Why Plan B Must No Longer Be An Option
We are a nation and culture of “Plan B” kind of people. We live as though there is always a backup plan. In fact, we love backup plans so much, we often create a backup plan to the backup plan. We like to reserve a few extra options in the back of our minds that if Plan A doesn’t work out, well, there’s always Plan B. Every smart bride who has an outdoor wedding as Plan A also selects an indoor location for Plan B, in the event of rain or some other unwelcome weather. Football teams keep second and third string quarterbacks on the sidelines so that if their Plan A quarterback gets walloped, well, there’s always the Plan B quarterback. Some people keep a “rainy day” savings account; you know, that extra stash of money that gets set aside so that if life should throw a curve ball, you’re prepared. “Rainy day” savings account is still code for Plan B.
For so long in my own life, I made one excuse after another to not physically exercise or be active. Lazy. Indifferent. Uninterested. Didn’t like sweating. Didn’t want to pay for a gym membership. Didn’t care. Didn’t have time for it. Plan A would have simply been to make working out a priority so that I could be healthy, but instead I came up with one Plan B after another. Other options simply took precedent. There were also Plans C, D, and E. It was easy for me to shrug my shoulders and say, “I just don’t like working out so I’m not going to.”
For some people, though, we walk through life with more significant Plan B's, which carry far more weight. Don’t like your marriage? There’s always divorce. Hate your job? You can always quit. Don’t like what the pastor preached this week at church? You can always find somewhere else to go. Tired of riding the bench while everyone else gets plenty of playing time? You can always throw in the towel. Don’t have the cash to buy something but you really, really want it? You can always swipe that little piece of plastic called a credit card.
Can there be legitimate causes for the above Plan B decisions? Yes. There are some jobs we need to leave and some relationships we need to exit. I’m not addressing those kinds of scenarios. I’m talking about the scenarios when we simply take the easy way out because it just got too hard. I’m talking about the scenarios when we decided that Plan A was no longer worth fighting for because Plan B simply looked that much more appealing and seemed that much easier, and because, quite frankly, we just didn’t want to do the hard work to see it that Plan A stayed Plan A.
We’ve got to stop living as though there is always a Plan B. You know all that physical exercise I didn’t like to do? That decision and that lack of discipline resulted in experiencing months of the most excruciating physical pain I have experienced in my life to date. After those health problems, I did a one-eighty, and you better believe my backside has been working out regularly at least a couple times a week, because I realized with stunning clarity that if I never wanted to experience that kind of pain again, I was going to have to do things differently. I couldn’t just keep doing what I had always done. I had to stop living as though there was an alternative option or Plan B.
And here’s why we all have to stop living as though there is a Plan B—God is a God of Plan A.
When Adam and Eve ate of the fruit in the Garden of Eden, God was not suddenly wringing his hands out wondering what on earth he was going to do now that those two had just waved bye-bye to Plan A. He wasn’t racking his brain, scrambling to figure out how to patch up the mess he was now in, and he certainly wasn’t losing sleep at night (not that he would anyway since he doesn’t sleep) trying to sort out how he would redeem what was now broken. He didn’t spend the moments immediately after humans ate what was forbidden, with his palm to his forehead, in a state of distress, thinking, “Well, this is not at all how I planned on this working out. Now what I am going to do?”
From the beginning of time and till the end of time the cross will forever and always stand as Plan A in response to our sin.
Let that settle in for a moment.
The cross was not some cosmic afterthought.
The death of God’s Son, Jesus Christ, was Plan A before sin entered the world, and his death was still Plan A after sin entered the world. John writes in Revelation 13:8,
“All inhabitants of the earth will worship the beast—all whose names have not been written in the Lamb’s book of life, the Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world” (NIV).
The apostle Peter echoes this idea in 1 Peter 1:18-21,
“For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect. He was chosen before the creation of the world, but was revealed in these last times for your sake. Through him you believe in God, who raised him from the dead and glorified him, and so your faith and hope are in God.”
Jesus was the lamb slain before the foundation of the world—long before Adam was created, long before Eve ate of the apple, and long before sin entered the picture and ushered in death and destruction. The cross stood as Plan A since before there was time.
And it has been Plan A ever since. The plan of the cross never faltered, never wavered, and was never negotiated in the hope of a better plan. God was not functioning out of the idea he was going to keep the crucifixion and death of his Son in his back pocket just in case things went haywire. They went haywire. He knew they would. And the death and crucifixion were Plan A all along. Sin did not come along and suddenly catch God by surprise or catch him off guard.
But what is to be our response to the weight of this truth?
Our response must be that we need to spend our days making Jesus Plan A in all that we do because he made his atonement for our sins his Plan A. Just as he was chosen before the creation of the world to die for our sins, he chose us to be holy and blameless. Paul declares in Ephesians 1:3-4,
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight.”
He chose us to be holy and blameless, which means we’ve got to decide that knowing and studying and memorizing the Word of God is Plan A, and not Plan B for whenever we feel like. We’ve got to decide that loving, serving and pursuing those around us is Plan A, and not Plan B for when we have the time and energy. We’ve got to decide that time in God’s presence must trump all else as Plan A, and not Plan B for when we happen to find some blank time in our days and in our calendar. We’re not always going to feel like it, we’re not always going to have the energy, and we’re not always going to find blank time.
