Exporting Love

The chief export of a local church should be love. Churches do many things, but the main thing we are to express to God, to one another, and to the world is supernatural love—because God is love. “Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love” (1 Jn. 4:8). Boil all Christian activity down to one word and it’s, simply, love.

Since our God is love, we are to be people who are known for love. “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another”(Jn. 13:34–35).

“God so loved the world that he gave us” Jesus (Jn. 3:16). And we love because he loved us first (1 Jn. 4:19). Love is the superstructure of the gospel. The cross of Christ is the supernova of God’s love for sinners. “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8).

It’s Pretty Simple

When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment is—the greatest duty of God’s people, his reply: robust love for God and real love for others.

And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”(Mk. 12:30–31)

Love God. Love neighbor.

That’s Christianity.

It’s really not that complicated. Our pesky flesh just gets in the way.

We can try and contort Jesus’ words, like a good Pharisee, with questions, “Well, who is my neighbor? How should I love my neighbor?” Jesus makes it pretty clear. Love your neighbor like you love yourself. We are to have counter-cultural love for the culture—nothing less than loving our neighbors like we love ourselves.

And we are to have gospel-formed love for our brothers and sisters. “And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God” (Eph. 5:2). We are to do good to everyone, and especially those in the Church (Gal. 6:10).

This is a difficult way to live. But not impossible. This kind of love is not beyond the Kingdom of Christ. This is the Great Commandment, not the great impossibility. To walk in the Greatest Commandment requires great power, great ability—given from the Holy Spirit. What’s the first fruit of the Spirit again?

What Are We Exporting?

Our first priority is loving God. Always. Our chief task is not to put on a slick Sunday service, or to assimilate people into community groups, to serve the poor, to defend doctrine, to write books, to preach sermons—our first and greatest aim is love. (Then good works will follow.)

And if we aren’t careful, we can get caught up in the good things and forget the main, the best thing.

The church at Ephesus received a letter from Jesus, commending their sound doctrine—but rebuking their lack of love.

But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent.” (Rev. 2:4–5)

Every church should take an assessment of their ministry manifest and ask, “What are we exporting?” What is our church churning out? More love or more or more pride? More gospel or more Oprahisms and Osteenifications?

Solid doctrine is a good thing. So important. But churches with stellar doctrinal statements die every day. Lampstand status requires love.

The Ephesians didn’t lose their love for Jesus and others because of sexual immorality, drugs, Netflix, or Jim Beam—it was the good things, overtime, that wore them down. Like the slo-mo drag of the ocean, they lost their bearing. Caught in the motions of Christianity and they were no longer caught up with the risen Christ.

Stay The Course

Let’s not assume we aren’t there, or that we aren’t a weekend away from being there.

• Does our church really love Jesus, the person? Or are we bored with him?
• Does our church really love one another? Or are we a lame event?
• Does our church really love the lost? Or are we a city in a bunker, instead of a city on a hill?

This is too vital to not consider. Where are we today?

Let’s stay the course. Let’s do the two firsts that Jesus mentioned to the Ephesians.

The love we had first. The works we did at first.

We never move on from there. There’s no advanced Christianity. This is it. Love for God, love for neighbor. Word and deed. Hear and do.

We remember Jesus; we get reignited by his volcanic love, and then we act accordingly. The Way. The Truth. The Life.

We love because he first loved us.

—

J.A. Medders is the Lead Pastor of Redeemer Church in Tomball, TX. He and Natalie have two kids, Ivy and Oliver. Jeff digs caffeinated drinks, books, and the Triune God. He blogs at www.jamedders.com and tweets from @mrmedders. Jeff’s first book, Gospel-Formed: Living a Grace-Addicted, Truth-Filled, Jesus-Exalting Life, is set to release this November from Kregel.

Looking for Hope in a Better Person

You’re a night security guard and the only Christian on duty. Another guard suddenly sticks his head into your office. Pointing his finger he almost accuses, “You’re one of those ‘Christians,’ right?” Nothing good ever follows that question. No one gives you a high five, says “good job,” and goes about their business. They want to debate, challenge, or stump you. You hesitantly respond, “Yeah . . .” He crosses his arms, looks you square in the eye and then comes the challenge: “I do drugs. What would Jesus say about that?” How would you respond—in a way that might actually resonate?

Three Insufficient Responses

I’ve posed this scenario, which actually happened to a guy I know named Nick, in trainings around the country. No matter where I am, I hear these responses,

“Um, I Don’t Know Exactly”

For some, our gut response would be to look down, stammer, and ashamedly admit we don’t know what Jesus would say. Maybe it’s the outlandish honesty or the shock of a challenge at 2 a.m. Perhaps we have a hard time putting Jesus’ response into words. Or our people-pleaser kicks in and we simply can’t tell him the core of what we believe. A common response to this question is a blank stare. Put yourself in the shoes of the asker: “I don’t know” looks like ignorance.

“He’d tell you to stop”

For others, the answer would stem from the moralistic, humanist culture we grew up in. Our answer is some form of Bob Newhart’s MADtv sketch: a counselee admits a number of struggles, while Newhart “counsels” each with a blunt, “Stop it!” Even if we intellectually know Jesus is our savior, we function as if He is a good guy with ethical advice. Maybe we advise a few “good works.” Perhaps we appeal to legality (“you’ll get arrested”), personal welfare (“it might kill you”), heartstrings (“if you get arrested, can you imagine how your family will feel?”), or moralism (“you know it’s wrong”). It could be that we even quote a verse: “He’d say ‘you shall have no other gods before me’; that’s the first commandment.” Put yourself in the asker’s shoes again: “‘Stop it’” fits a view of God many already assume: a rule-giving, demanding, and impersonal deity.

“He died for your sin so you can be with Him in heaven”

A final common response acknowledges their need for the gospel. Maybe you’ve been praying for this guard. You’re elated that God finally opened the door. So you gush the gospel many of us know well. “He’d tell you that God is perfect and heaven is perfect, but because of sin, you’re not perfect. God sent Jesus to die for your sin so you can be reconciled to God and live eternal life with Him. If you accept Jesus He’ll forgive your sin of drugs.” This is true—and praise God it is! But if he’s ignoring God, he doesn’t care about heaven. If he’s like much of the world, he doesn’t believe he’s too bad a person. If he’s a common American, it’s likely he doesn’t fully understand sin or his need for Jesus. Even the objective, big-picture gospel is not a sufficient answer.

“Like Children, Tossed To And Fro . . .”

These responses fail to get to the heart of our faith. The first is empty. the second is moralistic. The third sees the gospel as merely a past event that greatly benefits my future, but that has nothing to do with today. Many who question the gospel need to know how it applies to them in their current situation. Behind the challenging question is a heart in need of applicable truth.

Futile attempts like these are not unique to our culture. Writing to first-century Ephesus, Paul explains the goal of Christian life is maturity, then gives three ways we cannot attain that goal: “every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes.” First, exclusively pursuing doctrinal trends, teachers, or head-knowledge of the Bible isn’t enough. Second, we will always be let down by relying on our own power, to make new rules and fix each other. Third, false teachers deceive, spouting false hope and false ways to solve real issues.

But these are ways we often answer many questions, not just the 2 a.m. drug challenge. “How can God redeem my broken marriage?” “I’m so angry at my boss, what do I do?” “We just want a baby.” “How do these verses or commands apply to me?” “Where is God in this (recent tragedy)?” We answer, “I don’t know” (and if you’re really good, “. . . but I’ll pray for you.”) “Let me give you a great book on that.” “Let’s meet every week for accountability.” “Do these three things or steps.” “You just need to trust Jesus.” “One day, all this will be better.”

Applying An Objective Gospel To Subjective Situations

None of these, Paul would say, are sufficient for faith or maturity. He even calls answers like this childlike. Answers like these miss one of the great blessings of the gospel. It is a past event, both historically and personally for every Christian. It does give future hope, for personal reconciliation and the renewal of all things. But it also impacts every moment of our present lives. The gospel means something, to everyone, everyday, for every situation, whether they know it or not. Paul says that while those other ways fail, the one way to grow in Christ is to “speak the truth in love.”

This is why we listen well; why we learn stories. Within every complaint, struggle, and idol hides an opportunity to speak the objective truth of the gospel into someone’s subjective circumstance. Jeff Vanderstelt offers four areas to listen for, in every story, frustration, and situation, where we can intervene and point people toward Jesus:

• Identity: Who or what shapes their understanding of themselves? Where do they find personal value and worth?
• Brokenness: Where are things “different” than they’re supposed to be? What are areas of pain, hurt, and frustration? Who or what’s to blame?
• Redemption: What or who do they look to, to fix the brokenness? What or who makes everything right? What or who’s their functional redeemer?
• Hope: What does “right” look like? What would everything look like once everything is fixed? What or who is the center of that hope?

When we identify false identity or hope in someone’s life, see a misplaced view of brokenness, or hear the letdown of a false redeemer, we can point them toward a better story. We lead them to an identity and hope in God, not anything or anyone else. We define sin as the true brokenness, not any other problem. We point to Jesus as the only true Redeemer in the midst of the siren calls of false saviors. That loves them well, and speaks gospel truth in a way that addresses a direct need.

How Would You Respond?

“I do drugs. What would Jesus say about that?” Based on today’s content, how do we answer that question? What deeper need do the drugs really cover? What true struggle is he admitting? Put yourself in Nick’s shoes: how does the objective gospel apply to the guard’s subjective situation?

After thinking for a moment, Nick responded, “I think Jesus would tell you you’re looking for hope in a place that lets you down. And you know it lets you down because you have to take a hit three times a day. So I think Jesus would tell you He’s a better place to put your hope, because He promises He’ll never let you down.” Nick spoke the gospel truth into the basis of the guard’s personal hope. In thousands of years of history, sixty-six written books, and millions of lives across history, God has proven that Jesus is our greatest hope. The guard didn’t fall on his knees weeping that night. God didn’t redeem his soul in that office. But he uncrossed his arms, shook his head, and told Nick, “No one has ever told me that before. That actually makes a lot of sense.” That night, the guard walked having heard the gospel in a way that resonated with his present life and need.

—

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.)

Grieving Well

Crisis struck our church body suddenly and without warning. One of our staff members gave birth to her fourth child, only to have that sweet, little life end just a few days later. This sudden loss came as a surprise to everyone. Many in our church body mobilized to surround this family with prayer, meals, and whatever kind of support we could think to provide. My husband and I, who have also suffered the death of a newborn, were uniquely positioned to come alongside this couple with the empathy that is only bought through similar suffering. As we spent time with this couple and their children, we hoped we might bring them some comfort. We also hoped we might be able to help them grieve well. As my husband assisted with planning the graveside memorial service for little Lucy, he asked me if I might be willing to speak at the service, sharing what I learned through our loss. Even though we lost our daughter fifteen years ago, the lessons are still fresh and real. I agreed. Through our loss and subsequent suffering, I learned two valuable truths about God and in that process learned how to grieve well. I share these deeply-learned lessons here so that they will encourage those who grieve as well as those who are called to grieve alongside someone else.

God is God

The first truth I learned through our loss is that God is God. Sounds fairly straightforward, but it’s a difficult truth to grasp in the middle of suffering. When we lost our daughter as a stillbirth, many well-meaning people said many unhelpful things. One person gave us a book that tried to reconcile God’s sovereignty with personal loss and suffering. I took away from that unfortunate gift that God did not have anything to do with my baby’s death. This attempt at comfort ultimately proved flimsy and unsustainable. God didn’t have anything to do with this? Well then, if that’s the case, God might be love, but he is not God.

