Put Down Your Phone, Pick Up Your Cross, and Follow Jesus

I am convinced that one of the greatest enemies of joyful living is our constant addiction to technology. Because we spend so much time staring at our phones, we don’t have the productivity at our jobs that we should, we don’t spend enough time outside, we ignore our spiritual disciplines, and we spend too much of the time that we spend with people staring at our phones.

This year, I have worked through several books that address this issue. The book that has had the most influence on my thinking about technology this year is Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World, by Georgetown Associate Professor of Computer Science Cal Newport. This book changed the way I think about my work and, as I continue to reflect on the book, my walk with the Lord.

THE DEEP WORK OF SPIRITUAL LIFE

Newport argues that deep work, work which requires hours of focused concentration, is increasingly rare and valuable in our culture. The type of concentration we need to do good work is difficult because we are living in a distracted world.

If distraction makes work difficult, how much more difficult does it make our spiritual lives? We struggle to spend time in our Bibles because of our distractions, our minds wander when we are in prayer, and we find corporate worship difficult because the forty-minute sermon is longer than our declining attention spans can handle.

If we struggle to develop our walk with the Lord because we spend most of our time distracted by shallow things, can we adjust our lives and eliminate distractions? Yes, I think so. Here are 5 tips for following Jesus in a distracted world.

CULTIVATE A DEEP WALK THROUGH TIME IN HIS WORD

Yes, every post about growing spiritually begins with a discussion about time in the Bible. I make no apologies for this and don’t intend to amend my practice anytime soon. We need God’s word. The Bible’s own testimony about itself shows how desperately we need it. Moses spoke of the man not living by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. Jesus quoted this passage during his temptations in the wilderness. The psalmist describes the Bible as a lamp to our feet and a light to our path.

What if you committed to going to bed twenty minutes earlier so you can wake up to read God’s Word before you start your day? How much different would your walk with the Lord be if, over the course of a month, you spent almost ten hours basking in the glow of God’s beautiful Bible?

You only have to do two things to make it happen: put down your phone or turn off the TV so you can go to sleep earlier, and do not grab your phone first thing in the morning when you wake up. Instead, work on the discipline of not looking at your phone or turning on the TV until you have set your heart upon the Word of God.

When you read the Bible, make sure you are paying close attention to it. Most of us have slaughtered our attention spans, so do whatever you have to do to make sure that your head is in the game when you are reading. Read with a pencil and journal in your hand so you can jot down notes or underline things that strike you. Do everything you can to get into God’s Word and do not walk away from it until you have allowed it to bear down on your heart.

CULTIVATE A DEEP WALK THROUGH TIME IN PRAYER

If we think our minds wander during a sermon, it is nothing compared with how they wander when we’re praying. In prayer, we commune with the God who made the whole world and gave his Son to bring us back to him. What should capture our attention more than that?

You must devise strategies that will help you have laser-like focus. First, do not think of Bible reading and prayer as two separate and unrelated activities. Instead, look at one as feeding the other. I recommend finding at least one thing in your Bible reading that can jumpstart your prayer time. Did you see sin that you need to confess? Did you read a promise that you need faith to believe? Was there a command that you need help obeying?

Also, use a journal or a list when you pray. This can be a list of people you are praying for and of things going on in your own life that you need to bring before the Lord. You may want to write out your prayers while you say them so you stay engaged and your mind does not wander. In addition, when you do this you can read over your prayers years later and be encouraged by how the Lord has been at work.

You may wonder where you will “find” the time to do this. You will not “find” the time. Life does not work that way. You must make time by ruthlessly cutting out things that are of little or no importance so you can make time for things that are of supreme importance.

CULTIVATE A DEEP WALK BY MAKING TIME FOR PEOPLE

We experience an interesting paradox in the digital age: we are connected to more people in more places than ever, yet we are lonelier than ever. Very little of the time we spend connected to others takes place in face-to-face conversations, around the dinner table, or working together on a shared project. Unfortunately, we spend much of our time in the presence of other people looking at our own screens.

When we function like this, we miss many of the blessings of following Jesus. When you are reading the New Testament, look carefully at every occurrence of the words “one another.” Can we experience the value of true Christian community while we sit in our homes and stare at a phone? Of course not! The one another passages beckon us out of our cocoons and into real life with other people. When we do this, we get the blessing of being an encouragement to them and experience them being a blessing to us.

In community, we discover areas where we struggle with sin and need to grow. When we walk with others, we learn where we are deceiving ourselves and where we have blind spots. While this sounds like bad news, it is actually a great grace to us. Through seeing our sins in community, we can repent and grow with the help of other believers. We are not on our own in the struggle. Maybe some of the powerlessness in our own personal walk with the Lord and in the witness of our churches comes from our neglecting time with each other.

CULTIVATE A DEEP WALK BY MAKING TIME FOR CORPORATE WORSHIP

There was a time in the life of American Christianity when we measured our involvement in the local church by how many times we were engaged each week. Now we measure it by how many times we attend in a month. I have no desire to return to the days when something was going on at the church building every night of the week. It was not healthy, and we did not give people enough time to spend with their families and neighbors.

But we have gone way too far in the other direction. When you consider that we are being discipled by the world every day, worship with the church twice a month is not sufficient to grow as a believer. How can we grow when we are neglecting the means God has given to help us grow?

If you have so much going on in your life that you are too tired to worship with the church on Sunday, cut something out. If you are too busy to do what God has commanded, you are too busy. Make time for the Sunday worship gathering. Allow nothing but providential hindrances to come in the way. When you come into worship, bring a physical copy of the Bible, turn off your phone, talk to the people around you, and completely engage in worship with the body.

Your time in worship will be more beneficial. You will discover that while one sermon may not change your life, repeated exposure to God’s Word week after week will. You will find that you learn those songs you claim not to know when you sing them more often. The people you say you never see will become more familiar to you. Partaking in communion more often will not cheapen its meaning but will make it a vital means of grace in your life.

CULTIVATE A DEEP WALK BY KNOWING WHAT IS TRULY IMPORTANT

Although I wrote the first draft of this on a typewriter, this has not been a screed against technology. Technology is a good thing when it is a tool that we use. It becomes dangerous when it is something that is using us.

We must learn to be master of these tools and not their slaves. So, we must reacquaint ourselves with the things in our lives that matter most. We need to give them the priority they are due so we can cultivate a walk with the Lord that goes deeper than we have ever gone before.

A while back, my doctor told me that I need to lose weight. Since she ended her speech to me with “and I’ll be praying for you,” I’m assuming she was serious. Waking up at 4:30 a.m. to work out has not been fun, and I wish I could eat more chocolate, but after a month I feel better, have more energy, and my clothes fit better. It has been worth it.

In the same way, putting down our devices at night and getting to bed earlier will not be easy. Cutting down on our weekend activities means saying “no” to things we would like to say “yes” to. However, we find that in saying “no” to mundane things, we get to say “yes” to things that things that are better and more beautiful.

Being dazzled by God’s Word is better than being entertained by one more show on Netflix or one more scroll through your Facebook news feed. The encouragement from time in prayer before the Father is infinitely better than bathing in social media gossip. The correction or encouragement of a Christian friend to your face is worth way more than hundreds of likes from people you never see.

When we cultivate a deep walk with the Lord, we are not denying ourselves the best things in life—we are cutting out things that bring no lasting satisfaction so we can have the infinite and lasting joy that only God can give.

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Scott Slayton (M.Div., SBTS) serves as Lead Pastor at Chelsea Village Baptist Church in Chelsea, Alabama. Scott and his wife Beth have four children: Hannah, Sarah Kate, Leah, and Matt.  He regularly writes at his personal blog One Degree to Another.

Lay Down Your Life For a Lasting Marriage

The glass sun face hanging in our bathroom tells a story. It’s from our honeymoon nineteen years ago. On our last night in Ixtapa, Mexico, my husband and I had just enough money after dinner for either a taxi ride back to our hotel or to purchase this souvenir, but not both. Convinced my brand-new husband really liked the sun face, I encouraged him to buy it. And, as we walked the hilly two miles back, he carried the package and congratulated himself on securing a treasure his wife clearly wanted.

Not long after getting back to our hotel room, I said, “I’m so glad we got that sun face for you.”

Incredulous, my husband said, “What? We didn’t get that for me. We got that for you.”

We love that story. We still repeat it to one another and laugh about it. The story the sun face tells is that on our honeymoon we were eager to walk miles in the heat to make the other happy.

All these years later, I can tell you the preferential treatment of our honeymoon hasn’t remained our default behavior. Rather, like all couples, as the days and years progressed we began to live transactionally.

TRANSACTIONAL LIVING

Transactional living looks like this: I’ll do this for you, if you do that for me. But if you don’t keep up your end of the deal, I’m not keeping mine either.

If you work all day, I’ll cook dinner. If I do the taxes, you have to schedule the babysitters. I’m willing to mow the lawn if you do the laundry.

Or if you’re selfish, don’t expect me to be generous. If you’re critical, I will be too. And if I feel like you’re not listening to me, I’m not going to listen to you either.

In a transactional marriage, we keep a secret scoreboard in our heads, tallying our own good deeds alongside the misdeeds of the other. Not surprisingly, we always are in the lead, sure we are outperforming our spouses.

Aware of this human condition, Paul tells us “not to think of [ourselves] more highly than [we] ought to think, but to think with sober judgment” (Rom. 12:3).

Our internal scorekeeping is not only rigged and inaccurate, but it steals our joy. The practice of picking apart our spouse’s shortcomings only begets more picking. It’s a vicious cycle. Our flesh is insatiable.

If we want any hope of a joy-filled marriage, we must heed Paul’s words, given in the same breath as his instruction above, to view ourselves with sober judgment. He says, “by the mercies of God … present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind” (Rom. 12:1-2).

Rather than following the worldly model of transactional living, we are called to renew our minds. Here are four methods of renewing our minds in the midst of marriage.

1. LOOK TO JESUS AS OUR MODEL

 Jesus, “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. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:6-8).

Our Savior, himself the God of all creation, left his throne in heaven, put on flesh, and came to Earth to rescue us. He, who knew no sin, took our sin upon himself, giving us his righteousness instead (2 Cor. 5:21). There has never been, nor will there ever be, a greater injustice.

In the midst of marital strife, in a season when I am prone to keep score, I try to remember Jesus’s example. If he—though perfect—was willing to die for me, how much more willing should I—being far from perfect—be willing to serve my spouse? The cross brings perspective.

2. REMEMBER PAUL’S INSTRUCTIONS

Throughout the New Testament we see a variety of instructions from Paul to wives and husbands as to how we should treat one another. What is key, though, is that the instructions are given in the context of worship. Paul tells us to love our spouses in the name of Jesus.

Right before imparting specific marital instructions in his letter to the Colossians, Paul said, “whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Col. 3:17). Our treatment of our spouses is meant to flow from our love for Jesus and our gratitude to the Father.

Paul does not tell us to treat our spouses well because it’s the right thing to do. He doesn’t say to serve them because they deserve it. Through Paul, God commands us to sacrificially love our spouses because God himself deserves it. Our kindness in marriage is “to the Lord” (Eph. 4:22).

When our spouses sin against us, and when we are tempted to withhold goodness because they have wronged us, we can remember Paul’s exhortation. We serve Jesus above all. Our tenderness in marriage is in Jesus’ name.

3. ACKNOWLEDGE THAT GOD PROVIDES STRENGTH

Any married person past their honeymoon knows serving your spouse is not automatic. Our flesh is quick to serve itself and we want to be served by others. Just as our salvation was not secured by our own strength, neither are our good works. Like Paul said, it is “not [our] own doing; it is the gift of God” (Eph. 2:8).

In order to avoid transactional living, in order to “do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than [ourselves]” (Phil. 2:3), we must remember that “it is God who works in [us], both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Phil. 2:13).

If we are to have any hope in marriage, any expectation of longevity and happiness and unity, we must call on Christ to work through us.

4. BELIEVE THIS FOR YOUR JOY

The counter-intuitive truth of the Christian life is that joy is granted when we deny ourselves. Our Savior endured the cross “for the joy set before him” (Heb. 12:2). In the same way, when we seek the good of our spouse, when we forsake ourselves, we find joy.