But Plan A must become non-negotiable and our excuses must fall by the wayside. When it comes to spiritual disciplines, we must rid our vocabulary of phrases like “Plan B,” “someday,” and “eventually.” These words can have no place in our lives if we are to follow hard after Jesus.
When we realize and truly believe that Jesus’s death on the cross was Plan A before the creation of the world, then we have no choice but to make him our Plan A in all that we do.
In the spiritual disciplines of a Christ-follower, Plan B can no longer be an option.
Because Plan B was never an option for God.
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.
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New Book Release | Kelly Havrilla’s Gospel Glories from A to Z
We are releasing Kelly Havrilla’s Gospel Glories from A to Z in three formats—a digital edition, a black and white paperback, and a full color edition (click “look inside” to view full color images for the first several chapters). The Christian life is knowing God. It is not an impersonal knowledge of bare facts but one rooted in wonder at "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Cor. 4:6). It is knowing that basks in the glories of the gospel.
In Gospel Glories from A to Z, Kelly Havrilla works to reflect some of that glory onto each page as she connects deep biblical truths through the structure of the alphabet. Useful for both those new to the beauty of Christianity and those looking for a fresh way to grow deeper this book aims to make God's grace abundantly clear and accessible. Our hope is is that this reflection will spark a desire to venture into deeper waves of gospel glories.
If you love rich theology and great design, don’t hesitate to pick up our first ever full color book! Enjoy this excerpt from the “Preface.”
God made him who had no sin to be sin for us so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. – 2 Corinthians 5:21
“God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son.” That is the good news about Jesus Christ in a sentence, and that is the best news of all time for the entire world. The gospel, which means good news, is the centerpiece of the Christian message. It explains that although every person is separated from God because of sin, God in his justice, mercy, and love has made a way for us to be made right with him. And that way is remarkably simple—trusting in the person and work of Jesus Christ.
The Bible teaches that Jesus brought peace between God and man through his perfect life, sacrificial death on a cross, and resurrection from the grave. Jesus himself proclaimed in the Gospel of John, “I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (Jn. 14:6) This is an extraordinary claim. C.S. Lewis, Oxford theologian and author of the famous Chronicles of Narnia series, posed a compelling statement about Jesus. He said in view of all that Jesus did and said about himself, one cannot view him as merely an incredible teacher, a remarkable Prophet, or an exceptionally moral man. He must be either a liar, a lunatic, or he is who he said he is—Lord of all.
It’s a wonderfully amazing thing that we have the most credible and well-attested books of all time testifying about the life and works of Jesus—the Bible. Comprised of both Old and New Testaments with 66 books written by about 35 authors over a period of some 2000 years, the Bible has God’s ultimate plan of redemption as its singular theme. It repeatedly points to Jesus as the only person qualified to accomplish the task. The Bible authoritatively and accurately records who Jesus was, what he did, what he said, what others thought of him, and how they reacted to his claims. His greatest claim is that he is the very Son of God, sent by his Father—who so loved the world—on a rescue mission to save people on planet earth. And that is indeed good news!
In a New Testament letter to the church in Corinth, the Apostle Paul wrote, “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21). This is the good news from the pen of the great Apostle in concise form. God sent Jesus to earth to die for sins, and to rise again, so that those who trust in him can be forgiven of their sins and be declared righteous.
In the following pages, we will navigate our way through the alphabet of twenty-six gospel rich words; words which will enlighten, encourage and challenge us all. The gospel is the only true life-giving message in all the universe. I pray you learn it, believe it, and embrace it for yourself.
Kelly Havrilla lives in Plymouth, MI, with her husband David. They are both outdoor enthusiasts, love hiking in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, and enjoy spending time with family and friends. After a career in marketing at General Motors she has pursued a variety of creative endeavors. However, her greatest passion is the gospel. Over the years God has graciously opened numerous avenues into several local and international communities into which she and David have opportunities to minister and share the gospel. From this passion and desire was born the Gospel Glories project.
God’s Eclectic, Intriguing, and Quirky Construction Crew
I’m weird. I actually enjoy going to the Department of Motor Vehicles. I find it intriguing to spend part of an afternoon at the DMV because it offers the best glimpse of diversity in our culture today. Skinny or stout, tall or short, married or single, successful or struggling, we all spend a day paying our dues at the DMV. Paying for the right to be part of the community of transportation. The Department of Motor Vehicles gives us an accurate view of the people who make up our local culture. There are businessmen in dress slacks, hairdressers clothed in black, and homemakers looking casual with their kids in tow. There’s the middle-aged woman who will slide into her Mercedes Benz adorned with a personalized plate, and the elderly man who struggles to find the flexibility to attach this year’s tag to his Buick.
Diversity. That’s why the DMV is such a great place to spend part of a day.
