Women’s Ministry Needs the Gospel
Every other day it seems as if I get another email from someone asking if our church has any groups for them to get plugged into and, without actually saying it, wondering how much work is required to be a part of said group. Christian-ese aside, churches have spent years figuring out what it takes to get people involved, many begging to belong. A plethora of books have been written about the many hoops it takes to get those people involved.
The loud cries of those who simply want to be part of something more than just Sunday morning are encouraging, a deep delight to one who plays a role in those groups. Yet, the discouraging part of it all is the drop-off. When the rubber meets the road, when community takes time and growth in the Lord isn’t microwavable, where are all those people who said they wanted this?
Although I don’t have children in this stage of life, the majority of the women I serve are wrestling down not just one but many kids as they attempt to wrestle with the Biblical text. Add the many other hats women wear, children or not, and you have a church-wide problem. Life is busy and we know it.
This has translated into ensuring we create ways to cater to our church body. The positives include providing regular child care, lowering the costs of buying curriculum, and offering many different times for those joining our many groups. The negative side leaves us with much to discuss.
How then should we move forward so that we don’t miss the felt needs of our given group, but also see their true lack with full eyes? In all things, Jesus Christ has provided what we need. The gospel of Jesus calls us to see rightly, though things are dimly lit around us. As we dive deeper in to the world of women’s ministries, we find that the gospel not only calls us to accurately view ourselves in light of Jesus’ death, but also to resurrection life.
THE GOSPEL CALLS US LOWER
The gospel says we are all sinners, and a perfect sacrifice, found only in Christ Jesus, was necessary to save us. As we recognize the weight of what that means, we need to begin to tear down the false gods we have found within ourselves, and within other fallible human beings.
As we examine how we have played a part in this within our women’s ministries, we look specifically at the downfall of what Erin Straza and Hannah Anderson call the “outsourcing of women’s discipleship,” as well as the dangers of what social media has done in women’s circles.
Because of reasons we’ll discuss further, we find that sometimes when women are not being fed in their churches, they look elsewhere to be discipled. Christian publishing and marketing has wholeheartedly embraced this tragedy. Plenty of resources are pumped out to feed these starving souls, in the hope one of those books hits the spot.
The problem, which often springs from a lack of discipleship, moves further in that direction. Not only do these women select the sort of discipleship they want, choosing leaders who look and act like they want to be or are, for better or for worse, but they then are discipled by someone outside the local church body, finding themselves even further disconnected from the struggling body they belong to.
Community is hard, discipleship is hard, and our natural inclination when things get tough is to run. We need women who will stay in their churches and do the hard and dirty work of reformation.
Another issue that has crept into our ministries is the ever-so-tiring need to keep up on social media. We have an astronomical amount of mama blogs, which translate into Instagram accounts where we begin rounds of dissatisfaction with what we have, then trying to keep up on the latest fashion trends and rules for our kids. We also find ourselves judging the ways other women do things. Not only do we have Ruth, the picture-perfect woman Proverbs 31 references, but now we have a gaggle of woman who ride the line of boast and humble-brag daily.
I don’t say this to cast condemnation, but to awaken hearts, including my own, to the ways in which these things translate into our walks with Christ, helping me make sure I’m one step up from where so-and-so is, and that she knows it because I posted a picture of my Bible. It’s not social media that needs to change, but the heart behind what we do.
The great news of the gospel says that though comparison and dissatisfaction have been an issue since the beginning, leaving us incredibly guilty, we have a Savior who paid for those numerous sins.
We don’t have to compare our walks with each other, not if we keep our minds and hearts fixed on Jesus Christ. We don’t have to ditch our churches and find life on our own, not if Jesus calls us into the hard work of true discipleship, which he has mandated. (Genesis 1:28; Matthew 28:19-20; Mark 8:34-37).
THE GOSPEL CALLS US HIGHER
The gospel says that when we die in Christ, we rise with him as well. As we see ourselves clearly as sinners, we also look at what it means to die to ourselves, putting on the garments of Jesus and putting off all that hinders us.
The problem of outsourcing discipleship often starts with being fed poorly. Women’s ministries frequently have been typified by fluffiness. Sometimes those fluffy things can get substituted for meat, and we continue to find ourselves gorging on sweets.
As we figure out what this looks like, hunger cries are met by eating cake, which means craving even more dessert. We then create another issue found in women’s ministry, which is constant activity, but no depth.
There is an immediate need to make Bible study as applicable as possible, leaving women every week with a feeling that “something needs to change” yet little awe for the God that they serve. This inadvertently means that, more times than not, behavior modification, not gospel transformation, is happening in and among us.
Things continue to skim the surface, making it seem plenty easy to dive in, with rewards galore as the book of the Bible we study becomes all about me.
When there’s no depth, we also find lack in our communities. If this is the amount and time we touch the surface with God, then this has to be the amount and time we give to the people around us.
We have been taught to love how people see us love Christ, and not taught to love Christ. We have been taught to love the way we feel after checking off all of the boxes and filling in all the blanks, and not to push through the struggle of true and deep connection with Scripture and others .Discipleship and community should not be pitted against one another, and yet they are as people around us demand they be manufactured for them, and refuse when it takes more than a retreat or simulcast to cultivate.
Our women are still hungry because they don’t yet know what a feast is, and how long it takes to make every part of it delectable and filling. Our palates need to change. The gospel calls us to a feast, the body and blood of Christ, dying to what we may think we crave so we might taste something more glorious, something that does more than stroke our heartstrings or tell us to behave better.
THE GOSPEL CALLS US TO HIDE IN HIM
This diagnosis can seem harsh, and at times, overwhelming. I think anyone can attest to the fact that no community or church they have been a part of has been perfect. Yet this too shows glimmers of his gospel.
Although we fail, flail and fall regularly, Jesus Christ is in the beautiful business of redeeming everything. This is who we point to, the crux of it all. No matter the mess it seems we make as we feeble humans as we attempt to figure out what is best for the sheep here on Earth, this is still where Jesus Christ came and inaugurated his glorious Kingdom.
As ministry leaders, we sit in that already-but-not-yet almost comfortably, knowing we can’t conjure up the best programs to disciple our people well, but that the Spirit is the one who does the work. The gospel calls us to point to Jesus in all that we do. In him we live, move, and have our being, and every part of our ministries should do the same.
Alexiana Fry is a wife, MDiv student, and associate Women’s Director in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Her passion and call is to see the church make whole disciples, pursuing the gospel in the everyday mundane of life. She also finds herself to be highly caffeinated, and blogging regularly at mygivingofthanks.com.
A Playlist for Anxious and Hurting Disciples
I’ve heard it said that every Christian is a theologian. The question isn’t whether you are or aren’t one, but whether you are a good theologian or a poor one. Similarly, every believer is called to be disciple-maker. The question isn’t whether or not we’re called to make disciples, but whether we’re making strong, healthy disciples or weak, shaky ones. We recognize that discipleship is happening in small groups, Sunday School classes, and in one-on-one meetings over coffee. Certainly we would affirm that discipleship is happening as Christians soak up the Scriptures through hearing the word preached. We don’t often talk about the rest of a worship service in the same way, though.
Everything we do as the body gathered, whether following written liturgies or informal ones, hearing pastoral prayers or laundry lists of announcements, tells us something about who we are. This is especially true of the psalms, hymns and spiritual songs we sing together. Music, with an inherent power invested by its Creator, has a rare ability to shape our identity as disciples—as well as our vision of who we can become.
It is especially important, then, for worship pastors and planners to consider how they are making disciples as they prepare for Saturday nights and Sunday mornings. They must be in touch with their people, not just their principles, as they pray and plot. Leading a church through expressions of worship is an extension of that church’s shepherding ministry.
Many Christians will come into a corporate worship service struggling with clinical anxiety or depression. Others are wracked with guilt and shame from sins they’ve committed—or sins committed against them. These wounds may be from the previous six days; they might be from the distant past but feel as fresh as when they were first inflicted.
We want to always lead our fellow disciples to hope in Christ, and to truths that transcend our present realities. Yet we do our brothers and sisters a disservice when we skip steps, moving past grief, pardon, and assurance to triumph and celebration.
As you consider what your church needs to sing this Sunday, or over the course of an entire season of its life, here are four types of songs that can lift the spirits of anxious or hurting disciples.
#1 – SONGS OF LAMENT
Author and scholar Carl Trueman once wrote of the Western church’s failure to sing the entire Bible. He was especially surprised that, given their musical nature, we don’t do a great job of singing the Psalms. The Psalms give us a beautiful model for bringing our laments to God.
Lament is a necessary part of living as a Christian in a broken world, and we should regularly grieve together. The Christians in your church are lamenting individually, whether they call it that or not; our willingness—or lack thereof—to lament as a body communicates something powerful about the perceived rightness or wrongness of that discipline.
We might not preach the prosperity gospel within the walls of our churches, but when we only sing the shiniest, happiest parts of our faith, we run two serious risks.
First, we risk communicating to the hurting among us that they are wrong or defective in some way. They bring their lamentations with them into a worship service. If they are met only with songs that seem to say Christian living is all about joy and fulfillment, it can be devastating.
We also risk communicating something unhelpful to a second group of believers, the one that seems to be doing just fine. There is something good and right about naming our grief and yearning, and laying it at the feet of God. When we don’t make room for corporate lament, we reinforce the idea that it’s just not a necessary part of the Christian life.
That’s why we need songs like Brian Eichelberger’s “Raise Up Your Head.” It follows the path of the psalmist who regularly described his fears and failures, then—even in weak faith and through gritted teeth—just as often reaffirmed what he knew to be true about God.
Eichelberger’s lyrics call Christians to “straighten up” and raise up their heads, to acknowledge that the kingdom of God is imminent. But not before asking “Does your body feel broken? Like a soul stuck to skin? Have you sunken in sorrow from the affects of your sin?” And not before describing the sorry state of the world around us or acknowledging that “all creation is groaning in childbirth pains,” a direct reference to Romans 8:22.
We fear lament, in part, because we fear our people getting stuck there. We act like anyone who admits their depression, sadness, or hurt will be lost to it forever. That’s just not biblical. As the church, we live out our responsibility to one another by modeling what it looks—and sounds like—to lament, then raise up our heads to see our God.
#2 – SONGS OF SURRENDER
Saints suffering from depression and anxiety are, in a sense, more in touch than anyone with the truth that they are not enough to save themselves. They are confronted daily with their inadequacies.
There are two directions to go with that. One leads to despair, defeat, and further spiraling; the other to a glorious surrender. One turns its gaze inward at our broken parts. The other turns our eyes to Jesus, leads us to throw our hands up in the air, put our knees on the floor, and ask God to be everything we lack.
There is arguably no better song of surrender than the classic hymn “Rock of Ages.” Consider these beautiful admissions, these glorious confessions that cast all a soul’s cares on Christ:
- “Not the labor of my hands can fulfill Thy law’s demands.”
- “Thou must save, and Thou alone.”
- “Nothing in my hand I bring / Simply to Thy cross I cling / Naked, come to Thee for dress / Helpless, look to Thee for grace.”
- “Wash me Savior, or I die.”
And of course, the words we sing over and again, “Let me hide myself in Thee.” To the hurting and anxious, few images are more comforting than that of hiding ourselves in God. There we hear the Father say “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).
#3 – “NO CONDEMNATION” SONGS
One of the most beautiful judgments in Scripture is no judgment at all. Romans 8:1 declares, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” While sin is a clear and present danger to our souls, and must be dealt with as such, we do well to agree with God and acknowledge that Christ has removed our sins from our record. “As far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12).
As someone who lives with anxiety, I am quick to rehearse my past mistakes. Some spring from legitimate sins Jesus dealt with on the cross. Others don’t rise to that level, but still loom large in my heart. I think over and over about things I didn’t say, wish I hadn’t said, or things I wish I’d said differently. I stew, sometimes to the point of obsession, about my perceived failures. I need to sing—and hear sung around me—songs that saturate me in the truths of Romans 8:1.
One song that has made a felt difference is John Mark McMillan’s popular “How He Loves.” Near its end, we find this beautiful verse:
“When heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss / And my heart turns violently inside of my chest / I don’t have time to maintain these regrets / When I think about the way that He loves us.”
My anxiety and guilt, real as they are, get crowded out when confronted by the deep, deep love of Jesus. What a beautiful reminder that there is little time to sit around steeped in regret when the God of the universe loves me so well and with such genuine passion.
#4 – SONGS THAT POINT TO THE END OF THE STORY
When reading a novel or watching a movie, it’s not a great idea to turn immediately to the last page or fast forward to the last five minutes. Talk about spoiling it.
The Christian life is a wholly different thing. We have to know the end of the story to live faithfully in the present. We need to meditate on the truth of Christ’s victory. We need to run our fingers over the passages of Scripture that serve as a “save the date” for the wedding supper of the Lamb. When we do, we are stirred to embrace our place in the story even as it unfolds around us.
Christians struggling with depression or plagued by guilt need to hear what awaits them. They need to be reminded of who God says they are, not just who they feel like today. They need to understand that, while they are works in progress, the end result is promised.
A great song toward these ends is “Completely Done” by Jonathan Baird, Ryan Baird, and Rich Gunderlock. The words are a beautiful marriage of Philippians 1:6—“And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ”—and the 24th verse of Jude, which reminds us that God is able to keep us in his love and hold us in his secure grip.
My favorite passage in the song says “What you complete is completely done.” Amen and amen. If it were up to me, I would stay an unfinished man, perpetually in process. But God has completed his work in me, yet is simultaneously bringing it to completion. That truth bucks against—and ultimately triumphs over—any self-talk that tells me I’ll never make it to the finish line or ever experience victory in my struggle with sin.
Of course, these songs aren’t the only ones to fit these categories. The Christian canon is overflowing with examples of songs that are good for the souls of the anxious, depressed, hurting, grief- and guilt-stricken. I am thankful beyond measure that my church sings each of the songs mentioned above—and then some.
A significant part of our corporate worship services is to prepare disciples to be disciples the other six days of the week. Singing songs like these communicates that they are not left alone, that both God and their fellow Christians are with and for them. And these songs equip them with truths they need to fight back against the lies they can easily swallow whole—all set to melodies they can hum in their hearts all week long.
Aarik Danielsen is the arts and music editor at the Columbia Daily Tribune in Columbia, Missouri, where he also serves Karis Church as a lay pastor. Find his work at facebook.com/aarikdanielsenwrites and follow him on Twitter: @aarikdanielsen.
Recapturing the Wonder
In Susanna Clarke’s wonderful fairytale Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, she tells a story about the rediscovery of magic in England in the nineteenth century. In the beginning of the tale, magic has vanished from England. It remains part of English folklore, like the story of King Arthur, but no one has actually practiced it in many years. Nonetheless, there were men who called themselves magicians. They did so in spite of the fact that “not one of these magicians had ever cast the smallest spell, nor by magic caused one leaf to tremble upon a tree, made one mote of dust to alter its course or changed a single hair upon any one’s head. But with this one minor reservation, they enjoyed a reputation as some of the wisest and most magical gentlemen in Yorkshire.” These magicians spent their days in lengthy arguments about theoretical magic, debating the use of this spell over that, nitpicking the details of magic’s history in England, meeting once a month and reading “long, dull papers” to one another. The idea of actually practicing magic was vulgar.
Then Mr. Norrell showed up. He cast a spell that made all of the statues in Yorkshire’s cathedral come to life: shouting, singing, and telling stories about the deaths of the men and women those images they bore. The magicians of Yorkshire were speechless. The world was far different than they’d believed.
I couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness reading Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. I found myself identifying with the magicians of Yorkshire. My life as a Christian had left me with a certain amount of fluency with faith: I could keep up in conversations about theology, the history of the Bible, the world of the first century, and the history of the church. I could talk a bit about apologetics and worldview. And I could talk a good bit about worship and liturgy in the church. But as I read Clarke’s book, I couldn’t help but feel the gap between knowing and know-how, between what I knew I could say about my faith and what I could do with it. At times, my faith felt like a boxed-in corner of my life, separate and distinct from the rest of it.
