For the Church

The Hierarchy of Self: From Alteration to Something New Altogether

There is a famous thought experiment suggested by Heraclitus and Plato. It references the mythical king and founder of Athens, Theseus, and his ship, which the Athenian’s dutifully kept in seafaring condition. This Ship of Theseus paradox poses the questions: If every plank was systematically and eventually replaced with a new plank, is it the same ship, or an entirely new one? At what point have we moved from alteration to something new altogether?

In our modern quest for identity, whether we know it or not, we are inserting ourselves into this thought experiment. We wonder, if my interests, passions, gifts, body, or relationships change, am I still me? Our thought process leads us into such confusion we can come to believe we can lose ourselves if we are unable to pursue our long-held desires.

So, how do we solve the puzzle of identity over time and change? First, we stop operating from the materialist notion that we are only a physical being–we are not Theseus’ ship. We are physical beings, yes, but we are not only physical beings. Our physical reality is tied to a spiritual one. Secondly, we must stop trying to create our identity apart from the God who created us. We are humans, the imago dei, physical bodies with eternal souls. We are created as men and women, fallen, and offered redemption through Christ Jesus. We have an understanding of who we are then in a hierarchy of important factors. At the peak of this hierarchy are the necessary components that make us who we are, these necessary components are markers that are given to us by God and unchanging: we are created by God, in his image, we are redeemed through Christ, whether we are male or female. Much further down are the contingent factors, some of which are outside of our control, some that are chosen, but nonetheless these are subject to change or alteration.

Understanding this gives us fixed points of reality from which to navigate. We tend to put far too much emphasis on the lower level factors, and very little attention on those aspects of who we are that are of the most importance. We unnecessarily grapple with issues of identity because we have inverted these categories. At the peak of who we are is our union with Christ. If I am in Christ, that is the cornerstone of everything else about me.

There are many secondary realities that contribute to who I am. I am married, I have four children, I have brown hair, I enjoy reading and writing, and I am a member of a church in North Carolina. But these are all identity markers that are subject to change. I may move, my husband and children could die, my hair will gray, my eyes may be lost to glaucoma or my hands to arthritis–reading and writing may not always be how I occupy my time. Nonetheless, however these tertiary identity markers may change, I will still be in Christ. As I adjust within these shifting aspects of who I may be, the root of who I am is fixed. Recognizing these hierarchies of my identity is profoundly freeing.

Rightly ordering my identity this way makes it possible for me to experience any circumstance, and to meet challenges and the changes of time, without an existential crisis. I can simply and joyfully obey Christ’s call on my life. It means I am not subject to the finitude of my talents, rapidly decaying body, or my relationships. It means I am not a slave to my interests or desires, even the good ones. I do not have to lament over a sense of who I once was, because who I am is fixed, not in my circumstances, but in Christ.

As a result, I can throw myself fully into whatever calling God has placed upon my life in the moment he calls me. As a single woman, I could serve generously with all my time and effort in a myriad of ways. Instead of wringing my hands over my relational status, I simply and joyfully got to work using the time, resources, and gifts I had for the moment. As a married woman I don’t have to hold myself back in helping my husband build his career. I can manage our home, and be my husband’s wife, bringing him good and being the one in whom he has full confidence (Proverbs 31). As a mother I can throw myself fully into motherhood. I don’t have to be stingy as I spend my time, energy, and even my body, in service to my children. I don’t have to agonize over whether I will “lose myself” because the most important aspects of who I am cannot be lost. As a church member I don’t have to lament the lack of use of my gifts, or stress trying to discover them, and instead I can aim to be used wherever there are needs, trusting that the God in whom my identity lies, will provide the gifts for the commands he’s given. I cannot have an identity crisis when I keep firmly planted in the reality that I am in Christ, from whom neither height nor depth, nor anything else in creation, will be able to separate me (Romans 8:39).