It’s different from hanging out at Panera Bread. Only a certain type of person is going to grab coffee and a cinnamon crunch bagel, enjoy some classical music, and respond to e-mails from a laptop at Panera.
It’s not like spending time at the local Cabela’s store. Only a specific segment of our population is going to be testing the weight and feel of the newest fiberglass fly-fishing rod. (Likely, this isn’t the same person sitting in his second office—Panera.)
It’s not like meandering around Bath & Body Works sniffing the soft fragrances of their body lotions and triple-wick candles. Folks who spend time and hard-earned money at Cabela’s aren’t typically concerned about eucalyptus spearmint hand lotion.
Sweet bagel, new fly rod, and aromatherapy lotion aside—everybody needs transportation. It’s a commonality that unites us all. The DMV offers me a genuine glimpse of the broad spectrum of people in my local community. Folks I might not run into at Panera or Cabela’s or Bath & Body.
But there is another reason I enjoy the Department of Motor Vehicles. Whenever I sit and wait for my number to be called, I’m reminded of another more significant picture of diversity. One with a global reach. A collection of individuals with a wide expanse of socioeconomic, cultural, political, and theological differences. A group with more examples of uniqueness than even the DMV can attract. God’s church!
By design God draws to himself teachers and artists, contractors and caregivers, to be part of the unique group of people he calls his church. He created it that way.
God calls the poor, the wounded, the opinionated, the nosey, the caring, the broken, the seemingly unlovable. He calls them his own. He welcomes all of us, with our quirks and our maladies, into his unique community of love and acceptance, of grace and truth.
This community is far different from anything you or I could ever dream up! Not because we couldn’t pull together a group of folks that would resemble the famous “Buy the World a Coke” television commercial from the 1970s.1 With a little help from our Facebook friends, we could gather a group from across the globe. Problem is, we wouldn’t. The power of diversity is lost on most of us.
You and I would likely pick a group that looked a whole lot like us. We’d choose people who wear the same Eddie Bauer jeans, Gap sweatshirts, and Clark’s shoes that we do—folks who drive Honda SUVs, make the same schooling choice that we make,2 and live in three-name subdivisions.
If it were up to us to choose, God’s church would look a whole lot like you and a whole lot like me. The Church of the Mirror.
Fortunately, God in his great wisdom, didn’t draw unto himself a collection of clean-cut-Christian look-alikes, dressed in white polo shirts and khaki pants. He didn’t draft a fantasy faith team of the smartest, funniest, best looking, and most creative.
The church that Jesus is building is an eclectic, intriguing, quirky, diverse mess of humanity. That’s God’s way. (Which couldn’t be more different than our personal view of the world—and the church.)
It’s All about Me!
Simple fact: you were made in God’s image. It’s true. Here’s the evidence in black and white:
Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. . . .”
So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. (Gen. 1:26–27)
Because we were made in the image of God, bearing his likeness, we are really significant. We carry with us the image of the Creator and sustainer of the entire world! (Take a moment to ponder that.) It’s an amazing and humbling truth wrapped up tight in a skin-covered package that is uniquely you and uniquely me.
How amazing are we? God himself smiled on his creation. “And God saw everything that he had made, and behold it was very good” (Gen. 1:31).
It was very good!
But now, the very good thing has a problem. Our significance often causes us to idolize the created instead of the Creator. We worship self instead of worshipping the Holy.
Here’s how it works: instead of thankfully and joyfully being little images of the living God, we make big images of ourselves and consider God the little one. We don’t say this, of course—that would be blasphemous. But what we practice is a world centered on our thoughts, our actions, and our dreams.
Don’t believe it? Consider for a moment the way you and I typically determine the quality or value of a photograph. It’s a great photo if you look good! Right? Not such a good shot if your eyes are shut or your smile reveals a front tooth with a piece of the broccoli you had at lunch.
Here’s another one: Consider the appropriate driving speed on the highway. You set the curve. Everyone else needs to stop driving like your great-grandmother and get out of your way, or they’re certifiable speed demons driving like NASCAR star Jimmy Johnson! Right?
We tend to be the barometer of all that is right and true and correct in the world.
Obviously, these are two seemingly insignificant ways we position ourselves as the ultimate authority in our day-to-day experience. What we’re really doing is slowly developing a mind-set where we elevate our thoughts and actions above God’s plan and his desires. Unfortunately, our experience with other Christ followers often puts them on the receiving end of our elevated view of self. And, typically, we don’t even realize we’re doing it.
Anne Lamott captures the essence of this thinking when she writes of some honest counsel she once received: “You can safely assume that you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.”3
Can’t see this sort of thinking in your own life? Consider how easily the mind-set takes over after a weekend worship service or a midweek small-group gathering.
- Are you critical of the music style of worship unless it matches the tunes in your iPod?
- Are you disappointed in the pastor’s sermon unless it’s filled with enough funny stories and memorable illustrations that you can bluff your way through a dinner conversation about the message’s application for your life?
- Do you disapprove of the newly appointed elders who were selected to lead your church because none of them are guys you play golf with each week?
- Are you unhappy with the new person who’s been added to the teaching team of your Sunday school class because he’s been influenced by the wrong theologians and Christian thinkers?