Jesus said, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matt. 16:24-25).

We find our lives when we follow our Lord and pour ourselves out. When we treat our spouses preferentially, it is for their good, for our joy, and for the glory of God.

This laying-down lifestyle is the opposite of a transactional lifestyle. This way asks, How can I bless you? What do you need? In this kind of marriage, spouses keep no record of wrongs—or rights.

Rather, they give a blessing for a cursing. They honor one another above themselves. They emulate their Savior. And they find not only a lasting marriage, but lasting joy.

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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.

3 Forms of Prayer That End Up Forming Us

Prayer has a formative impact on our lives—the manner or form of our prayers actually shapes the contours and character of our lives. So frequently, it would seem, our prayers begin with our experience: something in our lives occasions a particular prayer, typically a petition or request. And thus the content of our prayers is determined by what is happening in our lives. But perhaps the reverse should actually be the norm. Without doubt, the circumstances of our lives will inform our prayers. But perhaps what should be happening is that our prayers would inform our lives, that our praying would alter our living, that our prayers would shape the contours and content of our daily experience.

PRAYER AS FORMATION

In this way of living and praying, we would allow our deepest convictions—our faith and our theological vision of God, ourselves, and our world—to inform our prayers and be the means by which we know the transforming power of grace in our lives. More particularly, we would choose that the reign of Christ—the kingdom of God—would increasingly be that which defines our lives, our ways of being, living, and responding to our world. We would find that the salvation of God is not merely something that God has done for us—in Christ, on the cross—but also something that God is doing in us.

To this end, our prayers play a crucial role. Indeed, if transformation does not happen through our prayers, it likely does not happen. This is why it is so crucial that we teach new Christians how to pray and that in our patterns and approaches to congregational life we are consistently coming back to the fundamentals of prayer. And this is why all of us, older and newer Christians alike, are always coming back to the basics of the form and structure of formative prayer.

When we pray “thy kingdom come,” should not our prayer be an act of recalibration? Could our praying be an act of intentional alignment and realignment? That is, in our prayer our vision of the kingdom purposes of God will be deepened and broadened; we will be drawn into the reality of Christ risen and now on the throne of the universe. And thus through our prayers we not only pray for the kingdom but also come to increasingly live within the kingdom, under the reign of Christ.

This last point is crucial. So frequently we pray as though God is passive and we are trying to get God to act. But could it be that God is always active? And that in our praying we are aware of how God is actually always at work, bringing his kingdom into effect, and we are seeing and responding to the kingdom even as we pray “thy kingdom come”? In the process, we are increasingly more aligned and in tune with the kingdom, more and more living our lives, individually and in community, in a manner that consistently reflects, in word and deed, the coming kingdom of God.

3 MOVEMENTS IN OUR PRAYERS

Can we do this? Certainly, but only if we are intentional. We need to consider the merits of a very focused and purposeful approach to our prayers. Yes, there is a place for spontaneity. And most certainly there is a place for freeform prayers where we express to God our immediate thoughts and feelings. But when we speak of our formation in Christ and our participation in the kingdom—where the kingdom of God increasingly defines us more than anything else—we should perhaps be focused and purposeful. We can consider the value of consistency and even routine, an approach to prayer that has an order to it. We can even speak of a liturgy, meaning that our prayers have a regular pattern to them so that over time our hearts and minds and lives are increasingly conformed to the very thing for which we are praying.

In this kind of intentionality it is very helpful to think in terms of three movements in our prayers, three forms of prayer by which we respond to and learn to live in the reality that Christ is risen and active in our world—that in and through Christ the reign of God is coming. Three movements, with an intentional sequence.

First, we give thanks. We see and respond with gratitude to the ways in which God is already at work in our world and in our lives. We begin here. We begin by seeing the evidence of the reign of Christ—the ways that God is already at work in our lives and in our world. And we give thanks. We pray “thy kingdom come” in a way that not only acknowledges that God is already at work but celebrates and gives thanks for this work. We cannot pray “thy kingdom come” if we are not grateful for how the kingdom has come and is coming. Thanksgiving is foundational to the Christian life and thus foundational to prayer.

Second, we make confession—the essential realignment of those who long to live under the reign of Christ. We pray “thy kingdom come,” and very soon we also pray—if we follow the sequence of the Lord’s Prayer—“forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” We practice confession. It is clear from Scripture that when the kingdom is announced and when the kingdom is at hand—present, in our midst, and recognized—we respond with confession (Mark 1:15).

Confession is essential if we truly recognize and believe in the coming of the kingdom. If we have kingdom eyes, the genius of our response is that we see where there is a disconnect. We see and feel that our lives are not being lived ina way that is consistent with the kingdom. We cannot pray “your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” unless and until we see the ways that our lives are not lived in consistency with the will of God. And so, recognizing the kingdom, we repent: we practice confession. Repentance, then, is not merely a matter of feeling bad about something we have said or done, but rather an act of intentional alignment—or better, realignment—with the coming of the reign of Christ.

And third, we practice discernment—considering where and how God is calling us to speak and act as participants in the kingdom of God. We pray “thy kingdom come” as those who are also called to be full participants, in word and deed, in what God is doing in the world. And so when we pray we of course ask—or better, discern—how we are called in our lives to witness to the kingdom.

We are not merely observers; we are engaged. We are invited—more, actually called as agents of God’s purposes in the world. Our words and our deeds matter. In some mysterious way, even though God and God alone brings about the kingdom, our lives witness to the kingdom—our words, our work. And so when we pray “thy kingdom come,” we also necessarily must pray, How, oh Lord, are you calling me to make a difference in your kingdom purposes for our world? 

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Taken from Teach Us to Pray by Gordon T. Smith. Copyright (c) 2018 by Gordon T. Smith Published by InterVarsity Press, Downers Grove, IL. www.ivpress.com

Gordon T. Smith (PhD, Loyola School of Theology, Ateneo de Manila University) is the president of Ambrose University and Seminary in Calgary, Alberta, where he also serves as professor of systematic and spiritual theology. He is an ordained minister with the Christian and Missionary Alliance and a teaching fellow at Regent College, Vancouver, British Columbia. He is the author of many books, including Courage and Calling, Called to Be Saints, Spiritual Direction, Consider Your Calling, and The Voice of Jesus.

Mourning Our Way to Joy

When I resigned from the church I worked at for fifteen years, I transitioned into the world of business. There were consequences I didn’t see coming. God opened a role as an associate at an eCommerce company. Over the course of the first year, I realized that my projects were bringing me into an ethical arena I was unprepared for. It became clear that I could only continue earning a steady paycheck if I was willing to work in shades of gray I previously would have rejected. I chose to compromise.

This plunge into the world of commerce changed my perspective on Christian morality. I developed strong opinions on subjects about which I had previously been ambivalent. For example, while working on an online store selling tattoo and piercing supplies, I got a glimpse into the body modification community and saw a deep darkness in it; a desire for mutual acceptance predicated on pain and exhibition. I came to see commercialism and consumerism as powers and principalities—forces that enslave people while making them feel as if they are in control; things that pretend to be God but aren’t. Idols that, by action or inaction, I was helping to build.

I began to mourn. I mourned the loss of my ministry position and its relative simplicity. I mourned the state of the world and the lostness of the people I share it with. I mourned my own weakness and willingness to compromise when my livelihood is on the line.

BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO MOURN

Scripture has much to say about mourning. Some books of the Bible are dedicated to it. Jesus addresses mourning in one of his Beatitude declarations at the very beginning of his revolutionary Sermon on the Mount: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matt. 5:4)”

Jesus doesn’t specify why a person is mourning, or when they can expect to be comforted. He simply promises that they will be. What are we to make of this?

Mourning is the second of eight Beatitudes, and therefore can be seen as the second step into the reality of what Jesus calls the kingdom of heaven. If we view these steps progressively, one following the other, then we can suppose that poverty of spirit, the first step (Matt. 5:3), is the key that opens the gate, and mourning is what carries us over the threshold.

As with each Beatitude, this assertion is surprising and counterintuitive. In the previous verse, Jesus claims that poverty is desirable because it opens the kingdom to us. Now he assures us that a state of mourning is positive because the comfort of the kingdom will be found on the other side. What is Jesus getting at?

HOW DID JESUS MOURN?

For any principle Jesus upholds, we can safely assume he is the best possible example of it. Jesus chose to lay down his glory and come to us as a human (Phil. 2:8)—and his response was to mourn.

In the gospel accounts, we find him looking with compassion on crowds of people because they are “harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matt. 9:6). He grieves over the stubbornness of Jerusalem (Matt. 23:27), despairs over the hypocrisy of the religious teachers (Matt. 23:16), and weeps over the body of a dead friend (John 11:35). While Jesus certainly wasn’t joyless, he did not see the purpose of his time on earth to be pleasure or comfort. He was acutely aware of the misery surrounding him in the form of sickness, spiritual oppression, and injustice.

He was also aware of the suffering that awaited him in his own torture and murder. So, he said, “Blessed are you who weep now . . . but woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep” (Luke 6:21, 25). This reinforces a strong Biblical theme: that mourning is better than laughter, and to pursue comfort and pleasure in this world is to forego it in the next.

We see in his example three compelling reasons to adopt an attitude of mourning.

REASONS TO MOURN

First, we mourn for what we leave behind as followers of Christ. When anything that was once precious to us is left behind, we must undergo a process of grieving in order to face a world in which that thing is no longer part of our lives. This could mean sin, or it could simply mean things that distract us from our missional purpose as Christians. Jesus recognized that over-attachment to his family would distract him from his mission (Luke 8:21). Once, when a man expressed a desire to follow Jesus, the Lord replied, “Birds have nests and foxes have holes, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” In other words, the crucified life cost Jesus—and it will cost us, too. Grieving in this sense means to fully accept that there are things we once cherished that can no longer be with us.

Second, we mourn for our own sin. Jesus did not have sins to mourn, but he certainly grieved over the sins of others. My proclivity to sin is the single greatest barrier between myself and Jesus. It hinders my prayers, poisons my relationships, and hampers my willingness to come boldly before the throne of God. We cannot enter the kingdom of heaven if we have a comfortable relationship with sin. As soon as a sin is revealed in my life, I must be willing to leave it behind—to mourn its passing and let it go, knowing that I’m pressing on towards something much more satisfying. “Men loved the darkness instead of the light because their deeds were evil” (John 3:19). We sin because we love it. And like anything we love, letting go of it will grieve us.

Finally, once we’ve learned to grieve over our own sin, we find Jesus’ heart in mourning for sin and death in the world. No longer taking delight (openly or secretly) in the shame, futility, and ignorance that defines life under the sun, we become more and more preoccupied with helping those around us recognize the true and eternal hope of life in the Son. Deeply aware of our own brokenness, we do not approach the world as a judge pronouncing a verdict, but rather as a nurse serving under the Great Physician (John 3:17, Mark 2:17).

MOURNING OUR WAY TO JOY

Christ-centered mourning does not manifest in depression; it does not lead us to a joyless, judgmental life. Instead, it leads us to focus on what’s truly important. The joy of the world comes from deceit and distraction as we try to ignore, delay, or minimize the coming of death. The joy of the Lord is grounded in truth and reality—that Jesus has passed through death and into life, and that his hand is extended to each of us to do the same.

Death is real; pain is real; suffering is real. But God is more real. And so we mourn confidently, knowing that our mourning will one day give way to joy.

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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.

10 Reasons Your Anger Isn’t Righteous

A frenzied young rabbi runs helter-skelter through holiday crowds. He upends tables, scatters gold and silver, and sends animals and humans fleeing in every direction. Those with sense run for the exits, not eager to find themselves on the business end of this mad Galilean’s handmade whip (see John 2:15). Others, with more greed than sense, dive after loose coins and lost profits.

This episode must have made an impression on Jesus’ disciples, as it’s one of the few stories that made its way into all four Gospels. It is hands down, the wildest depiction of Jesus we have. Rather than “gentle Jesus, meek and mild,” we’re presented with “angry Jesus, zealous and wild.” Here is a shockingly aggressive, courageous, passionate, intense Messiah. Paint his face blue and give him a Scottish accent, and any one of us might be inspired to follow him into battle.

This is angry Jesus.

And if Jesus can get angry, can I?