Strangely, this isn’t because of a lack of events in my life that could be called miraculous. In fact, I’ve seen more than a few things that I can’t explain rationally, and I’ve had spiritual experiences that felt no less than spectacular. But these, too, felt somehow boxed-in, an island I occasionally took a ferry to, rather than the mainland of my everyday experience. Even the little things that make up a “Christian” life—going to church, reading the Bible, and so on—felt tacked on and disconnected from the rest of my life. My ordinary life felt strangely irreligious.
Much of this book is an attempt to understand why such a gap exists and what we might do about it. It’s an attempt to sketch out the spiritual landscape of an age that has been called a “secular age,” an “age of anxiety,” and a “culture of narcissism,” and an effort at finding a path into a different way of life.
Transformation is a before-and-after story, and to know what the after looks like (and how to get there), it’s necessary to have a sense of the before. For most Christians, our before picture is shaped by decades of immersion in this strange world and strange culture that surrounds us. It’s had a deep and powerful formative effect on us.
This is an age where our sense of spiritual possibility, transcendence, and the presence of God has been drained out. What’s left is a spiritual desert, and Christians face the temptation to accept the dryness of that desert as the only possible world. We have enough conviction and faith to be able to call ourselves believers, but we’re compelled to look for ways to live out a Christian life without transcendence and without the active presence of God, practicing what Dallas Willard once called “biblical deism”—a strange bastardization of Christianity that acts as though, once the Bible was written, God left us to sort things out for ourselves.
In such a world, the Bible feels like a dead text and our prayers seem to bounce answerless off the drywall. Practicing our faith feels more fruitless than talking about it, and we end up very much like the magicians of Yorkshire, able to talk fluently about magic and almost certain that it doesn’t exist. The practical magic that’s missing isn’t just the dramatic—healing the sick or raising the dead. Rather, it’s the more quiet and invisible magic of how anxious souls find wholeness and how broken people find healing. We might be fluent in the language of faith but unable to pray, overwhelmed by fear and anxiety, and victim to the compulsive, distracting habits that fill our age. We might be able to articulate the doctrine and dogma of the gospel but feel as though we’re doing so from the outside looking in.
I want to better understand how we got here, the reasons we feel this resistance, and the ways we’ve intentionally and unintentionally cultivated it. Most of all, I want to try to describe how we might live differently.
Mike Cosper is a writer, speaker, and podcaster. In 2016, he founded Harbor Media, a non-profit media company serving Christians in a post-Christian world. He's the host of Cultivated: A Podcast about Faith and Work, and is developing The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, a podcast about faith and culture.
Taken from Recapturing the Wonder by Mike Cosper. Copyright (c) 2017 by Mike Cosper. Published by InterVarsity Press, Downers Grove, IL. www.ivpress.com
The Art of Asking Questions
A few weeks ago I was sitting across the table from a friend who asked, “What is it about discipline that makes you feel steady?” Whoa. My head took a minute to catch up with my heart, which felt like it just took a tailspin in the rain. The intent of her question was obvious—I was losing my sense of self because of the lack of consistency in my life. I felt undone, and I really needed something about each day to be certain.
Her question pierced my heart, not because she knew the intricacy of my condition, but because she knew me. It was the ideal question to make me process what was happening in my heart.
Question Asking Is an Art
Question asking is an art. It’s perhaps the greatest art within networking, parenting, discipleship, and marriage. Questions make people look inside themselves, and whether that’s a frequent occurrence or a rare one, it’s an investment people are created to cherish.
The wonderful truth about God is that he often asks his people questions to lead them where they need to be. Sometimes he uses his authority to tell them, but time and time again in Scripture we see people venture into his purposes because of a question.
I have recently been taken back to Genesis, reading about the beginning of mankind and our fall in the garden. When Adam and Eve disobeyed the Lord and hid from him in their shame, he called out to them. All the while, he knew they had run away and why they were hiding.
Still he asks, “Adam, where are you?” He gently calls to them and pursues their hearts in his concern. His tender prodding is not accusatory, shaming, or passive-aggressive. Rather, it penetrates their defenses with care and boldly invites them into introspection.
Adam immediately unfolds himself in honesty. I heard you, and I was scared because I knew I was naked, that you would surely see what I did. Again, God uses a question to prod at him, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?”
Adam then shifts the blame to Eve, and God turns to ask her, “What have you done?” It’s not that God didn’t know; it’s not even that God needed a confession; what they needed was personal reflection.
Our remorse is greater when it comes from knowing ourselves, rather than a guilt-ridden accusation. God knew that if Adam and Eve could ask themselves these questions, they would discover so much more than how they wronged him. They wouldn’t answer out of fear, guilt, or even a desire to please. They would answer out of brokenness. We get to discover our dependence on God when we process the condition of our naked hearts.
Questions Lead Us into Awareness
The right questions lead us into the awareness that we aren’t self-sufficient. We are drawn to see just how broken we are, and just how compassionate God is. This is true today, and it was true so many centuries ago with Adam and Eve in the garden.
Questions give space for knowing in a way that telling never could. The great thing is that this doesn’t only apply to sin and brokenness, but also to joy and fulfillment. How much greater is a relationship when you pursue one another’s hearts in care and loving investment? Isn’t a gift sweeter when you know someone sought you out in their giving?
God has the ability to uncover himself in a situation simply by asking us to look closer. When we ask, “God, where are you?!” Often we ask in a frenzied, doubtful panic, but God doesn’t usually reply, “RIGHT HERE!”
Instead, he typically responds with grace and control: “Do you remember when I called Noah to build a ship, or Abraham to be a father, or even Peter to walk on water?” Our anxiety subsides and we’re able to say, “Ah, yes. You were with them, and you’re right here with me.”
I think about Jesus, and the way he used questions to lead the disciples. He used questions to reveal truth, reveal purpose, and reveal understanding. Like Jesus, we need to adopt the art of asking questions in discipleship.
The process of understanding can only be transformational when we take ownership of our faith. If we don’t take ownership, then we won’t ever test our belief, our trust, or our faith. We won’t ever ask questions to ourselves either.
I look at so many young girls, even myself, as they move out from under their parents’ wing and venture into “the real world.” They begin jobs where they rub shoulders with non-believers; they are confronted with the temptation to party, or date guys without boundaries. They are exposed to a world without protection and they wander into it. They never had the space to test their faith, and never had the mentor to help them. Jesus asked big questions:
- “Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26)
- "Why did you doubt?" (Matthew 14:31)
- "Why are you thinking these things in your hearts?” (Luke 5:22)
The thing I love most about this is that Jesus wasn’t afraid of people’s doubt. He didn’t hold back from challenging his disciples’ questioning, fear, or disobedience. He didn’t demand they stop—he just lovingly looked at them and questioned why.
How would we change if our mentors simply helped us process what was happening in our hearts and lives? If the approach they took was to help us relate to what was happening inside instead of forcing us to abandon those feelings?
We are scared or ashamed to doubt. As if doubt ever scared Jesus. If he is the authority, then he can disqualify our doubt with one word. Instead, he uses our doubt like a tool to bring us back to him. The thing is, we can do that too. We can manipulate doubt in such a way that the people we’ve been given to shepherd actually get to know God in deeper, more intimate ways because of their questions. If we let them.
A Generation of Vulnerable
This generation is not scared to be vulnerable. We are known for putting all our junk on social media. Whether it’s a passive-aggressive post, or an emotional, unedited photo caption . We don’t hold back from letting our hearts be seen by all the world.
This can be dangerous if it’s not harnessed. If we aren’t careful, our vulnerability will be cheap. It will become an imitation of humility that doesn’t actually better anyone, except our perception that we’re known. I believe that if close friends and mentors learn to ask good questions, our bent towards vulnerability could actually become a tool for mass transformation.
God asked Adam and Eve where they were. We can start there, simply by assessing where our heart is and how to get there. When we survey the condition of our heart, it’s like a roadmap of what truths we need to cling to, what prayers we need to pray, and what lies we may be believing.
The gentle prodding that God models, whether with Adam or with the disciples, is the posture we should take as fellow disciple-makers. When we see the condition of another’s heart, what questions will lead them to the truth they need to receive?
How can you use a question instead of a Bible verse? How can you lead them to think for themselves, towards processing their emotions, and through confronting disbelief?
These questions become profound tools they will use for their entire life. These are the questions they will use to disciple others. They’re the start of a story they’ll tell of transformation.
Chelsea Vaughn (@chelsea725) is currently living in Nashville but has spent time in Texas, Thailand, and Australia. Obviously travel is a passion, along with hours in the kitchen or across the table from good friends. She does freelance writing, editing, and speaking for various organizations and non-profits. She hopes to spend her life using her gift for communication to reach culture and communities with the love of Jesus.
Ask Him for Joy
Like a seismograph, my wife is intimately tuned to recognize any time the ground is moving in the lives and needs 0f our five children. She can sense a fever from a mile away and knows if her offspring need a Kleenex five minutes before a nose begins to run. This has come not only because of the amazingly intuitive and attentive mother she is, but also because of the immense amount of time that she has invested in our children. She has been the primary resource to meet every one of their needs from their conception onward. As each of our five children developed in her womb, there was not a physical need her body didn’t anticipate or provide for them. As they have entered the world and have grown, she has been a constant presence and provider for them. When they have a need, she meets it. As a result, they go to her for almost everything.
It’s a bit humorous when I’m at home, because even when I’m close by and available to meet their needs, my kids don’t default to me as a major resource for their most basic needs. There are times when I will be in the room near my wife when one of my smaller children walks in and asks her a question like, “Does Daddy have to go to work today?” At that moment, Keri and I will exchange a bemused and knowing glance. Her eyes will momentarily return to the child’s, and with the power of a gravitational force (I’m convinced that mothers actually have tractor beams in their eyes) will guide a pair of five year-old eyes—simply with a nod—to my waiting and attentive face. She’ll gently say, “Your dad is right here. Ask him.”
The resulting transformation of a child’s face from query to comprehension (and on a good day, to delight) is miraculous. It’s as if a veil has been lifted and the child has noticed my presence in their world for the very first time. Their eyes widen, a smile broadens across their face, and oftentimes a hug ensues (these are the sweet times). The child’s attention is then diverted to me, and the questioner has been re-introduced to the appropriate party with a simple directive: “Your dad is right here for you. Ask him.”
Christ, the Perfect Mediator
Christian theology has long acknowledged and celebrated Christ’s unique office as Mediator: “For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus” (1 Tim. 2:5). Through his sacrificial and atoning death, burial, resurrection and ascension, Christ has accomplished the enduring reconciliation of relationship between God and his people. There is no greater truth, no greater reality.
And yet the robustness of Jesus’ mediation is often weakened when we tell ourselves that maybe God isn’t really happy with us. Maybe he just tolerates us. So we are hesitant to get too close to him. This is one reason why we need Jesus to continuously run interference for us with an unhappy God.
The fact of the matter is that Christ is such a perfect mediator between us and God that he has provided a way for us to come to the Father directly. His righteousness is now our own (2 Cor. 5:21), and we are counted as fully-vested, adopted children. It is utterly profound, and often rather difficult, for us to believe what Jesus says in John 16:
“In that day you will ask nothing of me. Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full…In that day you will ask in my name, and I do not say to you that I will ask the Father on your behalf; for the Father himself loves you.” – John 16:23–24, 26–27
Jesus references a radical change in relationship between his followers and his Father that will happen through his mediating work; specifically, through his redemptive death, burial, resurrection and ascension. Jesus is assuring his gathered disciples that “that day” will come when direct access to the Father will take place. In that day, Jesus says that we will be able to ask directly, that is, we will be able to pray. We will be able to approach the Father directly in Jesus’ name and through his mediating work—and we will be the ones asking (“I do not say to you that I will ask the Father on your behalf”). In turn, the Father himself will be the one hearing, listening, and responding, “for the Father himself loves you.”
A pastor friend of mine often reminds me that at the core of the gospel is the often-missed truth that Jesus died so that we could pray. The author of the letter to the Hebrews assures us that we may “with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Heb. 4:16). We have truly been given “boldness and access” to the Father “with confidence through our faith in him” (Eph. 2:18, 3:12).
And God expects us to come, to pray, and to ask. In fact, he commands us to ask. He wants us to ask. It’s as if Jesus is saying, “Your Dad is right here for you. Ask him.”
Ask Out of Joy, Not Shame
But, if you’re like me, prayer is often a labor and a grind for you, accompanied by overtones of duty, burden, and guilt. We know we ought to pray, so we simultaneously carry an awareness of our deficiency in prayer. Ask any of your Christian friends how their prayer life is going, and you will likely get a sheepish aversion of the eyes, a quick change of the subject, or a dejected expression.
Yet the fact that we now have access to the very throne of God is incredible, and should be for us a source of much joy. What else could bring us greater joy than a new, intimate relationship with God himself? God doesn’t want us to associate prayer with guilt and shame. Instead, he grants us the ability to find joy in our relationship with him through prayer: “Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full” (Jn. 16:24).
We often take this to mean that our joy will be full because of our receiving, but its true meaning is deeper than this. Joy comes because of the relationship in which we can ask God something because he loves us:
“In that day you will ask in my name, and I do not say to you that I will ask the Father on your behalf; for the Father himself loves you.” – John 16:26-27 (emphasis added)
Perhaps Jesus is saying that joy comes because of our new relationship with the One whom we are asking—the One who is present; the One who loves us; the One who listens to and answers our requests. Because of this new relationship, we are learning to ask for that which is actually able to make us joyful. As a result, we receive what we truly want, the very thing that we will find ourselves asking for, more of God.
ASKING FOR JOY
What if instead of loading our prayer life with false expectations, guilt, fear, aversion, humiliation, anger, frustration, or even boredom, we were to ask for what God is so willing to give? What if we were to ask God for joy?
For God prayer is all about relationship; it’s all about being with his children. And for us, it should be about being with our Father, in whose presence is fullness of joy (Ps. 16:11). God would have you be joyful, even in your sadness, sorrow, broken-heartedness and pain. So come to him—especially if you don’t feel joyful—and ask for joy from the Healer, the Care-giver, and the only One who can turn your sorrow into joy.
Ask for joy! Fight for joy! Find joy! For in Christ, you are in the smiling, happy presence of the God who made you and loves you more than you could ever ask or imagine. He wants to be with you. He wants you to devote your time and attention and energy to him. He loves you and offers you joy.
Your Dad is right here for you. Ask him.
Mike Phay serve as Lead Pastor at FBC Prineville (Oregon) and as an Affiliate Professor at Kilns College in Bend, OR. He has been married to Keri for 20 years and they have five amazing kids (Emma, Caleb, Halle, Maggie, and Daisy). He loves books and coffee, preferably at the same time.
Everything in It’s Place
I recently built the Millennium Falcon. For those who don’t know, the Falcon is one of the greatest spaceships a galaxy far, far away has ever seen. Flown by Han Solo and his sidekick Chewbacca in Star Wars, it is capable of entering hyperdrive at just the right time, and while it might look like a beaten-up old wreck, everyone knows that’s part of its enduring charm. And I helped to build it.
The Lego version, that is.
My children and I opened the beautiful box at the start of a glorious holiday in south Devon and poured over the 1,254 pieces of the famous craft, and my eldest son set about piecing it together. It took him a total of nine hours. Patiently, lovingly, brick by brick, section by section, and with growing excitement, he saw the work of his hands create something spectacular. Even his mother agreed it was superb, and she couldn’t tell the Millennium Falcon from the Starship Enterprise.
If you have ever built anything by Lego—or from Ikea—you will know that success is achieved when you work piece by piece, using each one in all the right places in all the right ways and at all the right times. If you’re trying to build a model to match the picture on the box, then going freestyle is usually a recipe for disaster.
As I watched my son work, it occurred to me how life is like a construction exercise. Our lives are made up of so many different pieces—people, events, circumstances, times, places—that are all being locked together to make our individual stories. Sometimes we don’t see the significance of a tiny piece of the story until later on. Often there seems to be a brick missing, and it’s hard to keep going without it. Or there’s tremendous joy and satisfaction as a particular piece clicks into place and crowns a part of our life project.