- Are you critical of the book you’re studying in your weekly small group because it’s challenging the way you and your spouse are parenting your two children?
Your dissatisfaction and angst might be warning signs that you’ve begun to attend church made in your own image. Built on your opinions. Fashioned after your desires. You’ve made yourself the senior pastor of the Church of the Mirror.
Unfortunately, this happens in the hearts and minds of Christ followers every weekend. You do it. I’m guilty. It happens in churches of every denomination, of every size, in every city. The Church of the Mirror mind-set infiltrates congregations everywhere—without much opposition.
Church databases are filled with people who came from the church across town. Christ followers shuffle from one local body of believers to another. Why? Because something’s always wrong—the worship style, the volume, the pastor, the elders, the lady who wears too much perfume, the guy who’s got too many tattoos, the folks whose tongues are too loose in the lobby following the service—all are very important. The real problem? Other people who aren’t like that person in the mirror.
That’s why longtime pastor Eugene Peterson says:
The people we encounter as brothers and sisters in faith are not always nice people. They do not stop being sinners the moment they begin believing in Christ. They don’t suddenly metamorphose into brilliant conversationalists, exciting companions and glowing inspirations. Some of them are cranky, some of them are dull and others (if the truth must be spoken) a drag. But at the same time our Lord tells us they are brothers and sisters in the faith. If God is my Father, then this is my family.4
As the pastor who oversees the small groups at my church, I see this I-want-to-pick-my-family thinking with regularity.
If some members classify themselves as “deep” biblically and theologically, they’re typically only interested in connecting with a group of Christ followers of similar depth. And if they can’t find others to discuss the nuances and differences in the Synoptic Gospels or kick around the theological similarities of John Calvin and Jonathan Edwards, they’re looking for another group of believers where they can experience “deep” community.
While there is certainly something unique in our culture about folks who still value a deep biblical or theological discussion, this desire often makes me wonder; who will be left to guide the younger, less-mature believers if all the people with biblical and theological depth are off swimming in the deep end of the pool of Christian community?
Another example I see often is the common interest in being physically active. Active people often want to invest only in others who’ll bike and hike, camp and fish, and exert their inner Bear Grylls on the weekends. Common activities aren’t wrong. Doing life together in a small-group community that has similar interests can provide us with powerful experiences and lifelong memories. But this active group is typically a made-in- my-image community. It’s too narrow. Too self-serving. Too me-focused. It pays little respect to the diversity of God’s church.
Pastor John Ortberg wrote an entire book on the oddities and quirkiness of God’s people. In it, he says, “The yearning to attach and connect, to love and be loved, is the fiercest longing of the soul. Our need for community with people and the God who made us is to the human spirit what food and air and water are to the human body. That need will not go away even in the face of all the weirdness.”5
Most of us long for a church community that is rich in worship, teaching, and relationships. We yearn for a worshipping community that regularly leads us into the presence of the Father. We desire a teaching community that is rooted in Scripture and is theologically rich. And we long for a community of Christ followers who are honest about living out their faith in word and deed. Problem is, we too often want all of these communities created in our image.
Rick McKinley pastors the Imago Dei Community in Portland, Oregon. His church is a diverse collection of urban professionals, former drug addicts, and young middle-class families. His clarity on this diversity of God’s people is refreshing: “Jesus created the community of the church to be a family that comes into being by a new birth in Jesus and the miracle of our union with him. Jesus didn’t create a product for us to evaluate and decide if we like it or not.”6
The diversity that we see among the unique community of people that God is building called his church is something that we should run toward—not away from. It should intrigue us to know people—at a deep, spiritual level—who are unlike the person we see in the mirror.
The security that we have as men and women of our heavenly Father should open doors of opportunity that nonbelievers can only dream of having. Is there a safer person from whom to learn about an opposing political view than a fellow believer? Could there be a less confrontational environment to discuss racial issues? Isn’t a fellow Christ follower the best person to help you understand the economic challenges faced by the poor, or the weight of responsibility carried by the wealthy?
The community God is building is incredibly diverse. And every one of us is better because the rest of the community doesn’t look just like us.
1. The 1971 advertisement with teenagers from across the globe made the song “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing (in Perfect Harmony)” such a part of our culture that many Coca-Cola-drinking adults can still sing it today some forty years later.
2. A pastor friend of mine once told me that he could look out over his congregation of three hundred on a Sunday morning and see the dividing lines of homeschool, Christian school, and public/charter school families in the seating patterns at the worship service.
3. Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (New York: Anchor, 1994), 22.
4. Eugene Peterson, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction: Discipleship in an Instant Society (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2000), 176.
5. John Ortberg, Everybody’s Normal Till You Get to Know Them (Grand Rap- ids: Zondervan, 2003), 18.
6. Rick McKinley, A Kingdom Called Desire: Confronted by the Love of a Risen King (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2011), 139.
Rob Bentz (MDiv, Reformed Theological Seminary) is the lead pastor of Woodside Bible Church in White Lake, Michigan. Rob has written numerous articles for various ministry websites and is currently a featured blog writer at ChurchLeaders.com. He and his wife, Bonnie, have two children and live in Highland, Michigan.