If we’re honest, this whip-brandishing Jesus is the same Jesus we too easily invoke to justify our own anger. If there is such a thing as righteous indignation, most of our anger probably is justified, right? And if the Bible tells us to “be angry and do not sin” (Eph. 4:26, emphasis added) then maybe we’ve got a green light for our rage.

But the Scriptures don’t give us leeway for such faulty logic. Consider, for example, the words of James: “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (Jas. 1:19-20).

James is speaking not of righteous anger, but the more common “anger of man,” which is directed by human passions and desires (see Jas. 4:1-3).

Most of the anger we justify as “righteous”—the flare-ups and frustrations caused by petty annoyances or personal affronts—isn’t righteous at all. Here are ten reasons why.

1. YOUR ANGER ISN'T RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE IT DOESN'T PRODUCE RIGHTEOUSNESS

“The anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (Jas. 1:20).

If human anger was a machine, no raw material fed into the front end could create an output of righteousness. No amount of tinkering, adjustment, or redesign would produce goodness. It’s simply not the right kind of machine. Has your anger ever resulted in good things in your life?

2. YOUR ANGER ISN'T RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE IT'S ALL ABOUT YOU

Human anger may claim to be all about righteousness when, in reality, it’s all about self. We reason something along these lines: Someone has sinned against me, and sin displeases God. I care about God’s feelings and am commanded to imitate him. Therefore, my displeasure at this sin—really, my anger at this person—is justified.

This logic, natural as it seems, ultimately aims at preserving self rather than upholding God’s glory. Sin displeases God primarily because it’s an affront to his glory, yet I’m angry because someone has sinned against me. Sadly, I use God’s glory to justify my own anger.

The common denominator of human anger is self-preservation. This is what it’s for, thereby setting it against any threat to the self. Righteous anger, on the other hand, postures itself for the preservation of God’s honor, and against any threats to it (including sin). The common denominator of righteous anger is the preservation of God’s honor.

Twenty years of pastoral work has, at times, given me a front-row seat to the furious self-preservation that arises when a person’s idols are threatened. The most common idol is the human ego. Thankfully, Christ frees us from our natural human tendency to protect ourselves:

“For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died; and he died for all, that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised” (2 Cor. 5:14-15).

Because we belong to him, we are freed from the burden of self-preservation.

3. YOUR ANGER ISN'T RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE IT FEEDS OFF ENMITY

Jesus said it most clearly: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matt. 5:43-44).

We often use “justified anger” to keep enemies in their proper place as enemies, and in the process fail to keep the love command. Jesus provides a relational reason for this most difficult of commands: “so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven” (Matt. 5:45a).

Children naturally tend to act like their parents, embodying family traits and living out family values. Our Father sets the family standard by loving those who hate him and transforming enemies into family members. As the ultimate peacemaker, he calls his children to imitate him: “Blessed are the peacemakers,” Jesus says. Why? “For they shall be sons of God” (Matt. 5:9).

The Apostle Paul directs believers to “live peaceably with all” (Rom. 12:18), a mode of life that will naturally shrink one’s circle of enemies. But when anger is given space to feed off enmity, it subverts peacemaking, stifles reconciliation, and kindles conflict.

4. YOUR ANGER ISN'T RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE IT CULTIVATES A CROP OF BITTERNESS

“Strive for peace with everyone … See to it that … no ‘root of bitterness’ springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled” (Heb. 12:14,15).

The relational crop produced by anger includes bitterness, among other things. Righteous relational stewardship, on the other hand, severs anger at its roots, prevents bitterness, and nurtures peace.

5. YOUR ANGER ISN'T RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE IT TAKES JUSTICE INTO YOUR OWN HANDS

“Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay’ ” (Rom. 12:19).

Human anger keeps records of offenses and takes responsibility for revenge. When an offense is mainly against me (rather than God), then I suppose justice lies within my power. I become the judge, putting myself in God’s place, and arrogantly take justice into my own hands.

Human anger is a brand of unbelief—a failure to trust God to bring the justice he has promised. Faith, on the other hand, exchanges anger for trust and leaves justice where it belongs: in God’s hands.

6. YOUR ANGER ISN'T RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE IT'S CONSUMING YOU 

“Do not be overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:21).

Anger has an uncanny ability to overcome and control us, yet God would have us control it. Often our anger becomes all-consuming, dominating our emotions, our moods, our attitudes. It even affects our physical health, sleep, and productivity. Like a fire that rages out of control, anger running wild threatens to burn us up in the process.

7. YOUR ANGER ISN'T RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE IT'S BEEN GIVEN TIME TO FESTER

“Do not let the sun go down on your anger” (Eph. 4:26).

This verse does not clearly prohibit anger—it simply imposes a time limit. Paul recognizes the fallenness of human relationships, the daily temptation to anger, and the constant necessity of repentance. This is a call to reconciliation, not a blanket permission for unqualified rage during daylight hours.

And even if Paul does allow room for “righteous anger,” he protects us from its fermentation. Human nature can easily turn even righteous indignation into sin. Therefore, we must not hold on to it for one moment longer than is necessary.

8. YOUR ANGER ISN'T RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE THE DEVIL BENEFITS FROM IT

“And give no opportunity to the devil” (Eph. 4:27).

Anger—especially when cultivated, nurtured, and allowed to fester—is the devil’s playground. A murderer from the beginning, the devil loves anger and is keenly aware of its slippery slope. Unfettered anger plays into his hands, pays him homage, and furthers an agenda opposed to God.

9. YOUR ANGER ISN'T RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE IT'LL COME BACK TO BITE YOU 

“Everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment” (Matt. 5:22).

Jesus calls attention to the eternal consequences of anger. Not only does it affect us and those around us in the present, but its effects could remain with us forever. When we heap burning coals on our own heads, we’re liable to carry the scars forever.

10. YOUR ANGER ISN'T RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE IT AVOIDS FORGIVENESS 

“But if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matt. 6:15).

Human anger refuses to consider forgiveness as an option, but Jesus’ words are clear: forgiveness unextended implies forgiveness unaccepted. The ultimate moral ugliness in the New Testament is a refusal to forgive.

But forgiveness is difficult. As Tim Keller writes, “When you forgive, that means you absorb the loss and the debt. You bear it yourself. All forgiveness, then, is costly.”

We don’t want to pay that debt. We are often unwilling to take on that cost because it feels like a loss for us.

In Christ, we have access to a forgiveness that absorbs our debt. Whereas my anger is for me at everyone else’s expense, Christ’s love is for me at his own expense. In him, we encounter a love that is completely for us. The one who has every right to be angry with sinners chooses to absorb his own anger. In the mysterious beauty of Christ’s love, we are freed from the prison of our own anger and provided with the freedom and resources to forgive.

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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. You can follow him on Twitter (@mikephay) or check out his blog.

What I Didn't Learn in Seminary: How to Shepherd My Wife

My wife, Charlotte, and I got married young. She was nineteen and I was twenty-one. I came from a good Christian home. My parents and grandparents were all Christians. Charlotte, in stark contrast, came out of a broken home. Both of her parents were alcoholics. They divorced when she was seven. At age nine she, her sister, and her brother were placed in the Georgia Baptist Children’s Home, where she lived until she was eighteen. During those years she almost never saw her parents. Her father did not attend our wedding, though he lived in the Atlanta area where we were married.

I say all this to point out that we came into our marriage with very different perspectives and expectations. I knew what a good home was and recognized that good was good. Perfection, though the ideal, would not be reached in this life since marriage is two sinners (saved by grace if they know Jesus!) living in close proximity.

Charlotte was absolutely determined not to follow in the footsteps of her parents. She was going to have the perfect marriage if it killed us both (and it nearly did on more than a few occasions)!

Add to this that we had no premarital counseling, for three reasons: (1) The year before we married, I attended Bible college in Dallas, and she was in Atlanta living with my parents. (2) The week before we married, our pastor—who married us—announced that he and his wife were getting a divorce. The one time we did meet with him, he apologized through tears, saying he really did not feel he could say anything to us. (3) In almost seven years of Bible college and seminary, I had exactly one class on marriage and family, which came outside my seminary education. I have no memory of a discussion on the home in seminary. None at all.

Given this background, you can imagine that our early days of marriage were quite challenging. Some were downright trying. Charlotte and I loved each other, and divorce was never an option, but all was not blissful, and the sailing was not smooth. We had some tough days.

I am writing this piece having just celebrated our thirty-eighth wedding anniversary. I can honestly say that outside of Jesus, nothing has brought me more happiness and joy than being a husband, father, and grandfather. But it has been hard work, and no one in seminary ever told me it would be. I have learned through the years and in the school of “hard knocks” that there are things I could have done to shepherd my wife more effectively and lovingly. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn these things during my years in seminary.

I have had the joy of doing marriage and family conferences for several decades. You could say it is my spiritual hobby. Charlotte says I need to do at least one a month because I keep forgetting what I teach! Unfortunately, there is quite a bit of truth in those words.

When it comes to husbands, I first do an exposition of Ephesians 5:25–33. Then, I build on that foundation, draw from other relevant passages, and share seven practical ways to bless your wife day in and day out. I would argue that these ideas are true for every husband. I would also argue that they are especially needful for those who shepherd God’s flock. I wish I had been taught these things in seminary. But better later than never.

7 WAYS TO BLESS YOUR WIFE

A husband can be a blessing to his wife by loving her as Christ loved the church and giving her specific gifts of love. Here are seven:

1. Be a spiritual leader. Be a man of godly courage, conviction, commitment, compassion, and character. Take the initiative in cultivating a spiritual environment for your family. Become a capable and competent student of Scripture, and live all of life on the basis of God’s Word. Nurture your wife in her growth as a woman of God, and take the lead in training your children in the things of the Lord (Psalm 1; Eph. 5:23–27).

2. Give your wife personal affirmation and appreciation. Praise her personal attributes and qualities. Speak of her virtues as a wife, mother, and homemaker. Openly commend her in the hearing of others as a marvelous mate, friend, lover, and companion. Help her feel that no one in this world is more important to you (Prov. 31:28– 29; Song 4:1–7; 6:4–9; 7:1–9).

3. Show personal affection (romance). Shower her with timely and generous displays of affection. Tell her how much you care for her with a steady flow of words, cards, flowers, gifts, and common courtesies. Remember, affection is the environment in which sexual union is enjoyed more fully and a wonderful marriage is developed (Song 6:10, 13; Eph. 5:28–29, 33).

4. Initiate intimate conversation. Talk with her at the level of feelings (heart to heart). Listen to her thoughts (her heart) about the events of her day with sensitivity, interest, and concern. Let your conversations with her convey a desire to understand her—not to change her (Song 2:8–14; 8:13–14; 1 Pet. 3:7). Changing her is God’s job, not yours.

5. Always be honest and open. Look into her eyes and, in love, always tell her the truth (Eph. 4:15). Explain your plans and actions clearly and completely because you are responsible for her. Lead her to trust you and feel secure (Prov. 15:22–23).

6. Provide home support and stability. Shoulder the responsibility to house, feed, and clothe your family. Provide and protect, and resist feeling sorry for yourself when things get tough. Look for concrete ways to improve home life. Raise your marriage and family to a safer and more fulfilling level. Remember, the husband and father is the security hub of the family (1 Tim. 5:8).

7. Demonstrate family commitment. After the Lord Jesus, put your wife and family first. Commit time and energy to spiritual, moral, and intellectual development of your children. For example, pray with them (especially at night at bedside), read to them, engage in sports with them, and take them on other outings. Do not play the fool’s game of working long hours, trying to get ahead, while your spouse and children languish in neglect (Eph. 6:4; Col. 3:19–20).[1]

These are things I did not learn in seminary. I had to learn them in life. And I’m grateful I learned them from expositing the Word of God!

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Content taken from 15 Things Seminary Couldn't Teach Me edited by Collin Hansen and Jeff Robinson Sr., ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

[1] For related discussion, see also Daniel L. Akin, “Pastor as Husband and Father,” in Portraits of a Pastor: The 9 Essential Roles of a Church Leader, ed. Jason K. Allen (Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2017), and Akin, Exalting Jesus in Song of Songs (Nashville: B&H, 2015).