The difference between real life and Lego construction, however, is that we are not the ones with the instruction blueprint laid out in front of us. God is. We have individual pieces in our hands, and in the Bible God has given us enough explanation to set us building, but only he has the master plan. We are building our lives, and we have an idea of how we want to do it, and how we hope it will turn out, but there is so much about the shape our lives will take that we cannot control.
The Essence of Ecclesiastes 3
In chapter 1 of Ecclesiastes the Preacher introduced his main thesis: death puts an end to our repetitive quest for greatness and gain and instead teaches us that we are simply part of the generation who came after the last one and before the next. But it’s not just that the whole of our lives comes and goes like a vapor. In chapter 2 the Preacher explained that all the pursuits and pleasures to which we give ourselves within our lives also slip through our fingers with little lasting satisfaction.
Now in chapter 3 the Preacher brings together both the big picture (the whole of life) and the individual parts (the seasons of life) and begins to explain why our lack of control over either is the very thing that can give us hope. There are many ways to embrace our frailty, and nearly all of them involve thinking clearly about time. It is part of living well to accept two things: first, we are enclosed within time’s bounds, and, second, God is not. What we do comes and goes, but “whatever God does endures forever” (3:14). We are each building the project of “me,” constructing the edifice of our lives, but as we do so, we are neither architect nor site manager. We are each writing the story of our lives, but we are not the main author.
Ecclesiastes 3 is a very beautiful chapter, with famous words of poetry often read at funerals, even humanist ones. As we will see, however, the beauty of the Preacher’s poetry in verses 1–8 is only half the story; we need the punch of his prose in verses 9–22 if we are actually to find any joy and hope in the poetry.
The Powerful Pattern of His Poetry (vv. 1–8)
Just as the created world has a rhythmic pattern built into it, so too our lives within this world experience their own regularities and cadences that ebb and flow with the rolling years. Ecclesiastes 3 gives us a poem to show this.
The statement in verse 1—there is a time and a season for everything—is fleshed out in verses 2–8 with an artful literary technique that places polar opposites or extreme positions side by side “as a way of embracing everything that lies between them (e.g., north and south, heaven and earth).”1 So with “a time to be born, and a time to die” (v. 2), the whole of life is captured as being something that has a time for its beginning, a time for its end, and a time for everything else that happens between the decisive moments of start and finish.
After stating the big picture of life and death, the rest of the verses move through different experiences of life and all the varied human activities that most of us engage in or encounter at one time or another. There does not seem to be a logical progression or natural connection between one set of extremes and those that come after or before. If there is any structure, it most likely lies in the fact that the list of opposites is made up of twenty-eight items in fourteen pairs; this means the list is comprised of multiples of seven, the number that symbolizes perfection in the Bible.2 It is a skillful way of again emphasizing the totality of things that are contained within any human life. This is a complete summary of the seasons of life.
It is a mistake to extract these verses from the whole chapter (as is often done) and think they can have their real meaning displayed without looking at how the Preacher follows them in verses 9–22. The poetry is setting up a problem that the prose will seek to resolve. At the same time, however, there is a wonderful richness to the poetry that is worth lingering over.
To begin with, note how the poem expresses the beautiful complexity of life. Some of the opposites in the list can be grouped together into a basic pattern of bad times and good times: there is a time for killing and a time for healing, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. But not all seasons have an opposite that is either straightforwardly good or bad: there is a time to embrace and a time to refrain; there is a time to be silent and a time to speak. Each of these can be good when done at the right time in the right way. Others seem even more ambiguous to us: there is a time to search and a time to give up. Which one of these is favorable or unfavorable? Again, as with chapter 1, the form of the poem is part of the meaning of its content: life is complex, full of good times, hard times, in-between times, and a whole manner of lifestyle choices and decisions that often require a wisdom that seems to escape us. There is a time for every single one of these things.
Observe as well how the combined effect of the poem puts flesh on the skeleton of a human life. There are seasons in the world that act upon us (war and peace), but almost every pair in the poem involves our connectedness to others between the moments of our birth and death. We are profoundly relational beings, and most of the seasons of our lives are taken up with navigating the different stages of our relationships and the effects they have on us. We dance at a wedding, and we mourn the loss of the one we danced with. We laugh together, and we weep for what the people we used to laugh with have done to us. Without thinking, we reach out and touch, but we instinctively respect a different emotional and physical boundary with someone else. We grow to love some people and come to hate others.
If we were somehow to take the seasons of life out of the web of relationships in which we are enmeshed, our lives would become flat and monotonous. We check our calendars every day, but we don’t set the seasons of life just by the patterns of the sun and the moon. Rather, our times are marked by being a daughter and a sister, becoming a wife and a lover, then a mother and a grandmother, and a widow. These are the seasons God gives. The times he grants are bound to the presence or absence of relationship.3
The Preacher is seeking to give us perspective on each of the items in his patterned opposites, while pointing us to the perplexity of this rhythmically ordered arrangement of time. Life is full of flaws. Killing, tearing down, weeping, mourning, hating, warring: these are the times of life we will experience that show us in the most painful of ways that we live east of Eden and under the curse. More than this, the fact that there is no chronological sequence or discernible purpose to the order of each of these items is itself part of the Preacher’s point that we have no control over any of these things. We make real, responsible decisions every single day, but in reality we each know that the seasons of life are almost completely out of our hands. There is a time for everything, but we are not arranging them on our stopwatch. “Three hours for mirth today, and next week I will have just twenty minutes of sorrow, please. Following that I will embark on an entirely new chapter of life with great success, and in two and a half years I will be happy to move on to something new.” We all know life is not like this. So what can we do about it?
Each of the individual aspects of the curse displayed in this poetry combine to point to one great flaw—and here is where I want to make good on my claim that this beautiful poetry on its own can actually do us more harm than good. For notice how the Preacher follows the poetry immediately in verse 9: “What gain has the worker from his toil?” This is the most powerful of sucker punches.
There is a time for everything; life is a lyrical arrangement of good and bad, of relational complexity and nuanced subtleties, and at the end of it all, you go in a box in the cold, hard ground. What have you gained after living all the seasons of life? Nothing. You’re dead. You experienced it all, you came and went, and look: you have no lasting gain. It is vital to see that there is nothing in the first eight verses of chapter 3 that could not have been written by an atheist philosopher or the Poet Laureate. Anyone with enough experience can dramatize life in this way and sum it all up with a lilting flow of rhythmical patterns.
It’s why I’ve heard these words at a humanist funeral, but I have yet to hear a celebrant advance to verse 9. Is it possible that it doesn’t much matter whether you read out verses 1–8 at a humanist funeral or a Christian one? For it is still a funeral. Joe Bloggs might have led a varied life in all its richness, but what has he gained now? Nothing. He’s dead. It’s over.
1. Iain Provan, Ecclesiastes/Song of Songs, NIV Application Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2001), 87.
2. Ibid.
3. Zack Eswine develops these things in characteristically thoughtful ways. See his Recovering Eden: The Gospel according to Ecclesiastes (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2014), 130–35.
David Gibson (PhD, University of Aberdeen) is minister of Trinity Church in Aberdeen, Scotland. Previously he served as a staff worker for the Religious and Theological Studies Fellowship (part of UCCF) and as an assistant minister at High Church, Hilton, Aberdeen. Gibson is also a widely published author of articles and books such as Rich: The Reality of Encountering Jesus and Reading the Decree: Exegesis, Election and Christology in Calvin and Barth.
Content taken from Living Life Backward: How Ecclesiastes Teaches Us to Live in Light of the End by David Gibson, ©2017. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.
From Latter-Day Saint to Sola Scriptura
The Bible opens with a depiction of creation and relationship. With nothing but his words, God brilliantly crafted the universe, planets, seas, skies, and all the creatures found within. His breath gave life to Adam, the first human being and only creation bearing God’s image. Adam was charged with caring for the garden he lived in, and was warned to not eat the fruit of one specific tree among countless others. From there, the Father of all creation lovingly created a companion for his child, a woman named Eve. The first man and woman were free to enjoy deep relationship with one another, as well as with the God who created them. Then the serpent enters the picture. His first order of business is attacking the dependability of God’s word. He finds the first woman and poses a question that seems benign on the surface: “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” With this question the serpent was able to sow a seed of doubt in Eve’s mind about God’s word and its truthfulness. With the reliability of God’s word in question, the temptation to disobey and eat the fruit was an easy sell. “You will not surely die,” the serpent promises Eve—“you will be like God.”
Swindled by the enemy, Adam and Eve disobeyed God’s instruction and ate from the forbidden tree. Sensing their disobedience, they hid from God in panic and shame, but were inevitably found. The Father curses both the man and the woman for their disobedience, and the once close relationship they enjoyed with God was now separated by a chasm called death.
The first recorded divergence from the word of God led to the deception of the first humans, as well as their spiritual separation from the Father. All of mankind experienced the effects of this transgression until generations later when Jesus, the Word made flesh, was crucified then raised to life.
Talking snakes and ancient stories can make it difficult to relate to the events described in Genesis, but Adam and Eve’s story is my story too.
My Experience With the Mormon Church and Sola Scriptura
Eight years ago, I was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, also known as the Mormon church. Mormons believe church authority was disrupted by a great apostasy, that the Old and New Testaments were not preserved from corruption, and that the book of Mormon (in addition to other LDS texts) are inspired scripture. As a Mormon, I considered the Bible to be insufficient and unreliable without the additional doctrine and history delivered by Mormon prophets.
Like Eve, I evaluated the trustworthiness of God’s word and found it to be lacking. And, like Eve, I experienced deception and separation from God. As a Mormon woman, I simply did not believe that God’s promises, instructions, exhortations, and prophecies were authoritative and complete within the Bible.
That is, until I read it.
What the Bible Says About Itself
When a concerned Christian invited me to address a handful of passages in the New Testament, I accepted the challenge with vigor. After all, Mormons do own Bibles and I wasn’t afraid of some misinformed Baptist boy. From there began a several-month excursion through the Bible to try and support my Mormon theology. Little did I know that this would be the undoing of my faith in Mormonism, and the beginning of my conversion to Christianity.
The more I attempted to refute his concerns by studying the Bible, the clearer the truth became to me. I discovered that the Bible declares itself to be God’s word (Heb. 4:12; 1 Thess 2:13), that all teaching can be tested against the Bible (Acts 17:11), and that there were grave warnings for those who sought to change or add to the Bible (Rev. 22:18; Gal. 1).
Suddenly I was confronted with the idea that the Bible alone was the final authority on all things; that it was more reliable than personal revelation, and more dependable than any instruction I had received from a Mormon Prophet or Bishop.
This was a distressing realization for me, to say the least. I was coming to conclusions that were contradictory to everything I had believed as a Mormon. In fact, Mormon scripture specifically teaches its readers that a belief in Sola Scriptura is for “fools” (2 Nephi 29). But the more I read the Bible, the more I felt like a fool myself.
I can relate to Eve hiding behind fig leaves upon realizing her error. Not only did I feel ashamed of my folly in an intellectual sense, but I was also suddenly aware of the profound distance between myself and God. I had no trust that he was who he said he was. I had no confidence in his promises, and I only paid lip service to his commands. And because I had no trust in his word, I had no relationship with him. This was a shocking revelation for me.
Accepting God’s word as trustworthy was the catalyst that led to my rejection of Mormonism and the beginning of my new life in Christ. This single realization has continued to shape and reform my theology and practice as a Christian today, and so it should for all Christians.
Every Believer’s Struggle
Mormons aren’t the only ones who distrust the authority of the Bible. In a larger sense, all humans wrestle with the authenticity and importance of God’s word, and all of us have heard (or spoken) the same inquiry Eve heard in the Garden of Eden:
- “Did God really say that there is only one way to eternal life?”
- “Did God really say that sin sends people to Hell?”
- “Did God really say that lust is as bad as adultery?”
- “Did God really say that we must love our enemies?”
- “Did God really say?”
For those who are separated from God by disbelief and heresy, it is difficult to arrive at a solid answer to these questions. But for Bible-believing Christians, we can answer the question, “Did God really say?” directly with God’s own word in the Old and New Testaments. Christians are uniquely equipped by their creator to answer tough questions about God’s work, plans, and character because we’ve been given the answers in the Bible. The Father did not leave his children empty-handed, unable to provide a rebuttal to temptation and confusion.
Understanding the trustworthiness of of the Bible allows me to continually cultivate a deeper relationship with God like Adam and Eve experienced before the fall. After all, if the Bible’s history and instruction is authoritative, then so are God’s promises to me. If the Bible is trustworthy, then so is the comfort and encouragement I that I can find there. If the Bible is complete, then there is no waiting for further instruction on how I am to conduct myself as a Christian. God’s word not only saves sinners and equips the saints, but it reconciles men and women, drawing them near to their creator once again.
Rachelle Cox converted from Mormonism six years ago and is now passionate about helping women understand God’s good word and good theology. She is a women’s ministry intern at Karis Church, and is beginning her theological education at Boyce College. She loves serving her husband and two children, and writes at http://eachpassingphase.com
Why You Don’t Read Your Bible (and How to Start)
Over and over again, studies show the most important thing for spiritual growth is reading the Bible, yet most people in the church aren’t doing it. Only 45% of those who regularly attend church read the Bible more than once a week. For each church attender who does read their Bible every day, there’s someone else who doesn’t read it at all. Biblical illiteracy is an epidemic.
I say this as a pastor who talks to people every week, inside and outside the church, with next to no biblical knowledge. The most concerning thing is that there doesn’t seem to be a distinction between those who are new to the faith and those who isave been Christians for several years, sometimes even a decade or more.
Why is it that despite the evidence, despite our sincere longing to grow spiritually, we don’t do the one thing most capable of producing that growth?
In my experience, there are two main reasons people don’t read their Bible. The first is that people honestly don’t understand the Bible holds transformational power. Second, they don’t read the Bible because they don’t know how to find delight in reading it. Both issues are worth understanding in more detail.
Understanding the transforming power of God’s Word
Why do people always tell you to read your Bible more? Seriously, why do pastors and writers and bloggers go on and on about being in the Bible each and every day? Besides the overwhelming research indicating Bible engagement is crucial to spiritual growth, it’s because the Bible itself tells us that the Word of God is the only thing powerful enough to transform the human heart.
Nowhere is this seen in more vivid detail than the prophet Ezekiel’s vision from God of the valley of bones:
“The hand of the LORD was upon me, and he brought me out in the Spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of the valley; it was full of bones. And he led me around among them, and behold, there were very many on the surface of the valley, and behold, they were very dry. And he said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” And I answered, “O Lord GOD, you know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy over these bones, and say to them, O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD.” – Ezekiel 37:1-4
Ezekiel knows he’s helpless to bring this bunch of skeletons to life. He says, “God, I don’t know, but you do.” Good answer.
God tells Ezekiel what it takes to bring the bones to life—his words. Ezekiel then speaks the Word of God over those dry bones and the unthinkable happens:
“And I looked, and behold, there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them…So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived and stood on their feet, an exceedingly great army.” – Ezekiel 37:8,10
God spoke and enfleshed those piles of bones, then breathed into them the breath of life. All through the power of His Word.
Just how powerful is God’s Word? The book of Hebrews tells us that all things are held together by the power of God’s Word: “He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power” (Heb. 1:3).
That same life-giving, universe-sustaining power is still wielded through the Word of the Lord. But these days, we don’t have to hear from prophets or judges or priests. The opening of the book of Hebrews tells us, “Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son” (Heb. 1:1-2).
The Son (Jesus), then, is how we hear the Word of God today. And where are his teachings and commandments recorded? In the Bible. The more we read the Bible, the more we see how every verse is about Jesus. So if we want access to the transforming power of God through Christ, we have to read the Bible.
How to get started understanding the power of the Bible
If we want to be brought back to life, if we want to see a new heart made of flesh beating in our chest, then we will be students of the living, breathing, active Word of God (Heb. 4:12).
If you’ve never understood that, don’t stop until you do. Many people have never been walked through the truths Scripture contains about its own power in a way that made them see the importance of Bible reading. Don’t feel bad. Just get started.