Content taken from The Unfinished Church: God's Broken and Redeemed Work-in-Progress by Rob Bentz, ©2014. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.
A Great Idea, A Better Mission
“What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun” (Eccl. 1:9). This is wisdom that rings true for much of life. But when it comes to race relations, particularly in my United States of America, I pray (and know confidently from Scripture) that one day those words will no longer describe the racial climate I find myself immersed in. For me to feel the intensity of it all is really something. I’m a white male, and I have the privilege of being able to put thinking about my skin color to bed most days, while those of another ethnicity are kept awake at night. I am never subjected to criticism, slander, threats, or violence on the basis of my whiteness. I don’t fear for my life when pulled over. There are no pictures of my ancestors being treated inhumanely.
RECONCILIATION: ESCHATALOGICAL IDEAL OR PRESENT DAY REALITY?
“Racial reconciliation” has for a long time seemed a nice thought that makes sense on paper. I read it implicitly in Scripture and wholeheartedly agree:
- David writes about the pleasantness of Christian unity (Ps. 133:1).
- Paul tells of Christ’s breaking down the dividing wall of hostility (Eph. 2:14), and
- John foretells the forthcoming multitude of nations and tribes and peoples and languages, present before the Lamb of God himself (Rev. 7:9).
These are common Scriptural principles, but they’ve always seemed like an ideal. Racial reconciliation has always been something I’ve had more of an eschatological hope for, an eager anticipation to see take place one thankfully glorious, but sorrowfully distant day.
Martin Luther King Jr., the prophetic leader of the Civil Rights Movement, did not see racial reconciliation in the same light. Of course, he looked forward to the day when the sins of racism, prejudice, and ethnocentrism would pass away forever, but Dr. King never viewed racial reconciliation as limited to the future—he saw it as a mission for the present day. Dr. King’s words, penned in the famous Letter from Birmingham Jail, highlight King’s focus on the need for current reform:
“In the midst of blatant injustices inflicted upon the Negro, I have watched white churches stand on the sideline and merely mouth pious irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities. In the midst of a mighty struggle to rid our nation of racial and economic injustice, I have heard so many ministers say, ‘Those are social issues with which the Gospel has no real concern.’ . . . The judgment of God is upon the Church as never before. If the Church of today does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early Church, it will lose its authentic ring, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century.”
I am horrified to ponder what Dr. King would say of our churches today.
THE TIME IS NOW
In the wake of the hate and vitriol spread by White Supremacists in Charlottesville, the innocent people dying in the name of protest, and the hostility surrounding our administration’s action/inaction over that weekend, the burden for those unlike me in ethnicity is heavy. Yet, I can only imagine how heavy their shoulders must feel.
There is no more time to sit on our hands or pontificate. This is our moment: will we be people of the gospel, or will we become the “irrelevant social club” King lamented?
At a practical level, how do we foster gospel-driven racial reconciliation in our churches today? How do I, as a white pastor, move my thinking about such matters from an eschatological ideal to a present reality I am pursuing, in the flesh, in real time?
I don’t have a manual. There’s no silver bullet to right race relations. These matters are complex and built over time—but this shouldn’t discourage us from getting to work.
A ROMAN ROAD TO RECONCILIATION
Fortunately, Paul has given us a “manual” of sorts in Romans 12. Though it is not exhaustive, Paul’s words in Romans 12:9-21 offer plenty of places to start for how we should pursue racial reconciliation in our churches and beyond:
“Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” To the contrary, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” – Romans 12:9-21
Below are some reflections on this passage, as well as some shifts and ways in which pastors, elders, and church bodies can work to implement these principles real-time.
#1 – Be with, listen, and learn
We have a wealth of opportunities to be people of the gospel in racial reconciliation when we commit to simply being there. We are to “seek to show hospitality . . . [weeping] with those who weep” (12:13, 15). Notice there is no emphasis on providing answers or offering insight. Those of us who are not living the reality of racial discrimination are well-served to take a posture of humility, seeking to learn and understand, valuing our minority brothers and sisters enough to be taught by them. An easy way to do this? Invite them to preach, lead panel discussions, or conference sessions at your church.
#2 – Condemn racism from the pulpit
The pulpit is a primary avenue through which we should talk clearly and honestly about the sin of racism. Church leaders, we shouldn’t expect people to believe we are a church that cares about this issue if we make no attempt to formally and routinely address it.
#3 – Make racism a church discipline issue
Practice what you preach. We are called to “abhor what is evil” and to “not be slothful in zeal” (Rom. 12:9, 11). When it comes to racism within the church, it is often sadly overlooked, shrugged off, or swept under the rug. This is pastorally lazy. People of the gospel cannot, and must not, stand for such adamant and explicit rejection of man’s dignity under the banner of the gospel. Churches must be willing to protect the flock enough to enact church discipline for overt, unapologetic racism. We should have nothing to do with such activity (Eph. 5:11).
