Most of Life Is Not Lived at a Subspiritual Level: A Quote from Eugene Peterson

Yesterday morning, after a long obedience in the same direction, Eugene Peterson went home to be with our Lord. He was 85.

Peterson is best known, perhaps, for his paraphrase of the Bible called The Message. I often turn to The Message when I am preparing sermons to see what insights come alive in his fresh retelling. Peterson authored many books, some written to help the wider Christian audience and others to help his fellow pastors.

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Russell Moore, wrote a kind piece yesterday about the way Peterson only preached one sermon, despite his many sermons and many books. “[Peterson] had many things to say to us, and he said them in a wide spectrum of ways,” Moore writes. “But, really, he was just pointing our imaginations away from ourselves and toward awe and wonder—in the Bible, in the universe, in the local congregation, but all of it really pointed to awe in the presence of the One who holds it all together, a Jesus who loves us and is, in ways we can’t adequately piece together now, calling us homeward.” Well said.

Below is an extended excerpt from Peterson’s book The Contemplative Pastor. In it, Peterson reminds us that the small things should matter to pastors because it’s in the small things that most of our lives are lived unto God.

My pastor, during my adolescent years, came often to our home. After a brief an awkward interval, he always said, “And how are things in your SOUL today?” (He always pronounced “soul” in capital letters.)

I never said much. I was too intimidated. The thoughts and experiences that filled my life in those years seems small potatoes after that question. I knew, of course, that if I ever wanted to discuss matters of SOUL, I could go to him. But for everything else, I would probably do better with someone who wouldn’t brush aside as worldly vanity what it felt like to get cut from the basketball varsity, someone who wouldn’t pronounce with scary intimations of hellfire on the thoughts I was having about Marnie Schmidt, the new girl from California.

Pastoral work, I learned later, is that aspect of Christian ministry that specializes in the ordinary. It is the nature of pastoral life to be attentive to, immersed in, and appreciative of the everyday texture of people’s lives—the buying and selling, the visiting and meeting, the going and coming. There are also crisis events to be met: birth and death, conversion and commitment, baptism and Eucharist, despair and celebration. These also occur in people’s lives and, therefore, in pastoral work. But not as everyday items.

Most people, most of the time, are not in crisis. If pastoral work is to represent the gospel and develop a life of faith in the actual circumstances of life, it must learn to be at home in what novelist William Golding has termed the “ordinary universe”—the everyday things in people’s lives—getting kids off to school, deciding what to have for dinner, dealing with the daily droning complaints of work associates, watching the nightly news on TV, making small talk at coffee break.

Small talk: the way we talk when we not are talking about anything in particular, and we don’t have to think logically, or decide sensibly, or understand accurately. The reassuring conversational noises that make no demands, inflict no stress. The sounds that take the pressure off. The meandering talk to simply express what is going on at the time. My old pastor‘s refusal (or inability) to engage in that kind of talk implied, in effect, that most of my life has been lived at a subspiritual level. Vast tracts of my experience were “worldly,” with occasional moments qualifying as “spiritual.” I never question the practice until I became a pastor myself and found that such an approach left me uninvolved with most of what was happening in people’s lives and without a conversational context for the actual undramatic work of living by faith in the fog and the drizzle. (Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor, 112–13)

* Photo Bono & Eugene Peterson | THE PSALMS

How (Not) to Be a Miserable Comforter

A few times a year, I post one of my recent sermons. Our church is preaching through the book of Job, and below is the audio and manuscript from my sermon last Sunday. In the sermon I explore things we must avoid if we are going to be helpful to those around us who are hurting. I also tell the story of when our family went through some significant suffering.  

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This morning we are continuing our sermon series through the book of Job. This is the fourth week of ten. Thus far in this series, we haven’t missed reading a single verse. That’s going to change. The book of Job has 42 chapters, and this is the first sermon where we’ll have to do a good bit of summarizing. In Week 1, we met Job, this great man from the land of Uz. In Week 2, the bottom fell out in his life—home and health collapsed as the evil one drew back his bow. In Week 3, Job’s friends arrived, and they sat in silence as Job began to lament. Now, in Week 4, Job’s friends, his comforters, begin to speak with Job, and it doesn’t go well. In fact, in chapter 16, Job says, “miserable comforters are you all” (v. 2). His friends, his comforters, are miserable—in Job’s estimation and God’s. This morning we are going to explore some of the things that made them so miserable. But I don’t merely want to stay in the land of Uz. I believe that to study this book rightly, we’ll need to also think about how we can avoid their mistakes.

I’ll read portions of the book of Job in the sermon, but I want to begin by reading just one verse from the book of Proverbs. The verse teaches that truth is sharp; it has a point to it, which means that using truth requires wisdom, and if you don’t have wisdom, you’ll hurt yourself and others. Proverbs 26:9 says,

Like a thorn that goes up into the hand of a drunkard
    is a proverb in the mouth of fools.

Prayer…

Introduction

I mentioned at the start that we would not be reading every verse. To understand why, you need to understand something of the structure of the book of Job. The book of Job begins with the account of Job losing nearly everything, and the book ends with a short account of everything—and then some—being restored.

In the middle of the book, people talk to each other—a lot! Here’s the order: Job talks, then Friend 1 talks (Eliphaz). Then Job talks and Friend 2 talks (Bildad). Then Job talks and then Friend 3 talks (Zophar). From chapters 3 to 31, this cycle of Job-Friend/Job-Friend/Job-Friend happens three times . . . well, almost three times. The last cycle is broken short. Then in chapter 32 a young guy comes onto the scene and he talks. His name is Elihu. And when Elihu is finished talking, God talks. Or rather, God asks question after question after question. That’s a lot of talking.

We’ll have a few sermons that come from passages in the middle portion of the book, the talking parts. My job this morning is to represent Job’s friends and explore what made them miserable comforters.

But before I get into them, I’ll say this. When I preached two weeks ago, I covered nearly all of chapter 1 and 2, which were very full chapters. I even preached an extra 10 minutes longer than usual, and I still felt like all I was able to do was observe what was going on in the passage, let alone do much by way of illustration and application. At the end of the sermon, I mentioned how I hoped to have time for more of this later. And we do. So I’ll be begin with a story.