Daniel L. Akin is president of Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in Wake Forest, North Carolina, and is a council member with The Gospel Coalition.

A Light In the Dark Places

In J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic The Lord of the Rings trilogy, a royal elf named Galadriel gives Frodo Baggins a splendid gift—light from the “beloved star” Earendil, captured within a small crystal that Frodo may use to light the way should he find himself in the dark. Without giving too much away, let’s just say Galadriel’s foresight turned out to be useful for a very sticky situation. The brilliance of the star of Earendil is fiction, but it gives us a glimpse of the true brilliance found in the Son of Man, the true radiance of the glory of Christ himself (Heb. 1:3). No light is purer for our path or brighter to our eyes than his unapproachable and marvelous light (1 Tim. 6:6; 1 Pet. 2:9).

This very light—stunningly—has been offered to us for our own journeys. “The true light . . . gives light to everyone” (John 1:9). But what is this light exactly? As David reflected on the gift of light for his Christian journey, he sings, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Ps. 119:105, emphasis mine).

It is incongruous that many believers can rehearse those very words from David by memory and yet live as if such a gift is unnecessary. The light has lost its luster in our eyes. We start to complain when troubles come our way. We ask God to give us a sign for which way to turn, but we haven’t turned the lamp on. If his Word is our lamp and a light for the road, why do we always neglect to pack it for the trip?

We all know that obstacles on the path of life are inevitable realities. Perhaps you feel the weight of your own trials and troubles right now. You feel that all the lights have gone out. Where can you turn for guidance? Each of us needs God’s Word if we have any hope of walking the road without stumbling or getting off-course.

HIDDEN LIGHT

Scripture memorization, or the practice of hiding God’s Word in our hearts, is the premier way we are guided by the lamp and light. It is not simply God’s Word with us, but in us. To read God’s Word is good; to reflect on it is better; to pray it is better still. But to know and feel his Word is altogether best. When the Word takes root in our hearts and minds, the light becomes brighter along our paths and no darkness will be too great.

In his book Moonwalking With Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything, journalist Joshua Foer tells the story of his journey from covering the United States Memory Championship to him competing in—and winning—the event a year later. He trained his mind to suddenly be able to memorize the order of two shuffled decks of cards or recall hundreds of random faces paired with random names, all within a few short minutes.

But in a book full of insight on memorization, it is Foer’s off-hand remark about halfway through that struck me: “In a tight spot, where could one look for guidance about how to act, if not the depths of memory?”

Foer’s book was not meant to be an exercise in spiritual disciplines, but the implications for Scripture memorization are obvious. Just as we all memorize the layout of our bedrooms and bathrooms enough to be able to navigate them safely in the dark morning hours, so we have also been invited to know God’s Word in the midst of dark times. In our trials, it is not the visible light that counts so much as the “hidden light” within us. God’s Word helps us navigate life when the path ahead is dimly lit.

JUST DO IT

I know what you are thinking at this point. The idea of Scripture memorization sounds like a nice idea, but you already have written it off. You may see the value in all of these challenges to hide God’s Word in your heart, but still think it beyond your ability. You explain your own need for Bible memorization away, saying it is not in your spiritual gift mix.

But have you really tried it?

Most of us, sadly, have not. We assume Bible memorization requires an intellectual capacity beyond what God has given us. That would be awfully cruel of God, to command us in his Word to prioritize grasping his Word in our heart and not give us the tools we need to do so. I don’t believe this is the case. The level of access to tools that help us hide God’s Word in our heart is truly amazing; we simply have to want it enough. We just have to do it.

THE BENEFITS OF MEMORIZATION

If we will do the work of storing up God’s light, the benefits are manifold. There are three ways worth dwelling on that the brilliance of the Word of God hidden in the heart helps us in our trials, temptations, and troubles of life.

First, God’s Word stored in our hearts equips us in the fight against sin. There is no greater example of the benefits of memorization than the life of David. David, a man known for zig-zagging along the road of righteous living, was a master sinner (just like you and I). He was a master deceiver of his own heart. But in David’s best moments, the Spirit compelled and helped David store up God’s Word as he fought the sin in his life (Ps. 119:11). Temptation often demands a quick, reactionary decision from us. In these moments, will we live by the flesh or by the Spirit? Will we pursue wickedness or righteousness? As we become memorizers of Scripture, it becomes easier to hang in the tension of temptation, to feed the truths of Scripture to our mind and heart, and to help us make an informed, thought-out decision to flee temptation and pursue righteousness (2 Tim. 2:22).

Second, God’s Word stored in our hearts encourages us when prayers go unanswered. Don’t believe the charlatan preachers that tell you God will answer all of your prayers as you want him to. If you’ve lived long enough, you know that some prayers go unanswered, or you get the answer you did not expect. These are hard moments in the Christian life. But God’s Word being in our hearts readily brings to mind His promises to us, which are rich in every respect. Perhaps you are praying against a particular suffering in your life, and it does not seem to be going away. Bringing God’s promise to mind in Romans 8:18, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” may not bring immediate relief, but it does bring eternal comfort. Sometimes, in these dark places, we have to “preach the gospel to ourselves,” as Jerry Bridges often said.

Third, God’s Word stored in our hearts keeps families afloat. I have written about the benefits of memorizing catechisms and creeds in the home, which are certainly helpful. But this should never replace or supersede the memorization of Scripture. I believe that a family’s effort to memorize Scripture together is one of the simplest and most beautiful methods of family discipleship we can participate in. When a family walks through a difficult season together, how encouraging it would be for parents to remind their children of the verses they need to hear (or children remind their parents!) in those moments. A family that speaks God’s Word to one another continually is God’s vision for the home (Deut. 6:6-9).

Finally, God’s Word stored in our hearts brings vigor to our soul. On many occasions, the Psalms link the practice of Bible memorization with spiritual vitality (Ps. 1:2; 40:8; 119:16, 52, 129). We spend a lot of time as Christians talking about the pursuit of glorifying God in our lives, yet that doesn’t often materialize in our day-to-day activities. Making Scripture memorization a routine part of our Christian life can certainly change that. Hiding God’s Word in our heart will only deepen our affection for his Word and create a thirst in us to know him better, indeed, “equipped for every good work” (2 Tim. 3:17).

May Scripture be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.

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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.

Why the Resurrection is No April Fools' Prank

It was only a matter of time before they were caught. You can’t hide 5,000 people believing in Christ. Peter and John, sore from spending the night in jail, were shoved into the presence of the rulers and scribes. The members of the high-priestly family stood. The crowd hushed.

“By what power or by what name did you do this?”

The question hung in the air. Everyone expects them to say, “Jesus”—but would they do so in the face of beatings, and maybe even death?

Peter rises to his feet, surveying the scene. Then it happens again—the promised Spirit fills him for the task at hand. Unsure of what he’s about to say, he opens his mouth in faith and declares,

“This Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone. And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.”

These words were offensive then—and they’re offensive now.

AN EXCLUSIVE CLAIM 

Do you find Peter’s claim of exclusive salvation through Jesus Christ alone offensive? How could he make such a bold claim?

Flavius Josephus (37-97 AD), a defected Jew turned court historian for Emperor Vespasian, is quoted in AD 324 by Eusebius, and speaks of “Jesus, a wise man” who was condemned to the cross and then “appeared to them alive again the third day.” Belief in this Jesus turned the Roman empire upside down in just a few years.

But it wasn’t merely belief in Jesus that propelled the movement; it was a belief in his life, death, and—most importantly—his resurrection from the dead that was the chief apologetic of the early church.

We see this exclusive claim of salvation in Christ over and again in the New Testament. In Acts 4:10, Peter made his claim for the exclusivity of Christ largely based on the resurrection of Christ: “Let it be known to all of you and to all the people of Israel that by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead—by him this man is standing before you well.” Similarly, Paul on Mars Hill contended that “[God] has fixed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed; and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead” (Acts 17:31).

The apostles continually referenced the resurrection as their chief argument for the truth of Jesus’ claims.

A SIGNIFICANT CLAIM

Why is the resurrection of Christ so significant? Because Christianity stands or falls on the truth of the resurrection (1 Cor. 15:14-17). The resurrection also reveals that  Christ has the power to raise us from the dead (John 11:25-26). Third, it confirms the validity of Christ’s teachings about his own deity.

Because a real man Jesus rose from the dead, he proved his own claim to divinity, sealed the salvation he promised to purchase, and now demands that we trust and submit to him.

Philosopher and broadcaster C.E.M. Joad was once asked who he would most want to interview if he could choose anyone from all of history. He chose Jesus and said that he wanted to ask him the most important question in the world: “Did you, or did you not, rise from the dead?”

The resurrection, more than any religious claim, is investigable and therefore verifiable because it is a historical—not a philosophical—claim. And if it is true, it has universal implications.

The resurrection is the foundation of Christianity: if Jesus were dead, the church of Jesus would be speechless, powerless, and pointless. Yet we find in history that a handful of devastated Apostles frenzied the first century with the message that Jesus of Nazareth rose from the dead. They gave their lives for this message—a message, we must not forget, they would know to be true or not.

These men—the ones who heard the hammers crush nine-inch nails through Jesus’ bones, saw the spear pierce his lifeless flesh, and watched the corpse of Christ be removed from the cross—were convinced of the resurrection. They weren’t giving their lives for some dogma, but for the man they knew and loved named Jesus, who they saw, touched, and talked with after his horrible and humiliating death.

A SPECIFIC CLAIM

The resurrection of Jesus Christ is recorded in all four gospels—the same divine, multi-faceted, unified truth is presented from different, harmonious perspectives. A summation of these accounts is found in the ancient Christian creed (probably from about 37 A.D.) in 1 Corinthians 15:3-8.

These gospel writers, as representatives of early Christianity, make clear their assertion: the resurrection of Jesus Christ was a predicted, bodily, historical event.

Jesus’ resurrection was predicted in the Old Testament, centuries before Jesus was born in Bethlehem. In the messianic Psalm 16, David speaks prophetically: “You will not abandon my soul … or let your holy one see corruption” (v. 10). In the New Testament, Jesus explained to his disciples before his death that he would rise from the dead: “From that time Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised” (Matt. 16:21).

Jesus’ predictions were so well known that even his enemies were aware he planned to rise from the dead (see Matt. 27:63). Jesus’ resurrection was prophesied hundreds of years before his birth, and in the days immediately preceding his death.

Jesus’ resurrection was also a bodily resurrection. The New Testament makes it plain that Jesus literally and physically rose from the grave. Thomas was able to put his finger into Jesus’ nail-prints and feel the spear-wound in his side (John 20:27). Luke tells us that, when the resurrected Jesus appeared to his frightened disciples in a locked room, he invited them to handle his body, and then ate in front of them to assure them it was him and not just a spirit (24:36-43).

Christ’s resurrection was also historical. This was no April Fools' Day prank. As we’ve already seen, it is referenced by numerous Christian and non-Christian historical sources. Christianity is not based on a myth or fairytale.

AN INVESTIGABLE CLAIM

The evidence for the resurrection is plentiful. First, there is the empty tomb. If the tomb were full, no one would have believed the disciples’ testimony. The Jews would certainly have produced the body if they could have and silenced the apostles. However, they couldn’t, and subsequently, we see Christianity explode around the known world in (historically speaking) no time at all.

Second, the eyewitness testimony of the apostles (John 20:19-20; 1 Pet. 3:18-21; Matt. 28:16-17; 1 Cor. 15:3-8) verifies Jesus’ resurrection. Three of these four witnesses died for their testimony, and all of them suffered for it.

Third, the Sabbath was changed to Sunday by devout Jews. The only reason such a ground-shift in a centuries-long tradition would occur is if something tremendous and extraordinary—a sign from God—had taken place.

Finally, consider the remarkable growth of the church. The early church—against great opposition, persecution, and rejection—grew by leaps and bounds in the first century. This can only be explained by some incontrovertible evidence, especially as many of their converts (e.g. Saul of Tarsus, better known as the Apostle Paul) came from among their enemies.

Despite all of this, you may still be skeptical of—or indifferent to—the evidence for and implications of the resurrection of Jesus. The gospel writers, as am I, are sympathetic to the doubting or struggling investigator. In fact, the disciples themselves were slow to believe. But once they were convinced, they became irrepressibly inspired.

