Jen Oshman 3/11/18 Jen Oshman 3/11/18

Is Hospitality Your Mentality?

Our house was always open. People were always in and out. Chunks of concrete from our tropical storm-ravaged roof were always falling. We were young. We had children and were adopting another. It was hot. Large bugs and even larger lizards lived right alongside us. Among those insects and reptiles, we were learning how to make disciples.

It was chaos. It was sacred.

MILITARY MISSION

When I was twenty-five, my husband and I packed up our six-month-old baby girl and two 50-pound suitcases and moved to Okinawa, Japan. We went as missionaries to the American military stationed there.

Our job was to live in a large home right outside the base and welcome in-service members and their families for meals, holidays, game nights, and Bible studies.

Every Friday, a handful of military wives and I cooked dinner for a hundred and my husband preached. The Holy Spirit moved. People got saved. Marriages were mended. Men and women walked with Jesus like they never had before.

BIG, EMPTY HOMES

We moved back to the States two years ago. People in our neighborhood come home at night and pull into their garage, close the door, and disappear inside. Many of us see our homes as our refuge; our oasis; our fortress of solitude.

Rather than opening and sharing our homes, the current American Dream is that each family member has his or her own room, their own screen, and their own bathroom. The typical American home built in the 1950s was 1,700 square feet, while in 2017 it was 2,600 square feet. Our homes are larger and nicer—but there is less life within.

We know this solitary way of living isn’t good for us. Research^[1] shows that my own hometown of Denver is among the loneliest places to live. People are moving here in droves—by the hundreds of thousands every year. Transplants want the outdoor lifestyle, the great weather, the young and active population, the hip places to eat, work, and play.

But they get here, move into their homes, and find not a place of belonging, but of loneliness. My trendy city is one of the loneliest places in America; Denver residents report feeling relationally empty and lacking purpose.

MADE FOR COMMUNITY, CALLED TO HOSPITALITY

This is not the way it's supposed to be. God created us for community. His grand plan since the first days of creation was that we humans would commune with him and with one another. The Lord made a home in the Garden of Eden—a place of hospitality, where his people could gather and be satisfied. When Adam was alone, God said it wasn’t good (Gen. 2:18). He made Eve and told the new couple to multiply and fill the earth (Gen. 1:28).

Throughout the Old and New Testaments, we see the Lord calling his people to welcome in the foreigner, the stranger, the neighbor, the brother and sister in Christ (Lev. 19:34; Deut. 10:19; Matt. 25:34-36; Mark 12:31; Heb. 13:2). Our God is a welcomer. Loneliness is not his will—it’s not his nature. Christ-followers have been commanded to gather in their homes to share meals and conversation. When we welcome others into our homes for a meal, we are modeling what life was like when our God welcomed us into his dwelling and we ate and were satisfied, communing together with one another.

Paul says, “Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality” (Rom. 12:13). Peter says to do so without grumbling (1 Pet. 4:9). The church models its welcoming Lord by being hospitable. Hospitality is of such importance that church elders “must be hospitable” (Titus 1:8). God lays upon church leaders the need to live open-handedly with their homes and resources.

We’re all called to do it, so why don’t we?

We think our house isn’t big enough, our kids are too crazy, we don’t know how to cook, people don’t do that anymore; it’s weird, they’ll think we’re selling something. Or maybe we think it sounds too simple. We’re looking for a professional way of doing hospitality; for the latest three-point strategy to love our neighbors and get them saved.

But all of this misses the point.

SHARING THE GOSPEL—AND OUR LIVES

Back in Okinawa, the missionary who lived in the “Hospitality House“ before us hand-painted a sign that hung in the main gathering space. The sign read, “Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well” (1 Thess. 2:8, NIV).

Sharing the gospel results in sharing life. The gospel compels us to love our Lord so much that we can’t help but see others the way he does. And if we love others, we’ll share not only our faith with them—but our lives as well.

May it not be said of us who live in big, empty homes that we don’t love enough! May it not be said of us who dwell in solitary apartments that we don’t actually believe God when he says hospitality is important! May it not be said of any of us that we don’t resemble Jesus in the way we use our home.

Jesus—“who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men” (Phil. 2:6-7)—is the ultimate welcomer, the preeminent host who left heaven, walked with us, and invited us to sit at the table with his Father. It was Jesus the Thessalonians were emulating when they shared the gospel and their lives. It was Jesus who loved us so much that he was delighted to share with us not only the gospel of God, but also his life and death and resurrection!

As Christ followers, may we be like Jesus. May we be like the Thessalonians. May we love those around us so much that we share not only the gospel of God, but our lives—including our homes—as well. May we lay down our lives, lay down our personal space, lay down our homes, lay down our kids‘ playroom, lay down our quiet nights on the couch, and invite others inside.

HOSPITALITY WORKS

There is power in hospitality. It works. My heart fills with joy when I think of the many young men who ate dinner with us, who were drawn to Christ through us, who couldn’t resist the powerful grace of him who sent us. My inbox is filled daily with updates from women who once were lost, but now are found because of time spent around our dinner table; women whose marriages were ravaged but are now whole; women who pondered abortion but then chose life; women who had walked without Jesus for years but are now raising their kids in him!

If hospitality works on a far-off island in a crumbling concrete home, amongst lizards and young adults who don’t really know how to cook yet, I assure you God will work through hospitality right where you live.

Who lives on your street or in your building or in your dorm that would be blessed by an invitation for coffee-and-donuts at your table this Saturday morning? Who could you share lunch with at work? Is there a family your kid plays soccer with that might enjoy hot dogs on your grill after practice? How about asking that new single at church to lunch this Sunday?

Hospitality isn’t flashy. People can be loved well in the ordinary chaos of life. It simply requires laying down your life and inviting others in. It’s what Jesus did, and it’s what he’s asking—and empowering—us to do, right where we live.

^[1] https://www.denverite.com/denver-metro-ranked-last-colorado-well-way-behind-boulder-31344/

Jen Oshman is a wife and mom to four daughters and has served as a missionary for 17 years on three continents. She currently resides in Colorado where she and her husband serve with Pioneers International, and she encourages her church-planting husband at Redemption Parker. Her passion is leading women to a deeper faith and fostering a biblical worldview. She writes at www.jenoshman.com.

Elaine Storkey 3/8/18 Elaine Storkey 3/8/18

How the Gospel Confronts Violence Against Women

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

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

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

SIN CORRODES LIFE AND LOVE

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

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

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

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

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

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

THEOLOGY THAT MOVES BEYOND SIN

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

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

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

A THEOLOGY OF HOPE

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

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

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

GOSPEL INSPIRATION FOR WOMEN

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

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

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

James Williams 3/6/18 James Williams 3/6/18

When You Can't See God Working

I love running, but can't stand treadmills. I can't get past the idea of putting in so much work, sweat, and tears without actually going anywhere. I need to distract myself from my inability to breathe, and staring at the same room doesn't do the trick. If the weather forces me to run inside, I usually get bored and cut my workout short.

Sometimes life feels the same way. With great effort, I'm accomplishing tasks and taking care of business, but can't shake nagging questions like, "Am I going anywhere? What is God doing in my life?"

Do you wonder if God is at work in your life? You feel like you're going through the motions, yet God's hand seems to have vanished.

SUBTLE SIGNS OF THE SOVEREIGN KING

Faith is "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (Heb. 11:1). Therefore, if we are walking by faith, we are trusting in a work of God we can’t always see. While we can't always see his hand at work, Scripture tells us the Almighty's providence is always in effect. One of the most vivid illustrations of this is in the book of Esther.

God's invisible, sovereign hand operates all throughout the book. Interestingly, Esther is one of two books in the Bible that doesn't explicitly mention God. Yet he is an inescapable reality woven through the details and ironies of the story. Instead of telling you that God is at work, the author simply shows you.

Esther begins with a seemingly irrelevant story about a queen who disobeys the king, then loses her crown. The king begins looking for a new queen, and Esther is one of many ladies up for the position. She happens to be a Jew (but the king doesn't know it), she happens to be beautiful, and she happens to win the favor of the king.

However, it doesn't take long for a threat to arise. It comes from the prideful villain, Haman.

Mordecai, who happens to be the new queen's cousin, is the source of Haman's wrath. While everyone else is bowing down to Haman, Mordecai refuses. Once Haman finds out Mordecai is a Jew, he manipulates the king, producing a decree that targets the Jews.

FOR SUCH A TIME AS THIS

It's at this point in the story that Mordecai tells Esther that she has become queen "for such a time as this" (Esther 4:14). What does he mean?

Mordecai displays faith in God's sovereignty and ability to keep his promises. He encourages Esther that perhaps all the events of her life have led her to this moment. What seemed like coincidence, chance, or just plain luck was actually the work of God's hand.

When it seemed like God wasn't doing much, he was actually very much at work. That's why Mordecai tells Esther that if she won't help the Jews, deliverance will come another way. He knows God is going to deliver his people; he's just waiting to see how.

THE INVISIBLE HAND OF GOD

How will God save his people? Maybe, as he did in Egypt, he'll send plagues and show the rulers that they should let God’s people go. We know from the Exodus account that God can work this way.

But one thing we learn from Esther is that God doesn’t always work so visibly. Sometimes he guides the course of history through seemingly ordinary circumstances and events.

He takes an orphan, Esther, and puts her in a position to save the people of God. As the Lord was working out his plan, Esther might not have realized what he was doing or that he was working at all.

Was God at work? Or was it simply a coincidence that Esther came to power right before the attempted annihilation of the Jews? Was it just good fortune that she happened to be a Jew and never told anyone? Maybe the stars aligned just right so she would find favor with the king, be allowed to present her request, and that he would then listen!

