Finding Release From Our Spiritual Mistresses

God’s intention is to restore believers in Christ and turn them into new people. “If anyone is in Christ,” the Scripture says, “he is a new creation. The old has gone and the new has come.” As Christians, it is our job to cooperate with this new creation vision for our lives. Our motivation for embracing newness of life in Jesus is quite different than moralistic motivation. Religious moralists obey God’s rules to feel morally straight and morally superior, and also to earn applause from God, from others, and even from themselves. Christians, on the other hand, are able to obey God precisely because they don’t have to.

Let me explain that one.

If you are a Christian—that is, if you have anchored your trust in the perfect life and substitutionary death of Jesus on your behalf, then you need to know that God smiles over you before you lift a finger to do anything good. Christianity is different than moralism. In that unlike moralism, God’s embrace comes to us at the beginning of our journey versus at the end of our journey. He approves of us not because we are good people, but because Jesus was a truly good person in our stead. His moral straightness, his righteousness, and beauty have been laid upon us as a gift. That, and that alone, is the reason we obey . . . because it makes us want to obey. God does not decide to love us because we first loved him. No, we love God because he first loved us. That is biblical Christianity.

How idolatry works

Imagine you are a married woman and your husband tells you he wants to start dating around. “It’s not that I don’t love you,” he says. “I’m not saying that I want a divorce. You are extremely important to me. We have been through so much together. But I just think that my life would be more complete if I could also date some other women—play the field a little bit, you know?”

Absurd as this may sound, this is precisely what we do to God whenever we disobey him. Every act of disobedience flows from a desire for something or someone besides God to be our first love, our true north, our reason for being. Each of us has his/her own unique potential mistresses—whether money, power, cleanliness, control, relationships, material things, entertainment, or even a spouse or children. Whenever anything becomes more essential to us than God himself (by the way, anything is usually a good thing), it becomes an idol. According to God, our true and everlasting Husband, we become spiritual adulterers. An idol is any person or idea, any created thing that captures our deepest affections and loyalties and will—and in so doing steals our attention away from God. An idol is anything that becomes more precious to us than him. It’s not that we love the thing (whatever it is) too much. Rather, it’s that we love God too little in comparison to it.

Idolatry is the sin beneath every other sin

Idolatry is the root beneath all sin and beneath every choice we ever make to go our own way instead of following Jesus in faith and obedience. Sin, ultimately, is not a matter of behavior, but a matter of desire.

We always obey that which we desire the most.

When we desire something more than we desire God, we will obey that something if ever and whenever we are faced with a choice to obey God or to obey it. So this is what keeps us from being good in the purest sense. Our distorted over-desires escort us into the arms of adulterous lovers, pseudo-saviors, counterfeit Jesuses that put a spell on us and make them appear more life-giving than Jesus, our one true love.

How do we do this? Thanks to David Powlison and his insightful essay, Idols of the Heart and Vanity Fair, there are several diagnostic questions that can help us effectively identify and name our specific spiritual mistresses:

• What do I feel I cannot survive or function without? What do I feel I must have in order to enjoy life, be acceptable as a person, etc.? What are the things I am terrified of losing or obsessed about having?
• Where do I spend my time and money with the least amount of effort? The things we give time and money to most effortlessly are absolutely the things that we worship and serve. They are the things that we believe in our hearts will give our lives the most meaning.
• What do I think and talk about the most? Where do my thoughts go most quickly and most instinctively when I am alone in the car, when I awake, when I am alone in a quiet, undistracted place? As Archbishop William Temple once said, “Your religion is your solitude.”
• Which biblical commands am I most reluctant to obey? What do I treasure so much that, if it is threatened, I will disobey God to keep it? What is so essential to me that I will disobey God to get it?
• What things anger me the most? What kinds of people, things, or circumstances irritate me the most, and what about these people, things, or circumstances give them this kind of power over me? What, if it happened, would strongly tempt me to curse God or push Him out of my life? (Remember Job’s wife. See Job 2:9)
• How would I fill in the blank? I cannot and will not be happy unless.

Dismantling idols after they are identified

Idols are dismantled when they are first exposed and then replaced. Dismantling our idols requires that we labor in our study and meditation of Scripture to understand the many ways that Jesus fills our emptiness in a much more adequate, life-giving way than any Jesus-substitute we may be tempted to worship and serve. Replacing our spiritual mistresses means giving them a back seat to Jesus in our hearts and lives. Basically, every idol (and every sin) traces back to a self-salvation strategy. We use this strategy every time we attempt to replace something that only Jesus can provide, with a counterfeit. What does this mean for us?

It means that we must face head-on our own idols, and humbly admit exactly how the things we love more than Jesus will reduce us, empty us of ultimate meaning, and even destroy us. We must admit that our “over-desires” cannot bring us the lasting wholeness, happiness, or fulfillment (salvation!) we desire. Only Jesus can. Ironically, only when we love Jesus more than these things, we actually end up enjoying these things to a much fuller extent! As CS Lewis once said, “Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you will get neither.”

When our love for Jesus exceeds our love for other things, we end up loving, cherishing, and enjoying these other things even more than we would if we had loved these other things more than we love Jesus. However, if we put the gifts in the place of the Giver, our enjoyment of the gifts ends up being spoiled. Why is this so? It is so because we are made in the image of God. The human soul is so magnificent that only God is big enough to fill it. As Pascal is famous for saying, “Only God is able to fill the God-shaped vacuum in the human heart.”

Be possessive of anything but God—a romantic interest, a career, a net worth, a life goal—and you will never possess that thing. Instead, it will eventually possess you. It will have you and it will hold you . . . around the neck! This is why we are much better off when we learn to pray like the Puritan who had nothing to his name but one piece of bread and a glass of water: “What? All of this and Jesus Christ too!”

Redirecting our deepest loves

Christian growth is about learning to see clearly that Jesus will fill our hearts in much more adequate and enduring ways than any Jesus-counterfeit ever will. Using Scripture, we must immerse our minds and stir our affections with the many ways in which Jesus delivers fully and truly on the specific promises—especially the promises that our specific idols falsely make to us. For example, if we thirst for approval, only the unwavering smile of God over us through Jesus can free us from enslavement to human approval. Or, if we hunger for secure provision, only the God’s sure promise to take care of us like he does the birds and the lilies can free us from our enslavement to money and things.

So what about you? What are your spiritual mistresses? How are they working out for you?

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for his righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.

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Scott Sauls, a graduate of Furman University and Covenant Seminary, is foremost a son of God and the husband of one beautiful wife (Patti), the father of two fabulous daughters (Abby and Ellie), and the primary source of love and affection for a small dog (Lulu). Professionally, Scott serves as the Senior Pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church in Nashville, Tennessee. Prior to Nashville, Scott was a Lead and Preaching Pastor, as well as the writer of small group studies, for Redeemer Presbyterian of New York City. Twitter: @scottsauls.

Originally posted at www.scottsauls.com. Used with permission.

The Prodigal Dad

I was recently with a father who has been through the ringer with his son over the past few years. Suffice it to say that he has run into the wall just beyond the line of God’s sovereign will and the common grace of parenting. Or perhaps more illustrative, he’s living in the tension of “you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.” This man is a great dad. His heart’s desire is that all of his children would, like the apostle Paul, “be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith.” (Philippians 3:9)

As we discussed God’s sovereignty, man’s depravity, and the life lessons therein, I was reminded about something my own dad has always told me. “Never be afraid to come home.”

Six simple words that meant so much more. They meant that I will always have a home under my father’s roof. They meant that my dad would be the first person I call (save perhaps my wife nowadays) if I found myself in real trouble. They meant that there is literally nothing I could do to lose my right to be a part of my father’s family. I always knew this. And so do the kids of my friend above.

But as I drove away from our meeting, a distant realization caught up with me all too quickly. It was as if I had walked out my front door into a maelstrom of reality dragging me deeper into its grasp. You see, as I have often written about, I have a great dad. And my friend is a great dad. But many in our own church cannot say the same thing.

The fatherhood deficiency in American society is nothing new. In fact, the worldwide phenomenon has been pandemic for years. I was recently in Nicaragua. They have the same problem. I’ve been to 3 or 4 other Latin American nations that are in the same boat. It’s not a new thing.

But the striking reality is this. As the trend grows, fewer and fewer children will hear the words “Never be afraid to come home.”

Now, why are those words so important?

Because of all the things they tell us. “Never be afraid to come home” is a clear picture of the reality that God searches for his prodigal children. It’s the declaration that there is literally nothing a child of God can do to lose the right to be called his son or daughter. It means that, for the Christian, our first response when we sin is to run to our Father, rather than away from him. And that is a true mark of maturity.

But I’m fearful that without our earthly dads to tell us that, we will have a difficult time learning it about our Heavenly Father. My dad—his actions, his love, and his words—were instrumental in my regeneration experience. And what’s more, my dad was a father figure for some of my closest friends when we all lived in a house together. They may not have called him dad. But a good father is a father in the same way a good athlete is an athlete. It just comes natural.

Don’t think that I’m attempting to take the supernatural away from God, as if he couldn’t possibly regenerate hearts to faith without the example of good earthly fathers. The truth is, God has ordained fatherhood to be a vivid illustration of his relationship to us. Why else would he call us sons and daughters?  So, for Christian fathers, the office of fatherhood carries a grace-filled weight that is unlike any other office that men can occupy.

But the problem is we have too many prodigal dads. Fulfilling their own destinies through achievement. Chasing a different woman every night at the local dive bar to escape chronic loneliness. Exploring “feminization” and “metrosexuality” simply because they are the latest trends on their news feeds. Searching for the kind of identity that is only to be found within the scope of God’s good design.

So, this is a plea to the prodigal dads. It’s not too late. My dad’s not perfect. Far from it. But he was, is, and will always be—first and foremost—my dad.

If God can heal the most fractured relationship that has ever existed—the one between you and him—he can surely reconcile your relationship with your wife and kids by his grace. He can certainly bring you under the fountain of joy that comes from renewal in Him. He can put you back together.

Prodigal dad, “Never be afraid to come home.”

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Alex Dean (@AlexMartinDean) is a pastor in Lakeland, Florida. Holding an undergraduate degree from Dallas Baptist University, Alex is currently completing his graduate work at Reformed Theological Seminary. His book, Gospel Regeneration: A story of death, life, and sleeping in a van, is available on Amazon, iBooks, and other online retailers. Follow his blog at www.GospelRegeneration.com and follow him on Twitter.

Used with permission. Originally posted at GospelRegeneration.com.

4 Reasons to Study Church History

Read your Bible. Pray with your spouse. Disciple your kids. Serve in the church. Meet with your small group. Mentor someone younger . . . and . . . study Christian history? I know what you’re thinking. There is way too much going on for me to think about juggling all the above, as well as maintaining a robust knowledge of the history of the faith. I suppose I can’t argue with you. Upfront, none of the above are requirements for admittance or acceptance into the family of God. The gospel calls us to enter a rest unlike we have ever known (Heb. 4). And because we’ve entered that rest by the blood of Christ alone, we are compelled by the love of Christ to grow deeper in the faith and to love people radically. I’m here to argue that God can use the study of Christian history to make you a mature disciple. Here are four reasons why.

1. The creeds and confessions were not written in a vacuum.

What is the chief principle of hermeneutics? Context, context, context! It’s no different for the historic creeds, confessions, and other writings. Many Christians have read the Nicene Creed, Luther’s Shorter Catechism, The Westminster Confession, and more, and taken them at face value. No doubt these documents were written to stand the test of time, but each one was also written within a specific historical context and toward specific historical debates.

Look at these titles from the early fathers: Against Heresies by Iraneus. On the Incarnation by Athanasius. Anti-Pelagian Writings by Augustine. Or how about Luther’s On the Bondage of the Will, which is entirely a reply to Erasmus’ On Free Will.

I’m not saying that you can’t take these things at face value. What I am saying is that if you do, you are only getting half of the story. The beauty of many of these creeds, confessions, and writings is set against the backdrop of heresy. We see throughout the history of Christianity a vigilant defense of the orthodoxy we enjoy today. We stand on the shoulders of those who have fought for the gospel over the past two-thousand years. Let us not take that for granted because we are ignorant of that rich history.

2. Most contemporary theologians are admittedly reproducing what has been first produced elsewhere in church history.

Trace this line with me. Jesus met Paul on the road to Damascus. Paul espoused Christ’s gospel throughout his writings in the first century. In the fourth century, Augustine expounded and defended Paul’s gospel theology against the heresies of his day (see specifically the Pelagian controversy). Martin Luther was an Augustinian monk. Read Calvin’s Institutes, and you’ll find Augustine flooding its pages. The Great Awakening in eighteenth-century America was led by Calvinist theologian Jonathan Edwards. In the twentieth-century, C.S. Lewis picked up on the Edwardsian threads of beauty and wonder. And, as you likely know, the greatest theologians of our day constantly place the works of centuries past before our eyes to remind us that orthodox theology stands the test of time.

When you read men like Keller, Piper, Chandler, Carson—and many more—know that they too stand on the shoulders of other Christians through church history. We reap the benefits of their careful study of the history of the faith.

3. Church history, particularly during the Reformation, spurs us to be always reforming.

Theologically speaking, the Reformation is not complete. How can I say that? One of the chief tenets of the Reformation was Sola Scriptura. Can you say that your study of Scripture has totally transformed your life in such a way that you think and act Biblically at all times? Of course you can’t. Neither can I.

We are always reforming when we, like the Reformers, constantly go back to the Scripture as our standard for doctrine and life. The spirit of the Reformation lives on when we continue to challenge modern thought, practice, and life with the unchanging truths of Scripture.

4. The history of Christianity proves it has always been a disciple making endeavor.

Make no mistake, when Christ said, “Go and make disciples,” he meant it. Paul discipled Timothy. Augustine was deeply committed to his teaching and preaching ministry in Carthage as a way of transmitting the chief tenets of our faith to young believers. Wycliffe committed his life to Oxford, not only as a way of equipping, but also as a way of sending out some of history’s first itinerant preachers. Luther worked in a close relationship with Melanchthon. Calvin transformed Geneva through education and systematization of theology.

Step back and take a broad look at the spread of Christianity, and you’ll find a simple yet stunning reality. Since the book of Acts, God has built his Church by the power of his Spirit and the transmission of the gospel. He does this through discipleship. That means that he has invited you into this overarching story of Christian history. You are probably not the next Augustine, Luther, or Calvin. But, if you are in Christ, you are absolutely vital to his mission of making disciples. Who are you discipling today?

Here are a few great resources on historical theology:

• Historical Theology: An Introduction to the History of Christian Thought by Alister McGrath.
• Confessions and Catechisms of the Reformation by Mark A. Noll.
• Concerning Christian Liberty by Martin Luther.
• Edwards on the Christian Life: Alive to the Beauty of God by Dane C. Ortlund (the entire series On the Christian Life from Crossway is church history gold)

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Alex Dean is a pastor in Lakeland, Florida. Holding an undergraduate degree from Dallas Baptist University, Alex is currently completing his graduate work at Reformed Theological Seminary. His book, Gospel Regeneration: A story of death, life, and sleeping in a van, will be released in the summer of 2014. Follow his blog at gospelregeneration.com or follow him on Twitter @alexmartindean.

Comforting the Hurting

The Incarnation for a Hurting World

When a family-member, friend, or co-worker is suffering, we’re quick to jump to worldly comfort or perhaps the sovereignty of God. It is wise to remind those to whom we minister that no person or situation is outside of God’s grasp or concern, and perhaps a solid pat on the back is helpful every so often. However, we will find ourselves malnourished if we don’t also consider Christ’s humanity as extremely relevant to a world of hurt. For many of us it is a daily struggle to believe that the God of the universe truly cares about our lives, much less the detail of our personal hurts. Only in Christ do we find a God so concerned with the messiness of our lives that he entered into it. This article will take a short but thoughtful look at Hebrews 2:14-3:6 in order to develop an understanding of Christ’s incarnation and its application for a hurting world.

Though the author of our passage is not identified, the references to Old Testament texts and concepts throughout provide evidence that the original readers were quite familiar with the Jewish-Christian worldview. Given the counsel we see provided throughout the book, the recipients were very likely suffering through some persecution and perhaps in danger of turning away from the true gospel, making it relevant to our topic of study.

In considering the immediate context of this passage, the author begins in chapter two by discussing the danger of ignoring truth, reminding readers of the “just punishment” that may follow from disregarding one’s salvation. It then moves into the humiliation and glory of God’s Son, who had to identify himself with mortal human beings in order to “taste death for everyone.” There is a clear outline of the Son’s perfection through suffering (v. 10) and his solidarity with humanity (v. 11). The text then presents Psalm 22:22 and Isaiah 8:17 as support for this truth. From there, in vv. 14-18, the author moves to develops the implications of Christ’s solidarity in order to address the necessity of the Incarnation. Jesus partook of humanity in full in order to break the power of the devil and free those who were held in slavery (all of Abraham’s descendants). The logical connective “so that” in 2:14 expresses purpose, indicating that the purpose of the Incarnation was to “render powerless him who had the power of death” and “free those…subject to slavery.” The Son had to become human in order to become the high priest, and he had to become a high priest “in order to offer the ultimate sacrifice for sins” (vv.17-18).

A new unit of thought develops in 3:1-6 as the author acknowledges Jesus as the apostle and high priest and moves on to contrast Jesus and Moses. The author pulls again from the Septuagint, this time from Numbers 12:7, when Moses’ faithfulness to the “house” refers to his ministry to and responsibility of a “defined group of people in special relationship to God.” In short, the author’s intention is clear: to urge readers to stand firm in their faith. The author encourages this by pointing to Jesus, his superiority, and the importance of his readers’ proper response and commitment to him by shifting focus from a worldly to eternal perspective.