Several years ago, I got a short phone call from my wife. This was before we lived here in Harrisburg. We lived in Tucson, AZ at the time. On the call, Brooke really only asked one question. After our greeting, she asked if I saw that our house was listed online? I said that I hadn’t. I hung up the phone after the call, walked outside and confirmed a few details, and then made a phone call to the realtor.

It’s sort of a cliché when we talk about being so unsettled that you feel like you are going to be sick, to throw up, but that’s how I felt. We had been trying to sell our home for two years—a home we didn’t even live in anymore. When a contract on the home looked like it was going to materialize, we moved to Tucson, so I could work in a church. But then the contract didn’t materialize. And I asked a friend to live in my house for only $200 a month if he’d just mow the yard, which was 1/7 of the cost to own the house. And 18 months later, he was still living there. Our savings were almost gone, and one afternoon I remember going to CarMax to see how much I could get for my Ford Escape, which I found out would only get me another month or two, and we’d be in the same situation.

So we made this whole plan to take our house of the market and put it back on again. If we did it right, the timing would make it so that the previous time on the market would start over at zero. (At least those were the rules at the time.) But through an administrative error, the new realtor one day got back to the office and just listed it online some 15 days too early to restart the “clock”—and listed with no pictures. That’s why I felt sick.

Oh, and I should add a few months before I got that phone call, my wife had a miscarriage, which lead to some other on-going complications. And I should add that our landlord in Tucson just doubled our rent. And I should add that my job wasn’t as stable as it seemed when I first moved to this new city. My world felt unstable, like everything I was standing on was moving under my feet.

Think about an A-frame ladder. A-frame ladders are, relatively speaking, stable. They have a low center of gravity and a wide base. It’s stable. You can biff an A-frame ladder, and it returns to normal, if it even moves at all. When we went through that season, it was like I had been flipped upside down. Rather than a wide base and low center of gravity, all that was flipped. Everything was unstable. And if someone only whispered to me that all my calamities were because of my sin and lack of faith, I might have toppled over. This is how Job is when his friends arrive. He’s been honoring God, but yet his life has become unstable. If someone only hints that this is his fault, he might topple over.

And remember what Jason said last week. These are not just any friends. These friends are subtly flagged by the author of the book as wise men of the world—they are from countries noted for their wisdom. It’s like having grief counselors from Harvard, Princeton, and Yale, Jason said. And the wisdom the world has to offer Job is miserable.

Now, let’s spend the rest of our time getting into passages and talking about what made them so miserable.

1. Miserable Comforters Confuse Proverbs and Promises

The first thing that makes a miserable comforter is confusing a proverb and a promise. Both proverbs and promises are wonderful things. The Bible has many, many of each. But they are different things and things that should not be confused. Let me read a portion of chapter 18 to show you what I mean. This is Bildad speaking for the second time.

18 Then Bildad the Shuhite answered and said...
5 “Indeed, the light of the wicked is put out,
    and the flame of [the wicked person’s] fire does not shine.
6 The light is dark in [the wicked person’s] tent,
    and [the wicked person’s] lamp above him is put out.
7 [The wicked person’s] strong steps are shortened,
    and his own schemes throw him down.
8 For he is cast into a net by his own feet,
    and he walks on its mesh.
9 A trap seizes him by the heel;
    a snare lays hold of him...

19 [The wicked person] has no posterity or progeny among his people,
    and no survivor where he used to live.
20 They of the west are appalled at his day,
    and horror seizes them of the east.
21 Surely such are the dwellings of the unrighteous,
    such is the place of him who knows not God.”

How would you summarize these words? I might summarize them this way: Cheaters never win. They always get what they deserve. What Bildad says here is true as a proverb. A proverb, biblical speaking, is a statement about how God has generally set up the world. They are short statements that are designed to be memorable (e.g., cheaters never win). And because they are designed to be memorable, they do not have qualifications and disclaimers. If you clutter a proverb up with all sorts of qualifications, then the punchiness and memorableness are lost. (e.g., “many hands make light work,” but if you have a small room and too many people, well then, the work gets harder.) Part of handling proverbs rightly is having the wisdom to know their limits.

Yes, as Bildad says, most of the time when wicked people use wicked means to get ahead in life, they are crushed in their own devices. But if we could speak with Bildad, we’d want to ask him, “Bildad, is that true all of the time? Do you mean to tell me that this general truth that you have observed about the world is always true? Do you mean to tell me that a wicked person has never gone free, never gotten away with what they’ve done? No, Bildad, of course they do; sometimes the wicked prosper and the righteous suffer.”

I’m just picking one example from the many that could be mentioned in Job. You can hardly read any one of the friends’ speeches and not see aspects of their confusion about proverbs and promises.

Let me say it another way. What makes a miserable comforter is to believe that sin and suffering are in a relationship and that relationship is a one-to-one relationship. You’ll be a miserable comforter if you believe that if a person does something wrong, God will crush them—always. And to be a miserable comforter is to believe prosperity and righteousness are in a one-to-one relationship. If you do something right, God will reward you—always.

Let me make it more personal. Let me read Proverbs 22:6 and ask a question.

Train up a child in the way he should go;
    even when he is old he will not depart from it.

Is that a promise or a proverb? Is God saying wisdom seeks to raise children up in the fear and admonition of the Lord, and—generally speaking—when patterns of godliness are ingrained from an early age and the goodness and grace of God are tasted at an early age—generally speaking—those children who see an authentic relationship with God modeled before them—generally speaking—will not depart from such a beautiful way of life when they are older?

Or, is this verse saying that if you do everything right as a parent, then your children will always become good, Christians, and if you don’t do what is right, then your children will always end up hating God? Which is it?

“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it” is a proverb, not a promise. It’s a general truth about how God has set up the world, namely, as a cause-and-effect world. Good causes—generally speaking—produce good effects. But that proverb starts to fall apart when it’s treated as a promise. And when this verse is treated as a promise, much confusion and much misery are bound to follow. When Job’s friends get proverbs and promises mixed up, it certainly causes Job all kinds of misery. Let’s go to the next point to see what this view leads them to do.