If you’re not sure where to look, start by reading “Study Logically” chapter of Multiply, a discipleship curriculum. It will help you understand why we should be studying the Bible in very clear language. (This chapter is in part 3 of the book, which is all about how to study the Bible. It’s well worth the time. In fact, the whole book is great. And free!)
The goal of using any resource like this is for you to see the transformational power of the Bible. Rick Warren sums up well what you’re after when learning to read the Bible:
“Reading the Bible generates life, it produces change, it heals hurts, it builds character, it transforms circumstances, it imparts joy, it overcomes adversity, it defeats temptation, it infuses hope, it releases power, it cleanses the mind.”
May you and I know those things to be true through our own experience with God’s Word.
Finding delight in reading the Bible
An even more common reason for not reading the Bible is not finding delight in reading it.
Imagine yourself sitting down to a table with fresh white linens draped over top. Several pristine utensils sit before you. The napkin is folded into some beautiful geometric shape. It sits just above a clean, white plate. And on that plate is a big, black leather Bible.
As you look down at that Bible, does it look like the dessert you can’t wait to dig into, or does it look more like the brussels sprouts you shove aside so you can get to the good stuff?
The answer to that question means everything.
Too many of us look down and see a strange, foreign book we want to love, but we don’t know quite what to do with it. It’s just never tasted good, so we move it around on the plate and pretend to enjoy it.
That is not what God intended.
God’s Word should be delighting us just like it did the psalmist in Psalm 19:
“The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul; the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple; the precepts of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the LORD is pure, enlightening the eyes; the fear of the LORD is clean, enduring forever; the rules of the LORD are true, and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb. Moreover, by them is your servant warned; in keeping them there is great reward.” – Psalm 19:7-11
In just five verses, we’re told that the Word of God is perfect, trustworthy, good, clear, eternal, true, and sweet. Is that how you feel about the Bible?
If those stats mentioned earlier are true, probably not. So what do you do?
How to start finding delight in reading the Bible
For starters, you don’t find delight in reading the Bible until you start reading the Bible. Like any other discipline or practice, the more you do it, the more natural it becomes, and the more you’ll start to enjoy it. If you’ve never really given daily Bible reading a shot, of course it’s difficult in the beginning. Of course it’s hard to do and hard to understand. But that doesn’t mean you should stop; it just means you’ve got work to do.
The best way to jump in is to pick a yearly reading plan through the free YouVersion app, one your church provides, or something like my current favorite, the Read Scripture plan. Read Scripture is available as a free app or PDF that has helpful videos to better understand each book and major theme of the Bible. There’s also a (sometimes) weekly podcast with Francis Chan where he talks through the week’s readings and helps you better understand and apply it.
There are plenty of good options out there, but which plan you choose really isn’t the point. It matters less how you’re reading through the Bible, and more that you’re actually doing it. Discipline yourself to get up at the same time every day and hear from God by opening the Bible. Over time, you’ll find it to be an indispensable part of your day.
What to do if you hit a road block
If you’ve tried to build a daily habit and failed miserably (like I have many times), or you just can’t seem to get into it, there is something that will help. First, pray for God to give you a heart for the Bible. If you’re seeking his truth, he will answer you (Matt. 7:7).
But second, talk to someone or listen to someone who loves God’s Word. This was catalytic in my own learning to delight in God’s Word. If you’ve never really seen someone who loves God’s Word, then you have no picture of how it can transform your life and bring joy to the core of your being.
If that’s you, then I’d suggest listening to or watching this series of videos from David Platt on how to study the Bible (and following along with the notes they have). It’s a big investment, but so, so worth it. The teacher, David Platt, loves God’s Word, and it’s evident in his voice and demeanor. I’m in seminary, so believe me when I say that what he takes you through is a seminary-level education for the everyday person. And it’s all free.
Even more important is finding a way to study the Bible in community with other believers, preferably in your own local church. Reading the Word in community guards against false teaching and honest misunderstandings. Plus, you may find helpful suggestions for overcoming roadblocks in your personal study by talking to others in your small group, missional community, or serve teams.
Don’t put this off
At the end of your life, you will give an account to God for how you spent your time (Rom. 14:12). At that time, all the moments you wasted on Netflix, Facebook, or whatever else will be abundantly clear to you. Please, see the reality of what’s at stake now. Don’t put this off until later.
God has revealed himself to us. He has told us how to live and work and think and act. And it’s all in the Bible. You probably own 2 or more if you’re reading this. Or you probably have a smartphone and can download a free Bible app right now. In many parts of the world today, we have no excuse for not reading the Bible because it’s so widely available.
The most precious gift I can give you or anyone else is encouragement to build a lifelong passion for studying God’s Word. My prayer for you is that these words from Martin Luther would be true of you:
“The Bible is alive, it speaks to me, it has feet, it runs after me, it has hands, it lays hold [of] me.”
Grayson Pope is a husband and father of three. He serves as Pastor of Community at his church in Charlotte, NC and is currently pursuing a MACS at The Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. Grayson’s Passion is to equip believers for everyday discipleship to Jesus.
SaveSave
Humanity’s Oldest Ache
In an interview with The Atlantic, Tiffany Watt Smith, author of The Book of Human Emotions, described her research on the role that language plays in our emotional lives. As Smith argues, words not only describe how we feel, they distinctly shape how we understand our feelings. As complex emotional beings, we need nomenclature for fear and self-doubt, longing and desire. In short, we must be taught to explain ourselves to ourselves as well as to others. “One of the emotions I became really interested in when researching the book was homesickness,” Smith described in the interview. In the mid- to late-eighteenth century, homesickness was counted a credible source of physical ailment and even considered a possible cause of death. According to medical records, homesick patients experienced the expected symptoms of depression and fatigue, but they also suffered surprising physical ones, such as sores, pustules, and fevers. In severe cases, sufferers refused to eat, growing so weak as to eventually die. Their doctors labeled their deaths severe cases of nostalgia—from nostos, “homecoming,” and algia, “pain.” (The last mention of “nostalgia” on a death certificate was in 1918.)
Nostalgia may have disappeared from our medical dictionaries, but we have not cured the ache for home. To be human is to know the grief of some paradise lost. Each of us—however happily settled—suffers a foreboding sense of rupture, as if we have been cut off from some hidden source of happiness. We are not unlike Lot, the nephew of Abraham, who parts from his uncle upon arriving in Canaan. When given first pick of the land, without any living memory of Eden, Lot scans the horizon and settles in the well-watered Jordan Valley because it bears resemblance to “the garden of the Lord” (Gen 13:10). Lot suffered nostalgia—or, as the French would say, maladie du pays: sickness of [a lost] country.
Biblical words related to home can denote physical dwelling, family household, material possessions, as well as geographical and social connections, but these words only hint at the emotional dimensions of the English word home and its cousins in German, Danish, Swedish, Icelandic, and Dutch. In these languages home connotes much more than geography and material reality; home also describes an emotional state of being. For the linguistic ancestors of the Old Norse, home, heima, means more than bricks and mortar. In part, its walls are safety, its windows, welcome. Provided there is intimacy and a sense of belonging, a home can be made in almost any place.
Home represents humanity’s most visceral ache—and our oldest desire.
The Witness of Literature
Instinctive to the witness of Western Literature is the longing for home. Odysseus spent ten years fighting at Troy and another ten years getting home. His son, Telemachus, awaiting his father, defends his mother from the string of suitors wishing against Odysseus’s safe return. He laments his father’s exile: “How I wish I could have been rather son to some fortunate man, whom old age overtook among his possessions.” Telemachus senses the privilege of belonging to a place that serves as witness to our birth and spectator to our death, and understands that home is the place for being recognized, received, remembered. Missed. In the face of death, home, as perceived stability, is one hedge against the terror of the réveil mortel—the wake-up call to mortality. As writer Julian Barnes has put it in his novel Nothing to Be Frightened Of, we live with “the vicious awareness that this is a rented world.” The grass withers, and the flowers fade: ours is an impermanent life. At the very least, home is a steadying consolation when the lights go out.
The novel is a powerful literary witness to human nostalgia: as philosopher and literary critic George Lukacs has written, the novel is the great form of “transcendental homelessness.” This is to say that from Don Quixote to Don DeLillo, the world’s greatest writers are giving voice to our inexorable grief at lostness and our irrepressible joy at being found. Homelessness, whether physical or spiritual, is the terror of the elements and the threat of an angry sky. Home is the dry place we are all searching for. Humans need home.
The Old, Old Story of Home
The biblical narrative begins and ends at home. From the Garden of Eden to the New Jerusalem, we are hardwired for place and for permanence, for rest and refuge, for presence and protection. We long for home because welcome was our first gift of grace and it will be our last. The setting of our first home and our last home testify to the nature of the embodied story God is writing in human history. Because God’s story begins in a garden and ends in a city, place isn’t incidental to Christian hope, just as bodies aren’t incidental to salvation. God will resurrect our bodies, and he will—finally—bring us home. As Craig Bartholomew, author of Where Mortals Dwell, concludes, “One of the glories of being human and creaturely is to be implaced.” The “fortune” of home, as Homer puts it, is the witness of Genesis and of Revelation. God will never leave any of his children to homelessness.
Jen Pollock Michel is the author of Christianity Today’s 2015 Book of the Year, Teach Us to Want, which has also been produced as an original video series by RightNow Media. She is a regular contributor to Christianity Today’s popular Her.meneutics blog and Moody Bible Institute’s Today in the Word. She blogs regularly on her website at jenpollockmichel.com.
Taken from Keeping Place by Jen Pollock Michel. Copyright (c) 2017 by Jen Pollock Michel. Published by InterVarsity Press, Downers Grove, IL. www.ivpress.com
Odd, but Good, News
On a cold February night in Lake Placid, New York, a few thousand American men and women cheered hysterically in disbelief. So did Al Michaels, a man paid to be stoic and professional as he announced the broadcasted hockey game. “Do you believe in miracles?! Yes!” The United States National Hockey Team shocked the world and defeated the Soviet Union, the Goliath of hockey at the time, before going on to win the gold medal. Who would have guessed? John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, two American revolutionaries, stood divided over how much of the federal government’s nose should be in the people’s business. Disparagement and muckraking ensued. But time healed these wounds, and Adams and Jefferson went on to become friends again, writing letters back and forth for over a decade. Their lives ended five hours apart from each other on the same day. That day was July 4—the very same day their country would celebrate its independence.
I sat down with my family to play a trivia game. The question read, “Which of these state laws is true?” There are four choices. I picked the answer that sounded the most ridiculous, one we all laughed at when we read it aloud, and I got it right. “It was too strange not to be true,” I quipped.
Sometimes, what makes the truth so believable is how unbelievable it is. This is why G.K. Chesterton said, “There is generally something odd in the truth.” It was a sense of oddness that saved my faith some years ago.
MY QUEST FOR TRUTH
At some point, every Christian deals with the reality of doubt in their lives. Maybe it’s a momentary thought or a season of spiritual depression, but we all have a time when we ask ourselves, “Is all of this really true? Is the Bible really God’s words? Is Jesus who he said he was?”
My moment was brief, but very real. It was more than an annoyance or a bother—it shook me. I felt like I was in a spiritual crisis. Would a few questions topple decades of Christian teaching I experienced? I began to read notable Christian apologists and secular New Atheists in tandem. My thought was to weigh the two sides, see which one holds more clout and makes more sense, then go with whichever one made more sense. That was not a foolproof decision, though. After all, my quest revolved around faith—a word contingent on mystery and trust. I soon realized that in order to profess or deny faith in Christ, one must come face-to-face with God’s Word itself and say, “Yes,” or, “No.”
So, I put down Richard Bauckham and Richard Dawkins and picked up the Bible. These words are different, claiming to be the self-professed words of God. They are their own apologist. If that was the case, then I could simply read these words and see what happened.
THE ODDNESS OF SCRIPTURE
As I began to read the Scriptures, I pleaded with God: “Help my unbelief!” And he did. One way he did was by pointing me to the oddity of it all. It was that same strangeness in the truth I had identified over a board game, the unnaturalness that made me say, “That must be the answer…” And I believed.
I read about Adam and Eve. As I read the opening chapters of Genesis, my eyes almost glazed over. Thankfully, the Lord stopped me in my tracks with a sentence I had never noticed before. “And the LORD God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them” (Gen. 3:21).
I’m not sure why, but it stunned me. I began to wonder why. Why would God do this, especially to people who just spit in his face with their sinfulness? Why would the author include this detail? This is…odd.
I kept reading. I found more odd things.
I read about Noah, but from God’s perspective for the first time. Mankind had been nothing but a disgrace to his name. God has every right, as holy Ruler of all, to condemn them and go back to the drawing board. But he doesn’t. He gives a sin-stained race a second chance through the line of Noah.
I read about Abraham, who God blesses with a son in remarkably old age, only to ask Abraham to climb a mountain and sacrifice him before eventually preserving his life in the end.
I read that God appoints a man named Moses with a lisp to make one of the most important speeches in all of human history. God called him to go before King Pharaoh and demand the release of God’s people, and pronounce judgment if he fails to do so. This same man receives tablets with laws inscribed by God’s own finger.
I read prophecy after prophecy. I had hoped to catch a contradiction or an unfulfilled anecdote that all of church history skipped over. Nothing. The mercy of God litters chapter after chapter. What in the world? Even the genealogies are bewildering. God uses two prostitutes, an adulterous murderer, and a former pagan from Moab to pave the way for the promised King of all Kings.
Then I read about the birth of this King, whom the Bible calls “the Word made flesh” —Jesus Christ. It’s easy to miss just how odd this is when we’ve read it so much. God became man—that’s odd! He took on human flesh. He drank wine with the worst social class. He was a carpenter that travelled as a rabbi. He made blind men see. He slept. He became sin even then he knew no sin. He died on a cross for a stubborn, stiff-necked people. He was dead for three days, then came back to life. After he resurrected, he wanted some fish to eat. After all that, Jesus told his followers it was better for him to leave, but he promised he would send the Helper to remain with them in their hearts.
God has built His Church and preserved His Word over the course of human history. It’s the clear-cut, number one most widely-read, data-confirmed story in antiquity the world has ever heard, and the race for second is not even close.
I COULD NOT HAVE GUESSED
Little of this makes sense to my brain. If I was writing these stories,
- Adam and Eve would have been dismissed from the Garden naked and perpetually ashamed.
- Noah would have been drowned, too.
- Isaac would never have went to the mountain.
- Human error would have allowed for a prophecy here or there to be incorrect.
- God would have stayed where he was, and it would have been mankind’s responsibility to get their act together to get the benefits of heaven.
- Jesus wouldn’t have eaten a fish dinner.
The complexity, the oddness, of these events, rattled me. There was so much specificity, so much ugly, so much unlike what I could have imagined had I created this story myself. I began to realize that Scripture is not just this ancient set of tall tales, religious platitudes, and allegories. Instead of being old and dead, God’s Word is alive and active (Heb. 4:12). It is historical, and, therefore, visceral. It gets brutally honest and takes turns no one could have foreseen. We could have never written it. It is unpredictable, and therefore, worthy of our attention—but more than attention. If God is who he says he is in his Word, he becomes worthy of our worship.
C.S. Lewis sums this up in Mere Christianity:
“Reality, in fact, is usually something you could not have guessed. That is one of the reasons I believe Christianity. It is a religion that you could not have guessed. If it offered us just the kind of universe we had always expected, I should feel we were making it up. But, in fact, it is not the sort of thing anyone would have made up. It has just that queer twist about it that real things have.”
ODD, BUT GOOD, NEWS
The Miracle on Ice. The friendship of Adams and Jefferson.A state law in Alabama. God made man. Grace for sinners.
The story that God tells in and through His Word is truly unpredictable, not because God governs the world with haphazard hands, but because our minds can hardly fathom the truth of it all.
This year, Protestants everywhere celebrate the 500th anniversary of the Reformation, a time in which the commitment to Scripture alone was professed loud and clear. As one reads Scripture, he will find that God makes one invitation throughout the text to the reader: “Take me at my Word.”