That interpretation of my suffering wasn’t good enough for me. I couldn’t believe that God had his hands tied and that this loss happened totally outside his jurisdiction. I began to search the Scriptures on my own and pray, begging God to help me make sense of it all. He led me to 1 Peter 5:6, “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you.” Studying that verse along with many other passages describing God’s sovereignty led me to this conclusion—God had everything to do with my daughter’s death. He is God. He is absolutely in charge. I can trust this loss didn’t happen apart from him. He allowed her to die for reasons known only to him, because only he is God. He is the one with the mighty hand. My job is to humble myself under it.

God Cares

Left by itself, however, the truth that God is God (and we are not) can leave us feeling resigned at best and bitter at worst. “Great,” we think, “God is God. Where is the comfort in that?” Thankfully, the second truth about God comes fast on the heels of the first. The next verse in 1 Peter 5 tells us “Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” God is God, yes. But he is a God who cares for me more than I can ever imagine. That truth is a game-changer. That means that not only can I trust his sovereignty, but I can also trust his character. Because he cares for me, he will never, can never, act in a way contrary to his character. I can trust him to always, always act in a way that is loving. So as I humble myself under his hand, I can relax. This is a good hand I am under. I can trust him.

Learning to Grieve Well

Armed with those two truths about God, I found myself in the position to grieve well. I crawled under the mighty hand of God and stayed there. Though at times tempted to blame a decision made by myself or a doctor, I received the grace to reject that temptation and stay put. “God is God,” I reminded myself. “It is his loving and caring hand I am under.” I also resisted the temptation to run. Escape by numbing myself with food or movies or prescription medication or whatever proved fruitless. I chose to stay under the hand of God and trusted him to lift me up whenever he was ready.

I crouched low, and really, really grieved. I let the emotions come and I let them out. I cried to God and yelled to God and clung to God all at the same time. That’s what you can do with a God who cares. I cast all my anxieties on him like Peter told me to . . .  again and again, throwing in my fears and despair and anguish as well. God took it all. And still I stayed there, crouched low. Grieving. Waiting.

Once my tears began to dry a little, God began to lift me up over the following weeks and months, just as he said he would. I have found as the years have passed since then that during that time I was able to grieve well and fully. I didn’t run from it, but fully gave into it, trusting God throughout the process. There have been other opportunities to grieve since then that I have not handled as well, so I know the difference. That time God gave me the grace to do it well. I humbled myself under God’s hand and trusted him to lift me up. I cast all my anxiety on him, knowing that he cares for me.

The Gift

My husband and I discovered something precious during that difficult time of loss and grief. As we crouched there under his hand, God gave us something irreplaceable: the gift of himself. That could potentially sound cliché until you experience the presence of God in the middle of grief. When our daughter died, I felt the presence of God fill our hospital room in a powerful, almost tangible way. I literally thought about trying to reach out and touch something that I could feel, but couldn’t see. He was that real, that present. We have experienced the deaths of others that we love since that time without that same visceral experience. That’s how I know it was a gift. “God is near to the brokenhearted” (Ps. 34:18), and we, in our broken state, experienced the gift of his nearness that day. Experiencing God’s nearness set us up to grieve well. We knew he was God. And we knew we could trust him.

Grieve Well

If you’re in the middle of grieving, I hope these words point you to the one who is in charge of everything, including your loss and your mind-blowing grief. I encourage you to humble yourself and crawl under the hand of God. Crouch there and grieve well. Let it all out. Trust him to lift you up. While you’re there, cast all your anxiety on him, along with your fear and grief and anger and tears. He cares so much for you. My prayer is that, as you draw near and remain close to him, that he will draw near to you and gift you with his presence. There is no greater gift.

And if you’re called to come alongside someone who is grieving, I hope these words give you some direction in how to speak life-giving truth them. Truth that is sturdy, sustaining, and healing: God is God. He is absolutely in charge, which means you are not suffering randomly or meaninglessly. He has you under the palm of his mighty, protective hand. Remember, though, that you can trust him because he cares for you more than you could ever imagine. His purposes toward you are always love. So stay there. Crouch low. Grieve well. And trust him to lift you up when the time is right. He will be faithful to his word to do this. And you will walk away stronger, blessed with the irreplaceable gift of his presence.

—

Lindsay Powell Fooshee is married to John, a pastor at Redeemer Community Church and church planter with Acts 29. They are raising 3 great kids in East Tennessee. Lindsay holds an M.A. in Christian Thought from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and blogs regularly at Kitchen Stool.

Culture Changes You

I remember taking an introductory communication course during my first year of college. It wasn’t a profound experience, really, just a community college course outlining a few social science theories while most of the class worked on math homework or played Angry Birds. Something from that course stuck with me though. It was the first day of class when the professor challenged us, “try to not communicate” the professor said. So we stopped talking and put on an expressionless face. “Nice try, but you failed” quipped the professor. “You are always communicating something. Through your body-language, your choice of clothing, your mannerisms, your vocal inflection. You can’t not communicate.”

After forgetting most of what I learned that semester, that stuck with me (granted, it helps that every communication professor starts their semester with this little exercise. Since I studied communication theory for my undergrad, I’ve probably blended a dozen or so lessons into the story above). But the point holds true.

Drenched in Culture

To take a page from my old professors, I would like to suggest that the same is true for culture. Take a minute to try to imagine a person not influenced by culture. I’ll wait.

Do you have your imaginary case study ready? Maybe it’s a sort of unabomber character, living off the land in Montana. Maybe it’s a small town fundamentalist preacher who hasn’t watched a movie, played a card game, or read a “secular” book since 1971.

Well, thanks for playing, but even these folks can’t escape the reach of culture. Culture is as ubiquitous as the air we breathe. The clothes we wear (or don’t wear), the language we speak, and the things we buy—which are all evidence that we are all drenched in culture.

Culture is everywhere and, like it or not, culture is changing you.

After watching that movie last night, listening to that album, reading that book, binge watching House of Cards, and buying that new shirt you are not the same person.

On a recent Christ and Pop Culture podcast we asked Dr. Greg Thornbury, president of King’s College in New York City, about engaging culture. To which he responded,

“You want to engage culture?—too late! Because culture has already engaged you . . . It’s the air you breathe. You’re so suffused with it, that to talk about engagement is almost a misnomer.”

Thornbury then recalled this old Palmolive commercial. “You’re soaking in it,” Madge tells her friend in the commercial. Just as our curiosity is peaked about culture and Christianity, we realize that we’ve been soaking in it this whole time.

Maybe you fully realize this, but fear the growing influence of secular culture, and try to avoid that which seems antithetical to Christian morality, or liberal, or heterodox. However, because we are unable to escape culture and since culture is undoubtedly influencing us, the question cannot be “how can we avoid being discipled by culture?” and should be “how can our involvement in and consumption of culture be harnessed as a gospel-centered discipleship tool?”

For the rest of this article, I will lay groundwork for the latter question and, in a series of monthly posts at Gospel-Centered Discipleship, I will go through several case studies using different cultural artifacts.

What exactly is Culture, anyway?

What: What is culture? Culture is hard to define because culture is both profoundly visible and invisible. Both concrete and abstract. Culture is what you are expected to say when somebody sneezes. Culture is the free version of Hamlet in the local park. Culture is the billboard on the highway. Culture is how long you are expected to pray, if at all, before a meal. Culture consists of the shared ideas, norms, and practices that knit humans together. Culture forms us and we form it.

Why: Why do we create and consume culture? Maybe more important than understanding the precise definition of culture is understanding why we create and consume it. As articulated by James K.A. Smith in Desiring the Kingdom, humans create and consume culture because we are lovers––that is, we participate in the cultural practices that we do because they promise to fulfill us. “We are essentially and ultimately desiring animals, which is simply to say that we are essentially and ultimately lovers. To be human is to love, and it is what we love that defines who we are,” says Smith (50-51). Simply put, the cultural practices that we participate—sometimes without even realizing it—reveal what we desire.

Culture is much more than beliefs and ideologies. Culture is a collective conscious and unconscious  striving for happiness, understanding, and fulfillment. To quote James K.A. Smith again, the ideas and practices that make us human are “always aimed at some vision of the good life, some particular articulation of the kingdom” (24).

“Pop Culture”: To briefly summarize for clarity, “pop culture” is the media, practices, and artifacts that are produced by culture.

Popular culture is one big, diverse collection of desire-driven narratives. We often buy certain clothes because we believe that how we look will lead to some sort of fulfillment. We watch films that explicitly reflect our desire for reconciliation or subtly reflect our desire for beauty. These artifacts are what Smith calls pictures of the good life. We are being discipled (changed into the image of something) by what we consume,

“[A]esthetic articulations of human flourishing as found in images, stories, and films (as well as advertisements, commercials, and sitcoms). Such pictures appeal to our adaptive unconscious because they traffic in the stuff of embodiment and affectivity. Stories seep into us––and stay there and haunt us . . . . we can’t not be lovers, we can’t not be desiring some kingdom” (58, 75).

Considering the power and ubiquity of culture, we cannot afford to ignore it. Nor can we afford to go to war with it. If “The earth is the LORD's and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein”(Ps. 24:1), then we must recognize the import, God-ordained role that culture has to play in our lives. More than, culture can be used as a valuable discipleship tool. With all the complicated messages that culture presents, we need supernatural help to view it as such.

Trained by the Spirit to See

The beauty of grace is that we aren’t going to get it right, but that’s okay. God is actively living and working inside of sinful people.

I grew up in a non-Christian home, intellectually discipled by my dad to love and appreciate great film, music, and literature. Before becoming a Christian at sixteen, I found refuge in the music of Bob Dylan and Uncle Tupelo, the writing of Salinger and Vonnegut, and the films of Kurosawa and Wes Anderson. These cultural artifacts shaped me, dare I say, in wonderful and healthy ways.

When I became a Christian, my life was changed by Jesus. I understood that I was a bad person who needed to be saved from myself. I found security where I had only known insecurity. I also found Christian culture, and, for about three months, I gave up “secular music” and listened only to Christian radio because I thought that’s what Christians did. It was like only feeding a kid spinach for three months—”I know it’s good for me.” I would tell myself, “but it’s so awful going down!” I don’t remember the day that I gave in, but going back to my Wilco and Rolling Stones albums was a breath of fresh air. And those albums turned out to be some of the most helpful discipleship resources I’ve ever interacted with. They displayed what it looks like to wrestle through doubt, insecurity, and loneliness. Not to mention, expressions of joy, historical rootedness (here’s looking at you, Mick Jagger), and intimacy. As I began to study the Bible, I found that culture expressed similar emotions and often strove towards the same goals, and fell into the same trap.

There is an invisible thread that runs throughout culture. Christians have the grace of the revealed knowledge that this cultural mystery is the Logos—God himself working through culture, history, and music. Paul quoted Aratus and Epimenides of Crete in Acts 17 to show the Greeks that God was at work in their culture. While the Spirit teaches us the substance of this thread (the gospel narrative) through the preached Word, the sacraments, Scripture, community, and prayer, we can learn to boldly draw parallels between the seemingly secular, obtuse, or ignored and the Creator of the universe.