How Do We Counsel the Hurting?

When providing counsel to those we love (or even ourselves) in times of hurt, is this where we begin? Do we start by reminding and being reminded of the truth that God himself has come to earth? Do we marvel that he’s done so as our high priest, identifying in every way with the human struggle of pain, loneliness, grief, sickness, and death? His pain-filled and suffering pursuit of us through the Incarnation ought to act as a well of hope from which we draw in difficult times. In our counsel, we always need to echo the form of Incarnation by starting with God and working down to earth, shifting the perspective from worldly to external.

Hebrews 2:14-18 explains the necessity and value of the Incarnation and Jesus’ appointment as high priest while stressing that human beings have a responsibility to respond to him in a particular way. Chapter 3:1-6 discusses the role of Jesus as the Son over God’s house and his superior role and responsibilities to Moses. Theologically, the entire passage speaks to Jesus’ unity with humanity, the purpose of the Incarnation and the superiority of the New Covenant found in Jesus Christ’s high priesthood. It explains why that Incarnation was necessary—Christ had to “share in flesh and blood” in order to experience death (v. 14) and also render it ineffective in keeping humanity separated from God. Because Christ is now death’s master, we are no longer enslaved by it.

It is worth noting that the pain and hurt caused by our own sin can no longer force us into a downward spiral of shame or repeated poor choices. It is no longer our sin that defines us. It is no longer sin that enslaves humanity. In fact, given Christ’s work as the high priest, we ought to now consider the act of committing sin as less-than-human. In other words, Christ isn’t less-than-human because he didn’t sin, he is truly human because he didn’t sin! Though we still suffer with indwelling sin in the already-not-yet, it does not define our status any longer. To lust, to get angry, to be addicted – all of it is us acting out of a false self. Part of our counsel to those hurting from sinful choices ought to remind them that sin no longer defines them and that their true self is one redeemed and beloved by God himself.

So why the incarnation? The author provides several reasons starting in verse 17.

First,Christ’s humanity was necessary in order for him to become a “merciful and faithful high priest” (v. 17). Only because Christ was fully human could he stand in as the high priest for humanity. The function of the “chief priest” or “high priest” was to act as a representative of the people, making access to God possible through the sacrificial system. The author sees Jesus as the “one, true, faithful high priest,” which highlights his unity with humankind and his leadership of God’s people into God’s presence. As the high priest, Jesus was uniquely qualified to make atonement for the sins of the people. Christ’s work of reconciliation, where he turns aside God’s wrath by taking away the sins of the people, made the OT ritual of atonement obsolete and brought about the New Covenant community.

Second, Christ reconciles humanity to God, accomplished through his sacrificial death, which was necessary to make atonement for the sins of the people (v. 18). The author then assures his readers that Christ is able to help them in their temptation because he himself suffered when he was tempted. The tense of the verb “suffered” is significant here. The perfect tense is used and emphasizes that even though the temptation of Christ is a past event the effect continues to be felt in the present. To clarify, even though Christ suffered temptation in the past, we are continually being helped by him in our present time and can experience his help as an ongoing reality in the future. The author finishes by explaining that the readers’ perseverance in faith will act as the ultimate sign of their commitment to Christ.

The Purpose of the Incarnation

This passage addresses the reason and purpose for the Incarnation and the superiority of Jesus’ faithfulness as the Son. The author’s explanation of the Incarnation provides readers with a wonderful summary of the logic behind Christ’s humanity and his suffering. It was because Christ became human and lived a sinless life that he could stand in our place in order to make propitiation for our sins. His role as Apostle and High Priest was only made possible in the Incarnation and Christ’s opportunity to remain faithful to God. Jesus’ faithfulness to his role as Son over all God’s house establishes the superiority of the New Covenant and now provides humanity with total access to God.

This passage speaks volumes to a hurting world. Our natural response to a hurting person is often lacking, leaning mostly on worldly counsel to “cheer up” or perhaps we’ll dress it up with “God’s in control!” Maybe, when needing to counsel our family or close friends, we simply take them out to a movie in order to get their mind off things. As trite as it sounds in writing, this is the extent to much of our counsel, and though there are some good aspects in these methods, those who need true Christ-like counsel will be left wanting.

Hurting people—whether they are feeling lonely, depressed, angry, or suffering through intense pain—need to continually be assured of God’s tremendous concern for every aspect of their being. Pointing to the humanity of Christ allows us to call out two major, comforting truths: 1) Empathy; and, 2) initiative.

To start, we can find empathy in Jesus because he was “made like us in every respect.” Christ is human, which means he stared sin and shame and darkness in the face. He knows loneliness. He knows fully well the temptation to retreat and turn from God, but he, uniquely, was able to stand in power against that temptation and honor the Father in victory. Only Christ can teach us what it is to be fully human. He alone can offer us a picture of true empathy and an empowering model for fighting through temptation all the way through victory through the power of God, which is now alive in us via the Spirit.

Also, we’re given the encouragement in the truth of initiative. This person, though they doubt that God might care for them, cannot stare at the Incarnation long without being wooed away from sorrow. The God of the universe, who is unique and utterly transcendent, came to us! As fallen, mortal human beings we cannot possible “get” to God. He must first come to us, and he proves his love and concern by descending his throne and being made like his brothers and dwelling with us. We cannot possible claim that God does not care. He has first pursued us in the person of Christ, taking immense measure to dwell among us just as the Spirit does today. What worship is brought about when one considers the extent that God went to reconcile himself to us!

Ultimately, it’s worth quickly noting that neither our sin nor all the hurt in the world can or does detach us from God. Sin no longer necessarily separates. Christ bridged the gap as the true man and high priest. We can freely counsel others to turn away from sin patterns and darkness and to their loving Father who is absolutely concerned with their life.

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Evan Perkins served as a teaching pastor at Scum of the Earth Church in Denver, CO for three years before transitioning to a professional sales role in Austin, TX. He holds an MDiv from Denver Seminary and currently serves as a lay-leader and elder candidate at City Life Church. He is the husband of Lauren and the father of their son, Eli.

Resisting Social Darwinism

There are few things that make me more proud to be the pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church in Nashville than CPC’s special emphasis on children with special needs. Once a year, our children’s staff has an amazing “vacation Bible school” for kids with special needs and their siblings. There is also a monthly expression of this called “Special Saturdays” which does several things. First, it pulls a community together to participate in something that Jesus is pleased with. After all, Jesus, always gave special attention to the weak and disadvantaged. Second, it affirms that every person has dignity or, as Martin Luther King, Jr. said, ‘there are no gradations in the image of God.’ Third, it reminds us that, sometimes to our surprise, people with special needs have more to teach us about the kingdom of God than we have to teach them. King David understood this. After his best friend Jonathan died in battle, his first order to his staff was to tell him if there was anyone to whom he could show favor for Jonathan’s sake.

Enters Mephibosheth, Jonathan’s orphaned son who is crippled in both feet.

Rather than saying, “On second thought . . .” or assuming a retail approach to relationships (a retail approach runs from sacrifice and prioritizes being relationship with people who are more useful than they are costly), David assures Mephibosheth that his future will be bright. David promises to restore the entire fortune of his predecessor King Saul, also Mephibosheth’s grandfather, to the young man. Second, David adopts him as his own son, assuring him that he will always have a seat at the king’s table. You can read the full story in 2 Samuel 9.

In this instance, David demonstrates what a heart that’s been transformed by the gospel is capable of—an extreme other-orientation. His first order to his staff as king sends a message. “My kingliness will not be marked by domineering. It will be marked by love and sacrifice.” David starts his reign by actively looking for an opportunity to lay down his life for someone who needs him to do this. He is actively looking, in other words, to limit his own options, to shut his own freedoms down, in order to strengthen an orphan who is weak.

Eugene Peterson says that hesed love—the word used to describe the love that David has for Jonathan and Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan—sees behind or beneath whatever society designates a person to be (disabled, option limiting, costly, etc.) and instead acts to affirm a God-created identity in the person. In other words, Peterson is saying that to be human is to carry intrinsic value and dignity.

My friend Gabe Lyons wrote a beautiful essay about his son Cade, who has Down Syndrome. In the essay Gabe points out that over 92% of children in utero with Down Syndrome are aborted. Gabe offers a refreshing, counter-culture perspective from the parents of the other 8%. His essay is a celebration of Cade’s dignity, as well as the remarkable contribution Cade makes in the lives of people around him. He demonstrates an uncanny ability to live in the moment, a remarkable empathy for others, a refreshing boldness, and a commitment to complete honesty.

Gabe, along with the many parents who grace our church with the presence of their children who have special needs, are simply practicing good theology. Because the neighbor love part of the Kingdom of God is, at its core, a resistance movement against social Darwinism. Social Darwinism—‘survival of the fittest’ in the human community—tells us that it is those who are powerful, privileged, handsome, rich and wise who command our special attention, while those who are weak, physically or mentally challenged, and poor are ignorable at best, and disposable at worst.

But nobody is ignorable. And nobody is disposable. Every person, whether an expert or a child with special needs, is a carrier of an everlasting soul.

There are no gradations in the image of God.

In terms of gifting, resources, and opportunity, everyone is different. In terms of dignity and value, everyone is the same. As Francis Schaeffer once said, ‘There are no little people.”

How do we know this? Because of how Jesus chose to take on his humanity. He, the Creator of everything that is, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Alpha and the Omega, the Seed who crushed the serpent’s head, the Beginning and the End, became weak, disabled, and disposed of.

There was nothing about him that caused us to desire him . . . he was despised and rejected by men. He came to his own, but his own did not receive him.

He chose that.

Jesus became poor so we could become rich in God. He was orphaned so we could become daughters and sons of God. He was brutally executed so we could live abundantly in his Kingdom. He was made invisible so we could be seen. He became weak so we could become strong. He became crippled in both feet…and in both hands also…so we could walk and not grow weary, so we could run and not grow faint.

If this isn’t enough to convince you that every person matters . . .

. . . what will?

—

Scott Sauls, a graduate of Furman University and Covenant Seminary, is foremost a son of God and the husband of one beautiful wife (Patti), the father of two fabulous daughters (Abby and Ellie), and the primary source of love and affection for a small dog (Lulu). Professionally, Scott serves as the Senior Pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church in Nashville, Tennessee. Prior to Nashville, Scott was a Lead and Preaching Pastor, as well as the writer of small group studies, for Redeemer Presbyterian of New York City. Twitter: @scottsauls.

Originally posted at www.scottsauls.com. Used with permission.

The Pornified Mind and the Glory of God

When I was 22 I heard Louie Giglio speak about the glory of God and I've never forgotten that sermon. He spoke about a road-trip he and a friend took in their late teens. Mount Rainier was the destination; they ate, drank, and breathed information about the mountain in preparation to summit it. But in the moment when they beheld the mount, it was not information that filled them, but awe. Louie told how he stood there looking at Rainier and wept. He was ashamed of his tears at the time—what self-respecting man weeps at a mountain? But as he shared the story in front of thousands of young people I guarantee there was no shortage of tears welling in our own eyes. Awe is contagious.

Rewiring Our Minds

A new film is set to release this year, the protagonist is a guy who values, "My body, my pad, my ride, my family, my church, my boys, my girls . . . and my porn." As best as I can tell from the trailer, when he finally encounters a girl who meets his porn-infused standards, he's surprised to find out she has some standards of her own. Her porn, though, is chick flicks—stories of tender, strong, fictional gentlemen who will meet her emotional and physical needs; needs which our principle guy finds he is hardly qualified to meet.

There's a good amount of gender stereotyping from what I can tell in just the trailer; however, as I don't see myself spending time, money, or soul watching the film, my observations here are based on the trailer alone. Now would be a good time to point out that porn is not just an issue for men: 66% of women today watch or have watched porn. But for the sake using the illustration of the film, we're going to stick to what it offers to us here. There are a few notable observations to be made from it, namely that even secular culture recognizes the similarity between men who watch porn and women who read books and films depicting romance. If watching porn rewires the minds of men, it's a safe bet to say there's some rewiring happening in the minds of women as well when they feast on emotional and sexual fantasies (of any kind).

One of the ways porn has affected men in greater numbers is their lack of arousal by a real live woman. The more they feast on multiple women at the mere click of a button, the more they train their minds to need new, new, new. Though I have no scientific proof for my theory, I would argue the same is true for women who have allowed their minds to sit in the stench of imagined and unfulfilled futures. No man can compete with the specimen of modern lore.

A number of single, young men have told me they can't get a date because women have this strong, silent, tall, dark, and handsome fictional ideal. The same is true for women. Men who have feasted on airbrushed women meeting their every sexual fantasy are not going to find much attractive in the girl next door unless she's wearing daisy dukes and midriff top. The more we feast on what is not real, the less we desire that which is.

In conversations with my single friends, the number one attribute of a woman the men want is someone they're physically attracted to, and the number one attribute the women want in a man is a partner and a friend. That's telling to me and it should be to all of us.

Splitting Intentions

Wendell Berry, in his essay Feminism, the Body, and the Machine, writes,

Marriage, in what is evidently its most popular version, is now on the one hand an intimate "relationship" involving (ideally) two successful careerist in the same bed, and on the other hand a sort of private political system in which rights and interests must be constantly asserted and defended. Marriage in other words, has now taken the form of divorce: a prolonged and impassioned negotiation as to how things shall be divided.

While Berry is speaking specifically about the modern idea that within marriage we "split" duties and work equally, his share and her share, and how this is only a divorce mindset within the confines of a lawful marriage, there's something to be said here for the way we go about seeking a spouse. For a man to place such high emphasis on the "hotness" of his wife is to overlook the sharedness of the image in Whom they were made. And for a woman to find her greatest satisfaction in a man who will be her gentle-friend and provider, she misses the opportunity to reflect back the Maker to her spouse.

We have been splitting duties since the garden of Eden (Eve: The serpent gave it to me! Adam: The woman you gave to me gave it to me!). In a culture that increasingly sees nothing wrong with porn, romance novels, or chick flicks, we only fracture that split further: the woman is meant to please men, the man is meant to please women. Meanwhile both have almost completely lost sight of original intention which is not to please one another at all.

God's Good Pleasure

"Come, let us make man in our image, after our likeness," are the first words we hear from God regarding man. In our image. In our likeness.

He formed man from dust and breathed life into his nostrils. He formed woman from bone and brought her to man.

Adam's response to woman has been caricatured by many to imply that woman was staggeringly beautiful and so should every woman henceforth be to her husband. But it falls flat because to what did Adam have to compare this creation? There were no standards of beauty but One. God alone. And in Adam's cry we hear the anguished cry of every man and woman to this day when they behold the nearest thing to God they can know, "At last!"

At last.

It was not the mere beauty of Eve's body that brought Adam such joy, but the image-bearer of his Creator standing in full glorious reality in front of him. It was not only a sexual reaction, but a spiritual one. Like Louie at the foot of Mount Rainier, nothing could have prepared Adam for the sight of something which so beautifully reflected his Maker.

Within the hearts of men and women, at the sight of what God has created to bring him worship and glory, to fulfill our greatest good and every mandate, we stand and worship, we weep. Why? Because we have seen the real thing, and no amount of airbrushed images or happily ever afters could prepare us for what God created to best reflect his likeness. A real, live person. The real thing.

—

Lore is pronounced Lor-ee, but you can call her Lo. She grew up on the east coast, but transplanted to Dallas a few years ago—she’s not from Texas, but Texas wants her anyway (as the song goes). Lore has been writing since 2001, blogging since blogs were invented, and still can’t get the hang of the whole business very well, but she loves it just the same. Visit her at Sayable or follow her on twitter @loreferguson.

4 Ways to Apply Grace to Fight for Holiness

Christians believe in the gospel. Simply put, God became human in Jesus Christ; Jesus lived a sinless life; in his perfection, Jesus died as an atoning sacrifice for sin; and he was resurrected. Christians believe this life to be the power of God’s grace—we are powerless to save ourselves, but God in Christ has reconciled us to himself. Grace is what justifies us before God. Millions—if not billions—of people alive believe the truth of the gospel. They confess it freely. But the question many of them have is what’s next after this confession. They might say, “I believe the gospel to be true. But what do I do now? How do I grow spiritually?” For centuries, churches have recommended corporate worship, Bible study, prayer, and a host of other spiritual practices. But I’ve recently found when people ask me how they are to grow spiritually, they are actually asking a different question. They are recognizing a universal experience in the Christian life—they are still tempted to sin.

If grace has justified me before God, how does grace change me over a lifetime? God gives his grace freely in Jesus Christ and in Scripture; the Christian journey is one of applying that grace to our brokenness over the course of a lifetime. The application of grace is the way we fight for holiness in life.

How to Fight For Holiness

1. Identify the lie you believe.

We all believe lies about ourselves. These lies are different for each of us, but belief in lies is universal. The prophet Jeremiah puts it this way: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9) You do not need to wonder whether you, too, believe lies about yourself. Instead, you must identify what the lie you believe is.

Our tendency is to focus on the concrete, to focus on our actions. We spot the actions or attitudes in our lives we do not like, and we want to change them. We make plans or resolutions and through sheer willpower, we change behaviors. This sort of behavior modification is good and works in many circumstances. We want to stop biting our nails, so we resolve to do so.

But the darkest places in our heart and actions are not able to be overcome by willpower, for those dark places are not about the actions. The dark places are about motives and loves. And these are the places where the lies live. The place where anger, jealousy, insecurity, lust, lies, and fakery thrive. And these sorts of motives and loves feed upon the lies. As Matthew 12:34-35 reminds us, “How can you speak good, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.”