In the resurrected Christ, even the skeptic may find the confirmation he or she needs in order to turn to Jesus. Truly, there is salvation in no one else; his is the only name under heaven by which we must be saved.

The resurrected Jesus has the power to escape a sealed tomb and enter a locked room. If you are a skeptic, may he enter the locked room of your heart and bring you out of unbelief. And may you find yourself, like the Apostles and millions of others, irrepressibly inspired to tell others about the poor, wandering rabbi from Nazareth who came not to serve, but to be served, and to give his life as a ransom for many—including you.

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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.

The Astonishing Humiliation of Christ

It is utterly astonishing that the faithful servant of the Lord, the promised deliverer of Israel, would be put on public display in a horrifying, humiliating fashion. That is the very word Isaiah uses: “Many were astonished at you—his appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of the children of mankind” (Isa. 52:14). That verse is an abrupt and startling interruption set between two verses that describe the servant’s honor, influence, and exaltation. It is written in a way that purposely magnifies the reader’s astonishment. The sudden shift in topics—from exaltation to humiliation with no warning or transition whatsoever—illustrates the reason “many were astonished.” Putting it simply, as we keep stressing, the death of the promised Messiah was profoundly shocking. It seems no one besides Jesus himself was prepared for his death.

Incidentally, the Hebrew word translated “astonished” is a rich one. The English word is capable of being used in a very positive sense. It’s used, for example, in Mark 7:37, where it describes the people’s fascination and delight after Jesus healed a deaf man, and Scripture says “they were astonished beyond measure, saying, ‘He has done all things well.’” When he taught the multitudes, “they were astonished at his teaching, for his word possessed authority” (Luke 4:32). And when he healed a boy with an unclean spirit, “all were astonished at the majesty of God” (Luke 9:43).

Isaiah 52:14 is speaking about a different kind of astonishment. Isaiah uses a Hebrew term (shamem) that is never used to describe a positive reaction. It’s closer to the English word appalled. But it’s even stronger than that. It speaks of being totally devastated. In fact it’s a term that can describe the total defeat of an army or the utter desolation of a vast region that has fallen into ruins. (Isaiah used this word in 49:19 to describe the land of Judah after the Chaldean armies had demolished almost every trace of human habitation. He spoke of “your desolate [shamem] places and your devastated land.”)

DEVASTATED AT THE DISFIGUREMENT OF CHRIST

The same Hebrew word is used quite frequently in the Old Testament, and it is usually translated “left desolate” or “laid waste.” But when used in a context such as Isaiah 52:14, the word has the connotation of horror. It speaks of a shock so staggering that one loses control of all rational faculties. It could be translated “numbed,” “petrified,” or “paralyzed.”

So this is a very strong word with a broad range of uses but a very clear meaning. Leviticus 26:32 uses the word twice in a kind of play on words that shows its wide semantic range. God himself is speaking, and he says, “I myself will devastate [shamem] the land, so that your enemies who settle in it shall be appalled [shamem] at it.”

Isaiah employs the term to describe the dismay of those who would witness the atrocious injuries inflicted on the suffering servant. They were devastated. But the damage done to him is indescribably worse: “His appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of the children of mankind” (Isa. 52:14). In other words, he would be so disfigured from the sufferings inflicted on him that his face and body would not even appear to be human.

The marring and disfigurement in view here are of course a description of what took place immediately prior to our Lord’s crucifixion, while he was on trial. Jesus’s disfigurement actually began in Gethsemane on the night of his betrayal and arrest. Scripture describes the deep, inward anguish and utter physical exhaustion he experienced as the sinless Son of God contemplated sin bearing and separation from his Father. He was literally sweating blood at the thought of what he would suffer on behalf of sinners. So he would have been weak and haggard-looking even before he was dragged away and put on trial.

THE DESOLATION OF CHRIST

But what left him “so marred, beyond human semblance” were the many tortures inflicted on him by those who put him to death. We know from the Gospel accounts that Jesus was struck on the head, spat upon, mocked, and flogged. He was beaten and abused by the chief priests (Matt. 26:67–68), the temple guard (Mark 14:65), and the Romans (Matt. 27:27–30). Added to that was the terrible scourging he received on Pilate’s orders (John 19:1).

To be flogged with a Roman scourge was a severe, even life-threatening punishment. The victim was lashed mercilessly with a flagellum, a short whip consisting of a wooden handle to which long leather thongs were attached. Each strip of leather had sharp pieces of bone, iron, and zinc held in place by knots spaced an inch or two apart (for a foot or more) along the business end of each thong. The victim would be tied to a post with his hands above his head and his feet suspended off the ground, stretching his body taught. As the biting strands of the flagellum tore into his back, muscles would be lacerated, veins cut, and internal organs exposed. So massive was the trauma inflicted that the scourging itself did sometimes prove fatal.

Of course, when the sentence called for crucifixion, death by the scourge was an undesirable outcome. A skilled lictor (the officer wielding the scourge) knew just how to apply the instrument in a way that would maximize the pain and injury, yet keep the victim alive so that the sentence of crucifixion could be carried out.

Crucifixion was the most brutal form of public execution ever devised. The injuries inflicted in the process were unspeakably savage. Nevertheless, the New Testament narrative makes very little mention of the actual wounds Christ suffered. After the resurrection, Jesus himself spoke of the wounds in his hands and side (John 20:27). But the New Testament doesn’t attempt to describe in detail the severity of Jesus’s injuries. Anyone within the realm of Roman influence would already be familiar with the awful damage done to a person’s body by crucifixion.

PROPHECIES OF THE SUFFERING SERVANT

Therefore, the Old Testament prophecies about Christ’s death tell us more about the humiliating injuries he suffered than the New Testament does. Isaiah 52:14 is the Bible’s most graphic one-verse description of our Lord’s extreme disfigurement—his face so marred that he no longer appeared to be human. Psalm 22 provides even more insight into what Jesus endured on the cross. That psalm begins with the very words Christ uttered on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The psalm also quotes the words of those who mocked the Savior as he hung there: “He trusts in the Lord; let him deliver him; let him rescue him, for he delights in him!” (v. 8; cf. Matt. 27:42).

So there can be no doubt what Psalm 22 refers to. This is Christ’s own testimony about the cross, given to us prophetically in a psalm that was written at least a thousand years before it was fulfilled. He says,

I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast; my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death.

For dogs encompass me; a company of evildoers encircles me; they have pierced my hands and feet— I can count all my bones— they stare and gloat over me. (vv. 14–17)

That describes the crucifixion of Christ with uncanny accuracy, even though it was written centuries before anyone ever thought of executing criminals this way. The piercing of hands and feet refers, of course, to the nails used to fasten Jesus to the cross. Jesus’s bones would be wrenched “out of joint” when (after nailing him to the cross) the executioners would lift the cross upright and let it drop into a post-hole that had been dug deep enough to allow the cross to stand upright. The bone-jarring impact would dislocate multiple joints throughout the body. The bones could be counted because extreme trauma and dehydration left him an almost skeletal figure. The surrounding “company of evildoers” is precisely what the Gospel accounts describe (Mark 15:27–32). The phrase “my heart . . . melted within my breast” is the very image one gets from John’s description of the scene when “one of the soldiers pierced [Jesus’s] side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water” (John 19:34).

THE GRUESOME ORIGINS OF CRUCIFIXION

Again, Psalm 22 is a precise prophetic description of the results of crucifixion, more graphic than we get even from the New Testament eyewitness accounts. Yet the earliest mention of crucifixion in any historical record refers to an event that occurred five hundred years after David. When Darius I conquered Babylon for the second time in 519 BC, he had three thousand of the city’s most prominent men impaled and left to die slowly.[1] The practice was subsequently adopted as a means of public execution because of the way it struck terror into the hearts of those who witnessed it. Various forms of impalement and crucifixion were employed by world empires for the next five hundred years. The Greeks generally scorned the practice and used it only sparingly. It was the Romans who perfected a method that would keep victims suffering in agony for three days or longer.

A nineteenth-century English church leader, Frederic Farrar, wrote this description of the horrors of crucifixion:

[On a cross], in tortures which grew ever more insupportable, ever more maddening as time owed on, the unhappy victims might linger in a living death so cruelly intolerable, that often they were driven to entreat and implore the spectators, or the executioners, for dear pity’s sake, to put an end to anguish too awful for man to bear—conscious to the last, and often, with tears of abject misery, beseeching from their enemies the priceless boon of death.

For indeed a death by crucifixion seems to include all that pain and death can have of horrible and ghastly—dizziness, cramp, thirst, starvation, sleeplessness, traumatic fever, tetanus, publicity of shame, long continuance of torment, horror of anticipation, mortification of untended wounds—all intensified just up to the point at which they can be endured at all, but all stopping just short of the point which would give to the sufferer the relief of unconsciousness. The unnatural position made every movement painful; the lacerated veins and crushed tendons throbbed with incessant anguish; the wounds, inflamed by exposure, gradually gangrened; the arteries—especially of the head and stomach—became swollen and oppressed with surcharged blood; and while each variety of misery went on gradually increasing, there was added to them the intolerable pang of a burning and raging thirst; and all these physical complications caused an internal excitement and anxiety, which made the prospect of death itself—of death, the awful unknown enemy, at whose approach man usually shudders most—bear the aspect of a delicious and exquisite release.[2]

FROM HUMILIATION TO EXALTATION

Isaiah 52:14 must be understood in that light. The brutal treatment Jesus suffered left him so maimed and mangled that he hardly looked human.

The people’s astonishment expressed their contempt. It reflects the profound shock they felt as they saw Jesus’s humiliation. They found him repulsive, far from their conception of what the Messiah King should be like. His degradation was the deepest possible, the most severe, and the most horrible.

But in contrast, his exaltation would be the highest, most profound, and most glorious.

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[1] Herodotus, Histories, 3.159.

[2] Frederic William Farrar, The Sweet Story of Jesus: The Life of Christ (New York: Common- wealth, 1891), 619. For an analysis of the medical aspects of crucifixion, see William D. Edwards, Wesley J. Gabel, and Floyd E. Hosmer, “On the Physical Death of Jesus Christ,” Journal of the American Medical Association 255 (March 21, 1986): 1455–63.

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Content taken from The Gospel according to God: Rediscovering the Most Remarkable Chapter in the Old Testament by John MacArthur, ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

John MacArthur is the pastor-teacher of Grace Community Church in Sun Valley, California, where he has served since 1969. He is known around the world for his verse-by-verse expository preaching and his pulpit ministry via his daily radio program, Grace to You. He has also written or edited nearly four hundred books and study guides. MacArthur serves as the president of the Master’s University and Seminary. He and his wife, Patricia, live in Southern California and have four grown children.

How the Resurrection Reshapes Success and Regret

The Discovery is a 2017 film about a scientist who makes a find so significant it drastically alters the world. He discovers brain waves continue to emit from the mind after a person is dead. What’s so significant about that? It’s scientific proof of an afterlife. Somehow, someway, the deceased’s brain continues to function after their heart has stopped.

People respond by committing suicide, millions of them, all around the world. Why? With definitive proof of an afterlife, they now have hope for a better life. They don’t have to linger in loneliness or struggle with cancer. All they have to do is pull the trigger, and they can be reunited with their loved ones.

If you had definitive proof of an afterlife, how would you respond? If you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, you’d enter another life after you die, what would you do? Would you pull the trigger?

PULLING THE TRIGGER

St. Paul also made a powerful discovery that radically altered history. He encountered a person from the other side, the resurrected Christ, and came to believe that Jesus was not only raised from the dead, but all who hope in him will be raised to eternal life.

But his response was different. Instead of taking his life, he gave his life. Instead of leaping to find what’s on the other side, he transformed his life on this side. You could say he “pulled the trigger” on his old life, and his old life wasn’t too shabby.

He formerly went by Saul and, according to the standards of Judaism, Saul was no slacker. He was circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin (Phil. 3:5). In other words, he wasn’t a newbie in the faith; he was circumcised so early he was raised in the faith. And of all the ethnicities in the world, he was from the chosen people. And out of all of Israel, he was from a special tribe, the tribe that furnished Israel with their very first king. Saul had a great pedigree, but he had even more.