2. Miserable Comforters Speak Beyond What They Know

The next thing that makes a miserable comfortable miserable is when they speak beyond what they can know. Job’s friends are so committed to their one-to-one view of the world (sin leads to suffering and righteousness to prosperity), that even though they don’t know why Job’s suffering, they believe they can make up the reason he is suffering with absolute certainty.

Let me show you two examples, one from chapter 8 and the other from 22. The first also comes from Bildad. This is from his opening speech. Look at Job 8:1–4,

8 Then Bildad the Shuhite answered and said:
2 “How long will you say these things,
    and the words of your mouth be a great wind?
3 Does God pervert justice?
    Or does the Almighty pervert the right?
4 If your children have sinned against him,
    he has delivered them into the hand of their transgression. (Job 8:1–4)

In v. 2 he says, “Your words are nothing more than hot air, Job.” And look at v. 4. He says, “Job, the reason your children are dead, is because they are sinners.” A miserable comforter today might say, “The reason your kidneys failed, the reason you have cancer, the reason your house didn’t sell, the reason your child died of SIDS . . . is because you’re a sinner—not a general sinner, as we all are, but a sinner in particular ways that lead you to deserve the particular punishment you got.”

Do you see why they are miserable? Bildad doesn’t know what he’s talking about. This wisdom of the world wasn’t in the secret council room of God when things were discussed, but still, it claims to know why things happened the way they did.

Now look at Job 22:1, 5–10, and 21. This is from the final cycle of conversations. Eliphaz speaks in this way,  

22 Then Eliphaz the Temanite answered and said:
5 Is not your evil abundant?
    There is no end to your iniquities.
6 For you have exacted pledges of your brothers for nothing
    and stripped the naked of their clothing.
7 You have given no water to the weary to drink,
    and you have withheld bread from the hungry.
8 The man with power possessed the land,
    and the favored man lived in it.
9 You have sent widows away empty,
    and the arms of the fatherless were crushed.
10 Therefore snares are all around you,
    and sudden terror overwhelms you...
21 “Agree with God, and be at peace;
    thereby good will come to you.

Every word of this is a lie. In Eliphaz’s first speech in chapter 4, he conceded that Job was likely a righteous man (vv. 3–6). But then all the friends start dancing around the massive elephant that they believe is in the room: Job is a wicked sinner, and if only he would come to his senses and repent, God would restore him. The whole time they are wondering who will be the one to say this outright to Job. Eliphaz is the one.  

Did you notice that line in v.  9 about widows? Eliphaz say that in Job’s prior life, he “sent widows away empty.” I take this to mean that Job got his wealth by being a wicked miser.

One of the reasons I spent so much time in just reading and observing chapters 1 and 2 a few weeks ago, is for this moment right now. The narrator called Job a blameless man. God called Job a blameless man, and though he hated it, it seems Satan had to acknowledge it too. But here, these miserable comforters reinterpret the backstory of Job’s life. They speak beyond what they can know. This is one reason why Job is so exasperated. In a long, final appeal to his friends, Job says in chapter 29 that in his former life he “caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy” (v. 13). This is quite the contrast from what his friends tell him, but one I’m inclined to agree with because of what God had said about him.

To go back to my ladder metaphor, Job has been turned upside down; his center of gravity has moved up; his base has shrunk. He’s wobbly. He’s unstable. And the wisdom of the world comes along and says, “This is your fault.”

3. Miserable Comforters Speak Wrongly about God

Let me briefly mention the final thing that makes them miserable. It’s the thing that God mentions at the very end of the book. Look at 42:7,

7 After the Lord had spoken these words to Job, the Lord said to Eliphaz the Temanite: “My anger burns against you and against your two friends, for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.

God looks through all the aspects of Job’s friends’ words that make them miserable, some of which I pointed out and others I didn’t have time for, and God says, the main issue is that they are not speaking rightly about him. Don’t miss this. What you believe about God is eminently practical for every aspect of your life, including when you’re comforting others.

Applications

So many applications could be made. You want to be a wise friend, a wise counselor? Soak in good theology. This is one reason why we give huge portions of our service to thinking soberly about the book God wrote, and why we should spend our lives, not just on Sundays, soaking in it. When we do this, we can come to people who are suffering, and we’ll be able to do everything we can to deepen their trust in God, to lower their center of gravity and widen their base, so to speak.

And when we don’t know something, we should just say we don’t know it. We need to look people the eyes as they cry, and as we cry with them, and say, “I don’t know why this strange providence of God has come upon you. And I don’t know if we’ll ever know in this life. But let me help you hold on to God even as he’s going to hold on to you.”

And Jason mentioned many other, very practical things we need to do last week regarding the effort to help those suffering. When people are suffering, we write cards, make meals, mow the yard, rake leaves, clean bathrooms. We show up; we talk for a bit; then we leave. And with our words we point people to the goodness of God, even though it seems like the storm makes him and his goodness difficult to see.

Conclusion

Speaking of the goodness of God, I want to close by talking about that. There is a saying that goes around these days that says, That escalated quickly. We usually say it when we observe that someone took something out of proportion. So, someone stubs their toe, and they start calling down curses from heaven on the nightstand. “Woe to you, nightstand. Curse the tree that gave birth to you.” And we say, “That escalated quickly.”

When God says, that Job’s friends had spoken about him wrongly, God did not escalate quickly, and when he did, he did not overstep proportion. “The Lord is slow to anger” (Exodus 34:6). God listened to their hot air for chapter, after chapter, after chapter, until finally, he says, “Enough.” Because of God’s love for Job, because of God’s love for Job’s friends, and because of God’s love for his own reputation and glory, God says, “Enough.”

Sometimes when Christians talk about the book of Job, we can focus so much on the suffering and sin and Satan and how God fits in all those things, that we miss that God has given this book to make us wise. The book of Job is part of what are called the wisdom books in the Bible. They are those books that are especially given by God to his people to make them wise.