If you want to apply the grace of Jesus to your life, you must be willing to spelunk into these dark places and examine your heart. You will need to ask some difficult questions to find the emotional and spiritual motives behind some of your actions. No easy answers are allowed in the dark places.

Addictive behavior often falls into the same trap. I choose to look at pornography, drink excessively, or abuse illegal drugs because I believe that the pleasure I will receive from succumbing to my addiction will supersede all other pleasures available to me. I have convinced myself peace comes through my addiction; the behavior killing me is the one I believe best-suited to satiate my thirst. I believe a lie: The greatest pleasure in my life comes from participating in addictive behavior, not God.

Surface behavior is rarely the root problem. Behaviors are often symptoms of something deeper within our hearts. We believe things about others, ourselves, the world, or God, and we then act upon those deeply held beliefs. Often those beliefs are so deeply rooted within our personality or our past that we cannot even immediately identify them. As a lifelong struggler of insecurity and people pleasing, it took multiple conversations with my wife and friends—along with extended time in prayer and reflection—to begin to notice the lies beneath my behaviors. Rooting out the lies we believe can often be the most difficult part of the process, for it often requires us to visit emotional and spiritual wounds we would prefer to forget or ignore.

2. Find the grace-centered truth of Scripture.

The preceding spiritual lies are false thoughts taking up residence within our current belief structures. These false thoughts are causing us to behave in ways we know are in opposition to Kingdom living. In order to fight the lies, we must replace the false thoughts with the truth. The written source of truth for the Kingdom life is found in Scripture. In order to change our life, we must find the truth of Scripture and allow it to combat the lies. Hebrews 4:12 describes the Scripture as a sword, able to divide between soul and spirit. The truth found within the pages of the Bible must become the weapon you use. These lies are not new; humanity has been recycling the same lies for millennia.

To battle lies with the truth, we need to know the themes of Scripture. Because the lies we tell ourselves are not always about the outward symptom (drugs, pornography, etc.) but instead about heart motivations, we must ensure we are allowing the Word of God to speak to the lie itself, not simply the symptom. Take anger for example. A root lie for anger says, “I believe I am entitled to a life I control.” In order to combat this belief, I must find what Scripture says regarding control.

“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (Matt. 6:24).

“In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind” (Job 12:10).

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28).

“Our God is in the heavens; he does all that he pleases” (Ps.115:3).

“As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today” (Gen. 50:20).

Repeatedly, Scripture testifies that the Lord is sovereign over all of creation. While I am allowed great freedom to act within the world, the Bible clearly states that everything is seen by his gracious eye and everything passes through his hand. If my anger stems from a desire to control, these (and many other) verses are essential. The lie? I am entitled to a life I control. The truth? God is in control and sovereign over my life.

Once you have identified the lie, finding the truth of Scripture becomes a quest. Do not only settle on the easily discovered Scriptures; instead, dive into Scripture every day. Read the New Testament repeatedly—like any great text, it takes multiple readings to grasp its depth. The more you read, the more the truth of God will replace the lies within your mind. If you keep a running list of Scriptures with the truth that combats your resident lie, you will soon find you have an extensive armory. Even further—and perhaps more important—Scripture is best understood when it is read and interpreted in communally. You need to read the Scripture with other believers so that you can understand it. Deuteronomy 6 exhorts parents to teach their children in this way—talking about the Scripture as they journey together. When you read Scripture in community, allowing it to address the lies present in your life, you will quickly find Proverbs 27:17 true, “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.”

3. Apply the grace of Jesus.

Once you have stocked your built your armory, you are now prepared for the fight. And there will be a fight.

When temptation comes, you will be better-equipped to recognize it for what it is—the seduction to believe and act upon a lie. You will recognize your anger as the lie of control; you will know your desire for people-pleasing is actually your misguided understanding of self-worth.

And in that moment, you must act decisively—you must choose to act upon the truth instead of the lie. This is a tension, to be sure. You are not justified by your action; you are justified by grace. But in that justified state, you are now freed to act upon grace as empowered by the Spirit. The Spirit’s leadership is found within Scripture’s truth. Therefore, you must remember those stockpiled truths and act upon them. Acting upon Scripture instead of self-created lies is the practical application of the purchased grace of Jesus.

• God is ultimately in control (Scripture), not me (lie), so I can resist anger.
• God declares me to be a child of the King (Scripture), not others (lie), so I can resist the need to unnecessarily people-please.
• God alone is the judge (Scripture), not me (lie), so I am not required to immediately criticize the actions of others.
• God is the ultimate pleasure and joy in life (Scripture), not my addictive behavior (lie), so I am free to enjoy him.

Contemporary neurology affirms what you instinctively know to be true. Years of acquiescing to spiritual lies create neural superhighways which feel like second nature. To choose to act upon Scripture’s truth will be difficult, because it will be the hacking of a neural path through the thick underbrush of amassed past decisions. In fact, current neurology explains that to create new neural pathways can be painful, as it indicates new neural growth. In spite of the pain, the decision to act upon the truth is the step toward freedom. You are creating new thought patterns within your mind; you are participating in the inception of holiness.

4. Repeat. For life.

The temptations will always come, but the more you choose to act upon the grace of Jesus imparted within Scripture, the more your machete-hacked neural path becomes a well-worn road. Eventually, the decision for holiness becomes its own superhighway. Like any behavior, the new habit of holiness will eventually take hold, and the truth will more naturally supplant the lie.

You will fail and fall down some days. You will fall prey to old temptations and use the old pathways. But, on those days, do not believe the lie that you are a failure. Instead, embrace the truth of the gospel. Remember 2 Corinthians 12:9, “‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” In your weakness, God continues to give grace, and he never ceases to do so. The well of Jesus’ love does not run dry.

Spiritual maturity is the journey of a lifetime, and it is a journey that we never complete until the day we “will be like him, for we will see him as he is” (1 Jn. 3:2). Paul encourages believers to “work out your salvation” (Phil. 2:12). Much like our contemporary use of “working out,” the application of grace is an exercise or a solving of spiritual issues. It is breaking old patterns of thoughts and behaviors through the process of grace. It is what Jesus referred to when he commanded his disciples to take up their cross each day (Lk. 9:23). Nevertheless, walking with Christ daily is a source of incredible peace and joy—it is the greatest delight of the heart. So find the lies you believe; replace them with the truth of Scripture; and act upon the grace purchased at the cross. This is the path of holiness—the path of a mature disciples.

This is the Kingdom life, the truth of Jesus, made alive in us. As Paul wrote in Galatians 2, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me!” May you apply the grace of God each day in your journey to know him alive in you. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Cor. 5:17).

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Steve Bezner is Senior Pastor of Houston Northwest Church. He holds degrees from Hardin-Simmons University (B.A., Bible; M.A., Religion) and Baylor University (Ph.D., Religion). He is married to Joy and has two sons: Ben and Andrew. Follow him on Twitter: @Bezner.

5 Thoughts on Confessing Sin to One Another

“Open Confession is good for the soul,” or so the maxim goes. Perhaps it might also be said, “Open Confession is  good for your relationship with God and men.” While Scripture supports both of these statements, there is something of a haze that lays across the surface of the meaning of such statements in Scripture as, “Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed” (Jas. 5:16). Is James speaking of going around and confessing any sin that you can point to in your life to just about anyone you are in fellowship with in the church so that they will pray for you? Or, does he have in mind the practice of “keeping short accounts” with the brethren? Does he mean going to an offended brother or sister and asking forgiveness for a particular sin that was committed against them? Or, as the context might indicate, is James instructing  individuals in the congregation to come to the elders and confess particular sins of a scandalous nature in order to be healed of a sickness with which they had been chastened by God? While we may not come to a completely settled agreement on the precise meaning of James 5:16, there are two dangers and three applications of our duty that we should be able to agree upon when reflecting on this subject.

Dangers

1. There is a danger of treating believers like personal priests.

When confession of sin becomes penance rather than repentance, there is a danger of turning to others to help us quiet our guilty conscience. Instead of turning to Christ and seeking for the cleaning of his blood–which alone quiets a guilty conscience before God, we can turn in penance to others to get that quieting. In his book Repentance: A Daring Call to Real Surrender, C. John Miller made the following astute observation about this danger:

“Penance seeks out a human priest other than Christ. . . . All too often religious leaders are flattered into accepting the role of by sympathetic parishioners who admire their gifts and graces. In accepting this role they harm themselves and the ones for whom they attempt to mediate. . . . Christians who witness with power and effectiveness will find that others will look to them to do the work of Christ for them. For instance, as the pastor must take care not to become priest to needy people in the congregation, so the youth worker must be careful not to become priest to the young people.”

This is nowhere seen as much as it is in the realm of biblical counselors. When I was an intern at Tenth Presbyterian Church, I asked Paul Tripp for advice in biblical counseling. I’ll never forget the line he threw out: “Don’t become the fourth member of the Trinity for people.” This is one of the real dangers we face when we broach this subject.

I would take Miller and Tripp’s warnings even further. I believe that we can do this with any wise and sympathetic Christian friend–not simply with pastors and biblical counselors. When we’ve found a godly and compassionate ear—even the ear of someone who will pray for us—we can all too easily start to go to that person for relief of a guilty conscience and then not go to Christ for forgiveness. When we do the former and not the latter, we have fallen into the trap of turning a friend into a personal priest.

2. There is a danger of inadvertently tempting others, or being tempted ourselves, to sin.

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick, who can know it” (Jer. 17:9). Jeremiah is not simply speaking of unregenerate men and women–though it is supremely true of them. While the believer has been given a new heart and is a new creation in Christ, he or she still has a sin nature. We are, as Luther aptly put it, simul iustus et peccator (simultaneously just and sinful). Since this is so, the Scriptures give us warnings about how one believer may be tempted to sin by the sin of another believer. For instance, in Galatians 6:1, the Apostle Paul writes, “Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted.” Paul warns against the danger of adopting a self-righteous response when he warns, “Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted.” We are ever in danger of falling into sin even as we seek to help others who have sin in their lives. While Galatians 6:1 is speaking of confronting a sinning brother or sister about his or her sin, it has application to how we might respond to someone confessing sin to us as well. This is seen in the way in which the Corinthian congregation was initially responding to the repentant brother who had been previously excommunicated. When he returned and confessed his sin publicly, Paul charged the congregation:

“For such a one, this punishment by the majority is enough, so you should rather turn to forgive and comfort him, or he may be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. So I beg you to reaffirm your love for him. For this is why I wrote, that I might test you and know whether you are obedient in everything. Anyone whom you forgive, I also forgive. Indeed, what I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, has been for your sake in the presence of Christ, so that we would not be outwitted by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his designs” (2 Cor. 2:6-11).

There is also a very real danger of falling into the same sin that is being confessed to you by virtue of coming into contact with too many details about a particular sin in the life of another. Jude may have this in mind when he says, “Have mercy on those who doubt; save others by snatching them out of the fire; to others show mercy with fear, hating even the garment stained by the flesh” (Jude 22-23). On the phrase, “Hating even the garments stained by the flesh,” Calvin noted:

[Jude] would have the faithful not only to beware of contact with vices, but that no contagion might reach them, he reminds them that everything that borders on vices and is near to them ought to be avoided: as, when we speak of lasciviousness, we say that all excitements to lusts ought to be removed. The passage will also become clearer, when the whole sentence is filled up, that is, that we should hate not only the flesh, but also the garment, which, by a contact with it, is infected.¹

As Calvin explains, “When we speak of lasciviousness, we say that all excitements to lust ought to be removed,” so we must realize that we may be tempting a brother or sister to fall if, in the act of confessing sin, we inadvertently stir up in their own sinful desires by speaking in too much depth about a particular sin. There is a call for great caution here.

When I was a new believer, a friend of mine told me about interactions she had with a team that she was a part of on a  short term mission trip that she had recently taken. One of the things she shared, that I found to be extremely odd–if not troubling–was that the group (made up of men and women) had committed to coming together every morning to confess ways that they had sinned against each other in thought or word. That sounded like a complete recipe for disaster to me. I think that I would prefer not to know every time someone thought, “Nick’s a jerk. I really don’t like it when he does this or this or that.” There may be a need to go personally to a brother and sister privately and confess a bitter or envious spirit, but to sit in a circle and do so seems entirely unwise. Additionally, if one of the less mature men said something like, “I lusted after several of the women here this week” that would potentially lead to an adulterous outbreak. Years ago, I heard the story about a minister who had embraced the idea of complete transparency with his congregation in the name of “confess your sins to one another.” One Sunday he stood up and said, “I have to confess sin to you all this morning before the service. I lusted after five of the wives in the congregation.” Not only would this lead to potential adultery, it might also  tempt the single women in the congregation—who have chalked their singleness up to a lack of physical attraction—to sinful despair. Whatever James has in mind when he says, “Confess your sins to one another,” this much we can say—surely this is not it.

Duty

If James does not teach treating pastor and congregation as priest for penance, or confession of sin in undifferentiated settings, what does he have in mind? Clearly we can say that there is a duty involved in the words of the text. It is a command for us to confess our sins to certain individuals. Thomas Manton, in his commentary on James, gives three principles concerning when and to whom we we ought to confess our sin.

1. We are to confess sin publicly before the elders and/or the church if it is scandalous and harms the ministry of the Gospel.

This is an indisputable truth associated with the words of James 5:16. This is part of the discipline process appointed by the Lord Jesus (Matt. 18:15-19). It is clear that at some point the man who was excommunicated from the church in Corinth returned, confessed his sin publicly and asked to be restored to the fellowship (2 Cor. 2:5-11).

Thomas Manton wrote:

“Upon public scandals after admission, for of secret things the church judges not; but those scandalous acts, being faults against the church, cannot be remitted by the minister alone, the offense being public; so was the confession and acknowledgment to be public, as the apostle saith of the incestuous Corinthian, that “his punishment was inflicted by many” (2 Cor. 2:6). And he bids Timothy, “Rebuke open sinners in the face of all” (1 Tim. 5:28), which Aquinas refers to ecclesiastical discipline. Now, this was to be done, partly for the sinner’s sake, that he might be brought to the more shame and conviction; and partly because of them without, that the community of the faithful might not be represented as an ulcerous, filthy body; and the church not be thought a receptacle of sin, but a school of holiness: and therefore, as Paul shook off the viper, so these were to be cast out, and not received again, but upon solemn acknowledgment. So Paul urges: “A little leaven leavens the whole lump” (1 Cor. 5:6); and, “Lest many be defiled,” &c. (Heb. 12:15): in which places he doth not mean so much the contagion of their ill example, as the taint of reproach, and the guilt of the outward scandal, by which the house and body of Christ was made infamous.²

2. We are to confess sin privately to those we have sinned against and with.

Again, Manton explained:

Private confession to men; and so, 1. To a wronged neighbor, which is called a turning to him again after offense given (Luke 17:4), and prescribed by our: “Leave thy gift before the altar, and be first reconciled to thy brother” (Matt. 5:24). God will accept no service or worship at our hands, till we have confessed the wrong done to others. So here, “Confess your faults one to another.” It may be referred to injuries: in contentions there are offences on both sides, and every one will stiffly defend his own cause, &c, 2. To those to whom we have consented in sinning, as in adultery, theft, &c, we must confess and pray for each other: Dives in hell would not have his brethren come to that place of torment (Luke 16:28). It is but a necessary charity to invite them that have shared with us in sin to a fellowship in repentance.³

3. We are to confess sin to appointed, godly and/or trustworthy persons in the church.

Here, Manton left us some beneficial concluding thoughts when he wrote:

To a godly minister, or wise Christian, under deep wounds of conscience. It is but folly to hide our sores till they be incurable. When we have disburdened ourselves into the bosom of a godly friend, conscience finds a great deal of ease. Certainly they are then more capable to give us advice, and can the better apply the help of their counsel and prayers to our particular case, and are thereby moved to the more pity and commiseration; as beggars, to move the more, will not only represent their general want, but uncover their sores. Verily it is a fault in Christians not to disclose themselves, and be more open with their spiritual friends, when they are not able to extricate themselves out of their doubts and troubles. You may do it to any godly Christians, but especially to ministers, who are solemnly entrusted with the power of the keys, and may help you to apply the comforts of the word, when you cannot yourselves.⁴

^{1. John Calvin Commentary on Jude↩ 2. Thomas Manton A Practical Commentary, or An Exposition with Notes of the Epistle of James (London: Hamilton, Adams and Co., 1840) pp. 424-425↩ 3. Ibid.↩ 4. Ibid.↩}

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Rev. Nicholas T. Batzig is the organizing pastor of New Covenant Presbyterian Church in Richmond Hill, Ga. Nick grew up on St. Simons Island, Ga. In 2001 he moved to Greenville, SC where he met his wife Anna, and attended Greenville Presbyterian Theological Seminary. He writes regularly at Feeding on Christ and other online publications. Follow him on Twitter: @Nick_Batzig

Originally published at Feeding on Christ. Used with permission.

Temptations During Difficulties

“And they woke him and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’” (Mark 4:38b).

It is easy to ridicule the disciples at this point, to see them in some sense as being quite dramatic. But the text does not tell us the ride is bumpy. It tells us that the boat is filling with water from the waves. If it were you or I in that boat, even if Jesus were in the flesh with us, nine times out of ten fear would trump theology. In a situation like the one described, terror is practically instinctual. In the middle of a raucous storm, boat taking on water, “We’re all gonna die!” is not a punch line. It’s a valid prediction.