His zeal eclipsed many of his contemporaries, aligning him with some of Israel’s greats (Moses, Elijah, Phineas). An expert in the Law, Saul was esteemed by many. You might say he was the Steve Jobs of Judaism, with a passion for perfection to go with it. Saul arrested and persecuted Christians who perverted his Jewish faith. No one questioned his commitment, until his encounter with the risen Christ.

Then something switched, and his zeal ran toward Christ in a life of hopeful self-denial. He traveled unreliable roads and weathered seas throughout the Mediterranean to share the good news about Jesus, all while living off of his tent business and the support of friends. He wrote letters to struggling churches, and his writings eventually comprised half the New Testament. Along the way, he encountered misunderstanding, ridicule, rejection, prison, flogging, and even shipwreck. Yet he persisted. Why? The resurrection of Jesus had radically changed his notion of success.

REDISCOVERING SUCCESS

If you’ve been around successful people, you know how suddenly small and insignificant it can make you feel. A tiny voice pops into your head and starts interrogating you. What have you accomplished? What do you have to show? Why is that?

Sociologist Ernest Becker says it’s a response to death. Sensing our ephemeral nature, we create what he calls “immortality projects.” We might get a higher degree, establish a family, start a business, engage in philanthropy, or take a selfie, all in an attempt to avert death. We’re haunted by questions like, “What will people think about me after I die? What will they say at my funeral? Will anyone remember me?”

Becker says this undeniable impulse is an attempt to deny death. To construct a way for us to live on, long after we are gone. Paul comes along and puts a gun to his immortality project when he says, “But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ (Phil. 3:7–8). Resurrection fundamentally alters the meaning of success.

Paul looks back at all his accomplishments and describes them as loss—three times he uses the word. What would compel a person of his stature to throw shade on his success? Christ. Each time he mentions loss, he pairs it with a gain: loss for the sake of Christ, loss because of the surpassing worth of Christ, counting achievement as rubbish to gain Christ.

The word surpassing means “above the mark.” He’s saying when I stack my accomplishments next to Jesus, they can’t even see him. The risen Christ is so good he’s off the scale, valuable beyond measure. By comparison, my accomplishments are rubbish.

Instead, success is this: “knowing Christ and the power of his resurrection” (3:10). It’s knowing the one who holds all things together, the God who swallows death, the rider on the white horse who will judge the quick and the dead, the King of a renewed creation. Knowing him is the greatest discovery—ever. And when you’ve got the greatest thing, you can live without a lot of things.

GLORY IN REGRET

Eventually, the scientific crew working on the “the discovery” realizes the post-mortem brain signals are actually connected to episodes of a person’s past, not to an afterlife. When they convert the waves into images, they observe the episodes actually are moments of regret in a person’s life. Unknowingly, the suicides are waking up, not to a circle of loved ones but moments of intense regret. The central character gets stuck in a loop trying to prevent the suicide of a woman he loves.

Faith in Jesus, however, does not lead to an eternal loop of regret. Rather, to borrow a phrase from C. S. Lewis, it allows heaven to work backward. The meaning, love, joy, and goodness of heaven are transported back into the heart through union with Christ, which helps us weather things like loneliness and cancer.

Of course, our experience of heaven working backward is uneven. We are, after all, still on earth so to speak. And once we reach heaven, Lewis notes that even a past agony, and I’ll add even a regret, will turn into a glory. Why? Because that old pain will serve to intensify the present, everlasting comfort of Christ’s nail-scarred hands. Our regret will be faint, but a vivid reminder of the grand discovery—the remarkable mercy of Christ, who rose to forgive and renew all things.

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Jonathan K. Dodson (M.Div, Th.M) is the founding pastor of City Life Church in Austin, TX which he started with his wife, Robie, and a small group of people. They have three children. He is also the founder of GCDiscipleship.com and author of a number of books including Gospel-Centered Discipleship, and Here in Spirit: Knowing the Spirit who Creates, Sustains, and Transforms All Things (IVP, 2018).

Mad for Basketball, Foolish for Christ

March Madness is upon us. My husband spends hours teaching our boys the art of bracketology. My boys' work ethic displayed through perfecting their brackets is inspiring. Why can’t they apply this passion to their geometry homework? As a mother of four sons, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that any plans I had to engage in a non-basketball-related conversation have been rescheduled for April. During this time of year, my house is overrun with cheering, shouting, and surprises. Whoever decided to call the NCAA Tournament season March Madness rightly understood its effect on basketball fans.

With my free time this March, I’m wondering about madness as it relates to faith. Madness can be defined as, “extremely foolish behavior.” Usually, that’s not a good thing, but March turns that expectation on its head. (And sometimes that madness turns the bowl of Doritos on the floor after a buzzer-beater—but that’s another matter.)

We accept the cultural norm of going a little crazy over basketball, or any sport really, but forget to be enthusiastic about the kingdom of God. Imagine the kingdom-impact of millions of zealous people united in Christ to advance the gospel.

The end of March presents an opportunity for sports enthusiasts to go a little mad. Every day presents an opportunity for the church to be known for our madness for the Lord.

MISSIONS MADNESS

According to Joshua Project, of the almost 7.5 billion people in the world, only about ten percent claim to be evangelical Christians. Three billion live among unreached people groups. Ninety percent of the world is lost, and many of them live in countries hostile to the gospel. What does this mean for the church? It means we need more madness for evangelism.

We have been entrusted with the most significant mission of all time. We are commissioned to make disciples of all nations (Matt. 28:19). We are gospel-advancers; the gospel doesn’t advance when we retreat. We must go.

We must reject the assumption that someone else will go. Why not us? We need to embrace the unfamiliar for the sake of the gospel. We may need to abandon the comforts of our current zip code so others may know an eternal home in heaven.

We can’t be casual about advancing the gospel. We must passionately combat the darkness with the light. We must get a little crazy about evangelism.

DISCIPLE-MAKING MADNESS

Making disciples starts with making converts, but it doesn’t end there. It continues with the work of discipleship—teaching followers of Christ how to obey his Word (Matt. 28:20).

Particularly in America, we’ve bought into an individualistic theology. I stay out of your business and you stay out of mine. We have compartmentalized our faith to the point that it serves as mere window-dressing to our lives. However, obedience to God’s command to make disciples requires us to be fully invested in one another. We must come alongside each other, helping one another understand what it means to follow Christ.

We depend on one another to point out blind spots, to hold us accountable, to instruct us in the Word, to champion us in our pilgrimage. We must reject the temptation to isolate ourselves from the Christian community. We must seek out spiritual siblings to walk with, discipling one another as we go. We harm each other when we let sin go unchecked in our lives. As believers, we are our brother’s keeper.

Our younger siblings in the faith are counting on us to teach them how to be mad for Christ. In the same way a junior on the team can help a rookie get up to speed with how things work on and off the court, how we lead those younger in the faith than us matters. We need passionate teachers. We need to get a little crazy about discipleship.

WORSHIP MADNESS

We advance the gospel and make disciples because our God is worthy of the worship of the nations. “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord” (Ps. 150:6).

One of my favorite things about my local church is our celebration of the gospel through baptism. New believers share their story of deliverance from the domain of darkness into the kingdom of Christ (Col. 1:13). One of our elders immerses them in water. They rise from the water to thundering applause.

I'm not talking about a polite clap. We shout. We hoot and holler. We whistle. We cry. We celebrate the expansion of the kingdom of Christ and the destruction of our enemy. It gets a little crazy.

Scripture offers a great example of a man whose celebration of the Lord looked a little mad. As the ark of the covenant was brought to Jerusalem, David “danced before the Lord with all his might” (2 Sam. 6:14). When he was confronted by his wife about his embarrassing behavior, his response was, “I will celebrate before the Lord. I will become even more undignified than this” (2 Sam. 6:21-22).

“Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised, and his greatness is unsearchable” (Ps. 145:3). Our God is awesome and worthy of praise. Let’s go a little crazy in our worship.

GOSPEL-CENTERED MADNESS

Imagine a world where every follower of Christ displayed signs of madness for our King. What if we, like Paul, could describe ourselves as, “fools for Christ’s sake” (1 Cor. 4:10)?

If you think a sixteen-seed beating a one-seed team is wild, imagine telling your friends and extended family that you’re moving to Bangladesh to plant a church.

Imagine a small group inviting local refugees into their weekly gatherings to help them transition into our culture and expose them to kingdom-culture. Imagine a people whose free time wasn’t spent on Netflix but in prayer.

Imagine teenagers more concerned with their friends knowing the Lord than knowing the latest app. Imagine college graduates taking their skills to the 10/40 window to live as missionaries. Imagine older saints who understood that retirement doesn’t apply to kingdom work. 

Imagine local churches concerned with building God’s kingdom and not their own buildings. Imagine small groups that heard words of confession and petition instead of gossip.

Imagine families that invite new neighbors over to share more than just lasagna—to share the life-giving bread of the gospel. Imagine parents that train their children to be faithful witnesses, not just committed soccer players.

Imagine being the people who forego the feast of our day to fast for the nations to know the gospel.

ARE YOU MAD FOR THE LORD?

The world watches us get excited over many things—sports, politics, food, entertainment. How often do they see us get excited about the kingdom of God?

When was the last time you were foolish for Christ? How long has it been since you engaged in disciple-making? Let’s not fool ourselves. Disciples make disciples. God is glorified when we are foolish for his sake, not when we are just fools.

I’ll probably get caught up in the excitement of upsets and buzzer-beating three-pointers as my guys enjoy watching basketball over the next few days. But my prayer is that my life will display madness for the gospel, zeal for the church, and foolishness for the name of Christ.

Our zeal for the kingdom should be evident to all. We don’t need to hide our excitement; we need to embrace it, flaunt it. March proves we have a capacity for craziness. Let’s redirect that capacity and apply it to advancing the kingdom of God. 

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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. She and her husband are covenant members at Imago Dei Church in Raleigh, NC. She loves reading, discipleship, Cajun food, spending time in Africa, hospitality, and LSU football. She writes for several blogs, including her own, www.beneedywell.com.

The Last Days of King Jesus: A Guide for Holy Week

Between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday, the drama of redemption comes to a climax. Jesus, the supposed King of the Jews, is arrested, unjustly convicted, tortured, mocked, and brutally murdered. As we read through Jesus' last days, we see that he endured these things for us. He was accused for us. He was abandoned for us. He was condemned for us. He was betrayed for us.  For centuries, Christians have meditated through Holy Week on the suffering and passion of Jesus, generating a sense of wonder at both the person who suffered and the meaning of his suffering.

Purchase a copy of A Guide for Holy Week: The Last Days of King Jesus, and join us this Holy Week as we reflect on Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. This collection of essays, Scripture meditations, and songs will serve you during Holy Week as you seek to grow as a disciple of Jesus.

A Guide for Holy Week: The Last Days of King Jesus is available in paperback and Kindle editions.

GIVEAWAY

To celebrate Easter, we're giving away five copies of Raised?: Finding Jesus by Doubting the Resurrection by Jonathan K. Dodson and Brad Watson.

About Raised?:

Did Jesus really beat death? That’s what Christians for hundreds of years have believed, that Jesus Christ returned to life after death and burial in a stone tomb. To the modern mind, “resurrection” is utterly implausible, but it was also doubtful to many first-century Greeks, Jews, and even some Christians. With such an incredible assertion at the heart of the Christian faith, it’s no wonder that some people struggle to believe.

The giveaway will take place from March 22, 2018 at 10:00 p.m. to March 25 at 11:59 p.m. EDT.

Raised? Book Giveaway

How Do Christians Get Better?

“I’m not getting any better,” he muttered from across the room. We gave an understanding nod. “I’m trying—I really am—but sin keeps tripping me. I don’t know what else to do.”

Our high theology did nothing to calm his despair.

But our pastor was unburdened by the moment. He looked the man in the eye and said, “The primary aim of the Christian life is not to avoid sin but to follow Jesus.”

I didn’t expect this response. Then again, the gospel is always surprising.

THE DANGER OF SIN

Sin is everywhere. But sin is not only a danger outside, it’s a danger inside as well. Sin is a part of us, living in our hearts since birth. Sin is the disease we can’t cure, the ailment we can’t ease, the problem we can’t solve. Words of despair are the only rational response to sin in all its ugliness. We need someone who can fight for us.