The author shows the absurdity of believing that all the details just happened to fall into place. Someone was guiding it. God was working out his plan to save his people by getting Esther in place "for such a time as this."

DON'T OVERLOOK THE ORDINARY

If we're not paying attention, we might miss it. Whether it's reading Esther or looking at our own lives, we might overlook the work of God simply because it's ordinary. While we're keeping our eyes open for something extraordinary, we miss the everyday movement of his invisible hand.

As we go through life, we're often stressed by the difficulties. We cry out for a miracle but, when we open our eyes, the burden is still there. The marriage is still hard, finances are a struggle, or there's still unease regarding a certain situation.

There's no grand miracle, no angel showing up in a bright light, no chariot that comes from the heavens and wipes away our enemies. Then we wonder where God is and why he has not answered our prayers.

But, in those moments, don't mistake God's invisible hand for an absent hand. Don't mistake God's ordinary work for no work at all.

WALK BY FAITH, NOT BY SIGHT

Maybe that's what it means to "walk by faith and not by sight" (2 Cor. 5:7). I can see God's hand at work when the seas split and the giants fall, but my faith is really put to the test when it's not so apparent.

Do I trust God? Do I believe he is still at work, that he hasn't left his throne, that he is still working things out for my good and his glory? Or do I give myself over to despair and unbelief?

By the end of the book, Esther remains queen, Haman has been executed on the very gallows he made for Mordecai, Mordecai has been promoted to Haman's position, and the Jews have put to death all their enemies on the very day they were supposed to be annihilated.

Against all odds, the Jewish people have been delivered. Chance? Absolutely not.

Believer, trust God even when you can't see him at work. Walk by faith and not by sight. He is working, so continue to run with endurance the race that is set before you (Heb. 12:1). Prayerfully consider how the Lord might be molding and conforming you into the image of Christ. Be encouraged and trust.

And, as you trust, worship him and thank him for guiding you with his invisible, sovereign hand.

James Williams has served as an Associate Pastor at FBC Atlanta, TX since 2013. He is married to Jenny and they have three children and are actively involved in foster care. He is in the dissertation stage of a PhD in Systematic Theology. You can follow James Twitter or his blog where he writes regularly.

Mike Phay 3/4/18 Mike Phay 3/4/18

Two Roads Diverged in a Garden

My heels backed up to the edge of a twenty-five feet high wooden platform just large enough to accommodate two people. My shirt was drenched with sweat. My muscles shook from adrenaline and fatigue, the effects of several ropes-course obstacles. We were attached to a tall, pencil-like tree swaying in the breeze. Jeff, the course facilitator, tethered me into the final element of the course—the zip line. He challenged me to not simply ride the zip line to safety, but to face my fear of losing control by crossing my arms over my chest and falling backward. The tether would catch me and the zip line would take care of the rest. This “trust fall” would only work if I resisted the instinct to grab the tether.

I wasn’t interested in Jeff’s challenge.

Without hesitation, I looked Jeff in the eyes, said, “No thanks,” grabbed the tether, and eased my weight onto the zip line for a controlled ride to the ground.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you trust God?”

Jeff’s question came as a shock—a blatant undressing of my vulnerability and weakness. My fear of heights was obvious, laying bare my desire for control. I had a choice: to close my fist and grab the tether, or open my hand and trust.

My preference for control won, and I zipped away, grasping the tether—and my sense of control.

TWO WILLS DIVERGED IN A GARDEN

Humanity’s first battle for control took place in a garden, provoked by the ancient serpent’s deceitful words: “God knows that when you eat of [the tree of the knowledge of good and evil] your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Gen. 3:5).

Until this point in time, human will had been aligned to the divine will in a relationship of trust and obedience. Now Eve stood on the precipice of a new possibility—an alternative path where she was in control. Would she choose trust or control, an open hand or a closed fist?

Eve saw the fruit of the forbidden tree as desirable “to make one wise” (Gen. 3:6), and she took some of its fruit and ate, sharing it with Adam, her husband. Eve and Adam chose the closed fist of control.

This act of disobedience resulted in the divergence of human and divine wills, changing the course of history. Our battle for control had begun.

THE ILLUSION OF CONTROL

The “opening of their eyes” to a world of wisdom awakened Adam and Eve to their nakedness and vulnerability. They quickly fashioned coverings for themselves. A relationship with God, once marked by trust and obedience, was instantly undermined. All for the sake of control.

Like our first parents, we are experts at constructing coverings to hide our vulnerability. Setting out to deceive others, we unintentionally deceive ourselves with our homemade fig leaves. We take comfort in this deception since it helps us feel in control, but in the end, it’s only an illusion.

As descendants of the Fall, we fabricate worlds of control, attempting to keep life’s struggles—suffering, sickness, loss, tragedy, grief—at arm's length. But sickness and death don’t make appointments. Loss and tragedy don’t submit to our parameters. Whenever the unexpected comes crashing into our lives, we can hardly handle it. We become confused and shell-shocked, angry and bitter like our lives are out of control.

NOT WHAT I WILL, BUT WHAT YOU WILL

This great battle of control we find ourselves in came to a head in another garden:

“And they went to a place called Gethsemane. And [Jesus] said to his disciples, ‘Sit here while I pray,’ And he took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be greatly distressed and troubled. And he said to them, ‘My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Remain here and watch.’ And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. And he said, ‘Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.’” – Mark 14:32-36

Jesus, like Eve, had a choice before him. Not a fruit, but a cup—the cup of God’s wrath. Before Jesus drank from it, he held it in his hands, considering an alternative path. He wrestled with his Father, struggling to the point of blood and tears (see Luke 22:44), saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me” (Luke 22:42).

Human and divine wills tragically diverged in the first garden. But the result would not be the same here. The open-handed will of the Son—not grasping for control (Phil. 2:6), ever obedient to his Father (John 5:19)—changed the course of history when he said, “Yet not what I will, but what you will.”

Jesus’ words of submission are not a request, but a statement of fact. They are the clear-eyed recognition of the indomitable supremacy of the Father’s will over man-made illusions. Jesus considered every alternate reality and possible future in which human wills could supersede the divine will—and rejected them outright, even though it meant drinking the cup of wrath.

LOSING CONTROL IS AN OPPORTUNITY TO GROW

Our lives of comfort and safety are nothing but smoke and mirrors. We are actually closest to reality when we lose control. Losing control removes the veil from our eyes, clearing the illusion so we see our situation for what it is.

On that high ropes course, I took comfort in every bit of control I could find. The experience helped me recognize my unrelenting desire for control, my delusion that I could be like God. But there is only one God, and he is in control. And my will can only be aligned with his when I trust him.

Our greatest opportunities for growth come in the most difficult circumstances. By removing our sense of control—even if just for a moment—God grants us a chance to recognize our illusions of control. These moments are opportunities to open our clenched fists in trust and submission.

When we lay down control, we let go of something that never belonged to us anyway.

Mike Phay serves as Lead Pastor at FBC Prineville (Oregon) and as a Staff Writer at Gospel-Centered Discipleship. He has been married to Keri for over 20 years, and they have five amazing kids.

J. Brian Tucker and John Koessler 3/1/18 J. Brian Tucker and John Koessler 3/1/18

One Among Many

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

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

DIVISIONS IN THE BODY IN CORINTH

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

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

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

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

IDENTIFICATION WITH CHRIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christy Britton 2/27/18 Christy Britton 2/27/18

Whose Kingdom Come?

I memorized a prayer I’m afraid to speak aloud. It calls for mutiny against myself. It goes like this: “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt. 6:10).

Paul David Tripp writes, “‘Your kingdom come’ is a dangerous prayer, for it means the death of your sovereignty.”

Not being in control is terrifying to our sinful flesh. We want what we want when we want it, how we want it, where we want it. We want the right house in the right neighborhood next to the right school.

But for believers, a tension exists between our flesh and the Spirit inside us. The Spirit desires God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven, while our flesh seeks to establish our own kingdom and sovereignty.

We are to be imitators of Christ, who demonstrated perfectly how to lay aside his own will and desire the will of his Father.

THE KINGDOM OF ME

Our kingdoms reflect us. They represent our thoughts, desires, and values. If you need help identifying your kingdom, look at your bank account, your conversations, your thoughts, your activities. After your bills are paid, where do you spend money? When you lie in bed, what thoughts dominate your mind? What do you do in your spare time?

Our kingdoms exist to serve us. We rule our kingdoms and demand everyone else bow to our needs, wants, and desires. In my kingdom, comfort is foundational. I don’t want to be too hot or too cold. I like soft and stretchy clothes. I want foods to fit my moods. My kingdom has few problems, little criticism, and more resources than I need. I’ve convinced myself I could happily live in this safe and comfortable environment forever.

My kingdom exists to serve my desire for safety, comfort, and happiness. I’m the queen of my kingdom, and it’s easy to control. I spend my days ensuring the comfort I crave.

Despite the energy I put into building my kingdom, it has a fatal flaw: it doesn’t satisfy. It never could, because my own pursuits are not meant to satisfy me.

I was created for a different kingdom—a better kingdom—one beyond my control. A kingdom where I’m a servant and not a queen.

THE KINGDOM OF GOD

God’s kingdom reflects what he desires and values. It exists to bring him glory. In this kingdom, he is sovereign over all. In this kingdom, he is Lord.

The kingdom of God reveals his sovereignty over the redemption of man; it is for those who do his will (see Matt. 7:21). Glimpses of God’s kingdom are shown as all things are being made new, as we are restored to him and to each other.