And yet, Jesus is sleeping. Like the disciples, I can’t get over this. How tired do you have to be to sleep through getting knocked about in the stern of a jostling boat, getting water sloshed on you from the rising level in the bilge, let alone thunder and the frantic shouting of your friends? There is, in a way, something quite comic about this passage. And it makes the disciples’ question sort of humorous. I assume there is a level of anger in it, a smidgen of sarcasm added to the terror: “Don’t you care that we’re dying?”

Does that sound at all like any of your prayers? Does it at all resemble your theology these days? “This stuff must be happening because God doesn’t care about me.”

Two Temptations in the Midst of Difficulty

The cry of the disciples is as common as the human heart. Their question evinces two great temptations we face in the midst of any difficulty.

First, we are often tempted in trouble to equate worry with concern. Just as the disciples leap to conclusions about Jesus’s sleeping, you and I tend to get very frustrated when others refuse to get infected with our anxiety. I’ve counseled quite a few married couples, for instance, who have wandered into a communication standoff in part because the wife has mistaken her husband’s failure to mirror her nervousness as failure to care about the issues involved. Sometimes explaining the different ways men and women tend to process information and deal with stress helps to clear the air, as does encouraging husbands to be more vocal about their thoughts and feelings with their wives. But very often the essential breakdown comes from logic like this: “This is a very big deal. That’s why I’m freaking out about it. You must not think it’s a very big deal because you’re not freaking out.”

The reality is that sometimes people share our concern without sharing our worry. That’s a good thing. And it’s quite Christlike. Remember that worry is forbidden for the Christian (Matt. 6:25; Phil. 4:6) and that it won’t get you anywhere anyway.

And as in Mark 4, Jesus may come to your pity party, but he won’t participate. He will sit by you, loving you, caring about you, and overseeing all of your troubles, but he won’t for a second share in your anxiety unless you’re trying to get rid of it.

There is a reason the most repeated command in the Bible is “Be not afraid.”

The second temptation we face when going through enormous difficulty is more directly theological: we tend to assume that a loving God would not let us suffer.

There is perhaps no line of thinking more dangerous, more insidious, and more utterly unchristian than this one. The cry “Do you not care that I’m perishing?” becomes the accusation “I’m perishing and you don’t care,” which gives way to disavowal: “If there is a God, I don’t want anything to do with him. He is cruel.”

Where we get the idea that Christianity excludes suffering, I don’t rightly know. It likely comes mostly from our flesh, from our prideful idolization of comfort and pleasure. It comes somewhat from just plain ol’ crappy doctrine. It certainly does not come from the Bible.

The Cross Is Laid on Every Christian

In the story of the man whose house is built on the rock (Matt. 7:24–27), the firm foundation does not keep the storm away. In fact, according to the Scriptures, being a Christian means being willing to take on more suffering than the average person. Not only must we endure the same pains, stresses, and diseases of every other mortal, but we agree to take on the added burden of insults, hardships, and persecutions on account of our faith. Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes:

The cross is laid on every Christian. The first Christ-suffering which every man must experience is the call to abandon the attachments of this world. It is that dying of the old man which is the result of his encounter with Christ. As we em- bark upon discipleship we surrender ourselves to Christ in union with his death—we give over our lives to death. Thus it begins; the cross is not the terrible end to an otherwise god-fearing and happy life, but it meets us at the beginning of our communion with Christ. When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.

The call to discipleship, in other words, is not an invitation for one of those popular Christian cruises. I can see the advertisement in the Christian magazine now:

Jesus! Shuffleboard! Seafood Buffet! Join Jesus Christ and twelve other influential teachers for seven luxurious days and six restful nights on the maiden voyage of our five-star, five- story ship of dreams, the S.S. Smooth Sailing. Enjoy karaoke with your favorite psalmists on the lido deck or splash your cares away in our indoor water park with a safe crowd of people who look just like you!

Instead, Jesus calls us into nasty crosswinds in a boat specifically designed to make us trust totally in him. And if the boat even appears to offer safety from the waves, Jesus may actually call us out of it and into the sea (Matt. 14:29). But in either place, he will be there with us, not to help us worry but to help us believe. Thus, it is imperative that we have our theology straight before we even get in the boat.

—

Jared C. Wilson (@jaredcwilson) is Becky’s husband and Macy and Grace’s daddy, and also the pastor of Middletown Springs Community Church in Middletown Springs, Vermont and the author of the books Gospel Wakefulness, Your Jesus is Too Safe, Abide, Seven Daily Sins, Gospel Deeps, The Pastor’s Justification, and The Story-Telling God. He blogs almost daily at The Gospel-Driven Church.

Excerpt taken from Jared Wilson, The Wonder-Working God, Crossway, ©2014. Used by permission. http://www.crossway.org

Suffering Nails Truth to the Heart

It was the night before Easter Sunday (arguably the best day of the year) and I was planning to prepare my heart to celebrate the Lord’s resurrection the following day. Instead, I ended up lying in a hospital bed hooked to an IV receiving the usual cocktail the doctors give me for migraines. In the past, that would have been the opportune moment to hit play on my usual “woe is me” self-talk. But during those long hours in the emergency room, as I came in and out from the tranquilizing effects of the medications, something rather astounding happened—I began to preach the gospel to myself. The following three gospel truths particularly ministered to me that night and have become regular tracks that I play over and over as I learn to preach the gospel amidst my suffering.

Three Gospel Truths

1. I am not being punished

In the midst of pain there is a very real temptation to believe that God is punishing you. I’ve wrestled with debilitating migraines for seven years and my immediate response is to frantically search my life for some secret sin I’ve committed. I fall into the trap of believing that if I’m good I’ll be rewarded and if I’m bad I’ll be punished. In my legalism, I equate pain with God’s punishment. Yet, I’m missing an essential component in my religious equation—the gospel. The gospel tells me that I don’t simply do “bad things”; rather, apart from Christ I am bad. Scripture is clear on this point. I was “alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds” (Col. 1:21). I was “dead in the trespasses and sins” in which I once walked (Eph. 2:1-2). By my very nature I was a child “of wrath” (Eph. 2:3). I was under God’s just condemnation and there was nothing I could do to work my way out of this death sentence “for by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight” (Rom. 3:20). Theologically speaking, if I think migraines are a just punishment for my sin then I have fully underestimated the gravity of sin. In terms of punishment, I don’t simply deserve migraines—I deserve death and hell.

But it doesn’t stop there. The gospel is good news for a reason.

God put Jesus forward as the propitiation for sin so that we might be “justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 3:24). This means that though I was alienated from God he has now reconciled me to himself “in his (Christ’s) body of flesh by his death” (Col. 1:21). Though I was dead in my sins deserving of God’s punishment, he made me “alive together with Christ” (Eph. 2:5). Do you see what Scripture is proclaiming? Christ came as our substitute and suffered the penalty of our sin so that we no longer experience the punishment of God’s wrath. Though God disciplines those he loves (Heb. 12:6), he poured out his punishment conclusively upon his Son at the cross. If you have been united with Christ, you no longer bear the punishment for your sins for “he himself bore our sins in his body on the tree” (1 Pet. 2:24).

You will never be punished because Jesus was punished in your place.

Therefore, pain is not punishment from God, nor is it a sign of his disapproval. In Christ you have unconditional acceptance and approval before the Father. This has significant ramifications for believers as we suffer in this lifetime. Whether it is migraines or cancer or panic attacks, we stand on the truth that God is not punishing us. Because of our union with Christ, God is for us (Rom. 8:31) and nothing (not even pain) can “separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:39).

2. I am not alone

Pain can be terribly isolating leading to feelings of loneliness and despair. I do not fully understand it nor can I rationally explain it, but when I suffer physically I inevitably suffer spiritually and emotionally. Were it not for Jesus, I think pain could result in feelings of total defeat. But the gospel reminds us that Jesus shared in our physical and emotional pain. His suffering was certainly more than that (i.e. absorbing the wrath of God), but never less. Jesus left the glories of heaven to take “the form of a servant” and be “born in the likeness of men” (Phil. 2:7). He shared in “flesh and blood” and “he himself partook of the same things” that we endure (Heb. 2:14). He was “made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest” (Heb. 2:17). Jesus is able to sympathize with our weaknesses (Heb. 4:15) because he knows what it is like to suffer in the flesh. Hebrews 5:7 says, “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death . . . ” Jesus understands what it’s like to cry out in agony in unmitigated pain.

How many times have you prayed “with loud cries and tears” to the Father for relief and yet your pleas seemed to ring hollow? How many times have you thought to yourself, “God is able to take this from me and he chooses not to”? How many times have you felt abandoned by God in your suffering and wondered where he was? Those subjective feelings can seem so real in the moment, but the objective truth is that God through Christ has drawn near to us. We can be sure that God hears our cries because we have an intercessor in heaven that identifies with us (Heb. 7:25).

Because of this, we are never alone in our pain. Our sufferings can be a means by which we draw nearer to Jesus, our great High Priest, as he intercedes on our behalf (Heb. 4:14-16). There seems to be a sweet closeness with Jesus for those uniquely qualified by pain. I’ve been a Christian for twelve years and have joyfully celebrated Easter every one of those years, but this year I savored Christ’s sufferings in a new way. I was richly comforted by the fact that my Lord had walked the path of pain so that he might become my merciful High Priest before the throne of God. It gave me peace to know that Jesus didn’t only suffer for me, but he also suffered with me.

Think about that—we have a God who left heaven to come alongside us and suffer among us.

3. I have the hope of the resurrection.

Pain has a way of shrinking perspective. It can cause us to fold in on ourselves. We become so obsessed with feeling better (physically or emotionally) that we lose sight of the bigger picture. The gospel reminds us that pain is not the final word for those in Christ—resurrection is! Our ultimate hope is not in this world or in finding temporary healing for our mortal bodies; it is in the re-creation of all things, including our bodies and minds. God did not create us for sickness and pain and mortality. Death and pain came through Adam’s first sin (Gen. 3) and now “in Adam all die” (1 Cor. 15:22). But the gospel declares that Christ defeated Satan, sin, and death and in his resurrection we see the first-fruits of what is to come (1 Cor. 15:20, 23)—a bodily resurrection. The Bible testifies that those “in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor. 15:22) on that final day when the “perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality” (1 Cor. 15:54). Christian, this is our greatest hope.

Full redemption is coming!

This doesn’t mean that we don’t do everything within our means to relieve and alleviate severe emotional and physical pain. But to put all of our hope in temporary healing is to lose eternal perspective. There’s greater glory still to come. We must realize that “the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Rom. 8:18). Beware of preaching a gospel that is too narrow in its scope. The gospel message isn’t simply “get saved and go to heaven when you die.” Instead, the gospel declares that in Christ God rights all wrongs. He renews all things. A new heaven and a new earth are coming. And on that new earth we will live in our fully redeemed, resurrected, and glorified bodies.

Then, “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Rev. 21:4). That’s what we really desire, isn’t it? We “who have the first-fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies” (Rom. 8:23). There’s a sense in which I have come to see my migraines as my body’s way of groaning for full redemption. Chronic pain and disease and anxiety are all a part of this groaning. This isn’t the way life was supposed to be and our bodies know it. Thus, pain points us forward towards that final day when death will be swallowed up in victory and all things will be made new. In many ways, pain has taught me what it means to cry out with so many saints throughout history, “Come, Lord Jesus!” (Rev. 22:20).

So What Do Migraines Have to Do With the Gospel?

I find that it’s quite easy to believe these gospel truths on a “good day.” But then migraines come and render me powerless. It’s illuminating to see how insecure and anxious I become when I cannot produce. It reveals that much of my confidence comes from my performance and not from Jesus’ finished work. When I cannot physically perform I’m confronted with the dissonance between the theology I affirm and the theology I practice. Consequently, migraines have become one of the means by which God takes my good theology and drives it into my heart. It’s an opportunity, if you will, to really believe the truths that I confess. This certainly isn’t limited to migraines. Maybe you, like me, struggle with chronic physical pain. Or perhaps you have wrestled with panic attacks your whole life. Maybe you have to live with food allergies or suffer from an autoimmune disease. Or possibly you’re battling stage four cancer and all my groaning about migraines seems minor league. Pain and suffering, physical and emotional, come in all sorts of packages. Each person will suffer differently in this lifetime, but in every instance pain presents us with a unique opportunity to believe the glorious truths of the good news of Jesus Christ in a deeper way.

I have found that we can play the woe is me audio all day long (please realize I’m not diminishing the reality of suffering!), which leads to despair and discouragement. Or we can choose to rehearse the gospel to ourselves, which leads to life and godliness. It’s in those raw moments, the ones that are truly beyond our limitations, that we are provided with some of the most fertile soil to plant seeds of gospel truths in our hearts. And it is those seeds that fuel our affections for Christ and supply us with the foundation for a long life of faithfulness. I’m not saying I like migraines, but I am saying if there is anything in this world (including suffering) that can help train my obstinate head and hard heart to better understand what God did for me in Christ during that great exchange on the cross I want to welcome it with my entire being. And so, in that sterile hospital room on Easter’s eve, I chose a different path amidst my pain and preached these truths to myself. As it turns out, come Sunday morning, my heart was more prepared than ever before to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection.

—

Whitney Woollard has served in ministry alongside her husband Neal for over six years. She holds an undergraduate degree in Biblical Studies from Moody Bible Institute and just finished her Master of Arts in Biblical and Theological Studies from Western Seminary. She is passionate about equipping disciples to read and study God’s Word well resulting in maturing affections for Jesus and his gospel message. Neal and Whitney currently live in Portland, OR where they love serving the local church. Follow her on Twitter @whitneywoollard.

Setting Your Heart at Rest

This is how we know that we belong to the truth and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence: If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. Dear friends, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God  and receive from him anything we ask, because we keep his commands and do what pleases him.

—1 John 3:19-22

Condemned.

That is how I felt when I received the note in class one day “to meet with the Assistant Principal.” As I made my way to the office, my heart was beating out of my chest. I assumed everything I had ever done at high school was about to be laid out before me. As I made my way into the office and sat down, my heart was restless and anxious, prepared for the worst. I couldn’t even remember doing anything to get myself in trouble, but that did little to calm my increasingly antsy nervous system.

“Hey R.D., I want to talk with you about the senior banquet coming up in a few weeks and some ideas I had to help make it come together,” said the Assistant Principal.

“Yes, that is exactly what I want to talk about as well,” I sputtered out. This was going to be a much better meeting that I imagined. My heart could rest easy again.

The sense of condemnation and restlessness before my meeting with the Assistant Principal is often how I feel in the presence of God and I believe how many Christians feel as well. If God dropped you a note right now and said it is time to come into my office, how would your heart feel? What would your emotions be? If the invitation from the great throne room came to you, would you feel condemned? How our hearts are set in the presence of God can tell you a lot about how deeply (or not) you are experiencing the gospel within your heart.

John is writing to Christians in his first letter to encourage them to have confidence and assurance in the presence of God. He writes that remind us “how to set our hearts at rest in his presence.” John is telling us that we do not naturally set our hearts to rest in God’s presence, but we must work at it; we must learn how to “set” our hearts at rest.

Why do we struggle to be at rest in the presence of a God? Because our hearts condemn us. John writes that our hearts will condemn us when we truly come into the presence of God (1 Jn. 3:20). When we truly come into the presence of absolute perfection and excellence, our hearts will tell us how far short we fall of  that perfection and excellence. When Isaiah catches a vision of God in the temple he doesn’t run up to him to get a hug, he nearly falls apart, crying out “Woe is me! I am ruined!” (Is. 6:5). This is how you know you have come into the presence of God. When the light of God’s glory truly shines on you, your immediate reaction will be a desire to turn the lights off.

I remember when I had terrible acne in high school. I would wake up every morning and walk into my bathroom to turn on the lights. When all the lights turned on, all the impurities of my face were evident. There was no hiding and it was embarrassing. So for a while I simply turned on a single light to dim the lights, in a vain attempt to pretend that if I couldn’t see all the pimples then they might not actually be there.

But in the presence of God, the lights are fully on and we see ourselves for who we truly are, pimples and all. And our hearts rightly condemn us. The accusations fly from our hearts as we begin to seek God and pray to God, “You call yourself a Christian after the week you had?” Our hearts begin to bring up our sins, our brokenness, our guilt before God to accuse us and weary us as we honestly try and seek him.

We all experience this condemnation to differing degrees at different stages in our lives and we all counsel with people who experience condemning hearts as well. The reason John writes then is to provide a gospel remedy for our condemning hearts so that our hearts can rest in our Father’s presence.

A Gospel Remedy

“God is greater than our hearts...”

First, John reassures our hearts before God. God is greater than your heart, he is greater than your momentary feelings of guilt and shame. John reminds us that what God says about you is greater and truer than what you say about you. It can be easy to elevate our feelings, our emotions, our very hearts over the truth of who God says we are, but John tells us we cannot do that and be at rest. We need a greater word, a deeper anchor for our hearts in order to find rest.

Religion and irreligion are both recipes for restlessness. Religion promises rest for your heart by working, doing, thinking, and acting rightly. Religion comes to our hearts saying, “You can get over your guilt by working really hard at being a moral and righteous person so that the guilt of being immoral and unrighteous leaves.” But this is madness. How many good deeds and good thoughts does it take to truly put our hearts at rest? We can never know and, therefore, we remain, ultimately, restless in our path out of condemnation through the remedy of religion.

Irreligion promises that you don’t need a god to remove the guilt you feel, you only need you. You are the one who is able to remove the guilt by embracing who you are and by pursuing things which make you happy. But this is another recipe for restlessness. Here you simply replace a religious god with a secular one—in romance, approval, or wealth. But a new relationship, a new car, or a new job eventually lose its luster, and the reality of who you are, suppressed for a while, returns with a saddening vengeance.