In knowing this and resting in it, I can immerse myself in serving people, not based on my particular gifts, talents, or desires, but based on the needs that exist and the calling that’s been placed in front of me. I can be obedient to even the most challenging of Christ’s commands because I am glad to be conformed to his will. I can put to death sinful identity markers, and put on new ones that result through obedience as I seek to obey all that God commands. My passions may change, my talents may not be used as I expected, but in this way they are like planks on a ship, useful in their time, replaceable, changeable, decaying even. But the eternal reality of who I am rests firmly with the One who “emptied himself by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on the cross” (Philippians 2:7-8).

Episode 163: Ross Ferguson on His Story and Ministry in Scotland

By gsutton / Jun 8

On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson visits with Ross Ferguson, Midwestern Seminary student and former pastor from Scotland on the gospel story of his own life and ministry.

Seminary: An Unexpected Detour that Changed My Life

By gsutton / Jun 8

In the fall of 1996, I was a senior at the University of Alabama, and I was set to graduate the following May. I had a solid idea of what I was going to do after I graduated—that was, until two months before graduation. In March of 1997, I was making plans to attend law school and I had no idea what seminary was, much less any plans of going there. Then a weekend away at a college retreat spending time in the Word and submitting my next steps to the Lord changed everything!

Even though I had grown up in Southern Baptist churches my entire life, I had no idea what seminary was or anything about where they were located. I really did not know what being in ministry would even look like, but thankfully the Lord did.

My journey that began in the woods in north Alabama ended with me graduating from college and going to seminary. God had plans for life, and He put people in my life over the next year after graduation to confirm what I was thinking and feeling.

Fast forward to Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in the fall of 1998 where I began my seminary education. This was definitely an adventure for me. In a year’s time since graduating from the University of Alabama, I had served as a Children’s Ministry intern, participated in an international mission trip—which was the first time I had left the United States, and I packed everything I owned into a small U-Haul and drove to Texas. I left everything I was familiar with and knew no one in Fort Worth. I was starting my life over—new town, new church, new friends, and the start of a new journey studying counseling and religious education.

Seminary was both incredibly encouraging and challenging. God used my time in seminary to open my eyes to the many opportunities to serve Him but also to the beauty of the body of Christ in action. I met so many incredible people, some of whom I still keep in touch with today. When I graduated in 2001, there were many ways I had changed, as a believer, as a woman, as a counselor, and as an educator. Reflecting on my time in seminary, there are five things from the unexpected journey of seminary that changed my life.

1. I developed a deeper understanding and love for teaching and discipleship

I was blessed with God-gifted instructors during my time at seminary. They modeled a Christlikeness in their teaching and actions that I wanted to emulate. I learned how to teach and counsel with a biblical worldview. God used my time in seminary to show me my gifts where teaching is concerned and my love for all things education and learning. It has been over twenty years since I was at Southwestern, but I find the excitement of teaching that was spurred so many years ago is still present. In 2009, I rejoined the seminary community as a student in doctoral studies at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary earning a Doctorate in Education and now have joined the instructional faculty as an Assistant Professor of Christian Education.

2. I developed a love for the people of God and the story He tells through them

I met so many people from all walks of life while at seminary. There were women and men of all ages that had come to this one place to train for ministry and learn about serving God. I met deeply devoted followers who took time to pour into the people around them and share their experiences for the expressed purpose of bringing God glory. I grew up in a Christian home and in solid Baptist churches my entire life, but seeing God weave together this beautiful community of believers from all walks of life was an experience that taught me just how intricate and detailed God is in His design. Looking back, it was experiences like these that prepared me to be a pastor’s wife in the local church and to value the story that God tells through each one of us as we serve Him.

3. God created in me a deeper understanding of my calling as an individual and a sister in Christ

Seminary provided me an opportunity to explore what it means to be a counselor and a teacher. I had opportunities to serve as a counselor to women in crisis who had traumatic pasts. I had opportunities to absorb learning and teaching theory but also apply it and practice it. Through my classes and interactions with classmates and professors, I began to grasp a true sense of what it means to be in ministry serving the Lord whether it be as a volunteer, a women’s Bible study leader, or on staff at a church.