God’s kingdom in heaven exists without death, crying, and pain (Rev. 21:4). His kingdom is filled with people from every tribe, tongue, and nation (Rev. 7:9). The curse is gone in God’s kingdom—there is no sin, poverty, sickness, or injustice (Rev. 22:3).

The kingdom of God will satisfy because it will bring God glory, which is what we were created to do. When we fulfill our purpose, we find our satisfaction. John Piper says, “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.” I wasn’t created to do my will; I was created to bring God glory by doing his will (John 6:38).

GIVING UP MY KINGDOM FOR GOD’S

I like my safe, comfortable, controllable kingdom. Since I'm the queen, it feels like I’m in charge. But truthfully, I’m no monarch. I’m a fool settling for temporary comfort when eternal riches and security are offered.

C.S. Lewis writes in The Weight of Glory,

“It would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

My flesh wants to build my kingdom on earth. But God has liberated me from bondage to my flesh (Rom. 6:18), and in freedom, I can choose to lay down my will for his. By his grace, I desire to give up my kingdom for his. Jim Elliot said, “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”

The Christian’s life includes a call to deny self (Matt. 16:24), but our sin keeps us focused on the present. Jonathan Edwards prayed, “Lord, stamp eternity on my eyeballs.” We would be wise to desire a kingdom mindset with eternity in view.

YOUR KINGDOM COME

His kingdom is in heaven, but it’s not yet on earth. That’s why we pray, “Your kingdom come.” John Piper says, “We should pray that every day. Bring the kingdom, Lord. It’s not here the way we want it to be. Bring your kingdom. Bring your reign fully in people’s lives, in my life, in the world.”

God is bringing his kingdom to earth through his people. As his children reflect his image, the world will see Christ’s rule. When we, like Christ, say, “Not my will, but yours, be done (Luke 22:42),” the kingdom of heaven is made visible.

Church, we need to pray boldly, “Your kingdom come, your will be done.” We must die to ourselves. Let’s seek the destruction of our kingdoms as we realize his and live for his glory (Matt. 6:33).

God’s kingdom is coming. He will rule fully on earth as he does in heaven. And those who destroy their kingdoms to seek his will reign with him forever (Rev. 22:5).

Christy Britton is a wife, homeschool mom of four biological sons, and soon-to-be mom of an adopted Ugandan daughter. She is an orphan advocate for 127 Worldwide. Her family is covenant members at Imago Dei Church in Raleigh, N.C. She loves reading, discipleship, spending time in Africa, hospitality, and LSU football. She writes for various blogs including her own, beneedywell.com.

Rachelle Cox 2/25/18 Rachelle Cox 2/25/18

Overeating and Undernourished: How Binge Eating Leaves You Starving for Christ

February is my least favorite month of the year. It's when I'm reminded of the resolutions I failed to achieve. Over the years, I resolved to quit many of life’s nastiest habits. I’ve kicked addictions to pornography, cigarettes, blowing up my credit cards, and more. But there’s still one habit I have yet to break: binge eating.

Forty-five percent of America’s resolution-makers vow to shape up and cut back on eating every New Year. I’m always one of them. My first thirty-one days of 2018 consisted of meal planning, counting calories, and lusting over the cake I swore off.

But before Valentine’s Day, my eating habits were as out of control as ever.

I’m not sure if my dependence on pizza and frosting is proportional to Paul’s “thorn in the flesh”, but it sure feels that way to me. It seems like I’ve spent my entire adult life harassed by intense cravings for food, with little hope for victory. While Paul asked for God to remove his own affliction three times, this is my tenth year of pleading. A decade of defeat would make the most determined among us feel hopeless.

Will I ever be free from this compulsion to overeat?

CALL IT WHAT IT IS

Binge eating is more than the simple overeating everyone engages in from time to time.

For me, a typical binge session looks like a very large meal, followed by an even larger dessert. Then when I begin to feel nauseated, I eat a few more desserts and sneak back to the fridge to consume more unclaimed leftovers. Multiply this ritual by five, add a secret drive-through visit, and you’ve got the standard daily recipe for a binge eater.

Doctors categorize my behavior as a type of eating disorder. The Bible calls it gluttony.

"Gluttony" sounds harsh when spoken out loud, so most of us don’t say it at all. Of all the sins churches discuss on Sunday, gluttony is rarely expanded upon. It seems odd given that American obesity is such a hot topic, but unsurprising when you consider the amount of shame most gluttons carry around with them.

Gluttons are bruised reeds. Nobody wants to break us with an unkind word or an accusatory glance over supper. So Christians tend to stay silent when they see a brother or sister overeating.

To complicate matters more, not every person with an above-average weight is a glutton, and not every glutton is overweight. You likely know several thin gluttons, and I’ve met many thick folks with rational eating patterns.

But how does the Bible define gluttony?

GETTING TO THE HEART OF GLUTTONY

The Biblical definition of gluttony doesn’t appear to be as simple as enjoying food, eating rich food, or even consuming a lot of food. We see countless depictions of elaborate feasts in both the Old and New Testaments.

The Levites in Nehemiah 8 received instructions to eat and drink with joy as an act of worship. The book of Acts describes the early church breaking bread together in grateful community and service to one another. Meals have the power to build community, celebrate great victories and worship the God who provides it all.

When our worship is directed towards food rather than God, none of these things apply, indicating that the problem with gluttony is not our waistline or even the exact amount of calories we eat—but hearts bent towards idolatry. The idol of the stomach leads us to eat meals in secret shame and celebrate created things rather than the Creator.

Solomon spoke about gluttony leading to both practical and spiritual poverty in the book of Proverbs, something I’ve experienced firsthand. Not only has my wallet suffered at the altar of McDonald’s, but I feel spiritually impoverished when I overeat.

While there’s nothing wrong with tangible diet plans and exercise to improve upon the physical effects of sin, addressing the impoverished heart is the only plan that truly releases us from the shame of gluttony.

HOPE IN A BETTER FEAST

How should Christians fight the urge to overeat and find hope when their resolutions don’t stick? By hoping for a better feast.

There is a better feast that awaits every man and woman who struggles with overeating. There is great forgiveness and hope for people like me in the Bible.

Revelation is not where a glutton would think to look for a diet plan, but among depictions of burning lakes and apocalyptic beasts in chapter 19 is a deep well of hope for someone like me:

“Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out,

'Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure'— for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.

And the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” And he said to me, “These are the true words of God.” – Rev. 19:6-9

I don’t know if all the food imagery found in Revelation is literal or figurative. I don’t know if there will be an actual table with physical food piled upon it. But I hope more than anything that this feast is real in a tangible sense. Not because I’m excited about heavenly catering, but because at the consummation of all things, Jesus Christ himself will celebrate eternal union with his bride and welcome her to his wedding feast—me included.

TAKE YOUR SEAT AT THE WEDDING SUPPER

Despite years of sinning with my stomach, the King of Kings will offer me a seat at his table just as if I never binged a day in my life. On that day and for the rest of eternity, I will eat food in exactly the manner God intended, filled with worship for the Creator instead of worshipping created things. I’ll share a meal in perfect community with my brothers and sisters and my Lord rather than inhaling food in disgraced secrecy.

If you must make yet another resolution centered around food, resolve to believe in this wedding feast, living every day as if it were real.

When you experience great loss and hope to deaden the sorrow with take-out, remember the greater joy that awaits you when the groom clothes his bride in white.

When you think excess food will give you peace of mind, imagine the perfect peace you’ll have on the day of the marriage supper of the Lamb—and remember that if you follow the Lamb you will have a seat reserved just for you.

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 eachpassingphase.com.

Guest User 2/22/18 Guest User 2/22/18

How Jesus Fulfills the Roles of Moses

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

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

THE ROLES OF MOSES IN THE EXODUS STORY

1. Prophet

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

2. Deliverer

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

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

3. Lawgiver

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

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

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

JESUS AND THE ROLES OF MOSES

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

1. Jesus is the final Prophet

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

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

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

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

2. Jesus is the final Deliverer

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

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

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

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

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

3. Jesus is the final Lawgiver

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

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

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

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

FINAL SALVATION IN JESUS

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

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

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

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

Cody Cunningham 2/20/18 Cody Cunningham 2/20/18

God Loves Me—Right?

The worship band starts up and you sing lyrics you’ve heard a hundred times before: “How deep the Father’s love for us, how vast beyond all measure, that he should give his only Son, To make a wretch his treasure.” But the words catch in your throat.

You don’t feel like a treasure. In fact, you haven’t felt God’s love at all lately.

IS GOD’S LOVE EQUAL?

You would never say God doesn’t love you, but you’re not sure he loves you as much as someone like Charles Spurgeon, William Carey, or even the people up front leading the music. They've served God in obvious ways, so God is probably more accepting of them, right?

Maybe you’re tempted to believe there are two levels of God’s love. First, the love that exists between Father, Son, and Spirit. This love is eternal and perfect, the fullness of what our earthly love points to. This is the deluxe package of God’s love. Second is God's love for us. You know, the basic package.

We feel like there’s a difference between God's love for his Son and his adopted children like some wrongly believe that parents have a greater love for their biological children than their adopted ones. But Jesus speaks a better word to us.

God doesn’t just love you as much as any other brother or sister—he loves you as much as he loves his Son.

JESUS’ COMFORTING SPIRIT

Jesus describes the Father’s love for him—and for us—in John 14. Sensing the disciples' uneasiness as he discusses his return to the Father, the Savior comforts his followers with a promise: "I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you" (John 14:18).

How will Jesus come to them while he’s in heaven? Through his Spirit. The sending of the Spirit unites believers to Jesus. That Spirit signals to the disciples, and to us, that we’re not alone: "In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you" (John 14:20).

