, the first being laying out a biblical theology of destructive criticism. Starting with the Old Testament and the first criticism of God by the serpent in the garden, the authors trace the misuse of criticism through the Bible, ending in the second chapter with the Christological foundations for coping with criticism. “He suffered for me, and now I will suffer this criticism for Him. God has vindicated His Son, and God will vindicate me one day as well” (p. 42). Dr. Beeke emphasizes that Christ was unworthy of the criticism he bore, yet he still received it in grace; how much more as pastors who are sinners should weather criticism and therefore resemble Christ. This beginning biblical foundation helps establish a view on criticism that is graceful while also showing the relatability of Jesus to the situation of difficult criticism. Often the Bible is not utilized at the foundation of books on leadership and emotional issues, Dr. Beeke’s book starts refreshingly different.

Part two deals with the practical and spiritual ways of coping with destructive criticism focusing on the idea that, “As pastors, we not only can expect criticism – we need it” (p. 61)! Beeke and Thompson lay out a challenging but effective guide on the four ways a pastor should respond to criticism realistically, humbly, with sober judgment, and in grace. “Though we do not embrace all criticism as true, we need to embrace all critics with grace” (p. 113). The second section is the most significant chunk of the book and is extremely helpful in the pastor’s response to criticism. The book is excellent in teaching how to handle criticism in a Christ-like manner, rather than defaulting to the temptation to ignore it merely. Beeke and Thompson strive throughout the book to see one’s self as who they truly are, a sinner found in the beauty of God’s grace. Therefore, the pastor’s response is one of humility, one that does not listen to every objection but learning instead that “coping with criticism in the ministry requires a healthy reckoning with reality” (p. 55). A reality in which pastors are just as much saved by grace as those who are spewing the negative criticism. Throughout this section, the time-tested ministry of the author is exposed as someone who has not been without harsh criticism in his life. His responses show a humble heart, and at times appreciative of criticism and how it shapes him professionally and spiritually. 

In part three, after addressing the way to handle destructive criticism, the authors give two chapters on giving Christ-focused and constructive criticism to others. The authors lay out three characteristics that a person should have to give criticism well: ethos, pathos, and logos. These three helpful categories help identify and shape the heart of the criticism giver by giving practical yet spiritual advice of the nature of the criticism to give. In ethos, “We must be men of integrity” (p. 123), in pathos, “criticism is best carried out in the context of a ministry of encouragement” (p. 128), and in logos, “word choice is a critical element of constructive criticism” (p. 132)—all this, with the goal of always giving criticism to build up the body of Christ. The authors sum this up by giving the wise warning, “pastors, we must beware of Christless criticism” (131). Chapter eight leads naturally into a section where the authors formulate this into a vision for the church. It is evident that the author has experience in receiving harsh criticism and giving constructive criticism well. Chapters seven and eight are written from someone who has not bungled all of his interactions and then is writing a book on what not to do, but a pastor who has carefully weighed the cost and done criticism well in his ministry.

The last part, a singular chapter, finishes the book nicely by laying out an encompassing survey of a theological view of criticism for life. As typical of Beeke, his end goal is not a sharp vindication of his critics but a grand vision of God’s glory in ministry. He writes this in the final pages, “Brothers, strive in dependence upon the Spirit to daily seek after a more expansive vision of God’s mind-renewing glory in His Word” (p. 154). He accomplishes his goal of practical ways to address criticism in his book exceedingly well. While also drawing the reader back to the heart of ministry, the desire to exalt the glories of God in Christ. 

The authors not only handle the topic of criticism with skill but with wisdom, helping pastors and ministry leaders see the glorious labor of sanctification within the mines of destructive criticism. This book would be helpful, especially for anyone in a ministry role who could or is experiencing both destructive and constructive criticism.  

Editor’s Note: This book review was originally published in the Spring 2022 issue of the Midwestern Journal of Theology. 