After years of being well-discipled in a gospel-loving church—a safe place to wrestle through the inherent goodness or badness of the pop culture that I love so much—the Spirit trained me (and is continuing train me) to see how, while broken, human culture is divinely infused. Through cultural expressions of honest doubt, sincere beauty, and vulnerable intimacy, the Spirit has taught me the cathartic joy of identifying with human longing and the art of seeing the sacred in the secular.

The Spirit teaches us to view the world and culture through gospel colored glasses. Humans who create culture are creatures who are longing for redemption—creatures with eternity written on their hearts and the image of God in their DNA.

“Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God.  And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who are spiritual” (1 Cor. 2:12-13).

Our spiritual nature (that is, united by faith to Jesus) allows us to see the world for what it is. We are taught by the spirit to see people as made specifically in the image of God, longing for something to save them from their fallenness. The culture that humans create—Christian or not—reflects this Godward orientation and can itself lead Christians to understand God in rich, previously untapped ways.

Take The Brothers Karamazov—the book that, apparently, led Reza Aslan to reject Christianity. The same book that I would call one of the most import books in my spiritual life. While I saw pure, Christ-like grace exemplified in the characters of Alyosha and Zossima, I saw a wise vision of ecclesiology in the chapter “The Grand Inquisitor” and even when Dostoevsky inevitably strays from Protestant orthodoxy, as I read I grew in love. I don't need it to be explicitly evangelical to see God’s divine imprint in Dostoevsky's work.

Enjoying good culture is a joy and a blessing. When we see God’s fingerprint on it, we can be sure that the Spirit is teaching us that he loves his creation and culture as a good, undeserved gift. No need to freak out at the upsurge in “secular” culture. If God created culture and man is wired to know God, even the most anti-Christian cultural expressions will not be able to overcome God’s redemptive plan and will, in some way, reflect gospel truth. One of the joys of being a Christian is that we get to search for it.

Granted, Scripture says that some things are truly wicked and should be avoided (see 1 Cor. 10:23-33), and that many things are unhelpful, though lawful. Pornography, hate speech, and like are to be rightfully abhorred and actively fought against. However, everything is a mixed bag, including Christian culture (and certainly including this article!). So we must be careful not to draw black and write lines in the sand, calling everything that disagrees with our theological and moral sensibilities irredeemable smut. Culture is complex, and more often than not has much more to offer us that we think, not less.

Culture can be spiritually detrimental, but often it simply exposes our already corrupt heart. If we are unrepentantly greedy or adulterous, films like The Wolf of Wall Street and Goodfellas will feed those desires. However, if we approach these films with an explicit desire to understand the character of God, culture, even the most seemingly unredeemable can point us to the gospel.

Maybe you zone out to How I Met Your Mother every night after work. Maybe you just bought Weird Al’s new album and you’ve been jamming out to “Tacky”  this week. Whatever it is, it isn’t “secular”—it’s shaping you. Be encouraged though, as you learn to view it through a gospel lense—like Paul did with the poetry of Epimenides and Aratus. God can use it as a means to reveal himself and the good news of his Son.

—

Nick Rynerson lives in the west suburbs of Chicago with his groovy wife, Jenna. He is a staff writer for Christ and Pop Culture and a marketing coordinator at Crossway. Connect with him on Twitter @nick_rynerson or via email.

Avoiding the Pitfalls of Pastoring

There are two common dangers in pastoral ministry and Paul is alert to both of them. They are what we might call over-pastoring and under-pastoring. Over-pastoring is what happens when a leader or leaders exercise too much control in the life of the church. They are quick to suppress any dissent and may even end up bullying people. They often personalize issues. Suggestions for change or criticism are responded to in a personal way with counter-accusations. The unconscious aim of such leaders is personal control rather than the maturity of the congregation. This is why Paul says an elder must not be “over-bearing, not quick-tempered” (1:7).

Under-pastoring is what happens when a leader or leaders exercise too little leadership within a congregation. They avoid confrontation, so they fail to correct false teachers or challenge ungodly living. They may be good at encouraging people, but weak at rebuking those in error If the aim of those who over-pastor is personal control, the aim of leaders who under-pastor is personal comfort. They want a quiet life. But Paul says an elder must “refute those who oppose” the gospel (v. 9) and tells Titus that “rebellious people . . . must be silenced” (v 10-11).

You may not be in leadership. But, as we shall see in Titus 2, we are all called to pastor one another in the church. So we can all have a tendency to over-pastor or under-pastor.

If you think you have a tendency toward over-pastoring or under-pastoring, then the key is not simply to modify your style. The key is to “hold firm to the trustworthy message as it has been taught” (v 9). This is why holding firmly to the gospel is so important.

Why Under- or Over-Pastor?

What is it that drives someone to over-pastor? Proverbs 4:23 says: “Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life” (NLT). In others words, what shapes our behavior is the thoughts and desires of our hearts (Marks 7:20-23). Our behavior goes wrong when our thinking about God and desires for God are misaligned. People over-pastor because they want to feel they are in control, or they are trying to prove themselves through their ministry. They have not embraced the truth that God is great and he is in control; or they have not embraced the truth that God is gracious and their identity is found in Christ. They may believe these truths in theory, but they do not hold them firmly in their hearts—and this is revealed in moments of pressure.

What is it that drives someone to under-pastor? People under-pastor because they fear the rejection of other people or crave their approval or they want to be liked (what the Bible calls the “fear of man,” Proverbs 29:25). Or they may under-pastor because they want a comfortable life, so they avoid the hard things involved in leadership. They have not embraced the truth that God is the glorious One, who should be feared. Their fear of man is not being eclipses by the fear of God. Or they have not embraced the truth that the God is good. True and lasting joy is found in him—even in the midst of hard situations.

Leaders need to disciple themselves with the gospel before they can disciples others. That does not mean they need to be perfect—progress rather than perfection is what is required (1 Timothy 4:15). But leaders do need to apply the gospel to their own hearts—otherwise they will be like the hypocrites of whom Jesus warns, who try to take specks out of people’s eyes when they have planks in their own eyes (Matthew 7:1-5).

—

Tim Chester (PhD, University of Wales) is pastor of the Crowded House in Sheffield, United Kingdom, and director of the Porterbrook Institute, which provides integrated theological and missional training for church leaders. Chester also coauthored Total Church (Re:Lit), Everyday Church (Re:Lit), and has written more than a dozen books.

Excerpt taken from Tim Chester, Titus for You, The Good Book Company, ©2014. Used by permission. http://www.thegoodbook.com/

Prioritizing Church Attendance

Let’s just face the facts. Today, many Christians do not think attending church is that important. In the past, Christians believed that actively being a part of a church body was absolutely necessary to one’s faith. There used to be an understanding in Christian families that unless one was deathly ill or there was a family emergency, you just never ever missed church. So what has changed and caused so many people to view the church as a disposable good instead of as an intricate part of one’s spiritual life?

Why We Don’t Attend Church: A 40-Hour a week job, but no time for God

Pastor Kevin DeYoung is right. Our lives really are “crazy busy.” There is no doubt about it. Whether you are a college student, a newly-wed couple, or have a family of seven, we live in a day and age where the mentality is simply: go, go, go! This is one of the main reasons why church attendance is viewed as optional. Most people work 40-hour a week jobs in the United States, and so once the weekend hits the mindset of rest and recovery sets in. Trust me, I get it. Everybody wants some downtime. But why do we think that rest and recovery should take place outside of the confines of the house of God?

Recently, Trevin Wax wrote an article titled: “Are You A Part-Time Church Goer? You May Be Surprised.” Wax explains various reasons why people miss church in today’s society. There are 52 Sundays a year. If you only attend 25-30 Sunday services, you are a part-time church goer. Congratulations!

Do you recognize what is clearly wrong with this? Our jobs, which of course we must have to be able to support ourselves and our families, are seen as absolute necessities, while church attendance is simply seen as a dispensable activity. Brothers and sisters, this is not how it should be. Of course, the mindset of just attending church, getting your church attendance ticket punched, is absolutely wrong as well. Pastors and church leaders should preach against this mentality as well. However, think about this for a second. Just like you gather with your biological family, shouldn’t you also desire to gather with your spiritual family?

Why We Need The Church: A Biblical Case

I know the arguments that are going to be raised about what I have said thus far. People are going to say: “Does he really believe that attending a local church, going to its building, and doing this once or twice a week is what the Bible is suggesting?” Well yes and no. Kevin DeYoung explains, “I know we are the church and don’t go to church (blah, blah, blah), but being persnickety about our language doesn’t change the exhortation of Hebrews 10:25.” I couldn’t agree more.

Fellowship with your spiritual family is a sign of maturing in the faith as a disciple. Hebrews 10:25 says, “not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” Have we really become so “new-agey” in our thought that we now think that we have matured past the need to attend church? Lord, let it not be so.

Gospel-Motivated Church Attendance

There is no doubt that what we need to recover in the life of Christians today is a gospel-motivated church attendance. What might this look like? Well, in my opinion its demonstrating the fact that when the church gathers on the Lord’s day, she proclaims the gospel, meditates on the gospel, and rehearses the gospel. By doing this, lives will begin to fundamentally change. It really is just that simple.

When the gospel is at the center our focus shifts. We no longer view church attendance as something we just need to check off, but as an intricate part of our spiritual lives. Instead of serving the god of individuality, we will be serving the God of Scripture. The gospel changes everything. However, we must first let the gospel change our low views of the church, and recognize that the house of the Lord is absolutely vital to the Christian life—to the life of a mature disciple. Should not the good news of Jesus Christ dying for our sins motivate us enough to enter into God’s house on Sundays? I would say so.

We are all at different points in our spiritual walks with the Lord. No matter what point you are at on your journey, I hope that you will come to see the importance of attending church. Do not be so narcissistic and self-consumed to think that you do not need the body of Christ. That is simply a sign of spiritual immaturity and a straight-up lie from the Devil.

I am not trying to guilt anyone into attending church regularly either. However, I am issuing a challenge to those who consider themselves Christians. If you consider yourself to be a part of the bride of Christ (Rev. 19:7-9, 21:2), tell me why would you separate yourself from the body of Christ (Rom. 12:5; 1 Cor. 10:17)? Logically, that makes no sense at all.

So Christians, live in light of the fact that you have been redeemed and do not have to earn your acceptance before God through your church attendance. The community of Christ needs you because it cannot function without all of its body parts. This is not condemnation, but rather an exhortation. Attending church is a blessing that should not be taken for granted.

—

Matt Manry is the Director of Discipleship at Life Bible Church in Canton, Georgia. He is a student at Reformed Theological Seminary and Knox Theological Seminary. He also works on the editorial team for Credo Magazine and Gospel-Centered Discipleship. He blogs regularly at gospelglory.net.

Choosing Grace Over Outrage

In his book, We Learn Nothing: Essays and Cartoons, political cartoonist and New York Times Op-ed writer Tim Kreider describes the modern epidemic that he calls “outrage porn”:

So many letters to the editor and comments on the Internet have this . . . tone of thrilled vindication: these are people who have been vigilantly on the lookout for something to be offended by, and found it…Obviously, some part of us loves feeling 1) right and 2) wronged. But outrage is like a lot of other things that feel good but, over time, devour us from the inside out. Except it’s even more insidious than most vices because we don’t even consciously acknowledge that it’s a pleasure. We prefer to think of it as a disagreeable but fundamentally healthy reaction to negative stimuli, like pain or nausea, rather than admit that it’s a shameful kick we eagerly indulge again and again . . . [It is] outrage porn, selected specifically to pander to our impulse to judge and punish, to get us off on righteous indignation.