In Numbers 21, the Israelites grew impatient with God as he led them to the Promised Land. They tired of the food and water God provided—the miraculous bread from heaven became a bore; the fish of Egypt tasted better. They spoke against God, blaming him for their plight as he led them into plenty.

God’s punishment was swift and strong: “The Lord sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many people of Israel died” (Num. 21:6). Throughout the Bible, the serpent symbolizes Satan and his schemes. The venom was a painful reminder of their rebellion against God.

What were the Israelites to do?

THE PROBLEM WITH MOST ADVICE

What advice would you give those with venom in their veins? Some would say they only need to go to the doctor. Stand up and walk toward the healer. But how can a paralyzed person walk? Others may say they need to have enough faith to believe God will heal. But how can one who’s unbelief got them here make such a quick turnaround?

Most advice doesn’t account for our complete inability to fix ourselves. Fearing sin only takes us so far; it does nothing to keep us from sin altogether.

Too often, the despairing man or woman across the room receives a head-nod and a handful of suggestions. They’re told to cut the cord, smash their idols, maybe get outside more. Some say they’re too hard on themselves. After all, they can’t be as bad as other people. But none of this helps. In fact, it may grow our fears. How can we be sure we’re doing enough?

The bad news is our effort doesn’t overcome our sin. The good news is our effort doesn’t overcome our sin. Left to ourselves, we would fail. But left in Jesus’ hands, we receive his success.

Sin is overcome by Jesus’ grace applied to our hearts by the Holy Spirit. We don’t need a list of suggestions any more than the dying Israelites needed to stand up and get moving. We need a rescue. We need a savior. Effort may give us a chance, but the gospel gives us far more—the gospel gives us Jesus.

LOOK TO JESUS!

As the snake-bitten Israelites lay dying in the desert, God commanded Moses to construct a bronze serpent and lift it up on a pole. It’s an odd prescription, but God’s ways are not our ways. His response to sin is to present a savior to behold, not a list of rules to follow. It’s the looking and believing that makes the difference.

In 2 Corinthians 5:21, Paul says “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” The Israelites in the desert looked at a statue of the thing killing them. At the cross, we too behold the image of the thing killing us—ourselves. Jesus became human. And on the cross, Jesus became sin. All the ugliness of our sin was there, clinging to the skin of Jesus, seeping into his body, infiltrating his perfect heart. The sin that paralyzed us paralyzed Jesus.

With his last breath, he proclaimed, “It is finished.” Death flooded in. Salvation was at hand. A centurion saw and said, "Truly this man was the Son of God!" (Mark 15:39).

Those who beheld his crucified body went home despairing. How would they ever get better now, after the one they thought would save them had died? Then something remarkable happened. Three days later a stone rolled away, and Jesus walked out of the grave. The serpent’s bite was overcome!

THE GIFT OF SIGHT

Before Jesus died or rose, he had a conversation with a Pharisee seeking God named Nicodemus. He wanted to know the way to life. Jesus told him he must be born again. But that made no sense to Nicodemus. How can one be born when he is old?

There was a way, Jesus said, but only through himself: “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (John 3:14-15).

What snake-bitten sinners need is to look to the One who can save them.

How were the paralyzed Israelites saved in the desert so many years ago? It was not through their effort. It was not because of their good deeds. It was not even their amount of faith. It was beholding the serpent lifted up.

What you get depends on what you set your eyes on. Jesus was raised on the cross so our eyes would raise to him. He was raised from the grave so our eyes would continue to look to our living Savior.

Sin is scary. It should be. But Jesus has conquered it on our behalf. As Al Mohler has said, “Christianity isn’t about how Christian you feel, but how faithful Christ is.” With Jesus, what you see is what you get—a complete Savior for your complete need.

A friend of mine lost part of her eyesight last year due to an optic nerve injury. She has no hope of a complete recovery. But in her blindness, she sees the sharpness of Jesus. She recently told me, “I can’t see very well, and it’s not going to get better in this life. But, you know, I don’t think that when I stand before Jesus he will be blurry.”

If your life is blurred by sin and you’re not sure what to do, look to the One who’s making all things new, including you. The way to get better in the Christian life is by looking to Jesus rather than fearing sin.

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David McLemore is the Director of Teaching Ministries at Refuge Church in Franklin, Tennessee. He also works for a large healthcare corporation where he manages an application development department. He is married to Sarah, and they have three sons.

Say No to Yourself So You Can Say Yes to Jesus

Everyone you know—including your Christian friends—has been seduced by the siren song: “Be true to yourself.” David Kinnaman has said that seventy-six percent of practicing Christians in the U.S. now think the best version of themselves can be found by looking inside.

Studies show that each generation in America is more anxious and depressed than the last. Suicide rates are skyrocketing even though we have more doctors and treatments available than ever. We’re looking inside for meaning, but finding emptiness instead.

As believers, time spent searching our hearts for truth and meaning numbs us to what it means to live like Jesus, who says we can’t follow him unless we deny ourselves.

But what does that mean?

WHAT “DENY YOURSELF” MEANS

The concept of denying yourself comes directly from Jesus, most notably in his call to discipleship in Luke 9:23: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”

If you’re like me, that statement leaves you with lots of questions, like, “What should I be denying myself?” or, “Am I denying myself enough?”

Darrell Johnson, a professor of pastoral theology, explains:

“To deny yourself means to deny your self-lordship. It means saying no to the god who is me, to reject the demands of the god who is me, to refuse to obey the claims of the god who is me. [It means we say] a decisive no—‘I do not know the lord Me—I do not bow down to him anymore.’ ”

Understood this way, it’s not hard to see how important self-denial is in following Christ. In fact, self-denial is the essence of discipleship to Jesus. It’s crucial if we’re going to follow the Master who came to lay his life down for others.

Denying self is essential because it allows us to conquer our own will in favor of the Father’s. “[Jesus] wants to lead and he asks me to follow,” Bill Hull writes. “That drives a stake through the heart of my will, my ego, and my desire to control.”

What are we to deny ourselves of that is so painstaking?

WHAT WE ARE TO DENY

“When we follow Jesus, we deny ourselves the right to justice in human relationships. We deny ourselves the right to a good reputation and immediate vindication,” Hull writes in The Complete Book of Discipleship.

After all, that’s what Jesus did. Though he was God in the flesh, he emptied himself of his rights as God (see Phil. 2:1-11) and gave himself over to the judgment and opinions of others without guarding his reputation.

The heart of self-denial is giving up your need to control every thought or opinion others have of you. Which means you have to die to your metrics of success, along with the world’s—and, yes, even the church’s. You must not allow success to be defined by anything other than obedience to Christ’s commands.

Self-denial is about more than giving up control of your idea of success. Ultimately, it involves giving up control of your future. This is where most start to chafe under the yoke of Christ, like Hull, who says, “My natural bent is to follow my vision, my dreams, my heart—and then periodically check behind me to make sure Jesus is blessing what I’ve chosen.”

Often, we say we’re following Jesus, but what we really want is Jesus following us. If we are to follow Jesus, we must deny—say no to—ourselves. That has always been difficult, but the realities of the modern world make it as complicated as ever.

SELF-DENIAL IN AN AGE OF SELF-FULFILLMENT

Christians in America and other Western countries live in the tension between pursuing a life of self-fulfillment or self-denial. I sense this tension daily. I know Jesus calls me to deny myself, take up my cross and follow him. But sometimes, deep down, I don’t believe he would really ask me to do that.

This is one of the main problems with self-fulfillment. It seeks the happiness of the self over and above all other facets of life so that I can’t imagine someone asking me to do anything contrary to that path.

I think: If realizing my true self in my heart is the path to happiness, then surely Jesus wouldn’t ask me to do something that goes against my heart, right? But Jesus says anyone who wants to follow him must deny himself. . . .

But just when I get close to the truth, the world lures me away. I think about reading the Bible, but I want to keep scrolling and swiping on my iPhone. I think about serving the poor, but it’s much easier to text a donation. I wonder who I should share the gospel with, but I’m more comfortable watching Netflix.

I hope your life is different, but odds are you’re a lot like me. That’s because we’re programmed to seek fulfillment inside ourselves. Thankfully, we can be reprogrammed.

WHAT SELF-DENIAL LOOKS LIKE

Instead of hoping in our plans and pressing on to achieve our goals, followers of Christ are to put God first. We are to give up our right, our need, to be the ones setting the agenda, and pass that mantle to Christ instead.

Practically, this means we are to pray first and act later. Instead of asking the Father to bless what we've chosen, we are to seek his wisdom and will before strategizing. “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain” (Ps. 127:1). Most of us plan first, pray later. Self-denial reverses the order.

Once we have the order correct, we can think about why we are to deny ourselves. Here we come to Christ’s example once more. When pressed by two of his disciples who wanted seats of honor in his kingdom, Jesus replied, “For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).

In this incredible statement, we see that the purpose of denying ourselves is for the good of others. Jesus was going to lay down his life for the salvation of others, and he calls his followers to do the same. In his short book Discipling, Mark Dever writes:

“Being a disciple of Jesus means orienting our lives toward others, just as Jesus did. It means laboring for the sake of others. … We set our sights on serving others for Christ’s sake, just as Christ came into the world not to be served, but to serve and give his life as a ransom for many.”

DIE TO YOURSELF SO YOU CAN LIVE IN CHRIST

Dying to yourself effectively means saying no to your dreams, desires, and ambitions. That sounds depressing, doesn’t it? Only if you don’t consider how saying no to yourself allows you to say yes to Christ.

As you die to yourself, you make more and more room for Jesus to take up residence in your heart and mind. You remove your selfish ways and replace them with his selfless ones. That’s a difficult, sometimes painful, process. But unless you die, Jesus won’t live in you.

Jesus promises to give his followers abundant and eternal life (see John 10:10), but he makes it clear that following him is costly and difficult.

That’s not the narrative many of us are telling ourselves, though. As Hull writes, “We all admire self-denial in others, but we seem to detest it in ourselves.”

We want the abundance Jesus offers without accepting the cost and making the sacrifices. We want godliness without having to work for it. We want fulfillment without learning to find it in Christ.

We want the resurrection without the crucifixion.

But that’s not how it works.

NO RESURRECTION WITHOUT THE CRUCIFIXION

Darrell Johnson writes that there can be no resurrection without the crucifixion—for Jesus or his disciples. He goes on to say:

“Jesus calls his followers to think of ourselves as already dead, to bury our earthly hopes and dreams, to bury the plans and agendas we made for ourselves. He will either resurrect our dreams or replace them with dreams and plans of his own. … This is a hard but liberating saying. … Freedom comes when we lay down the ill-gotten false crown, when we say no, when we live as though the gods who are us have already died.”

Looking inside ourselves will never satisfy our consuming desire for fulfillment that can only be found in Christ. We must repent of our quest for self-fulfillment and press on to win the prize that can only be won through self-denial.

We can follow our hearts or we can follow Jesus, but we can’t do both.

Grayson Pope is a husband and father of three, as well the Managing Web Editor at GCD. He serves as a writer and editor with Prison Fellowship and has earned a MACS at The Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. For more of his writing check out his website, or follow him on Twitter.

Why Are You Suffering? Here's God's Answer

Job, his wife, and his three friends agreed on two things. Our lives are “few of days and full of trouble” (Job 14:1), and God’s hand is intimately mixed up in our troubles. But strife and perplexity set in among them when they tried to explain exactly how God and troubles connect. They argued about the cause of Job’s troubles; no one understood the backstory of cosmic drama. They argued about what God was up to; no one understood that God had purposes for good beyond human comprehension and he was not punishing Job. They argued about the validity of Job’s professed faith and faithfulness; no one understood that Job was both the genuine article and a work in progress. And they argued about who needed to do what in response to affliction; no one understood that the Lord would show up, that he would be asking the questions, that his purposes would be fulfilled. The Lord himself described Job as “a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil” (Job 1:8). But who could have predicted the tumultuous journey that proved that fact?

WHERE IS GOD IN YOUR SUFFERING?

Thousands of years later, we humankind are still short-lived and still much afflicted. And our troubles still perplex us. Why is this happening to me? Where is God? What is he doing? What does faith look like? How does the Lord show up? Why is the journey so tumultuous?

