The Best Generosity Story Ever

I don’t think that this will be a huge shock to you, but human beings aren’t naturally generous. If sin causes us to live for ourselves, and it does, then one result of this obsessive self-focus is the effect it has on the way we think about and use our money. For most of us, the thing that drives the vast majority of our joys and sorrows when it comes to money is what it’s doing or not doing for us.

When we think of money, we tend to think first of ourselves: what do I need, what do I want, what dream can this money finance, what would I like to do that I have never done before, etc. I am not suggesting that we are never generous but that, for most of us, when it comes to money, generosity is a snapshot in a long video of self-interest.

A STORY OF GENEROSITY

But the biblical story is a generosity story. No words capture the essence of this story better than these: “For God so loved the world, that he gave . . .” (John 3:16). Having money in the proper place in your heart and life is not just about good budgeting and freedom from debt; the biblical standard is much higher. You know you have money in the right place in your heart when the culture of acquisition has been replaced in your heart with a culture of generosity, where joy in giving overwhelms joy in getting. Could it be that the primary purpose for money in your life is not that you would live but that, as God has lavishly done in your life, you would give? Could it be that we need something fundamentally deeper than a commitment to a good budget and reasonable spending? Could it be that what we really need is a brand-new understanding of the purpose for money, one driven by the gospel story?

Let’s unpack the generosity story, which runs throughout the main body of Scripture. It really is true that the narrative in the Bible is a story of God’s giving, giving, and giving again. If you read your Bible through the lens of generosity, you will be blown away by how lavishly generous your Lord is.

THE GENEROSITY OF CREATION

How can you even summarize the incredible gift of the physical creation? Whether it is the beauty of a sunset; the design of animals of every color, shape and size; the beauty of a single flower, we have been blessed way beyond our ability to recount.

In creating the world, God created a means by which we would be aware of him and learn things about him. One of the most precious things about the gift of creation is that it was purposefully designed to reveal the most important thing ever—the existence and character of God. Creation is the generosity of God on physical display for all to see.

THE GENEROSITY OF THE COVENANT

Hear these amazing words that God spoke to Abraham: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Gen. 12:2–3). This covenant confounds the normal way we think of things. It confronts us with the fact that God makes covenant with us, with all of those glorious promises, not because of what is in us but because of what is in him.

Thus it is with generosity. Generosity is the result not of the good in the one receiving but in the good-heartedness of the one giving. His response to wayward, idolatrous human beings is to lavish the blessings of his presence and promises on them, blessings and promises that not one of them would ever have the ability to earn. God’s covenant blessings and promises are his generosity on display.

THE GENEROSITY OF FREEDOM FROM SLAVERY

It’s the loving generosity of God that would cause him to raise up Moses and harness the forces of creation to be faithful to the promises that he made to Abraham and his descendants. Whereas our generosity is fickle and often failing, but not the Lord’s. His generosity is faithful and perseverative, so he never ever forgets, fails, or turns his back on anything he has promised. With a generous and faithful heart, the Lord unleashed his almighty power in a display like the world had never seen before and rescued his children from captivity, defeating the feared army of Pharaoh on the way. Because God makes generous promises, he is generous in the use of his power to fulfill those promises.

THE GENEROSITY OF THE CROSS AND FORGIVING GRACE

This really is the ultimate definition of generosity. There is nothing that could compete with Christ’s willingness to suffer injustice, torture, and death for us. What could be more generous than for a perfect man to be willing to bear the penalty of people who ignore his presence, steal his glory, and rebel against his divine authority? But Jesus wasn’t just willing; he found joy in doing so. So it is with generosity, which is never begrudging, never forced, and motivated more by joy than by duty.

THE GENEROSITY OF ETERNITY

Not only does God generously bless us with spiritual riches in the here and now, but he invites us to an eternity that is rich beyond our imagination. In generous love, he opens to us the doors of the new heavens and the new earth, where sin, suffering, and sorrow will be no more, and we will live in peace and harmony with him and one another forever without end.

It really is true that the great redemptive narrative is itself the world’s best and most important generosity story. This means that your hope in life and death rests on the fact that your Lord is a bountifully generous King, who sent his Son to set up a kingdom marked by its generosity of love, grace, forgiveness, daily mercy, and the faithful supply of all we need. So when he invites and calls us to seek his kingdom rather than work to store up physical earthly treasures, he is calling us not just to value spiritual things more than we value earthly things, but to be part of his generosity mission on earth. So much of the way sincere Christians look at money, finances, and budgeting seems to miss this gospel theology of generosity.

THE GOSPEL OF GENEROSITY

Without this gospel theology of generosity, discussions of money become about how to steward what God has given you, how to keep out of debt, how to fulfill your contracted financial obligations, how to have financial stability, how to anticipate your financial needs upon retirement, and how to ensure that you give God a tithe. None of these things is wrong, and all of them are helpful in some way, but the whole plan is devoid of the larger considerations of the call to be God’s ambassadors on earth. The normal plan is functionally devoid of gospel perspective and vision, and because it is, it focuses money and finances on personal need rather than on God’s grand gospel agenda.

Could it be that when it comes to finances, we have the whole thing upside down? When we think of money, we tend to think of it as God’s primary means of providing for us and, oh, yes, he has called us to give. Could it be that Scripture teaches that God’s primary purpose for money is that we would be tools of his generosity mission on earth, and, oh, yes, he also uses it to daily provide for us? Matthew 6:19–34 sets up a clear contrast between storing earthly treasures while obsessing about personal needs and seeking God’s kingdom. Jesus teaches that financial sanity begins with believing that you really do have a heavenly Father who will supply what you need. The radical message of Jesus is that that burden is his and not ours.

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Content taken from Redeeming Money: How God Reveals and Reorients Our Hearts by Paul David Tripp, ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

Paul David Tripp is the president of Paul Tripp Ministries, a nonprofit organization. He has been married for many years to Luella and they have four grown children. For more information and resources visit paultrippministries.org.

Want to Know God's Will for Your Life? Start With This Question

If you’ve ever said, “I just want to know God’s will for my life,” this book is for you. If you’ve ever gazed at the trajectory of your life and wondered if you were headed down the right path or off a cliff, keep reading. By the time you finish these pages, I hope you will never have to question what God’s will is for you again. Or, at least, not the way you may have asked it in the past.

It’s a uniquely Christian musing, this question of God’s will. Those who have never called on the name of Jesus Christ are not the least concerned with discovering its answer. It reveals a believer’s awareness that, to be a follower of Christ, not every option is open to me: whatever the way forward, it is not wide but narrow. God has a will for my life, and based on my unsuccessful history of trying to follow the way that seems right unto man, I had better do my best to discern what that will is.

THE PROBLEM WITH ALWAYS WANTING TO KNOW GOD'S WILL FOR YOUR LIFE

But that discernment piece is tricky. When we reflect on what our lives were like apart from Christ, we tend to focus on the poor decisions we made and their ensuing consequences. How we spent our time, our money, and our efforts plays before us like a blooper reel, but instead of making us laugh it forces us to whisper, “Never again.” Before we believed, we did what felt right or what seemed rational to our darkened minds. But now we know our feelings deceive us and our self-serving logic betrays us. No worries, though. Now we have a direct line to God. We’ll just ask him what we should do.

Without meaning to, we can begin to regard our relationship with God primarily as a means toward better decision-making. We can slip into a conception of God as a cosmic Dear Abby, a benevolent advice columnist who fields our toughest questions about relationships and circumstances. Because we do not trust our judgment, we ask him who we should marry or which job we should take. We ask him where to spend our money or which neighborhood to move into. “What should I do next? Keep me away from the cliff, Lord. Keep me on the narrow path.”

These are not terrible kinds of questions to ask God. To some extent, they demonstrate a desire to answer the question “What is God’s will for my life?” They show a commendable desire to honor God in our daily doings. But they don’t get to the heart of what it means to follow God’s will for our lives. If we want our lives to align with God’s will, we will need to ask a better question than “What should I do?”

A BETTER QUESTION TO HELP YOU DISCOVER GOD'S WILL

We Christians tend to pool our concern around the decisions we face. If I pick A when I should have picked B, then all is lost. If I pick B, all will be well. But if Scripture teaches us anything, it is this: God is always more concerned with the decision-maker than he is with the decision itself. Take, for example, Simon Peter. When faced with decision A (deny Christ) or decision B (acknowledge him), Peter failed famously. But it is not his poor decision-making that defines him. Rather, it is the faithfulness of God to restore him. Peter’s story serves to remind us that, no matter the quality of our choices, all is never lost.

This makes sense when we pause to consider that no decision we could ever make could separate us from the love of God in Christ. God can use the outcome of any decision for his glory and for our good. That is reassuring. Peter was faced with two choices—one of which was clearly unwise. But often we must choose between two options that appear either equally wise or equally unwise. Often the answer to the question “What should I do?” could go either way.

Which brings us to the better question. For the believer wanting to know God’s will for her life, the first question to pose is not “What should I do?” but “Who should I be?”

Perhaps you’ve tried to use the Bible to answer the question “What should I do?” Facing a difficult decision, perhaps you’ve meditated for hours on a psalm or a story in the Gospels, asking God to show you how it speaks to your current dilemma. Perhaps you’ve known the frustration of hearing silence, or worse, of acting on a hunch or “leading” only to find later that you apparently had not heard the Lord’s will. I know that process better than I’d like to admit, and I also know the shame that accompanies it—the sense that I’m tone-deaf to the Holy Spirit, that I’m terrible at discovering God’s will.

But God does not hide his will from his children. As an earthly parent, I do not tell my kids, “There is a way to please me. Let’s see if you can figure out what it is.” If I do not conceal my will from my earthly children, how much more our heavenly Father? His will does not need discovering. It is in plain sight. To see it we need to start asking the question that deals with his primary concern. We need to ask, “Who should I be?”

THE ORDER MATTERS

Of course, the questions “What should I do?” and “Who should I be?” are not unrelated. But the order in which we ask them matters. If we focus on our actions without addressing our hearts, we may end up merely as better behaved lovers of self.

Think about it. What good is it for me to choose the right job if I’m still consumed with selfishness? What good is it for me to choose the right home or spouse if I’m still eaten up with covetousness? What does it profit me to make the right choice if I’m still the wrong person? A lost person can make “good choices.” But only a person indwelt by the Holy Spirit can make a good choice for the purpose of glorifying God.

The hope of the gospel in our sanctification is not simply that we would make better choices, but that we would become better people. This is the hope that caused John Newton to pen, “I once was lost but now am found, was blind, but now I see.” It is what inspires the apostle Paul to speak of believers “being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor. 3:18). The gospel teaches us that the grace that is ours through Christ is, by the work of the Spirit, transforming us increasingly into someone better.

But not just anyone better. The gospel begins transforming us into who we should have been. It re-images us. Want to know what it should have been like to be human? Look to the only human who never sinned.

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Content taken from In His Image: 10 Ways God Calls Us to Reflect His Character by Jen Wilkin, ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

Jen Wilkin is a speaker, writer, and teacher of women’s Bible studies. During her seventeen years of teaching, she has organized and led studies for women in home, church, and parachurch contexts. Jen and her family are members of the Village Church in Flower Mound, Texas.

Why Gospel-Centered Community is Key to Reaching Millennials

In March 2017, PBS NewsHour interviewed Casper ter Kuile, an irreligious researcher from Harvard Divinity School about how Millennials are interested in spiritual matters, but not in traditional religious community settings. Casper says that Millennials are disregarding traditional religious congregations because they “don’t appeal to him,” and that he’s not alone—a high percentage of Millennials are doing the same. Casper says that he has found “countless examples” of Millennials finding new ways to create community that fulfill the same functions a religious community has, but without the religion. Some examples he lists are CrossFit, Afro Flow Yoga, and simply sharing a meal together. He says, “You may dismiss these communities as simple entertainment, but we’re convinced that this is the new face of religious life in America.” Casper’s right. His equation of a local church and CrossFit or yoga is unfortunate and inaccurate from our evangelical perspective, but in the eyes of many Millennials, finding community in a Sunday morning “Afro Flow Yoga” class is not really all that different from finding community in a local evangelical church—in fact, from their perspective, it’s better because their yoga friends don’t judge people like they believe a local evangelical church or other religious community would.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN COMMUNITY AND GOSPEL-CENTERED COMMUNITY

For many Millennials, community alone, even if that community is built upon the superficial foundations of workouts or meals, is what provides the transcendent experience their souls so desperately seek.

For many Millennials, the community is the end in itself. The feeling of “belonging to something greater” is simply derived from hanging out with more than one person. “Greater” is almost used as a quantitative term, not a qualitative one. Even at it’s best, non-Christian Millennial community does community service work that might be “something greater” but is ultimately temporary.

For Christians, community is not the end itself. The feeling of “belonging to something greater” is actually derived from belonging to something greater, something better, something eternal. Unfortunately, what irreligious Millennials do not understand is that communities built around yoga mats or dinner tables cannot parallel Christian communities because, while they may look similar, their foundations are different—their reasons for meeting are different.

The foundation for an irreligious Millennial community is the shared interests in food or workout regimen. The foundation of an evangelical Millennial community is the gospel of Jesus Christ, and this community simply works itself out around dinner tables or church buildings. Millennials have their problems, and it’s fair to call them out on those. But when it comes to how they want to do church, Millennials’ preferences align with much of what we see in the New Testament. Just two examples are Acts 2 and Galatians 6. In both chapters, the local church functions more like a loving family than a rigid institution. Acts 2 shows us what it looks like when a church is drawn to repentance and generous giving so that the church might be unified in its pursuit of Jesus. Galatians 6 encourages Christians to bear one another’s burdens and to persist in doing good for the benefit of those who are in the faith.

So what does gospel-centered community look like? Gospel-centered community is built on the gospel (duh), but the gospel is a complex reality that has multiple facets and countless implications.

2 FOUNDATIONS OF GOSPEL-CENTERED COMMUNITY

First, gospel-centered community is built on sacrifice. The heart of the gospel is sacrifice. The good news is that Christ gave himself up for the sins of the world. Jesus Christ lived the perfect life we can’t live and died the horrible death we should have died so that, by his sacrifice, we can live with God forever. What does this sacrifice look in our church community, though? Does it mean we should be giving our lives for people? Possibly, but obviously that’s not very common.

Gospel-centered community requires us to sacrifice our time, our money, our emotions, our homes, our hobbies, and a host of other things we might rather keep to ourselves.

Gospel-centered community looks like sacrificing your time on a Saturday to help someone in your small group move, taking up money to help pay for a car for a single mother in the church, or hosting a missionary on furlough for a couple of months. All of this sounds uncomfortable, and that’s because gospel-centered community does not make comfort a high priority. Gospel-centered community, being built on the gospel, is characterized by the sacrificial love that members of the community have for one another, not by the toleration of selfishly maintaining personal comfort.

Gospel-centered community is not natural for many of us because our sinful hearts prevent us from wanting to care about others more than ourselves. We must rely on the sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit to empower us to maintain the selfless, sacrificial love for others that gospel-centered community requires. This is no easy feat, and it requires much prayer.

Second, gospel-centered community is built on unconditional love. Next to sacrifice, nothing is more central to the gospel than love. Really, they are quite related. The unconditional love of God is what ultimately led him to sacrifice his Son to pay for the sins of the world. This love is unconditional because it is not based upon who we are or what we do. In the same way, as we think about gospel-centered community and what it might look like in our churches, gospel-centered community does not love conditionally. Our love for those in our church or in our small group must not be based upon what others can do for us. Our love for those in our church or small group must be based upon what Christ has done for us and for them. This sort of unconditional love means we cannot be content with each other discovering our “own truth” or doing whatever we think may be right. This sort of unconditional love requires us to spur one another on to holiness (Hebrews 10:24). We must love one another so deeply that we grieve when we see a brother or sister in Christ run astray the gospel.