4. I understood the true meaning of bearing each other’s burdens

This was one of the greatest gifts that the Lord blessed me with during this time. Walking through life with fellow believers–the good, the bad, and the ugly. In my own time of need during my seminary studies, I had a close family member die. Within hours of his death, I was surrounded by prayer and support. It did not just come from my friends, but from my professors too. Taking exams early, being gone for an extended time during the week of the funeral was something I was worried about, and my mind was put at ease with words like “Don’t worry about that now,” “Take care of your family,” “Know that we are praying for you,” and “Take as much time as you need.” Those were words of comfort and a true exemplification of bearing one another’s burdens.

5. Lastly, there were numerous opportunities for authentic discipleship

Up to that point, I had not fully surrendered all my life to the Lord. This was the first time I was confronted with my own heart issues, and I felt utterly alone and desperate before the Lord, but in a good way. Through my course of study, my professors, my local church, and my community with other seminary students, the Lord honed my heart and mind to serve Him and to be more like Him.

I walked away from seminary a different person than when I entered. It was a time of brokenness, a time of encouragement, a time of discipleship, and some of my highest highs and lowest lows, but more than anything, each time I found myself sitting in a seminary classroom, it was an unexpected God detour that changed my life for the better.

Three Pursuits Better Than Being Right

By arodriguez / Jun 7

Having to be right all the time on every matter comes with a kind of burden that will often hinder our mission and witness. The need to be right all the time also silences fruitful dialogue across ethnic, cultural, and even generational bounds. Ultimately, in the name of being right catholicity takes a back seat. Of course, there are several first order doctrines that must be preserved and be the basis of our unity and fellowship with one another. These are doctrines that are as black and white as the words and pages in our Bibles (The virgin birth; the deity of Christ; the Triune nature of God; and the sanctity of human life) just to name a few.

But what about the gray? These spaces can be fertile soil to grow in fellowship and love for one another but often become the places we draw divisive lines and choose to make war against each other. And for what?

Nobody is going to get everything right all the time. As the church, our aim is not to be right on all things, in all the times. Rather, the Bible calls us to three pursuits of greater value.

Renewal

First, the Scriptures call for renewal (Romans 12:1), and that comes with rewiring the way we think about everything in life. This is a life-long process that involves learning and working out our salvation in a way that looks more like the image of the Son (Philippians 2:12). When the body of Christ begins to buy into labels and categories of thought produced by the media and culture and adopt them as theological dogmas, it stunts our growth “to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13). Labels, and the creeds that come with them, are another way of abandoning the pursuit of being transformed by the renewal of the mind. Labels have too long held the church captive by their vain philosophies and empty deceit (Colossians 2:8). Neither labels nor worldly ideologies require renewal or transformation. None of them require humility. And none of them bring life. They simply offer an unbalanced formula to conform to that creates a deeper divide within the church, as well as the culture at large.

We should embrace the possibility of being wrong and renewed rather than continue to pursue being “right” and wither away. We should embrace the doctrine of human fallibility not only in speech but in practice, as well. If the church is going to embrace renewal, we must embrace the truth that we, as fallible human beings, will be in constant need of a reformation and renewal by the Spirit and the word of God. Often, saying “I was wrong” is part of that process.

Reasonableness

Second, Scripture calls for reasonableness. Both James and the Apostle Paul call the churches to let their reasonableness be made known, and that the wisdom from above is both gentle and “open to reason.” (James 3:17; Philippians 4:5). Notice in both passages reasonableness is closely tied to gentleness. Oftentimes a commitment to being right all the time comes at a price, and that price is reasonableness and gentleness. Isolating ourselves in the echo chambers of voices who only say the things we want to hear and what we already believe to be true is the kind of environment where reasonableness inevitably dies. When any outside voice attempts to speak, it is considered foreign and threatening to the world that we have created and boxed ourselves into.

Living and camping out in our theological and political echo chambers causes our hearts and minds to become something different than what God has intended for His people. To borrow from C.S. Lewis, it will become, “safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will become unbreakable, impenetrable, and irredeemable.” This, of course, is in stark contrast to the heart being like a stream of water in the hand of the Lord (Proverbs 21:1).