#4 – Pray for the marginalized, and those who marginalize
Paul's petition to be “fervent in spirit” and “constant in prayer” (Rom. 12:11-12) cannot be overstated. One crucial way for churches to commit themselves to racial reconciliation is by tenacious, tireless prayer for change in the body, the city, and the nation.
We are compelled by the gospel to “love one another with brotherly affection” (Rom. 12:10), to take it upon ourselves to make their issues our issues and their prayers our own. Even in an area where there is little racial diversity, prayer for the nations is an easy way to practically address these issues. Not only should we commit to praying for those who are oppressed, but the oppressor as well, in hopes that he will repent and believe in the gospel of reconciliation by God’s grace.
#5 – Serve beyond your church walls
We “outdo one another in showing honor” (Rom. 12:10) to those unlike us, not out of pity or out of a desire to be seen, but out of a conviction that we have been made one in Christ. Partnering with churches that look ethnically different but share a common vision for gospel reconciliation is an easy way forward. Getting involved locally or globally with those of different ethnic backgrounds is another to work towards reconciliation.
#6 – Don’t limit activity to online engagement
One of the easiest ways Satan would love for people of the gospel to approach racial reconciliation is to think of it only in the realm of social commentary and never in terms of actionable steps. If all we do is lament the state of American race relations from behind a screen, we will never truly effect change in the real world. The lives and souls of image-bearers are too important to leave all of this to mere talking points. Paul, again and again in this passage, is pointing to physical and incarnational relationship.
Paul calls the gospel “the power of God,” good enough for Jew and Greek alike (Rom. 1:16). We have a significant gospel moment before us. This is the time for each of us to grab a chisel and hammer in the name of Christ and begin to chip away at the wall of hostility racism has built in this country—and one day the wall will break.
Inaction when it comes to racism and prejudice stinks before God. It repulses him. Racial reconciliation is a great idea—and an even a better mission.
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.
10 Family Worship Ideas for Busy Families
Honestly, family worship has intimidated me since my wife and I first had children. Sure I have seminary training. Sure I love to talk about theology. But how do I transfer all of that to family worship? Does it even help? Family worship was nearly non-existent for the first several years of my marriage, but I realized something. My trepidation revealed a misgiving in my own heart. I confessed with my mouth that the gospel had changed my life. I confessed that it had the power to change others’ lives. But in my shepherding responsibilities as a husband and father I acted like it wasn’t enough and that my family needed something more than the ordinary means of grace.
Have you ever felt that way? That you had to put some extra oomph into your family worship to make sure it was effective? Don’t put the weight of what only God can accomplish on your shoulders. Obey what you are commanded to do, claim God’s promises, and trust in the Spirit’s effectual work.
Here are my practical tips for family worship.
#1 – Get into a rhythm
I recommend having a flexible routine that your kids can count on. For instance, we struggled to find a time that worked for my family for a long time. Years back I realized when we eat dinner, I’m frequently done five minutes or more before my family (I’ve always been a fast eater). For a time this worked great. I would eat my food, and it was a natural time for our family to talk, share, and pray.
My schedule has since changed and now mornings work better. Figure out what works best for your family. Adapt when necessary. Don’t let the rhythm become an unbreakable rule and don’t miss the spare time (Deut. 6:1-4).
#2 – Don’t sweat the busy day or week
Here’s the good news. You have your kids for at least eighteen years. If you miss a day or even a week it’s not the end of the world. We have a flexible schedule, but if something happens we don’t sweat it and plan to pick up family worship as soon as we can. Also, these busy days or weeks are a great time to take advantage of those minutes in the car or elsewhere that can be redeemed. They key is to make returning to family worship a priority.
#3 – Read Scripture
Don’t neglect reading the scriptures. It doesn’t need to be an entire chapter. It can be just a couple verses. You could also use a good audio bible like Max Mclean’s The Listener’s Bible. Or you could have fun with it and act out a story from the Old Testament. Just don’t neglect the word.
#4 – Ask questions about the text
When you read scripture, ask your family questions relevant to them and always point them back to Jesus. The younger your kids are the more basic these questions will be. Don’t get fancy. Simple questions to drive their hearts toward Jesus and to get them thinking.
#5 – Sing with your kids
For years I was really discouraged because I don’t sing well, and I don’t play instruments. Neither does my wife. We could’ve taught my kids songs without music, but it just didn’t seem the same.
However, with the explosion of smartphones and streaming music services we’ve found a great way to incorporate music into our family worship. We use Spotify to access our favorite songs, and we belt it out. I’ve kept my old Together for the Gospel hymnal/booklets and use those as a road map, but you could just as easily repeat the songs you sang in church on Sunday or purchase a hymnal.
#6 – Use Catechisms
Catechism are old school. Don’t hate the tried and true. They are a great way to teach your kids systematically through the big truths of the Bible. My personal favorite is the new New City Catechisms (which bring together the best of the reformed catechisms).