It’s pretty clear how we show this love to others: we love people no matter who they are or how they might be different from us. Furthermore, unconditional love must withstand disputes and fights within the church community. The church is made up of a bunch of sinners, and the sin that involuntarily oozes out of our mouths and our hands will inevitably burn others like a sort of radioactive acid. When such filth and pain accompanies Christian community, the temptation is to bail on the local church. We must not do this.

Christ died on the cross for the people spitting at him and the people praying for him. We ought to love our community enough to endure the sins of the community. Christ loved us enough to save us from our sin by dying on a cross constructed in sin. We ought to love each other enough to forgive and love as he has.

If we are to benefit from the sacrificial love of gospel-centered community, we must also love sacrificially for the sake of our community. This can be burdensome. Sacrificial love is rarely easy—after all, it is sacrificial. But, by the grace of God, sacrificial love brings joy in its wake. Loving others as Christ has loved us is a worshipful, God-glorifying experience.

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Chris Martin was born in Fort Wayne, Indiana. He earned his undergraduate degree in Biblical Literature from Taylor University in 2013 and his Master of Divinity degree from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in 2017. He started blogging when he was in the eighth grade and he continues to write online through various outlets today. He works at LifeWay Christian Resources in Nashville, TN and lives outside Nashville with his wife, Susie, and their dog, Rizzo.

A Roadmap for Faith Among the Faithless

Most of us know Esther’s story from Sunday school lessons, storybooks, and cartoons. But there’s a real problem with most of these versions. They’re mostly wrong. Not all of them. Just most of them. They make Esther sound like Daniel. They present her as if she is a pillar of virtue, a gorgeous, dignified Jewish girl who wins the heart of the king through the beauty, humility, and character imparted to her by her noble cousin Mordecai. When a crisis comes, she is more than ready to sacrifice herself for the Jewish people, confident that doing God’s will is more important than saving her own skin.

At the very least, her story is more complicated than that. And much darker. It’s less VeggieTales and more Game of Thrones, with a lot more sex, murder, and impaling than the usual version of the story would imply. (There’s actually quite a bit of impaling.) Mordecai and Esther’s motivations are sometimes murky and sometimes blatantly self-serving. Unquestionably, Esther and her cousin are profoundly compromised people when we meet them, having abandoned most of their Jewish identity for a Persian one.

THE SCANDAL OF ESTHER

Martin Luther hated the book of Esther, wanting it struck from the canon. He said, “I am so great an enemy to the second book of the Maccabees, and to Esther, that I wish they had not come to us at all, for they have too many heathen unnaturalities. The Jews much more esteemed the book of Esther than any of the prophets; though they were forbidden to read it before they had attained the age of thirty, by reason of the mystic matters it contains.”

For Luther, it was too Jewish, too heathen, and too scandalous. Yet these characteristics are what make the book so interesting.

Aside from Luther’s anti-Semitism (though one should be extremely wary of glibly setting that aside), the “too Jewish” charge is an interesting one. An annual feast called Purim commemorates the story of Esther, and in some communities, it’s the most celebrated feast and biggest party of the year. Why is that?

One answer is because for much of the history of the Jewish people, from Esther’s day to our own, Jews lived without a land of their own. They were in exile, looking for hope, for the promise that Yahweh hadn’t abandoned them. That’s the whole point of the story of Esther. Even in the darkest moments, when God seems absent, we can trust that he hasn’t abandoned us.

Novelist Walker Percy once wrote, “Why does no one find it remarkable that in most world cities today there are Jews but not one single Hittite, even though the Hittites had a great lourishing civilization while the Jews nearby were a weak and obscure people?”3 There’s something miraculous in the fact that God has sustained the Jews through multiple attempts to wipe them off the face of the earth, and the story of Esther attests to that miracle.

THE REAL MESSAGE OF ESTHER

For Christians, the story is a reminder that God doesn’t abandon his people, no matter how dark their circumstances, how compromised their hearts are, or how hidden he may seem.

Hiddenness is a theme that shapes the whole book of Esther. Mordecai and Esther have hidden identities. Haman—the story’s villain—has hidden motives. More important, God himself is hidden throughout the book. His name isn’t mentioned once, and his absence is a key feature of the story. God’s hiddenness is what makes Esther such an important book for our day too, a day when belief in God feels always resisted, always contested, when everything seems to have a natural explanation, and when our own experience often makes us feel as though God is, indeed, absent.

Luther’s charges—that it’s too heathen, too scandalous—are actually part of what makes the book brilliant. Other biblical characters, like Daniel, Joseph, and the apostles in the book of Acts, all exhibit tremendous faith in the midst of a hostile environment, and God shows up in dramatic, miraculous ways. But Esther and Mordecai are far frailer, more compromised, more human. They’re conflicted, out to save their skins and advance their careers or their social status. There is almost no religion in the book, only a call to fast that we can assume is also a call to prayer. So this is not a story about virtue and character, but about someone who has become acclimated to a godless world and has grown quite comfortable with it. It’s about compromise and crisis, and God’s way of preserving and renewing faith in the midst of it all.

DARE TO BE AN ESTHER?

When I was a kid in Sunday school, we used to sing a song called “Dare to Be a Daniel.” If you understand what’s happening in Esther’s story, you’ll never tell someone “Aspire to be an Esther.”

Yet this reality brings up a final reason this story is so important for us, especially now. Because if we’re honest, we do aspire to be an Esther—but for all the wrong reasons.

Esther embodies everything we think will make us happy. She is beautiful, rich, powerful; she has immense sexual charm and charisma; and she has a legion of servants at her beck and call. She’s kind of the Kim Kardashian of the Old Testament.

Why is Kim Kardashian so famous? Why does she show up on magazine covers, and why do entertainment shows and websites document her every move? It’s because her way of life is compelling. We think she has achieved the “good life”: fame, success, money, sex, power.

Esther embodies the same life . . . right up until her spiritual crisis comes (and Esther’s crisis, we’ll see, is every bit as spiritual as it is political). At that point, Esther has to reckon with God and her place as one of God’s people. She has to choose between power and weakness. Between safety and vulnerability. Between living a life of comfort and risking her life in hopes of saving her soul.

A STORY FOR OUR TIME

In [Faith Among the Faithless], I’ll retell the story of Esther. You’ll notice that I don’t quote the text much, and that’s intentional. For many of us, this is a familiar story, and I want to make the familiar strange, or at least fresh. If I have taken too many liberties, I apologize. I come from a long line of storytellers, and storytellers tend to emphasize the parts they like best. Here, I am not so much trying to entertain as to bring to your attention some of the details. I also hope to help you see these characters in their glorious, broken, and sometimes terrifying humanity.

I also want to retell the story because I think it is one of the best stories in Scripture. The characters, ironies, and plot twists make the story read like an Elmore Leonard novel. And . . . I hope that the elements of this story might surprise you a bit once again.

Most of all, I hope they give you a sense of the way forward in this strange in-between space we occupy. Whatever happens in the years and decades to come, we can be sure that faithfulness looks pretty much like it did three thousand years ago.

Sometimes it looks like Daniel: a steady path of spiritual formation and obedience. But sometimes, and perhaps more often than not in the world we occupy today, it looks more like Esther: a path of awakening, risk, vulnerability, and, ultimately, hope.

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Content taken from Faith Among the Faithless: Learning from Esther How to Live in a World Gone Mad by Mike Ciosper, ©2018. Used by permission of Nelson Books, Nashville, TN.

Mike Cosper is the executive director of Harbor Media, a non-profit media company serving Christians in a post-Christian world. He served for sixteen years as a pastor at Sojourn Community Church in Louisville, Kentucky, and is the author of Recapturing the Wonder, The Stories We Tell, and Rhythms of Grace. He lives with his family in Louisville, Kentucky.

The Acid Test of Our Profession

The acid test of our profession is this: What do you feel like when you are sitting in an air-raid shelter and you can hear the bombs dropping round and about you, and you know that the next bomb may land on you and may be the end of you? That is the test. How do you feel when you are face-to-face with the ultimate, with the end? –Martyn Lloyd-Jones[1]

The apostle Paul counsels Christians, “Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith” (2 Cor. 13:5). Of the many different criteria one could utilize to determine whether someone is a true Christian, is any one test better than the rest? Martyn Lloyd-Jones, the Doctor, believes that one is. He calls it the “acid test” of Christianity: “the most delicate, the most sensitive test, the test of tests.”[2]

THE DOCTOR'S DEFINITION: THE ACID TEST

The Doctor begins by considering three different tests of genuine faith: (1) the doctrinal test, (2) the morality test, and (3) the experience test.[3]

The first, the doctrinal test, Lloyd-Jones calls “the test of orthodoxy.” He argues that orthodoxy is vitally important, and one cannot be a Christian without it, but it is inadequate by itself because one can have dead orthodoxy.

The second, the morality test, says that moral living is what matters because what people do is more important than what they say. Once again, the Doctor says that morality and conduct are absolutely essential; one cannot be a Christian without holy conduct. Yet one can live a moral life and not be a Christian. Nonbelievers can live highly ethical and moral lives. The test of conduct is not a test that can stand on its own.

The third test is the test of experience. Once again Lloyd-Jones agrees that experience is a vital part of the whole Christian position. One must be born again to be a Christian. But the cults also stress experience, and thus experience by itself is not a reliable guide. Lloyd-Jones mentions that one of the most dramatic changes he ever saw in a person’s life happened when a woman he knew joined the cult of Christian Science. “She was entirely changed and transformed—a great experience!”[4] If we put up experience as the ultimate standard, the acid test, we are left without any reply to these various cults.

In the end, the Doctor evaluates each test and pronounces that each one is essential but not sufficient to stand on its own. The three are not “delicate and sensitive enough to merit the term acid test.”[5] But the Doctor puts forth one great standard of analysis that does incorporate all the other assessments (mind, heart, and actions): the hope of glory. He argues that 2 Corinthians 4:17–18 is the acid test of Christianity: “For 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.”

The particular sermon in which he makes this point was preached and recorded in 1969 in Pensacola, Florida, during a hurricane warning. The organizers moved up the Sunday evening service to 2:00 p.m. so that congregants could be in their homes by the time Hurricane Camille struck the city. The Doctor proclaimed that the ultimate proof of a Christian profession comes in moments that bring us face-to-face with time and eternity, life and death. Therefore, he addressed the impending danger of the hurricane in a direct way. One man present for the sermon said he had a sense that “the sermon was not in the Doctor’s plan but was one he had used during the Blitz and thought appropriate for the occasion.”[6]

Lloyd-Jones’s sermon references the Nazi Blitzkrieg upon London in World War II. The Nazis conducted an air strike in which they ruthlessly and relentlessly dropped bombs on London. The whole nation was ready to lose heart. People could find no hope in what they saw outside their windows. They could see no reasons to rejoice in the rubble. The Doctor says that the true criterion of Christianity is not how you feel in pleasant circumstances or while you are reading theology. It is how you respond to the worst circumstances.

THE REAL TEST

The acid test of our profession is this: What do you feel like when you are sitting in an air-raid shelter and you can hear the bombs dropping round and about you, and you know that the next bomb may land on you and may be the end of you? That is the test. How do you feel when you are face-to-face with the ultimate, with the end?[7]

Next, Lloyd-Jones works back through the three assessments one by one to show that the hope of glory in the face of death is a sufficient answer to guarantee all of the others.

I suggest that this is the acid test because, you see, it covers my orthodoxy. The only people who can speak like this are those who know whom they have believed, those who are certain of their faith. Nobody else can. Other people can turn their backs upon disasters and whistle to keep up their courage in the dark, they can do many things, but they cannot speak like this without being orthodox.[8]

The hope of glory also covers the criterion of morality. “This test also guarantees conduct and morality, because the trouble with people who merely have an intellectual belief is that in the moment of crisis their faith does not help them. They feel condemned. Their consciences accuse them. They are in trouble because they know they are frauds.”[9]

The hope of glory also incorporates the proof of experience.

And in the same way this test also guarantees the experiential element, the life, the power, the vigor. People cannot speak like this unless these truths are living realities to them. They are the only ones who are able to look upon calamity and smile at it and refer to it as “our light affliction, which is but for a moment,” which “worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.”[10]

The hope of glory gives probing proof of a true Christian profession because calamity will cause other, counterfeit hopes to come crashing down. When all earthly hopes are lost, a Christian still has hope because his hope is fixed not upon this passing world but upon the world to come.

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Content taken from Lloyd-Jones on the Christian Life: Doctrine and Life as Fuel and Fire by Jason Meyer, ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

Jason C. Meyer (PhD, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary) is pastor for preaching and vision at Bethlehem Baptist Church and associate professor of New Testament at Bethlehem College and Seminary. Prior to coming to Bethlehem, he served as dean of chapel and assistant professor of Christian Studies at Louisiana College. He is the author of Preaching: A Biblical Theology and a commentary on Philippians in the ESV Expository Commentary.

[1] Setting Our Affections upon Glory: Nine Sermons on the Gospel and the Church (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2013), 16.

[2] Ibid., 13.

[3] Ibid., 13–15.

[4] Ibid., 15.

[5] Ibid.

[6] John Schultz, forward to Lloyd-Jones, Setting Our Affections upon Glory, 9.

[7] Lloyd-Jones, Setting Our Affections upon Glory, 16.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid., 16–17.

The Healing Balm of Confession

“And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ ” —Luke 15:21

I love the story of the prodigal son. I believe that it can teach us much about what we can do to make our way home on this issue of unity in the Church. Most of us, I am sure, are familiar with this parable of a son who was itching to get his inheritance and get out from under the strict rules in his father’s home. When this wayward son demanded his inheritance from his father and walked away from his home and his responsibilities, he rejected the standards that his father had set for him. He set his own standard for what was right and good and wasted his resources on selfish living. He learned soon enough that the Enemy had fooled him and all that glittered was not gold. And finally when all of his wealth and possessions were gone he came to himself and realized that the path he was travelling was wrong; it was self-destructive.

In many ways we can say this of the church. We walked away from the standard that our Father set for the church, and yes, we have wasted our resources on selfish endeavors. We have set many standards for what is right and good. Our standards are often bigger buildings, more people in the pews, more programs, and more money in our capital budgets. And the record is that the church in America is dying. According to The American Church Research Project, “between 1990 and 2009 more than 56 million people were added to the US census (56,819,471);” however, "during the same 20-year span only 446,540 people became active members of a local church; less than 1%."

By anyone’s standards, that’s a church in decline.

THE BEAUTY OF BROKENNESS

There is something so compelling about this prodigal son’s confession. And I think what makes it so heartwarming is the humility he demonstrates. It’s beautiful because it’s such a picture of brokenness. Brokenness is the opposite of pride. It is the willingness to admit our faults without concern for our reputation. It is the willingness to lay down our own rights and do whatever benefits the other. It is putting the needs of the other above our own. It lays the groundwork for reconciliation to occur.  This prodigal son acknowledged that as he sinned against his earthly father, he was also sinning against the God of heaven. Our sins against our brothers and sisters are ultimately against our Father in heaven. As we struggle to become reconciled to one another, this is an essential part of the process. Each of us must “come to ourselves” and own our part in this mess . . . and we must become broken about it.

Before the Lord opened my eyes to the call of reconciliation, my part was anger. I wanted to get even. I was tired of being taken advantage of and not being able to fight back. And I was so fearful. My fear and anger were barriers that kept me from reaching out. The book of Acts shows us another beautiful picture of brokenness.