Reconciliation

Finally, the Bible calls for reconciliation. First to God, and then to one another. “All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation.” (2 Corinthians 5:18) Paul is saying that reconciliation belongs to the church. Notice, “And gave us the ministry of reconciliation…” This is not an optional ministry but a task given by Christ to His church as part of fulfilling the great commission. To forsake the ministry of reconciliation that God has entrusted us is to bury the talent in the ground, only to return it to the Master on the last day the way he gave it to us, with no fruitful return (Matthew 25:24-25). There is no small need for this ministry today as our culture continues to splinter and fraction in a billion pieces.

People need to know that the gap they feel between a righteous God and the guilt of their conscience has been bridged by the wood and nails that held Jesus down, and an empty tomb that could not contain him. Jesus himself made a way for us to not only get God but to also get along with each other. More than that, He made a way for us to grow with one another so that each member of the body of Christ looks less like each other and more like the Savior. For brothers to dwell in unity, despite differences in non-essential matters.

At the end of the day, I don’t want to be right as much as I want to be renewed, and renewal often comes from the Spirit of God showing us where we were wrong. I don’t want to be known for being right as much as I want to be known for being reasonable and gentle. I don’t want to pursue “rightness” as much as I want to pursue reconciliation and righteousness. Being right, in a human way, is often antithetical to the gospel of salvation which begins with a repentance that says, “I was wrong.”

Pastor, Jesus Doesn’t Care How Big Your Church Is

By Jared Wilson / Jun 6

The music thudded in my ears as I crouched in the church foyer, begging God to send just one family through the doors. This had become my Sunday routine. Our church plant wasn’t very well-established, but we had all the elements people said we needed for church growth—a cool name, a cool band, and a core of cool young people. But people stayed away in droves. And Sunday after Sunday, it became a kind of crisis of faith for me to endure another paltry turnout.

I knew how to talk a big game about pastoring who you’ve got, about not entrusting church growth to production gimmicks and pragmatic methods. But it still hurt that the Lord had not rewarded our faithfulness with success.

Or had he?

Fifteen years later, I’ve learned a lot more about the experience of church growth. I took that same shaky faith in the biblical conviction about “how to do church” into a pastorate in New England—into the least-churched state in the nation, in fact, where thousands and thousands of people stay away in droves from church, generally. In a context where cultural Christianity was not a factor, where people were largely ambivalent about Christianity (if not openly hostile), and in a church where we emphatically did not have the elements the experts said we must to grow a church, the Lord started sending many through our door.

Our building was the quintessential New England white-steepled church on the town green. The average age of our worship band was early sixties. We had an old pipe organ—and we used it to sing old hymns. When I got to this church, we didn’t have very many people and we had almost no young people at all. Our service was nearly two hours long. I preached expositional messages through books of the Bible. And people came. And kept coming. Our attendance increased steadily, we ran out of seats and parking spaces regularly, baptism numbers increased each year, our membership ranks grew.

But I never forgot those days in the foyer of the church plant, begging God to send just one or two more our way. I had learned a valuable lesson in the hard days of lack that helped me tremendously in the joyful days of gain—namely, that Christ isn’t really interested in how big my church is.

Aim for Faithfulness

You wouldn’t get that impression from the gurus of church growth, where faithfulness both equals and is proven by visible success. If your church is swelling in numbers, it is seen as verifiable proof you are doing something right. And, of course, we’ve also seen the depressing downside to this logic, as abusive and other disqualified leaders often maintain their positions because of the “proof” of their success. But I had to learn early not to tune my heart to the rise or fall of church metrics.

First of all, I simply couldn’t see that emphasis in the Bible. Sure, there are plenty of times God’s servants counted. They counted how many were added to the number of Christ-followers, they counted how many witnessed Christ’s preaching, etc. This tells me there’s nothing wrong with counting, and it tells me, in fact, that counting can tell me important things. But it can’t tell me the most important things. As Paul and the other apostles are instructing the churches and her leaders through their letters, we never find any approximation of the question, “How many are you running?” They seem entirely disinterested in it.

Secondly, the testimony of the Scriptures seems to be predicated on the idea that, while Christians are to remain faithful in evangelism specifically and the mission of God generally, the church is designed to exist as a kind of minority presence in the world. We should expect not to be popular.