3 Bewares for Returning Short-Term Summer Missionaries

By / Aug 18

Well, you’re back, and we all bless and thank God for it. God has taken your summer sacrifice of sharing the gospel and planting churches among the least, last, and lost and used it to advance His kingdom. That said, let’s not too quickly announce this summer is your spiritual peak!

I want to talk to you about the crouching tiger waiting to pounce as you re-enter family, church, and class life upon your return. It’s a pitfall I’ve seen in myself and in many others, time and time again, where upon returning from a short overseas trip, I fall prey to pride.

Pride, you could say, is really the poisonous garden in which all the other sins of anger, greed, malice, covetousness, lust, and the like grow.

Thus, hear the Word of the Lord to you, short-term summer missionary:

“Pride comes before destruction, and an arrogant spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18)

Maybe you need to read that two times.

The Fork in Your Road 

In God’s kind providence, I have had the privilege of studying the book of Proverbs in-depth for 10 years now. To really understand and apply any given individual proverb, you must understand its thematic-theological context (what an individual proverb means inside the literary whole of the book itself). This positions the reader of Proverbs not to interpret Proverbs in a topical fashion (which is suboptimal), but rather as God intended.

Proverbs, as an inerrant and God-delivered book, is controlled by one master metaphor which could be summed up in the phrase: “Life comes at us as a series of decisions between two different ways.” You could call this the two ways theme in Proverbs. It controls and informs the whole composition of Proverbs, as well as the individual proverbs and sections.

In essence, with every penny spent, you are choosing between wisdom and foolishness, righteousness and wickedness. Every friendship is a decision between wisdom and foolishness, or righteousness vs. wickedness. Every piece of counsel either accepted or rejected is a decision ultimately between a path of wisdom or foolishness, righteousness or wickedness. Every sexual thought or encounter is not isolated, but rather an investment in either a wise or foolish, righteous or wicked path.

God in Proverbs, then, wants to say to you, “To be alive is to be on a path—one of two paths, and that reality in my created world is irrevocable.”

As a short-term, summer missionary, you are at a fork in the road. Are you going to choose the wicked path of pride that leads to death (death of something!), or the path of humility that leads to life Himself—the Son of God?

Proverbs 16:17 warns us to beware the path of pride. It is a warning. You will immobilize yourself for God’s glory and your sanctification if you pursue the path of pride.

In that spirit, I have three warnings for you:

1. First, beware of the prideful path of spiritual complacency

After a big win or accomplishment, there is this strange pattern that seems to occur: complacency.

The children of Israel became Olympic-level grumblers and complainers after they crossed the Red Sea. They weren’t even the ones who accomplished the feat, and yet they fell into complacency (Exodus 16).

Elijah, after slaying 500 Prophets of Baal, embarrassingly fled in fear and trembling from the pagan witch queen Jezebel. God was for him, so who could’ve been against him (Romans 8:31)? And yet Elijah fell into fear of man and complacency (1 Kings 18-19).

There is a pattern. After big wins, we have to watch out for complacency. Your sacrifice overseas was a big win. Beware the pattern of “blowing it” by becoming complacent.

You’ll know you’ve fallen into spiritual complacency when your Bible reading seems drab and the Son of God seems boring in comparison to the adventures you had overseas. You’ll know you’ve fallen into complacency when the stateside souls of lost men seem trivial to you.

The cure for spiritual complacency is more Bible! More prayer! More dreaming and eventual execution of Great Commission plans.

You don’t need less spiritual nourishment, you need more. Maybe, just to taunt the devil and inflict a blow on the kingdom of darkness, decide to sit down for 10 hours and read John straight through. Beg God to make Himself precious and beautiful to you again. Likewise, go to a local coffee shop and resolve not to leave until you’ve had a meaningful conversation with a lost person. Maybe it’s time to learn Hebrew or Greek or the dialect of the people group you plan to go to next.

It’s time to share the gospel, friend. It’s time to train and then go back out again. It is not time for complacency.