Think about that. Not only does God love you so much that he would send Jesus the savior to the earth and live perfectly and then die in your place for your sins, and then rise again on the third day, defeating sin and death, and then sit in heaven where he rules and reigns and awaits to come again for you—but not only has he done all of that, but he loves you so much that in the meantime while Christians wait for his glorious return, he has given us instructions to make us wise. We can get so focused on chapters 1 and 2 of Job and forget that God has given us a great gift in this book, a book showing us how to relate to people who are suffering, and in many ways, how not to relate to them, how not to be a miserable comforter. That may feel like a small thing. But I know story after story of people who were suffering and some well-meaning Christian comes to him or her and says, in essence, “This is your fault, and if you’d just have enough faith, your circumstances would change.” God loves us so much that his salvation includes his desire to make us wise. Be careful with your words, Christian.

There was an article on a popular Christian website a few years ago called, “What Grieving People Wish You Knew at Christmas” by Nancy Guthrie (Desiring God, December 21, 2016). It’s a short article. It came out just four days before Christmas in 2016. It’s just my guess, but it would seem that the average number of “shares” for articles on that website are maybe 1–3k shares. A good article might get 10k shares and a great one might get 30k or even 50k shares. The article, “What Grieving People Wish You Knew at Christmas,” an article that gave Christians wisdom for how to speak to people who are suffering, was shared over 1.3 million times, many of those in the first few days. It’s the most-shared article of all time on Desiring God’s website. We are hungry for wisdom, especially when people are grieving.

I talked about not confusing proverbs and promises. Let me close with a promise from Jesus. This is Jesus speaking to his disciples. He tells them,

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world. (John 16:33)

Now that’s a promise. No matter what happens in this life—whether it’s your fault or not—if you are trusting in Christ, he will hold you. Take that to heart, Christian.

* Photo Nik Shuliahin on Unsplash

BLESSED ARE THE MISFITS by Brant Hansen (FAN AND FLAME Book Reviews)

When author and radio host Brant Hansen does a thirty-second radio commercial, I enjoy it.

When Hansen does a three-minute monologue between songs on a Christian radio station, I enjoy it.

When our mutual friend invited both of us on a road trip last summer to Philadelphia to watch the final Lord of the Rings movie, which was accompanied by a live orchestra, I really enjoyed it.

And when he writes a book, I enjoy that too.

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In fact, because I enjoyed his last book Unoffendable so much (reviewed here), when I learned he was writing a new one, I asked if I could be on the book’s launch team. That new book is called Blessed are the Misfits, with the long and misfit-like subtitle of Great News for Believers who are Introverts, Spiritual Strugglers, or Just Feel Like They're Missing Something.

The book, he would say, is born out of personal struggles. You wouldn’t necessarily know this from listening to a couple of radio clips, but Hansen has Asperger’s, and on top of that he also has nystagmus, which causes his eyes to shake and his head to move involuntarily. All this invariably leads him into both amusing and very frustrating experiences. Some of these he shares in his book. Perhaps you have parts of your life that are awkward and difficult to share. Everyone does.

But, I must confess, I’ve been a misfit member of his book-launch team. His book released in the fall, and this is the first time I’ve written about it! Because the central theme of the book is that the love of Jesus is not for those who see themselves as upwardly mobile—an unfortunate, but common misconception—but rather that the love of Jesus is for those who recognize their great need, perhaps Brant will overlook my misfit-launch-team participation.

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I did loan the book to a friend, which is some promotion. My friend enjoyed the book very much. However, I now realize in loaning the book, it probably didn’t help the book sales. Again, sorry, Brant.

I could share several funny sections from the book, but I’d rather share one of the more serious ones. It’s the story of Brant‘s father, who was a Christian preacher while Brant grew up. But his father was a different person at church than he was at home, which made things very difficult for Brant and the rest of the family. He writes,

People really liked my dad’s preaching and singing. My brother and I were often told what a wonderful man he was.

We were also absolutely petrified of him.

Honestly, I still don’t know what happened to him, or when. There are a lot of things I don’t want to remember. I recall bits and pieces, like being four years old, in a fast-moving car late at night, while my mom drove my preacher dad to the hospital. He was in the back seat, breathing into a paper bag.

I remember late-night yelling matches. I remember my mom yelling, “Who is she? Tell me who she is!” over and over.

I remember visiting Dad over the years, through grade school and middle school, in psychiatric wards and mental institutions. When you visit your dad in these places, it makes an impression on you. When you see him preaching days later, you remember that too.

I remember our bathroom floors. Very well. I’d sit there, sometimes for hours. I’d make up stories to distract myself from the arguing. Sometimes I would bring my favorite puppet, a little furry green monster, with me (I was big on puppets), and I’d sit and act out little sketches.

That was the coping plan. Go somewhere and lock the door and sit on the floor and rock back and forth and make up a puppet story or just try not to exist. . .

I remember my brother heroically intervening in my parents’ room when Dad was beginning to physically attack my mom. . . (pp. 90–91)

This section goes on for another page or two, only getting more difficult to read. I share this part of the book, and not one of Hansen’s many goofy stories, in the hope that you might check out the book. But more importantly—and I believe Brant would say this himself—I share this section in the hope that you won’t dismiss Christianity as a religion for the put-together, the good-doers, the never-need-help. Instead, I want you to know that the hope of Christianity is for misfits who only have their need to bring to God.

* Photo by Ian Parker on Unsplash.

The Wisdom of the Sixth Day

In Genesis 1 after God created man and woman, we read: “And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day” (v. 31).

Recently I spent a few weeks teaching some young adults at our church about God’s vision for biblical manhood and womanhood, and how, when rightly understood, it’s “very good” for us. Yet before such a daunting topic—and frankly, a controversial one—I often felt not a little intimidated.

A few times during the class I shared a poem I wrote about God’s wisdom in creating us male and female. Poetry is thoughtful, concentrated language to express and evoke emotion, and it was my hope that my poem, frail as it was, would encourage the group to see what God says about manhood and womanhood as something wise and for our flourishing.

The Wisdom of the Sixth Day

There is a beauty to the stars
And the earth and waters,
Though it’s said only of God’s sons and daughters,
That in His likeness made,
Imaging God’s glory.