For your classic creeds, confessions, and catechisms, I've collected the essentials in We Believe: Creeds, Confessions, & Catechisms:
- The Apostles' Creed,
- The Nicene Creed, and
- The Athanasian Creed;
- The Dutch Reformed Three Forms of Unity;
- The Westminster Confession and Shorter Catechism;
- The London Baptist Confession and Spurgeon's A Puritan Catechism;
- The Augsburg Confession and Luther's Small Catechism; and
- The Anglican's Thirty-Nine Articles and
- An Outline of the Faith
Your favorite catechisms have probably been set to music too. For the Westminster Shorter Catechism check out The Westminster Shorter Catechism Songs: The Complete CD Set.
Also, Starr Meade has developed a devotional based on the Westminster Shorter Catechism (Training Hearts, Teaching Minds) which is top notch and the Heidelburg Catechism. Of course, there are also the Baptist catechisms.
#7 – Use story books
In addition to reading scripture, there are also some story book bibles which will really help familiarize yourself with the big picture of scripture. Check out The Jesus Story Book Bible, The Gospel Story Bible, and The Big Picture Story Bible.
#8 – Teach them to pray
Start with the Lord’s Prayer. It’s short and theologically rich. You can start reciting this together and soon your family will know it by heart. And if you need help praying from there check out The Valley of Vision. It will draw your focus to God.
But also pray for your kids in front of them. Here’s an example of what I pray,
Dear Lord, thank you so much for Claire, Maddy, and Adele. You’ve blessed us with these children, and they have truly been a gift. Father, we know you love to show yourself faithful in families and you have promised to keep your covenant to a thousand generations. I plead with you, Father, that you would work in their hearts. Help them understand their need for Jesus. Cleanse their heart and draw them to yourself so that your faithfulness would be praised and your name would be made great. Do it for your glory, Lord. Amen.
It's good to teach them early and often that we all depend on God. Pray for your spouse. Have your children pray for the family and your marriage. If you have a sick friend, pray for them. Pray for their pastors, teachers, Sunday school teachers. Pray for your country's leaders.
#9 – Memorize Scripture
Don’t stress. Small portions. Little bit at a time. Get in a rhythm. Do it as a family and talk about what the truth in that verse is. One way to make it fun is to use Seeds Worship, which puts Scripture to music. Also, if you need a plan, Desiring God offers its Fighter Verses, which you can download as an app for most smartphones.
#10 – Make it fun
Don’t be so up tight. Don’t be the family worship Nazi. You know who I’m talking about. Teach your kids to reverence the Lord. Teach them to honor God. Teach them he is holy. But don’t make him out to be the Grinch who stole Christmas. Have fun. Laugh. Be joyful.
Don’t lose heart parents. The gospel is powerful and saves. No additives needed. Just apply consistently in ordinary ways.
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!
An Unredeemed Sense of Guilt
The human conscience is a like a fine musical instrument. When in tune, it plays lovely music. When out of tune, it sounds wrong notes. A conscience rightly oriented has three characteristics: What is the standard? You evaluate yourself (and others) by God’s standards of right and wrong.
Who is the judge whose opinion matters? How God views you matters more than how you view yourself (self-esteem) or how others view you (reputation).
Where do you turn when you fail? You rely on God’s mercies in Christ.
Experiences of sexual darkness bring disorientation to the conscience. We will look at two problems: the self-righteousness of a seared conscience and the self-condemnation of an anguished conscience.
First, a dull or seared conscience is a deadly affliction. Many sexual behaviors are misbehaviors, but the conscience feels no guilt or shame. Instead, wrongdoing is defended and even extolled as normal and desirable—the wrong standard. Appeal is made to the authority of personal desires and popular opinion—the wrong judges. There is no need for mercy because people are okay as they are—self-salvation by self- righteousness is assumed. The conscience reassures itself, “Peace, peace,” but there is no peace. The operations of the conscience fail the test of reality on all three counts. But God can take such a heart of stone and make such a person come to life.
Second, an anguished conscience is an exceedingly painful affliction. Feelings of guilt and shame become stuck in a vortex of self-condemnation. Rightly aroused guilt and shame are good gifts of God. They signal that something is wrong. Guilt senses failure against a standard that matters; shame senses failure before the eyes that matter. These feelings are natural, God-given repercussions when our conscience is alive to genuine personal failure before God. But guilt and shame are meant to go somewhere good.
What do you do when you find yourself drowning in self-condemnation? The normal aftermath of doing wrong (or thinking you have done wrong) is to feel guilt, shame, regret, and remorse. But what comes next? We are meant to seek and find mercy and refuge in the loving welcome of our Father. But when we are not alive to the mercies of Christ, what follows is a predictable cycle of repetitive self-reproach, resolutions to change, self-punishing penance, attempts to forgive ourselves, hollow rationalizations, trying to make up for the wrong by compensating actions, self-concealment, escapism to numb pain and shame, and, finally, despair.
Consider two self-condemnation scenarios. What happens when the conscience is accurate—for example, “My girlfriend and I were wrong to do that”—but blind to the mercies of God? Right standard, right judge. But this true sense of guilt spirals in many fruitless directions. And what happens when the conscience is inaccurate? For example, “I should have done something to avoid being sexually abused. It must have been my fault. I feel horrible about myself and ashamed to let anyone know.” Wrong standard, wrong judge. And self-blame for wrong reasons is inevitably blind to God’s mercies, so it spirals in further fruitless directions. The second scenario calls for a more comprehensive reorientation of the conscience, but both forms of self-condemnation need to find the mercies of God.