We need something beyond religion and irreligion to deal with the crushing reality that whatever the standard is, we don’t measure up and whatever it is we think will put us at rest only makes us more restless. We need a greater word about us to hold onto.

This greater word is the word of God—the truth that we are created in God’s image (Gen. 1:26-27), saved by God’s grace (Eph. 2:8), adopted into God’s family (1 Jn. 3:1), and able to approach God’s throne with full confidence because of Jesus (Heb. 4:16). These are the gospel promises that we must make greater than our hearts and truer than our feelings. The remedy to the religion of work is to rest in the work of Christ for you. The remedy to the irreligion of the pursuit of pleasure is to rest in the beauty of the ultimate pleasure—Jesus Christ.

When we behold the greatness of God’s promises for us through Jesus we are able to begin setting our hearts at rest, knowing that our feelings betray us, but God is greater than our feelings of guilt, shame, and condemnation. That precious promise is not the only one that John reminds us of, he moves on to remind us of another.

“...and He knows everything.”

Second, God knows everything about us, absolutely everything. God is not surprised by anything that we have ever done. He has never looked out from the throne to say, “How did this happen? Why did you do that? I would never have saved you if I had know you would act like that?” No, he knows all about us and yet he still loves us.

We are often like Aladdin, continually fearing that when we are exposed for who we truly are, the people we love the most will desert us. You remember Aladdin right? Are you singing “A Whole New World” right now? I know you are—I digress. In the movie, Aladdin falls in love with Princess Jasmine, but doesn’t tell her the truth about his identity, that he is just a common peasant and not a prince. He enlists the help of the Genie in order to become something more than he is, but eventually the weight of hiding who he truly is wearies his soul. We see the exhaustion of hiding his identity come out in a conversation with the Genie towards the end of the film.

Aladdin: They wanna make me Sultan. No, they want to make Prince Ali Sultan. Without you, I’m just Aladdin.

Genie: Al, you won.

Aladdin: Because of you. The only reason anyone thinks I’m worth anything is because of you. What if they find out I’m not really a prince? What if Jasmine finds out? I’d lose her. Genie, I can’t keep this up on my own.

We can’t keep up hiding on our own as well. The liberating news of the gospel is that we don’t have to hide who we truly are because God knows everything. We have already been found out! There we stand before the God of the universe exposed! But now we have “confidence before him” (1 Jn. 3:21) because though he knows everything, he still loves us. How can we be sure of this? Because of the truth of 1 John 3:16, “This is how we know what love is, Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.”

Jesus Christ laid down his life for us, to bear the condemnation from God that we deserve so that we would not bear it. This is why Paul writes that “therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:1). So now our hearts are put to rest toward God and God’s heart is put to rest towards us forever, and in the presence of God we can be vulnerable and honest, laying our whole lives bare before him and trusting that he will do what is good for us. We know that the Holy Spirit is here not to condemn us, but to convict us and remind us of the grace of Jesus and not the guilt of our sin.

The Liberating Rest

When we enter the presence of God through prayer or when we think of who God is in all his glory and beauty our hearts may condemn us and tell us that we are unworthy of his love or that we have no right to ask things of this God because of how we have been behaving, we must remember the gospel remedy in what Christ has done for us. We must remember the liberating truth that “God is greater than our hearts and he knows everything.”

We are not under guilt. We are under grace and so when the note from God comes to us, to enter into his presence and the voices in our heart rise up to condemn us we can confidently say with Paul “Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” (Rom. 8:33-35a).

The answer of the Holy Spirit in Scripture is no one. And we can rest in that.

—

R.D. McClenagan is a teaching pastor at Door Creek Church in Madison, WI where he lives with his wife Emily and their increasingly adorable twin baby daughters Maisie and Camille. Follow him on Twitter: @rdmcclenagan.

Seeking Extra-Biblical Humility

My church raised me to love the Bible and all its stories, but didn’t talk much about tradition, or the historic creeds, confessions, and catechisms. I learned the Bible every week, but I was missing out on what my spiritual grandparents had to offer me. It wasn’t until seminary that the significance of what came before me began to sink in. That’s when I discovered my need for what I like to call extra-biblical humility. Extra-biblical humility is a humble respect and gratitude for all that God has provided for the health and vitality of his Church outside of the biblical canon. This means respecting and caring about words like dogma, doctrine, and theology. It means cherishing our rich heritage as evangelical Christians by paying attention to more than just our Bibles. It means recognizing the call for all of this is grounded in Scripture itself, as 2 Corinthians 13:5a says, “Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves.”

Up until seminary I had shown a willingness and desire to read my Bible and pray, but not much else besides reading a few modern Christian books and listening to my pastor preach. In so doing, I left some blind spots unguarded. If you feel like you only need to know your Bible and those who care about theology are slightly less holy than you, than you might have these same blind spots. Our weakness comes from redefining sola Scriptura from “no authority over the Bible” into “no authority except the Bible.”¹

When my sister-in-law started college in Boston, she met a group of people who knew their Bibles from back to front. They were zealous for God, called themselves a church, but something about their beliefs didn’t seem right. They told her she had to be baptized to be saved and their’s was the only baptism that counted. After all, Ephesians 4:5 says “one Lord, one faith, one baptism” so someone must have the one true baptism. Warning sirens! The group my sister-in-law ran into was a very real cult. But how did they get to a place of such poor theology? They got there, and we can too, by placing our personal interpretation of the Bible next to the Bible in importance.

Where then should our beliefs and practices come from? We first want them to come from the Word of God, but where should we check our beliefs to make sure they’re right? Where should our interpretation fall in comparison to other teachings? Michael Horton, in his systematic theology, unpacks a “proper order:”²

“(1) the Scriptures as the infallible canon, qualitatively distinct from all other sources and authorities;”

A healthy Christian belief system rich in extra-biblical humility is like a house. The Bible is the rock upon which we build our home. It is where we build our theology, not around it, but upon it. This differs from Roman Catholicism which puts Scripture and tradition on par. We test everything we believe today to make sure it stands upon God’s word.

“(2) under this magisterial norm, the ministerial service of creeds and confessions;”

The creeds and confessions are the foundation from which the house that is evangelical belief, practice, and personal interpretation should rise. Various traditions will hold to their own specific confession, like the Westminster, Savoy, or London, but we should all hold to the early creeds. This is why we need to recite the Apostles’ and Nicene creeds often. Catechisms like the Heidelberg or more modern New City also function as checks for our beliefs. All of these help us stand firm within the circle of orthodox Christian belief.

“(3) contemporary proclamation of God’s Word in the church around the world;”

We now build the structure of our home with the global preaching of pastors and teachers. As a pastor in America, I have a different perspective on God’s word than pastors in Asia, but we should all preach the same good news and essential doctrines. Our explanations of the Trinity, the fall, salvation by God’s grace through faith, the inerrancy of Scripture, substitutionary atonement, and more, although contextualized, should mean the same thing.

“(4) Long-standing interpretations in the tradition;”

Our house rises higher with traditional interpretations of God’s word. Our home is almost built, but not without caring about the past and what it declared to be right belief. Have you just created a brand-new theology that solves everything? Be wary. If you think the Church has really gotten it wrong up to this point, then you could be right, but you could also be undercutting the role of the Holy Spirit as he sustains the ministry and belief of the Church.

“(5) the particular nuances of individual theologians.”

At the top we come to individual theologians. We all have pastors, elders, preachers, theologians, and popular authors we like. It’s often tempting to put their interpretations of God’s Word on par with Scripture, but we should always be careful in doing so. When our favorites preach a biblically true sermon, they too preach authoritatively, but their interpretation should not deviate from the rest of the house, especially the creeds and essentials.

Finally, we come to you, the chimney. Consider that a chimney isn’t just on the roof, it is laid at the ground level and is built through the house. It works with the rest of the house to heat the home and give life to the faith. Your faith won’t align with every corner of the building, but it shouldn't ignore its place or a fire could start in the wrong location. When viewed from the outside, the chimney appears small in comparison to the rest of the house. For many evangelical Christians, we are simply a chimney on a hill, which is more like a fire pit than a home. This brings glory to us and our interpretation instead of glory to God and the Holy Spirit’s work in the Church.

A Rich Heritage to Mature Disciples

The Word of God is sufficient for faith and practice, but God has also given us a rich heritage to guard, protect, and mature us as disciples. Let’s make sure we and our churches understand the importance of what has come before us by reciting creeds in our worship services, teaching catechisms in our children and adult Sunday schools, and explaining orthodoxy from the pulpit. Knowing what’s come before and having extra-biblical humility is a sign of a humble and mature disciple. It’s a sign to those you are discipling that you don’t have all the answer and ultimately points them back to Christ and to the community of faith who looked to Christ before us.

When I arrived at seminary, I didn’t have much extra-biblical humility. I couldn’t have told you much about dogma, doctrine, or theology, but the more I learned about the history of the Church and all it has to offer, the more grateful I became. When I realized I didn’t have to figure out everything anew for myself, it gave me the freedom to enjoy, study, and discover the Bible in a whole new light because I knew I was safeguarded by historic orthodox belief.

—

Jonathan M. Romig (M.Div., Gordon-Conwell) is the associate pastor at Immanuel Church in Chelmsford Massachusetts (CCCC). He blogs at PastorRomig.blogspot.com and recently finished teaching New City Catechism to his adult Sunday school class and self-published his first ebook How To Give A Christian Wedding Toast.

^{1. Gary Parrett and J.I. Packer, Grounded in the Gospel: Building Believers the Old-Fashioned Way (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 2010), 68-69.↩}

^{2. Michael S. Horton, The Christian Faith: a Systematic Theology for Pilgrims On the Way (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2011), 218.↩}

Making Sense of Scripture’s Storyline

HOW TO MAKE SENSE OF THE BIBLE?

We all know to some extent that a fundamental component to becoming a gospel-centered disciple is learning to read and study the Word of God. Yet, which one of us can honestly say that we have not struggled at times to do exactly that? It may not be that we lack the desire to hear from God in his Word, but every time we open the Bible we become confused, distracted, or frustrated leading to an overall sense of despair. We are immediately overwhelmed with all sorts of seemingly fragmented narratives, odd laws, and ancient portions of wisdom that don’t make sense to the Christian when trying to interpret it in bits and pieces—which is precisely the problem.

The Bible was never intended to be reduced to isolated events and individual stories that give us moralistic guidelines and proverbial advice. Don’t be mistaken, interpreting these bits and pieces plays an essential role to be sure, but only after understanding the sum total of these parts or the “big picture” of the Bible. Scripture tells one grand story, the story of redemption, and apart from that story much of the individual content could appear arbitrary or even absurd. Therefore, if we are to pursue Bible reading in a way that transforms us into mature disciples and plants the gospel in our hearts, we have to first identify the central storyline of the Bible. Then, and only then, will we be able to make sense of and apply the pieces.

THE STORYLINE OF SCRIPTURE

The central storyline of Scripture reveals that God is on a rescue mission to save fallen, sinful human beings from Satan, sin, and death through the coming of his Messiah. Like every good story, this story has a beginning, involves great conflict throughout, and climaxes in a glorious ending. It begins with the holy, sovereign, Triune God choosing to create the world and all that is in it out of an overflow of his goodness and loving-kindness. God created Adam and Eve in his image and bestowed upon them the unique responsibility of being his vice-regents and ruling over the earth (Gen. 1:26-28). He made them without sin to exist in perfect, intimate relationship with him and one another (Gen. 1-2). But instead of enjoying the presence of God forever, they tragically chose to believe the lies of the serpent rather than the voice of God and committed treason against the Holy One (Gen. 3:1-7).

As a result, sin and death entered the world and now all experience death, devastation, and division from that first sin (Rom. 5:12). Genesis 3:14-19 recounts the curses that came into the world through sin. The picture seems totally bleak; it’s filled with pain, misplaced desire, alienation, frustration, decay, and death. From humanity’s perspective it appears as though all is lost. But the story is not over.

Tucked inside the curses is a glorious glimmer of hope. God promises that One will come and do what our first parents failed to do—crush the serpent. Genesis 3:15 says,

I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.

This verse tells us that there is going to come One from the offspring of the woman who will crush the serpent (Satan). Though he will suffer harm, he will ultimately inflict decisive defeat over the serpent. This verse is known as the protoevangelium, the first announcement of the gospel. Don’t miss the weight of this—the gospel actually appears in the beginning of the story and shapes the hope of the entire storyline. From Genesis 3:15 on the promise of the Serpent-Crusher (a Savior/Messiah figure) is anticipated on every page of Scripture. And it is this anticipation that forms the structure of the entire Bible and drives the biblical narrative from Genesis to Revelation. This means that each time you open your Bible, whether you find yourself in the Old or New Testament, you are on a search for this great Serpent-Crusher, the One who is going to bring you the good news you so desperately need.

Day by day as you study the Scriptures learn to continually ask: Where is the Serpent-Crusher? How does this passage point towards Jesus or how was it fulfilled in Jesus? Where does this verse stand in relation to the Christ event? This practice is essential because the hope of the Messiah is what gives meaning to every narrative, every proverb, every poem, every law, every command, and every book of the Bible. Allow me to demonstrate how this plays out in the Old and New Testament.

As the storyline unfolds in the Old Testament God’s people are continually looking for the One to come, the One who would crush the serpent, overcome death, and reverse the curse. As each Old Testament character emerges it becomes evident this is not the One of whom it was promised. Regardless of their pedigree and periodic victories they inevitably disqualify themselves from being the Serpent-Crusher through their own sin and failure. And so we come to discover that characters like Cain (though the first offspring of Eve) is not the One, Isaac (though the promised son of Abraham) is not the One, Moses (though the redeemer of Israel) is not the One, Samson (though the mighty judge of Israel) is not the One, David (though the anointed king of Israel) is not the One, even Solomon (though the richest and wisest king in Israel) is not the One. As each flawed character exits our hope continues to be refined and reshaped. We discover that not only will this One be born of a woman by means of divine decree (Gen. 3:15), but he will also be a divine Son and rule as King on an eternal throne (2 Sam. 7:12-16). With every portrait presented and with each hint of this Savior disclosed our desire for his coming is intensified. Thus, we continue to look on every page of the Old Testament with great anticipation and a sense of angst for the appearance of the Serpent-Crusher.

The New Testament opens with a jaw-dropping reality, the Messiah has come but not in the manner expected. The Serpent-Crusher, the King of Israel, the One greater than Solomon was finally here and he had come in the form of a baby, God himself clothed in flesh and blood, born of humble estate. The way in which Jesus came was so counter-intuitive, so ironic, and so unexpected that few had eyes to see and receive him. Even more so, the means by which Jesus defeated the serpent was wildly misunderstood. Who could have known that he had to first be crushed to ultimately crush the serpent? Yet, as the story unfolds we discover that not only was his death the victory over Satan and demons, but his resurrection was his vindication as the sinless Son of God and the Savior of the world.

The New Testament reveals that Jesus inaugurated the kingdom, paid the penalty for sin, conquered death, and defeated Satan. He rose to life, invited his followers to participate in the greatest mission ever conceived, ascended to heaven, and then poured out his Spirit in fulfillment of the New Covenant promises. He told us that he is coming back one day for his bride. So now the church waits in eager expectation for the return of Christ, the consummation of the kingdom and the full reversal of the curse—the regeneration and recreation of all things. Best of all, the New Testament tells us how this whole story ends and the ending is really, really good. Let’s just say like in all good stories the King slays the dragon, receives the kingdom, and gets the girl.

WHY THIS STORYLINE MATTERS FOR US

The story begins in Genesis 1 and develops over thousands of years and through different cultures and contexts, but all the while it is setting the stage for the coming of the Messiah and the rescue of God’s people. Therein lies its focus—the whole Bible forms a single storyline that is inseparably connected and intended to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ from Genesis to Revelation. This means that the Old Testament is vitally important for believers today because it provides the salvation-historical context in which the gospel will come. Without understanding this desperate need for the Serpent-Crusher to come and defeat Satan, sin, and death you cannot fully appreciate nor comprehend the magnitude of the good news of Jesus Christ. At the same time, the New Testament is also essential for believers because it is only there that we discover who the Serpent-Crusher is and how he obtains victory through his sinless life, substitutionary death and vindicating resurrection. We learn that Christ is the Hero of the story—the second Adam, the true Israel, the divine Son of God, the eternal King, and the hope of the nations.

When we understand this, when we fully accept that the Bible tells one story pointing towards one Hero, only then will we be able to interpret the whole Bible and all of its parts in a manner that is cohesive, Christ-centered, and God-glorifying. If you have believed the gospel and become a follower of Jesus you need to realize that this is your story. The Bible tells the story of your redemption, of your salvation.

This story helps us to see that it was as if we were in the garden, it was as if we ourselves had rejected the Word of God and believed the lies of Satan. We all came under the curse of condemnation and became alienated from God. Each one of us stands as helpless as Adam and Eve to defeat the enemy and draw near to God on our own merit. The truth is that we simply cannot save ourselves. You cannot be your own hero anymore than I can be my own hero. But there is good news, the Serpent-Crusher has come on your behalf and has taken God’s wrath upon himself defeating sin and death so that you can be in intimate relationship to the Father. One has come to do what Adam failed to do and, ultimately, what you and I have failed to do. This is at the heart of the story—Jesus has radically succeeded where you and I have completely failed!

Understanding this changes everything, especially the way we read the Bible!