And what difference does it make that in between Job’s afflictions back then and your afflictions right now, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us? Job said:

I know that my Redeemer lives,


and at the last he will stand upon the earth.

And after my skin has been thus destroyed,

yet in my flesh I shall see God,

whom I shall see for myself,


and my eyes shall behold, and not another.

My heart faints within me! (Job 19:25–27)

Job’s Redeemer came to him at last. The Lord answered out of the whirlwind, and Job said, “Now my eye sees you” (Job 42:5). But we see even more clearly. From where we stand, we see Jesus Christ. We see more of who the Redeemer is. We see more of how he did it. We say more than Job could say: “God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Cor. 4:6). We see. But our lives are still “few of days and full of trouble.”

3 TRUTHS ABOUT SUFFERING

When you face trouble, loss, disability, and pain, how does the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ meet you and comfort you? How does grace and goodness find you, touch you, work with you, and walk with you through deep waters? You probably already know something of the “right answer.” Consider three sweeping truths.

1. God doesn't promise to keep us from suffering

First, it is obvious from both Scripture and experience that God never establishes a no-fly zone keeping all problems away. He never promises that your life will be safe, easy, peaceful, healthy, and prosperous. On the contrary, you and I are certain to experience danger, hardship, turmoil, ill health, and loss. And some of God’s beloved children live lives particularly fraught with physical pain, poverty, isolation, betrayal, and loss. For all of us, death is the inevitable and impending final affliction. We humankind are mariposa lilies in Death Valley after rain. We flourish for a moment. Then the wind passes over us, and we are gone, and no trace remains. That’s the description of God’s blessed and beloved children according to Psalm 103:15–16. And, of course, people who are estranged from God also live brief and troubled lives. We cannot read God’s favor or disfavor by assessing how troubled a person’s life is.

2. God doesn't promise earthly goods

Second, it is obvious from Scripture and experience that we also sample joys and good gifts from God’s hand. The mariposa lily is beautiful in its season. Most people taste something of what is good—familial care perhaps, and daily bread, occasional feasting, a measure of good health, friends and companions, moments of beauty, opportunity to become good at something, committed love, children’s laughter, a job well done, the innocent pleasure of resting after working, and perhaps a restful sleep. There are no guarantees of any particular earthly good, but all good gifts may be gratefully enjoyed.

Some people seem unusually blessed with temporal joys. Job enjoyed unusually good gifts at both the beginning and the end of his life—Satan had accused the Lord of giving Job a cushy life as a bribe for faith. And arrogant people, at odds with God and self-reliant, may also enjoy an easy life of good health, growing wealth, and the admiration of others. That’s how Psalm 73:3–12 describes people who flourish though they deem the Lord irrelevant. We cannot read God’s favor or disfavor by assessing how easy and trouble-free a person’s life is.

3. God works through suffering

Third, it’s obvious from Scripture—and it can become deeply rooted in experience—that God speaks and acts through affliction. As C. S. Lewis says, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”[1] Suffering reveals the genuineness of faith in Christ. And suffering produces genuine faith. For example, when you struggle under affliction, the Psalms become real. True faith deepens, brightens, and grows wise. You grow up in knowing God. When you are the genuine article, you are also and always a work in progress.

Suffering is both the acid test and the catalyst. It reveals and forms faith. It also exposes and destroys counterfeit faith. Afflictions expose illusory hopes invested in imaginary gods. Such disillusionment is a good thing, a severe mercy. The destruction of what is false invites repentance and faith in God as he truly is. Suffering brings a foretaste of the loss of every good thing for those who profess no faith in the one Savior of the world, God’s inexpressible gift, the Lifegiver. Affliction presses on unbelief. It presses unbelief toward bitterness, or despair, or addiction, or ever more desperate illusions, or ever more deadly self-satisfaction—or to a reconsideration of what lasts. To lose what you are living for, when those treasures are vanities, invites comprehensive repentance. We can read God’s favor or disfavor by noticing how a person responds to affliction.

YOU CAN FIND HOPE IN SUFFERING

God’s hand is intimately mixed up in our troubles. Each day will bring you “its own trouble” (Matt. 6:34). Some difficulties are light and momentary—in your face today and forgotten tomorrow. Other hardships last for a season. Some troubles recur and abate cyclically. Other afflictions become chronic. Some woes steadily worsen, progressively bringing pain and disability into your life. And other sufferings arrive with inescapable finality— the death of a dream, the death of a loved one, your own dying and death. But whatever you must face changes in light of the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the promise that you, too, will live. Faith can grow up. You can learn to say with all your heart, in company with a great cloud of witnesses: “We do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:16–17). We can learn to say it and mean it, because it is true.

If you are someone who has taken the book of Psalms to heart, if you’ve pondered the second half of Romans 8, if you’ve worked your way through Job, if you’ve let 1 Peter sink in, then you’ve already got the gist of how God’s grace works in hardships. But there are always new challenges. The wisdom to suffer well is like manna—you must receive nourishment every day. You can’t store it up, though you do become more familiar with how to go out and find what you need for today.

GOD'S ANSWER IN YOUR SUFFERING

How will God actually engage your sufferings with his grace? You may know the right answer in theory. You may have known it firsthand in some difficult situations. And yet you’ll find that you don’t know God well enough or in the exact ways you need to for the next thing that comes your way.

We take God’s hard answer and make it sound like a pat answer. He sets about a long slow answering, but we’re after a quick fix. His answer insists on being lived out over time and into the particulars. We act as if just saying the right words makes it so. God’s answer involves changing you into a different kind of person. But we act as if some truth, principle, strategy, or perspective might simply be incorporated into who we already are. God personalizes his answer on hearts with an uncanny flexibility. But we turn it into a formula: “If you just believe x. If you just do y. If you just remember z.” No important truth ever contains the word “just” in the punch line.

We can make the right answer sound old hat, but I guarantee this: God will surprise you. He will make you stop. You will struggle. He will bring you up short. You will hurt. He will take his time. You will grow in faith and in love. He will deeply delight you. You will find the process harder than you ever imagined—and better. Goodness and mercy will follow you all the days of your life. At the end of the long road you will come home at last. No matter how many times you’ve heard it, no matter how long you’ve known it, no matter how well you can say it, God’s answer will come to mean something better than you could ever imagine.

He answers with himself.

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[1] C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (1940; repr., San Francisco: Harper-SanFrancisco, 2001), 91.

Content taken from God's Grace in Your Suffering by David Powlison, ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

David Powlison (MDiv, Westminster Theological Seminary) is a teacher, a counselor, and the executive director of the Christian Counseling & Educational Foundation. He is also the senior editor of the Journal of Biblical Counseling and the author of Seeing with New Eyes, Good & Angry, and Speaking Truth in Love.

To God Be the Glory?

There’s a beast within me. It’s hungry, demanding, and jealous. The beast desires applause. It seeks glory, acclaim.

The beast is me.

THE BEAST WITHIN

I want everyone to know how hard I work to organize service projects. I want people to look at my children and think about what a great mother I am. I get angry when someone steals the spotlight.

The beast is insatiable.

And this beast is inside all of us. We’re all glory seekers.

We were made to chase after God’s glory (Isa. 43:7), but sin distorts this God-given desire into a pursuit of our own glory. Our chase changes course. We’re like the dog who runs around in circles chasing his own tail. Our eyes are fixed on ourselves and the vanity of our chase eludes us.

THE GLORY OF GOD ECLIPSES THE BEAST

My heavenly Father frees me from the clutches of the beast. He frees me from fixing my eyes on me, and from the desire for everyone else’s eyes. More than that, he invites me to lock eyes with him—and when I do, I behold his glory.

Beholding his glory changes me (2 Cor. 3:18). His glory is full of grace (John 1:14), and it transforms what I want and what I value.

His glory is full of truth. And the truth is, his glory makes mine much less appealing.

When I behold the beauty of God’s glory, I’m no longer invested in my own greatness; I want the world to see the greatness of my God.

BOASTING IN STRENGTH AND WEAKNESS

In his book Radical, David Platt writes, “God actually delights in exalting our inability. He intentionally puts his people in situations where they come face to face with their need for him.” When we exalt our insufficiency, we boast in the sufficiency of Christ.

So I’m free to be bold in my weakness, knowing that when I’m weak, I’m strong (2 Cor. 12:10). I can do nothing apart from Christ (John 15:5). My insufficiency doesn’t discourage me, it empowers me because his power is perfected in my weakness (2 Cor. 12:9).

My weakness can be a spotlight for who’s extraordinary—almighty God. My shortcomings as a parent showcase God’s glorious grace in my children. My openness about gluttony highlights God’s power to break every chain of bondage when I’m no longer a slave to my appetite.

Seekers of his glory are not motivated by selfish ambition, but holy ambition. We want to make Christ known. In the book, Alive in Him, Gloria Furman says we are, “dying to ourselves in every way for the sake of making Christ’s name famous in all the cosmos.” We don’t want people to look at our social media posts to notice our greatness. No, we want to use our social networks to, “proclaim the excellencies of him who called us out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Pet. 2:9).

Our boast is in the Lord, not in ourselves (1 Cor. 1:31). We want to show the world our neediness for God because our neediness brings him glory. We are, as Martin Luther said on his deathbed, “mere beggars showing other beggars where to find bread.”

CELEBRATING OTHERS’ SUCCESS

The beast in me doesn’t like sharing the spotlight with anyone. It wants me to outshine everyone else. It’s threatened by the successes of others. But when I seek God’s glory, I celebrate all the ways and means he chooses to reveal it—even if he does it through someone else.

When I’m more concerned with God’s glory than my own, I rejoice when others succeed. They’re not a threat to me and my glory; they are evidence of God’s glory shining through them. We are one body in Christ (Rom. 12:5). We are co-laborers in gospel work. We rejoice with those who rejoice (Rom.12:15). Your successes are my successes, and vice versa.

When I struggle to get a single article published and my Twitter-friend gets a book deal, I thank God. May he bless her with words to encourage his people. When I struggle financially and my friend’s husband gets a promotion, I praise God. May they bless others as they have been blessed. I can rejoice in God’s grace in other moms whose children act angelic in public while mine are perfecting their defiance.

I can celebrate these evidences of his grace in others’ lives because I love God’s glory. I desire to see his grace cover the earth, including Twitter and my friends’ successes. He uses us in different ways to glorify himself. We should champion—not compete against—one another. God gives us the grace to cheer one another on in the faith: “Oh, magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together” (Ps. 34:3).

LIVING TRANSFORMED

The world tempts us to build a platform; God invites us to build his kingdom. When we’re building his kingdom, ours loses its attractiveness. His glory becomes my pursuit.

When I’m more concerned about God’s glory than my own, I live out of the transformational grace given to those who behold his glory (2 Cor. 3:18). His desires become what I want. His thoughts become my thoughts. My words start to sound like his—edifying and life-giving. I don’t live for temporal, but eternal, pleasures.

God alone has the power to transform me from a seeker of self-glory to a seeker of his glory. The world tells me to take care of me and mine, but God is glorified when we look to the interests of others (Phil.2:4). The world says we should keep to our own kind, but we bring our Father glory when we embrace people from every tribe, tongue, and nation that will make up our eternal family (Rev. 7:9).

STOP LOOKING AT ME

A.W. Tozer said, “The glory of God always comes at the sacrifice of self.” If everyone is looking at me, they’re not looking at Christ. When I seek my glory, I’m working in opposition to the gospel. When I care more about God’s glory than my own, it’s my joy to sacrifice my desires for his greatness.

Father, give me the desire and the means to make your name famous, and not my own. Be big in my smallness; strong in my weakness. Unite your people to display your glory together to the ends of the earth.

Slay the glory-seeking beast within each of us—and start with me.

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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. She and her husband are covenant members at Imago Dei Church in Raleigh, NC. She loves reading, discipleship, Cajun food, spending time in Africa, hospitality, and LSU football. She writes for several blogs, including her own, www.beneedywell.com.

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.

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^[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.

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.

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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.

Adapted from Scars Across Humanity by Elaine Storkey. Copyright (c) 2018 by Elaine Storkey. Published by InterVarsity Press, Downers Grove, IL. www.ivpress.com

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.

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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.

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.

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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.