Jesus’ ascension and the giving of his Spirit are testimonies that God has not left us alone. Our triune God has broken into this sin-wrecked world in order to reclaim his people.

Jesus did not merely accomplish his earthly work and then tell the disciples, "Y'all stay strong. I'll see you when you die or when I return." The Father sent the Spirit to unite us to Jesus, to conform us to the image of Jesus, and to hold us firmly to the hope that is in Jesus.

If you possess the Spirit of Jesus, then you possess the unadulterated, unfiltered love of God.

HOLY AND BLAMELESS

God does not begrudgingly forgive you. He won’t stand with arms crossed at the gates of the new heavens and new earth with a frown as you sulk by. Those three words—"you in me"—are a glorious promise that what is true of Jesus is true of us. Our sin has been taken away and when God looks at you, he sees Jesus, who is "holy and blameless" (Eph. 1:4).

At the beginning of John 14, Jesus assures his followers:

Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also (John 14:1-3).

Did you catch that? The disciples are anxious about Jesus’ departure and fear what’s next. He comforts them by assuring them they will dwell in the Father’s house. Not in some rickety shack out back; no cupboard beneath the staircase. We are promised a room of our own in our Father’s house with our brother Jesus.

SONS AND DAUGHTERS

When we come before the Father, we do not come as mere servants of his Son; we come as sons and daughters ourselves, not because we are by nature sons and daughters, but because we have been wrapped in Jesus’ sonship.

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God (Gal. 4:4-7).

What does this mean for our fellowship with God? It means you don't get the scraps of God's love. You get the prime cut. When you’re brought into union with Jesus, you are united in love with the eternal fellowship of Father, Son, and Spirit.

Sure, we’re still sinful people, and there will be a day when we experience that fellowship to a greater degree. But you can rest today in the promise that you share in this triune fellowship.

This is why Christians are called to live a life of holiness. Those who have tasted from the pure waters of triune fellowship are foolish to return to the stale, festering waters of sinful desires.

“You shall be holy, for I am holy,” is not a burden to shoulder, but a result that flows from being caught up in the divine love of Father, Son, and Spirit. But we’re prone to forget the beauty of heavenly love, choosing instead to chase pale imitations of it through relationships, possessions, and experiences that only bring disappointment and despair.

REMIND YOURSELF OF GOD’S LOVE

If you long for God’s love, remind yourself:

Christ himself mediates every prayer you utter (Rom. 8:34).
God is not an absentee Father; he has made himself known through his Word.
Your church is a proclamation of God’s love represented as a family comprised of brothers and sisters from every nation, tongue, and tribe, all equipped with spiritual gifts.
God demonstrates his faithfulness through every sunset, sunrise, and rainbow. It is the daily soundtrack that God “called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Pet. 2:9).

If Satan throws the fiery darts of shame and guilt at you, don’t despair. There’s an empty tomb that speaks a better word than your guilt. It speaks of redemption and grace. It speaks of forgiveness. It speaks of love.

As Psalm 136:26 says, “Give thanks to the God of heaven, for his steadfast love endures forever.”

Cody Cunningham is one of the pastors of Immanuel Community Church in New Orleans, Louisiana. He also is on staff with Reaching and Teaching International Ministries, an organization that provides theological education for pastors overseas. In addition, Cody is a husband, dad, avid reader, and coffee lover. You can read his other writings at codycunningham.com.

Zach Barnhart 2/18/18 Zach Barnhart 2/18/18

The FOMO You Should Really Fear

These days, it seems like there are fewer things that unite us than divide us. But there is one thing we share in common: we all hate the thought of missing out. We hate the thought so much that we had to come up with an acronym to identify the feeling—FOMO. An acronym for Fear of Missing Out, FOMO is a shorthand way of expressing our fear of being forgotten or ignored. For example, for pastor-nerds like me, FOMO is the anxiety I get when I miss a big parachurch conference everyone’s posting and tweeting about. FOMO affects the places we go, the people we engage, the things we purchase, the media we consume—everything.

But what if I told you that FOMO is simply fear misplaced? And that missing out is actually a good thing for your spiritual life?

HOW MISSING OUT IS GOOD FOR YOUR SPIRITUAL LIFE

To understand how missing out is actually a good thing for your spiritual life, we first have to know what the aim of spiritual life is. When someone places their faith in Christ, they are saved and called “to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus” (2 Tim. 1:9; cf. 1 Thess. 4:7). For the Christian, their “new self” in Christ is to be characterized by holiness (Eph. 4:24). Remarkably, we have been graciously invited to “share in his holiness” (Heb. 12:10).

J.I. Packer has said, “The nature of holiness is transformation through consecration.” Two things happen when Christ makes us holy: we are transformed and consecrated. But transformed into what, exactly? And consecrated from what?

One of the undeniable implications of pursuing authentic, Christian holiness is doing without certain things—missing out on some of what we used to enjoy as we set aside ourselves for honorable use in the Kingdom (consecration), so that we can be transformed into the image of Christ (transformation). The apostle Peter explains that holiness is not only a personal transformation to a new self (1 Pet. 1:14-15) but also a communal consecration to a new people (1 Pet. 2:9).

FOMO is one of the most urgent holiness problems facing us today. It causes many of us to participate in things that belong to our old self or our old environment. We’re tempted to chalk it up to “sin nature.” We explain away our being “of the world” as really an attempt to be “in the world” for Christ. When we cave to the fear, it interrupts the process of our transformation.

The Christian’s life simply cannot look the same as it once did, but missing out on the things that caused us to sin before Christ is good. Missing out on the destructive things the world tells us we need is good.

THE FOMO YOU SHOULD REALLY FEAR

There is a FOMO that's far more haunting and serious. The worst FOMO of all is thinking that we’ve been living the Christian life when we haven’t. It can be startling, horrifying even, to read Jesus’ final words of warning in the Sermon on the Mount:

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness’” (Matt. 7:21-23).

What greater horror is there than realizing you've bought the lie that new life in Christ means your life doesn’t have to look that much different? That salvation in Christ is only theoretical and not practical?

We’re all afraid to miss out on the next big thing or that cool experience everyone else is having. But these are simply misplaced fears. Instead, we should fear missing out on the Kingdom of God.

HOW TO KILL FOMO AND ENJOY MISSING OUT

How do we move past the temporal fears of missing out and start to enjoy the process of transformation Jesus is doing in us? Here are some ways we can kill FOMO.

Realize that being out of “the know” isn’t always a bad thing

None of us likes to feel uninformed. But I’m afraid we (myself included) are so immersed in the world’s happenings that we are hopelessly entangled in the “craving for controversy and for quarrels about words” (1 Tim. 6:4) that defines our daily news. This is one of the reasons social media and FOMO are so dangerous. We lament the hot-takes on Twitter yet we choose to throw ourselves into it every opportunity we get, doing the very thing we hate (Rom 7:15)! Start a routine of taking extended time away from social media or whatever puts FOMO in front of you. Doing so will refresh your soul and put out any growing fires of “envy, dissension, slander, and evil suspicions” in us (1 Tim. 6:4).

Fill the empty space

Just like removing fatty foods and sugary sodas from our diet and replacing them with healthy alternatives leads to physical health, choosing to miss out on what’s spiritually “unhealthy” and replacing it with what’s nourishing and strengthening will be to our long-term benefit. Imagine being more enraptured by the narrative of Scripture than, say, the latest episode of Game of Thrones. And imagine what it could do for your soul to make the switch.

Remember that your spiritual heroes did without

Do you admire the example of your lead pastor, an elder, your mentor, Charles Spurgeon, or another hero of the faith? Look closely and you’ll find that they have chosen to miss out on some things for the sake of Christian holiness. If they’re alive, ask them what steps they took to be in the world and not of it. Learn from their example. Ask for accountability. And ask what they gained in return.

IS IT WORTH IT?

When you do without, people notice. As mentioned above, we should not pursue holiness for the sake of people noticing us. But a natural byproduct of being set apart is being a city on a hill. This is most effective when in close proximity to people who get to experience our habits up close and personal, who get to see a transformation right before their eyes. And oftentimes, they want what you have.

In the end, missing out for the sake of Christ isn’t missing out at all. That’s because Jesus is satisfying and in his Kingdom, there is no missing out because there is no better place to be. Each of us will one day face the holy God of the universe and be called to account.

Until that day comes, I pray I won’t miss out on the riches of knowing him, following him, and sharing in his holiness in these days—even if that means I may miss out on something else.

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.

Joy Beth Smith 2/15/18 Joy Beth Smith 2/15/18

Marriage Is Different—Not Better Than Singleness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jody Ponce 2/13/18 Jody Ponce 2/13/18

She Went from Destitute to Daughter—and So Can You

Before Cinderella was the most sought-after footwear model in all the land, she was a despised maid. She was a mistreated, neglected stepdaughter forced to tend to her bratty sisters. This part of Cinderella's story highlights something many of us struggle with: shame—particularly, the shame that comes from being shunned. Whether it’s a high school clique that keeps you from sitting at their table or an evil stepmother who treats you cruelly, no one wants to feel despised.

Cinderella’s story points us to an older, richer one that also features a destitute woman. This woman, whose name we don’t know, had a physical reminder of her isolation—a continual flow of blood.

PORTRAIT OF A DESTITUTE WOMAN

Her condition made her unclean in the Roman-era Jewish culture. According to Jewish law, every woman was considered unclean during the period of her menstruation. This meant that no one could touch them because they would also be made unclean. If the menstruating woman sat on a chair, it became unclean and nobody else could sit on it, or they would become unclean. This poor woman had a perpetual menstrual flow, so she was perpetually unclean.