In Acts 16:25–34, we read that Paul and Silas have been imprisoned for preaching the gospel, and at midnight they prayed. God sent an earthquake to shake the very foundations of the prison. Thinking that the prisoners had escaped, the Roman jailer prepared to take his own life. But Paul stopped him and affirmed that none had escaped. At this moment something incredible happens. The Roman jailer was transformed from enemy and abuser to broken and tender healer, as he is confronted with his wrong and the power that is at work within Paul and Silas. He falls trembling before them and asks, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” That question is pregnant with power. The strong willingly becomes weak. The superior willingly becomes inferior. I realize that I have been wrong; that I have wronged you. How can I make it right? He comes to himself and claims Jesus as Savior, and we see him washing the wounds that perhaps he himself had inflicted. That’s powerful!

After the beating I suffered in Brandon, Mississippi, I spent a good deal of time in the hospital. I was broken in body and broken in spirit. I had come to understand that my reaction of anger, hate, and bitterness was as bad as the action of the white jail guards who had beaten me. It was at that point that I was able to see my own brokenness. God used the black and white nurses and doctors at that hospital to wash my wounds. For me they were symbolic of the people who had beaten me. What they did healed more than just my broken body. It healed my heart. I wanted to hate all white people after what happened to me. But God used their compassion and care to break the wall of anger, distrust, and bitterness. He used their kindness to convict me of how wrong I was to harbor bitterness in my heart.  He set me free to love them in return.

THE HARD BUSINESS OF CONFESSION

Oh, how beautiful it would be if we could wash one another’s wounds from the evil of racism in the church! That could be the balm that heals us . . . that sets us free . . . that rekindles the light that has long been hidden under a bushel. But those wounds cannot and will not be healed without first being exposed. We must do as the prodigal did and acknowledge that we have sinned against God and against one another. I spoke at a multicultural church in Seattle not long ago. As I shared my testimony, many of those attending shared their own stories. Many had stories of being dehumanized as a minority. Some told stories of internment of their family and friends. I realized that I might have been guilty at some time of dehumanizing others. I had to repent and ask God for forgiveness. When we do that he promises to forgive us, to remove our sin as far as the east is from the west (Ps. 103:12).

But the wounds often remain. Often they leave scabs that have to be gingerly removed . . . until all that is left is a scar. The memory of the hurt. I know that confession and brokenness are almost un-American terms. We pride ourselves on our rugged individualism and our right to be right. So it may not be “American” to admit our faults and humble ourselves before one another, but if we want to be like Christ this is what we must do. He was equal with God, but he humbled himself and dwelt among his creation. He got hungry and thirsty just as we do. And he submitted himself to ridicule and scorn in order to purchase our salvation. He is our example. “Remember the word that I said to you: ‘A slave is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will keep yours also” (John 15:20).

If Jesus is truly our master, then humility and brokenness will become doable. So, let’s do the hard business of confession. Let’s do it together.

It may not be “American” to humble ourselves and admit our faults before one another, but if we want to be like Christ this is what we must do.

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Taken from One Blood: Parting Words to the Church on Race by John Perkins with Karen Waddles (©2018). Published by Moody Publishers. Used by permission.

Dr. John M. Perkins is the founder and president emeritus of the John and Vera Mae Perkins Foundation and co-founder of Christian Community Development Association. He has served in advisory roles under five U.S. presidents, is one of the leading evangelical voices to come out of the American civil rights movement, and is an author and international speaker on issues of reconciliation, leadership, and community development. For his tireless work, he has received 14 honorary doctorates.

Born to Make Disciples

“Son, you know you’re going to be a preacher someday, right?” People told me this all through my childhood, though few knew that I was not a believer at the time. Once I got saved at the age of fifteen, I still thought the people who said this were completely crazy. I can clearly remember a few weeks after I was saved telling God that there was no way I was going into the ministry.

I have since learned that you don’t ever tell God the things that you will never do.

BORN TO MAKE DISCIPLES

Since my conversion, I've been discipled by several men who have shown me what it means to be and make disciples. I've been an itinerant preacher, a youth pastor, and now an author and speaker. During this time, I learned that discipleship is not just a class you take inside the church. For me, it is having a deep, meaningful relationship with a fellow believer so that you can have gospel faithfulness mirrored for you. God put multiple men in my life who very willingly said, “Follow me as I follow Jesus.”

I truly love my job, even with all the difficulties that come with being a pastor. I would not trade this for anything else in the world. The call to make disciples day in and day out is an amazing opportunity. There are costs that you must count much in the same way that you must count the cost of being a disciple.

I know there are some of you who are reading this and praying about going into full-time ministry. If that is you, I want you to know that ministry is hard. The hours are long and irregular. Your family will bear the burden of the constant stress of the job. You will constantly see people at their worst. There will be seasons that you will want to quit and get a different job. You will have days that will make you wonder why God called you in the first place.

That’s when God reminds you why He called you. It is because your life is about His kingdom and not yours. It is because He is going to get all the glory and you are set to get none of it. It is because He wants to set you apart and not to just set you up for earthly success. It is because it is about His claim on your life and not your comfort.

As a matter of fact, that call is to come and die. Die to yourself, die to your wants, and die to this world. Our aim is to make His name great among all peoples and nations, but we have the honor of starting to make His name great among all people. Whether you are called to full-time ministry or not, every believer is called to make disciples. Even if that means pouring your life into one or two believers while also working your nine to five, the cost of making disciples is well worth it.

NO EXCUSES

I sometimes thought the cost of making disciples was too great for me to handle. It is funny to think that I built my independence on not quitting or giving in to excuses, but I wavered the moment that stepping into ministry became an option. I can clearly remember my prayer life being filled with a whole lot of, “But, God—”

But, God—I am a horrible speaker. But, God—I am an introvert.

But, God—I have no idea how to do this.

But, God—people aren’t going to see past this armless thing.

I was the young Christian who had staked my young faith on Philippians 4:13. I was living like God could help me overcome anything … except my fear of ministry. I was buying the lie heard in the garden, “Did God really say?” That was the only question that the snake offered Eve to get her to fling herself into disobedience. It was the same lie that I was diving into wholeheartedly because it was the easy thing to do. I didn’t want to walk another hard road.   I had been down so many trying to learn to eat, write, and dress myself. I was happy to not fight this battle, until God took me across Jeremiah 1:

Now the word of the Lord came to me, saying, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.”

Then I said, “Ah, Lord God! Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth.” But the Lord said to me,

“Do not say, ‘I am only a youth’; for to all to whom I send you, you shall go, and whatever I command you, you shall speak. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, declares the Lord.” (Jer. 1:4–8)

God has a way of stopping excuse-filled hearts with His very words. Jeremiah wanted to hold up his age and lack of wisdom as evidence for his uselessness in ministry. God had only to say that age is just a number and Jeremiah’s words would be the very words of the Lord. The same words that formed the earth. The same words that always accomplish their purpose. The same words that are sharper than any double-edged sword. God had made Jeremiah for this, equipped him for this, and was there to walk with him through it all.

Excuses extinguished.

In digging into the life of Jeremiah even further, you see how he earns the label of “weeping prophet.” His message centered on the sinfulness of Israel and their need to turn back to the Lord. He gets persecuted by his own family, and, because Israel ignores the words of the Lord, Jeremiah suffers through the destruction of Jerusalem. This suffering prophet who told of the suffering of sin to come must suffer through his obedience to what the Lord sent him to do.

Excuses are meaningless to the God who made all things.

THE REALITY OF DISCIPLE-MAKING

Suffering is the brand of the believer. That truth left me in convicted silence as I sat in front of God’s legacy in the life of Jeremiah. I had been told lies from the enemy and had bought them. I saw an easy road, and I was happy to take it. But what in the life of Christ was built of excuses or ease? He didn’t step off that cross when the very people He was dying for spat on Him. He didn’t bail when He was born in a barn and not a palace. The life of my Lord was absent of ease and excuse. In fact, the life of Christ shows a redemption bought willingly in His own blood.

So why do I so easily divorce the life of the disciple from the example of the Savior? Why do I expect comfort when my Lord had anything but that? Why do I whine and complain when the perfect Lamb who stepped down from the right hand of the Father was silent before His shearers?

The cost of discipleship is a hard reality for all of us to count. It is a reality that makes the Great Commission a choice between comfort or obedience. Either we go and make disciples, or we disobey. The Great Commission is not a mission statement for pastors; it is marching orders for the church. Either we buy excuses to justify our disobedience or we rest in grace so that we may speak of grace. The choice is ours.

Talk about a hard reality to swallow. Equally, what a hard reality that our Savior conquered sin and death so that we can have eternal life. It is in that beauty that we rest in and can have the courage to stand. It is that gospel beauty that the believer can abide in and tell of. It is when we savor the beauty of Christ that we want to share that sort of sweetness with the world. That’s why in Acts 20:24 Paul can boldly say: “But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.”

Why is Paul able to stare at life itself and choose Christ over comfort? Because grace is better than comfort. Gospel words are better than excuse-encrusted silence. Christ gave us a calling that sets captives free and calls people from death to life. The church cannot be silent about that. There is too much at stake for a lost and dying world for disciples to accept the lie heard in the garden. Some of us may never step on the mission field or walk into a pulpit, and that is perfectly fine. We all accept the call to make disciples the moment we call on Jesus as Lord.

The question is not if we’re called to make disciples; the question is a question of when and where.

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Daniel Ritchie is a speaker and writer from Huntersville, North Carolina, who has contributed to such publications as Desiring God and For the Church. He has 10 years of experience in student ministry and a bachelor of arts in biblical studies and the history of ideas from the College at Southeastern. He and his wife, Heather, have two children. You can learn more about Daniel at his website or follow him on Twitter.

3 Forms of Prayer That End Up Forming Us

Prayer has a formative impact on our lives—the manner or form of our prayers actually shapes the contours and character of our lives. So frequently, it would seem, our prayers begin with our experience: something in our lives occasions a particular prayer, typically a petition or request. And thus the content of our prayers is determined by what is happening in our lives. But perhaps the reverse should actually be the norm. Without doubt, the circumstances of our lives will inform our prayers. But perhaps what should be happening is that our prayers would inform our lives, that our praying would alter our living, that our prayers would shape the contours and content of our daily experience.

PRAYER AS FORMATION

In this way of living and praying, we would allow our deepest convictions—our faith and our theological vision of God, ourselves, and our world—to inform our prayers and be the means by which we know the transforming power of grace in our lives. More particularly, we would choose that the reign of Christ—the kingdom of God—would increasingly be that which defines our lives, our ways of being, living, and responding to our world. We would find that the salvation of God is not merely something that God has done for us—in Christ, on the cross—but also something that God is doing in us.

To this end, our prayers play a crucial role. Indeed, if transformation does not happen through our prayers, it likely does not happen. This is why it is so crucial that we teach new Christians how to pray and that in our patterns and approaches to congregational life we are consistently coming back to the fundamentals of prayer. And this is why all of us, older and newer Christians alike, are always coming back to the basics of the form and structure of formative prayer.

When we pray “thy kingdom come,” should not our prayer be an act of recalibration? Could our praying be an act of intentional alignment and realignment? That is, in our prayer our vision of the kingdom purposes of God will be deepened and broadened; we will be drawn into the reality of Christ risen and now on the throne of the universe. And thus through our prayers we not only pray for the kingdom but also come to increasingly live within the kingdom, under the reign of Christ.

This last point is crucial. So frequently we pray as though God is passive and we are trying to get God to act. But could it be that God is always active? And that in our praying we are aware of how God is actually always at work, bringing his kingdom into effect, and we are seeing and responding to the kingdom even as we pray “thy kingdom come”? In the process, we are increasingly more aligned and in tune with the kingdom, more and more living our lives, individually and in community, in a manner that consistently reflects, in word and deed, the coming kingdom of God.

3 MOVEMENTS IN OUR PRAYERS

Can we do this? Certainly, but only if we are intentional. We need to consider the merits of a very focused and purposeful approach to our prayers. Yes, there is a place for spontaneity. And most certainly there is a place for freeform prayers where we express to God our immediate thoughts and feelings. But when we speak of our formation in Christ and our participation in the kingdom—where the kingdom of God increasingly defines us more than anything else—we should perhaps be focused and purposeful. We can consider the value of consistency and even routine, an approach to prayer that has an order to it. We can even speak of a liturgy, meaning that our prayers have a regular pattern to them so that over time our hearts and minds and lives are increasingly conformed to the very thing for which we are praying.

In this kind of intentionality it is very helpful to think in terms of three movements in our prayers, three forms of prayer by which we respond to and learn to live in the reality that Christ is risen and active in our world—that in and through Christ the reign of God is coming. Three movements, with an intentional sequence.

First, we give thanks. We see and respond with gratitude to the ways in which God is already at work in our world and in our lives. We begin here. We begin by seeing the evidence of the reign of Christ—the ways that God is already at work in our lives and in our world. And we give thanks. We pray “thy kingdom come” in a way that not only acknowledges that God is already at work but celebrates and gives thanks for this work. We cannot pray “thy kingdom come” if we are not grateful for how the kingdom has come and is coming. Thanksgiving is foundational to the Christian life and thus foundational to prayer.

Second, we make confession—the essential realignment of those who long to live under the reign of Christ. We pray “thy kingdom come,” and very soon we also pray—if we follow the sequence of the Lord’s Prayer—“forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” We practice confession. It is clear from Scripture that when the kingdom is announced and when the kingdom is at hand—present, in our midst, and recognized—we respond with confession (Mark 1:15).

Confession is essential if we truly recognize and believe in the coming of the kingdom. If we have kingdom eyes, the genius of our response is that we see where there is a disconnect. We see and feel that our lives are not being lived ina way that is consistent with the kingdom. We cannot pray “your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” unless and until we see the ways that our lives are not lived in consistency with the will of God. And so, recognizing the kingdom, we repent: we practice confession. Repentance, then, is not merely a matter of feeling bad about something we have said or done, but rather an act of intentional alignment—or better, realignment—with the coming of the reign of Christ.

And third, we practice discernment—considering where and how God is calling us to speak and act as participants in the kingdom of God. We pray “thy kingdom come” as those who are also called to be full participants, in word and deed, in what God is doing in the world. And so when we pray we of course ask—or better, discern—how we are called in our lives to witness to the kingdom.

We are not merely observers; we are engaged. We are invited—more, actually called as agents of God’s purposes in the world. Our words and our deeds matter. In some mysterious way, even though God and God alone brings about the kingdom, our lives witness to the kingdom—our words, our work. And so when we pray “thy kingdom come,” we also necessarily must pray, How, oh Lord, are you calling me to make a difference in your kingdom purposes for our world? 

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Taken from Teach Us to Pray by Gordon T. Smith. Copyright (c) 2018 by Gordon T. Smith Published by InterVarsity Press, Downers Grove, IL. www.ivpress.com

Gordon T. Smith (PhD, Loyola School of Theology, Ateneo de Manila University) is the president of Ambrose University and Seminary in Calgary, Alberta, where he also serves as professor of systematic and spiritual theology. He is an ordained minister with the Christian and Missionary Alliance and a teaching fellow at Regent College, Vancouver, British Columbia. He is the author of many books, including Courage and Calling, Called to Be Saints, Spiritual Direction, Consider Your Calling, and The Voice of Jesus.

What I Didn't Learn in Seminary: How to Shepherd My Wife

My wife, Charlotte, and I got married young. She was nineteen and I was twenty-one. I came from a good Christian home. My parents and grandparents were all Christians. Charlotte, in stark contrast, came out of a broken home. Both of her parents were alcoholics. They divorced when she was seven. At age nine she, her sister, and her brother were placed in the Georgia Baptist Children’s Home, where she lived until she was eighteen. During those years she almost never saw her parents. Her father did not attend our wedding, though he lived in the Atlanta area where we were married.