2. Second, beware of the prideful path of spiritual elitism

Upon your return, you don’t want to become the freak-summer-missionary version of what Paul articulates in Philippians 3 about his pre-Christian self.

I re-wrote Philippians 3 as if Pharisee Paul had been a freak-short-term-summer-missionary-Paul instead. à la Philippians 3:4–8:

“…though I myself have reason for confidence in my short-term missionary accomplishments and also my completion of mission work…If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in his short-term missionary work, I have more: sent out from an elite American sending agency after a few weeks of training, I am of the people of Evangelicals, of the tribe of Baptists/Presbyterian/Charismatics, as to a foot soldier in the army of God I am of a missionary rank; as to hard places, mine was the hardest, in the 10/40 window even! When I evangelized, I was nearly persecuted! As to the law of Bible-reading while overseas, a blameless Quiet Timer.”

Stings a little bit, eh?! Like looking in the mirror a bit?

But Paul knew his true status in Christ when he wrote:

“But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.” (Philippians 3:7-8)

You’ll know when you’ve fallen into spiritual elitism when you start expecting people to note or acknowledge your sacrifice. You’ll want your lowly hearers not so much to grovel in your presence on account of your sacrifice, but you would like them to accentuate your kingdom status just a bit.

You’ll know you’ve fallen to spiritual elitism when you like to say things like: “You know, that reminds me of the time this last Summer when I was sharing the gospel on the moon with the aliens there…”

You’ll know if you’ve fallen to spiritual elitism when you are more willing to share the gospel in your hard-to-reach place than you are in your own hometown. If that is you, you have fallen into the trap of spiritual pride. You are nurturing thoughts of pride in your heart that you are not a normal church member, but rather something of a Navy Seal in the Kingdom of God. How tragic.

The cure for such spiritual elitism is to follow Jesus’ humility in Matthew 9, where Jesus sees the people disheartened and helpless, and did not shoo them away as sinful fools, but instead healed them. He took time to condescend to them and taught them. He was compassionate toward them and preached life to them. You, precious saint, ought to engage with family, friends, and church members in their ignorance of the global gospel need. Don’t shame them. It’s a losing strategy anyway.

God doesn’t only care for those overseas, after all, for there is no such thing as “overseas” to Him. All seas, souls, and lands are His, and He cares greatly for all peoples. So don’t take up the mantle of elitism thinking you’re in a different category than other Christians.

3. Third, beware of the prideful path of godless nostalgia

Lastly, beware the temptation and tendency to drift into godless nostalgia. Let me illustrate: nobody wants to be that 48-year-old guy who is still talking about how his team barely missed the playoffs in high school, and if they’d made the playoffs, they’d surely have won the championship and he would’ve been the MVP of the game. How embarrassing!

Here’s the point: Your summer deployment and short-term missions sacrifice was real and important, but it ought not be your spiritual peak. If it is, you’ve probably fallen into the pride of godless nostalgia. Pride metastasizes—then we often fall unawares, only able to see how far we fell years later.

The cure for prideful nostalgia is, by God’s grace, to dream a new dream! And not just dream a new dream, but execute it. Get to work taking that next hill, be it stateside, overseas, or in the realm of personal holiness.

God the Son had every reason—literally every reason—in the universe (because he made it) to be prideful. And yet instead, He assumed flesh and died in the stead of sinners like you and me.

Not once did Christ walk the path of pride—not once. He ought to be worshiped and adored for this. Ask him to allow you the strength, vision, and fortitude to follow Him out of the death clutches of your pride.

Beware the prideful path of spiritual complacency, elitism, and nostalgia. By God’s Grace, our Triune God sent you and sustained you and has brought you back stateside. Your family, friends, and local church are not there to slow you down in pursuit of the Great Commission, friend. God more likely has placed them in your life to sanctify you. Now, go plan your next short-term mission trip.



A Gospel for the Broken

By / Aug 17

In the past week, I’ve walked with a friend through a miscarriage, listened to a heroin addict explain that he shoots up because his brother was shot in front of him, and sat with a friend confessing sin and sharing how the consequences will affect their life.