Perhaps you hang in the tension of doubt and wonder what this means, if anything. Consider the uniqueness, the honesty, the earthiness of the biblical stories. Both Christian and secular apologists will give you everything they’ve got in terms of evidence, but at the end of the day your belief or unbelief will come down to your willingness to take God at His Word.
When you sift through the thin pages of a Bible, you will find a lot that is unlike anything you’ve ever read or heard. And that might be just enough to convince you.
Zach Barnhart currently serves as Student Pastor of Northlake Church in Lago Vista, TX. He holds a Bachelor of Science from Middle Tennessee State University, and is currently studying at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, seeking a Master of Theological Studies degree. He is married to his wife, Hannah. You can follow Zach on Twitter @zachbarnhart or check out his personal blog, Cultivated.
Welcoming Singles In Your Church
The church has to engage and connect with singles. We’ve found this new resource from Gina Dalfonzo to be very helpful for showing the church a way to love, care, and serve singles within the church.
— The Team at GCD
If you're interested in helping single Christians to integrate more fully into your church — or simply in connecting with your single brother or sister in Christ in ways that will bless and build up both of you — here are some practical steps you can take.
Look.
Train yourself to see—really see—the single people in your church. Don’t ignore them as you make a beeline to talk to others who are just like you; don’t glance past them at the family walking or sitting just behind them. Make it a point to look for them and look at them. Practice this at every church service, every Bible study, every worship team or choir practice, every congregational meeting. Pay attention. The more you train your eyes to notice and your mind to recognize that they’re among you and they matter, the more they will matter to you.
Listen.
Don’t just stop at looking, of course—that would be pointless and a little creepy. When you notice a single person at church, make the effort to go over and talk. And to listen. You’d think the two—talking and listening—would automatically go together, but the truth is they don’t always. Ask questions, and really listen to and consider the answers. Remember that people can tell whether you’re talking just to hear yourself talk or you really want to also hear what they’re saying. Bob and Nancy were friends and mentors to me at my former church. I remember one time when Bob simply said to me, “How are you?” and I froze, lost for words, because I honestly could not remember the last time someone had said that to me in that way—a way that indicated they actually cared how I was. Be that person. Be the person who asks, and cares, and listens.
Learn.
This is, of course, very closely related to listening, but it goes deeper. To learn, you have to listen with your defenses down, or at least a little lowered. You have to be willing to acknowledge that there are people in your church who are different from you, who have experiences and memories and points of view that may be very different from yours—and that this is okay. We may pay lip service to that idea, but few of us are really comfortable with it when confronted with it head-on. You may feel an overwhelming urge to correct, to override, to corral the conversation and bring it back to where you feel safe. Don’t do it. Resist the urge to react. Even if you feel that you’re hearing something wrong or unfair or naive—and perhaps you are—practice the art of restraint. You can make your points or your arguments another time, perhaps after you’ve gotten to know the person better and established an actual relationship. And bear in mind that, on issues of singleness and marriage, yours is most likely the mainstream point of view in your church. The single person has already heard your point of view from the pulpit and from the congregation and from all over the church, but has anyone heard his or hers? Maybe you’ll be the first. Don’t squander the opportunity.
Love.
This is where you take what you’ve learned and put it into practice, both by reaching out in friendship to the single Christians around you and by helping the church incorporate their ideas and meet their needs. This is how you demonstrate the love of Christ for your single brothers and sisters in the church.
I’m not saying it’s easy; it’s not. It takes time and effort and genuine concern for their welfare. Why make that effort? Because of the words of Jesus in Matthew 25:40: “Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.”
Single people in church too often have been relegated to the role of “the least of these.” You can start to change that. In doing so, you can paint a truer picture of Christ, not just for single people but for the church and the world.
Gina Dalfonzo is the editor of BreakPoint.org (website of The Colson Center), as well as an occasional writer for BreakPoint Radio. She is also editor of Dickensblog and a columnist at Christ & Pop Culture. Her writing has been published in The Atlantic, Christianity Today, First Things, National Review, The Weekly Standard, Guideposts, Aleteia, The Stream and OnFaith, among others. She earned her BA in English from Messiah College and her MA, also in English, from George Mason University. Dalfonzo lives in Springfield, Virginia.
Content taken from One by One by Gina Dalfonzo, ©2017. Used by permission of Baker Books, bakerpublishinggroup.com/bakerbooks
Something Greater Than Disney
“You pore over the Scriptures because you think you have eternal life in them, and yet they testify about me.” — John 5:39, CSB
I remember the day I missed meeting my hero.
As a 10-year old, I had posters and baseball cards of the greatest player of my childhood. The name Mark McGwire was spoken in reverential terms, hallowed among the Little League dugouts I live d in during hot, humid southern Missouri summers. Alongside his equally powerful "Bash Brother," Jose Canseco, we would imagine hitting home runs with the same power and distance. I was sure whenever the opportunity came for me to meet Mark McGwire and get his autograph, I would be ready.
Surprisingly, the meeting did occur. I literally ran into Mark McGwire. To my dismay, even some 30 years later, I did not recognize him. I was not ready with his rookie card in my back pocket and a Sharpie for him to sign it. I did not get to tell him how great his swing was or how I really wanted to be in the Oakland A’s dugout. Instead, I was distracted, focused on other things, not paying attention to where I was going as I walked through Disneyland with my family that fateful July 1989 evening.
The Major League Baseball All-Star game was in Anaheim that year, and the players were guests of honor at the evening Main Street Electrical Parade. Too overcome by all the magic and fun of a day at Disneyland, I was barely tuned into a scene where my favorite ballplayers were in the same location that I was.
As the spectacle concluded we wandered through the park wrapping up a day full of fun at the “happiest place on Earth." I don’t have a vivid memory of where in the park we were, except that it was dark, I was tired, and we were walking looking for one final, magical Mickey fix.
Distracted by all the activity around me, I plowed right into a rock-wall of a human being. I remember a chuckle, my embarrassment as I said "Excuse me," and walking along as if I had just run into an actual wall. As we moved on my dad pointed out that I had just walked into Mark McGwire. And yet, I had missed him.
Missing Great Glory for Just Good Enough
It may seem unfortunate that this happened to a wide-eyed 10-year-old , but the same thing happens to us often as we engage the Bible. We miss the greatest glory of the Scripture for side issues and lesser beauties. We miss the center of Scripture for the outlying artifacts that all point to the center itself. We miss the hero and focus on the attractions and events. We miss Jesus.
The religious leaders and thinkers of Jesus’ day were the chief violators of this reality. Day after day they would pore over the Scriptures. Bible study was their constant habit. They were masters of the Hebrew Bible, well versed in the story, law, poetry, and prophets. They won all the "sword drills," accumulated every Citation Award, and could recited every “Fighter Verse” written to date verbatim.
This pursuit of Bible excellence was commended. D.A. Carson points out, “Hillel affirms that the more study of the law, the more life, and that if a man gains for himself words of the law he has gained for himself life in the world to come.”1
Their Biblical mastery was superior, and from that superior position, it was assumed they possessed true life. In a way, they lived thinking he who memorizes the most verses wins.
Jesus, however, gave no satisfaction to this pursuit but rather condemned them for missing the point. Instead of seeing that the Scriptures were pointing clearly and explicitly to him as the Messiah, the religious leaders were unwilling to follow the signposts to Christ. Like a starving person focused more on place settings and silverware than the actual food that will save his life, these people cared little for the life offered to them in Jesus but rather wanted to parse, debate, and hyper-analyze the practices of keeping the religious law.
The problem wasn’t just one of Jesus’ day. Modern expressions of this kind of missing the point are commonplace within the church. Often I hear the Bible is talked about as an “instruction manual for life.” As if, by following the rules of the Bible we would be able to assemble the good life, much like following the instructions for IKEA furniture would lead to a completed Swedish apartment. This makes the Bible a moral sourcebook that misses the point of the greatness and glory of Jesus.
Another perspective is that the Bible is a "love letter from God." While it is true that the Bible shows us the love of God in Christ, the Bible's purpose is not to exist as a therapeutic resource to help lift our self-esteem. The purpose of God’s Word isn’t to wrap us in a warm, cuddly expression of how great and wonderful and loved we are because God finds us so valuable and worthwhile.
Yes, the Bible does include moral code and expressions of God’s affection for us. But life is not found in keeping the Law or in feeling affirmed and valued. When we use the Bible as a means to those ends, we miss the entire point, and we miss life itself!
If we look to the Bible to gain theological knowledge, validate our behavioral patterns, or affirm our bruised psyche, we exchange great glory for just good enough. And “good enough” won’t get us anywhere.
Don’t Miss Jesus!
For the reformers of the 16th-century church, the doctrine of sola scriptura wasn’t just about putting the Bible above the hierarchical structures of a corrupt, gospel-less church. Sola scriptura was about highlighting the source of life in the Scriptures, Jesus Christ.
For Luther, Calvin, Zwingli and other reformers, declaring that Scripture was the chief source of authority for the church was to declare that Christ is the center of the Scriptures and the source of life.
To that end, we must labor to see Jesus in all of Scripture and see his life, death, and resurrection as the source of life for us today. Let me suggest three questions we can ask when reading the Scriptures to keep Jesus central and avoid missing his great glory.
#1 – How does this passage point out my need for Jesus?
Often passages will expose our sin and brokenness. Especially, in reading the Law portions of the Old Testament, we find how deep our shortcomings really are. Yet even in the New Testament, we find over and over again we have “all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).
Bryan Chapell calls this the “Fallen Condition Focus” of every passage. Scripture shows us where we come up short, and in doing so, it shows us our need for life.
#2 – How does this passage show me the way of God’s grace in Jesus?
As each passage reveals our brokenness and sin, so also the Scriptures show us the remedy through Christ. The Old Testament points forward to Christ coming by giving us God’s promises to receive by faith. Scripture teaches how Christ actively won righteousness for us in his perfect life of obedience.
The Bible magnifies salvation through the suffering of the Messiah which we receive by faith. Grace abounds through the Scriptures and, when we look at how the Bible points us to God’s ways of grace, we see all Jesus has accomplished for us.
#3 – How does this passage lead me to love Jesus more and more?
Not only is the Bible a means for us to see Jesus, but it is a means for us to grow in love for Jesus. It shows us our need; it shows us Christ's redemption; it shows us his great grace!
A final question we can ask of the passage we are reading is: How can this text influence my life so that my love for Jesus grows? This is where our steps of faith-filled obedience are taken. We move forward in obedience to the call of Christ as we follow him out of the love he has poured out for us.
The Bible Bring us To Life, It Is Not Life
Much like missing my chance to get an autograph from Mark McGwire, we run through the Scriptures and fail to encounter Jesus as the source of life. We can stack up books about the Bible, memorize verses, develop or adhere to a theological system, and all the while miss the source of life that the Bible points to, Christ.
Instead of believing that Bible knowledge will save us, we should remember the gospel. We are justified by faith alone, in Christ alone, which we see in Scripture alone. The Bible, rightly engaged, brings us to Jesus. Don’t mistake the map for the source.
1. D. A. Carson, The Gospel according to John, The Pillar New Testament Commentary (Leicester, England; Grand Rapids, MI: Inter-Varsity Press; W.B. Eerdmans, 1991), 263.
Jeremy Writebol is the Executive Director of GCD. He is the husband of Stephanie and father of Allison and Ethan. He serves as the lead campus pastor of Woodside Bible Church in Plymouth, MI. He is also an author and contributor to several GCD Books including everPresent and Make, Mature, Multiply. He writes personally at jwritebol.net.
You can read all of Jeremy’s articles here.
4 Weighty Attributes of Scripture
Shortly after getting married and returning from our honeymoon, my new bride and I took a trip to IKEA to furnish our first apartment. It was a sort of kid-in-a-candy-shop experience. The practicality and affordability of their products creates a double threat that makes it no surprise the newlywed IKEA trip is more universal than unique. It’s almost a rite of passage for those of us in the West to celebrate adulthood by bringing their products into our first home. I know our apartment wouldn’t have been complete without them.
In more ways than one, there is a parallel between IKEA and the Reformers of the 16th century. Just as modern technology has made it possible for IKEA to make functional and reliable furniture affordable, the technological advances preceding the Reformation made it possible to put the Bible in the hands of all people. It was the conviction of the Reformers, in the face of opposition from the Church of Rome, that—just like with home decor—no house was complete without a copy of the Scriptures in its own language.
The importance of the Bible for faith and practice in the life of a Christian cannot be understated.
The Scriptures are indispensable for those who would follow Christ, for apart from them we don’t know who he is. They speak with clarity to those who read them in faith with the aid of the Holy Spirit. They are enough to know all that is necessary to be made right with God. Most of all, they are the sole authority God has given to govern his church, the vessel used to dispense his grace in the world.
This pneumonic device, ICEA (how I’d love to add an “N” and make it “NICEA!”)—regardless of its shtick—can help us remember the fourfold attributes of the Bible.
Four Weighty Attributes of Scripture
#1 – Indispensable
One of the many grievances Martin Luther raised with the church of his day was the lack of emphasis on the Pauline doctrine of justification by faith.
By overemphasizing human works, through the sacraments and the sale of indulgences, there was a widespread loss of the means of salvation. Much of mankind, without access to the Scriptures, was being misled to believe that by jumping through hoops of performance laid out by the Roman Catholic Church they would be made right with God and earn salvation.
It was upon reading Romans 1:17—“the just shall live by faith”—that Luther’s eyes were opened to see that the means of salvific grace were not earned but rather received freely by faith. Just how does one respond in faith to God? That too is revealed in the Scriptures:
Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ. – Romans 10:17
Here we see that the Bible is indispensable in matters pertaining to faith. In order to reconcile mankind to himself, God sent Jesus Christ to incur his wrath upon the cross. Jesus then rose from the dead miraculously, exhibiting his victory over sin and death. The mystery of Christ is revealed only through the Scriptures (Eph. 3:3-4).
Without hearing the words of Christ, contained in the Scriptures, mankind is incapable of hearing the gospel and responding in faith. Their importance cannot be understated.
The Reformation’s recovery of the indispensability of Scripture can be visibly seen in worship services today. Whereas the Roman Church places communion at the center of its worship, the preaching of the Bible is the center for those following in the Reformation tradition for: How are they to hear without someone preaching (Rom. 10:14)?
Saying the Scriptures are indispensable, however, isn’t enough. When we start to uncover the mysteries contained within, we might be inclined to think only a professional—a priest or pastor—is capable of comprehending them. But the Scriptures themselves tell us all believers are part of a “royal priesthood” and are called to proclaim (i.e. preach) the excellencies of Christ (1 Pt. 2:9). For this reason, the Scriptures aren’t simply indispensable, but clear.
#2 – Clear
Another key to IKEA’s success may be its instruction manuals which manage to be (mostly) helpful without being confined to the usage of written words. But anyone who’s ever assembled a piece of their furniture knows the frustration that ensues when you can’t comprehend the idea the little cartoon-mime is trying to convey. Praise God this can never be claimed about his Word!
When we say the Bible speaks with clarity on matters pertaining to faith and practice we bring three presuppositions to the table. First, we assume those turning to its pages for wisdom and guidance have trusted in Jesus for salvation and have been born again by his Spirit (Jn. 3:3); for his sheep hear his voice (Jn. 10:27) within its pages.
Second, when we say that Scripture is clear we don’t mean that everything contained within is easily understandable. We simply mean that God’s Word is not cryptic or meant to confuse its readers.
Finally, we do not mean we have the correct insight into the meaning of every sentence of Scripture. Some look at the differences in interpretation between different sects of Christianity as evidence the Bible is unclear and untrustworthy. I maintain that the things of ultimate importance in regards to faith and salvation are free from obscurity and those passages over which there are disputes are not what Paul calls “first importance” (1 Cor. 15:1-4).
After clearing these hurdles, we are left with a Bible that is clear and the only means God has left us with to discover truth about himself. Because the Reformers were convinced of Scripture’s clarity, they fought against a two-tiered Christianity in which only clergy were allowed access to the Word of God. Because Scripture’s clear and accessible to all who have received the Spirit of God, it should be placed in every Christian’s hands.
Here’s a few reasons why:
- For when we have insight into the revelation of God, we cannot be deceived by Satan, even when he is masquerading as a priest of the light (2 Cor. 11:14).