I say all this to point out that we came into our marriage with very different perspectives and expectations. I knew what a good home was and recognized that good was good. Perfection, though the ideal, would not be reached in this life since marriage is two sinners (saved by grace if they know Jesus!) living in close proximity.

Charlotte was absolutely determined not to follow in the footsteps of her parents. She was going to have the perfect marriage if it killed us both (and it nearly did on more than a few occasions)!

Add to this that we had no premarital counseling, for three reasons: (1) The year before we married, I attended Bible college in Dallas, and she was in Atlanta living with my parents. (2) The week before we married, our pastor—who married us—announced that he and his wife were getting a divorce. The one time we did meet with him, he apologized through tears, saying he really did not feel he could say anything to us. (3) In almost seven years of Bible college and seminary, I had exactly one class on marriage and family, which came outside my seminary education. I have no memory of a discussion on the home in seminary. None at all.

Given this background, you can imagine that our early days of marriage were quite challenging. Some were downright trying. Charlotte and I loved each other, and divorce was never an option, but all was not blissful, and the sailing was not smooth. We had some tough days.

I am writing this piece having just celebrated our thirty-eighth wedding anniversary. I can honestly say that outside of Jesus, nothing has brought me more happiness and joy than being a husband, father, and grandfather. But it has been hard work, and no one in seminary ever told me it would be. I have learned through the years and in the school of “hard knocks” that there are things I could have done to shepherd my wife more effectively and lovingly. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn these things during my years in seminary.

I have had the joy of doing marriage and family conferences for several decades. You could say it is my spiritual hobby. Charlotte says I need to do at least one a month because I keep forgetting what I teach! Unfortunately, there is quite a bit of truth in those words.

When it comes to husbands, I first do an exposition of Ephesians 5:25–33. Then, I build on that foundation, draw from other relevant passages, and share seven practical ways to bless your wife day in and day out. I would argue that these ideas are true for every husband. I would also argue that they are especially needful for those who shepherd God’s flock. I wish I had been taught these things in seminary. But better later than never.

7 WAYS TO BLESS YOUR WIFE

A husband can be a blessing to his wife by loving her as Christ loved the church and giving her specific gifts of love. Here are seven:

1. Be a spiritual leader. Be a man of godly courage, conviction, commitment, compassion, and character. Take the initiative in cultivating a spiritual environment for your family. Become a capable and competent student of Scripture, and live all of life on the basis of God’s Word. Nurture your wife in her growth as a woman of God, and take the lead in training your children in the things of the Lord (Psalm 1; Eph. 5:23–27).

2. Give your wife personal affirmation and appreciation. Praise her personal attributes and qualities. Speak of her virtues as a wife, mother, and homemaker. Openly commend her in the hearing of others as a marvelous mate, friend, lover, and companion. Help her feel that no one in this world is more important to you (Prov. 31:28– 29; Song 4:1–7; 6:4–9; 7:1–9).

3. Show personal affection (romance). Shower her with timely and generous displays of affection. Tell her how much you care for her with a steady flow of words, cards, flowers, gifts, and common courtesies. Remember, affection is the environment in which sexual union is enjoyed more fully and a wonderful marriage is developed (Song 6:10, 13; Eph. 5:28–29, 33).

4. Initiate intimate conversation. Talk with her at the level of feelings (heart to heart). Listen to her thoughts (her heart) about the events of her day with sensitivity, interest, and concern. Let your conversations with her convey a desire to understand her—not to change her (Song 2:8–14; 8:13–14; 1 Pet. 3:7). Changing her is God’s job, not yours.

5. Always be honest and open. Look into her eyes and, in love, always tell her the truth (Eph. 4:15). Explain your plans and actions clearly and completely because you are responsible for her. Lead her to trust you and feel secure (Prov. 15:22–23).

6. Provide home support and stability. Shoulder the responsibility to house, feed, and clothe your family. Provide and protect, and resist feeling sorry for yourself when things get tough. Look for concrete ways to improve home life. Raise your marriage and family to a safer and more fulfilling level. Remember, the husband and father is the security hub of the family (1 Tim. 5:8).

7. Demonstrate family commitment. After the Lord Jesus, put your wife and family first. Commit time and energy to spiritual, moral, and intellectual development of your children. For example, pray with them (especially at night at bedside), read to them, engage in sports with them, and take them on other outings. Do not play the fool’s game of working long hours, trying to get ahead, while your spouse and children languish in neglect (Eph. 6:4; Col. 3:19–20).[1]

These are things I did not learn in seminary. I had to learn them in life. And I’m grateful I learned them from expositing the Word of God!

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Content taken from 15 Things Seminary Couldn't Teach Me edited by Collin Hansen and Jeff Robinson Sr., ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

[1] For related discussion, see also Daniel L. Akin, “Pastor as Husband and Father,” in Portraits of a Pastor: The 9 Essential Roles of a Church Leader, ed. Jason K. Allen (Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2017), and Akin, Exalting Jesus in Song of Songs (Nashville: B&H, 2015).

Daniel L. Akin is president of Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in Wake Forest, North Carolina, and is a council member with The Gospel Coalition.

The Astonishing Humiliation of Christ

It is utterly astonishing that the faithful servant of the Lord, the promised deliverer of Israel, would be put on public display in a horrifying, humiliating fashion. That is the very word Isaiah uses: “Many were astonished at you—his appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of the children of mankind” (Isa. 52:14). That verse is an abrupt and startling interruption set between two verses that describe the servant’s honor, influence, and exaltation. It is written in a way that purposely magnifies the reader’s astonishment. The sudden shift in topics—from exaltation to humiliation with no warning or transition whatsoever—illustrates the reason “many were astonished.” Putting it simply, as we keep stressing, the death of the promised Messiah was profoundly shocking. It seems no one besides Jesus himself was prepared for his death.

Incidentally, the Hebrew word translated “astonished” is a rich one. The English word is capable of being used in a very positive sense. It’s used, for example, in Mark 7:37, where it describes the people’s fascination and delight after Jesus healed a deaf man, and Scripture says “they were astonished beyond measure, saying, ‘He has done all things well.’” When he taught the multitudes, “they were astonished at his teaching, for his word possessed authority” (Luke 4:32). And when he healed a boy with an unclean spirit, “all were astonished at the majesty of God” (Luke 9:43).

Isaiah 52:14 is speaking about a different kind of astonishment. Isaiah uses a Hebrew term (shamem) that is never used to describe a positive reaction. It’s closer to the English word appalled. But it’s even stronger than that. It speaks of being totally devastated. In fact it’s a term that can describe the total defeat of an army or the utter desolation of a vast region that has fallen into ruins. (Isaiah used this word in 49:19 to describe the land of Judah after the Chaldean armies had demolished almost every trace of human habitation. He spoke of “your desolate [shamem] places and your devastated land.”)

DEVASTATED AT THE DISFIGUREMENT OF CHRIST

The same Hebrew word is used quite frequently in the Old Testament, and it is usually translated “left desolate” or “laid waste.” But when used in a context such as Isaiah 52:14, the word has the connotation of horror. It speaks of a shock so staggering that one loses control of all rational faculties. It could be translated “numbed,” “petrified,” or “paralyzed.”

So this is a very strong word with a broad range of uses but a very clear meaning. Leviticus 26:32 uses the word twice in a kind of play on words that shows its wide semantic range. God himself is speaking, and he says, “I myself will devastate [shamem] the land, so that your enemies who settle in it shall be appalled [shamem] at it.”

Isaiah employs the term to describe the dismay of those who would witness the atrocious injuries inflicted on the suffering servant. They were devastated. But the damage done to him is indescribably worse: “His appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of the children of mankind” (Isa. 52:14). In other words, he would be so disfigured from the sufferings inflicted on him that his face and body would not even appear to be human.

The marring and disfigurement in view here are of course a description of what took place immediately prior to our Lord’s crucifixion, while he was on trial. Jesus’s disfigurement actually began in Gethsemane on the night of his betrayal and arrest. Scripture describes the deep, inward anguish and utter physical exhaustion he experienced as the sinless Son of God contemplated sin bearing and separation from his Father. He was literally sweating blood at the thought of what he would suffer on behalf of sinners. So he would have been weak and haggard-looking even before he was dragged away and put on trial.

THE DESOLATION OF CHRIST

But what left him “so marred, beyond human semblance” were the many tortures inflicted on him by those who put him to death. We know from the Gospel accounts that Jesus was struck on the head, spat upon, mocked, and flogged. He was beaten and abused by the chief priests (Matt. 26:67–68), the temple guard (Mark 14:65), and the Romans (Matt. 27:27–30). Added to that was the terrible scourging he received on Pilate’s orders (John 19:1).

To be flogged with a Roman scourge was a severe, even life-threatening punishment. The victim was lashed mercilessly with a flagellum, a short whip consisting of a wooden handle to which long leather thongs were attached. Each strip of leather had sharp pieces of bone, iron, and zinc held in place by knots spaced an inch or two apart (for a foot or more) along the business end of each thong. The victim would be tied to a post with his hands above his head and his feet suspended off the ground, stretching his body taught. As the biting strands of the flagellum tore into his back, muscles would be lacerated, veins cut, and internal organs exposed. So massive was the trauma inflicted that the scourging itself did sometimes prove fatal.

Of course, when the sentence called for crucifixion, death by the scourge was an undesirable outcome. A skilled lictor (the officer wielding the scourge) knew just how to apply the instrument in a way that would maximize the pain and injury, yet keep the victim alive so that the sentence of crucifixion could be carried out.

Crucifixion was the most brutal form of public execution ever devised. The injuries inflicted in the process were unspeakably savage. Nevertheless, the New Testament narrative makes very little mention of the actual wounds Christ suffered. After the resurrection, Jesus himself spoke of the wounds in his hands and side (John 20:27). But the New Testament doesn’t attempt to describe in detail the severity of Jesus’s injuries. Anyone within the realm of Roman influence would already be familiar with the awful damage done to a person’s body by crucifixion.

PROPHECIES OF THE SUFFERING SERVANT

Therefore, the Old Testament prophecies about Christ’s death tell us more about the humiliating injuries he suffered than the New Testament does. Isaiah 52:14 is the Bible’s most graphic one-verse description of our Lord’s extreme disfigurement—his face so marred that he no longer appeared to be human. Psalm 22 provides even more insight into what Jesus endured on the cross. That psalm begins with the very words Christ uttered on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The psalm also quotes the words of those who mocked the Savior as he hung there: “He trusts in the Lord; let him deliver him; let him rescue him, for he delights in him!” (v. 8; cf. Matt. 27:42).

So there can be no doubt what Psalm 22 refers to. This is Christ’s own testimony about the cross, given to us prophetically in a psalm that was written at least a thousand years before it was fulfilled. He says,

I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast; my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death.

For dogs encompass me; a company of evildoers encircles me; they have pierced my hands and feet— I can count all my bones— they stare and gloat over me. (vv. 14–17)

That describes the crucifixion of Christ with uncanny accuracy, even though it was written centuries before anyone ever thought of executing criminals this way. The piercing of hands and feet refers, of course, to the nails used to fasten Jesus to the cross. Jesus’s bones would be wrenched “out of joint” when (after nailing him to the cross) the executioners would lift the cross upright and let it drop into a post-hole that had been dug deep enough to allow the cross to stand upright. The bone-jarring impact would dislocate multiple joints throughout the body. The bones could be counted because extreme trauma and dehydration left him an almost skeletal figure. The surrounding “company of evildoers” is precisely what the Gospel accounts describe (Mark 15:27–32). The phrase “my heart . . . melted within my breast” is the very image one gets from John’s description of the scene when “one of the soldiers pierced [Jesus’s] side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water” (John 19:34).

THE GRUESOME ORIGINS OF CRUCIFIXION

Again, Psalm 22 is a precise prophetic description of the results of crucifixion, more graphic than we get even from the New Testament eyewitness accounts. Yet the earliest mention of crucifixion in any historical record refers to an event that occurred five hundred years after David. When Darius I conquered Babylon for the second time in 519 BC, he had three thousand of the city’s most prominent men impaled and left to die slowly.[1] The practice was subsequently adopted as a means of public execution because of the way it struck terror into the hearts of those who witnessed it. Various forms of impalement and crucifixion were employed by world empires for the next five hundred years. The Greeks generally scorned the practice and used it only sparingly. It was the Romans who perfected a method that would keep victims suffering in agony for three days or longer.

A nineteenth-century English church leader, Frederic Farrar, wrote this description of the horrors of crucifixion:

[On a cross], in tortures which grew ever more insupportable, ever more maddening as time owed on, the unhappy victims might linger in a living death so cruelly intolerable, that often they were driven to entreat and implore the spectators, or the executioners, for dear pity’s sake, to put an end to anguish too awful for man to bear—conscious to the last, and often, with tears of abject misery, beseeching from their enemies the priceless boon of death.

For indeed a death by crucifixion seems to include all that pain and death can have of horrible and ghastly—dizziness, cramp, thirst, starvation, sleeplessness, traumatic fever, tetanus, publicity of shame, long continuance of torment, horror of anticipation, mortification of untended wounds—all intensified just up to the point at which they can be endured at all, but all stopping just short of the point which would give to the sufferer the relief of unconsciousness. The unnatural position made every movement painful; the lacerated veins and crushed tendons throbbed with incessant anguish; the wounds, inflamed by exposure, gradually gangrened; the arteries—especially of the head and stomach—became swollen and oppressed with surcharged blood; and while each variety of misery went on gradually increasing, there was added to them the intolerable pang of a burning and raging thirst; and all these physical complications caused an internal excitement and anxiety, which made the prospect of death itself—of death, the awful unknown enemy, at whose approach man usually shudders most—bear the aspect of a delicious and exquisite release.[2]

FROM HUMILIATION TO EXALTATION

Isaiah 52:14 must be understood in that light. The brutal treatment Jesus suffered left him so maimed and mangled that he hardly looked human.

The people’s astonishment expressed their contempt. It reflects the profound shock they felt as they saw Jesus’s humiliation. They found him repulsive, far from their conception of what the Messiah King should be like. His degradation was the deepest possible, the most severe, and the most horrible.

But in contrast, his exaltation would be the highest, most profound, and most glorious.

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[1] Herodotus, Histories, 3.159.

[2] Frederic William Farrar, The Sweet Story of Jesus: The Life of Christ (New York: Common- wealth, 1891), 619. For an analysis of the medical aspects of crucifixion, see William D. Edwards, Wesley J. Gabel, and Floyd E. Hosmer, “On the Physical Death of Jesus Christ,” Journal of the American Medical Association 255 (March 21, 1986): 1455–63.

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Content taken from The Gospel according to God: Rediscovering the Most Remarkable Chapter in the Old Testament by John MacArthur, ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

John MacArthur is the pastor-teacher of Grace Community Church in Sun Valley, California, where he has served since 1969. He is known around the world for his verse-by-verse expository preaching and his pulpit ministry via his daily radio program, Grace to You. He has also written or edited nearly four hundred books and study guides. MacArthur serves as the president of the Master’s University and Seminary. He and his wife, Patricia, live in Southern California and have four grown children.

The Last Days of King Jesus: A Guide for Holy Week

Between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday, the drama of redemption comes to a climax. Jesus, the supposed King of the Jews, is arrested, unjustly convicted, tortured, mocked, and brutally murdered. As we read through Jesus' last days, we see that he endured these things for us. He was accused for us. He was abandoned for us. He was condemned for us. He was betrayed for us.  For centuries, Christians have meditated through Holy Week on the suffering and passion of Jesus, generating a sense of wonder at both the person who suffered and the meaning of his suffering.

Purchase a copy of A Guide for Holy Week: The Last Days of King Jesus, and join us this Holy Week as we reflect on Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. This collection of essays, Scripture meditations, and songs will serve you during Holy Week as you seek to grow as a disciple of Jesus.