Of course, some churches are more popular than others. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with a big church. You and I have likely both met faithful megachurch pastors in our lives, as well as faithless small church pastors. The point is this: size isn’t a reliable predictor of faithfulness, and it doesn’t work either way we want to run the logic—either against smallness or bigness.

No, what the Lord requires of us is faithfulness. And while it’s perfectly normal for every pastor to want his church to grow (again, don’t buy into the idea that either bigness or smallness proves faithfulness in themselves) it’s also idolatrous to marry our validation, our justification, our sense of okayness to our attendance, budget, or platform. This is a losing game.

Christ’s Unchanging Favor

As our New England church grew, many churches around us did not. We had all the visible markers of success that normal leaders want. And I got a lot of pats on the back for it. I got taken to a fair number of meetings where other pastors over coffee would ask me about my methods. They were usually disappointed in my answer because I said we just tried to remain faithful to preach the gospel, love each other, and love our neighbors. We did some outreach stuff, sure, and we did some evangelism training. But we weren’t following any of the church growth recipes for increase. We were planting and watering and trusting God to bring the growth . . . or not to.

While I enjoyed the growth and wanted my church to enjoy the growth, I tried (imperfectly, of course) not to take credit. My previous church plant experience also taught me this lesson: the extent to which you give me the credit for the growth is the extent to which you’ll give me the blame for lack of growth. Christ isn’t calling us to grow his church. He will do that. He is calling us to be faithful.

When you get to the end of your race, you will not be judged on how many people you shepherded. You will have to give an account for how you shepherded, of course—but not how many.

As you toil and trust, you can learn to cast this earthly care onto him. He can be trusted with the attendance of your church. He can be trusted with the limits of your personal leadership. He can be trusted with what he has entrusted to you. If you pastor long enough, you will likely see seasons of both waxing and waning numbers. You will have ministry periods that are full and some that are lean. That’s just the course of normal life. It will help your sanity—and your endurance!—if you will tune your affections not to “how the church is going” but to the unshakable foundation and irrevocable love of Christ the King. His favor toward a sinner like you cannot wax and wane. It is always full to overflowing.

Don’t get me wrong—Jesus is very interested in growing his kingdom. He will see without a doubt that his plan for the spread of the gospel and the expansion of his glory into every nook and cranny of creation will be fulfilled. And this might mean the growth of your church. But it might not. The question is: Can you be okay with that? Jesus is.

Episode 162: FTC Mailbag – Part 2

By gsutton / Jun 1

On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson responds to listener-submitted topics from Facebook, including Christ-centered Bible commentaries, older pastors in seminary, tips for young senior pastors, and how pastors in this unique ministry season can find encouragement.

I’m a Stay-at-Home Mom and I Decided to Go to Seminary

By gsutton / Jun 1

In the Fall of 2019, I started discussing with my new husband the prospect of attending seminary. I had been in pursuit of theological education since the time I came to Christ but I was eager for something more. I wanted the intensity and academic rigor of a Masters of Divinity program. At the time, I was not pregnant. In the Lord’s providence, just a few months later, I was pregnant with our first child and accepted into the online Master of Divinity program at Midwestern Seminary.

When pursuing any higher education, the question most people ask is, “What are you going to do with your degree?” Although I do have dreams and goals for continued education, writing, and teaching, my primary reason for going to seminary was not rooted in a career path. In fact, just before the birth of our baby, I quit my full time job to be a stay-at-home mom.

What good is a seminary degree for a mom? In answering that question, I have five reasons why I decided to go to seminary.

1. So that God’s Word would be at work in me (Isaiah 55:11)

Now let’s be clear, you do not need a seminary degree for God’s Word to be at work in you. But for me, God’s work in my life looked like a trajectory headed straight for formal theological training.

When my husband and I prayed over and discussed this decision, we came to the conclusion that even if I never made a dollar from this education, the goodness that it should produce in me would be enough for us. In earnest pursuit of understanding and loving God’s Word, what I learned would not return void. We knew that a deeper knowledge of Scripture, through the power of the Spirit, would cultivate in me a Christlikeness that made me a better wife, mother, church member, and Christian.