But they listened to the dragon,
And take and eat they did—
From the forest chose the tree which God forbid.
Thus perfect complement,
One transgression tarnished.

Though all creation loudly groans,
Pricked by thorns and thistles,
Bright hope we have in Christ our Lord who whistles,
Our sin and death and wrath, “Come here”—
That’s how our Savior saves.

O now for men who dare protect
And sacrifice with might,
Who neither shirk the reins nor demand by right!
Yet in the Lord, and to redeem,
They do in battle bleed.

O now for women who selfless serve
And nurture people whole,
Who neither scorn their part nor another’s role!
Yet in the Lord, and for the King,
They offer helping hands.

“But the calling is too high,”
The cynics they do say.
“And for love of self, our culture too astray.”
Yet the beauty of God’s wisdom,
The Church of God shall shine.

 [Picture by Jeremy Thomas / Unsplash]

When a Door Closes and a Window Doesn’t Open

Jared C. Wilson is quickly becoming one of my favorite Christian authors. Writing about suffering and the goodness of God, in his book The Story of Everything, Wilson says this: 

I have a problem with all the “chase your dreams!” cheerleading from Christian leaders. It’s not because I begrudge people who want to achieve their dreams, but because I think we don’t readily see how easy it is to conflate our dream-chasing with God’s will in Christ.

You know, it’s possible that God’s plan for us is littleness. His plan for us maybe personal failure. It’s possible that when another door closes, it’s not because he plans to open the window but because he plans to have the building fall down on you. The question we must ask ourselves is this: Will Christ be enough? (Wilson, The Story of Everything, 122.)

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It’s not that this quote is necessarily the sum of all that Christianity is. No one paragraph of any book is able to capture all that Christianity is. But this paragraph does, in my opinion, reflect a theme of Christianity that is often underrepresented in our churches, even the best churches. When life is hard, tomorrow might not be better than today, at least in the way that we understand things.

Two things make Wilson’s quote especially pertinent to the life of John the Baptist. First, the statement about “littleness.” Of the several famous quotes by John the Baptist, one that he said of Jesus is this: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). Second, Wilson’s comment is relevant to John because of the statement about closing doors and not opening a window. Wilson is spoofing what is common in Christian lingo, that a closed door must mean another opportunity (a better opportunity!) will always arise. But it’s possible that won’t be the case . . . it was for John. When God sent John to prison, he didn’t get out. He was executed there (Matthew 14:1–12).

The question John must have been asking was whether Jesus would be enough for him when he actually did “decrease” and it seemed he was about to die? And the question for you and me is similar. Will Jesus be enough for us when we get “littleness” and a “window doesn’t open”?

Yes, yes he will.

When you stand up for what’s right and end up in jail (as was the case with John); when you have cancer; when you lose your job; when your house is robbed; when your parents get a divorce . . . Jesus is still Jesus. And he’s enough for you. At his weakest moment, God told the Apostle Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). Today, if you are weak, know that Jesus is strong and he loves you dearly, even if you don’t understand your own pain and God’s plan for it.

* This has been excerpted and adapted from a sermon I recently preached at Community Evangelical Free Church. You can listen below. 

[Picture by Gabriele Diwald / Unsplash]

12 Quotes from 12 WAYS YOUR PHONE IS CHANGING YOU

A few days ago, one of my favorite authors from one of my favorite publishers released a book I’ve been waiting for since I first heard about it. The book is 12 Ways Your Phone is Changing You by Tony Reinke, and it’s published by Crossway. You can watch the promo video for the book above.

I loved the book and will post a review sometime in the future. For now, here are 12 quotes to whet your appetite.

“We now check our smartphones every 4.3 minutes of our waking lives.” (p. 16)

“What we need are new life disciplines birthed from a new set of life priorities and empowered by our new life freedom in Jesus Christ. So I cannot tell you to put your phone away, to give it up, or to take it up again after a season of burnout. My aim is to explore why you would consider such actions in the first place.” (p. 21)

 “Conversations about our smartphones often do not raise new questions; they return us to perennial questions every generation has been forced to ask.” (p. 24)

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“This means that whatever happens on my smartphone, especially under the guise of anonymity, is the true exposé of my heart, reflected in full-color pixels back into my eyes.” (p. 27)

“We find ourselves in the middle of this garden-to-city unfolding of history, and God is governing the entire process in several ways. Between the guardrails of natural law, as well as the guardrails of the abundance and scarcity of certain raw materials in the earth, and carried forward through his image bearers, each wired for innovation, the trajectory of technological progress—from the garden to the city—was set in motion.” (p. 30)

“To be without the constant availability of distraction is solitary confinement, a punishment to be most dreaded. That is why in those moments when we realize we have forgotten our phone, lost it, or let the battery run out, we taste the captivity of a prison cell, and it can be frightening.” (p. 45)

“For those with eyes to see, Christ’s return is so imminent, it potently declutters our lives of everything that is superficial and renders all of our vain distractions irrelevant.” (p. 50)

“The modern-day mantra we hear so often—‘I will follow Christ, but don’t bother me with organized religion’—is symptomatic of the disembodied assumptions of the digital age. In reality, the Christian life could not be more embodied.” (p. 62)

“Those who feed on little nibbles of immediate approval from man will eternally starve. But those who aim their entire lives toward the glory and approval of God will find, in Christ, eternal approval. The stakes are that high.” (p. 77)

“Our souls have been raised to new life in order to brag of Christ, and as we speak, our joy expands and overflows, and we become creators and artists. Art is spontaneous. Art is doxology. Art is the reflection of God’s beauty into the world. This is why we exist!” (p. 96)

“The smartphone is causing a social reversal: the desire to be alone in public and never alone in seclusion. We can be shielded in public and surrounded in isolation, meaning we can escape the awkward” (p. 124)

“We pay more attention to our phones than we do to the third person of the Trinity, but he cares for us more than we care for ourselves. Perhaps you believe you would benefit spiritually by stepping away from your phone for a season. Or perhaps you feel led to rethink better boundaries in your digital life. Or you may be fed up with your love-hate-deactivate-delete-reactivate relationship with social media, and you are ready to rid yourself of your smartphone altogether. I cannot tell you what to do, but I can encourage you to heed the conviction of the Spirit, who will help you make the next step of obedience.” (p. 197)

 

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Be Careful with This Stuff: Foreword to More People to Love

Just before Christmas our book More People to Love was released. If you didn’t get a chance to pick it up, you can get it for free by subscribing to this blog (see sidebar). And if you want a paper copy, the book is only $7.99 on Amazon.