When I truly began to understand how the hope of the Serpent-Crusher was laced throughout the entire Bible my eyes were opened to the Scriptures in profound way. I started reading every part of the Bible in light of the gospel of Jesus Christ. My heart was softened and my affections were stirred so deeply by the Scriptures. I started to crave the Word; I simply had to know more about this story. I found myself learning and rehearsing the storyline of Scripture, seeing how each part of the story pointed towards Jesus. I began to realize that my own story only makes sense if it fits into the bigger storyline of Scripture. Since Christ is the ultimate reality, my narrative does not have meaning or purpose apart from his story. The two have become so closely intertwined that they are now inseparably linked. When I read the Bible I am reading the saving story of Jesus Christ while simultaneously seeing how my own story fits into his storyline. It’s absolutely transformative. Thus, I would urge every one of us to know this story—be intimately familiar with it, savor it, think on it, study it, and ultimately, allow your Bible reading and interpretation to flow from this glorious redemptive storyline.

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Whitney Woollard has served in ministry alongside her husband Neal for over six years. She holds an undergraduate degree in Biblical Studies from Moody Bible Institute and just finished her Master of Arts in Biblical and Theological Studies from Western Seminary. She is passionate about equipping disciples to read and study God's Word well resulting in maturing affections for Jesus and his gospel message. Neal and Whitney currently live in Portland, OR where they call Mars Hill Portland their church home. Follow her on Twitter @whitneywoollard.

Living in Light of the Incarnation

If we do not understand the weight of the miracle of the incarnation of Christ, it is because we do not understand the weight of the holiness of God. The incarnation is shocking. It is outrageous to think that an infinite and holy God would voluntarily become finite to live with unholy sinners. In fact, the incarnation is so appalling that it is the thing that separates Christianity from Islam and Judaism. The Jerusalem Talmud says, “If man claims to be God, he is a liar” (Ta’anit 2:1), while the Quran says, “Allah begets not and was not begotten” (Sura al-Ikhlas 112). Jews and Muslims understand how ludicrous it is to think that a holy God would humiliate himself by becoming human.

The Dreadful Holiness of God

The holiness of God is fearful. But if we want to know God and ourselves, we must begin by seeing how much God loves his holiness and cherishes his purity. If we do not start here, the gospel will become cheap to us. As A.W. Tozer wrote in The Knowledge of the Holy,

“Unless the weight of the burden is felt, the gospel can mean nothing to man; and until he sees a vision of God high and lifted up, there will be no woe and no burden. Low views of God destroy the gospel for all who hold them.”

Under the old covenant, people responded to the holiness of God with awe and reverence. When Moses met the Lord, he “hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God” (Ex 3:6). Then, years later, when he begged to see God’s glory, God said, “You cannot see my face, for man shall not see me and live” (Ex 33:20). When the ark of the Lord was being brought back to Israel, some men looked inside of it and, as a result, the Lord struck down fifty thousand men. The people despaired, “Who is able to stand before the Lord, this holy God?” (1 Sam. 6:20). When David was bringing the ark to Jerusalem, one man merely touched it, and God struck him down immediately, “And David was afraid of the Lord that day, and he said, ‘How can the ark of the Lord come to me?’” (2 Sam. 6:9). The nearer Ezekiel approached the throne of the Lord, the less sure his words became: “Such was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it, I fell on my face” (Ez 1:28).

Not only did people tremble at his holiness, the Lord himself frequently spoke about it. Through Isaiah, he said, “Who has measured the Spirit of the Lord, or what man shows him his counsel … All the nations are as nothing before him, they are accounted by him as less than nothing and emptiness” (Is 40:13, 17). When Job finished calling his character into question, the Lord answered from the whirlwind, “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? . . . Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” (Job 38:2, 4).

The Incarnation of that Dreadful Holiness

Jesus embodies the holiness of God because he is God and has been with God from the beginning (Jn 1:1-2). This means that, when God acted under the old covenant, Jesus—as part of the Godhead—was right there with him. This is why the incarnation is a shocking miracle. In Christ, God has effected self-disclosure. Our holy God, who told Moses, “for man shall not see me and live,” became incarnate. People saw him and lived.

Our holy God, who struck down a man for touching the ark and another fifty thousand for looking inside of it, became incarnate. People spit upon him and lived. Our holy God, whose throne was so magnificent that Ezekiel failed to find words to describe it, became incarnate. He was born as a baby in a manger, not a throne. Our holy God, who demanded blood sacrifices to atone for sin, became incarnate. He allowed himself to be butchered on a cross.

Our holy God, who asked Job, “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” became incarnate. He was born in an insignificant little town and worked as a mere carpenter in Nazareth.

Incarnation in Our Cities

What does the incarnation mean for us today?

First, the incarnation means that we live in the world, but not of it. As Jesus prayed for his disciples, “I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world” (Jn 17:15). In other words, we pursue holy lives of obedience and sacrifice even as we engage in our cities.

Second, the incarnation means that we seek opportunities to deny ourselves. Self-denial is not a popular topic in our culture, but it is the starting point for Christian growth in the mind of Christ. When Jesus became incarnate, he voluntarily denied himself the privileges of being God in order to be mocked and killed (Phil. 2:8). He did this because he longed to redeem us and knew that, in order to accomplish our salvation, the demands of his holiness had to be met. We could not meet them, so he met them for us. We, in turn, are to have the same mind, “do[ing] nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count[ing] others more significant than [our]selves” (Phil. 3:3). We deny ourselves to love others.

Third, the incarnation means that we do not love money. God is the richest being in the universe. Everything is made by him, through him and for him. Yet as he looked upon the world and decided into what family he would come, he chose the poorest of the poor. When Mary and Joseph went to the temple after the birth of Jesus, Luke records, “And when the time came for their purification according to the Law of Moses, they brought [Jesus] up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord. . . and to offer a sacrifice according to what is said in the Law of the Lord, ‘a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons’” (Lk 2:22-24). Under the Law, the regular sacrifice was a lamb, but there was a provision for poor mothers: “If she cannot afford a lamb, then she shall take two turtledoves or two pigeons” (Lv 12:8). This is what Mary brought. Jesus, who had all the riches of the world at his disposal, chose to be incarnate into a family that could not even afford a regular sacrifice. Let us not love riches.

Fourth, the incarnation means that we should not overvalue physical beauty. Our culture loves external appearances, but the incarnate Christ chose to come as someone who had no physical beauty or majesty. He is the most glorious person who has ever lived, but we did not recognize his glory. Thousands saw him with their eyes, but they saw nothing with their hearts. We, in turn, must look for beauty in our world with the eyes of our heart. What will we see when we look at the world this way? We will see that, today, the Lord lives in the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, and the prisoner. As Jesus taught, when we care for such people, we do this unto him.

Finally, the incarnation means that God is for us. Paul was not merely referring to the crucifixion when he wrote, “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Rom. 8:31-32). He was also referring to the incarnation, when Jesus left the side of the Father to become man and accomplish our salvation. The incarnation means that God is for us. Jesus left the Godhead and all the privileges thereof to die. He lived a humiliating and self-denying life to bring us to God, where there are pleasures forevermore (Ps 16:11). He veiled his awful and fearful holiness so that we could touch him, see him, know him, and love him. No longer does he say, “No man can see my face and live.” Today, he says, “See my face and be satisfied” (Ps 17:15).

When we live in light of the incarnation of Christ, our lives will be shocking to others. Although we are sons and daughters of the King, we must humiliate ourselves by serving others. All things may be permissible, but we will deny ourselves certain things or activities so that we can grow in our love for God and others. We will earn money, but we will strategize how to give it away for the sake of the kingdom. Living in a physical world, we will spend more effort on cultivating our inner beauty than our outer beauty. We will trust in the promises of God more than our circumstances because we know he is for us. When we live like this, people will think we are ludicrous. They will find our choices shocking. Yet we will point to the miracle of the incarnation of Christ. Our lives will testify to the great news of Advent. That news is this: Christ has come, God is with us.

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Bethany L. Jenkins is the director of TGC’s Every Square Inch and the founder of The Park Forum. She previously worked on Wall Street and on Capitol Hill. She received her JD from Columbia Law School and attends Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Manhattan, where she was a Gotham Fellow through the Center for Faith & Work. You can follow her on Twitter.

Pursuing Not-Yet-Believers

It Sent Shock Waves Throughout the Campus

As you might imagine, seminaries are full of Jesus-y people, from suit-clad conservatives to library-dwelling linguists to edgy liberals who buck the system by (hold your breath) wearing flip flops to class. Our grad school was filled with religion majors, pastors and interns, and private school teachers. Everyone was religious; most were active in some form of church; many spent spring breaks and summers in overseas missions or student ministry camps. So imagine the bombshell when a student realized he’d never actually known Jesus. Students and professors alike were stunned, then celebratory. In this instance, the student was a son of a prominent pastor, a rising star in the student ministry world, and someone who knew—and could teach—the Bible better than most of his peers. Apparently it happens more than you might expect: God redeems people who are already in seminary. And praise Him that He does!

The shock is understandable: we can easily assume that because someone is part of a Christian school, group, and church, they must be redeemed. But as today’s verses point out, their religion may be misleading. Whether you attend a seminary or Christian school, are involved with a Christian organization, or are simply part of a local church family, you regularly find yourself in some of the most forgotten places everyday mission happens: within “Christian” circles. Today we consider two elements of mission inside the Church: seeing it as an everyday mission field and getting other Christians to join you in everyday mission.

Fruit and Foundation: Marks of Faith

Today is not a license to look under every rock for false prophets and fake Christians. Only God can know the condition of souls for sure, so we approach today with great humility and much prayer. But it should spark an awareness: how many in our own circles look and act redeemed, but are deceived, even intentionally? As we pursue everyday mission in Christian circles, today’s verses offer two concurrent marks of redemption: fruit in our lives, then the foundation of our hearts.

When rightly rooted, our lives flourish with good fruit. In Luke 3, John the Baptist rebukes many who come to be baptized for a poor view of salvation. To put it in a common term today, John calls those who view Jesus as mere “fire insurance”—whose so-called salvation makes no impact on daily life—“a brood of vipers.” His charge is that those who are truly redeemed will bear fruit. The following verses are examples of this fruit: those who were selfish become generous; those who stole become honest (and in Zacchaeus’ case in Luke 19, display the gospel by reconciling brokenness they caused); those who trusted their own ability turn to God for provision. Galatians 5 explains the difference between fruit of the flesh and fruit of the Spirit. Romans 5—7 give marks of the “old man” versus the “new man.” Seen throughout the Bible, redemption leads to fruit.

On the other end of the spectrum, good works—which look like spiritual fruit—can stem from misguided motives. An early song from musical duo Shane and Shane encapsulate well the mystery of not-yet-believers existing in Christian groups: “Your child is busy with the work of God and taking him for granted / Got a lot to do today; kingdom work’s the game I play / Lord my serving You replaced me knowing You.” Religious acts, having the right answers, doing the proper things, and even looking repentant or wise can give the impression that we must be children of God. Those Jesus speaks of in Matthew 7 preached, did great works, and even performed miracles “in your name.” Yet He still never knew them. Anything but Jesus is a failing foundation of faith. Winds of truth expose our misplaced footholds, and “great [is] the fall” of even our greatest attempts. Good fruit is only good if its roots are in the right foundation.

Pursuing Not-Yet-Believers in Our Churches

Due to theological misinformation or indignant misunderstanding of salvation, mission in our churches can be tricky. Claiming that someone might not be a Christian is a bold claim, and can cause ripples. But if people in our churches and Christian circles lack fruit, we have to lovingly pursue them: it’s our responsibility as brothers and sisters who love them more than their opinion of us. Even if they are believers, they need discipleship in areas where disbelief or idols pull them from obeying God. If they are not redeemed, they need loving relationships and intentional discipleship even more. Either way, the gospel needs to redeem at least some area of their life.

Do they exhibit patterns of sinful or unwise behavior? Do they put other authorities over the authority of God? Do they seem unrepentant or uncaring toward their sin? Do they lack the desire to grow in spiritual concepts and practices? Matthew outlines a process to address such questions35. While this passage is often misunderstood, “discipline” has the same root as “disciple”: the goal of loving confrontation, humble rebuke, and gentle questions is stated throughout this passage: that the brokenness in “your brother” would be restored, to God and community. And while the final step of this process is often interpreted, “cut them out of your life,” we see in Jesus’ a far different view of “Gentile[s] and tax collector[s]” (v. 17). He didn’t throw them away; He pursued them, loved them, demonstrated the gospel to them, and sought their redemption. In other words, He encourages us to act the same toward sinners in our churches, as sinners outside our churches. . . .

As much as we acknowledge her beautiful brokenness, we believe in local churches, and their biblical leadership, place in God’s mission, and unity amongst their members. Churches are full of sinners who need to be redeemed, and sinning saints who already have been. Just like you and us. We cannot plead this point enough: let us be wise, humble, and prayerful, both as we pursue God’s mission toward those in our churches, and as we pursue mission together alongside others in them.

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Ben Connelly, his wife Jess, and their daughters Charlotte and Maggie live in Fort Worth, TX. He started and now co-pastors The City Church, part of the Acts29 network and Soma family of churches. Ben is also co-author of A Field Guide for Everyday Mission (Moody Publishers, 2014). With degrees from Baylor University and Dallas Theological Seminary, Ben teaches public speaking at TCU, writes for various publications, trains folks across the country, and blogs in spurts at benconnelly.net. Twitter: @connellyben.

(Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt from A Field Guide for Everyday Mission by Ben Connelly & Bob Roberts Jr. available from Moody Publishers starting June 2014. It appears here with the permission of the author and publisher. For free resources and preorders, visit everydaymission.net.)

The Wellspring of Love

One of the greatest sources of joy in my life is parenting my three young children. It is also one the greatest sources of chaos in my life as well. Yet, I find I can handle the messes, the sleepless nights, and even the 50,000 meals I’ll prepare for them, but what I can’t handle is the bickering. The constant picking. The small arguments over who had what first and who took apart whose Legos and why must brothers be so annoying. (I am seriously thinking about forgoing traditional baby gifts from now on. Instead I’m going to start giving something more eminently suited to parenting—a black and white striped jersey and a whistle.) In the midst of the chaos, I often find myself yelling at the top of my lungs, “Will you all just stop it?!?! Why can you just be KIND to each other?”

Legalistic Love

During one such meltdown, I had an epiphany. Here I was demanding that my children love like God loves without directing them to Him as the source of that love. And yet, the only way my children—those little image bearers themselves—will ever be able to love one another properly is as they encounter and bask in God’s love for them first. In a twisted irony, my call for them to love had morphed into legalism because I had presented it apart from the source of love.

Most of the time we associate legalism with strict adherence to a specific set of rules, but legalism is not simply choosing the letter of the law over the spirit. Legalism is any attempt to model God’s attributes apart from a relationship with Him. Legalism is trying is to be an image bearer without relying on the Image.

When we attempt to “love” apart from God, our love will only be as lasting as the current situation or our own ability to sustain it. This is why forced tolerance, political correctness, and the “just be kind” approach often feel so weak and at times, so artificial. These approaches are artificial because they are not rooted in imago dei relationship. It’s like we’re playing dress-up in our mother’s heels and pearls—clumping down the hallway, mimicking her behavior but never truly embodying it.

Christ Changes How We Love

In order to make us the fully faceted people we were meant to be, Christ must change what and how we love.  He must reshape and reorder our loves to their proper places. And to do that, He must first hold the central place in our affection.

Jesus taught that the greatest commandment is to love God supremely and that the second greatest is to love our neighbor as ourselves. Because God is supreme, we must desire Him and His approval above anything else; we must position Him as the source of our affections and acceptance; and when we do, as His image bearers, we will naturally reflect His perfect love. This is why the Scripture speaks of our new identity in terms of having a “new heart.” When Christ has first place, when we are consumed with His love, we will naturally love like He does.

And yet, unlike some believe, loving God supremely does not mean that we don’t love other things; instead it means that we love other things the way that God intends for them to be loved. This is why the second commandment follows on the heels of the first. You can only love our neighbor properly—you can only love him or her as God does—if you find your source and definition of love from God Himself. In this sense, loving your neighbor actually flows out of loving God and cannot happen in the fullness that God intends apart from Him.

But when we are transformed by intimate daily dependence on the Creator’s love, when He becomes the source, not simply the model, of the love we extend to each other, we will have vast reservoirs of love welling up inside us, overflowing for all. So the way that we come into full personhood, the way that we love as we were intended to love, is not simply to mimic God’s love, but to allow it to transform us from the inside out. And then, only then, will people know we are His disciples. They will know we belong to Him because our identity will be consumed by His; they will know we belong to Him because we will love like He loves.

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Hannah Anderson lives in the hauntingly beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. She spends her days working beside her husband in rural ministry, caring for their three young children, and scratching out odd moments to write. In those in-between moments, she contributes to a variety of Christian publications and is the author of Made for More: An Invitation to Live in God's Image (Moody, 2014). You can connect with her at her blog Sometimes a Light and on Twitter @sometimesalight.

(Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt adapted from Made for More: An Invitation to Live in God's Image by Hannah Anderson available from Moody, 2014. It appears here with the permission of the author and publisher.)

I Am Noah's Wife

I had just spent the majority of the last 36 hours at a Christian women’s conference. The conference was well done with inspiring speakers, moving worship, beautiful ambiance, and, most importantly, the coffee was really good! I was glad I went. But once I returned home I couldn’t seem to get out of the car. I just sat there in my husband’s (not awesome) 1998 Infinity with no air conditioning. Although I was burning up in the Texas heat, I just couldn’t go inside. I was stuck in the seat with my seatbelt still wrapped around me. Over and over again I kept asking myself, “How do I describe to my husband what I’ve just experienced?”