Therefore, she would have likely lived separately from everyone. She couldn’t be touched by anyone. If she were a young woman when she contracted this condition, she would never have been able to be married or have a family. If it happened later in her life, after she had a family, she would never have been able to touch her children, hug them or comfort them in her arms, or even hold their little hands. This condition had ruined her life and she was desperate to be healed from it.

She had subjected herself to painful procedures with multiple doctors, yet she had only grown worse. Her humiliation, rejection, and degradation must have been completely devastating.

But that wasn’t the end of her story.

A SICK GIRL AND A DESTITUTE WOMAN

The poor woman’s story begins as an interruption to the narrative of Jairus and his sick daughter (Mark 5:21-24; 5:35-43), but the two stories are intertwined. Jairus’ daughter was twelve years old and the bleeding woman had suffered for twelve years, though both parties were desperate for healing. Jairus was the leader of the synagogue, a well-known and respected man. He acted as a powerful advocate for his daughter by pleading with Jesus for her life. The destitute woman had no one to advocate for her.

Even still, somewhere in her broken life a glimmer of hope still flickered. So desperate was she for healing, that on hearing of Jesus’s power and that he was passing through her town, she risked everything to go and touch him.

She would have had to cover her face and sneak out of her house. When she entered the crowd, she would have made everyone she touched unclean. Had she been discovered, she could have been stoned. But still, she pressed on and pressed in through the crowd, nearer and nearer to Jesus.

As Jesus walked to Jairus’ house to heal his child, the bleeding woman pushed her way through the crowd, reached out, and touched the hem of his robe.

Immediately, she was healed.

THE GOSPEL HEALS AND ADOPTS

As this healing is taking place, we can imagine Jairus is eager for Jesus to hurry up so he can come and heal his daughter. Jesus, however, takes his time with this woman, even while the young daughter's life is hanging in the balance. Jesus’ unhurried approach shows that God has equal time and power for all. No one is more important to him than anyone else.

The beauty of this story, which captures so much of the gospel, is that Jesus wills that no one should perish, but that all should come to eternal life (John 3:16-17; 1 Tim. 2:4). Here, Jesus stops in the middle of a lifesaving mission for an important man’s daughter and heals an unknown, nameless, rejected, and unclean woman. He healed not only her physical ailment but her deeper, spiritual ailment as well. And he accepted her in a way she had never even dreamed of by calling her “daughter” (Mark 5:34).

The gospel heals and adopts. It heals us of our spiritual ailment—sin—and adopts us into the family of God (see Eph. 1:5).

The love of God stretches infinitely; it reaches into the hearts and lives of every person despite their social status, nationality, income, gender, or renown (Gal. 3:28). This is the gospel, the good news of Jesus Christ.

JESUS KNOWS YOUR NEED BETTER THAN YOU DO

The destitute woman’s faith was probably influenced by superstition. She had likely heard that some people believed Jesus to be the Messiah. There was a widely held belief at the time that if a person touched a tassel on the Messiah’s garment that person would be healed. Desperately holding onto this belief, the woman kept pressing in until she touched the clothes of Jesus.

And she was healed! This was all her dreams come true! All the suffering, all the doctors, all the years of isolation, rejection, and pain, came to an end the moment of her healing. As soon as she received healing for her greatest need, she turned to flee for home, intending to leave in obscurity. But Jesus had a different plan.

REDEEMED AS A DAUGHTER

Jesus understood the woman’s true need in a way she didn’t comprehend. And so, he calls her out of the crowd, saying, “Who touched me?” And she stopped.

Why didn’t she just keep running? Why did she stop and come back? Well, because it’s hard to run when the voice of God is calling you. The same voice that called Lazarus out of the grave called to this unknown, desperate woman, and at the sound of Jesus’s voice, she fell at his feet, trembling in fear, and told him the whole truth.

After she confesses, Jesus does something unheard of, yet wonderful—he reached down and touched her. The purest, most righteous man to have ever lived touched the unclean woman, claiming her as his own. The word “daughter” that Jesus uses here is a term of the most intimate endearment. It would never be used with a stranger. He uses it nowhere else in the gospels.

Jesus adopted this nameless woman into his family. He touched her uncleanness and called her precious daughter, and then he told her to go in peace.

When something dirty is touched by something clean, the clean thing becomes dirty. If you clean your car with a white rag, the rag will soon be black. Jesus took our “uncleanness,” to the cross with him. He became the dirty rag which washed us clean, and just like the woman in this story, he accepted us into his family.

While she had desperately wanted healing, and had thought that was her greatest need, Jesus knew the true needs of her life. He gave her public acceptance, healing, and peace. He called her “daughter.”

FLESH PRESSES, FAITH TOUCHES

This story shows us that God knows our needs better than we do. We may come to him imperfectly, as this woman did, not truly seeking to know him more but to lay hold of an answer to prayer. Yet he is still willing to accept us.

Augustine writes,

“Flesh presses, faith touches. He can always distinguish between the jostle of a curious mob and the agonized touch of a needy soul.”^[1]

If your need is great enough to make you sincerely and desperately turn to God, if you, like this woman, will risk everything just to reach out and touch Jesus, he will meet your needs and more.

He will be your Savior. He will deliver you from your shame.

^[1]Quoted from George Campbell Morgan, The Gospel According to Mark, (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 1927), 127.

Jody Ponce is on the women's ministry team in Calvary Cork, Ireland. She is married to Ricky Ponce, and she is the mother of three young children.

Sean Nolan 2/11/18 Sean Nolan 2/11/18

Trade Your Cinderblock for The Rock of Ages

“And by your grace, I will live for you.” I remember praying these words—but not meaning them. At the age of nineteen, my then-girlfriend led me to Christ and I renounced the atheism of my earlier years. Those words—“And by your grace, I will live for you”—were the conclusion to the “sinner’s prayer” that marked my conversion. Every sentence leading up to that one I said with gusto. But this sentence was choked out, forced.

Like so many “professions of faith,” I was parroting lines given to me by my evangelist. So after saying, “Amen,” I followed up with her: “I’m not sure I’m up for the ‘living for Jesus’ part.”

DIME-STORE DISCIPLESHIP

She replied: “It doesn’t mean you have to give up everything you love; you’ll just want to do them for God and not for yourself.” I shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.” But deep down, I was unconvinced. I played in a punk band and I was not willing to give that up, even though I knew our gimmick was at odds with the Christian life (our album title, “Menace to Sobriety,” was an appropriate summary of our message).

For the next three years, I tried a dime-store imitation of discipleship—Jesus as Savior, myself as lord. I wanted to make a deal: Jesus, you die for me, but I refuse to live for you. I didn’t give Jesus my life, just my afterlife. I wanted an afterlife free from suffering, but a life with all the pleasures sin could provide. The only problem with this bargain is that grace so cheap (to borrow a term from Bonhoeffer) is really no grace at all.

We cannot “baptize” our existing sinful desires by blessing them in the name of God. The drunkard who converts to Christianity and returns to his booze with gratitude, thanking God for this “gift,” is no convert at all. We need our distorted desires to be expunged by a more captivating desire for Christ. We need to understand both our sin and his love in order to become true followers of Christ.

THE RAT RACE OF IDOLATRY

Jesus used a striking illustration for the seriousness of causing others to sin. He said it’s actually better to have a millstone tied around your neck and go for a “swim” in the Mediterranean Sea (Mark 9:42)! He then gives us several other extreme examples about keeping ourselves from the things that keep us from God (Mark 9:43-50).

How seriously do you take your sin? Your sin—and make no mistake, any false god (idol) we serve is sin—is bound to drown you. Holding onto your sin is like trying to tread water while holding a cinderblock in your hands.

For the next three years, I tried to be the lord of my life while claiming to be a Christian, and the futility of idolatry became more and more clear to me. When we serve idols we become their slaves (John 8:34). I’d be happy, I told myself, if I could just play CBGBs. When that goal was realized, it never fulfilled, so I’d create a new one.

Entrusting myself to the idols I served—this is the rat race of idolatry. We exchange the true God for a lie and worship creation instead (Rom. 1:24) of Creator. This never leaves us satisfied (Jer. 2:13), not in the long run, yet we return to our overlords once again, expecting a different result. The cycle repeats ad infinitum. If it sounds like insanity, that’s because it is.

DISTORTED TASTES

The alcoholic knows his drink of choice is drowning him; he simply can’t slake the desires of his tongue with anything other than booze. The tongue wants what the tongue wants. We can’t simply starve our desires and expect to be satisfied.

To tire of our taste for sin, we need to acquire a taste for something new (Ps. 34:8). We need new tastes entirely, like the thirsty woman of Samaria who found Jesus so utterly satisfying to her palate that she dropped her water jug at the well (John 4:28). Our desire for lesser gods can only be overcome when a desire for the true God (Ps. 27:4) eclipses them.

We need something from outside to break that cycle if we’re ever going to be set free from slavery (John 8:32). Praise God that he has sent us the remedy to this terminal disease (Is. 53:5)! Jesus came to shake us out of the drunken, circular stupor of idolatry. He calls us to exchange the backbreaking burdens of our sinful idolatry for his life-giving, light yoke of discipleship (Matt. 11:30). He invites us to trade our taste for sin that never satisfies for his living water that never stops satisfying.

The functional saviors we cling to for life are, in actuality, no saviors at all. While they promise us deliverance, behind the veneer of power and pleasure, lies only death (Rom. 3:23). Like drowning men clutching cinderblocks, we hold on to our idols as they drag us to the bottom of the sea (Jonah 2:5).