Below is the foreword to our book by author and syndicated radio host, Brant Hansen.

*     *     *

A note before you start reading this book: Be careful with this stuff.

If you take Jason and Benjamin seriously, you might wind up doing something dangerous, which is to say, actually follow through on it. You might even pick up and move. Now, for some people, moving into a troubled city is no big deal. But to me, it was an ironic twist of the highest order.

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I used to hate cities. Not moderately dislike; hate. No lie: I learned how to play guitar so I could play John Cougar Mellencamp songs. The first song I learned was—of course—“Small Town.” (For those younger than 40, this is a song about, you know, small towns, and how awesome they are.)

At the University of Illinois most of my friends were from Chicago. I was from a town called “Assumption” (population: 1,000). We argued endlessly about the relative merits of urban versus rural lifestyles.

Growing up in country churches, I’d sing along with songs about heaven. And they all evoked the countryside. “I want a mansion, just over the hilltop . . .” and “Just give me a little cabin, in the corner of Gloryland . . .”

Of course Heaven would be rural. It’s obvious. And Hell? Well, I’m just saying, it’s overcrowded. Probably has a subway. So draw your own conclusions.

I even used to dislike (again, I’m not making this up) Sesame Street because it was too urban. It scared me. Trashcans and brick buildings and apartments and everybody packed in there. Sure, I liked Grover—who doesn’t?—but the city thing was freaky.

 . . . and then it happened; I moved to the city. The ideas in this book, the ideas in the Bible . . . well, they’re dangerous, and they changed things for me. They changed everything.

It’s taken a long time to absorb, but I’ve learned that, apparently, God loves people more than cornstalks. I’ve also learned God wants to conform my heart to his. Sometimes, this means re-thinking, which happens to be what “repentance” means.

So, very long story short, here we are—my family and I living in the inner city. And, to add irony, on our street they could film Sesame Street. I frequently joke about hiding in our trashcan in front of our old brick building and doing some grouchy freelance puppetry.

I still love small towns and yearn for the familiar, but God has changed my heart on this one. As Jason and Benjamin point out in this book, heaven is going to be a city. The old hymns steered me wrong on this one.

Nature is beautiful, but is it possible that, to God, cities have a beauty of an even higher order? I’ve looked over the Rift Valley, and I’ve marveled at Yosemite and, like you, have seen the night sky.

Breathtaking.

But I also remember looking out over San Francisco in the evening and thinking, “You know what? There’s nothing else like this.”

God also created us to create. He loves us. To think we can also make something beautiful because we’re stamped with his image, and put so many people, who are so loved, in one place—there’s something breathtaking about that, too.

My wife and I have a totally different life together now. Our neighborhood is everything I was scared of growing up. We can’t set foot out the door without interacting with someone interesting, whether it’s a friendly old neighbor lady or a not-friendly old neighbor lady; a drunk person at 9 a.m. or the local drug dealer; the wonderful family crammed into an old place across the street with their five sweet little boys or . . . well . . . that young man who attacked my wife with a hammer in broad daylight on a Monday morning. Like I said, there’s always someone interesting just outside our door.

And when that hammer was thrown at my wife, she was just walking the dogs. Thankfully, she wasn’t hurt. Still, the guy just came up the street and threw a hammer. Then he ran up to her, put her in a headlock, and eventually threw her on the street. This was everything we’d feared, whether we’d said it aloud or not.

Could we even stay here?

My wife now says in some ways it was a blessing. We’re more connected to our neighbors than ever, and they know who we are. They also got to see my wife’s desire to forgive her attacker, even as we let the justice system do its necessary thing. We pray for the guy.

And we pray for our neighbors. Addicts, wiccans, weirdoes, whatever. Hey, we’re weird too, and we’re not here to change you. We can’t do that. We’re actually for you. Truth is, we don’t totally know what we’re doing. But wow, is this interesting!

There’s a man who sits on our sidewalk every day, all day and drinks beer. He’s old and full of stories. He told us, “You know what? You guys are the best thing to happen to this neighborhood in years.”

Whether that’s true or not, whether it was the beer talking or not, I was glad to hear it. Another neighbor sat on our stoop and asked my wife, “So, I’ve wondered something: Why do you guys love people here so much?”

I don’t tell you this to tell you we’re awesome. I tell you this because we’re not. You can do this, too. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m an introvert and socially awkward and very selfish and I don’t naturally like people at all . . . but my heart is changing.

God loves people—needy, broken people—and now . . . well, here they are, right outside our window.

I’m convinced he not only loves them, he likes them, too. Imagine that.

Me? I’m getting there.

Here’s to getting there together!

Brant Hansen, Syndicated Christian radio host and author of Unoffendable: How Just One Change Can Make All of Life Better

[Photo by Abigail Keenan / Unsplash]

Power, Money, and Sex Won’t Satisfy

Power, Money, and Sex Won’t Satisfy
Guest Post by Cody Swartz

The legendary athlete Deion Sanders wrote a book titled, Power, Money, and Sex: How Success Almost Ruined My Life. The book chronicles Deion’s upbringing from a record-breaking high school athlete in Florida to a two-sport professional star and the first man ever to play in both the World Series and the Super Bowl. Despite his success and fame, Deion talked openly about his insecurities and his never-ending hunger and thirst for happiness, especially from power, money, and sex. 

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Contrary to what Deion may think, he’s not alone in this struggle, as countless Christians and non-Christians have fought through the same issues. We’ve all grasped for identity through materialistic items that only lead to long-term pain. My own personal trials and tribulations have included battles with self-worth, body image, lust, anxiety, and worldly pleasures. At times, I’ve masqueraded as a righteous and godly man while battling inner demons that offer instant gratification but damage my relationship with Jesus Christ. These struggles aren’t new to our generation; finding joy in what pleases the eye has been around since the Garden of Eden.