A Guide for Holy Week: The Last Days of King Jesus is available in paperback and Kindle editions.

GIVEAWAY

To celebrate Easter, we're giving away five copies of Raised?: Finding Jesus by Doubting the Resurrection by Jonathan K. Dodson and Brad Watson.

About Raised?:

Did Jesus really beat death? That’s what Christians for hundreds of years have believed, that Jesus Christ returned to life after death and burial in a stone tomb. To the modern mind, “resurrection” is utterly implausible, but it was also doubtful to many first-century Greeks, Jews, and even some Christians. With such an incredible assertion at the heart of the Christian faith, it’s no wonder that some people struggle to believe.

The giveaway will take place from March 22, 2018 at 10:00 p.m. to March 25 at 11:59 p.m. EDT.

Raised? Book Giveaway

Why Are You Suffering? Here's God's Answer

Job, his wife, and his three friends agreed on two things. Our lives are “few of days and full of trouble” (Job 14:1), and God’s hand is intimately mixed up in our troubles. But strife and perplexity set in among them when they tried to explain exactly how God and troubles connect. They argued about the cause of Job’s troubles; no one understood the backstory of cosmic drama. They argued about what God was up to; no one understood that God had purposes for good beyond human comprehension and he was not punishing Job. They argued about the validity of Job’s professed faith and faithfulness; no one understood that Job was both the genuine article and a work in progress. And they argued about who needed to do what in response to affliction; no one understood that the Lord would show up, that he would be asking the questions, that his purposes would be fulfilled. The Lord himself described Job as “a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil” (Job 1:8). But who could have predicted the tumultuous journey that proved that fact?

WHERE IS GOD IN YOUR SUFFERING?

Thousands of years later, we humankind are still short-lived and still much afflicted. And our troubles still perplex us. Why is this happening to me? Where is God? What is he doing? What does faith look like? How does the Lord show up? Why is the journey so tumultuous?

And what difference does it make that in between Job’s afflictions back then and your afflictions right now, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us? Job said:

I know that my Redeemer lives,


and at the last he will stand upon the earth.

And after my skin has been thus destroyed,

yet in my flesh I shall see God,

whom I shall see for myself,


and my eyes shall behold, and not another.

My heart faints within me! (Job 19:25–27)

Job’s Redeemer came to him at last. The Lord answered out of the whirlwind, and Job said, “Now my eye sees you” (Job 42:5). But we see even more clearly. From where we stand, we see Jesus Christ. We see more of who the Redeemer is. We see more of how he did it. We say more than Job could say: “God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Cor. 4:6). We see. But our lives are still “few of days and full of trouble.”

3 TRUTHS ABOUT SUFFERING

When you face trouble, loss, disability, and pain, how does the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ meet you and comfort you? How does grace and goodness find you, touch you, work with you, and walk with you through deep waters? You probably already know something of the “right answer.” Consider three sweeping truths.

1. God doesn't promise to keep us from suffering

First, it is obvious from both Scripture and experience that God never establishes a no-fly zone keeping all problems away. He never promises that your life will be safe, easy, peaceful, healthy, and prosperous. On the contrary, you and I are certain to experience danger, hardship, turmoil, ill health, and loss. And some of God’s beloved children live lives particularly fraught with physical pain, poverty, isolation, betrayal, and loss. For all of us, death is the inevitable and impending final affliction. We humankind are mariposa lilies in Death Valley after rain. We flourish for a moment. Then the wind passes over us, and we are gone, and no trace remains. That’s the description of God’s blessed and beloved children according to Psalm 103:15–16. And, of course, people who are estranged from God also live brief and troubled lives. We cannot read God’s favor or disfavor by assessing how troubled a person’s life is.

2. God doesn't promise earthly goods

Second, it is obvious from Scripture and experience that we also sample joys and good gifts from God’s hand. The mariposa lily is beautiful in its season. Most people taste something of what is good—familial care perhaps, and daily bread, occasional feasting, a measure of good health, friends and companions, moments of beauty, opportunity to become good at something, committed love, children’s laughter, a job well done, the innocent pleasure of resting after working, and perhaps a restful sleep. There are no guarantees of any particular earthly good, but all good gifts may be gratefully enjoyed.

Some people seem unusually blessed with temporal joys. Job enjoyed unusually good gifts at both the beginning and the end of his life—Satan had accused the Lord of giving Job a cushy life as a bribe for faith. And arrogant people, at odds with God and self-reliant, may also enjoy an easy life of good health, growing wealth, and the admiration of others. That’s how Psalm 73:3–12 describes people who flourish though they deem the Lord irrelevant. We cannot read God’s favor or disfavor by assessing how easy and trouble-free a person’s life is.

3. God works through suffering

Third, it’s obvious from Scripture—and it can become deeply rooted in experience—that God speaks and acts through affliction. As C. S. Lewis says, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”[1] Suffering reveals the genuineness of faith in Christ. And suffering produces genuine faith. For example, when you struggle under affliction, the Psalms become real. True faith deepens, brightens, and grows wise. You grow up in knowing God. When you are the genuine article, you are also and always a work in progress.

Suffering is both the acid test and the catalyst. It reveals and forms faith. It also exposes and destroys counterfeit faith. Afflictions expose illusory hopes invested in imaginary gods. Such disillusionment is a good thing, a severe mercy. The destruction of what is false invites repentance and faith in God as he truly is. Suffering brings a foretaste of the loss of every good thing for those who profess no faith in the one Savior of the world, God’s inexpressible gift, the Lifegiver. Affliction presses on unbelief. It presses unbelief toward bitterness, or despair, or addiction, or ever more desperate illusions, or ever more deadly self-satisfaction—or to a reconsideration of what lasts. To lose what you are living for, when those treasures are vanities, invites comprehensive repentance. We can read God’s favor or disfavor by noticing how a person responds to affliction.

YOU CAN FIND HOPE IN SUFFERING

God’s hand is intimately mixed up in our troubles. Each day will bring you “its own trouble” (Matt. 6:34). Some difficulties are light and momentary—in your face today and forgotten tomorrow. Other hardships last for a season. Some troubles recur and abate cyclically. Other afflictions become chronic. Some woes steadily worsen, progressively bringing pain and disability into your life. And other sufferings arrive with inescapable finality— the death of a dream, the death of a loved one, your own dying and death. But whatever you must face changes in light of the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the promise that you, too, will live. Faith can grow up. You can learn to say with all your heart, in company with a great cloud of witnesses: “We do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:16–17). We can learn to say it and mean it, because it is true.

If you are someone who has taken the book of Psalms to heart, if you’ve pondered the second half of Romans 8, if you’ve worked your way through Job, if you’ve let 1 Peter sink in, then you’ve already got the gist of how God’s grace works in hardships. But there are always new challenges. The wisdom to suffer well is like manna—you must receive nourishment every day. You can’t store it up, though you do become more familiar with how to go out and find what you need for today.

GOD'S ANSWER IN YOUR SUFFERING

How will God actually engage your sufferings with his grace? You may know the right answer in theory. You may have known it firsthand in some difficult situations. And yet you’ll find that you don’t know God well enough or in the exact ways you need to for the next thing that comes your way.

We take God’s hard answer and make it sound like a pat answer. He sets about a long slow answering, but we’re after a quick fix. His answer insists on being lived out over time and into the particulars. We act as if just saying the right words makes it so. God’s answer involves changing you into a different kind of person. But we act as if some truth, principle, strategy, or perspective might simply be incorporated into who we already are. God personalizes his answer on hearts with an uncanny flexibility. But we turn it into a formula: “If you just believe x. If you just do y. If you just remember z.” No important truth ever contains the word “just” in the punch line.

We can make the right answer sound old hat, but I guarantee this: God will surprise you. He will make you stop. You will struggle. He will bring you up short. You will hurt. He will take his time. You will grow in faith and in love. He will deeply delight you. You will find the process harder than you ever imagined—and better. Goodness and mercy will follow you all the days of your life. At the end of the long road you will come home at last. No matter how many times you’ve heard it, no matter how long you’ve known it, no matter how well you can say it, God’s answer will come to mean something better than you could ever imagine.

He answers with himself.

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[1] C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (1940; repr., San Francisco: Harper-SanFrancisco, 2001), 91.

Content taken from God's Grace in Your Suffering by David Powlison, ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

David Powlison (MDiv, Westminster Theological Seminary) is a teacher, a counselor, and the executive director of the Christian Counseling & Educational Foundation. He is also the senior editor of the Journal of Biblical Counseling and the author of Seeing with New Eyes, Good & Angry, and Speaking Truth in Love.

How the Gospel Confronts Violence Against Women

There's a gap between who we were created to be and how most of us live. Theology identifies that gap.

The consequences of that gap hang over much of history and international relations: institutionalized in structures of exploitation and greed, entombed in militarism and war. They are also manifest in atrocities against women.

A theology of personhood identifies our failure as the product of ‘sin’ – a word that has little to do with sex, and everything to do with human responsibility. Sin is described in biblical language as "transgression," or "rebellion against God." In more simple terms, it is a violation of our calling to live within the moral contours of love, which emanates from God.

SIN CORRODES LIFE AND LOVE

Sin breaks the integrity of our human identity as persons in relationship. Its complexity affects so much of our lives. Sin is alienating—it cuts us off from others, ourselves, and God. It is destructive—it tears down and devastates, never builds up. It is distortive—it changes truth into half-truth, untruth and complete lies, so we don’t know what to believe.

Sin is delusory; we live with denial, fool ourselves, and learn self-justification. It is addictive, gripping our lives, creating destructive habits which we cannot do without. It is generational, passing down the lines to third and fourth generation. It is societal, embedding itself in political, economic and social structures which hold sway over others.

When sin corrupts those who have power, the effects on the powerless can be overwhelming, leaving them dehumanized and objectified. The Congolese woman whose sexual organs were mutilated by her gun-touting rapist described the attack as one of "hatred." She was right. The Bangladeshi woman, hit by the police for not going back to the husband who threw acid on her, said it was "evil." She was right too.

Sin eliminates love and fuels loathing. Unless we recognize its power, we cannot repel it. As Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn observed in The Gulag Archipelago, the line "dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being." Sin’s unleashed power destroys those who wield it, as well as those who are its victims. Like Bhasin’s comment about rape, there are no winners. But the losses are incalculable.

At a far deeper level than "biology" or "culture", then, "sin" helps us explain the ubiquity of violence against women. We are responsible. Patriarchal structures are a product of human choice and attitudes; oppression and brutality are rooted in the power sin exercises in human communities.

A Christian theology of sin places accountability for attitudes, culture, and actions firmly on human shoulders; we have to own what we create.

THEOLOGY THAT MOVES BEYOND SIN

Thankfully, this doesn’t leave us with the hopelessness of a doomed humanity. The Christian faith is built on the solid conviction that sin does not have the last word. We are not stuck forever in a defeating spiral of abuse and violence. A theology of human personhood moves beyond sin to a theology of salvation.

Feminist theologians rightly caution against metaphors of salvation that concentrate solely on violence. In fact, in biblical terms, many metaphors are offered with different nuances, yet all focus on Christ. "Penal substitution" is a legal metaphor—Christ taking the punishment we deserve; "redemption" is an economic one, drawing on the notion of Christ’s ransom, or price paid to redeem slaves. "Sacrifice" reaches back to religious practices of death for sin in the Hebrew Scriptures; "healing" is a medical metaphor, focusing on Jesus as the physician who heals the sickness of our sin. "Reconciliation" is a relational concept, describing Jesus restoring our relationship with God, and "Christ as Victor" is a military metaphor, celebrating Christ’s triumph over evil. In his comprehensive study, the theologian Benno van den Toren lists more and shows how these many metaphors help us to grasp the richness of a biblical understanding of salvation and forgiveness.

The biblical narrative is both succinct and inexhaustible. Redemption is brought by Christ’s defeat of evil through God’s love: Christ faces the injustice of the world, the brokenness of our relationships, the brutality of the human race, and dies for sin. To human minds it is unfathomable. Its reality comes home in our own experiences of forgiveness and resurrection.

A THEOLOGY OF HOPE

This means there is always hope for those struggling with oppression and violation. Lives can be restored, pain healed, bondage broken, the past left behind. Repentance and change can transform even repressive structures.

Redemptive living affects gender relations as it affects everything else. This was true even in the earliest times. The Gospels give us a glimpse of how Jesus cuts open cultural norms, hierarchies, stereotypes, and the low status of women, and injects the reality of equal significance before God.

• A woman is about to be stoned for having illicit sex (not her partner, although the Torah rule includes them both), Jesus challenges her prosecutors about their own sins, and she is freed (John 8).
• He heals a woman struggling with menstrual problems, who touches his clothing, in direct defiance of the laws of menstrual hygiene. She makes him ritually "unclean," yet he ignores that and commends her faith (Luke 8).
• Jesus asks a despised and much-divorced Samaritan woman at the well for a drink and discloses to her his identity as Messiah (John 4).
• He accepts tears and kisses from a former prostitute who perfumes his feet and dries them with her hair in gratitude for her own new freedom, and rebukes the poor hospitality of his hosts (Luke 7).
• He banters with a Canaanite woman about the primacy of the Jews, and heals her daughter (Mark 7).
• He brings life to a widow’s only son, recognizing her social vulnerability as well as her devastation at his loss (Luke 7).
• He notices a struggling spondylitis victim and heals her, defying legalist authorities (Luke 13).

GOSPEL INSPIRATION FOR WOMEN

Women are included among Jesus’ closest friends and followers: Joanna, the wife of Herod’s household manager, Susanna, Mary Magdalene, whom he releases from a life of emotional turmoil, Mary and Martha whose home he visits regularly. His stories often relate to women’s domestic lives—sweeping rooms, baking bread, looking for lost coins, being pregnant, facing authorities and seeking justice. He points out the generosity of a poor widow and affirms mothers who bring their children to be blessed, despite his impatient disciples. When dying in great pain, he commits the care of his mother to John, his disciple. His women disciples come to anoint his body and are heralded as the first witnesses of his resurrection.

It is not surprising that, through the centuries, women have found their own identity and significance in following Christ. As both victims and advocates, they draw inspiration from the Gospels to fight injustice and bring transformation.

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Known for her work as a scholar, author, speaker, and journalist, Elaine Storkey has been a tireless advocate for the marginalized, both as the president of Tearfund, and then as cofounder of Restored, an international organization seeking to end violence against women. She is the author of numerous books, including Created or Constructed and What’s Right with Feminism.

Adapted from Scars Across Humanity by Elaine Storkey. Copyright (c) 2018 by Elaine Storkey. Published by InterVarsity Press, Downers Grove, IL. www.ivpress.com

One Among Many

Have you ever “unfollowed” one of your Christian friends on Facebook because you couldn’t handle their political views? Or maybe you received criticism because of who you voted for in the last election. Have you ever found yourself longing for the good old days in the worship service when the songs were recognizable and the volume was bearable? Do they really have to sing the same choruses over and again? Or can you recall a situation when you felt uncomfortable with “those kind of people” when you noticed them in a church service, people different from you in some significant way? Perhaps you thought they would be more comfortable in a service that was designed for their own kind. Politics, worship styles, and personal biases are just some of the challenges church folk face as they try to navigate their personal identity along with their membership in the body of Christ. The lens that the Bible uses to help us understand ourselves is both individual and collective. The church is one body made of many members (1 Cor. 12:27). We cannot see ourselves as mere individuals. Yet we do not lose our individual identity in Christ (1 Cor. 7:18–20). In the New Testament, the designation “temple of the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor. 6:19 ESV) is ascribed both to the individual believer and the entire faith community. The church is a collective by nature. The bond that knits individual believers together is spiritual. We are joined to one another because we are united with Christ. Unfortunately, this spiritual reality does not guarantee either a cohesive culture or a community that expresses mutual concern for its individual members.