The commitment to feel 1) right and 2) wronged seems to be a fairly common phenomenon. But is this a fruitful way for Christians in particular to engage in public conversations about the issues of the day? I think Jesus taught us another way.

There are surely going to be times when we will disagree with others, sometimes in a passionate way. A follower of Jesus is by definition a person who carries certain convictions. Yet when we must disagree, being steadfast in our loyalty to Jesus demands that we not be disagreeable as people. When people assume a different viewpoint than ours, we are never to hold them in contempt. Scorn and disdain and a chip on the shoulder are not Christian virtues. Rather, they are Pharisaical vices. They may at times contribute to winning an argument, but they will never win a person. A disagreeable spirit—or as my fellow pastor Ken Leggett likes to say it, “habitually putting on a no face instead of a yes face”—is not the way that Jesus intends for his followers to engage in disagreements and debates.

Tim Keller says that tolerance isn’t about not having beliefs. It’s about how your beliefs lead you to treat people who disagree with you. This is where biblical Christianity is unparalleled in its beauty and distinctiveness. I am not talking about distorted belief systems that pretend to be Christianity but are not. I am talking about the true, pure, undefiled, unedited, unfiltered, unrevised, and an altogether biblical and beautiful system of belief—the one that visits orphans and widows in their afflictions, the one that loves all its neighbors who are near or in need, the one that is kind to its enemies:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have?”

Jesus did not merely speak these words as an edict from on high. He became these words. “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8). While we were running from him, while we were passively resisting him, while we were actively opposing him, while we were his enemies, Christ in love gave his life for us.

Do we need any more reason to be kind to those who see things differently than we do? What more reason do we need than that through Jesus, we are forgiven and free and loved and will never ever, ever, ever, be condemned or scorned by the courts of heaven?

Having received such grace, Christians have a compelling reason to be remarkably gracious, inviting, and endearing in our treatment of others, including and especially those who disagree with us. Let’s be known by what we are for instead of what we are against. Let’s be less committed to defending our own rights—for Jesus laid down his rights—and more enmeshed in joining Jesus in his mission of loving people, places, and things to life.

When the grace of Jesus sinks in, we will be among the least offended and least offensive people in the world.

Jesus already took us seriously by giving his life for us. There is no better reason than this to take ourselves less seriously.

—

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/blog. Used with permission from Scott Sauls.

Picturing Discipleship at The Moulin Rouge

Embodied Desires

A common “churchy” response to this cultural situation runs along basically Platonic lines: to quell the raging passion of sexuality that courses its way through culture, our bodies and passions need to be disciplined by our “higher” parts—we need to get the brain to trump other organs and thus bring the passions into submission to the intellect. And the way to do this is to get ideas to trump passions. In other words, the church responds to the overwhelming cultural activation and formation of desire by trying to fill our head with ideas and beliefs.

I suggest that, on one level, Victoria’s Secret is right just where the church has been wrong. More specifically, I think we should first recognize and admit that the marketing industry—which promises an erotically charged transcendence through media that connects to our heart and imagination—is operating with a better, more creational, more incarnational, more holistic anthropology than much of the (evangelical) church. In other words, I think we must admit that the marketing industry is able to capture, form, and direct our desires precisely because it has rightly discerned that we are embodied, desiring creatures whose being-in-the-world is governed by the imagination. Marketers have figured out the way to our heart because they “get it”: they rightly understand that, at root, we are erotic creatures—creatures who are oriented primarily by love and passion and desire. In sum, I think Victoria is in on Augustine’s secret. But meanwhile, the church has been duped by modernity and has bought into a kind of Cartesian model of the human person, wrongly assuming that the heady realm of ideas and beliefs is the core of our being. These are certainly part of being human, but I think they come second to embodied desire. And because of this, the church has been trying to counter the consumer formation of the heart by focusing on the head and missing the target: it's as if the church is pouring water to put out a fire in our heart.

What if we approached this differently? What if we didn’t see passion and desire as such as the problem, but rather sought to redirect it? What if we honored what the marketing industry has got right—that we are creatures primarily of love and desire— and then responded in kind with counter-measures that focus on our passions, not primarily on our thoughts or beliefs? What if the church began with an affirmation of our passional nature and then sought to redirect it?

A Romantic Theology

The result would be what Inklings member Charles Williams called a “romantic theology.” Developed in a number of (unfortunately) forgotten little books, Williams’s argument is that the human experience of romantic love and sexual desire is itself a testimony to the desire for God. Williams would put it even more strongly: the person who experiences romantic love has experienced something of the God who is love. Treading a path opened by Dante’s meditations on Beatrice, Williams suggests that romantic love “renews nature, if only for a moment; it flashes for a moment into the lover the life he was meant to possess.” Love, says Williams, is a testament to the in-breaking or emergence of the divine in human experience, and thus to be affirmed as an expression of our deepest erotic passion, the desire for God:

Any occupation exercising itself with passion, with self-oblivion, with devotion, towards an end other than itself, is a gateway to divine things. If a lover contemplating in rapture the face of his lady, or a girl listening in joy to the call of the beloved, are worshippers in the hidden temples of our Lord, is not also the spectator who contemplates in rapture a batsman’s stroke or the collector gazing with veneration at a unique example of [a stamp]?

As we’ll see later hinted in Walker Percy’s Love in the Ruins, the erotic—even misdirected eros—is a sign of the kinds of animals we are: creatures who desire God. As Augustine famously put it, “You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” This is not a matter of intellect; Augustine doesn’t focus on the fact that we don’t “know” God. The problem here isn’t ignorance or skepticism. At issue is a kind of in-the-bones angst and restlessness that finds its resolution in “rest”—when our precognitive desire settles, finally, on its proper end (the end for which it was made), rather than being constantly frustrated by objects of desire that don’t return our love (idols). But this means that even desire wrongly “aimed” is still a testament to our nature as desiring animals. Operative behind Williams’s “romantic theology” is a picture of the human person that appreciates affectivity and desire as the “heart” of the person.

An Augustinian Anthropology of Desire

An Augustinian anthropology of desire primes us to adopt just such a romantic theology. And this entails, I think, an interesting implication for how we’ll think about learning and discipleship. I have in mind The Moulin Rouge—a film set in that den of iniquity, Montmartre, at the turn of the twentieth century, during the fervor of the Bohemian revolution. A starving artist named “Christian” has rejected the “respectable” and bourgeois lifestyle of his father (as a clerk or salesman) and instead sought to pursue a life devoted to literature and drama, all in the pursuit of beauty. He rejects the nine-to- five machinations of “normal” people, refuses to be reduced to a middle-class producer and consumer, and instead takes up residence with the colony of artists clustered in Montmartre—infamous home to burlesque shows and the red-light district, but also home to painters and artists like Renoir, Toulouse-Lautrec, and van Gogh—all taking place under the watchful eye of the Basilica Sacré-Coeur perched atop the hill. Thus Montmartre represents a certain mix of the sacred and the profane—both of which seem to be at odds with the bourgeois life of production and consumption that the young artist, Christian, has rejected. The proximity to Sacré-Coeur almost invites us to look for parallels and comparisons between the bohemian artists and the mendicant friars, the decadent painters and the celibate priests, both of whom reject a life of moneymaking for the sake of very different visions of the kingdom, of the good life. But if both the bohemian and the friar desire a kingdom that rejects the pursuit of comfort and wealth, could it be that there are some covert similarities between their visions of the kingdom? Does the Moulin Rouge already point up the hill toward the Basilica? What, at the end of the day, is Christian after?

Above all, Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge is a “spectacular” love story revolving around the play within the play—a production of another love story, “Spectacular, Spectacular.” It is desire that brings the young man to art, to commit himself to the voluntary poverty of a bohemian literary existence. And it is in pursuit of this desire that another desire flames: his passion for Satine, a courtesan who reigns at the Moulin Rouge. Oddly, Satine herself represents the moneymaker, concerned primarily with acquisition, as attested in her hymn, “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.” (Indeed, her profession represents the very commodification of love.) Thus she resists his advances; above all she rejects his bohemian ideal, his naive commitment to love (played out in the “Elephant Love Medley”). But love wins. Christian’s evangelistic commitment to love captures the heart of Satine, and the effect is transformative: rejecting a lucrative offer from the duke, she too becomes a bohemian, and the desire for acquisition gives way to a passion for love and beauty. Love even has a kind of epistemological or perceptual effect, as indicated in their anthem, “Come What May”: “Never knew I could feel like this, like I’ve never seen the sky before.” The world is “seen” differently because of love. By the end of the film we learn that all of this has constituted a kind of education: “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.”

On the one hand, this seems to be the very antithesis of the kingdom of God: a realm of prostitutes and addicted artists given over to wanton pleasure-seeking. This criticism is embodied in the figure of Christian’s bourgeois father, who berates the bohemian culture for its sinfulness, which seems to be most linked to its failure to be “productive.” But to “the children of the revolution” (try to hear Bono crooning the song from the sound track), our highest calling is not to simply be producers. Instead, they are committed to the bohemian ideals of “beauty, freedom, truth, and above all, love.” And the spectacle of the film is ripe for analysis in terms of Williams’s theology of romantic love—a love that is revelatory, that breaks open the world (“Never knew I could feel like this, like I never saw the sky before . . .”). Christians will tend to say, “Ah, but that’s not love—that’s eros, not agapē!” But a romantic theology refuses the distinction because it recognizes that we are erotic creatures—that agapē is rightly ordered eros. And so one could suggest that the kingdom looks more like Montmartre than Colorado Springs! The kingdom might look more like the passionate world of the Moulin Rouge than the staid, buttoned-down, talking-head world of the 700 Club. The end of learning is love; the path of discipleship is romantic.

—

James K. A. Smith (PhD, Villanova University) is professor of philosophy at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where he also holds the Gary and Henrietta Byker Chair in Applied Reformed Theology and Worldview. He is the editor of Comment magazine. Smith has authored or edited many books, including Imagining the Kingdom and the Christianity Today Book Award winners Who's Afraid of Postmodernism? and Desiring the Kingdom. He is also editor of the well-received The Church and Postmodern Culture series (www.churchandpomo.org).

James K. A. Smith, Desiring the Kingdom, Baker Academic, a division of Baker Publishing Group, ©2009. Used by permission. http://www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

Growing Pains and Making Messes

Enjoying the Growing Pains

I can’t sleep. My wife and I are expecting our third child. These two things aren’t related. Better said, they are not causally related. Our oldest is two and a half and our newly minted “middle child” just recently turned one. Both of them are in incredible points of their development that have been battering against my symbolic and typological head. Let me explain and apply.

The newly minted one year old, let’s call him Judah since his name is Judah, has recently begun to walk and climb all over the house. Chasing sister for toys. Chasing mom to be held. Judah emits guttural noises everywhere he goes. Both of pleasure and pain. The joy of seeing your child delightfully happy is marginally mitigated by the fact that the house is perpetually littered with toys and the child’s face littered with bruises from falls.