- It is the duty of every Christian to weigh what pastors and preachers teach by the light given in the Bible (Acts 17:11).
- The clarity of the Scriptures give us access to the only weapon (Eph. 6:17) we need for our spiritual battle (Eph. 6:12).
#3 – Enough
While saying that the Scripture is clear and indispensable, we have not yet grasped the totality of its importance. It is possible that by stopping here, we could view it as a good place to start, but later abandon it in search of some further revelation from God. However, Scripture is enough for the Christian life.
The totality of Jesus’s work in securing salvation for sinners is chronicled within the pages of Scripture. Jesus now sits at the right hand of God (Heb. 1:3) because his salvific work is complete (Jn. 19:30). The work now done by the Church is not done to secure salvation; it was already secured by Christ. The Church’s work, empowered by the Holy Spirit, is to spread the good news of what Jesus has already completed on our behalf.
For this reason, we should diligently guard the sufficiency of Scripture. We have all we need in its pages. When this truth is undermined by adding the sacraments to salvation or by lifting tradition or papal decrees to the same level as biblical canon, we must turn back to Scripture to correct false teaching (2 Tim. 3:16).
On the other hand, by saying the Bible is enough we confirm the Reformation mantra “semper reformanda” (“always reforming”). In other words, one of the living Church’s endeavors is not clever innovation, but bringing itself into further alignment with the teaching of Scripture.
The historical innovation of indulgences was to be refuted by Scripture during the reformation, and this same principle guides the Church and protects her purity today when “new” false teachings arise.
Because the Bible is enough, doctrinal novelty should never be sought. When a modern-day preacher or “prophet” presents some teaching that lies outside the clear instruction of Scripture, a Christian is under no obligation to believe or obey it. Scripture is enough, and its teaching is complete.
#4 – Authority
The Reformers believed that the truth claims of Scripture command nothing less than our total obedience. I’ve been careful thus far to avoid using the term “Protestant.” That is because it was not Luther’s intent to protest the Church at Rome, but to bring it into submission to the Word of God. Only after its refusal to hear his appeals, did it become necessary to break away.
As Luther famously stated during his refusal to recant, his “conscience was captive to the Word of God.” It was his conviction, like the Apostle Paul, that God would be true even if every man on Earth were a liar (Rom. 3:4).
One of the blocks that drove the wedge between the Reformers and the Roman Church was the question of Scripture’s authority. It was the fiery conviction of Luther that the Scriptures alone were the final authority on matters of doctrine and faith and stood above papal decrees or tradition.
The Roman Church fired back that the canon of Scripture itself was determined by the Church and couldn’t be separated from tradition. In contrast, the Reformers rightly concluded that the Church did not determine what writings were Scripture but simply recognized the clear voice of God within them (Jn. 10:27).
Peter, reflecting back upon his mountaintop experience with Jesus where he saw Moses, the author of the Law, and Elijah, the chief of the prophets, appear in all their glory, concluded that the Bible was more trustworthy (2 Pt. 1:19). In other words, even the most magnificent miraculous experience pales in comparison to the trustworthy authority of Scripture.
You Can Never Upgrade Scripture
As my wife and I became more financially stable we dispensed with our IKEA furniture, upgrading to something better. We can never do this with Scripture because it’s indispensable for the Christian life. Even the parts that we don’t fully understand now, we one day will have insight into (1 Cor. 13:12).
Sean Nolan (B.S. and M.A., Clarks Summit University) is the Family Life Pastor at Christ Fellowship Church in Forest Hill, Maryland. Prior to that, he served at a church plant in Troy, New York for seven years and taught Hermeneutics to ninth and tenth graders. He is married to Hannah and is raising an army of toddlers. He blogs at Family Life Pastor.
You can read all of Sean’s articles here.
Beating the Prayer Bluff
Can you and I take a moment to get real honest? I know this may come across as hypocritical since I am a Christian and a pastor and I am always sharing churchy exhortations online, but I want to be candid. Many times I have told someone that I would pray for them and I failed to do so. I bet you have done the same.
You have no doubt become the victim, or played the perpetrator, of the “prayer bluff.” Someone expresses their struggle with a circumstance or new issue peeks its head over the horizon, and our mind sends a message to our mouth: blurt out something about praying for them!
It all sounds genuine. But I fear, in my own life and in yours, that “I’ll be praying for you” has become nothing more than a religious platitude.
The Problem With Failing to Pray for Someone
I have felt a bit pessimistic about “I’ll be praying for you" for some time now, but it wasn’t until recently that I discovered its heartlessness. It happened when I was reading Numbers (yes, really).
Throughout the book of Numbers, the Israelites are on their way to Edom under the guidance of God and Moses. They complain. A lot. They take up their complaints with both of these faithful leaders, demanding an answer for why they were escorted to this dreadful wilderness. The food (when they manage to find some) is bland, and there’s no water.
God reacted to their ungratefulness and slander with judgment, sending fiery serpents among them. They came to their senses in repentance, or perhaps they feared the prospect of death. Regardless, here’s what happens next:
And the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned, for we have spoken against the LORD and against you. Pray to the LORD, that he take away the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people. — Numbers 21:7
Here’s the question that came to my mind as I read that: What if he hadn’t? What if Moses heard these pleas from the people and said, “Okay, I’ll pray for you,” then didn’t, and just went about his business? Wouldn’t we call Moses unloving? Lazy? Cruel?
Last I checked, none of us are asking others to pray for our deliverance from fiery serpents. But what does it say of us when we promise our neighbor to come before the Lord in prayer, forsaking our own selves for their sake, only to not follow through? Is this what it means to love one's neighbor?
We can beat the prayer bluff. There are three shifts we can make when it comes to being constant in prayer for those around us.
#1 – Believe your prayers matter to God
We would pray more if we believed our prayers mattered. At times, our confession of God’s sovereignty can mess with our thoughts on human responsibility. The truth is, a sovereign God doesn’t undermine the need for prayer; it intensifies it.
Only a sovereign God could do something with the prayers we offer Him. This should compel us all the more to pray, especially for those in need.
What’s amazing about Moses’s decision to truly pray for the Israelites is that it made a difference on their behalf:
And the LORD said to Moses, “Make a fiery serpent and set it on a pole, and everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live.” So Moses made a bronze serpent and set it on a pole. And if a serpent bit anyone, he would look at the bronze serpent and live. — Numbers 21:8-9
This does not mean that every time we make our requests known to God that it is bound to happen the way we expect it to. For example, God may not end up bringing healing to a physical sickness. Yet in our very act of earnest prayer, our faith is strengthened. Our hope in Christ’s return is renewed. Our love for another is expressed.
For at least those reasons, our prayers always matter, regardless of the outcome. When we begin to truly believe that our prayers mean something, we will begin to take the weight of “I’ll be praying for you” more seriously.
#2 – Pray in the moment
I know how convenient and tidy it is to notify someone you will be in prayer for them and be able to walk away. Instead of getting our hands dirty in prayer, we often go for the hand sanitizer (“I’ll pray for you”) and call it a day. But the road to Christlikeness is not spotless or expedient. Neither are relationships with one another, whether spouse, friend, or stranger. Rather than offering what is often a trite, meaningless response to one in need, what if we began to make a shift to, “Can I pray for you right now?”
I’ve heard many stories of people approached with this simple question who were brought to tears that someone would actually do this for them, in the moment. I have been a part of it myself, on both the giving and receiving ends. When I see with my own eyes that someone is no longer bluffing, but is actually laying their cards down to pray for me, I feel loved. I feel safe. I feel God’s comfort. You don’t have to offer a professional prayer with fancy words and Scripture meditations; only offer an authentic, heart-felt cry to God. It does wonders for them, and for you.
#3 – Make a list, then follow up
There are some who are tried and true people of prayer. They know their prayers matter, and they take initiative in praying in the moment with others. The rest of us need a strategy. Perhaps a final area we can continue to grow in is following up with those whom we have prayed for. It’s as simple as making a list. Maybe it’s that I’m a one-thing-at-a-time kind of guy, but I cannot bring myself to remember to pray for the seventeen people I know need it. I do better with reminders in front of me that are tangible.
There are many ways you can do this. Next time you go around the circle in small group with prayer requests, take time to write names and requests. Refer to this list throughout the week. Simple. For the more tech-inclined, put names or requests into an app or reminders list on your phone, even prompting yourself by using notifications. Discipline yourself to not take prayer for others with a grain of salt. And, most importantly, pray for them.
Take it a step further and reach out to those people after some time has passed to follow up. One of the most joyful feelings as a human is to be reminded that we have not been forgotten.
I’m glad Moses prayed for the Israelites that hot day in the wilderness. I’m also thankful when people pull me aside to offer words of life to me when I feel like I’m traversing my own wilderness. Let’s not think of Paul’s recommendation to “be constant in prayer” (Rom 12:12) as a dated, unrealistic expectation.
It’s simple: prayer matters, and so do people.
Zach Barnhart currently serves as Student Pastor of Northlake Church in Lago Vista, TX. He holds a Bachelor of Science from Middle Tennessee State University, and is currently studying at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, seeking a Master of Theological Studies degree. He is married to his wife, Hannah. You can follow Zach on Twitter @zachbarnhart or check out his personal blog, Cultivated.
The Gospel in the Daily Grind
The sound of the rainforest drew me out of my sleep. It was actually a synthetic sound coming from an app on my smartphone. It’s supposed to slowly wake you up so that you don’t crash out of your sleep cycle into the daily grind. More gradual, less tired supposedly. At 5:20 a.m., I was always tired. I don’t how I survived that year without drinking coffee. I’d scrounge a quick bite to eat then zombie walk into the shower and get ready in the dark as my family continued their sleep.
Off to work. Eight hours of monotony. I answered phone calls and fixed broken technology. I repeated stock phrases thirty plus times a day. I’d try to make connections with people I never saw. I had worked in that kind of call center environment for eleven years.
For the first few years, I struggled finding value in my seemingly mundane tasks. If I’m honest, I loathed going to work a lot of days. I know I’m not alone because life in a call center creates camaraderie, and I’ve talked to countless people who share these feelings in and out of my industry. But then something clicked for me — something that gave me meaning in the mundane daily grind.
Jesus Works
The gospel starts from the very first pages of the Scripture. That truth changes the way you and I work in the marketplace and worship in the mundane of everyday life.
Most churches talk very little about work. They start their gospel presentation with the fall: “We are rotten to the core and in need of redemption” (Gen 3). If they do touch Genesis 1 and 2, it’s usually to discuss creation and evolution. We treat “in the beginning” as if Jesus wasn’t around yet. We function as modalists.
Paul tells a different story,
For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities–all things were created through him and for him. – Colossians 1:16
John tells the same story,
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. – John 1:1-5
This thread of Christological creation isn’t some gnostic truth. Paul elsewhere says we were “chose . . . in him before the foundation of the world” (Eph 1:4) and John calls Jesus, “the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world (Rev 13:8 KJV). Matthew reports Jesus’s words, “Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Matt 25:34). Peter says, Jesus “was foreknown before the foundation of the world” (1 Pt 1:20). Paul admonishes the Corinthians, “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ’” (2 Cor 4:6).
From the first words of Scripture “In the beginning, God” to the final curse of Revelation, the Holy Spirit shines a spotlight on the work of Jesus Christ. He isn’t hidden. And finding Jesus in the beginning completely transforms our understanding of the original creative mandate and propels our purpose in working.
Working with Purpose
First, Scripture teaches Jesus actively works from before the foundation of the world and in the world now. He is choosing, creating, and founding. He is holding all things together. He is advocating for us on his throne. When he creates man, it’s no surprise he says, “‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion . . . . ’ And God said to ‘Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion’” (Gen 1:26, 28). Part of our createdness, built in the very fabric of who we are as humans made in God’s image, is the necessity of dominion and work.
God works. We work. Jesus creates. We create. We are sub-creators to his divine creative masterpiece, but we still image God when we work. We have intrinsic value in our work because it’s connected with who God made us to be. Part of Adam’s task was tending the garden and naming animals. Talk about mundane and routine, but, before the fall, Adam obeyed God and worked as his ambassador and found meaning in doing so. When we work in the workplace, we are also obeying this creative instinct to image God. Jesus Christ is the perfect image of God and the prototype of glorified humanity. We see that image clearly when we follow his lead in working.
Second, Scripture teaches this image of God is found in every human equally. In The Weight of Glory, C. S. Lewis says,
It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. . . . There are no ordinary people.
This fundamentally changes the way we work and the way we treat others who we work with and who may do jobs we might be tempted to turn our nose down at.
Each of those people when working and doing their job with excellence are, even if dimly, reflecting the original image of God. They are not ordinary. They are humans who were made very good. For those who lay hold of the promises found in Jesus Christ and believe, this image is even more visible (“transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another,” as Paul says). We should appreciate and encourage those who work skillfully. We should remind each other we are a picture of Jesus Christ who works. He has been working from the beginning and will not stop working until he’s brought us all the way home.
Fourth, Scripture teaches our work now images of the work of Jesus Christ on our behalf. As noted earlier, the Holy Spirit inspired many allusions and direct references to creation and many of these directly point us to our spiritual redemption. The image of light and darkness is found throughout the Gospel of John. John also talks about the new birth (John 3). Paul in 2 Corinthians 4 compares God’s original divine fiat with his raising us from death to life. He says, “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ’” (2 Cor 4:6). As we work, we must not forget Christ’s work for us. It’s a daily gospel reminder in the daily grind of our work.
Fifth, Scripture teaches we please God. Jesus’s ministry starts with his baptism and God the Father proclaiming, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased” (Matt 3:17). When regenerated by the Spirit, chosen by the Father, and redeemed by Jesus, we are united to Jesus Christ. All the promises and blessings found in him are ours. Jesus pleases the Father and so we please the Father. A robust understanding of common grace, also, suggests when we work well and create excellently it pleases him in as far we reflect his image well. This work isn’t salvific in any way, but it’s valuable nonetheless.
One of my favorite quotes comes from the movie Chariots of Fire. Eric Liddell, an Olympic runner, says, “God made me fast. And when I run, I feel his pleasure.” Meditate on that truth when your alarm wakes you up in the morning or when you repeat the same task for the hundredth time at your job remind yourself: “God delights in me when I work.” Feel his pleasure. Repeat, “When I ______, I feel his pleasure.” That’s not an insignificant truth.
Finally, Scripture teaches work will not always be laborious. Before the fall, the creation didn’t war against us as we created, tended, and worked. After the fall, God curses the ground and work becomes difficult. Paul says, “the whole creation has been groaning” as it waits for its full redemption (Rom 8:22). We are waiting for the new heavens and new earth—when God will makes all things right. We will be glorified and the earth will be redeemed from its sorrows. The reality of our ultimate rest in Jesus Christ doesn’t remove work. Jesus redeems work. The end of the story is an earthy ending. We live on the new earth in his eternal kingdom and worship God in all we do (Matt 5:5, 25:34).
We struggle now in the daily grind of the dirty now and now, but we look forward to the redeemed not yet of the new creation. So work well now. Struggle. Labor. Toil. Create. Do it all with excellence, purpose, and hope. But find rest in Jesus Christ in the not yet, while eagerly longing for the redemption of our bodies and this world. He will return and he will make all things new.
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!
4 Questions and Answers to Understand God’s Calling
If your heart has been gripped by the gospel, sooner or later you'll find yourself asking, "Where is God calling me to go?" That’s a normal question, because the gospel that saves is also the gospel that sends. That doesn’t make it an easy question, though, because it creates all kinds of follow-up questions. Does God want me to go overseas? Does He want me to quit my job and work for a ministry? Or does He want me to stay where I am when I thought it was clear I had to go?
The Apostle Paul knew that he was God's chosen instrument to reach the Gentiles, so he knew he would be going where the Gentiles were. Peter knew he was called to lead the church in Jerusalem, so he knew he would be going across the street and into his neighborhood. But that kind of clarity isn't the norm, either today or throughout the Bible.