Jesus stands there—a lifesaver!—but in order to grab onto him, we must let go of the cinderblocks. Otherwise, we perish.

A CINDERBLOCK-TAKING SAVIOR

The decision to follow Christ is costly and hard (Matt. 7:14), and should not be made lightly (Luke 14:28). We must be willing to exchange our ugly sin for the beauty of our Savior (Luke 14:33).

The good news is this: Jesus, while never yielding to the temptation to worship these false saviors, suffered the full brunt of the consequences for doing so. Though he never sinned (Heb. 4:15), he suffered on the cross for all of my sin (2 Cor. 5:21).

If the consequence for clinging to a cinderblock in the ocean is to drown, Jesus grabbed the cinderblock and held on until he breathed his last (Mark 15:37) so that we could breathe in the living God (John 20:22). The cross he bore, he bore for me.

Jesus is a patient, long-suffering, determined searcher of the lost sheep for which he came to die. The grace he offers is not cheap because it cost him his very life. Every drop of his precious, unblemished blood was required to make payment for sin.

My thirst for punk rock fame could only be put to death by understanding the depth of his love for me. He was thirsty (John 19:28) so that I never have to be (John 7:38). I don’t have to keep returning to a broken cistern; he is enough for me (Jer. 2:13).

THE BARGAIN OF GRACE

Once we begin to come to grips with how costly it was for Jesus to acquire us (Phil. 2:8), we gain a new perspective on how little we are actually giving up in return. When he calls us to pick up our cross and follow him (Luke 9:23), it is a call to death. But in putting ourselves to death, we are promised new life (Rom. 6:4)!

That new life is on the other side of the cross. If we want to follow him into glory, it means following him through pain and suffering. The way to Christ is the way of the cross. When I wanted to broker a deal with Jesus in which I gave him my afterlife but not my life, I wanted the ends without the means.^[1] If we want to be glorified with Christ in the new heavens and earth, we must cling to him in the present. He promises us trials (John 16:33), but he promises to be with us (Matt. 28:20). He promises us persecution now (John 15:20) but paradise later (Rev. 2:7); The cross now (Luke 9:23) but crowns later (James 1:12).

Jesus is better; he is worth laying down our own sinful desires. The bargain Jesus offers us is better than the dime-store bargain of the devil. Satan tempts us, saying, “deny your maker and I will make you like him and give you this world” (Luke 4:5-7). Don’t trust the master liar (John 8:44); this deal is a sham.

TRADE YOUR CINDERBLOCK FOR THE ROCK OF AGES

Renounce your idols and all their cheap promises. Instead, follow Christ, who promises we will one day rule with him as his coheirs after we suffer with him (Rom. 8:17). Lay down your life, lest it slip through your fingers. Renounce everything you have, everything you worship that is not Christ, because he is better!

So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:33)

Sometimes it’s hard to let go of the life-sucking cinderblocks; they’re all we’ve ever known, so we keep clinging to them even as we plunge toward the depths. But Christ is strong enough to lift these burdens off our back and give us his burden, instead.

His burden is the cross. The cross is death. But to die is gain because Christ is everything (Phil. 1:21).

Jesus, take these idols that drown us. Give us yourself, Jesus. You’re everything. We lay these cinderblocks down so we can be raised with the Rock of Ages.

^[1]Note the emphasis on “knew you” in Matthew 7:23.

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.

Tim Chester 2/9/18 Tim Chester 2/9/18

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

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

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

What about God? Tell me about God.

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

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

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

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

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

And God is not silent.

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

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

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

How does God talk to us? . . .

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

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

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

Elliot Toman 2/6/18 Elliot Toman 2/6/18

‘Spiritual Poverty’ is a Prerequisite to Discipleship

Our call to discipleship is founded in the Great Commission given to us by Jesus before he ascended in glory: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:16-20). The ongoing work of discipleship is to teach and demonstrate obedience to the commandments of Jesus, and the most concentrated collection of commandments we've received from him can be found in Matthew 5, 6, and 7—the Sermon on the Mount.

THE BEATITUDES AS INVITATION

The sermon begins with a collection of statements known as the Beatitudes, each beginning with the phrase, "Blessed are they . . ." Most Christians are so familiar with the Beatitudes that we forget how profoundly counterintuitive they are. Each assertion calls into question basic assumptions we hold about happiness, society, and even common sense.

It is helpful to look at the Beatitudes not as isolated statements, but as a progression of thought. It’s as if Jesus is giving us a whirlwind tour, a sneak preview, of the Kingdom of Heaven. Each beatitude represents a landmark, a step deeper into the Kingdom. We can see this because each beatitude begins with the phrase, "Blessed are they," except the final one, which starts this way: "Blessed are you." Jesus suddenly turns his eyes toward us and asks, "Are you in?"

The beatitudes are an invitation, a demonstration of what God's kingdom looks like on earth so we can decide in advance whether we are willing to accept the practical instructions—that is, commandments—given in the sermon that follows.

Take, for example, the first beatitude: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. 5:3). We may not know what "poor in spirit" means, exactly, but nobody looks at the word "poor" and sees something positive. Poverty is always regarded as negative, and reasonably so.

WHAT, EXACTLY, DOES ‘POOR IN SPIRIT’ MEAN?

As the first beatitude, we can understand spiritual poverty as being the key that opens the gate to the kingdom of heaven, which is what Jesus says. Whatever spiritual poverty is, the observation of it is the first step to being a disciple and to making disciples. And if we are to teach others to observe spiritual poverty, we must understand and demonstrate it ourselves.

Fortunately, the lesson is not as cryptic as it might seem. In my experience, we tend to look at the word "poor" and say something like, "Well, I know being poor is bad, so when Jesus uses that word, he must mean something different than actually being poor." Misguided as that is, if we say that Jesus is not merely talking about physical poverty, we can at least pat ourselves on the back for being half-right.

Something that is spiritual can be understood as being, for lack of a better word, deeper than something that is physical. For example, I can force myself to show physical kindness toward someone without actually feeling kind toward him or her in my heart. But I can't feel kindness toward someone and then treat him or her with outward, physical contempt. The spiritual attitude is deeper than the physical expression.

So when we talk about spiritual poverty, we are talking about a form of poverty that is deeper than physical poverty. What, then, is poverty?

Poverty is characterized by obvious signs: hunger, exposure, uncertainty, vulnerability. The basic defining factor of poverty is lack of choice. For example, if I have $50 in my pocket, my options for lunch are far less limited than they would be if I had $1. Or, if I wanted to travel from New York to San Francisco, a $1,000 budget would afford me far more options than a $100 budget. The defining attribute of wealth is the freedom to choose. Interestingly, this is also the fundamental privilege on which our society is based. "So," Jesus seems to say, "let's tackle that first."

Imagine a malnourished child in a third-world country, holding his hands out to passing tourists. Why does he spend his time this way? Because he has no choice. Hunger and deprivation are his hell on earth, and each pastel shirt that passes is, in that moment, his possible savior.

Imagine a single mother who works three jobs. Why does she do this? Because the deprivation of her children is her personal hell, and a little bit of overtime pay is the only salvation she can see.

WHAT SPIRITUAL POVERTY MEANS FOR FOLLOWING JESUS

In the same way that those who experience physical poverty desperately seek after physical salvation, those who experience spiritual poverty are desperate for spiritual salvation. And when we recognize the source of that salvation, we are totally committed to obtaining it. What else can we do? How else should we spend our time?

In his gospel, the apostle John recounts the story of another sermon Jesus gave; a sermon so difficult in nature that the large crowd that had been following him scattered, discouraged, to their homes. When Jesus turned to ask his apostles whether they intended to leave as well, Peter replied, "Lord, to whom else shall we go?" (John 6:68).

Jesus demonstrates right away with his first beatitude that following him won't be easy or glamorous. Like a beggar desperate for food, each of us must come to Jesus with a spirit of poverty, knowing that salvation is what we need and that Jesus is the only one who offers it. If we could somehow fabricate salvation ourselves or obtain it through our own efforts, we wouldn't need Jesus—we could make our own rules, choose our own way. But sleepless nights and hours spent under the operating scalpel of Scripture have taught us that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and no one finds salvation except through him.

3 WAYS SPIRITUAL POVERTY INFORMS DISCIPLESHIP

This sense of personal spiritual poverty offers us three crucial insights for discipleship. First, it makes us sensitive to God's mercy. Unless God first extended his hand to us through his blessed Son, we would be lost to our Creator with no hope of reconciliation (Rom. 5:8). This keeps us humble and thankful, able to recognize God's continual grace in the midst of our circumstances.

Second, spiritual poverty leads us to keep our eyes open for those who are also desperate for salvation. We know what it's like to be spiritually destitute, and our hearts break for those who, in all the complexities of life, are experiencing a similar crisis (Matt. 11:28-30).

Finally, our poverty of spirit reminds us to have compassion for the lost rather than contempt. "There but for the grace of God go I." We all are found by God in the same condition, hopelessly wallowing in sin and helpless to save ourselves (see Ezekiel 16:1-8). We are keenly aware of how empty handed we were—we are—when coming to Jesus. What, indeed, did I have to offer him? My fear? My pride? My brokenness? I came to him with hands full of bloody rags, as do we all.

ARE YOU READY TO ADMIT YOUR POVERTY?

Spiritual poverty reminds us that the deep bonds of sin and darkness that hold the world captive are one arrogant thought away from claiming us as well. Without Jesus, there is simply no telling where my self-will, insecurity, and perversion might have taken me, and might still take me if God's mercies weren't new every morning. How, then, can we show contempt for anyone lost in sin?