He had sacrificed a lot that weekend to make it possible for me to attend the conference. I was certain he’d love hearing about the beautiful worship I heard. He’d love to hear the glowing reports of women being challenged to be what God made them to be. I know for a fact that news of the good coffee would be a welcomed report.

How in the world could I tell him the truth--that despite all the beautiful words I heard, despite all the perfectly arranged songs I sang, and despite all the perfectly brewed coffee I drank. . . I wasn’t satisfied. I was still bored. I was still wrestling with something very deep inside my heart. Although I couldn’t quite name it, I knew it wasn’t something I  was proud of.

Eventually I did manage to collect my pamphlets and gift bag and get out of the car. As I took a deep breath and walked in the door, there he was, my husband--smiling from ear to ear! I could see the excitement on his face, his excitement to hear of my excitement. Rats! Typically I might lie a little bit. Not a bad lie. . . just a little twisting to make myself look better. I really didn’t want to seem unrighteous or ungrateful, so I wish I could’ve come up with something wonderful to say. Instead, I chose to tell the truth as best as I understood it. I know now the Holy Spirit was working powerfully to give me these words, but at the moment, it was a little weird! Are you ready for it?

Here’s what I came up with: “I am Noah’s wife.”

Yep. Insert the creepiest looking emoticon you can think of right here.

I am Noah’s wife.

You may, like Jonathan, be wondering what in the world I meant. Truthfully, it’s something I’d been chewing on for a while, but right then and there I understood the reason for my boredom. Let’s me explain.

Years ago I participated in a bible study of the book of Genesis. Oh sure, it was an amazing study. I am sure I learned a boatload of amazing truths. Wanna know what I remember most? Genesis 7:6-10:

“Noah was six hundred years old when the flood of waters came upon the earth. And Noah and his sons and his wife and his sons' wives with him went into the ark to escape the waters of the flood. Of clean animals, and of animals that are not clean, and of birds, and of everything that creeps on the ground, two and two, male and female, went into the ark with Noah, as God had commanded Noah. And after seven days the waters of the flood came upon the earth.”

Let’s think about this together. Who is Noah? Duh.

Who else was on the boat? Noah, his wife, his sons, and their wives.

What were the sons’ names? Shem, Ham, and Japheth. Yep.

What was his wife’s name? Think. . . think. . . think. . . I got nothin’.

Noah’s wife was nameless.

Hey, writer of Genesis. . . are you kidding me right now? I can understand leaving out the daughters-in-law’s names, but the wife? You can remember names like Shem, Ham, and Japheth but not the wife’s name?

I’ve always been sad for her. I mean, maybe she wasn’t as awesome in the whole “righteousness” thing as her husband, but she must have done something right. Right? I mean, she was good enough for righteous Noah to fall in love with her. She raised their children in such a way that they got access to the boat. Something must have been noteworthy about her. Right?

Well, the author of Genesis decided to leave her nameless. She’s known forever as simply “Noah’s wife.” The unnamed wife of one of the most well known men in history.

Back to real time--and here’s where it gets uncomfortable to talk about. It’s the truth though. . . and since I’m being truthful. I sat there the whole weekend trying to engage my heart in worship, but all I could think about was how much I had in common with Noah’s wife. How utterly unknown I was. Over and again I thought about my different titles: “Owen and Ellie’s mom,” “Teacher helper,” or “That girl who sews things.” Oh, I can’t leave out the most popular one, “Pastor’s wife.”

It’s crazy, but no matter how well I know a woman, no matter how many hours we spend together, and no matter how many laughs or tears we share, she will always introduce me as her pastor’s wife. Occasionally the title of friend comes in at the end, but first and foremost I’m her pastor’s wife. The nameless companion of her pastor. Are you picking up what I’m putting down?

Well, the real heartbreak came on as I watched the women on stage. Please put your grace cardigans on because this is vulnerable y’all. It might not be pretty but it’s what I got. They were all friends, and were all exercising their unique gifts on stage--together. As each one was introduced with a glossy photograph, it was like a parade of comrades who gave themselves away to us so that we could know them too. This was not at all their intention, but as I watched I became increasingly and painfully aware that not only did I not know them nor they know me, but my gifts were lying dormant in the room as if they were nonexistent. All of a sudden I saw what I had been suppressing in my heart because I didn’t want to believe it:

I’m average.

I’m unnamed.

I’m unknown.

When I’m alone and have time to think (also known as either house cleaning or showering), I’m confident I’m a strong leader. I’m pretty certain I’m an able public speaker and teacher. I know hands down that I can throw a pretty good party. I mean come on. . . I’ve been a Christian for 25 years, so I’ve had time to accept my talents and figure out my spiritual gifts. They’re part of me, they’re who I am.

At the conference, I realized, however, that to most people I’m known differently. I’m known more generically.

Jonathan’s wife.

Pastor’s wife.

The woman in the back.

That girl.

Average.

Unnamed.

Unknown.

It’s one thing to fear being unknown, it’s altogether more painful to realize that you are unknown. It was devastating. In fact, my fingers are still a little shaky just typing about it. I don’t enjoy the truth of it, but it is the truth.

If I weren’t baptist, I’d make a bet that many of you reading this feel the same way.

WHAT'S AN AVERAGITE TO DO?

So, fellow averagites, what do we do now? Do we stay in our seats and either shake in fear or seethe in bitterness? Do we hurl insults and cheap commentary on those women who are known? Do we hide our gifts away as we decide that if no one’s gonna notice we’re just not going to perform? Oh Lord please no! I don’t want that. I don’t want that!

In the days that followed, I cried out to the Lord in a way that only a lonely soul can do. The privileged voice of helplessness was crying out to him asking him to make sense of my selfishness and sorrow. I was asking him to turn my mourning to dancing. To use my gifts and remove my desire to make a name for myself. I refused to live a life of jealousy, but I had no idea how to exercise it. And then I watched a video. I remembered the unnamed, and, soon, I called out for his name over my own. It’s exciting. If you are or have felt like me--average, unnamed, unknown--I hope you’ll read on.

I WATCHED A VIDEO

My husband recently co-wrote a book on the resurrection of Christ called Raised? to help engage doubters and skeptics. A movie was made about the spiritual journey of a dear couple Ben and Jessica Roberts. The story the Lord has written for them is truly amazing. I have personally watched them walk from darkness into light and have witnessed the corresponding life change that is gifted to those who know Jesus as their resurrected King. It’s been an amazing gift to observe this process in them and celebrate what the Lord has done. I know that this couple is just at the beginning of something amazing.

A week after the conference, I was watching part three of the movie. In this part, Jessica tells of her return to church. She chose our church  because “it met in a bar.” She goes on to share what I’ve heard about twenty times before, but this time I heard it with keen hearing, like it was the first time I’d ever heard something so amazing.

She said something like, “I sat with my son in the children’s worship. They were singing Father Abraham, which has no spiritual significance, but somehow I met Jesus. I knew then that I was loved, that I belonged, and that I could be cleansed.”

Averagites--that was ME leading children’s worship! Even though I swore I’d be the only pastor’s wife in the history of pastor’s wives to never ever lead the children’s ministry. . . that Sunday, I was in charge of leading the children’s ministry! I remember that day like it was yesterday. I remember feeling stupid for choosing to sing that song, but it was the best my ineptitude could come up with so I went with it. I remember meeting Jessica. I remember her son’s uncertainty there. And I remember seeing her facial expression change from fear to comfort.

As I sat there watching the video, tears begin to fall uncontrollably as I began saying to myself, “That was you! That was you! That was you!” I became completely aware that the Lord had used me and my service to him to change this family’s life.

Jessica never said my name nor did she even hint at it. . . but I know it was me! I am so happy for the Roberts’ faith and influence so the realization that my unnamed status had a part in their faith is overwhelmingly wonderful! In all honesty, I’d love to have a million more of those stories where my unnamed, unknown, and even inept self is used to bring others from darkness into light. What a privilege!

That moment, the Lord taught me that being unnamed is not the same as being unknown. I felt the love of my Father pour over me in such a way as to bring purpose to my generic status. Like Hannah, I felt completely seen. I felt known. He knows me and is using me in mysterious ways! I am unnamed but I am not unknown. What a joyful distinction.

THE HOPE OF BEING UNNAMED

Come to think of it, the world is overflowing with powerful no-name Christians. We call them missionaries, Sunday school teachers, doctors, neighbors, parents, and friends. When I think of the people who have had the greatest impact on my life, I don’t think of the amazing conference speakers I’ve heard or the great authors I’ve read. Nope. I think of the family in Minneapolis who taught me how to open my door to strangers. I think of the couple in Boston who showed me that all of life is repentance and discipleship. I recall the gentle rebuke of a church planter’s wife who pointed to me to Christ and away from bitterness. I think of my aunt who lived well and died even better as she drew nearer and nearer to Christ. Each of these have made an indelible mark on my faith--yet to the world they will always be nameless. The nameless souls who teach other nameless souls to proclaim the name of Christ.

All of this unnamed searching led me to where else...the cross. (And this is where I hope I camp out for the rest of my life!) There we meet two of the most powerful unnamed characters in all of Christendom- the two thieves on either side of Jesus.

Two men. Two criminals. No names.

One chides Jesus, refusing to repent. He wants to save his own life, his own name so to speak. I’m certain he’d be happy to use Jesus’ power for his own name’s sake but he wants nothing of the Christ as Lord. Forever unnamed. Forever unknown.

The other, however, is altogether taken with Jesus. He places no demands on Jesus, and instead, he asks Jesus to be who Jesus says he is...the Forgiver. He loves Jesus just as He is. He accepts his calling as a thief on a cross. He asks for the glory of the Lord to shine on him and give Him grace. Forever unnamed. Instantly known.

Fellow Noah’s wives we can get a name for ourselves or we can get Jesus. One leads to death, the other to beautiful life. May we strive for the popularity of our King and not ourselves. May we be content to use our gifts in secret knowing that our God sees us. Let us delight in being unnamed yet fully known.

—

Robie Kaye Dodson lives in Austin, Tx with her husband Jonathan and their three young children. She’s a horrible cook and a worse housekeeper…but she loves Jesus who gives her worth and meaning in the majestic and mundane of life. When all else fails, she makes dresses! Read more of her craft at www.sosewsomething.com. Follow on Twitter: @RobieDodson

Festal Sabbathing

If we’re going to have the kind of church that doesn’t underwhelm earnest Christians and encourage them to opt for “community” instead of church, what kind of body of disciples do we need to become?

“Discipleship is never complicated or easy, but always simple and hard.” – Mike Breen

That’s certainly true of this call to discipleship. We’re called to expect that Jesus will give us plenty to receive in each Sabbath feast.

The great London Baptist preacher Charles Spurgeon once had a pastor-friend who came to him discouraged. He was upset about the lack of fruit he saw from his preaching ministry. The pastor complained that he was not seeing people come to faith in Christ under his preaching.

“Well,” Spurgeon retorted, “you don’t expect that someone will come to faith in Christ during every sermon, do you?” Sheepishly, the pastor said, “well, no.” “That’s precisely the problem,” Spurgeon said.

SMALL EXPECTATIONS?

We often suffer from abysmally low expectations of what God will do in the power of the Spirit when his people are gathered in his presence.

Growing disciples of Jesus, in contrast, will experience a growing anticipation of what Jesus will do, especially when we come to God in the posture of receptivity. We come expecting that it will primarily be him that does a great work in and among us.

We no longer look at Sunday as the religious version of a dreaded Monday. We no longer see it as a day when we have to get the children up, get them dressed, get them fed, and keep them quiet so that we can say we went to church, and that our kids didn’t embarrass us.

Instead, Sunday becomes one of our favorite days of the week—even if we love going to work on Monday and hanging out with pizza, beer, and a movie on Friday night.

3 LETHARGIC ALTERNATIVES

Some fast-growing churches seem to put all their energy into making the worship experience so spectacular that someone could wander in half-dead and be resurrected by the sheer force of the music, the lights, the preaching, and the crowds.

Other stagnating and declining churches seem to simply go through the Sunday motions, which can make the most zealous Christian comatose ten minutes in.

Some Christians have seen all this at its worst, and have lost hope in ever seeing it at its best. And so they are satisfied with small group gatherings and private devotions.

Our church’s experience of Jesus is dependent on our church’s expectations of Jesus. Will he pour himself out by his Spirit when we are gathered to keep his feast? Do we expect it? Do we believe that Jesus always throws the best feasts and brings the best wine?

So, what’s our challenge? How do we be become an expectant people?

ARE WE EXPECTING?

The challenge for those preparing to lead us in festal Sabbathing is to mine the riches of the gospel of Jesus in its diverse implications for a more abundant life under his lordship. Preachers must prepare with diligence, with prayer, employing all their God-given powers of spiritual imagination to proclaim the gospel with authority and generosity (2 Tim 4:2). They must expect that God will accomplish much through its proclamation.

Those that cook food for the rest of us to enjoy should cook with love, expecting and praying that it will be received (there’s that word again!) with glad and generous hearts (Acts 2:46). Those who watch the young children in the nursery, those who lead music, those who clean the kitchen, and all others who serve at the Sabbath feast should ready their hearts, expecting that their humble service will be used by the Spirit of God to enable others to receive his grace and be transformed by it.

Whatever we bring to the feast, we bring it with the joyful expectation that Jesus has given us the gift, and intends to use it for the edification of the body (Rom 12:4ff).

It is incumbent upon each member of the feasting body to calibrate their hearts throughout the week, expecting that the feast will be satisfying, and that Jesus will delight our souls on the richest of fare.

The challenge for each of us is much like the challenge of our entire Christian lives: to live our week in the hopeful expectation that the best is yet to come, and that each Sabbath feast is a foretaste of the greater feast of the New Jerusalem, which we also expect to enjoy soon.

—

Andy Stager is the pastor and planter of Hill City Church in Rock Hill, SC. Gardens Don't Launch (and Other Church Planting Proverbs) chronicles lessons he's learned on the missional-ecclesial frontier. He co-produces Gospel Neighboring, a weekly podcast, and is co-author with Daniel Wells of Countdown to Launch: 10 Church Planting Rules Worth Breaking. He and his wife own and operate The Cordial Churchman, which makes and ships 100 handmade bow ties each week.

[All rights reserved. Used by permission. Originally published at “The Churched Disciple: Sabbath -- ‘Expect’”.]

Miracles in a Modern Age

Anyone familiar with Jesus knows he spent a lot of time healing people. Those healings seem so foreign to modern disciples, as if from a far away land, the stuff of mythology or fiction. Yet, his healing ministry didn't stick with him; Jesus spread his power to heal into the lives of his followers. Does this mean that we too, as modern disciples, should practice healing? What should we expect when praying for it? Let's take a quick look at the 1st century to get our bearings. Then, we can turn to our response in the 21st century.

Imitating the Healer

To set the stage, there is a three part narrative cycle to Jesus’ ministry (Lk. 5-8): 1) Proclaim the kingdom message, 2) Perform an exorcism, and 3) Perform a healing. It’s a cycle of proclaiming the kingdom message and performing miracles. Jesus starts in this cycle (Lk. 4), calls twelve disciples to join him (Lk. 5-6), and then repeats the narrative cycle: kingdom message/exorcism/healing four times (Lk. 7-8). When we zoom in, Jesus proclaims the kingdom message through the parable of The Four Soils, exorcises the Gerasene Demoniac, heals Jarius’ daughter, and a woman who had a hemorrhage for twelve years (Lk. 8). He is proclaiming the kingdom message and performing miracles.

Then Jesus sends his disciples on a mission of their own (Lk. 9). Notice what they’re doing: “And he called the twelve together and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal” (Lk. 9:1-2). Proclaim the kingdom message, perform exorcisms, perform healings. The same things in the same exact order. Coincidence? Hardly.

It happens again, but with seventy-two disciples instead of twelve--representing Jesus mission to all nations, not just Israel (Lk. 10; cf. Gen. 10). Why the repetition? Jesus does it four times, disciples do it twice. This narrative weight is telling us that disciples of Jesus imitate Jesus. Disciples of Jesus don’t just believe in him for a nice afterlife; they imitate him in everyday life.

Have you ever seen children imitate their parents or younger siblings imitate older ones? They pick up on mannerisms and patterns of speech. They talk and act like them. I recently met someone’s sister, and I knew right away they were related because of shared mannerisms. My wife tells me our son acts “just like me.” As disciples of Jesus, we should talk and act like Jesus, pick up on his behavior and imitate it. Jesus even says as much: “A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher” (6:40).

If you are a Christian, you are a disciple who is being trained by the Holy Spirit to act like Jesus (cf. 6:36). What are we to imitate? Clearly, it’s not everything, like dying on a cross. Jesus is committed to preaching and healing; he’s equally committed to raising up disciples who do the same thing. Luke underscores this “And they departed and went through the villages, preaching the gospel and healing everywhere” (Lk. 6:6). Jesus sends his disciples to preach and heal, not preach and serve or preach and study. As modern people, imitating this part of Jesus ministry often seems absurd, out of reach, unrealistic.

Skepticism of Miracles

Regardless of Luke’s careful historiography, we find this all very implausible today. Demons, exorcisms, healings? Before we can begin to imitate Jesus healing, we must first address our own skepticism. There is a healthy skepticism. We’ve seen enough 20/20 exposes on charismatic shysters who fake healings to rake in tithes. We shouldn’t check our minds at the door. But, as modern people, we also possess an unhealthy skepticism.

Mythological, Supernatural View

Our unhealthy skepticism views healings like Harry Potter magic—mythological, supernatural events. As myth, we think of healing as something from a wild imagination (a potion poured out on a wound for instant healing). We treat miracles as rationally implausible.