Though I’ve not experienced their specific pain, I also feel the brokenness of the world in my bones. The aches in my heart and body remind me that not all is as it should be in this world. Every broken promise and early goodbye leave another scar, another fear to fight.

The world handles this brokenness in a number of ways: denial, self-help, seeking anything to fill the void or heal the wounds. It’s taken me almost a decade of being a Christian to realize that just because I am a believer doesn’t make me immune to doing these same things with more spiritual language.

For example, being so focused on dwelling with Jesus in heaven that I do not share Jesus with this suffering world. Covering guilt and shame with my attempt at good works rather than looking to the finished work of Christ on the cross. Pretending pain isn’t real instead of embracing what it means to be “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.”

After four years of walking through a hard season, I’ve discovered the emptiness of my pursuits. My best intentions and “solutions” to brokenness in and around me don’t work. But reading the pages of Scripture has given me a better word:

You can love Jesus with your whole heart and still be sad.
You can love Jesus with your whole heart and still lose people and things you love.
You can love Jesus with your whole heart and still make mistakes.
You can love Jesus with your whole heart and still suffer.
You can love Jesus with your whole heart, and it can still be broken. You can still be broken.

But here is the beautiful thing: Jesus died for the broken. He says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matt. 11:28-29). The pain I see in the eyes of those around me is not unseen by Jesus. The same can be said of the aches and scars you carry.

Not one moment in our lives—not one decision, mistake, change, or loss—happens apart from God’s intention. As difficult as this may be to believe when faced with evil or hardship, we need only look to the gospel to know it is true.

When Jesus died, he was a 33-year-old single man who “had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him” (Isaiah 53:2b). He was despised, rejected, and mocked. His formal ministry started at 30 and took place over 3 years before ending with him being led like a lamb to slaughter. No worldly eyes would look upon such a life as “successful.” How would we treat such a man if he showed up on a seminary campus?

Yet this is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. And this was God’s plan all along, prophesied in Isaiah 53:10:

Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days.
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.

The worst moment in all of history was ordained by God as part of his plan of redemption. This should be comforting to us as we walk through the worst moments of our lives.

God’s Word says, “This light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17-18). Jesus was displayed on the cross—an instrument of torture, shame, and death—only for a moment, but he will reign on his throne in glory for all eternity.

Believer, God’s plan for your life is better than anything you could have expected because what is broken will not only be restored but redeemed. No matter what you lose in this life, if you have Christ, you have gained all. Take heart: we can acknowledge the sadness of the world without forsaking the beauty of the gospel because ours is a gospel for the broken.



Episode 173: Ronni Kurtz on Fruitful Theology

By / Aug 17

On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson talks with friend and former co-host of the podcast Dr. Ronni Kurtz about his new book connecting the life of the mind to the life of the soul.



Serve the Lord with Gladness

By / Aug 16

It was late. My car was quiet. My children had fallen asleep on the drive home from church. Wednesday night church. But it could have been any night; we were there any time the doors were open. I was driving around aimlessly, praying, crying– discouraged. Years later, I can’t even remember what made me so upset other than that I was exhausted. Exhausted from serving. Exhausted from wondering when it was my turn to be served. Honestly? I was ready to quit. 

As I drove around my neighborhood, my car lights hit a church sign with the exact words I needed: “Serve the Lord with gladness.” I read the sign, cried some more, and drove home with a new attitude. My motivation in serving was wrong. In my mind, the people around me were the problem, but in reality, it was my heart. I was working hard but not with gladness, and I hadn’t been glad in a while. My pride was evident; my boundaries were non-existent. I needed to find the right motivation in my service to the church if I was going to continue without burning out.  

The scripture from the church sign had come from Psalm 100: “Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing! Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture” (‭‭Psalm‬ ‭100:1-3). 