With each beatitude, Jesus reveals more of the Kingdom of Heaven—that very present reality in which God's kingdom comes as His will is done on earth as it is in heaven. Spiritual poverty is the key that opens the gate to that kingdom, placed in our empty and trembling hands by a Savior who wants us not only to enter, but to share the key with others as well.

Are you in?

Elliot Toman lives with his wife and four children in Kingston, New York, where he is an aspiring church planter. He spends his spare time studying the Bible, publishing comics and occasionally writing about the church and Christian life.

Justin Huffman 2/4/18 Justin Huffman 2/4/18

The Gospel Implications of The Golden Rule

"So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets" (Matt. 7:12).

This is arguably the most famous passage from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, and it is perhaps the only Bible verse you can still quote in a political or social setting without rejection or repercussion. Often called the “Golden Rule,” it is one of the few teachings of Jesus with which almost everyone agrees—at least on the surface.

Most would agree today that we should be thoughtful and considerate of others, maybe even practice “random acts of kindness” toward strangers. Tolerance—for every religion, lifestyle, and moral persuasion—is the god of our culture, and this verse is frequently quoted in order to encourage us to worship at her shrine.

Sadly, this widespread, warm-and-fuzzy reception to Jesus’ command is owed to how broadly it is misunderstood and misapplied. Consider at least three aspects of the Golden Rule that we often don’t bother to notice or to remember.

THE GOLDEN RULE IS BASED ON GOD’S CHARACTER

Matthew 7:12 begins with the word “So,” which points us back to the previous eleven verses and the motivation for this command. Jesus connects the Golden Rule with what comes before it, a two-fold lesson concerning the character of God. We are to practice the Golden Rule because God’s divine judgment teaches forbearance (vv. 1-6) and because God’s goodness teaches kindness (vv. 7-11).

In Matthew 7:1, Jesus instructs us to “Judge not, that you be not judged.” Clearly then, God’s divine and righteous judgment should lead us to honest self-examination and a realization of our own failures and faults. Whether or not you and I recognize the planks in our own eyes, God sees and will judge “impartially according to each one’s deeds” (1 Pet. 1:17).

Paul uses this same motivation when he instructs masters not to threaten their servants, “knowing that he who is both their Master and yours is in heaven, and that there is no partiality with him” (Eph. 6:9). Christians—because we trust that we are forgiven through grace, and not our own merit—should be characterized by an acute awareness of own failings, not the failings of others.

Yet this lesson is a double-edged sword for any person wishing to wield it because it is forged in the fiery reality of God’s judgment, perhaps the single most offensive subject to any unbeliever.

It is true we should be willing to forbear, love and forgive others. But the reason we are to do this, Jesus intimates, is that God’s judgment will come on those who do not consider and act in accordance with his righteous character.

Then Jesus tells us to persevere in prayer rather than in faultfinding by continually asking, seeking, and knocking at the throne room of God. But what are we to be asking, seeking, and knocking for?

The parallel passage in Luke’s gospel shows the spiritual nature of God’s promise: “How much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (Luke 11:13). God promises God to those who ask! And so God—not bank accounts, promotions or even physical health—is to be the great object of our prayers.

Once you revamp the priorities of your prayer life according to that promise, the obvious question is: How will you apply the Golden Rule in your newly-renovated prayer life? Surely you will not be content any longer, in your prayers for others, to merely ask for financial success or personal happiness, when the Holy Spirit himself is promised to those who ask for him. No, the Golden Rule clearly corners you into spiritual prayers on behalf of others, as well as for yourself.

Be assured that the surest, fastest way to learn to love your aggravating spouse, wandering teenager, or persistent enemy is to pray for their spiritual well being! But it first requires the recognition that they need the moving of the triune God on their behalf in order to help them out of their current state.

This is not what most people think of when they say, “Do to others what you would have them do to you.” But in context, this is clearly what Jesus means.

Ultimately, Jesus is saying the second commandment hangs on the first. We are to love God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind—humbled by his righteous judgment and looking to him for our every need—and thus we will discover the strength, motivation, and conviction to love others selflessly and sacrificially. And part of loving them like that will mean loving them enough to pray for their spiritual welfare. We will pray for them to be drawn irresistibly to God by his grace, and thereby transformed from unbelief to faith.

THE GOLDEN RULE IS POSITIVE AND COMPREHENSIVE

Jesus’ statement of the Golden Rule is positive, not merely negative: “Whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them.” Confucius stated the negative version of this rule—don’t do to others what you don’t want them to do to you—and we often mistake this for Jesus’ words. But the negative version is much easier than Jesus’ command. Jesus tells us to actively be engaged in the lives of others for their welfare—which is why the same Jesus would then send his disciples out to the Great Commission.

If Jesus is indeed God, and if God is the one great object, center, and satisfaction to be found in the universe, then the Golden Rule demands we preach the gospel of Jesus Christ to others no matter their religious background or personal perspective.

This is why Jesus’ statement is not only positive, but also comprehensive: “Whatever (literally, “everything”) you wish that others would do to you, do also to them.” There is nothing you should be willing to pray for yourself, but not for others. There is no great and liberating truth you should embrace, but not share with others. It is in perfect accord, then, with the Golden Rule that Paul would say to a great assembly of pagans and idolaters, “I would to God that not only you but also all who hear me this day might become such as I am—except for these chains” (Acts 26:29).

The Golden Rule does not prohibit us from the offense of the gospel. Rather, the Golden Rule mandates personal evangelism, praying for and striving for the spiritual good of others, according to the reality that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life.

THE GOLDEN RULE IS LAW

The third aspect of the Golden Rule we miss so often is that it is Law. Jesus says himself in this verse: “This is the Law.” James would likewise affirm, “If you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself,’ you are doing well” (Jas. 2:8). Paul pronounces that “the one who loves another has fulfilled the law” (Rom. 13:8).

The Golden Rule is not a mere motto by which to live; it is a bedrock reality built into the cosmos, firmly grounded in the foundational reality that this universe has a Maker, that he is the God of the Bible, and that he has given us laws by which we are to live.

John Stott appropriately reminds us that “The symbol of the religion of Jesus is the cross, not the scales.” If we are saved, it isn’t because our good works outweigh our bad works. We are saved because Jesus fulfilled the demands of the law on our behalf.

The grace of the cross, then, should be displayed in the way we deal with and interact with others, as the Golden Rule reminds us. Our relationships, like our religion, should be symbolized by the cross (unconditional forgiveness), not the scales (carefully weighing and criticizing the misdeeds of others).

Yet the cross also reminds us that the only way to salvation is Jesus Christ. The Golden Rule—itself a part of the righteous law of God—points us to the reality that we can never save ourselves; that the only hope the world will ever have to escape God’s righteous judgment is the person and work of Christ on the cross.

Our very inability to truly love others as ourselves should drive us to Christ for strength, forgiveness, and healing—and to share this good news with others in direct proportion to the joy we ourselves have found in it.

Justin Huffman has pastored in the States for over 15 years, authored the “Daily Devotion” app (iTunes/Android) which now has over half a million downloads, and recently published a book with Day One: Grow: the Command to Ever-Expanding Joy. He has also written articles for For the Church, Servants of Grace, and Fathom Magazine. He blogs at justinhuffman.org.

Paul David Tripp 2/1/18 Paul David Tripp 2/1/18

The Gospel of Jesus Christ and Sex

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike Phay 1/30/18 Mike Phay 1/30/18

The Surprising Antidote to Your Doubt

Editor’s note: This month at GCD you will be seeing articles from our team of Staff Writers and other contributors on a handful of topics that Jonathan Edwards introduced in his own Resolutions. The aim of this series is to help you see how a gospel-formed resolution can help you flourish in your love for Christ and for others next year. Click here to see all articles in this series.

If you ever wonder how to get a bad rap with posterity, you need look no further than Jonathan Edwards, one of modernity’s favorite Puritan whipping boys. An 18th Century pastor, theologian, and missionary, Edwards has gained a negative reputation as the foremost of hellfire-and-brimstone preachers and the paragon of everything our culture finds faulty with religion. If it’s considered anathema today—like a repressive puritanical morality, an overemphasis on sin, guilt, and judgment, or a sadistic glorification of divine violence—it’s probably been pinned on Jonathan Edwards at some point.

SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD?

My first exposure to Edwards came in high school literature with the assigned reading of his famous sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” Tackling the sermon as a read-aloud, our teacher prodded the class to preach with zeal: “Read it with passion! With fury in your eyes and fire in your belly!” His appeal to dramatic flair was mostly lost on a languid group of hormonal juniors, none of whom were eager to stand out amongst their peers. But the bias against Edwards—and the old-fashioned, bigoted, puritanical religion he represented—was clear.

In recent years, a popular backlash against “angry God” Christianity has risen not only from secular quarters but also from within the walls of the church. Consider a recent title from Brian Zahnd entitled Sinners in the Hands of a Loving God, one in a long line of attempts to correct what is believed to be a backward and destructive theology and replace it with a non-violent, singularly loving, atonement-free gospel.^[1]

For many of us, the appeal of a gratuitously loving God in the face of Edwards’ seemingly angry and bloodthirsty deity is irresistible. The angry, severe, cold god we grew up with has left us harboring neuroses too various to number. The god many of us have pictured from childhood was more like a domineering or demanding father than a gentle and loving friend. He reigned with an iron fist, rode on a heavenly cloud, and longed for a chance to exact vengeance on sinners and saints alike. This is a god whose stratospheric expectations left us cowering in fear, hopeless victims of his capricious anger and violent wrath.