We believe that science has proven miracles to be impossible. But this belief, is in fact not a provable fact. The scientific method insists on natural causes for everything. But how then can you naturally disprove a supernatural explanation? You can’t test a supernatural hypothesis with a natural scientific method. This has been compared to a drunk looking for his keys only in the light, simply because he cannot see in the dark. But what if the keys are in the dark? See the contradiction? This shows us that even science, at times, requires faith; that answers may actually lie in the dark.

Theological & Natural View

The theological view starts with belief in God (without ruling out belief in science). It’s natural because miracles have a lot to do with the natural order of things. For Jesus and his disciples, healing has to do with God overthrowing the powers. Luke scholar Joel Green points out that when Jesus encounters disease, he treats it as evil. Jesus rebukes disease like he rebukes demons. He rebukes a fever (4:39) and in the same chapter rebukes a demon (vv. 35, 41). Jesus is confronting, not just the disease, but the power behind the disease. Satan is falling and the kingdom of God advancing as they preach and heal. Disciples are sent to not only preach, but to heal and exorcise demons.

Healings, then, are a direct confrontation of the powers of this world that would have the world undone, broken, and in complete disarray. Peter confirms this theological reading when he says of Jesus: “he healed all who were under the power of the devil” (Acts 10:38). When Jesus comes into the world, he sees right through disease to its origin—evil—and he confronts it. Like a good doctor, he gets past the symptoms to the cause and cures it. Healing is an overthrowing of the powers that propagate suffering and evil in this world, reintroducing us to God.

We are encountering, not the mythological, but the theological, the logic of God against the powers. Miracles aren’t supernatural, but natural. They are about the abnormal becoming normal; the natural order of things being restored; miracles are about restoration of creation. They’re not otherworldly magical events; they are this-worldy natural events.

Jesus restores in two ways. The obvious way is that the sick are restored to health, dead brought back to life. The not so obvious way is their restoration into community. Often when Jesus heals he expresses concern for the damage done to social and communal life. Jesus is concerned with their status, their acceptance, their relationships. Jesus encounters a Gadarene man (Lk. 8), a former urbanite, who now lives in rural graveyards, where he wears no clothing, cuts himself, and is bound by chains, which he breaks over and over again. He wasn’t always this way. He used to be a boy, someone’s son. Imagine what his deranged state did to his relationships, to his community.

The better view of miracles is theological and natural; it overthrows the powers and restores creation and community. Story after story, Jesus not only confronts the powers, but also restores his creation--a widow’s son returned to her from death, a woman marginalized for twelve years restored in peace to her community.  Evil banished, health restored; isolation removed, community recovered.

Miracles for Modern Disciples

So how are we to respond as modern disciples of Jesus? In 2010, I was brought close to the desire for healing, for the powers of disease to be overthrown and creation to be restored. We were in Dallas for Thanksgiving. At 3:30am on Friday morning, my wife thought her water had broken. She was nineteen weeks pregnant. We combed the internet for advice, texted our doctor, prayed for healing, and fell asleep. By 9am, we were at Baylor Hospital’s ER at our doctor’s request. Every possible scenario was flying through our minds—stillborn, miscarriage, birth to an incomplete baby. If there was a time to ask God for miracle, this was one of them.

Our son made it through that scare, but when he was actually born his heart rate kept dropping drastically. Nurses and doctors would burst into the room unannounced in the wee hours of the morning to check on my wife and little Owen. This happened over and over again. I kept praying for healing. We found out that the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and when Robie went into contractions, he would move down the birth canal, tightening the cord around his neck. This sent the monitors screaming. We prayed and pleaded, and by God's grace, the cord came undone and he was delivered naturally, without a scratch.

I've prayed for my son's life and my daughter's eye and they've been delivered, but also asked God to intervene in other people's lives and their suffering only persisted. Sometimes God heals and sometimes he does not. As I’ve pondered healing for today, I’ve come to the conclusion that we should pray with great faith in the power of God to heal and with, perhaps, greater faith in God not to heal. Very often, as we pray, our faith slips into healing and away from God. We get hung up on healing instead of trusting in the Healer.

Even if God does heal, the disease of death is inevitable. Why, then, should we seek temporary healing? What is God doing when he interrupts our lives with temporal relief? Are they displays of deity? In Luke, Jesus’ healings don’t so much prove deity as they do explain the gospel. We are sent to proclaim the gospel and heal. Healing always comes in tandem with preaching. Jesus is showing us that the gospel announces and inaugurates the restoration of all things, restoring the world to the way it is supposed to be. When miracles happen we get a glimpse into the past, the way things were before Satan fell and, and a glimpse into the future, the way things will be when the powers are overthrown once and for all at Jesus second coming.

The gospel is a message of reversal, the reversal of everything back to its blessed, original state—whole not broken, health not sickness, life not death, community not isolation. Disciples of Jesus have stepped into a space and time rift, where the glory and power of God are seeping into our world, renewing people, culture, and creation. The problem is that many of us barely have our foot in the door. Our minds are broken, captive to the mythologized, supernatural view of all things. The gospel liberates us from this to believe and know a God who overthrows the powers and restores creation. Jesus has come to re-integrate the world to a place where there is no supernatural/natural, mythological/rational division. He’s rescuing us from our captivate minds and is pressing his kingdom of new creation back into this warped world. He’s turning it inside-out, showing us the way it’s supposed to be.

If it is true that Jesus is restoring creation, removing the supernatural/natural/sacred/secular divide, then we should reflect that reintegration in our work and play. The future of restoration should peak out, not just in prayers for healing but in ways of working and living. If we are imitators of Christ, we should talk and act like Christ in everything we do. The problem is many of us are bound by the mythological view of Jesus, that he is practical fiction. People can’t tell that the gospel dissolves the sacred/secular divide because we uphold it by the way we live. We refuse holiness; we make shoddy culture; we consume the city; we ignore the poor. Your ethics, your holiness, your language, your dress, your work, your play all say something about Jesus, about the gospel.

Does your life reverberate with the age of restoration? Are we discovering new cures, making breakthroughs in technology, making great art, raising good citizens, displaying the imitation of Christ to our city? The restoration of all things, the reintegration of the mythological and the rational, the sacred and the secular. We are sent, like the twelve and the seventy-two, to preach and to heal, to heal our society through caring for the poor, counseling the troubled, creating great culture, raising great citizens, making great art, living distinct and holy lives. If we are disciples, our lives should demand a gospel explanation. Should we pray for healing? Absolutely. But we should also live the healing, the healing of all creation through the power of Christ is us, the hope of glory!

_

Jonathan K. Dodson (MDiv; ThM) serves as a pastor of City Life Church in Austin, Texas. He is the author of Gospel-Centered Discipleship, Unbelievable Gospel, and Raised? He has discipled men and women abroad and at home for almost two decades, taking great delight in communicating the gospel and seeing Christ formed in others.

Resurrection: Essential or Optional?

Is belief in resurrection essential or optional? All scholars agree Jesus died by crucifixion, but some insist there isn’t enough historical evidence to warrant belief in a physical resurrection. Let’s examine the evidence for the resurrection through: the gospel tradition, skeptical scholarship, and faith.

Gospel Tradition

Concluding his long letter to the church in the city of Corinth, Paul writes:

"Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you—unless you believed in vain.”(1 Cor. 15:1)

For the early Christians, church was not something they attended; it was something they were, wherever they went, at home or at work, in groups or going out, they didn’t leave this identity behind— they were family in Christ Jesus. Paul gives us a family reminder of what creates deep community—the gospel. In fact, he says if we deviate from the gospel, it puts us in grave danger “believing in vain.”

Put positively, the gospel is of first importance. This means it has priority over all other teachings and all of your life. It is more important than your career, your friends, your future, your preferences. It is this:

"that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve.”(vv. 3-5)

The death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus for our sins is the essential, life-changing, world-altering gospel message. It announces hopeful news “according to the Scriptures.”Did you notice he repeated this? This is not a way of saying, “See, this was all about Jesus predicted in the Old Testament, so you should believe it,”as if to one-up skeptics with prophecy. Rather, Paul appeals to the Scriptures as a rich, ancient, live narrative about the world, which hinges on the Messiah. “According to the Scriptures” is shorthand for true story. In this true story, the Messiah has come to deal with the sin of Israel and the world. This is why he says: “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins to deliver us from the present evil age”(Gal. 1:4).

According to the Scriptures, Christ is the hero of the world story. He exchanges divine grace for personal sin. He replaces evil with peace. The gospel is the story of God bringing Israel’s messiah onto the world stage to make a new humanity fit for a new world. Now, is this a true story? Well, it isn’t something Paul made up. It is the result of Jesus’s teachings on the Scriptures and is something he received. This is a technical word referring to the transmission of a tradition. Jesus died in the 30s, Paul is writing in the 50s and had already taught it to the church at Corinth, and now says it is Christian tradition. That puts this early creed’s origin around 45 A.D. But for it to become a tradition, it had to be a decade old. So that puts it around 35. N. T. Wright notes it was probably formulated within the first two or three years after the first Easter. This gospel creed is very close to the source. Now let’s take a closer look at this tradition by breaking it into three parts: died for our sins, buried, and raised on the third day.

Skeptical Scholarship

Paul says Jesus died for our sins. Virtually no reputable scholar has an issue with the historicity of Jesus’s death on a cross. It’s an accepted fact. But the claim that this was divine atonement to deal with human sin is another matter. What gives Jesus the right to say he died for our sins? Who says we need saving? Well, our conscience does. Everyone encounters guilt for certain actions. Maybe for how you have treated some person, or things you’ve done in the past.

This sense of guilt is a gift from God. If we didn’t have guilt over things like adultery, murder, or gossip humanity would do them all the time. Why not do them if there isn’t a transcendent standard for human flourishing? Where does that come from? It comes from a transcendent being, God. So while we may not like admitting we need saving, the reality is that our guilt is a gift, to help society, but more importantly to alert us to our need for rescue before God. When Jesus dies for sins, he offers to absorb our guilt. If you accept it, you become guilt-free before God. If you don’t, you will have to absorb the consequences for your guilt in this life and the next.

Next, Paul says that Jesus was buried (1 Cor. 15:4). There is skeptical scholarship regarding this phrase. Bart Ehrman, formerly a believing Christian New Testament scholar but now an agnostic biblical historian, was interviewed on NPR recently and also just released an important book called When Jesus Became God. There has been a response book called When God Became Jesus. Unfortunately, they did not respond to his chapters on the resurrection. Ehrman points out that Paul makes no mention of the empty tomb in this tradition, and contends that the reason for this is that there was no empty tomb, that in fact the disciples who wrote the Gospels, like Mark, made up the empty tomb idea. To prove this, he says the tradition would have had a neater parallel to “appearing to Cephas”(1 Cor. 15:5) if it read “buried by Joseph of Arimathea.”But this reliable tradition cited by Paul does not include Joseph.

Ehrman asserts that Joseph was part of the “whole council of the Sanhedrin”(Mark 15:1) which condemned Jesus to death. Why then would Joseph suddenly become an advocate for Jesus burial? Surely this was made up to make sure there is a tomb story to go with Jesus death, so people can later claim an empty tomb. What really happened, Ehrman suggests, is that Jesus’s body was left on the cross and devoured by dogs. No tomb, empty or otherwise. I honestly find this hard to believe, not on the grounds of theology, but on the grounds of history.

First, it is quite an elaborate, alternate reading based on speculation, an argument from silence (there are no documents supporting this and there would have been clear documentary outcry if this is actually what happened). Second, the more natural reading would be that Joseph, upon seeing Jesus die, converted to faith in Jesus as the Son of God, like his executor did (Mk. 15:39) or that he did not make the meeting. Mark tells us Joseph was “looking for the kingdom of God and took courage”to ask Pilate for the body (Mk. 15:43). This tells us Joseph had a rich theological reason to convert (seeing Jesus as the king of the Kingdom) and personal conscience to follow by mustering courage and go with his conviction against the grain of his peers. Therefore, we have good reason to accept the tradition in Corinthians while also affirming the empty tomb claim of the Gospels.

The third element is that “he was raised on the third day” (1 Cor. 15:4). Here is the bold resurrection claim. To this Ehrman says: “There can be no doubt, historically, that some of Jesus’s followers came to believe he was raised from the dead—no doubt whatsoever. This is how Christianity started. If no one had thought Jesus had been raised, he would have been lost in the mists of Jewish antiquity and would be known today only as another failed Jewish prophet” (emphasis added). Jesus wouldn’t stand out in history if people didn’t believe Jesus rose from the dead. But notice Ehrman’s wording, “Jesus followers came to believe.”He contends that while some believed this; it was based on a vision and not on an actual historical resurrection. Rising on the third day, he says, was just a theological flourish based on Jonah’s three days in the whale or Hosea 6:2. While there are symbolic connections to those texts, this doesn’t mean that the three days or the resurrection isn’t literal. The early Church likely included this phrase to reflect that there was no great delay of time, but in reporting on history, it was actually a specific number of days, which reflects their encounter with an actual, physically risen Christ. In fact, the verb used in the tradition means he was raised at a specific point in time, and that his act of being raised has ongoing effects in the present.

It does not suggest there were multiple visions of Jesus. It says something happened to Jesus’s body in history—raised—and that this event continues to have remarkable impact. The grammar puts the resurrection in history, where Ehrman is doing his work. Moreover, if Christianity is based on having visions of the risen Jesus, then why don’t most Christians have that encounter too? Because Christianity is not based on visions, but on the historic death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It’s about a person, not a resurrection. This is why Paul goes out of his way to list all the eyewitnesses: Peter, the Twelve, the 500+ witnesses, James, and himself. Hundreds of people claim to have witnessed an actual, physical, resurrected Jesus with nail-scarred hands. Eyewitness testimony is critical to good history. Reporters prioritize this material when writing their story, so do courts. And there is a deafening silence in connection with these reports in the first century. They are uncontested.

Only later, when another religion called Gnosticism flowered, did people begin to reread Jesus as a spirit, which was based on their philosophy of the body being corrupt or evil. Ehrman is simply trying to reread the text based on his historical presuppositions, which he actually admits: “I should stress that unbelievers (like me) cannot disprove the resurrection either, on historical grounds.” In essence, he says the resurrection is a matter of faith, not history, because history cannot admit miracles as a plausible explanations. But isn’t this biased, ruling out the supernatural from the historical record? He says he isn’t anti-supernatural, but as a historian it’s not admissible evidence. This, of course, is based on twenty-first century historiography, which he is imposing on first century historical documents. It is a classic case of what C.S. Lewis called “chronological snobbery,” arrogantly assuming the superiority of his historical moment over the past saying—miracles don’t count. But they did then!

Faith

This brings us to the question: What difference does it make? Well the resurrection doesn’t make any difference if you don’t have faith. But I’m not talking Bart Ehrman's faith, and I’m not even talking about faith in the historic resurrection. The gospel is not mainly a set of dogma to which we pin or do not pin our beliefs. Resurrection?—yes or no. That is a mental game.

Rather, the Scriptures are appealing to your conscience, like they did to Joseph, the centurion, and countless others. The gospel is a rich story about the Messiah absorbing your sin. Our guilt rightfully presses down on us. We are condemned before a transcendent, holy God. But Jesus would have us reach up in faith, take hold of his hand, allow him to pull us up into his forgiveness. That is not a mere mental decision; it is an act of surrender. It is compliance with your conscience to trust, not in the resurrection, but in the unmatched resurrected Christ.

God wants faith (not in a doctrine)—but in his Son. Without this kind of faith, God will condemn you. With it, we receive his grace for our sin. This is what happened to Paul who was once a murder of Christians, unworthy, but made worthy by God’s grace: “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain”(1 Cor. 15:10). That’s an identity statement. I am who I am in Christ. Remember the gospel gives us a new identity. Instead of sinner, you become a saint. God sees you not only as forgiven, but as raised up with Christ into his new and radiant life. Faith not only gets you forgiven; it gets you new creation. The guilt is gone and godliness has come. This changes everything. In creating a new identity in Christ, we are motivated to work hard for the kingdom of God. Earlier he said, you received, stand, and are being saved in the gospel. Standing is past action with ongoing effect. You don’t just believe in the past, you keep believing. It’s not once saved always saved. That assumes you only believe once.

This isn’t about pinning your yes or no to a dogma. This is about throwing yourself, your life, on a Person. It’s about love. Faith works through love. When you get married you are saying to that spouse, I choose to trust and uniquely love you, like no other. I am ruling all other men and women out. You don’t know what’s on the other side of the altar. What suffering or hard times may come, but you act in faith out of love and say, “I do.”

That’s what happened to Paul and all the early Christians, and  many of us. “I do Jesus, and I will continue to trust you, obey you, and love you, exclusively, uniquely above all other gods. I put my faith-love in the risen Christ, not simply nod my head to the resurrection.” Then, you become part of his new humanity—fit for a new world. Your sin for his grace, the world’s evil for his peace. The story is still unfolding along its central character—Jesus. And the risen Jesus will return to gather his children into his perfect kingdom. He admits those who continue to stand in faith-love toward him. To those who simply nod their heads over doctrines, he dismisses since they believed in vain.

Like church, the resurrection isn’t something you simply attend; it is something you are, something you become by faith in the risen Christ.

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Jonathan K. Dodson (MDiv; ThM) serves as a pastor of City Life Church in Austin, Texas. He is the author of Gospel-Centered Discipleship, Unbelievable Gospel, and Raised? He has discipled men and women abroad and at home for almost two decades, taking great delight in communicating the gospel and seeing Christ formed in others. Twitter: @Jonathan_Dodson