More often, we are left with quite a bit of freedom for adhering to God's commands. While that freedom can be a relief, it can also cause incredible stress as we seek to live out God's will for our lives. We can get lost in our heads, playing out every possible scenario, and wind up paralyzed, not taking any steps toward going and making disciples.
If that's you, here are four questions and answers that might help you understand where God is calling you.
Four Questions to Help You Understand Where God Is Calling You
#1 – What did Jesus come to do?
Answer: To seek and save the lost.
When Jesus went to eat at the home of Zacchaeus, a chief tax collector, the religious people of the day scoffed, saying, "He has gone to be the guest of a sinner."
They were correct. That's precisely what Jesus was doing, because that's precisely why he came to Earth to begin with.
After Zacchaeus repents and is saved, Jesus provides a retort to the snide religious peanut gallery, telling them why he hung out with people like tax collectors. In perhaps the most glorious phrase ever uttered, Jesus, the God-man, said, "For the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost" (Luke 19:10).
If Jesus had a vision statement, this was it. He came to seek and save the lost. That meant he was going to spend a disproportionate amount of his time and energy around people who didn't know anything about him. He would be going out among the lost to seek and save those who were without hope.
That's exactly what Jesus did throughout his ministry. And it's what you will do if you want to go where God has called you.
But what about today? How does Jesus seek and save the lost now that he's in heaven? That leads us to our second question.
#2 – How does Jesus seek and save the lost?
Answer: By sending us out as sheep among wolves.
We have one really good look at what it was like when Jesus sent out his disciples for ministry. It's recorded in Luke 10 where we see Jesus' instructions to 72 of his followers as he prepared them to go out on mission.
One of the most interesting things Jesus says here is that he is sending his disciples out like sheep among wolves (Luke 10:3). Have you ever thought about that? When a sheep fights a wolf, the sheep doesn't come out on top.
This is a sobering picture of what life on mission is like. Those who would follow Jesus and witness for his name are not promised a comfortable life (in fact, they're promised the opposite; see Luke 9:57-58). More specifically, this means that if we're really going to live the way Jesus calls us to, we'll live our lives among the wolves (the lost).
But before you think this is a recipe for being miserable, consider that when the 72 came back from the mission field they were ecstatic with what they saw God do. Yes, it was hard and exhausting and scary, but they saw God move in ways they never would have if they stayed among the sheep (believers). The same principle is true today.
We can spend our time among the sheep and still know God. But if we want to experience all that Jesus offers we have to live among the wolves. If you want to go where God has called you, there's no doubt that it involves a significant amount of time among wolves.
#3 – What are we supposed to do when we live among the wolves?
Answer: Go and make disciples, baptize them, and teach them to obey everything Jesus commanded us.
Imagine seeing someone you love at their funeral, then being lowered into the ground at their grave. Now imagine that same person walked up to you on the street a few days later and had something to tell you. Whatever they had to say, you would listen. They were dead, but now they’re living. That gives their words authority.
This is the exact setting in which Jesus gives his disciples the Great Commission. He had been stripped, tortured, beaten, and murdered on the cross. His disciples knew he was then carried to an empty tomb with a Roman guard placed out front. . We know the importance of the Great Commission in Matthew 28:18-20, but miss how critical the beginning of verse 18 is:
“And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.’”
Jesus, the dead guy they had seen crushed and buried before their eyes, was now standing in front of them. That’s why Jesus leads his commission with the crowning authority he now possessed. The guy that conquered death has something to say, so it’s time for his disciples to listen.
What does he tell them?
"Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:10-20 ESV)
Here we have Jesus' last words, his last instructions for how to continue what he started. It was simple. Go all over the world; as you go, make disciples; then baptize them and teach them to obey all of Jesus's commands. That may sound simple, but it affects everything in a follower's life.
This command is for every follower of Christ. It is the primary thing each disciple is called to, before their career or anything else. It's not optional. It's not something some of us are called to and others of us aren't. First and foremost, we are disciples of Jesus of who make disciples of Jesus.
That's why the primary question associated with our purpose in life isn't what we are supposed to do, but where we are supposed to do it. The Great Commission makes it clear the “what” is make disciples. The only question, then, is where do we go to do that?
#4 – Where do we go?
Answer: To Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.
Acts 1:8 gives us another glimpse at Jesus' final words. Here we see Jesus giving specific instructions about where his disciples are to go once he takes his seat at the Father's right hand. The disciples already knew they were to make disciples, but now Jesus tells them where to go:
"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” (Acts 1:8 ESV)
Jesus is sending his followers to Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. No corner of the world is outside of the Great Commission. Starting right where they were (Jerusalem), Jesus sent them out to continue spreading the Kingdom of God.
Jerusalem, Judea, and Samaria are real places, and Jesus was actually sending them there. But beyond their importance at that time, those locations remain significant because they help us see where Jesus is sending us today.
Notice the progression. First, Jesus sends them across the street into Jerusalem. Next, he sends them to a place with a similar culture by sending them to Judea. Then, Jesus really ups the ante by sending them to a culture most of them would have hated — Samaria (Remember how culturally explosive Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan was?). If that wasn't enough, Jesus then sends them to the very ends of the earth.
This variety means that Jesus' disciples could obey his Great Commission by going to any of those locations, and the same is true today. As Ruth Ripken says, "Serving God is not a matter of location. It's a matter of obedience."
We don't all have to go overseas, though more of us should than are open to it. If we don't go to another country, we are commanded to go across the street (Jerusalem), to the community next door (Judea), or to the people we would never think to associate with before coming to Jesus (Samaria).
That leaves you with only one more question.
Where will you go?
Will you go across the street and tell your neighbors about Jesus? Will you go into the largest city near you to witness to the gospel? Will you build relationships with the refugees and immigrants that came to your community from unreached people groups around the world? Will you go to one of the 2.8 billion unreached peoples around the world?
The possibilities are limitless, but the mission is the same: go into all the world and make disciples of Jesus Christ.
Where will you go?
Grayson Pope is a husband and father of three. He serves as Pastor of Community at his church in Charlotte, NC and is currently pursuing a MACS at The Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. Grayson’s Passion is to equip believers for everyday discipleship to Jesus.
Absorbed
But even in the much-publicized rebellion of the young against the materialism of the affluent society, the consumer mentality is too often still intact: the standards of behavior are still those of kind and quantity, the security sought is still the security of numbers, and the chief motive is still the consumer’s anxiety that he is missing out on what is “in.”
Wendell Berry, The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays
Of the many discussions I’ve had with people about comfort addiction, most inevitably land in what Wendell Berry calls the consumer mentality. While comfort in the form of emotional distance (chapter three) or everyday egomania (chapter two) may be easier to hide, comfort in the form of lifestyle choices is rather obvious. Identifying the materialistic among us is easy enough. It’s always someone whose lifestyle is more expansive than our own. At least that’s what I’ve always thought. Which may be why I once fancied myself part of the youthful rebellion Berry speaks of. The standard I had raised to measure materialism placed me well under the judgment bar.
Still, the what am I doing question prodded me over the years, inquiring about actions and motives I had excused in myself. Consumer mentality was alive and well in me, lurking beneath the surface of my life pursuits.
Awareness (and admission) of my consumer mentality was yet another result of The Shredding. The living conditions I saw in India reframed my previous definition of a normal life. I was forced to acknowledge the truth about my normal and the sort of life I was able to live. In light of that truth, I could see materialism as an iceberg of Majority World society: the tip you see is nothing compared to the girth below the surface. Even the rebellious youth who aren’t obviously materialistic are yet driven by an unseen force to seek comfort through consumption and maintaining the illusion of relevancy. None of us is immune.
Why are we so driven to consume and achieve? I think it’s because egomania and emotional numbness cannot provide the sort of lasting comfort we crave. When they don’t satisfy, but comfort addiction encourages us to feast on the opportunities before us to have, be, get, and pursue more. And here in the United States? There is always more to be had. Our society produces new ways to be “in” every day.
The painful truth is that I have been way too consumed by the consuming I do. That sort of addiction busies me with tending to the unholy trinity of me, myself, and I. That’s why in this third detox stage we need to put down our self-made measuring sticks. Becoming aware of the motives and values lurking below the surface is necessary if we are to find the true comfort our hearts crave.
THE DREAMER IN ALL OF US
The invitation was a surprise. A couple Mike and I knew only casually invited us over for a visit. Because it was one of the first social invites we had received after getting married, it felt significant. I tried to muster all the maturity I could from my insecure, recently married, twenty-year-old self.
Upon arriving we were welcomed into a cozy family room with overstuffed couches, where a few others were already seated. Greetings were extended. Refreshments were offered. And then a more formal introduction began for a man seated near a paper flip board. That’s when I realized the evening had some sort of agenda. In a flash I concocted a whole theory: Maybe they are Christians! We will get to bond over shared faith! They are going to share the gospel!
Icebreaker-like questions ensued. “What are your favorite things to do, outside of work? If you could travel anywhere, where would you go? Do you like to collect things? What do you like to buy when you have extra money to spend? What sort of car do you dream about owning?” It was easy, energetic conversation. It felt a bit like making a Christmas list, something I had not done in years. Sharing these preferences was fun, and to be honest, my heart was all in. I was starting to dream about things and experiences. I figured that after we shared our answers the discussion would transition to finding true meaning and purpose through Jesus Christ.
I cannot explain my disappointment when the discussion leader promised that all our dreams were indeed possible. Not because Jesus had something greater for us, but because this guy was extending an exclusive invitation for us to get in on the ground level of an exciting and fast-growing business opportunity (AKA multilevel marketing). This was not about the gospel.
We did not accept the exclusive invitation that night. Looking back, I’m amused by my naive evangelism theory. But something else has stuck with me that isn’t as amusing: my ability to join the chorus of voices proclaiming all the stuff I want. Wanting things is not inherently wrong. Giving voice to our preferences is not wrong. Dreaming about what could be is not wrong. The bothersome part is how easy it was to conflate worldly based dreams with gospel hope. How could icebreaker questions about hopes and dreams lead to either the best news humanity has ever heard or the opportunity to join an MLM team?
Part of that answer lies in the very foundation of our society. At the birth of the United States, the founding fathers constructed a framework for our country’s values and pursuits. The Declaration of Independence states, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
The pursuit of happiness is part and parcel to being an American. Comfortable living has been all but promised, since being unhappy is anything but comfortable. For centuries now people have equated the United States with the place where dreams come true. It’s where you are free to work hard, increase your wealth, and enjoy the good life. We call it the American dream.
The phrase “the American dream” was first used in James Truslow Adams’s 1931 book, The Epic of America. Adams says it’s “that dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for every man, with opportunity for each according to his ability or achievement.” Part of what makes the United States unique is the freedom—theoretically open to every individual—to obtain a better, richer, fuller life.
More than eighty years later, talk of the American dream is still going strong (especially during election season). Although definitions vary by person, a core component of the American dream is wealth, as confirmed by a September 2015 article in TheAtlantic titled “Who Still Believes in the American Dream?” A reporter traveled the country asking people to share what the American dream meant to them. When kids were asked, they gushed about future happiness rooted in fame, glory, and fortune. The adults responded with much less enthusiasm. Many were discouraged by the lack of opportunity they had for achieving their dreams; few were hopeful for the life Adams described back in the 1930s.
Since the American dream has always been connected with prosperity, we have tied our happiness to our ability to collect material possessions and immaterial opportunities. It’s no wonder people are disillusioned and discouraged.
ALL IS VANITY
Despite the broken promises of the American dream, our society still runs on that founding premise. We adhere to its values of working hard and striving for more. We do this by participating in the agreed-on system: work, play, eat, sleep. Get a better job. Get a better house. Get better clothes. Get better gadgets. Then repeat. And repeat, and repeat again. The system tells us happiness increases as our creature comforts grow. Pseudo comforts beckon us to seek more of what we already have, because more is always better.
It takes a strong soul to stop the madness and call the futile cycle to the carpet. That’s exactly what Solomon did almost three thousand years ago. As the son of the most accomplished king on record, Solomon had everything—wealth, intelligence, and people. But the book of Ecclesiastes records the comfort his heart longed for:
Smoke, nothing but smoke. . . . There’s nothing to anything—it’s all smoke. What’s there to show for a lifetime of work, a lifetime of working your fingers to the bone? One generation goes its way, the next one arrives, but nothing changes. . . . There’s nothing new on this earth. Year after year it’s the same old thing. . . . Nobody remembers what happened yesterday. And the things that will happen tomorrow? Nobody’ll remember them either. Don’t count on being remembered. (Eccles 1:2-11 The Message)
Every time I read these words my chest tightens a bit. Solomon’s hopelessness is so complete, so brutal. All our attempts to achieve something meaningful result in nothing substantial. We gain no ground. The comfort we seek in life—at least, the kind that’s easy to get—is fleeting at best.
Eugene Peterson’s rendition of Solomon’s lament uses the phrase “Smoke, nothing but smoke” to signify the evanescent nature of life’s pursuits. Traditional Bible versions have, “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity”—which I prefer, actually. Vanity has a weight of loss connected to it. A note in the ESV Bible explains, “The Hebrew term hebel, translated vanity or vain, refers concretely to a ‘mist,’ ‘vapor,’ or ‘mere breath,’ and metaphorically to something that is fleeting or elusive.” Vanity is what our hearts can sense when everything we are pursuing and consuming in life leaves us empty. Vanity is the fear that pounces when we are bored, unsure of what we should be doing with ourselves. The Question tries to jolt us out of vain pursuits, out of the consumerist cycle that leaves us empty despite all the filling.
Although Solomon wasn’t an American, his lament is fitting for those of us caught in the American dream today. We work hard to gain more. We follow our tired routines every single day. We look for amusement to stave off boredom. We seek power, status, riches, and accomplishments to quiet The Question, for if it lingers, we will face the same despair as Solomon: life is nothing but vanity.
But face this truth we must, if we are to rebel against the false comforts that have been on the prowl for centuries. The ones that Solomon denounced are the same ones we must denounce today.
Erin Straza is a contemplative writer, heartfelt speaker, and redeemed dreamer. She is managing editor of Christ and Pop Culture Magazine and host of the Persuasion podcast. As a freelance communications consultant, Erin helps organizations tell their stories in authentic and compelling ways. She lives in Illinois with her husband, Mike.
Taken from Comfort Detox by Erin M. Straza. Copyright (c) 2017 by Erin Straza. Used by permission of InterVarsity Press, P.O. Box 1400, Downers Grove, IL 60515-1426. www.ivpress.com
On Fire, But Not Consumed
The air is sticky right now in my home state, but I am already dreaming of fall, still months away. I am more than happy to skip over the heat, humidity and general mugginess of summer, and head straight for the crisp air, sweaters, and bonfires of autumn. If I could find a place on Earth where it was perpetually fall and all that goes with it, including Saturdays spent watching college football and the smell of hot apple cider, I would move there in an instant. It is perhaps, though, the changing of the leaves, like a changing of the guard, which summons the return of fall and reminds me why I love the season. Trees formerly a monochromatic green suddenly seem to burst into flames. Deep reds. Vivid yellows. Vibrant oranges.
As those hues shift, I have spent many an autumn whispering to myself, shaking my head somewhat in disbelief, "I swear, it is like they are on fire."
I fall into a trance, just staring, captured by this involuntary thought, followed by a moment of wonder, trying to memorize the colors on the leaves, marveling at the rich hues, wanting to linger in the moment.
While these leaves are the tell-tale sign of yet another season passing, I have often found myself in seasons of life wanting to pull a Heisman-like move and keep God at arm's length. It seems easier, safer that way.
Jennie Allen wrote in her book Anything about how she began praying the prayer, "Anything you have for me, God. I'll say yes to anything."
The book sat on the floor by my recliner for the longest time and I quietly kept avoiding it. I did not want to be confronted by such challenging words and such prayers. Because, quite frankly, I know I am not always willing to pray anything. Far too risky.
What if I am not ready for anything? What if God hands me anything and I fail miserably? What if everything spins out of control? And what if I no longer get to call the shots?
So at arm’s length he stays, as if I have control over God somehow. Isn’t it crazy the things we delude ourselves into believing, these warped and out-of-whack concepts of who God is?