Our oldest, let’s call her Kenzie since her name is Kenzie, is a talking machine. She memorized song lyrics early on, so this year we started her with the Heidelberg Catechism. Kenize has nine Q&A’s memorized and recently was able to recite the entire Lord’s Prayer. She naturally recites well, but it’s her natural talking that is funny. It’s the words and sentences she develops in her own mind that cause my wife and I to roll around in laughter.

Growing Disciples Make Messes

Where am I going with this?

Last night, as I struggled to sleep, I was overcome by the realization that my kids were growing. Now this is a duh moment. I can see them growing with my eyes. But intellectually I perceived that bones were growing, organs expanding, and motor skills developing. My children at some point would no longer be children. Christian discipleship is like this. The Scriptures are replete with this imagery so I’ll limit myself:

“Like newborn babies, long for the pure milk of the word, so that by it you may grow in respect to salvation” (1 Pt. 2:2).

“Until we all attain to the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a mature man, to the measure of the stature which belongs to the fullness of Christ. As a result, we are no longer to be children, tossed here and there by waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men, by craftiness in deceitful scheming” (Eph. 4:13-14).

Almost all of us have read these verses. We have crafted ideas of what they mean and what they look like. God has placed real life images in front of my face. Christians are born unable to take care of themselves. The church is the delivering and tending nurse. The young Christian coos and makes small messes. They begin to mature. We hope they mature. They must mature. In this process, they become like Judah—a walking, tumbling, crying mess. And the church needs to be ready. These child-like disciples need to be fed constantly. Cleaned more constantly. They require direction on how to interact with the world. They won’t stay this way for long, but the instruction must be given if we expect them to mature.

Then these fresh faced Christians become little walking, talking Kenzies. They learn doctrine by rote. They talk and sing and sound like Christians. They do little chores here or there and are all-around delightful to have. But they also say things that make no sense. Sometimes they mean to be silly and other times they do not. This can be frustrating for the more mature, so the church must be patient. We must teach not only what words mean, but the proper tones to convey their truth winsomely. This immaturity shall pass in time. And new stages of Christian discipleship will be crossed. But the church should not be surprised at the messes created by young disciples. We should take joy that they are in fact growing.

—

Joshua Torrey is a New Mexico boy in an Austin, TX world. He is husband to Alaina and father to Kenzie & Judah and spends his free time studying for the edification of his household. These studies include the intricacies of hockey, football, curling, beer, and theology. You can follow him @AustinPreterism and read his theological musings and running commentary of the Scriptures at The Torrey Gazette.

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.

The Pastor’s Kid: An Interview with Barnabas Piper

Being a pastor's kid (PK) is not something most of us can relate to, and yet the PK is someone we cannot avoid. PKs live in a world different from ours, a world where their family's every move is under intense scrutiny. But even if we're not a PK, it's important to understand the unique difficulties they face.

Barnabas Piper has written a book, The Pastor's Kid: Finding Your Own Faith and Identity, hoping to use his experience to encourage PKs to trust in Christ and to seek community in the midst of public and private struggle. It is also an instructive book for those of us who want to love our pastor's kid better.

Barnabas was kind enough to answer a few questions for GCD, and I hope it will encourage you to buy the book.

BRANDON: What made you feel like this message was the one to turn into a book?

BARNABAS: I was reluctant, at first, to write a book from the perspective of PKs. I doubted whether it would connect with enough people and wondered if it might seem whiny or navel-gazing. But as I corresponded with PK after PK I heard the same stories and perspectives over and over again, and they meshed with mine almost perfectly. I saw a persistent need and consistent desire. After I wrote a couple articles on being a PK the responses flooded in—each one hit a nerve. I saw a clear void in resources speaking to and for PKs both to encourage them and help their parents too.

BRANDON: Pastors have the unique expectation of discipling everyone in the church at the same time, in some form or fashion. How did this affect your dad (John Piper) in discipleship at home with you and your siblings?

BARNABAS: My dad was always a preaching pastor. His calling was to preach and his gift was to preach, and he was uniquely gifted at it. For him, discipleship of the church was primarily in consistent faithful exposition of the Bible. It was similar at home, just without the booming voice and gesticulations. He exposited and applied scripture. It was a strength and a weakness. The consistent pointing to God’s word laid a foundation for understanding, but it sometimes fell short of feeling personal and relational. There are dads, especially pastors, who use scripture verses like a magic cure for every ailment. My dad was not one of those.  He was never trite in his use of verses and he didn’t proof text to make a point. Sometimes, though, I just wanted normal conversation and connection and his default was digging into the Bible.

BRANDON: Pastor's kids often carry the unfair weight of being expected to be perfect because of who their dad is. How can people in the church help pastor's kids feel more "normal"?

BARNABAS: The short answer is “treat them like you do all the other kids.” PKs get singled out for misbehaving and even small indiscretions get noticed and reprimanded or reported. Where one kid might be called out Sunday School for being a distraction the PK  will have his mother or father called about the same sort of incident. PKs often get singled out to answer questions in Sunday school even if they don’t want to or don’t really know the answer. In fact, not knowing isn’t really allowed either. It creates an expectation of perfection, or at least a faking of it. Last, let them ask questions, doubt, wonder, explore, and find faith. Too often faith is expected of PKs and what is actually there isn’t a relationship with Jesus but a recitation of what is expected.

BRANDON: What advice would you give pastors seeking to better disciple their own kids?

BARNABAS: Converse, don’t ever preach. Relate, don’t always council. Connect with your kids over what they enjoy and over what you enjoy. This means have a hobby that can be shared (not just reading or studying). Listen, don’t always teach. Sometimes they need to be heard and to know you care. Show them you enjoy being with them. And admit to your sins, not just to being a sinner, but to actual sins. Then ask their forgiveness. These kinds of actions create an atmosphere of trust, respect, and openness. Such an atmosphere is where faith is worked out, questions are more safely posed, and a real relationship with Jesus can be exemplified and developed.

BRANDON: What advice would you give pastor's kids struggling with the pressures they face?

BARNABAS: Trust somebody. Find one or two friends. (You don’t really need more than that.) No they might not totally understand, but they care. It will help you process your struggles to talk through them. You’ll begin to see the holes that exist in your life that only Jesus can fill.

Then look for Jesus. Sure, you’ve heard all about him for your whole life, but go look for him. What you see may differ greatly than the impression you have of him. He’s not your daddy’s boss. He’s not a killjoy or a judge. He’s not an angelic, halo-wearing, choir boy. He is profoundly powerful, gracious, loving, and present. What find see when you look for Jesus is that you find him. He will introduce himself to you in a way that is so real that all those pressures and challenges and issues become something that may still hurt but are manageable and secondary.

—

Brandon D. Smith is Executive Director of Gospel-Centered Discipleship and serves in editorial roles for The Criswell Theological Review and The Council on Biblical Manhood & Womanhood. He is also Editor of Make, Mature, Multiply: Becoming Fully-Formed Disciples of Jesus. He is proud to be Christa’s husband and Harper Grace’s daddy. Follow him on Twitter: @BrandonSmith85.

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.↩}

Take It Back to Jesus

A lot of people are skeptical of Christianity and the the church in general. You’ll often hear statements like, “I don’t believe in organized religion.” How should we respond?

Take It Back To Jesus

Our goal isn’t to convince lost people that church is cool. We are witnesses of the Risen Lord, this is about Jesus. Jesus is the Savior of sinners, not a cool Sunday service.

When people say they don’t like organized religion, ask them their thoughts about Jesus Christ. More pointedly, ask them if their position on organized religion means that Jesus didn’t rise from the dead.

If they think Jesus is dead, why go to church? Who cares? Why be in a huff over organized religion if its founder is a loser?

But, if Jesus is alive—everything changes. Their thoughts about the church and “organized religion” have to be seen in light of the risen Lord. Since Jesus is breathing, everything the Bible says about Jesus’ church has weight to it. It is solid. If Jesus conquered the largest obstacle in our lives—that’d be death—than we need to listen, and seriously consider everything his book says.

• Jesus said he was going to build his church (Matt. 16:18).
• Jesus came for the church (Acts 20:28).
• Jesus picked twelve leaders to start his church.
• Jesus is the head of the church (Eph. 5:23).

Jesus wants a church; if he didn’t, don’t you think he would have told the apostles in Acts to stop organizing and corrupting his vision for Christianity? In Acts they are meeting, structuring themselves, sending out missionaries, appointing leaders, etc. I don’t think Jesus wants a disorganized religion.

Jesus loves the church (Eph. 5:25). You can’t truly follow Jesus and not be a part of his church. It’s backwards. The New Testament doesn’t recognize that as Christianity.

A Rebellious Christian

If they profess to be a Christian and are against the church, then they should be called to obey Jesus, who is the head of the church, which is his body. To have Jesus, the head, is to also have his body, the church.

A professing Christian that is against the church is against Christ. If you are anti-Church, you are acting more like Satan, more like an anti-Christ, than your professed Savior.

The New Testament is clear, Christians are meant to belong to a local church (Heb. 10:24). I’ve met far too many Christians who are too “mature” to obey the Bible and go to church. Sheesh. Repentance is in order.

God Isn’t Against Organization

There is nothing wrong with the words “organized” and “religion.” But put them together and people get goosebumps.

God isn’t against organized religion. The entire Old Testament shows that. And the New Testament affirms the gathering, structuring, and ministry activity of God’s people for the sake of God’s glory and the spread of the gospel. Again, the Bible doesn’t prefer a disorganized religion, “But all things should be done decently and in order” (1 Cor. 14:40).

So, the bigger reality is not what we think about “organized religion,” frankly, it doesn’t matter; the greater question is what does God think?

God is pro-organization. I’ll just give two pieces of evidence. Exhibit A: the Bible. And exhibit B: the universe.

What Do They Mean By “Organized Religion”?

When discussing or debating a word or phrase, define it. Ask what they mean by “organized religion”—it takes the conversation from the clouds to the ground. And then you can get going somewhere.

What they probably mean by “organized religion” is that they don’t want to be a part of some system that doesn’t care about them, doesn’t help them, just wants their money, etc. And I’d agree. That sucks. And frankly, that’s how Satan would run a “church”—which is not a church.

So, yeah, I’m against that kind of organized religion too—we all should be.

But the New Testament gives a different vision for the church—the main metaphor used is that of a family.

No one is against a family—or organized families.

We are brothers and sisters in Christ. God is our Father and Jesus is our big brother. We are adopted into God’s family (Rom. 8:15). We aren’t a perfect family. But we are family. There is real love, joy, and harmony to be had among the family God, the body of Christ, the local church.

We ought to acknowledge—and repudiate—the yuck of abusive, manipulative, serpent-like “organized religion,” and put forward the compelling vision of the family of God.

“And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved” (Acts 2:42–47).

—

J.A. Medders is the Lead Pastor of Redeemer Church in Tomball, TX. He and Natalie have two kids, Ivy and Oliver. Jeff digs caffeinated drinks, books, and the Triune God. He blogs at www.jamedders.com and tweets from @mrmedders. Jeff’s first book, Gospel-Formed: Living a Grace-Addicted, Truth-Filled, Jesus-Exalting Life, is set to release this November from Kregel.

Originally published on JAMedders.com “How to Handle the ‘I Hate Organized Religion’ Talk.” Used with permission.