Our hope was that through the labor of schooling, I would become a more equipped discipler of my children and a more gracious and godly woman. Seminary was worth it for our family because my husband trusted that studying God’s Word would help me grow in maturity and wisdom that was rooted in Christ.

2. Because the calling was affirmed by church leadership

When I started seminary, I had been faithful to attend and volunteer at every theological training option available in my local church. I was committed to our body (still am!) and our leadership knew me well. They were capable of making a wise judgment about my desire to attend seminary because they had taught me themselves. They had also seen me serve our body through teaching and volunteering. Your pastors may not always be well acquainted with your academic abilities, but they should be acquainted with your character and service. Thankfully, my leadership was well aware of all three. When I came to them with the desire, they were able to counsel me in the right direction. Their encouragement helped me know that the pursuit of continued education would prove beneficial and edifying.

3. For the purpose of serving my church body (1 Corinthians 14:12)

I love to teach. Specifically, I love to teach Scripture. I remember when I first came to know Christ, I would do a study with my pastor’s wife on Wednesday and teach it to a Bible study group with my volleyball team on Thursday. That may not be the best method for well equipped teachers, but it does attest to my love for learning and teaching God’s Word.

As I’ve grown in my faith, that gifting has been affirmed and I’ve had the privilege of teaching in more formal capacities within our church body. My love for and desire to teach was quickly followed by feelings of biblical responsibility. I understand the need to teach the Word correctly (2 Timothy 2:15). Because of my desire to honor Christ through rightly handling the word of truth, seminary seemed like the most logical and fruitful next step in my education. Although my role in our church may never be lucrative financially, it is a privilege to serve our church body and to be fully equipped to teach and disciple those God has entrusted to me. This is not to say we cannot serve our church without a seminary degree — that’s definitely not true! Scripture calls us to serve no matter our gifting (1 Corinthians 14:12). For me, pursuing seminary was a choice made to bolster my ability to teach and disciple in the respective roles God has given me.

4. To pave the way for other women in my sphere of influence

At the time I was considering applying for seminary, I knew one other woman who was pursuing a Master of Divinity degree. She lives a thousand miles from me. She is a champion of women’s formal theological education and she helped show me that it was possible and fruitful for a woman to pursue a seminary degree. I recognized that there may be women for whom I could be that way-maker.

I want those around me to have a theology of women in the church that is robust, while operating within God’s given standards. That may look like a seminary education for some of the women around me. I wanted to go before the women God has placed in my life and show them that there is a place for women to be formally theologically educated and that they too can properly exposit God’s Word. Since starting the program, this ideal has proven to be true! Someone has to go first. In my church, that person is me.

5. Because I love to learn about Scripture

Seminary was the next step for me because I love to learn. Biblical theology has been a point of excitement, rejuvenation, and joy in my life since very early in my Christian walk. We would finish classes at my church and I would be desperate for more. I loved the idea of being challenged to handle difficult passages and learn about church history.

For me, seminary just made sense. This point has proven to be so true. I love seminary. I miss it when we have breaks. I am energized and excited by what I’m learning every week. I love the flexibility provided by the online program which allows me to take time off when I give birth or for other familial needs. I love it! I am a stay at home. I am also a full-time seminary student. It has been a special gift and privilege for me.

These five reasons for applying for seminary are not the only things to consider when making that decision (finances, time constraints, other responsibilities), but these five reasons are why we said yes. The fruit speaks for itself. It has been exponentially worth it for us! If you’re considering applying for seminary, I am the first to say that women should be formally theologically educated. Maybe seminary is a pursuit for you, too.

For more information about Midwestern Seminary’s Master of Divinity program and other masters studies (online or on campus), visit www.mbts.edu/degrees/masters-studies.

The Christian’s Confidence in Christ’s Compassion

By arodriguez / May 31

Throughout the four Gospels, readers are flooded with examples of the compassion of Christ. In His miracles, Christ shows His compassion by giving sight to the blind, making the lame walk, and curing people with extreme sickness. In His parables, He consistently shows that God’s heart is geared toward compassion and His desire is for His followers to be similarly compassionate.