Even having grown up in a church-going family with two loving parents, I have a tendency to read the Bible and assume the men and women in God’s Word had it “all figured out.” They didn’t have the problems that we have today. They sat around praising Jesus and singing hymns and washing each other’s feet all day, right?

Well, not really. David was an insecure backstabber who compromised a life-long friendship with Uriah to steal Bathsheba, his best friend’s wife – and then arrange for the death of Uriah. We all know about Samson’s struggles with women. Or consider Peter. In the final days that he spent with Jesus before Christ’s death, Peter denied knowing Him not once, not twice, but three times. And Moses killed a man – a crime that would get you 25 to life in today’s society.

Do you remember the story in the Bible of Jesus feeding the 5,000 with five loaves of bread and two fish? In John 6:22–59, we read about what happened right after that story. Now, the people who flocked to Jesus weren’t murderers or adulterers, at least not that we know of. They were merely hungry – although you could throw other words in there as well: needy, ungrateful, clingy, and possibly unbelieving.

Here’s what happened. After feeding the 5,000 people – Jesus, a likely introvert before the word was readily used to describe people – got into his boat and crossed to the other side of the lake. The people found Him and they immediately made their earthly desires known: give us more food. Jesus was merely a means of satisfying their hunger. They were consumers. The Son of Man was right in front of them, but they didn’t want Him; they wanted Him to snap his fingers and prepare another buffet. And what happened 2,000 years ago, too often, still happens today.

When it’s exam day for that certification we’ve spent three months studying for, it’s God’s time to shine. “Let me pass, Lord, and I’ll let you know what I need next.” When we’re sick, we pray that He will heal us. When we’re depressed, when we’re trying to make ends meet financially, or when we’re afraid of the unknown, we tend to rely on God more than when everything is blissful in our lives. It’s go time for God.

Look at the way Jesus responded to the people in John 6. He said, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry” (v. 35). You’ll see the word “bread” 15 times in this passage, and its double meaning explains the difference between how we as humans think and how our Heavenly Father thinks. The people were clamoring for their earthly bread while Jesus was insisting they stop focusing on their earthly hunger and instead rely on Him.

Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. . . . Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them. (John 6:53, 56)

Jesus was telling his people to commit to Him in all that they do. He doesn’t want halfhearted lukewarm Christianity in which people rely on God only when they have a problem. Instead, He’s offering Himself to us, and He wants us to be satisfied in Him – all of the time. This is the beauty of salvation through grace. It can’t be earned. It can’t be bought. It’s a free gift God gives us.

I ask you, what is your earthly bread that keeps you from seeking Jesus with all your heart? Is it your own hobbies and selfish desires? Is it the desire to be liked by others? Is it your ambition to climb the corporate ladder? Is it an addiction you’ve secretly battled for ages?

Jesus wants you to replace this food by turning to Him to be satisfied. Acquiring your worldly treasure won’t satisfy you. It may give you temporary satisfaction, but until you turn to Jesus and make Him the focal point of your life, you will be empty on the inside. You’ll be hungry, just like the people in John 6.

*     *     *

CODY SWARTZ is a member of Community Evangelical Free Church in Harrisburg, PA.

 [Picture by Artur Rutkowski / Unsplash]

When Sin is Serious, Salvation is Joyous

Last Sunday, Christians around the world began celebrating the season of Advent. The word “advent” is from the Latin word adventus, which means “coming.” Thus, the Advent season is a time to reflect upon the coming of Jesus, especially his coming to earth in the first Christmas story. It is a preparatory season, a time to prepare our hearts and minds to behold the beauty of Jesus.

Sometimes, however, the celebration in our hearts is only hum-drum. Our hearts do not explode with fireworks at the joy of the incarnation. Instead, they flicker by the light, as it were, of a single votive candle somewhere off in the distance.

Likely there are many reasons for this, but perhaps one reason is we do not see sin as serious, and thus our salvation is not as joyous as it could be, even should be.

Home by Marilynne Robinson

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I’ve been reading through a series of novels by Marilynne Robinson. She is a gifted author, and for many years has played various roles at the renowned creative writing program at the University of Iowa (currently Professor Emeritus). The series includes Gilead (2004), which won a Pulitzer Prize, Home (2008), and Lila (2014). Each novel tells a version of the same story through the eyes of a different character. The stories center around two pastors and their families in the small town of Gilead, Iowa in the middle of the twentieth century.

The second book, Home, tells the story from the perspective of Glory, the daughter of the Presbyterian minister Robert Boughton.

I’m mentioning all of this because of a fascinating description by Glory about the spiritual complacency of her town and her father’s preaching about sin. She says,

Complacency was consistent with the customs and manners of Presbyterian Gilead and was therefore assumed to be justified in every case. . . . Even her father’s sermons treated salvation as a thing for which they could be grateful as a body. . . . He did mention sin, but it was rarefied in his understanding of it, a matter of acts and omissions so common­place that no one could be wholly innocent of them or especially alarmed by them, either — the uncharitable thought, the neglected courtesy. . . (p. 111)

Taken in the context of the novel, it’s not entirely clear whether we should view Glory’s description of her father’s preaching as wholly reliable. Glory, while respectful of her father and her father’s faith, does not seem to have embraced Christianity herself. Regardless, the essence of what Glory says is that in the estimation of the town (and perhaps her father), sin isn’t so bad, and therefore complacency over sin is justified.

But is this really good preaching?

The reviewer of Home in the New York Times, A. O. Scott, seems to appreciate this charitable and tolerant approach toward sin. Scott writes,

There is real kindness and generosity in the town, and its theological disposition is accordingly tolerant and charitable. Reverend Boughton embodies this forgiving, welcoming spirit.

In the above quote, I’m not sure whether Scott has in mind the old meaning of tolerance, which indeed is a virtue, or the new meaning of tolerance, which is not. (“Old tolerance” means, though you do not agree with another person, you still believe he or she has the right to believe it, and therefore you tolerate the person and the view. “New tolerance” means all points of view, regardless of their merit, are equally laudable.)