Every time I see the leaves of fall, and see the colors bursting forth, I am reminded of Moses at the burning bush, found in Exodus 3:1-3:
Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.” (emphasis mine)
Far too often in our pursuit of God, we want to be just like that burning bush—on fire, but not consumed. We want the flames and we want to feel his heat, but not so strong that we find ourselves disappearing altogether in the blaze. We like to keep self intact, don’t we? We want to hold self close, making sure everything is manageable, tidy, orderly, just the way we like it.
That is what I find myself foolishly and selfishly wanting—to be on fire, but not consumed.
I want just enough of Jesus, to get just close enough to Him that I might look a little bit different — a little less impatient, a little more loving. I want to be a little less arrogant and a little more humble. I want to be a little less lazy, and a little more disciplined. I want to get just close enough to sound good and godly and holy.
But maybe—just maybe—when I am honest with myself and others, deep down I realize I do not truly want all of him. Because all of Him might require anything of me. And that feels terrifying.
As I stood staring at the trees one fall, I began thinking to myself, "You may want to be like the burning bush, on fire, but not consumed. But the reality is that God is an all-consuming fire. You don't get to be near him and not be consumed by him."
It simply does not work that way. You want to know him? You want more of him? You want his Word and his Spirit to change you? You want to look more like him? That requires you to be close to him. And being close to him means he consumes you. You—the foolish and selfish version of you—has to be consumed in the fire if you are ever to truly meet the God of the Burning Bush.
"For our God is a consuming fire," Hebrews 12:29 says.
Consuming. Not the kind of fire you warm your hands over; not the kind of fire you melt s'mores with; and not the kind of fire we all crave to keep us cozy in the depths of winter.
Those kinds of fires are safe within the confines of fireplaces and fire pits. Thoses kind of fires have boundaries and are easily manageable. But I am not talking about those kinds of fires.
I am talking the kind of fire that purges the dross, melts the mountains like wax, annihilates sin, and is meant to make you more like his Son. God is that kind of fire.
You do not want to be consumed? Then stay far, far away from him.
But maybe being consumed by the flames is exactly what we—what I—need more than anything. Maybe setting self ablaze is what we need most. Maybe letting God strike a match to our hearts and throwing gas on the flames is what we should long for. And maybe we will find on the other side of those flames a God who whispers through the blaze, "I was with you all along.”
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior; I give Egypt for your ransom, Cush and Seba in your stead. Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life. Do not be afraid, for I am with you — Isaiah 43:1-5 (emphasis mine)
Courtney Yantes spends her days as an event planner, coordinating events and conferences designed to inspire change and promote access for people with disabilities. She graduated from William Woods University with a bachelor’s degree in history and a master’s in business administration. She enjoys blogging, traveling, and generally organizing anything she can get her hands on. She is a lover of all things Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and relishes a life free of social media accounts.
From One Young Gun to Another
About five years ago I landed a dream job. Fresh out of seminary and with barely any experience, I became the Assimilation Pastor at a church with more than 1,300 weekly attendees. I was way out of my league. Seminary did a great job teaching me theology and exegesis, but I was vastly unprepared for a host of other responsibilities. I had to manage difficult personalities, tell people “no” when their ideas conflicted with the vision and mission of the church, develop elaborate processes for ministry involvement, and delegate key ministry roles. Now I’m starting over. As the senior pastor of a 200 year-old Presbyterian church facing issues of relocation and revitalization, I am facing a whole new set of issues for which I feel vastly unprepared.
Maybe you find yourself in a similar situation. Maybe you are realizing seminary only did half the job you thought it did. Or maybe your new ministry position is more complex than you ever imagined. God taught me some incredible lessons five years ago, and I’m re-visiting them again. Here are six things I’ve learned that helped me keep my head above water, and even begin to thrive.
#1 – Be a student of your surroundings
There’s a scene in Maverick where Mel Gibson promises to lose at poker for one hour. Why? An hour is a long time. What is he doing? He’s observing the other players. Who has an obvious tell? Who likes to bluff? Where can he gain an advantage? Mel Gibson is learning everything he can in that hour: He’s being a student of his surroundings.
In the same way you study a map before a road trip or let your eyes adjust to a dimly-lit room before walking in, you’ve got to take the time to study your surroundings. Unfamiliar territory requires some degree of familiarity before action. Do your best Maverick impression and spend time studying your surroundings.
I’ve been at my present church for just over four weeks, and already I’ve been asked a dozen times, “How are we going to grow the church? What is our vision? Our mission?” It has taken great discipline, but each time I’ve answered, “Give me six months.” Why? I once heard John Bryson say, “Guys never wish they had planted a church sooner, and they always wish they had waited longer.” In the same way, you’ll never regret learning too much context about your church and your community before you begin to implement a plan of action.
Learn the people. Learn the community. Learn the church. Study your context. Don’t jump into action, but take time to learn the rhythms of where you are. Don’t delay action forever, but, if you’ve done your homework, when it is time to act you’ll be more prepared to interact with your people in a healthy way.
#2 – Rely on relationships
Before you can sell somebody on a solution, you have to sell them on the problem. And before you can sell somebody on the problem, you have to give them a reason to listen to you.
In my previous church I was hired to help small groups play a more central role in the life of our church—to engage believers in spiritual formation beyond Sunday morning. Before I could do that, however, I needed help our people understand why that engagement was necessary. During my first three months in that new role, my wife and I had over 60 people to our home for dinner. Why? We were building relationships; getting to know the folks I’d be leading, and letting them get to know us. As time wore on, I continued to spend time with leaders and new faces over breakfast, lunch, and coffee. That time was invaluable, and relational capital is an investment you will never regret.
When we left our previous church we experienced the fruit of our relational investment. Our final Sunday was similar to Paul’s farewell to the Ephesian elders in Acts 20:36-37—tear-filled embraces let us know we hadn’t merely implemented ministry programs, but had cultivated relationships and impacted lives.
#3 – Be particular with the process
Anybody can cast vision but saying something louder and more often isn’t going to affect change. What are the processes that will move your people from seeing the vision to living the vision? Put those processes in place, and then patiently shepherd your people through them.
Don’t plan a new evangelism initiative or offer a children’s ministry program as standalone events. How can you integrate them into other activities to achieve greater strategic impact? Consider a sermon series through the book of Acts and write small group curriculum to help your people realize their place in the Great Commission. Train your small group leaders to help their groups identify their own personal “Jerusalem, Judea, and Samaria.” Then, consider a “reverse offering” in which you give each small group a small budget to host a neighborhood barbecue or community VBS. Don’t just cast vision, but walk with your people and help them take the necessary steps in actualizing that vision.
Vision inspires change. Processes facilitate change. Habits sustain change.
Your vision will inspire your people, but it is incumbent upon you to establish the processes necessary to making that vision actionable, thereby helping form the habits to sustain that action.
#4 – Leverage the LOOGYs
In baseball, a LOOGY is a Left-Handed, One-Out Guy—a relief pitcher who only has one job: to come into the ballgame and get one out.
In your church there are a lot of LOOGYs who don’t know they are LOOGYs, and as a result they are going to give you a lot of advice on a lot of things. Don’t write them off. Instead, leverage them. Find their sweet spot and plug them in. Chances are they can be a boon to your ministry. Help them find their place and partner with them.
Maybe you’ve got somebody who is exceedingly organized and really wants to help lead a small group, but they can’t teach. They’d probably do a great job at follow-up. Perhaps someone always gives you new ideas for new ministries, but doesn’t have the ability to see them through. Ask them to pray for ministries the church is currently doing. You’ve got someone who is eager to help with your Sunday morning hospitality ministry, but you haven’t see them smile in five years. They’d do a great job emailing your first-time guests and keeping track of your new members. Find a way to leverage the gifts your people do have in a way that channels their passion for the health of your church.
#5 – Favor feedback
Feedback is crucial. You have to know if the processes you’ve put in place are achieving the goals you’ve established. So ask questions. Be objective. Invite criticism. Be humble and listen. Not every piece of feedback will be accurate or helpful, but it will start you thinking outside of the box.
A friend once told me, “We allow everybody to see us with our clothes on, we allow those we know well to see us in our bathing suits, and we allow our spouses to see us naked. As pastors we must have trusted companions who see us and know us to varying degrees of intimacy and vulnerability.” With degrees of appropriateness, seek out those with whom you can be vulnerable and transparent.
Proverbs 27:5-6 reads, “Better is open rebuke than hidden love. Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy.” Ask the Lord to give you a heart willing to receive wounds from a friend, then seek out friends who will wound you in love. Cultivate this type of atmosphere among your staff. Model how to receive criticism well. Publically thank brothers and sisters who are honest with you.
Inviting criticism is frightening—there’s no doubt about it. Approach brothers and sisters you love, establish a framework for feedback, and trust the Lord to bear fruit in your soul.
#6 – Have joy in Jesus
Ministry should be fun, so love what you do! In certain seasons this won’t always be easy. In those tough times, hold fast to the Word of life and shine like a light in the world. Strive to proclaim with Paul, “Even if I am to be poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all,” (Philippians 2:17). When this is your heart’s disposition and your internal compass, those with whom and to whom you minister will rejoice along with you.
Rejoice in your relationship with the Lord and let that joy spill into every facet of your life. Your spouse, your kids, your friends, your co-workers, and those you minister to should all sense your passion for Jesus and your love for them. Devour the Word of God, cultivate sensitivity to the Spirit’s leading, commune with Lord in prayer, and never lose sight of the cross.
Chris is husband to Liz and daddy to Aletheia, Judah, and Evangeline. Chris is senior pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Reading, Pa and has a PhD in Organizational Leadership. Chris is happy to be back living in the north after five hot years in South Carolina.
What Does Hollywood Have to Do with Calvary?
What’s your all-time favorite movie? Think of just one. Why do you love that movie? I’ve asked that question of thousands of teenagers and college students over the years. Young people love movies, after all (so do I). I get all kinds of examples, from action movies (think The Avengers or Star Wars), to great epic tales (Lord of the Rings), or romantic comedies. We love movies and the stories they tell. What if I told you the very reason novels grip us and movies move us is directly related to the grand gospel story of the Bible? We live in a world that has lost the story of the Bible (and many in the church have as well). I have found explaining the gospel story helps unbelievers to see the big picture of God’s salvation, but it does more: it encourages believers to share this great story with others. Missionaries overseas have done this a long time with people who don’t know the Word. We tend to put the gospel in such overtly religious and ecclesiastical categories many lost people don’t see its beauty and wonder.
Stories follow plotlines. I want to review three popular storylines for you. We see these in books and film again and again, each told with its own nuances.
1. Man falls in a hole.
This storyline (often called Overcoming the Monster) starts off with the main character doing well, but he falls in a hole of some sort, that is, he gets into a predicament, he has some evil thing or person cause him distress, or he finds himself in some other version of calamity. He cannot save himself, so ultimately a rescuer comes to get him out of the hole and back to well-being. Think of the Die Hard movies, any of the Marvel films, or any other action adventure film. We love stories that depict the evil and brokenness we see all around us, but we love even more the rescue and restoration that follows. Good storytellers take that simple storyline and rivet our attention and affections with how they tell it.
A version of this story is Kill the Dragon, Get the Girl, where some evil creature or person wreaks terror among people but at the end a hero kills the creature and rescues the damsel in distress. My daughter, Hannah, and I loved the movie Taken with Liam Neeson, which followed this storyline.
2. Boy meets girl.
This is the classic romantic story, made extremely popular in recent days with romantic comedies like Hitch, The Proposal, Along Came Polly, and a host of other often-cheesy movies featuring actors like Ben Stiller, Will Smith, Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell, Jennifer Aniston, Sandra Bullock, and others. (I’m not endorsing them; just saying.) It includes romantic dramas such as The Vow.
There’s a guy and a girl who somehow meet. A chemical reaction begins between them. Then you see two things depicted in these films. First, guys are dumb. Really dumb. The guy doesn’t get the girl’s hints, or does something dumb to hurt her feelings. They named a movie titled Dumb and Dumber about two guys, after all. Then you realize a second feature: girls are crazy. The girl overreacts, goes drama queen, and the movie continues with the two almost figuring things out, until the end when they actually do, and, to quote another movie in the genre, Love Happens.
3. Rags to riches. This is the story of Cinderella, or The Princess
Diaries, or the favorite of Hannah’s and mine from years ago, What a Girl Wants. Sadness ultimately leads to a rescue and restoration beyond the wildest dreams of the star of the story.
Why do I use these examples when talking about sharing the gospel? Matt Chandler, Josh Patterson, and Eric Geiger help us to see why through the eyes of two literary greats, C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien:
A conversation once held between colleagues C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien speaks to this innate human desire for being part of larger-than-life stories, quests, and victories—the draw of our hearts toward “myths,” which Lewis said were “lies and therefore worthless, even though breathed through silver.”
“No,” Tolkien replied, “they are not lies.” Far from being untrue, myths are the best way—sometimes the only way—of conveying truths that would otherwise remain inexpressible. We have come from God, Tolkien argued, and inevitably the myths woven by us, though they do contain error, still reflect a splintered fragment of the true light, the eternal truth that is with God. Myths may be misguided, but they steer however shakily toward the true harbor.
These stories touch us because they speak to us, albeit imperfectly, where the gospel has the power to change us, to move our hearts toward the one who truly rescues and restores. We want a life of joy. We know something has gone wrong. We love and admire a rescuer, and we want a happily ever after, a rescue and a restoration. These stories touch us because they relate our lives to “the greatest epic the universe will ever know—God reconciling all things to himself in Christ.”
You can see that sharing Christ is helpful when we relate the gospel to truth we can see every day, whether in the stories we love or the design we see. This is so vital for a culture that no longer knows the story of the Bible. We don’t need to choose between the specific, propositional statements of gospel truth and the glorious story of the Bible. But we do need to help people see both the truth of the gospel and the great story of God’s redemptive plan.
My friends at Spread Truth Ministries (spreadtruth.com) have developed a wonderful tool to help believers see the whole gospel story of the Bible and share the good news of Jesus with others. The booklet they created called The Story has been a helpful tool for me.
Read more about The Story at viewthestory.com or download the app.
A few years ago I began realizing in my own witness how people I talked to didn’t seem to get the point of the gospel. It seemed more “churchy” to them than a message that would impact all of their life. I wanted to help people—especially young adults I interact with a lot—to see the great big picture of God’s plan and how their life related to God’s glory. In recent years I’ve seen more unchurched young adults come to Christ through sharing the whole gospel story than with any other approach. The gospel story offers a guide to help explain the gospel based on where the person you are talking with is at the moment. I will be unpacking this throughout the book, but let me walk you through this here.
There are many wonderful tools and apps you can use to help you share Jesus more confidently. Unfortunately, sometimes evangelism training unintentionally focuses too much on doing the evangelism program just right, rather than really knowing the gospel so you can share it in a conversation.
If you are at a church that uses a certain tool, such as “The Gospel Journey” by Dare2Share Ministries, “Two Ways to Live,” any of the free tools from The Way of the Master Television, or the courses offered by Christianity Explored, for instance, the principles in this book can help you share Christ using any of these and more. I also use the Life on Mission: 3 Circles conversation guide from the North American Mission Board (SBC). It’s another way of using the gospel story through circles. I’ve often drawn the three circles on a napkin at a coffee shop, and earlier this month I led a young man to Christ doing just that. My friend Jimmy Scroggins first developed this excellent approach while reaching unchurched people in South Florida. I want you to learn the gospel is more than a tool, although tools that center on the gospel can help grow our gospel fluency. We all need a baseline of gospel understanding to have conversations about Jesus, and tools like these can help.
Knowing and Sharing the Gospel Story
When you put a puzzle together, you start with the border, since a framework makes the rest of the image make sense. The grand narrative of the Bible follows the plotline of creation, fall, rescue, and restoration, the framework of Scripture that “frames up” our world and our greatest need as well as God’s
Alvin L. “Doc” Reid serves as Professor of Evangelism and Student Ministry at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in Wake Forest, North Carolina, where he has been since 1995. He is also the founding Bailey Smith Chair of Evangelism. He is the author of several books including Gospel Advanced: Leading a Movement That Changes the World.