Anyone who knows me knows I am obsessed with Psalm-singing. I sang this Psalm many times without applying the truths from it. Psalm 100 gives us guidance not only in our attitude when we walk into corporate worship each Sunday but into our service to the church as a whole. Because the Lord God made us we should serve him– and not merely out of obligation but out of love and devotion because we are his people who he has chosen!

As the Psalm reminds us, he guides and protects us as a gentle shepherd. Jesus has laid down his very life for us, his sheep. When we look to Jesus we see the standard for both service and humility. When we compare ourselves to others instead of Christ we are quick to think more highly of ourselves than we ought. If Jesus is our standard then we will be much more likely to live a life of loving, joy-filled, self-sacrifice.

Our ambition is to be pleasing to the one we are ultimately serving, King Jesus. Why are you scrubbing toilets? Or painting on a church work day? Why choose to teach Sunday school, preach the Word, or play guitar? It should be an easy answer. To please King Jesus. Everything we do in our service to the local church must be for King Jesus which is impossible when we are prideful. 

Having the right motivation changes our attitude when we aren’t feeling glad about serving. We will be cheerful in even the most mundane tasks when we remember who we are ultimately serving. When we lack joy in service we should check ourselves. Are we truly aiming to please Jesus? Are we thinking more highly of ourselves than we ought? Are we letting comparison kill our joy? Are our desires aligned with the desires of Jesus?

Having the right motivation changes our attitude about results. We no longer need the validation of numerical growth and visible fruit when our aim is simply pleasing King Jesus. Seeing the fruits of your labor can be so encouraging, but a lack of fruit is not necessarily evidence of failure in ministry if your ambition is faithfulness to Jesus. 

Having the right motivation changes our attitude when we are criticized. We no longer need the validation of people when we can be confident we are being obedient to King Jesus. Criticism can be constructive and expose blind spots. We should be open to feedback and consider if that criticism holds truth instead, we often let negative feedback take hold of us, and let it take our eyes away from pleasing Christ. If criticism triggers a feeling of under-appreciation, that’s pride sneaking into your heart. Perhaps criticism makes you decide to quit serving? Pride again. 

Having the right motivation encourages healthy boundaries. We no longer need to say yes to everything because we know Jesus himself rested— and he’s the servant we model ourselves after. We also don’t avoid doing less desirable acts of service because we know Jesus took the form of a servant and washed feet. Whether you’re the type of person who says yes to everything, the kind who avoids serving in less desirable ways, or if you just don’t know where to serve, our goal is the same: aim to please King Jesus. 

There have been plenty of days since that late Wednesday night drive where I’ve had to remind myself of my ambition and refocus back on Christ. Whether you struggle with burnout, criticism, or laziness in your service to the church we all need to get our motivation right in order to work heartily for the Lord and not men. We can rest in the finished work of Christ and work hard until he returns. 



Is Your Gospel an Urban Legend?

By / Aug 15

When our children were itty-bitty we made believe that Santa Claus was real. The excitement for Christmas morning always built up, as our girls couldn’t wait to see what gifts jolly ol’ Saint Nick was going to bring them. Then this illusion came crashing down when we informed them one day that Santa Claus, in fact, was not a real person. The whole thing: made up.

Except nothing came crashing down, really. Our youngest feigned a bit of surprise, but our oldest was unmoved, and both of our girls basically accepted the news with about as much weeping and gnashing of teeth as you might give the news that your favorite coffee drink had gone up $0.50. It’s a little disappointing, but nothing to get bent out of shape over. (The assurance that they’d still get presents on Christmas morning probably didn’t hurt.)

I’ve heard from many anti-Santa Claus people that you shouldn’t play Santa with your kids because of the way it can affect their Christian worldview, the way it can plant seeds of doubt and disillusionment, hurt over what else you might be deceiving them about, once they learn of Santa’s mythological status. And I sympathize with this concern. But I think the reason our girls weren’t sent spiraling into some crisis of unbelieving despair was precisely because Santa was not our worldview. We barely talked about him. We only brought him up around Christmas time, and we never used him as a guilt-trip or ascribed god-like qualities to him (for example, “You better be good, because Santa is watching you and he won’t bring you any presents”).