Adopting a Missional Posture

Mission is why we exist as disciples. God’s love inspires us to be missionaries to the world around us. Emil Brunner says, “The church exists by mission just as fire exists by burning.” Mission begins at home, serving in our local church, and reaching our community. As disciples, we have been sent as missionaries to share the gospel in our present culture and to fulfill the Great Commission. The church is rooted in the concept of the missio Dei, which recognizes that there is one mission, and it’s God’s mission. The missio Dei is a Latin theological term that can be translated as mission of God. The word missio literally means sent. The church is not an end in itself; the church is sent into the world to fulfill the mission of God.

God is a Missionary

Understanding what it means to be a part of the mission of God begins with understanding that God is a missionary God. The very being of God is the basis for the missionary enterprise. God is a sending God, with a desire to see humankind and creation reconciled, redeemed, and healed. God’s mission can be seen throughout the pages of the Bible and history. Nowhere is the mission of God better understood than in the person and work of Jesus Christ. John 3:16 tells us, “God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”

Many Christians and churches teach and preach that missions are something we support or do, such as sending or supporting missionaries in other countries. This was the case twenty to thirty years ago. However, in the twenty first century the mission field has come to us.

We live in a post-Christian world where people simply don’t know the gospel anymore. Therefore, we are all called to be missional disciples and share in the mission of God. Ed Stetzer says, “Being Missional means actually doing mission right where you are. Missional means adopting the posture of a missionary, learning and adapting to the culture around you while remaining biblically sound.”

Jesus: The First Missionary

Being a missional disciple is simply following the way of Jesus. Jesus Christ was the first and greatest missionary. The Bible tells us that he came from heaven to earth to die for a lost and dying world. The following scriptures reveal how the mission of God was fulfilled through Jesus Christ and how we are called to continue and complete the missio Dei in our culture.

• “Jesus said to them, ‘My food is to do the will of him who sent me, and to accomplish his work’” (Jn. 4:34).
• “I can do nothing on my own initiative. As I hear, I judge; and my judgment is just, because I do not seek my own will, but the will of him who sent me” (Jn. 5:30).
• “For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me” (Jn. 6:38).
• “I know him; because I am from him, and he sent me.” (Jn. 7:29).
• “And he who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone, for I always do the things that are pleasing to him” (Jn 8:29).
• “We must work the works of him who sent me, as long as it is day; night is coming, when no man can work.” (Jn 9:4).
• “And Jesus cried out and said, ‘He who believes in me does not believe in me, but in him who sent me. And he who beholds me beholds the one who sent me’” (Jn 12:44-45).
• “For I did not speak on my own initiative, but the Father himself who sent Me has given Me commandment, what to say, and what to speak” (Jn 12:49).
• “Truly, truly, I say to you, he who receives whomever I send receives me; and he who receives me receives him who sent me” (Jn 13:20).
• “And this is eternal life, that they may know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent” (Jn 17:3).
• “For the words which thou gave me I have given to them; and they received them, and truly understood that I came forth from thee, and they believed that thou didst send me” (Jn 17:8).
• “As thou didst send me into the world, I also have sent them into the world” (Jn 17:18).
• “Jesus therefore said to them again, ‘Peace be with you; as the Father has sent me, I also send you’” (Jn 20:21).

Sent on a Mission

As the Father sent Jesus, he also sends us into our time and culture. Mark Driscoll says, “It is imperative that Christians be like Jesus, by living freely within the culture as missionaries who are as faithful to the Father and his gospel as Jesus was in his own time and place.”

We have been chosen by God to live in this time and place in order to fulfill the mission of God. Acts 17: 26-27 tells us that God has determined the exact place and time where we should live so that that men may find him. It is truly awesome to realize that you have chosen by God to be his representative to this world. It is both a great privilege and great responsibility.

Paul describes our calling in the following way, “We are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were entreating through us; we beg you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God” (2 Cor. 5:20).

Being missional is God’s way of showing the love of his Son Jesus through his church. Christians must strive to always be like Jesus, our perfect example. Jesus said, “The Son of man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many” (Mk. 10:45). This scripture beautifully embodies the task of Christian ministry. To be a disciple is to be a servant. We are to serve and give our lives for others. Serving is the example that Jesus gave; therefore, we should follow it.

As the church we are called to care for a lost and dying world that is in desperate need of a Savior. Too many times we compartmentalize the different ministries of the church. We have viewed social ministry as something we do on one hand and evangelism on the other. God is calling the church to rediscover the biblical model of holistic ministry.

Jesus met both the physical and spiritual needs of the people he ministered to. As the Body of Christ on earth, we are his representatives to a lost world. Therefore, what we do and say are of eternal importance. Being missional disciples is not an either or situation. It means that we care about people’s souls and their bodies. It means that because we care about the gospel we should care about social and environmental issues. Being missional disciples brings all of life together under the banner of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

—

Dr. Winfield Bevins is the Director of Asbury Seminary’s Church Planting Initiative. He frequently speaks at conferences and retreats on a variety of topics.  He has a doctorate from Southeastern Seminary. He has written several books, including Our Common Prayer: A Field Guide to the Book of Common Prayer. As an author, one of his passions is to help contemporary Christians connect to the historic roots of the Christian faith for spiritual formation. He and his wife Kay, have three girls Elizabeth, Anna Belle, and Caroline. Find out more at www.winfieldbevins.com.

Killing the Lone Ranger

Disciples were never meant to travel alone

In our present culture there is huge emphasis upon the individual. The post-modern mantra of “that’s good for you, but I’ll find my own truth” pervades every corner of our lives. It also has impacted and informed current day discipleship processes. Discipleship has become a process that is done to us—we attend a six week class at church and are pronounced “discipled”! Or, we are smart enough to know the right (intellectual) responses to doctrinal questions (that reinforce our denominational biases) and people think we are doing well as Christians. Perhaps, like me, you have been brought up in the church and have "learned" what prayers will get people saying “Amen!” or can lead worship in just the right way to make the congregation feel “tingly.” It is possible to do all these things and not be a disciple of Jesus. Let me say that again to reiterate that statement’s importance:

It is possible to say the right things, pray the right things, lead the right way, have just the right words to say . . . and not be a disciple of Jesus!

Now, I am not stating that prayer, praise, and rich biblical knowledge are bad—they most certainly are not . . . unless they are done with the wrong motivation. Discipleship is not a Christian conveyor belt through which we travel to achieve a better Christian status.

Discipleship is a deepening relationship with Christ Jesus with whom we travel through life in faith. Many Christians have started their journey of faith with 100% sincerity that the Christian life is for them. They started off enthusiastic about living for Jesus and got stuck into church life, maybe even being so touched by Jesus that they vibrantly shared their faith with anybody who would listen. Then they’ve been "discipled" into believing certain things and behaving in certain ways. For many the process of discipleship has removed their passion for Jesus and enthusiasm to share their faith and helped them to "settle down in faith."

Sadly, for others a dry non-relational discipleship process has not been enough to stop some from "forsaking their faith" when life has got hard or the church has been lacking in the grace that Jesus had shown them. It always saddens me when I see people turning from their faith in Jesus. It saddens me that often our programs have turned people off Jesus. But, more so, it saddens me that often we have judged these lost souls as not able to persevere (we love the parable of the sower), or worse—we state that they never had a real faith if they have "so quickly turned away." I believe that the problem is not always with the person who has left the church (although at times it is).  I believe that it is more to do with the fact that the church has not created faith communities that are conducive to growing disciples who reach maturity of faith. It is this point that I wish to stick on:

The church needs to create discipleship communities where disciples can thrive and mature in faith!

Disciples were never meant to travel alone! When we look at Jesus’ model of discipleship we never see him holding a class, handing out notes, and asking people to bring them back completed. Jesus intentionally chose twelve key people and called them to be his disciples. What are some of the keys we can find from how Jesus made disciples?

Jesus Created a Community of Disciples

Jesus called twelve men together to learn from him. He formed a band of brothers who traveled with him; questioned him; listened to him; watched him preach, pray, and perform miracles; they argued with each other (about who would be the greatest in the kingdom); they ate with him (often); they went through some terrifying experiences with him (stormy seas and a garden arrest!). Jesus invested his time, energy, experience, and spiritual life with them. Whenever Jesus went somewhere, they went with him. They served Jesus and each other. They prepared for festivals with him, and went to parties with him.

In thirty years of church life, I have rarely experienced this form of closeness with a group of Christians. There have been inklings of it once in a while. I spent six month on a YWAM Discipleship Training School (I was actively searching to grow as a disciple at a time when my church was not engaging in making disciples) and lived in a huge house with over fifty other people.  During this time I spent every waking minute (almost) with other members of the DTS. It was a great period in my life and I still look back on it as a period of massive spiritual growth in my life. I could put this down to the amazing teaching sessions I attended (although I think this was a minor facet in my discipleship at that point). I believe that I grew spiritually because I became part of a community of believers who were looking out for me, loving me, listening to me, correcting me, encouraging me, praying for and with me, crying with me, barbecuing with me, joking with me, walking on the beach with me, eating with me, and more besides—all of this with Jesus at the center of it all! During this time I shared my life intimately with about eight of these people and (I believe) added spiritual value and discipleship to their lives.

Gospel and Missional Community: A Basic Theology

Discipleship needs community, but community is not enough. A discipleship community needs to be on a mission with the gospel together. Here are three emphases I want to articulate:

1. We will glorify God together (gospel)
2. We will gather and grow in Christ together (discipleship)
3. We will go out in the Spirit’s power together (mission)

All of these center and depend on God in all his Triune glory.

Christian community begins and ends with God! In the Trinity we have the original community. Father, Son and Holy Spirit work together perfectly to fulfill their plan of redeeming the world and restoring humanity into a right relationship with the father again. The Father sent the Son on a mission. The Father and the Son sent the Holy Spirit to carry on that mission through the Church. And we are that Church!

Our community (Church) needs to relate to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. God-centered community, like other styles of being the church needs to maintain a relational balance in relationship with our Trinitarian God. Discipleship that does not relate to all three members of the Trinity will be unbalanced and unhealthy. Our God is a Trinitarian being so we need to be Trinitarian people in thought, word and in deeds as we journey together.

The other emphasis is on a very small word with big implications. That word is “we.” Disciples are not lone rangers. We do not do church or mission alone. In Luke 10, Jesus sends the disciples out in two's. Nowhere in the Gospels do we see Jesus sending the disciples out alone. Discipleship is a community thing because it is a relationship thing. We disciple each other—I need you and you need me! I am discipled by the strongest and the weakest members of my community. This is an amazing truth to grasp. We often think that we need to be discipled by someone who knows more than us—I have found that God uses the weak things to silence the strong. God does not just give revelation and wisdom to "leaders"—he shares himself and the riches of his grace with every member of the Church. This can be a very humbling experience for us. We need to expect that God will speak through every member of our communities. We need to create communities where we expect that God will minister and speak through a child or through a new convert, as well as through the mature disciples. This not only encourages our faith, but it will encourage new disciples’ faith as they see how God uses them. This encourages them to have an expectation that God will use them to play their part in the discipleship of other people. What a joy to hear and see young disciples of Jesus discipling others.

The emphasis on gospel, discipleship, and mission is also important in ensuring that our discipleship is balanced. Where we lack in one area there will be imbalance in the discipleship process. If we do not emphasize the gospel we will create disciples who do not depend on God, and who are not looking to see his purposes fulfilled. Discipleship very easily becomes about us when we do not look squarely to the cross of Christ and its far-reaching implications.