However, the greatest example of the compassion of the Messiah came at the end of His earthly ministry. Christ’s sacrificial death on the cross for sinners is the culmination of His compassion, an action that allows Christians to be confident in their standing before God.

Contributing to Christ’s Death

Isaiah 53 provides a picture of the greatness of Christ’s compassion. The first half of verse 3 says, “He was despised and forsaken of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” God came to the earth as man, and men rejected Him.

At first reading, this verse appears to speak of the men that were physically present during the crucifixion, or possibly more broadly this verse appears to apply to the Jews of the day. However, Isaiah, writing at least 600 years before the life of Christ, says at the end of the verse, “He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.” Why would Isaiah include himself with those who offended Christ?

Isaiah included himself as an offender of Christ because he, just like the rest of mankind, had sinned against God throughout his life. In chapter 6, he makes this claim: “Woe is me, for I am ruined! Because I am a man of unclean lips, And I live among a people of unclean lips; For my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts” (Isaiah 6:5)

We cannot read Isaiah 53:3 and claim that the context exempts us from including ourselves. While Isaiah was not present during the crucifixion, he included himself as an offender of the Holy God. Similarly, when we read Isaiah 53 ought to include ourselves as offenders. We participated in the death of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Compassion in the Atonement

But then verse 5 of Isaiah 53 describes the compassion of the One whom we offended. “But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed.”

Isaiah not only says that we are included with those who offended Christ, but he also tells us that through His death, we are healed. Not only do we sing “It was my sin that held Him there, Until it was accomplished”. We can also sing immediately afterward “His dying breath has brought me life, I know that it is finished.”

Penal Substitutionary Atonement is not simply a weighty theological concept, it is a phrase that describes the beautiful compassion of God. Moved with compassion, God took on flesh to save sinners (1 Timothy 1:15). He died a sacrificial death in the place of man so that we could be saved. To die for someone who never wronged you is considered a great sign of compassion. But Christ’s sacrificial death for those that sinned against Him is the ultimate display of compassion.

Confidence in Compassion

Understanding this compassion ought to change our lives! Unlike Adam and Eve in the Garden, Christians do not need to hide from God. Despite their sin, they can boldly approach God because they trust in His compassion.

In Psalm 51 a repentant David cries out to God for forgiveness. Throughout this Psalm, it is clear that David understood that God is One who freely offers compassion. In the opening verse he says:

“Be gracious to me, O God, according to Your lovingkindness; according to the greatness of Your compassion blot out my transgressions.” (Psalm 51:1).

After committing adultery and murder, David did not ask God to consider blotting out his transgressions. Instead, David confidently approaches God and tells Him to remove his sin. David was not attempting to control God and demand that He do something. No, David had spent countless hours with God, he knew the Scriptures, and he understood that God was great in compassion. He was confident that God was compassionate to those who turn to Him in faith.

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9

We are not told to ask God for forgiveness. There is no time for deliberation where God ponders over whether or not to forgive us. Scripture is clear, true confession will always result in God’s gracious compassion.

Through Christ’s substitutionary death, Christians have “the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21) and can approach Him with confidence as a result. Since, as the Westminster Confession of Faith summarizes, “there is no sin so great that it can bring damnation upon those who truly repent” (WCF 15.4), no matter the sin, Christians can always approach God with confidence in His compassion.

When we confess our transgressions, we can trust that in God’s compassion He will forgive us.

With Us Now and til the End

By gsutton / May 30

“And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” – Matthew 28:20

Do you believe Jesus is with you? Or is he standing off in the heavens, waiting to join the glorified you at the end of the age?

“I am with you,” he said.

This promise comes at the end of the Christian’s high calling. We are to “go therefore and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19). But as you and I well know, the going can get tough.

Do you believe that you are called by the Great Commission to reach all people for the love of Christ, but his love will not always reach you where you are?

He is With Us in Our Suffering

Does he recoil from the wounds of disappointment, betrayal, or persecution? Are there gashes too deep for him to stomach? Didn’t he say he came to earth to heal those who need healing—not those who are already well (Matthew 9:12)? The patients, nor the pharisees’ scorn, kept the Great Physician in heaven. He came to them, and he will come to you.