It’s no accident that the epistle that speaks most clearly of our identity as one among many was addressed to the sharply divided church in Corinth. It alerts us to the pitfalls we face in wrestling with our identity. Some in Corinth overidentified with their leaders in a way that set them against others. They even identified themselves with Christ in a way that set them against other members of Christ’s body. In order to have a biblically shaped identity, we must learn to hold our individual identity in balance with our corporate identity. And Paul shows us a way to do this in his letter to Philemon. We must know when to subordinate the particularities of our individual sense of self to our collective identity as part of the body of Christ.

DIVISIONS IN THE BODY IN CORINTH

One of the many problems the Corinthian church wrestled with was an overidentification with their Roman social identity. We see this unhealthy tendency in many of their actions. They were dividing around key personalities (1 Cor. 1:12). They over-relied on the world’s wisdom (1 Cor. 2:5). They had an inordinate trust in Roman officials (1 Cor. 2:6–9). They had a misplaced confidence in Roman law courts, which were central in enforcing Roman identity (1 Cor. 6:1–11). And their social hierarchy relied on patronage relationships, the primary economic model in antiquity (1 Cor. 3:3–4; 4:8; 11:17–34). Civic identity had become a problem for the congregation, which resulted in “divisions” within the body (1 Cor. 11:18). This was so much the case that Paul had to ask, “Is Christ divided?” (1 Cor. 1:13).

We see Paul’s goal for the community in 1 Corinthians 1:10: “I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought.” To accomplish this, Paul addresses issues related to identity in chapters 1–4, and then he instructs the Corinthians on issues related to individual ethics in chapters 5–10. In chapters 11–16, he offers guidance in the formation of the group’s ethos. Paul recognized that identity influences individual ethics, which when expressed in a group setting also produce a group ethos. Leaders seeking to maintain or restore unity in a church need to sustain a balanced focus on these three areas: identity, ethics, and ethos.

Paul focuses on the transformation of the group ethos in the last part of the letter, and after addressing issues related to worship practices, he writes, “Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ” (1 Cor. 12:12). is may be another example of Corinthian Roman social identity causing problems in the church. e imagery of a group of people as a body was well-known in Roman politics. Menenius Agrippa used it to reestablish a hierarchical relationship between the senate and the plebeians. His point was that each segment of society had a role to play and should remain in their social stations for the common good. His purpose was to maintain the existing order for the ruling elites and to tell the masses they had no choice but to submit to this order.

In light of the problems in Corinth associated with Roman political identity, it’s likely that just such a status-based approach to communal life had taken root in the church, especially when one considers the mistreatment of the poor at the Lord’s Supper (1 Cor. 11:17–34). Paul, as an intercultural mediator, took this well-known imagery and reused it to point out the way status reversals are the norm within the church. Those who were undesirables among the Romans were given honor in the “body” (1 Cor. 12:22–24). It is likely that the problems associated with tongues were also linked to social strati cation (1 Cor. 14:18–20). Paul identified with the higher-status group initially but then switched to o er a transformed approach to worship. “In declaring this,” Kar Lim explains, “Paul is also instructing those who perceived that they might have higher social status because of the possession of the gift of tongues to give up their rights to speak for the sake of the weaker brother so that there would be no schism in the body (1 Cor. 12:25).” By doing this, Paul is marking identity boundaries for the group and noting that they are different than the status-based ones evident in the broader culture. The identity of the group as the body of Christ is made evident through the inclusion of the weak and poor, those the broader culture would set aside as deplorable.

IDENTIFICATION WITH CHRIST

Paul emphasized the close connection between Christ and those who claim to follow Him. This may harken to his experience on the Damascus road where the risen Christ associated the members of the church with Himself (Acts 9:1–5). Identification with Christ refers to the position every believer has in Jesus on the basis of His work and the appropriation of it by the individual believer’s faith. This is accomplished by the Holy Spirit as an act of divine grace. Paul describes it in 1 Corinthians 12:13 when he writes, “For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink.” And in Galatians 3:27, he describes this experience as being “baptized into Christ.”

We are united with Christ (John 15:1–6; Gal. 2:20; Eph. 2:6). Scripture’s teaching on our union with Christ is crucial for the formation of a salient identity. Theologian J. Todd Billings describes it this way: “Union with Christ . . . entails the giving of a new identity such that in Christ, forgiveness and new life are received through the Spirit. Union with Christ involves abiding in Christ the Vine. It means that through the Spirit, sinners are adopted in the household of God as co-heirs with Christ.” Those who are in Christ have at their disposal the cognitive, evaluative, and emotional resources to overcome a life of failure, guilt, and frustration—both personally and with others (1 Cor. 2:10–16).

The last phrase, “with others,” is especially important. Union with Christ is not just a personal doctrine. It is also a social one. As a result of being united to Christ the Head, all individual believers—members of Christ’s body—are united to each other. Naomi Ellemers recognizes that the three components mentioned above (cognitive, evaluative, and emotional) contribute to a sense of social identity: “a cognitive component (a cognitive awareness of one’s membership in a social group— self-categorization), an evaluative component (a positive or negative value connotation attached to this group membership—group self-esteem), and an emotional component (a sense of emotional involvement with the group—affective commitment).” These three components are important to keep in mind as we seek to uphold the unity of the church while maintaining and honoring our respective differences. Too often, union with Christ is seen only as a theological point and not a social one. It is more than a point of belief. It is also a way of life.

Seeing union with Christ only as a doctrine often results in the fossilization of Christian identity. Fossilization occurs when theological constructs designed to address earlier cultural settings are transported to a different era without proper contextualization. The way to overcome fossilization is to translate union with Christ in a way that retains its essential content while restating it in contemporary terms. Union with Christ doesn’t require only one way of living. Christian identity adapts to various cultural circumstances. William S. Campbell notes that in-Christ language is metaphorical. But on what basis is the believer’s being in Christ or in union with Christ construed as a metaphor rather than a reality? Being in Christ is conceptual (lending coherence to Paul’s writing) and also contributes to shaping these new realities based on existing ways of acting, knowing, and communicating. In this way, in Christ becomes a “metaphor we live by.”

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J. BRIAN TUCKER (BS, Lee College; MA, Liberty University; MDiv, Michigan Theological Seminary; DMin, Michigan Theological Seminary; PhD, University of Wales, Lampeter) is Professor of New Testament at Moody Theological Seminary and Honorary Research Fellow at the University of Wales, Trinity Saint David in the United Kingdom.  In his spare time, he enjoys science fiction and playing and listening to jazz.

JOHN KOESSLER serves as chair of the pastoral studies department at Moody Bible Institute, where he has served on the faculty since 1994. He is an award-winning author who has written thirteen books and numerous magazine articles. He writes the monthly “Theology Matters” column for Today in the Word and is a frequent workshop leader at the Moody Pastor’s Conference. Prior to joining the Moody faculty, John served as a pastor of Valley Chapel in Green Valley, Illinois, for nine years. He is married to Jane and they live in Munster, Indiana.

Taken from All Together Different: Upholding the Church's Unity While Honoring Our Individual Identities by J. Brian Tucker and John Koessler (©2018). Published by Moody Publishers. Used by permission.

How Jesus Fulfills the Roles of Moses

Moses is one of the most beloved figures in Israel’s history. He was the reluctant leader who led the people out of Egypt after they suffered in slavery for centuries. He was the one who led them to the region of Sinai where he served as their mediator when the Lord ratified a covenant with them. He was the one who stood beside them when most of the nation refused to enter the Promised Land and had to traverse the Sinai wilderness for forty years as punishment. In many ways, he was the premier leader of Israel, even with all his faults. His character became so respected that even Scripture itself testifies that Moses was the humblest man of his day (Num. 12:3).

But as great as Moses was, he was simply a foretaste, a precursor, to Jesus in his role as prophet, deliverer, and lawgiver. Let’s consider how Jesus fulfills each of these roles first initiated by Moses.

THE ROLES OF MOSES IN THE EXODUS STORY

1. Prophet

One clear title that can be ascribed to Moses is that of a prophet. Throughout the Old Testament, prophets spoke on behalf of God. Whether through words spoken or written, prophets were known for their famous line, “Thus says the Lord.” They weren't just some Joe off the street. No one could arbitrarily volunteer to speak for the Lord. They had to be directly called and selectively empowered by the Spirit to prophesy (1 Sam. 19:20; 2 Chron. 20:14; Ezek. 11:5); be subject to God’s command (Deut. 18:18-22); sometimes perform accompanying signs; and prove one’s authenticity by seeing one’s prophecies come to pass (1 Sam. 10:3-11; 1 Kgs. 13:5; 2 Kgs.19:29, 20:9; Jer. 28:15-17; Ezek. 33:33). Though Moses claimed to be a poor speaker, God called him to be his mouthpiece.

2. Deliverer

Moses played a second major role as a deliverer. In some ways, this was Moses’ most pertinent role because the need for such a person is stressed immediately in the Book of Exodus. The Hebrew people were in bondage. They were beaten, whipped, and overworked, with no hope in sight. Yet even though Israel did not expect Egypt to relent, the Lord provided a person they least expected to fight for their cause.

Moses’ arrival in Egypt and his position in the Egyptian hierarchy put him in a position to deliver the Israelites. God told him he would be sent to Pharaoh so that he could bring Israel, the Lord’s people, out of Egypt (Ex. 3:10). Though he wouldn’t do so in his own power, it is through Moses’ leadership that the Lord showed his might over Egypt and redeemed his people. Moses delivered Israel in the sense that his answer to the Lord’s call on his life was the means through which Israel was rescued from the clutches of slavery.

3. Lawgiver

Finally, Scripture presents Moses as Israel’s lawgiver. This responsibility emerges after the Exodus, when Moses is adjudicating disputes among the people, serving as an elder-judge once they embarked on their journey to the Promised Land. Eventually, the responsibilities increased at such an alarming rate that his father-in-law advised him to delegate some of his duties to qualified elders among the people. That way, Moses had a buffer so he wouldn’t be overwhelmed with every complaint among the masses.

Then, as they approached Mount Sinai, Moses was the one who brought the first draft of Israel’s Bill of Rights—the Ten Commandments—before the people. These rules served as the fundamental basis for the later drafting of the entire Law, which was Israel’s official constitution as God’s newly redeemed nation (cf. Ex. 20:1-17).

Moses became the bridge between God’s heavenly court and the nation of Israel. In a sense, then, Moses’s role as a lawgiver tied his other roles of deliverer and prophet together. By revealing God’s commandments to the people, Moses proclaimed God’s words like a prophet and gave them an outline for how they could have deliverance from the slavery of sin.

JESUS AND THE ROLES OF MOSES

Because Moses was a towering figure in the history of Israel, it’s only fitting that the New Testament has much to say about how his ministry parallels and is even transcended by, Jesus Christ. The easiest way to see this is by simply observing how Jesus replicates the actions of Moses––he served as Israel’s premiere prophet, deliverer, and lawgiver. Let’s look at a few examples.

1. Jesus is the final Prophet

The prophetic office is a great place to begin considering how Moses and Jesus overlap in the biblical story. For starters, Jesus was like Moses in that he met all the criteria one would look for in a prophet. This is not to insinuate that he was merely a prophet, though. That was a mistake many in Jesus’s day made. He was the divine Son of God incarnate, the Messiah of Israel.

At the same time, this does not mean he failed to be the true and better prophet of Israel. Indeed, he was the ultimate prophet. As opposed to being one to whom the “Word of the Lord” came, as it did to Moses and all the other Old Testament prophets, Jesus, as the divine Son, was the Word itself. He embodied the final word of the Father as the Savior who was sent to bring salvation to all those who believe (Jn. 1:1-2; Heb. 1:1-2).

Jesus also acted like other prophets through his words and actions. He announced woes of judgment against unrepentant sinners, while at other times offering words of encouragement to those in need. He sometimes performed parabolic actions to illustrate a point about Israel’s condition, like cursing a fig tree that bore no fruit or kicking people out of the Temple who were consumed with commerce instead of prayer and worship. Likewise, the Gospels are full of accounts where Jesus performed miracles––so much so that his followers asked him to be like the great prophet Elijah and call down fire from heaven (Lk. 9:52-55).

Finally, Jesus predicted future events like prophets often did. Predicting his death and resurrection and the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem (while also comparing the two) is the most striking example.

2. Jesus is the final Deliverer

The New Testament identifies Jesus as the deliverer of a new Exodus. Moses was called to lead the first exodus so God’s people could escape slavery from Pharaoh, their cruel Egyptian taskmaster. Nevertheless, there was a more powerful dictator that plagued the lives of the Israelites—their own rebellious hearts. The people of Israel were sinners whether they were in Egypt or the Promised Land. So even though Moses could lead the people out of Egypt, he couldn’t mend their spiritual brokenness.

Therefore, a deliverer who could do this would far surpass Moses, and this is why the New Testament often describes Jesus in this way. Israel’s redemption from Egypt in the Exodus became a sort of prelude to a future deliverance from Satan’s kingdom and the corruption of sin.

More parallels with the Exodus continue as Jesus’ ministry launches. Some of them begin at Jesus’s baptism where he is identified as the Father’s beloved Son, which echoes the same title ascribed to Israel when Moses was summoned at the burning bush (Ex. 4:22). Afterwards, Jesus, the true Israelite, was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. Satan tempted him with food when he had been fasting for forty days. But whereas Israel complained about food and water, Jesus chose to wait patiently for his Father’s provision to meet his needs.

This portrayal of Jesus as being faithful where Israel failed continues throughout Matthew, Mark, and Luke, especially in light of the prophet Isaiah’s contrast between Israel as a rebellious servant of the Lord as opposed to an unidentified suffering servant who serves the Lord faithfully (Isa. 52-53). Jesus is identified as the suffering servant who endures punishment for the sake of his people; brings the acceptable year of the Lord where Israel finds deliverance from physical maladies, death, and sin; and dispenses the Spirit to his people.

Jesus is greater than Moses because the exodus he pioneers is a serious upgrade from the first one.

3. Jesus is the final Lawgiver

Finally, the New Testament sometimes used Mosaic overtones to describe Jesus as a type of lawgiver. For instance, when we read of Jesus being on hills or mountains, the event of Moses delivering the Law seems to be in the background. One example comes in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5-7). Here Jesus is offering insights into the kingdom he represents, just as Moses gave instruction to Israel on how they were to behave as God’s redeemed nation. Jesus gives credence to the Law when he says he has come to do something no one had ever been able to do—keep all of its moral demands, as well as fulfill all of its expectations.

Never in this sermon does Jesus appeal to an explicit quotation in the Old Testament and contradict it. Everything Jesus taught was in harmony with the moral fiber of the Law that Moses delivered to Israel. Yet in this sermon, Jesus criticized things people “had heard that had been said.” When he did, his response was always “but I say unto you.”

The other mountaintop experience that carries Mosaic overtones is the Transfiguration. After revealing his divine glory to three of his disciples and having an astounding meeting with Moses and Elijah, Jesus returned to the bottom of the mountain to see that his disciples were having trouble performing an exorcism. Just as Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments only to find Israel committing idolatry and debauchery, Jesus came down from his own heavenly encounter to be faced with the weak faith and failure of his disciples. As the one with authority, Jesus then cast out the demon and provided instruction for his followers on how to be effective servants when faced with similar ordeals in the future.

In both of these events, Jesus provided instruction for his listeners that carried authority because he was the one who spoke them.