If we do not seek to grow as disciples together, we will not value the need to meet together and to grow in faith. The result is that faith and Christian community become low priorities for us and we may not have any commitment to the community of believers. This is counter-productive to the relational discipleship process.

If we do not look out in mission, we run the risk of being disciples without purpose—we become a closed club for the spiritually initiated. Disciples without a mission are like mountaineers without a mountain to climb—we learn how to be disciples by following Jesus into mission just as the first disciples did. Essentially, it is Jesus who disciples us (albeit often through his church). Mission is the disciple’s mountain upon which they will grow in their understanding of how to follow Jesus’ teachings in the reality of their particular life contexts

We need to disciple within the context of gospel-centered communities centered on God and going in mission together. Community offers us accountability to grow in faith in a loving and supportive environment as we share life together in the spiritual and practical experiences and conversations we have.

May we be a people who follow Jesus to the God the Father in the power of the Spirit to make, mature, and multiply gospel-centered, discipling, missional communities and churches.

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Stuart McCormack has worked as a shelf stacker, bingo caller, archivist, youth minister and is currently living out his calling to missional living in the secular workspace as a Targeted Youth Support Worker/Mentor. He co-leads “Vintage,” a missional community which is part of Kairos Network Church based in Harrogate North Yorkshire.  He is husband to Jenna and father to Noah, Bella, and Sophia. In his spare time he tweets @missionalrev and blogs at www.missionalrev.wordpress.com

Eating Stories for Life

“We are narrative creatures, and we need narrative nourishment—narrative catechisms”

—N. D. Wilson

Many of my earliest childhood memories revolve around stories. My parents read to me a good bit. Many of these books were passed down to me and I now read them to my children. Although I didn’t know it then, I was being discipled through those stories. They were providing “narrative nourishment” as N. D. Wilson calls it. Just as we use catechism to sear truths deep into our bones, we must use stories to sear truths into our hearts. Stories mature us by laying hold of our affections. We love the truths of stories and so learn to love the God of truth. In Desiring the Kingdom, James K. A. Smith describes this “narrative nourishment” of affections:

Our ultimate love is oriented by and to a picture of what we think it looks like for us to live well, and that picture then governs, shapes, and motivates our decisions and actions . . . . A vision of the good life captures our hearts and imaginations not by providing a set of rules or ideas, but by painting a picture of what it looks like for us to flourish and live well. This is why such pictures are communicated powerfully in stories, legends, myths, plays, novels, and films rather than dissertations, messages, and monographs” (53).

Famed biologist and atheist, Richard Dawkins acknowledges the power of story when he recently said, “I think it's rather pernicious to inculcate into a child a view of the world which includes supernaturalism – we get enough of that anyway . . . ” and “Even fairy tales, the ones we all love, with wizards or princesses turning into frogs or whatever it was. There’s a very interesting reason why a prince could not turn into a frog – it's statistically too improbable” (The Telegraph, “Reading fairy stories to children is harmful, says Richard Dawkins”).

It was The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe that first fueled my affections. I was enthralled with Narnia’s fairy world, distant, yet so close to my own—a world where sacrificial love wins the day. Later in life, I was intrigued by mythology, King Arthur’s knights, Beowulf, and Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, and later J. R. R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth (a place that holds my affections fast even as an adult).

Many Christians read stories to their children or read fiction for themselves. Some don’t read at all, and simply don’t see the benefit. I worked with an older Christian woman who told me that she never reads fiction because it’s a lie. C. S. Lewis comments on this kind of thinking: “We must not, in false spirituality, withhold our imaginative welcome.” Few, in my experience, read stories as “narrative nourishment”—as fuel to capture our hearts with a vision for beauty and truth that drives our affections to God. I hope to change that.

My daughters love stories with princesses (Frozen was on repeat for months in my home) and mystery like The Boxcar Children. They reenact these stories with cousins and friends using their imagination. My oldest daughter Claire just told me yesterday that it’s hard playing Frozen when her cousin and friend Emma comes over because they all want to be Elsa. The truths of those stories then are rehearsed, and rehearsed, and rehearsed every time they read them and play them out. If stories have this power to grab our affection, then the stories we read (and the ones we don’t read) are important.

The Gospel: A Story Aimed at Our Heart

When we meet together as a church, we rehearse a particular liturgy. The strength of that liturgy depends on how well it connects to the work of the Trinity. In my church, the pastor ends the service with a benediction from Scripture and sends us out into our city. We are scattered with the gospel speeding our steps.

That rehearsal of the gospel is foundation for Christian discipleship. But it should produce a life that’s centered on the gospel throughout the week as well. In a way, all of life should be part of our discipleship—whether we eat, drink, walk, sleep, whatever (Deut. 6:4-9; 1 Cor. 10:31). We live in light of the story of redemption (1 Cor. 15:1-3).

We are rescued by God, redeemed by Christ, and made new by the Spirit. Our lives fit into this gospel narrative, not as heroes, but as integral image-bearers, ambassadors, and heralds of the Christ. When God calls his people to live in a fallen world, he says, “You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God redeemed you; therefore I command you this today” (Deut. 15:15). He rehearses a true story to them. In Old Testament Ethics for the People of God, Christopher Wright says, “Personal experience of God’s goodness is turned into motivation for ethical behaviour that responds out of gratitude and love” (42). This doesn’t change in the New Testament. Paul regularly rehearses the truth of the gospel story (Rom. 1-6; 1 Cor. 15) before providing any kind of ethical imperative (Rom. 12-16). This pattern is a regular feature of Paul’s letters.

Even the development of the New Testament, bears this out. The church first held dear stories of the life and death of Christ and rich doctrine sprung out of those stories—because stories of sacrificial love, death, and resurrection dig into our hearts. We want them to be true. “We all like astonishing tales,“ says G. K. Chesterton, “because they touch the nerve of the ancient instinct of astonishment.” There is no more astonishing tale than God becoming man to die for his enemies.

Stories and Missional Discipleship

So as we read stories that highlight truths that the gospel also teaches us, these are opportunities to nourish the delight, astonishment, and wonder in ourselves, our children, friends, and unbelievers. Once our hearts are in love with the story, our minds will not be long in following suit. Tolkien makes this point in a letter to his son Christopher.

“[C.S.] Lewis recently wrote a most interesting essay (if published I don’t know) showing of what great value the ‘story-value’ was, as mental nourishment—of the whole Chr. story (NT especially). It was a defence of that kind of attitude which we tend to sneer at: the fainthearted that loses faith, but clings at least to the beauty of ‘the story’ as having some permanent value. His point was that they do still in that way get some nourishment and are not cut off wholly from the sap of life: for the beauty of the story while not necessarily a guarantee of its truth is a concomitant of it, and a fidelis is meant to draw nourishment from the beauty as well as the truth.” (‘96 To Christopher Tolkien’, 109)

With stories that don’t reflect truth of the gospel, it’s an opportunity to contrast the gospel truth with the shallow, faulty, affection grabbing stories of that “secular liturgy” as James K. A. Smith calls them. We can read and see what worshiping other gods looks like. How those false stories are lived out. Christopher Wright says, “The ethical teaching of the Old Testament is first and foremost God-centered . . . [T]his underlines for us the importance of the first commandment: ‘You shall have no other gods before me.’ For any ‘other god’ would result in a different ethic” (46). Some stories demonstrate what this different ethic looks like.

Also, reading good stories provides missional opportunities. Whenever I run into atheists who love Lewis’s Narnia or Tolkien’s Middle-Earth, my ears perk up. I know that if they love those stories, if they love truths rehearsed in those worlds, if their hearts are entangled in them, then they are not far from loving the gospel. It’s an amazing way to share the gospel. “If you love that this is true in Middle-Earth, God has done this same sort of thing in our world. How can your heart long for the truth and beauty found in Tolkien, but not in your own life?”

So we must not neglect narrative nourishment. We must eat stories for life—to grow and mature as disciples. Christians who refuse to do so are missing an important part of their discipleship because Christians are part of a story-formed community. C. S. Lewis compares the Christian who refuses narrative nourishment with the non-Christian who eats it as her regular meal.

“A man who disbelieved the Christian story as fact but continually fed on it as myth would, perhaps, be more spiritually alive than one who assented and did not think much about it. The modernist . . . need not be called a fool or hypocrite because he obstinately retains, even in the midst of his intellectual atheism, the language, rites, sacraments, and story of the Christians. The poor man may be clinging (with a wisdom he himself by no means understands) to that which is his life.” (‘Myth Became Fact,’ 67)

Let’s not waste the opportunity for making, maturing, and multiplying disciples that reading, talking about, sharing good stories affords. Scripture is made of stories. Christ fulfills the gospel story. We live in a grand story. And the best stories help us know the gospel better—by grabbing our hearts.

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Mathew B. Sims is the Editor-in-Chief at Exercise.com and has authored, edited, and contributed to several books including A Household Gospel, We Believe: Creeds, Confessions, & Catechisms for Worship, A Guide for Advent, Make, Mature, Multiply, and A Guide for Holy Week. Mathew, LeAnn (his wife), and his daughters Claire, Maddy, and Adele live in Taylors, SC at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains with their Airdale Terrier. They attend Downtown Presbyterian Church (PCA). Visit MathewBryanSims.com!

Paying for Your Sanctification

I meet with a lot of people—that comes with the calling to be a pastor. So I spend a good amount of time in coffee shops and restaurants, talking about the gospel and how it interfaces with our lives. As I meet with folks, I tend to find myself having the same conversation multiple times a week. It’s not the exact same conversation—the names and details are different—but the bottom line doesn’t change. The thing they struggle with is really familiar because it’s the same thing I struggle with every single day. (And I wouldn’t be surprised if maybe you do too.)

Here it is: I tend to view my relationship with God as a series of transactions. We could call this transactional sanctification.

Transactional Sanctification.

Think about the last time you went shopping—for groceries, batteries for the remote, a sweet iPhone that just got replaced with an even sweeter one . . . whatever. It probably went down something like this: You drove to the store, found the items you wanted, walked up to the counter, and the salesperson rang them up.  After getting your total, you pulled out your debt card, transferred money from your account to theirs, they gave you part of their inventory, and you went home.  (Unless you didn’t have enough cash or your card was declined—in which case you went home empty-handed and embarrassed.) Repeat as needed.

It’s amazing how much we tend to view God like that. I do things for God, God does things for me. Quid pro quo. I don’t do the right things for God, God doesn’t do things for me. Now, most of us wouldn’t say it anything like that—but it’s at the core of how we think. If we’ve been around church long enough, we’ve learned to use the language of grace, but most of us are still trying to figure out how to dance to its rhythm.

Let me give you an example. Awhile back, I was meeting with a guy from our church over breakfast. We talked about how he was feeling distant from his wife and how things had been pretty chaotic in his business. Immediately, he follows up by explaining he hasn’t been praying very much, not to mention the fact that he drank a little too much on a fishing trip last weekend. After thinking for a minute, he looks at me and says, “I guess it makes sense.”

You see the formula there, right? Life—inconsistent prayer + getting drunk = God not giving me peace at work or at home. Now, of course, obedience and prayer are important, but could it be that work is crazy just because it is? Could it be that his wife is just going through a lot at her own job, and when you combine his work stress and hers it makes for a pretty rough stretch at home?