Consider a situation where actual sin has occurred. An unmarried man and woman have not treated one another respectfully, as brother and sister, but have indulged in heavy petting. They know they’ve done wrong. But, like many strugglers, they oscillate between moments of obsession with erotic pleasure and days of obsession with moral failure. Guilt turns them inward.
But grace invites them out of themselves. So simple to say, so hard to do. We routinely underestimate how radically faith relies on fresh mercies freely given. Grace means that what makes things right comes to this brother and sister from outside themselves. It’s a sheer gift from their Father and their Savior given courtesy of the Holy Spirit. They don’t get it by self-laceration, by trying to work up a different set of feelings, by trying to say it’s not that big a deal, by resolutions to do better, by distracting themselves. They are forgiven, accepted, and saved from death by God’s mercy. Listen to how Scripture shows a person dealing candidly with his former and current sins. The italics highlight how much his hope amid guilt lies outside himself:
Remember, O Lord, Your compassion and Your lovingkindnesses, for they have been from of old. Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions; According to Your lovingkindness remember me, For Your goodness’ sake, O Lord.
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For Your name’s sake, O Lord, Pardon my iniquity, for it is great. (Ps. 25:6–7, 11 NASB)
David’s sexual sin was high-handed. It tore his conscience (Psalms 32, 38, 51). It brought immediate and long-lasting consequences (2 Sam. 12:10–12, 14–15). Yet David was truly forgiven (2 Sam. 12:13). He experienced the joy of repentance and the wisdom, clarity, and purposeful energy that real repentance brings—captured in those same psalms and the rest of 2 Samuel 12. Notice how David radically appeals to the quality of “Your compassion . . . lovingkindnesses . . . goodness . . . O Lord.” David’s own conscience remembers only too well what he did. But he appeals to what God will choose to remember. In effect, “When God looks at me, will he remember my sin or his own mercies? O Lord, when you think about me, remember yourself.” Understanding these last few sentences will forever change your experience of failure.
So let’s make it personal. Are you haunted by your sins in the eyes of God, in the eyes of your conscience, and in the eyes of others who might find out? Your sin may have just occurred a few minutes ago; or it may be a distant but potent memory. Perhaps you don’t commit that sin anymore. You’ve come far and no longer feel any allure to a lifestyle you once avidly pursued. Or perhaps you just did it again. But the memory—whether fresh-minted or ancient history—fills you with dismay. Perhaps immediate and long-term consequences of your sin run far beyond the repercussions within your conscience: abortion, STD, inability to bear children, ongoing vulnerability to certain kinds of temptations, a bad reputation, ruined relationships, wasted time, failed responsibilities. Nobody did this to you; you did it to yourself. The sense of shame and dirty distaste haunts your sexuality just as it haunts those who were victimized. Only you victimized yourself (and others you betrayed). You, too, feel like damaged goods. Sex is not bright, iridescent, cheerful, restrained, generous, matter-of-fact. It is not a flat-out good to be enjoyed with your spouse, or saved should you ever marry.
You might live with such guilty feelings in your singleness. You might have brought them into your marriage. Perhaps you are afraid of relationships, because you know from bitter experience that you can’t be trusted. Perhaps it’s hard to shake off the train of bleak associations that attach to sexual feelings and acts.
Just as sin and suffering turn us in on ourselves, so guilt and shame spiral inward. But living repentance and faith turn outward to the one whose opinion most matters. What God chooses to “remember” about you will prove decisive. Your conscience, if well tuned, is secondary. (This retuning is the core dynamic in renewing an inaccurate conscience.) Your self-evaluation depends on the evaluation he makes and the stance he takes. If the Lord is merciful, then mercy gets final say. It is beyond our comprehension that God acts mercifully for his sake, because of what he is like. Wrap your heart around this, and the typical aftermath of sin will never be the same. You will stand in joy and gratitude, not grovel in shame. You’ll be able to get back about the business of life with fresh resolve, not just with good intentions and some flimsy New Year’s resolutions to do better next time. This is our hope. This is our deepest need. This is our Lord’s essential and foundational gift.
You need to know how faith in Christ’s mercy decenters you off of yourself and re-centers you onto the living God’s promise and character. You know other people who need to know this. We typically mishandle the aftermath of sin with further forms of the God-lessness that manufactures sin. The One “to whom we must give an account” freely offers mercy and grace to help us by the loving-kindness of the Lord Jesus Christ (Heb. 4:13–16).
David Powlison (MDiv, Westminster Theological Seminary) is a teacher, a counselor, and the executive director of the Christian Counseling & Educational Foundation. He is also the senior editor of the Journal of Biblical Counseling and the author of Seeing with New Eyes, Good & Angry, and Speaking Truth in Love.
Content taken from Making All Things New: Restoring Joy to the Sexually Broken by David Powlison, ©2017. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.
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.