I imagine that it was not too difficult, even when our girls sort of believed Santa was a real person, to separate the importance of Santa from Jesus because our familial life didn’t revolve around Santa. We didn’t read every day about Santa or discuss how Santa would want us to treat our friends at school. We didn’t talk about the importance of Santa for our everyday life. Dad didn’t write books about Santa or preach on Sundays about Santa. When we sinned against our kids, we didn’t come to them for forgiveness out of a desire to make Santa look beautiful. We didn’t tuck them in with prayers to Santa. And the community of faith we raise our kids in isn’t devoted to Santa. In the grand scheme of things, learning Santa wasn’t real was not a huge deal.

In fact, our oldest daughter confessed she’d already begun to suspect Santa wasn’t real precisely because even though we talked about him bringing presents on Christmas morning, we didn’t really act like he was real otherwise.

And if you’re wondering what any of that has to do with the gospel, here it is:

If you talk a big game about “the gospel,” but don’t live like it’s true, the people you do life with will begin to suspect you don’t actually believe it. Worse yet, they may begin to disbelieve it themselves.

Consider these examples:

— Children grow up in a home where grace is articulated, perhaps even frequently, and yet the dominant culture of the home is one of law. The demeanor and the discipline of the parents reflects more a concern about behavioral compliance, not heart transformation. The rules and the expectations outside the home carry the chief concern of looking like a nice, tidy Christian family, an example to others, inordinately preoccupied with reputation and impression. There are more rules than necessary, and most of them seem to function less to train the kids up with godliness and more to make the parents’ lives more comfortable and convenient. The talk is gospel, but the climate is legalism. What happens to these kids? They grow up hearing about the gospel the same way they hear about a fairytale land. They hope it’s true, but all evidence seems to suggest it’s not.

— A married couple does all the right religious things but treat each other behind closed doors according to self-centered expectations and desires. They both know the gospel. But one spouse withholds affection and kindness from the other. The other, in turn, becomes overly needy, pouty. They are each making unreasonable demands of the other, one in coldness and the other in desperation. They can talk grace all the live-long day, but the culture of their marriage is law. After a while, the gospel begins to seem less real. Enough people talk about it that it has the appearance of truth, but the power of it is unfelt, unseen. The climate of their home is legal, and the gospel starts to sound like a rumor, some kind of urban legend.

— A church plasters the word ‘grace’ everywhere, but the substance of that word has not quite sunk down into the bloodstream. The pastor preaches on the gospel. The people read a lot of gospely books. They brand all their programming and resources with the word “gospel” and “grace.” And the message starts to attract messy people, sinners of all kinds, because that’s what happens when a message of grace is faithfully proclaimed. But the members aren’t really welcoming. They really treasure their own comfort. They value their preferences. They want their church to grow—until it does. And then it changes and change is disruptive, inconvenient. An “us vs. them” mentality creeps in, and eventually the new people start to creep away. Why?

The message of grace requires a culture of grace to make it look credible. In other words, you can un-say with your life what you’re saying with your mouth.

Tim Keller talks about what happens when the gospel is on audio but the world is on video. It is hard for the message to compete if everything around us is screaming the exact opposite.

So how about you? Is your gospel credible? Do you talk a big game about it but treat others like that’s all it is—a game?

Does your gospel sound like an urban legend? Something you like to repeat but doesn’t quite sound true? Is it just a curiosity to you, a message of interest but not of impact?

Would those you’re in relationship with struggle to believe the good news of grace because of the way you treat them? Do you make grace look true with your life? Or do you give your kids, your spouse, your brothers and sisters at church, your lost neighbors and co-workers reasons to doubt this message?

Do you tempt people to disbelieve with your posture what you tell them to believe with your mouth? A message of grace without a manner of grace is a message disbelieved.