FINAL SALVATION IN JESUS

Moses no doubt holds a major spot in Israel’s hall of fame. He is beloved as the nation’s first great prophet, its great deliverer through the Exodus, and the solemn lawgiver who stood between heaven and earth at Mount Sinai. Yet as cherished as he was and as crucial a role that he played in biblical history, his accomplishments ultimately directed people to a greater prophet, deliverer, and lawgiver who would be the Savior, not of Israel from Egypt, but of believing Jews and Gentiles from sin and death.

As impressive as defeating Pharaoh and Egypt was, making a spectacle of Satan and his demonic hoards by defeating the curse of death was far greater. In Moses’s case, his greatness as a leader was only a precursor to the supremacy of the Savior. John the Gospel writer was right when he said that while Moses gave the Law, God’s final saving grace and truth came through Jesus Christ (Jn. 1:17).

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This article is adapted from They Spoke of Me: How Jesus Unlocks the Old Testament, Rainer Publishing (January 26, 2018).

Brandon D. Smith works with the Christian Standard Bible, is an editor for Bibles & Reference at Holman Bible Publishers, and co-hosts the Word Matters podcast. He is currently writing his Ph.D. dissertation on a Trinitarian reading of the Book of Revelation under the supervision of Michael Bird. He also serves as Editorial Director for the Center for Baptist Renewal. You can read his blog at https://secundumscripturas.com

Marriage Is Different—Not Better Than Singleness

The idol of marriage weighs most heavily in my heart when I am overwhelmed with life,stressed with work, or feeling lonely in my community, because in those moments it’s easy for me to believe that a husband would fix so many of my problems, that he would lighten the load I’m struggling to carry. And while there’s some sprinkling of truth in this belief because there’s a line between believing things would be different and believing it would be better. And this distinction, of marriage being a better option than singleness, harms the health of the church. “People who are married might feel like they have to view marriage as superior to singleness, not just different from singleness, because they feel like they have to justify their marriages,” my friend Morgan says. “But what if they rushed into their marriages? What if there were impure motives or they were responding to family pressure and now regret it? Or they have doubts regarding their own marriage?”

If I’m doubting I made the right choice, it’s easier for me to make peace with myself if I can find the weaknesses in the other options I didn’t take. When I was at Liberty University my first year, I wondered if I chose the wrong college (because when you shove three eighteen-year-olds into a small dorm room and make them share a sink, one is forced to cling to the cross). There was a smaller school in my home state that I was constantly drawn back to when things at LU weren’t going well. In order to soothe my discontent, I would look up the other school online and criticize it in my mind: Look how small that gymnasium is. Can you imagine showering in there? I bet that girl is being paid to smile.

But here’s the thing—we don’t have to keep playing these roles. You don’t have to break down singleness in order to feel good about marriage. I don’t have to diminish the value of marriage in order to accept my single state. My happiness does not mitigate, or lessen, your happiness. And your identity is not a threat to my identity.

We don’t have to keep parading around marriages as the ultimate good in order to justify our undue emphasis on them. And for all of our efforts here, marriages are still falling apart. Abuse is still occurring within Christian homes, and divorces are still taking place. It seems that our idolization of marriages has done little to actually help them.

I want to share an e-mail with you from a male friend of mine who is married. He wrote it to provide a glimpse into the struggles of married life, to cut out the marriage PR. I hope that by reading it you’ll see what I see: that marriage comes with its own struggles. That marriage, like singleness, is different. It’s not better or worse; it’s a choice that can be made, a path that can be chosen, that has its own bumps and knocks along the way. And once all the flash is stripped away, it can be filled with suffering too.

The simple fact is, many, many Christians are unhappy and frustrated and even despairing in their marriages. But because of hang-ups or fear of how they’ll be viewed or financial reasons or just plain lying to themselves, they feel unable to do anything about it or get help for it. This makes it very difficult for them to create deeper relationships with single people, because it’s hard for a single person to understand that specific type of despair.

Marriage can be very ugly because it can make you feel like it takes some of the best parts of yourself and stomps all over them. It can turn perfectly good days into terrible ones because of stresses that have nothing to do with you and make no sense to you. It swallows your time and energy and effort. It can block you from things you’d like to pursue, ideas you’d like to try, risks you’d like to take.

I share this with you because it’s easy for singles to feel that they are on the outside looking in . . . lonely creatures peeking through the window into the warm, cozy lives of families. And that feeling is perfectly legitimate, because being intimately loved is certainly a wonderful thing, and it kills me that wonderful people like you aren’t having that experience.

But I think the other side is that sometimes (often!) married people feel as if they are the ones inside looking out: at freedom, and at opportunities for a loving relationship, and at a much more actualized life. They feel trapped in constant arguments, incredibly boring routines, financial inflexibility, constant judgment, and little to no hope that things will change. When they meet an attractive member of the opposite sex, they can’t spend time getting to know that person. When the opportunity for an adventure with friends comes up, it’s very difficult to make it happen because of the needs of the family. When the church needs money or help or volunteers, often one spouse is willing but the other is not.

I share these things because too many singles I know are hung up on the idea that marriage will somehow be better. And for some people, it is. But for some it is not. For me it is significantly harder. I wish I had known more.

Not all marriages are rosy bright, and I so appreciated my friend’s honesty in sharing this insight. As C. S. Lewis says, idols always break the hearts of their worshipers.[i] I’m not implying my friend is in this position because he worshiped his wife, but I am saying that marriage is hard enough already—why put even more pressure on that situation by setting it up for failure?

Perhaps the greatest rebuke to the idol of marriage is found in Luke 14:26: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” We all appreciate the support of family, and those who are married love theirs very much, but we must comparatively hate them. We must love them less than we love Christ. Our joy in these relationships must pale in comparison to, must be completely consumed in, our love of God. That’s what we’re called to here.

When dedication to one’s family is being praised from the pulpit as the highest virtue, we’ve missed something. And if we continue to emphasize saving and restoring marriages at the cost of ignoring or diminishing singleness, there will be very few marriages left to save.

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[i] C. S. Lewis, “The Weight of Glory,” Verber, http://www.verber.com/mark/xian/weight-of-glory.pdf.

Excerpt from Party of One: Truth, Longing, and the Subtle Art of Singleness. Used with permission.

Joy Beth Smith is the author of Party of One: Truth, Longing, and the Subtle Art of Singleness (Thomas Nelson). Find her on Twitter @JBsTwoCents

Hear God’s Voice and Encounter His Presence in Your Bible Reading

Tell me about the book you’re reading. You’re only a few words in, but you already know a fair bit about it. You know it’s about the Bible—the title is a bit of a giveaway. You might remember the author and publisher. You probably read the blurb on the back cover. Maybe you ran your eyes over the contents page. At some point you examined it—perhaps in the store when you bought it or when someone gave it to you. If you ordered it online, then maybe you read some customer reviews. You can see it and feel it. Some people like the smell of new books, so you may even have sniffed it . . . now most of you have. After you’ve read a couple of chapters you’ll have an idea whether you like it or not. And if you make it to the end, you’ll be able to tell other people about it in an informed way. It’s easy to examine a book and find out about it. You can investigate it and interrogate it.

Now, I don’t want to alarm you, but there are almost certainly some bacteria on your book. If it’s any comfort, they were probably transferred onto the book (or e-reader) from your hands. Can you tell me about the bacteria on your book? That’s not so straightforward. You can’t see, hear or feel them. Hopefully you can’t smell them either, and I don’t recommend trying to taste them. Nevertheless, with a powerful microscope or some chemical tests, you could find out something about them. Like a book, they’re susceptible to scrutiny.

What about God? Tell me about God.

You might have all sorts of ideas about God. But what are they based on? You can’t see God through a telescope or under a microscope. You can’t go and knock on his door to ask him some questions. You can’t discover him in the jungle or on the ocean floor. He’s not like other subjects of study. He’s not susceptible to scrutiny.

For one thing, he’s a spirit. He has no body and therefore no physical presence. Even more significantly, he’s outside our universe. The Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland is the world’s largest machine and largest experiment feeding results into the largest network of computers. The irony of all these superlatives is that it’s designed to detect the smallest things we know about—subatomic particles. It’s detecting the aftereffects of particle collisions. But no apparatus could be constructed to “find” God, because God doesn’t exist within our material world. What would our experiment look for? In 2012 the Hadron Collider found evidence for the Higgs boson, a particle that had previously only been postulated. It was nicknamed “the God particle.” But it wasn’t a “piece” of God or evidence of his existence.

God is beyond our comprehension and outside our field of study. We might postulate his existence as the most likely explanation of effects we can see—things like the complexity of creation or answers to prayer. But we could never prove our hypothesis. We can’t stick God under a microscope or in a test tube.

So left to ourselves, we would remain totally in the dark when it comes to God. We have no way of bridging the gap between us and God.

So my request that you tell me about God should be an impossible task. The only way we can ever know anything about him is if he communicates to us. God himself must bridge the gap. We can’t study him. But maybe he can talk to us.

And God is not silent.

Knowing God is not completely without parallel in our world. Suppose I said, “Tell me about yourself.” Here’s a subject you do know something about. In fact, arguably you’re better informed on this topic than anyone else. The more you tell me about yourself, the more I’ll know about you.

But wait a moment. Do you really want to spill the beans to me? After all, we’ve only just met. It’s up to you what you tell me. How much I discover about your dreams, hopes, ideas, beliefs, desires, and plans all depends on how much you tell me. I can’t control what information comes my way. Only torturers can force information from people, and even then the reliability of that information is doubtful. In this sense the speaker is sovereign when we communicate.

It’s the same with God. We can know about him because he speaks to us. But God remains in control of the process. We talk about “grasping” an idea. But we don’t “grasp” God—not even when he reveals himself.

How does God talk to us? . . .

Let’s come back to the bacteria on your book. What would it take to ask them to get off? You could try saying, “Please get off my book.” Presumably the sound waves would reach them. But bacteria don’t have ears. Can they even sense sound waves? And even if they could, what language do they speak? Even if you could find a common language, do they know what a book is? In so many ways the gulf between you and your bacteria is too big to bridge. It’s a picture of the problem facing any attempt at communication between God and humanity.

And yet God in his greatness and grace does speak to us. In fact, he speaks in many different ways: in creation, in history, in the Bible, through preaching, and supremely through the person of his Son. People sometimes ask, “If God exists, why doesn’t he reveal himself more clearly?” But God is revealing himself all the time. The real question is, “Will you listen?”

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Taken from Bible Matters by Tim Chester. Copyright (c) 2018 by Tim Chester. Published by InterVarsity Press, Downers Grove, IL. www.ivpress.com

Tim Chester is a pastor of Grace Church in Boroughbridge, North Yorkshire, and a faculty member with the Acts 29 Oak Hill Academy. He was previously research and policy director for Tearfund and tutor in missiology at Cliff College. Tim is the author of over thirty books, including The Message of Prayer, Closing the Window, Good News to the Poor, and A Meal with Jesus. Visit Tim’s website and read his blog or follow him on Twitter.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ and Sex

The fact is that many Christians are in the midst of some kind of personal sexual struggle or dysfunction. They know theologically that Jesus died for their sins and that embedded in his death are the promises of forgiveness and freedom, but they simply do not know how to get from where they are to where they need to be. They know that the hope of defeating sin is the reason Jesus came, but sexual immorality isn’t just sin—you know, like lying or cheating. It’s different. It’s private. It’s shame-inducing. It’s just not something you talk about. In reality they stare at the empty cross of Jesus, and for them it seems that’s exactly what it is—empty. It’s empty of hope and help for them, so they live in silence. They minimize the depth of their struggle, and they determine that tomorrow they’ll do better. Or they’ve already given up and given in, and they hope that in the end Jesus will forgive them.

In a world that has gone sexually insane, we have to do better. We have to quit being silent. We have to help one another connect the transforming power of the gospel of Jesus Christ to sex and to sexual sin and struggle. The silence must be broken. Biblical hope must be given. People need to be called out of hiding. People need to believe and act as if change really is possible. More of us need to experience the forgiveness, freedom, hope, and courage of the gospel.

So let’s look at sex and sexual struggle through the hope-stimulating lens of the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ.

1. YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE ASHAMED THAT YOU'RE A SEXUAL BEING

We have to start here. The cross teaches us that sex is not a problem; it is a gift. Jesus didn’t suffer and die to free you from sex but to free you from sexual sin. You must never give way to cursing your sexuality, because the same One who wisely created your sexuality came to be your Savior. He didn’t come to fill you with guilt because you are sexual but to free you from your bondage to and guilt from sexual sin. Your sexuality points to his glory as Creator and to the amazing creature you are. It is something that the cross allows you to celebrate, because it is the grace of the cross that gives you the power to keep sex in its proper place in your heart and in your life.

Your problem and mine is not primarily that we are sexual beings; it’s primarily that we tend to love the creation more than the Creator so that we use God’s good gifts in ways they were not created to be used. Sexual sin and struggle are not first a matter of what we do with our body but a matter of what we do with our heart. The struggle for sexual purity is not so much a struggle with sex but with the proneness of our hearts to wander, that is, with the tendency of every sinner to look for fulfillment of heart where it cannot be found. As long as you are looking for life in the creation, you won’t be seeking it in the Creator. Sex is a good and beautiful thing, but desire for this good thing becomes a bad and dangerous thing when it becomes a heart-controlling thing. The idolatry of the sinful heart is the problem. So when you ask sex to satisfy you, you have to go back again and again because the satisfaction of sex is powerful but frighteningly short-lived. Remember that asking the creation to be your savior always ends in addiction of some kind.

You don’t have to be ashamed of your sexuality, but you must guard your heart as you live out your sexuality.

2. YOU DON'T HAVE TO DENY THAT YOU'RE A SINNER

So much of what propels personal and cultural sexual insanity is active, regular, long-term self-denial. Self-righteousness is simply insane itself, but it’s there in all of us. The grace of the cross of Jesus Christ means we don’t have to deny reality anymore. We don’t have to work to make ourselves and others think we are righteous. Grace means we do not have to be afraid of what will be uncovered or exposed about us, because whatever is revealed has already been fully covered by the blood of Jesus.

Facing the depth of your sexual struggle is possible because you do not face that struggle alone; your Savior is ever with you. You and I must remember that self-denial is never a doorway to personal change. The grace of Jesus Christ welcomes you to live in the courage of honesty, knowing that there is grace for every dark and dangerous thing that will be exposed. The way you deal with your struggle for sexual purity changes when you embrace the fact that grace means you don’t have to deny your struggle anymore. But there is one more point to be made here. The Bible never presents sexual sin as being of a different nature than other sins. Sexual sin may have different social and interpersonal consequences, but it is sin, no more no less. In Romans 1 sexual sin is listed along with envy, gossip, and deceit, even with something as mundane as disobedience to parents. That is why this is important. If you begin to think that sexual sin is sin of a different kind or nature, it is logical then to wonder if the same biblical promises, hopes, and provisions apply to it.

3. YOU DON'T HAVE TO HIDE IN GUILT AND FEAR

Hiding from someone whom you say you love is never a good sign. Hiding because of guilt and fear is a red flag that something has gone very wrong. Hiding a problem seldom leads to a solution for the problem. The cross of Jesus Christ welcomes you out of hiding, because on the cross Jesus endured your punishment, he carried your guilt, he bore your shame, and he endured your rejection. He did all this so that you wouldn’t have to hide from God. He did all this so that in your sin, weakness, and failure you could run toward a holy God and not away from him. He did all this so that you could live in the light and not lurk around in the darkness. He did all this so that you would find mercy and grace in your time of need. So step out of hiding and reach out for help. Your Savior endured the rejection you and I should have received so that even in our failure, we will never see God turn and walk away from us. Now, that’s grace!