But this portrayal of God is a gross caricature of Edwards and his theology. In contrast to this popular depiction, we might consider one of his seventy “Resolutions”:

“25. Resolved, to examine carefully, and constantly, what that one thing in me is, which causes me in the least to doubt of the love of God; and to direct all my forces against it."

We get a glimpse here of a young man—about 19 years old at the time of writing—enraptured by and devoted to God’s love. This might surprise anyone whose truncated impressions of Edwards have been informed by critics rather than a fair hearing of one of America’s greatest (and most warm-hearted) thinkers.

At root, Edwards had a comprehension of God’s love far richer and deeper than our modern understanding. The kind of love we expect and demand from God is lacking in anything negative, unattractive, or displeasurable. We desire a God who requires nothing of us, corrects nothing in us, and gives us everything we want. However, when we begin with ourselves and measure God by our own desires, we have a tendency to force him into a mold of our own making. We want a god that fits in our pocket—one we can take out when we want him, and put back when we’re through.

GOD’S WRATH MAKES HIS LOVE MORE BEAUTIFUL

But the God of Edwards—and, I would argue, of the Bible—doesn’t fit in our pocket. He neither exists nor acts primarily for our self-esteem. He acts for his own glory. And sin is, ultimately, an affront to that glory. The God with whom we have to deal is nothing like us. He is completely holy and requires absolute obedience. This is the God Edwards found in the Scriptures—the God who caused him to tremble and who is not to be trifled with.

It is only against the backdrop of the fierce wrath of God that divine love poured out on God’s enemies makes sense. Indeed, the central paradox of “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” is that “God hath had it on his heart to show to angels and men, both how excellent his love is, and also how terrible his wrath is.”^[2] This theme of God’s patient kindness and love—a kindness that leads to repentance (Rom 2:4)—motivates and animates the entire sermon with Gospel power.

C.S. Lewis elucidated the relationship between wrath and love along a similar vein:

“I quite agree that the Christian religion is, in the long run, a thing of unspeakable comfort. But it does not begin in comfort; it begins in the dismay I have been describing, and it is no use at all trying to go on to that comfort without first going through that dismay.”

THE SURPRISING ANTIDOTE TO DOUBT

In my own life, I have often struggled to accept God’s love for me. I've questioned how he could possibly love me, given my unworthiness and constant failure. I assume God foregoes actual affection for me and settles for mere tolerance. I feel like I'll end up sitting at the kids’ table at the Wedding Supper of the Lamb.

All of this self-abnegation, of course, seems humble, but it's actually a false kind of humility undergirded by a pride that says: “God’s grace is not big enough for me. His love is not expansive enough to fully include me.” I think my sin—as heinous and wrath-deserving as it is—is more powerful than God’s justifying grace. But this kind of passive pride actually degrades the work of Christ and undermines a biblical understanding of grace.

And this is where Edwards’ twenty-fifth resolution helps me. When I doubt God’s love—a weakness the 19-year-old Edwards apparently shared with me—the place I am directed to look is to the wrath of God. Why? Because when I truly understand the wrath of God against his enemies, then I am able to truly understand my desperate place without God’s merciful intervention. It is only God’s unmerited favor and gracious pleasure—that is, his free and inscrutable love towards me—which is able to save.

And what does it save me from? According to the Scriptures, God’s love saves me from God’s wrath: “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God” (Rom 5:8-9).

HOW TO CONQUER DOUBT

Here is a profound and freeing truth: the love of God saves us from the wrath of God through the death of the Son of God. God’s love is excellent in itself, but it becomes exceptional and incomprehensible to human sinners in light of the wrath from which we are saved.

When you are prone to question God’s wrath or doubt his love, the antidote for both is to look to the cross, not as a place where God affirms your infinite worthiness, but as a place where he displays his infinite wrath against sin in concert with his infinite love for his fallen creation.

Whenever you doubt the love of God, look to the cross. For the cross is where God’s wrath is appeased, his love is displayed, and his enemies become his children.

^[1] Derek Rishmawy offers a helpful (but long) review of Zahnd’s book here.

^[2] Jonathan Edwards, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” July 8, 1741.

Mike Phay serves 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.

Jen Oshman 1/28/18 Jen Oshman 1/28/18

What it Means to Invest in Eternity

Before my husband was a pastor, he worked through seminary as a financial advisor in the mutual funds industry. In the early days of our marriage, he took a phone call that left a deep impression on us both.

A World War II veteran called to discuss his retirement funds. The caller hadn’t experienced an extraordinary career and had never made much money. What he had done was put away $25 every single month from the time he was eighteen. He shared with my husband that no matter what—even when times were lean and he had trouble making ends meet—he put away $25, and not one penny more.

Over time, that monthly $25 deposit grew and the interest increased exponentially, accumulating to well over a million dollars. At the time, as a man in his seventies, he was enjoying retirement in the late 1990s. He had no worries because he had been faithfully investing in his future for decades.

This veteran had an understanding few other investors have: he knew he had one chance to save for the future. He understood that if he was going to enjoy his old age without financial worry, he had a limited window to prepare.

INVESTING IN ETERNITY

The same can be said of our time. We all have limited time to invest in our future, and, just as the veteran knew he had one chance invest in his future, Christians have a limited window to invest in eternity.

The writer of Hebrews says, “It is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” (Heb. 9:27). We have one life and one chance to prepare for life after death.

Paul tells us in Galatians that we are all heading toward a season of harvest: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” (Gal. 6:9).

In other words, we are sowing now but we'll reap soon. How do we appropriately prepare? If retirement calls for careful planning, how much more diligent should we be with eternity?

RESOLVING TO INVEST IN THE DISTANT FUTURE

Jonathan Edwards is a remarkable example of someone who wanted to be ready for eternity. Edwards strove to live well that he might bring glory to God and stand ready to meet him. Of the 70 resolutions he penned before the age of twenty, Resolution 22 speaks to Edwards’ desire to be ready for the life after this one:

Resolved, to endeavor to obtain for myself as much happiness, in the other world, as I possibly can, with all the power; might, vigor, and vehemence, yea violence, I am capable of, or can bring myself to exert, in any way that can be thought of.

“Happiness in the other world” was so important to Edwards that he resolved to pursue it with all his power and capability, and in any way that he could think of. But what is happiness in the other world? Rewards in heaven.

FULL VESSELS, VARYING CAPACITIES

Edwards, John Bunyan, and Charles Spurgeon all compared our happiness in the other world to full vessels. While every believer in Christ will be completely full of joy in heaven—like a vessel full to the brim—some vessels will be larger. Christians will have varying capacities for joy depending on how much our vessels were stretched in this life.

We know our good works in this life are not the grounds for our salvation. We could never obey our Lord enough to justify ourselves. Indeed, our bedrock is grace: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).

Eternity in heaven is a free gift, while our good works on earth are a confirmation of that gift. We desire to serve and please our Lord when we are inwardly changed. And the works we do in this lifetime will be rewarded accordingly in the next.

It is so easy to forget that each of our actions matter for eternity. But Jesus said, “I am he who searches mind and heart, and I will give to each of you according to your works” (Rev. 2:23).

How quickly we drift from one distraction to another, serving ourselves, rather than the Lord or his people. Even in Edwards’ day, with arguably fewer distractions, he knew this.

Edwards recognized that Scripture is replete with the teaching that every person will “appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil” (2 Cor. 5:10, see also 1 Cor. 4:5, Rom. 14:10-12, and 1 Cor. 3:12-15).

He heeded the warnings that while this life is temporal, the next one is eternal. Wisely, Edwards resolved to invest his efforts more in the distant future than in gratifying his immediate desires.

STRETCHING OUR VESSELS

While Christ is our primary treasure, he instructs us to seek treasure in heaven as well. Our good works are done by his grace and for his glory (1 Cor. 15:10). Therefore, it is for his glory and our own good that we pursue rewards in the life to come. The Bible tells us how we can do that:

Deny ourselves (Matt. 16:24-27)
Have compassion for the poor, crippled, lame, and blind (Luke 14:13-14)
Love our enemies (Luke 6:35)
Practice faithful and productive stewardship (1 Cor. 4:1-5, Matt. 25:14-23)
Give sacrificially to the poor (Matt. 19:21)
Have compassion on those in prison and endure trials (Heb. 10:34-36)
Persevere under persecution for righteousness’ sake (Matt. 5:10-12)
Do good works (Rom. 2:6-10)
Work as to the Lord (Eph. 6:6-8)

THE FRUITS OF INVESTING IN ETERNITY

Knowing that “the other world” is forever and that there God will “repay man according to his work” (Proverbs 24:12), may we resolve with Edwards to endeavor to obtain for ourselves as much happiness there as we possibly can. May we exert all the power, might, vigor, and vehemence we are capable of, in any way that we can think of.

Let’s consider how God’s gifts in our lives may be used in service to him, for his glory and our good, both in this lifetime and in the one to come.

Just like that wise World War II veteran, we must be diligent in our pursuit of the future. We must invest now to enjoy the payoff later.

We are in a season of sowing and God urges us to consider how we might reap a bountiful harvest later. This lifetime is our only chance to reap happiness in the one to come. May we not waste it. May we resolve to carefully, consistently store away all that we can with all that we have.

Jen Oshman is a wife and mom to four daughters and has served as a missionary for 17 years on three continents. She currently resides in Colorado where she and her husband serve with Pioneers International, and she encourages her church-planting husband at Redemption Parker. Her passion is leading women into a deeper faith and fostering a biblical worldview. She writes at www.jenoshman.com.

Jared Wilson 1/25/18 Jared Wilson 1/25/18

The Importance of Enough

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FALSE FASTING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TRUE FASTING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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