Let’s try another example—this one is for all of us pastors. I was reading about a church recently that has experienced unbelievable numeric growth over the past few years. The church is only a couple years old and has several thousand people attending worship. In a recent conversation about this particular church, I listened to two other pastors talking about why this church has grown so quickly. The answer given? “I’ve heard that so-and-so (name of pastor from growing church) spends a ridiculous amount of time in prayer. That guy is with Jesus A LOT, and Jesus shows up in their church.”

Now, I have no doubt that this particular pastor loves Jesus with all his heart and spends tons of time with him. But did you catch the formula? Pastor who loves Jesus + spends lots of time in prayer = God blesses their church with tons of people attending. You do something for God, then God does stuff for you.

Life isn’t a Transaction

Here’s the problem—it doesn’t work that way. Think about all the pastors whose churches aren’t exploding with attendance growth. What do they hear in the above conversation? “I guess if I just pray more maybe my church will grow too. Maybe the reason we’re not seeing similar results is because I haven’t been committed enough to Jesus. Maybe I need to really get serious about prayer—maybe then God will bless our church.” I won’t tell you how many times I’ve had that very conversation with myself—in my head and in my journal.

Transactional sanctification always leads to despair—when you don’t see the results you want, it’s obviously because you didn’t pay a high enough price. If you would only try harder, not screw up so much, and have more faith like all those other people who it seems to be working for, then maybe God would bless you.

As I meet with people, I remind them (and myself) that we are completely loved, accepted, and perfect in Jesus. God is a transactional God, but the transaction has already been completed—at the cost of the very life of Jesus. There is nothing more I can add to it or take away from it. My standing with God is secure—regardless of the “success” of my ministry, family, or career. Can you imagine the freedom and peace that would come if we could truly live out this belief?

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Bill Streger serves as the Lead Pastor of Kaleo Church, an Acts 29 Network church in Houston, TX. Born and raised in Houston, he attended Houston Baptist University and is currently pursuing his M.Div. from Reformed Baptist Seminary. Bill is a husband to Shannon, daddy to Mirabelle and Levi, and a life-long Houston Rockets fan. Twitter @billstreger

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.

Wisdom in Manhood

I read through the book of Proverbs this weekend. As I was trying to discern the right way through a difficult question I was asked and wanted to make sure my answer wasn't couched in cleverness or pragmatic "well it sounds good so let's do it" philosophy. I wanted my answer to be anchored in real, biblical reality. The question I was seeking to answer by looking through Proverbs is an altogether different story. However, I did find something that I believe a lot of churches today would have a difficult time swallowing. Wisdom doesn't really appear like today's "manly man."

Darwinism, Not Biblical Manhood

Today's "manly men" are seemingly the guys that shoot first and take prisoners later. They conquer everything. Passivity has no room in the life of a man. He needs to mount up, shoot the wolves, vanquish the foes, and save the princess. Some of the descriptions I get of the "manly men" today sound a lot like a Gideon (Judges 6-ff) or Sampson (Judges 16-ff). Honestly, those aren't the most exemplary characters in the Bible. Don't agree with me? Read Judges again, you probably remember the flannel-board versions. If there’s no place for weakness in men in the Christian faith then we have Darwinism, not biblical manhood.

“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words” (Rom. 8:26).

“For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men” (1 Cor. 1:25).

“If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness” (2 Cor. 11:30).

“But he said to me, “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. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Cor. 12:9-10).

“For he was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God. For we also are weak in him, but in dealing with you we will live with him by the power of God” (2 Cor. 13:4).

Pursue Wisdom

Yet the kind of person I find in Proverbs that is truly wise is first described as a woman. Lady Wisdom "calls in the streets" (Prov. 1:20). Now, I understand the literary device the writer of Proverbs is trying to use here to coach his son to pursue wisdom. "Boy, think of wisdom as a beautiful, attractive, glorious woman. Pursue wisdom the way you'd pursue her." But then the book gets to describing wisdom. Wisdom doesn't sound like the manly man.

• Wisdom is quiet. It doesn't talk too much, and never runs it mouth (Prov. 13:10, 15:1).
• Wisdom waits, it's patient and sees all the sides before making a decision (Prov. 18:17, Jas. 1:19).
• Wisdom isn't flashy. It quietly goes about its hard work (Ecc. 9:10.
• Wisdom is kind. It covers a multitude of sins (Prov. 16:24, 1 Pt. 4:8).
• Wisdom isn't presumptuous. It lets the person finish before they respond (Prov. 18:13).
• Wisdom doesn't demand the right to be heard. In fact, it rarely even asks to be heard, but those who value wisdom constantly ask for him to speak (Jas. 3:1-12).
• Wisdom is meager. Not building a big platform or making a lot of noise about itself (Prov. 25:27, 27:2, Jas. 3:13-18).
• Wisdom is somber. It's not a coarse joker (Jas. 1:19-21).
• Wisdom is mature. It's not the juvenile, "wrestle-them-to-the-ground," berating, know-it-all that tells you how much he knows (Prov. 18:6-7, Jas. 1:26, 1 Cor. 14:20).

All-in-all wisdom seems like the slow to speak, respected, patient man that we should aspire to be. Not the goof-ball, overconfident, blabbering self-promoters that our culture clings to so much. If anything we should be quiet, grow up, listen up, and get to work. Wisdom doesn't look like the young hip guy with opinions to spare and a head of steam. It looks like the older man who quietly goes about his work. In fact, if you hang out with the older guy, he’ll share the sweet honey of his wisdom (Prov. 24:13-14). Wisdom is “sweetness to the soul and health to the body” (Prov. 16:24). I hope to be the older wise man, not the young fool.

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Jeremy Writebol(@jwritebol) has been training leaders in the church for over thirteen years. He is the author of everPresent: How the Gospel Relocates Us in the Present (GCD Books, 2014) and writes at jwritebol.net. He lives and works in Plymouth, MI as the Campus Pastor of Woodside Bible Church.

Pursuing God’s Vision for Marriage

Many of my friends walked down the wedding aisle to the hymn “Be Thou My Vision.” The melody has an ethereal quality about it. And the lyrics—to say that the lyrics are meaningful would be a gross understatement. I want to walk through every day of my married life embracing the truths of this song in my heart.

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart; Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art . . .

So many things clamor for my attention when I wake up every morning. Regardless of the busyness or dullness of the day, I want the greatest reality to hit me—that the God whose name is I AM is worthy of my praise, my thoughts, and my obedience.

Will the damp towels and clothes left strewn about the room from my husband’s morning routine matter to me when the atoning work of Christ on the cross is my vision for the day? In my husband’s case, leaving towels and clothes draped around the room is not an affront meant to hurt me. But, what if it was? Is God so clearly my vision that I could persist in clinging to his grace in Christ even when my marriage relationship is strained?

Thou my best Thought, by day or by night, Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light . . .

When the tragedies and discouragements of life threaten to overtake our marriage then I want to think on God’s faithfulness by day and by night. Will the urgency of the day’s demands weigh so heavily on my heart and bring out the nag in me when the indwelling Holy Spirit is my comfort and peace?

Waking or sleeping, God’s presence sheds light on how he does all things for his glory. We have no cause to fear the darkness. Today—right now—we can relate to one another by grace, hoping in the future grace to be shown to us in the last day when Christ returns.

In Ephesians Paul describes the marriage relationship as a reflection of the heavenly reality of Christ’s marriage to the church.

Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands. Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her. (Eph. 5:24-25)

Paul goes on to quote Genesis 2:24 to underscore the significance of this mysterious relationship:

Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.

No wonder the second stanza of “Be Thou My Vision” strikes such a chord with couples about to be united as one flesh:

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word; I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord . . .

I wonder if I could dub this song over the soundtrack on the VHS tape of our wedding. Or better yet, what if grace covered over the soundtrack of every petty argument, stray word, and rude remark I’ve ever made to my husband?

The great news is that Jesus has already done that. And he doesn’t just dub over the soundtrack of such things. He removes our sins from us as far away as the east is from the west (Ps. 103:12). By the shed blood of Christ, we are forgiven. The price for my peace-filled, joy-enjoying, grace-exchanging marriage is the precious blood of the spotless Lamb of God. Who am I to scorn the sacrifice that Jesus made?—so I can hold onto my scoffing pride, self-righteous anger, and arrogant impatience toward my husband?

Thou my great Father, I Thy true son; Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one . . .

What a poetic reminder of the priority of fellowship with God and the preeminence of our relationships with him as the foundation for our relationships with our spouses. The power that we need to love our spouses is supplied by God according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus (Phil. 4:19). In Christ, we can serve our partner with the strength that God supplies so that God gets the glory (1 Pt. 4:11).

Be thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight; be thou my whole armor, be thou my true might . . .

My power for holiness is from God, and I see him most clearly in his word, the Bible. The Bible says that God’s grace, not fear or regret, is the song of my life. It sounds like a Christian cliché to say, “We’re together at the foot of the cross.” But when we understand that what puts us at the mercy of God at the foot of the cross is our pervasive inability to love God and each other as we ought, then all of a sudden our sin isn’t so trite anymore.

My husband’s sin isn’t so harmless, either. We’re sinners married to sinners. We sin against each other, sometimes we’re in sin together, and we even leave our sin lying around for our spouse to stumble over. We must see ourselves together at the foot of the cross. Both of us need God to look favorably upon us through Christ’s atoning sacrifice. The blood that covers my sins is the same blood that covers my husband’s sins.

Even if I were not married to a Christian man. . . God has freely given his Son and offers to all the body and blood of his Son Jesus if we will repent and believe. Who am I, a sinner saved by grace, to look on anyone as more desperate for that grace than I am? If I have Jesus then all I know is grace and God’s future for me is grace upon grace. By that grace, we can love our spouses as God has instructed us.

Be thou my soul’s shelter, be thou my strong tower: O raise thou me heavenward, great Power of my power . . .

And what of the millions of little, mundane things that occur each day? What about my sharp tongue, for example? If God did not withhold his only Son giving us all his riches in Christ Jesus, who am I to withhold words of kindness from my husband? Through Christ in me I can speak the truth in love as he commands and compels me. Instead of merely biting my tongue and avoiding hurtful words, by God’s grace my tongue is loosed to edify and build up my husband instead.

When Jesus died on the cross he reconciled us to God and he wrote his song of reconciliation by grace across our entire lives. God has shown us grace and we can be conduits of grace to others.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise: be thou mine inheritance now and always . . .

The reward I am looking for in loving my husband is not bound up in how my husband responds to me. How our souls can be refreshed and our marriages strengthened when we believe: “Thou mine Inheritance, now and always; Thou and Thou only, first in my heart.” A godly husband is a gift from the Lord, and I do enjoy the gift God has given me. But the gift of my husband is meant to draw me to worship the Giver.

Because we are all so prone to worship our gifts, this hymn reminds us to pray, “Be thou and thou only the first in my heart; O Sovereign of heaven, my treasure thou art.”

“Be Thou My Vision” is an epic song to walk down the aisle to. The triumph of God’s grace in Christ is an even greater song to dance to by faith.

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Gloria Furman lives in Dubai with her husband Dave, a pastor at Redeemer Church of Dubai. They have four young kids. Gloria is the author of Glimpses of Grace: Treasuring the Gospel in Your Home (Crossway, 2013) and Treasuring Christ When Your Hands Are Full: Gospel Meditations for Busy Moms (Crossway, 2014). You can read her blog at GloriaFurman.com.