4. YOU DON'T HAVE TO FIGHT YOUR BATTLE ALONE

The dark secrecy of sexual sin can make you feel alienated, misunderstood, rejected, and alone. You can fall into thinking that no one will ever understand, that no one will ever want to be near you or help you. If you are God’s child, it is impossible for you to be alone. Let me make this distinction: it’s not impossible for you to feel alone, but it is impossible for you to be alone. You and I must distinguish between the power of what we feel and the realities that should shape the way we act and respond.

Here’s where the message of Scripture is so incredibly encouraging. God’s greatest gift to us is the gift of himself. What changes the whole ball game is his presence. The wisdom principles of Scripture wouldn’t be worth the paper they are printed on if it weren’t for the powerful rescuing and transforming presence of the Redeemer. Without him with us, for us, and in us, we wouldn’t understand the principles, we wouldn’t desire to live inside them, and we wouldn’t have the power to do so if we wanted to. Our hope for change is a person, the Lord Almighty.

God has also placed us in his church because he knows that our journey to sexual purity is a community project. We were not designed to know ourselves clearly, to identify the places where change is needed, and to fight for that change by ourselves. If you want to be sexually pure, you need people to help you see yourself in ways that sin blinds you to. If you want to gain ground, you need people who will confront you when you are rebelling and encourage you when you are weak. And most of all, you need people who will remind you again and again of the powerful presence of your Redeemer and the lavish provisions of his grace.

5. YOU DON'T HAVE TO QUESTION GOD'S PATIENT LOVE

Could there be any greater encouragement for us as we are confronted with the fickleness of our hearts, our weakness in the face of temptations, the rebellion that causes us to do what is wrong even when we know it is wrong, and the arrogance of thinking we know better than God, than the gospel declaration that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus? God’s love is yours forever, not because you will be faithful but because he is. God’s love is constant, not because you earned it in your righteousness but because God knew it was the only hope for you in your unrighteousness. God’s love never wanes even when your allegiance to him does, because it is not based on your performance but on his character.

If you think that God’s love is at stake, that he will withdraw it when you mess up, then in your moment of failure you will run from him and not to him. But if you really believe in your deepest moment of sexual foolishness, weakness, failure, or rebellion that when you run to him, he will greet you with arms of redemptive love, then it makes no sense to hide from him or to separate yourself from his care. Ultimately, in your struggle with sex, your love for God is never your hope. Hope is to be found only ever in his love for you. Since he loves you, he wants what’s best for you and will work to defeat the enemies of your soul until the last enemy has been defeated and your struggle is no more.

You see, only the gospel of Jesus has the power to bring sanity to sexuality in a world gone crazy and, within this power, the potential for real, lasting, personal transformation. Yes, you can live a God-honoring sexual life in a world gone crazy. Yes, you really can.

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Content taken from Sex in a Broken World: How Christ Redeems What Sin Distorts by Paul David Tripp, ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

Paul David Tripp is the president of Paul Tripp Ministries, a nonprofit organization. He has been married for many years to Luella and they have four grown children. For more information and resources visit paultrippministries.org.

The Importance of Enough

Our failure to fast from crass consumerism stems from our failure to say “Enough.” For those hooked on the drugs of materialism and consumption, there is no such thing as enough. Instead, our mantra is “More,” a command that by definition cannot be satisfied. Fasting from anything is a sign that we are denying “more” and saying “enough.”

But the reason we have trouble saying “enough” in the first place is because of the appetites of our flesh and desires of our heart: our spiritual senses. Just because we fast from things that do not satisfy our spiritual senses does not mean we have tamed our senses or that they somehow go into hibernation. In order to truly say “enough” we have to experience satisfaction of our spiritual senses. And the only satisfaction that truly satisfies is Jesus Christ himself.

In the middle of the Beatitudes we find this central tenet of the kingdom: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”

This means that only God’s kingdom is broadcasting on the frequency to which our spiritual senses are tuned. Nothing else satisfies our inward groaning for righteousness. Psalm 42:1 speaks to this perfect fit, as David cries:

As a deer longs for streams of water, so I long for You, God.

We take that longing, however, and instead of seeing satisfaction in the living water of God, try out the toxic sludge of whatever is offered outside the kingdom. We see that verse and don’t see our means to assassinating idols but something nice to slap on a coffee mug below a picture of a deer and sell for $9.95 at the Christian bookstore.

This hunger and thirst for righteousness, this panting of our soul for water, is the seeking of our spiritual senses for a larger sense, for the completion of our longing, for the great metronome that has set the tick-tock of our insidest insides. In short, we are a spiritual instrument aching from artificial rhythms, aching for true Spiritual rhythms.

Fasting is one of these rhythms, a crucial one in fact, because it involves repenting from the weight of all that slows us down. Fasting is a rhythm in the same way not fasting is a rhythm. It is the way we live in service to something outside of ourselves. As we saw above, the big house isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but orienting your life around paying for, building, and maintaining a big house can be very often. We make sacrifices already, we are just making them for stuff. The rhythms of our life already portray our willingness to go without things like wise financial management, time to rest, anonymity, and even our health in order to get what we want. And those sacrifices are silly! All the rhythm of fasting asks us to do is sacrifice for better, permanent, more fulfilling things.

The late comedian George Carlin was an angry guy who mocked the very idea of God, but even he understood the superficial fulfillment of consumerism. One of his most famous routines involved the relation of the American dream to “stuff.” Carlin mused that we buy a home so that our stuff will fit in it, but then proceed to “need” a bigger home because our accumulation of stuff doesn’t end. “That’s all a house is,” he says, “a place to keep your stuff while you’re out getting more stuff.” Even the biggest house is not big enough to contain the fruit of conspicuous consumption.

Meanwhile Jesus draws near and—ready to rebuke materialism (Luke 12:33) and rescue the weary (Matthew 11:28)—he stands over us with arms outstretched, and to all of us moving to the rhythm of “more” he shouts, “Enough!”

FALSE FASTING

The temptation we face in reading the Beatitudes and the rest of the Sermon on the Mount is to put on the behavioral expectations like a costume and play a religious part without undergoing any heart change at all, which is frankly how millions of Christians live their lives. Jesus himself calls us out on this when he speaks specifically on fasting in the Sermon:

And when you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces that their fasting may be seen by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, that your fasting may not be seen by others but by your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you. (Matthew 6:16-18)

Jesus warns against the behavioral alignment with the kingdom that lacks heart alignment. To act humble is not necessarily to be humble.

This is a powerful truth. When we skim it, it seems reasonable enough. None of us likes hypocritical people. None of us likes people who pretend to be something they’re not. And none of us wants to be those people. But the way Jesus commands humble fasting cuts right to the heart of pretense. He actually encourages “keeping up appearances” as a means of not keeping up appearances. Jesus tells those who fast to clean themselves up a bit. Fix your hair, shave, put on some deodorant. Why?

Because trying to look like you’re fasting is as fake as trying to look like you have it all together. The difference is not appearances but attitudes. The different is the heart.

If following Jesus is all an exercise for you in looking more spiritual, you will have missed the point. The whole point of abiding in Christ according to the rhythms of the kingdom is that life is found outside of your efforts and that the rhythms do not originate with you. You can study your Bible, pray, fast, give to charity, and go to church all you want, but if it is not the work of a heart for God, the prophet Isaiah calls it “filthy rags” (Isaiah 64:6 NIV).

The New Testament church at various times had to ward off the infiltration of a group of heretics called ascetics. (Paul’s letter to the Colossians, for instance, offers instruction in response to the threat of self-righteous asceticism.) Ascetics were those who abstained from certain food or drink, who disengaged from the wider culture, and who adopted rigorous religious disciplines in pursuit of transcendence, enlightenment, or holiness. The bottom line is that for these guys, fasting was the end, not a means to the end. Ascetics trusted their own works to merit salvation.

Joyful fasting is not about asceticism or performance, either to impress God or to impress others. Fasting is a posture. It is a posture of denial we take toward the consumer offerings of the world and of submission toward the loving care and provision of God.

TRUE FASTING

This kingdom rhythm is called “joyful fasting” because the true posture of self-denial is joy. If we are weaning ourselves off of the wares of the world, what do we draw worth from? Where do we place our hopes? What entertains our heart? If it’s not movies, television, the Web, food, drink, or shopping, I mean.

True fasting is joyful fasting for one primary reason: because it is worship of God.

One of the reasons we are tempted to let everyone know we’re fasting, to broadcast from the rooftops that we don’t have cable or that we only buy from Goodwill, is because we aren’t worshiping God so much as the religious admiration of others. False fasting stems even from pleasant hypocrisy and polite self-righteousness; it doesn’t have to be “mean” like the Pharisees’. But looking for the strength to fast from others’ admiration or approval or even our own good feeling and self-satisfaction over jobs well done will not work out. That well dries up. But a heart tuned to God, drawing strength from him, will have ample supply from which to self-deny. When fasting is an act of worship, practiced as a regular rhythm of life in Christ’s kingdom, the Spirit of worship sustains us, a peace that is beyond understanding overcomes us, and a joy unspeakable flows from us.

We do not live in a world where self-denial is encouraged. I have heard maturity defined as “the ability to delay gratification.” If this is true, consumer culture is itself immature and is designed to cultivate immaturity. A daily perusal of Twitter and Facebook updates reveals to me the complaints of friends and family (and myself) when the drive-thru line is long, when the lady in front of us at the checkout is digging in her purse for her billfold at the last second, when the airline doesn’t serve a meal on a lunchtime flight, when the DVR cut off the end of our favorite show. In none of these petty irritations over invented problems that don’t mean anything in the economy of eternity is there the pure joy found inside the “enough-ness” of the kingdom.

It is in this world of imaginary problems and required self-service that the cross of Christ is foolishness. Because the cross is the very emblem of self-denial, self-emptying, self-sacrifice. The cross is the polar opposite of heartfelt wrath felt over someone’s taking our parking space.

But the cross—the place of death and, thereby, life—is the symbol of kingdom fasting, of joyful fasting. The author of Hebrews frames it this way:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:1-2)

This passage tells us that Jesus endured the cross “for the joy that was set before him.” He did not see the sort of gratification in the cross many of us see in the golden arches or the little green mermaid (or whatever it is Starbucks has in their logo). He saw the gratification of joy beyond the cross, seeing the cross as the means to the gratification of renewed intimacy with the Father (“at the right hand of the throne of God”).

You will not be able to say “no thanks” to everything that belongs to the world if you are not already full, as Jesus was filled with the joy of communion with God. And to commune with God is to listen to him You will find it easier to fast joyfully if you are feasting on the revelation of his word.

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Content taken from Supernatural Power for Everyday People: Experiencing God's Extraordinary Spirit in Your Ordinary Life by Jared Wilson, 2018.

Jared C. Wilson is the Director of Content Strategy for Midwestern Seminary, managing editor of For The Church, and author of more than ten books, including Gospel Wakefulness, The Pastor’s Justification, and The Prodigal Church. You can follow him on Twitter.

Even in Your Pain, the Church Needs You

For the body of Christ to be healthy we must depend on each part of the body. The church at Corinth seems to have demoralized those members whom they assumed were less gifted or hurting. Perhaps some of those struggling wondered whether they should even be regarded as part of the church body. Those of us who are hurting are reassured that the body has need of every part. Every part must play its role, or the body won’t function as well as it could. It would be ridiculous if our whole body were one nose. Not only would it be gross but it also couldn’t walk or talk. Every one of us is different, and that’s a good thing. We are not all good at the same things. In the sport of cricket, the best bowlers are not any more valuable than the best batsman. In baseball you need both hitters and pitchers to have a successful team. In both sports the elders have to play well. All have a part to play.

This is why we continue being in community with God’s people all the days of our lives. When one part of the body leaves the body, the whole body hurts. The church needs you! Individual members cannot contract out the work; they must do their role for the good of the body. Romans 12:5 says, “In Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.” Christianity is not a spectator sport. We don’t stay in the seats and watch other Christians get in the match. I recently watched all-time tennis greats Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal play in the Australian Open final. It may be the last time these two greats play one another in a major championship. It was incredible to watch these two rivals. But nothing compares with actually playing the game yourself. Watching is fun, but nothing beats getting out on the court and playing your best.

You may feel as if you have nothing to give others—you are in so much pain, your trial is tremendous. You get exhausted by just getting yourself ready in the morning. But one of the best things you can do as you struggle in your trials is to serve others. This is what you were made to do. God made you to play your part. You were not an accident. In 1 Corinthians 12:18, we see that “God arranged the members of the body.” He put them together. God makes no mistakes; he created you just the way he wanted to. There was no casualty in creation. You may not feel as if you can serve in the way you would like to, but you are important to the health of the church. Sam Allberry gives this illustration in his book on the church:

"Take a pen, a piece of paper and a timer. How many times can you write your name in 30 seconds? Now try the same exercise but without using your hands. You can put the pen between your toes or hold it in your mouth. My guess is, you didn’t do so well the second time round. Once you remove certain parts of the body, even simple tasks get harder. It reminds us of how much those with disability deserve our admiration. And it also reminds us of what our church misses out on when we are not there—part of the body is missing. Your church needs you."

When you reject Christ’s body, the whole church loses something. We need each other, and the wonderful fact is that the Lord has uniquely made you and can use you not in spite of your circumstances but because of your circumstances. This is a wonderful truth!

I’ve noticed that my nerve pain has given me a unique experience with chronic pain and disability that has allowed me to speak into people’s lives in profound ways. I had very little sympathy for others before I myself needed sympathy. Now I understand (at least a little bit more than I used to) the physical and emotional pain that comes with failing health. But what if I steered clear of the rest of Christ’s body? What if I saw my trial as a parenthesis or break in my church involvement and distanced myself from God’s people for a time? I would miss out on God using me. Hurting friend, God can use you in extraordinary ways. God has sovereignly ordained to use hurting people to comfort other hurting people. Paul writes:

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God" (2 Cor. 1:3–4).

Being unhealthy or struggling with some trial shouldn’t cause you to stop your church involvement. You shouldn’t think that you’ll get involved once you’re healthy. The church needs you now. I love seeing how one of our church members, Sneha, deals with extreme physical pain and yet works hard to join us for corporate worship even when she doesn’t feel well. Sneha understands that she needs the church now more than ever. And she’s a blessing to us. Even when she’s writhing in pain in her apartment, she will call church members to encourage and pray for them. Ladies will come to her apartment so that she can teach them the Bible. That’s what Paul is talking about when he says God comforts us so we can comfort others. The reassuring thing for those who are hurting is that God doesn’t cast us aside in our trials, but he is actually preparing us to be used in ways beyond what we could even imagine. Paul continues:

"The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I have no need of you,' nor again the head to the feet, 'I have no need of you.' On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor, and our unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty, which our more presentable parts do not require. But God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together" (1 Cor. 12:21–26).

This is great news! Even when we are hurting and we may be weaker than the other parts, God uses us. Even when we may feel like we have nothing to give, what does Paul say to us? He says all parts are indispensable. Hurting friend, you are indispensable in the plan of God! The word weaker in this context actually has the idea of being sick. The meaning emphasizes the complete unimportance of the member. But Paul says, “We need those members!” The body of Christ can’t do without them. Paul writes that those parts actually deserve greater honor. It seems counterintuitive, but in God’s grand design, your trial might be the moment of your most significant ministry. Could that be the case in your life right now?

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Content taken from Kiss the Wave: Embracing God in Your Trials by Dave Furman, ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

Dave Furman (ThM, Dallas Theological Seminary) serves as senior pastor of Redeemer Church of Dubai in the United Arab Emirates, which he helped plant in 2010. He previously served in various churches in the United States. More than ten years ago, Dave developed a nerve disease and struggles with disability in both arms. He is the author of Kiss the Wave: Embracing God in Your Trials and Being There: How to Love Those Who Are Hurting.