Our pain can paint our sufferings as worse than the Son of God’s disappointment in his inattentive followers (Mark 14:37), betrayal by his his own people (Matthew 26:14-15), and persecution on a cross. Though we can be wounded (and many of us are, in countless different ways), we will not be pierced for the world’s transgressions or crushed by our own iniquities because Christ experienced that pain for us (Isaiah 53:5). Though we will never undergo Christ’s substitutionary suffering, we share in his suffering as we become like him and are rejected as he was rejected (Philippians 3:10; Galatians 6:17; John 15:20).

As we become like him in this way, the Wounded One is not a hypocrite, misunderstanding and distant from the wounded you. The tragic stories of how we are treated are not too ugly for the crucified Savior to handle. He is still with you.

He is With Us in Our Sin

But are our sins too ugly for him to handle? As we fulfill the Great Commission, our mission can be twisted by people-pleasing, fame-seeking. The spotlight of Christian leadership shines on our all-too-well-known inadequacies (no matter how high or low the position). We can falter in false humility, seeking praise for our apologies rather than God’s glory in our weakness; or we hide our failures and shortcomings to put people’s eyes on our greatest selves, rather than the great God working in us; or our hurt can platform our ministry on selfish vendettas more than holy compassion. There is no end to the ways personal sins can subtly or not-so-subtly interlace one’s ministry.

This requires the caveat that disciples and disciple-makers will be judged by their fruit. Jesus taught us that wolves in sheep’s clothing will be “cut down and thrown into the fire” (Matthew 7:19). Not everyone who serves in the name of Christ will see him (Matthew 7:21). For those who bear bad fruit, Christ will not be with them, but cast them out of his kingdom in the end.

And yet, not everyone who sins will be cast out. Those who recognize their sin identify with the truth. To say, “we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8). In Luke’s parable, the pharisee in the temple presented to God a list of reasons why he should be justified, while the tax collector stood “far off” and could only utter: “Lord have mercy!” (Luke 18:9-14). We are told the latter went away justified, rather than the former (Luke 18:14). The tax collector knew his sin and the Lord gave him mercy.

Repentance is the fruit of faithful ministry, but it inevitably exposes our sin. Nevertheless, we are grafted into the Lord’s righteousness instead of uprooted from it. The roots of his mercy are deep enough to grow us still. As Dane Ortlund explains in his book, Gentle and Lowly:

“Every human friend as a limit. If we offend enough, if a relationship gets damaged enough, if we betray enough times, we are cast out. The walls go up. With Christ, our sins and weaknesses are the very resumé items that qualify us to approach him. Nothing but coming to him is required—first at conversion and a thousand times thereafter until we are with him upon death.”[1]

He is with you.

He is Always with Us

Feeling alone is an occupational hazard that comes with being human, but being alone is something the Christian can never be.

In our own wisdom, it makes sense to recoil at adversity. When things get hard and life looks miserable, we expect some to step back and take a break from us. And when we realize our actions and motives are less than pristine, we think no one will approach us until we present ourselves clean. As Bavinck recognizes:

“It is human beings who have pronounced the harshest and most severe judgment on themselves. It is always better to fall into the hands of the Lord than into those of people, for his mercy is great. For when God condemns us, he at the same time offers his forgiving love in Christ, but when people condemn people, they frequently cast them out and make them the object of scorn.”[2]

It is not so with the Lord. Others may cast us out, but he will draw near (John 6:37). Though we judge ourselves as too far gone, he himself chooses what is weak to shame the strong, so no one may boast (1 Corinthians 1:27).

Wherever we go for the Great Commission, toward mistreatment or mistakes or sorrow, we will never be alone. It is promised: he is with us now and til the end.

[1] Dane Ortlund, Gentle and Lowly: The Heart of Christ for Sinners and Sufferers (Wheaton: Crossway, 2020), 64.

[2] Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics: Abridged in One Volume, ed. James Bolt (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011), 368.

Jared Bumpers on Pastors and Systematic Theology

By gsutton / May 27

Why should pastors care about systematic theology?