Still, going back to the description by Glory, notice the specific wording she uses to describe her father’s preaching about sin. She says, according to her father, sins were mere “acts and omissions so common­place that no one could be wholly innocent of them or especially alarmed by them.”

What kind of sins might have been discussed in these sermons? Apparently, nothing too disturbing. Using the terminology of our own day, apparently he was preaching about the sins of failing to call your mother on her birthday; the sins of not returning emails fast enough; the sins of thinking mean thoughts about a homeless man and the misspelling on his cardboard sign; and the sins of not helping the neighbor kid with her fundraiser. Sins like this.

It would seem that Reverend Boughton preached about transgressions so innocent and un-alarming as to hardly require a savior at all. We’ve all made mistakes, dropped the ball, and fallen short of the glory of the good Samaritan. These kinds of sins happen to the best of us, and we’re sorry about it, but we’re certainly not alarmed.

What does the Bible say about sin and salvation?

Don’t misunderstand me, though. My negative comments about Reverend Boughton’s preaching are not reflective of my view of the whole novel and the series, which I’m rather enjoying. Perhaps I’m overly sensitive because it’s my profession that’s being discussed.

And please do not think that I am advocating the hellfire preaching of yesteryear. My point is simply that Boughton’s light-on-sin-preaching, wherever it does exist, is a shame. It’s a shame not because it’s wimpy preaching (“real men preach about sin”). Rather, this type of preaching is unbecoming to ministers because it’s not faithful to the Bible, which is the only true measure of preaching, not my personal preferences. And in the Bible, sin is certainly an ugly, fearsome, insidious thing which wars against the Creator and the ultimate flourishing of humanity.

Consider what Jesus says in Mark 7:21–23,

For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, sensuality, envy, slander, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.

And look at this list of sins from Romans 1:29–31,

They were filled with all manner of unrighteousness, evil, covetousness, malice. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, maliciousness. They are gossips, slanderers, haters of God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless.

In short, sin is alarming.

And if sin against a holy God is serious, then we should despair. Except, of course, Christians shouldn’t despair. We don’t despair because there is a Savior who drank the cup of God’s wrath, and therefore, there’s nothing left for Christians to drink (Mark 14:36; Romans 3:25–26).

It’s this good news that causes the Apostle Paul to burst into song in 1 Corinthians 15:55. Because of the incarnation, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, Paul writes,

O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?

On this point—in the Bible sin is serious and therefore salvation is joyous—I could go on and on, but just consider the way this two-pronged theme so frequently occurs in our beloved Christmas hymns. Take, for example, the familiar lines in O Holy Night. Yes, of course, “long lay the world in sin and error pining.” But this is not the whole story. The verse continues, “[when the Savior appears] the weary world rejoices.”

Conclusion

It’s the times when I have seen my sin as deeply offensive to God—not as minor mistakes or foibles or idiosyncrasies of my personality—that the good-news story of Jesus has actually been to me good news, not a cliché.

But this kind of self-reflection requires courage. As pastor and author Timothy Keller writes in his recent book Hidden Christmas,

Are you willing to say, “I am a moral failure. I don’t love God with all my heart, soul, strength, and mind. I don’t love my neighbor as myself. And, therefore, I am guilty, and I need forgiveness and pardon . . .”?

It takes enormous courage to admit these things, because it means throwing your old self-image out and getting a new one through Jesus Christ.

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And yet that is the foundation for all the other things that Jesus can bring into your life—all the comfort, all the hope, all the joyful humility, and everything else. (60–61)

Let me return to where I began. This Christmas, my hope and prayer is that our hearts will explode with praise over the salvation that comes through Jesus. If this is to happen, first we need to reckon seriously with the darkness within us. If we do this, then we’ll appreciate that from outside of us “a light has dawned” (Matthew 4:16).

[Picture by Alessandro Viaro / Unsplash]

Social Media Jealously

I’m taking a break from social media. A few weeks ago, on all three of my main social media accounts (Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram) I posted some version of these sentences:

Except for the occasional post, I'm taking a rest from social media. My heart is frazzled. If rehab goes well, I'll be back in November.

Bringing up my time away from social media on my blog, however, feels strange, perhaps even wrong. I almost feel guilty of what the Babylon Bee was making fun of in the article, “Man Live-Tweets Social Media Fast.” Their point was this: get over yourself.

Still, I thought I’d mention a few of the reasons for the break, not primarily because I think “everyone wants to know,” but because I thought it might help you think through your own usage of social media.

For the most part, the decision was motivated by three things. First, I was receiving so many updates and notifications that it was hard to function with the constant interruptions. And even when I wasn’t receiving notifications, I developed a strange, creepy desire to constantly check my phone. I felt this urge the second I woke up; I felt it while I worked; I felt it at home. I was beginning to have trouble concentrating. It’s difficult to measure, but it seemed to me that I was even reading my Bible with less and less thoughtfulness. It was terrible.

The second reason for the break was that I was beginning to resent the trivializing of all information that was taking place in my heart. As you scroll through your social media feed, you see both stupid cat videos and shootings. Personally, I don’t know if the human soul was meant to take in information that way; I know that I’m not able to do it.

The third reason for the break was the main reason. I found myself having a strange twinge of jealousy every time I opened a social media app. It was awful.

At its core, envy is the belief in an alternate “gospel.” It’s the belief that something other than Jesus will satisfy our deepest longings. It’s the belief that something—whatever it is—if we have it, it will let us “depart in peace.”

When I’m jealous of what I see in other people’s social media feeds—whether family stuff, or pastor stuff, or writing stuff, or exercise stuff, or big-house stuff, or whatever stuff makes me become jealous—I’m not believing the real gospel. Rather, I’m believing The Gospel of Stuff: if I have the right stuff, then I can depart in peace.

Do you know what event made me realize how badly I need a break? It was a book review, actually—one I posted a few weeks ago. Now, let me say this first. The book is a good book, certainly one worth reviewing. We even sell it in our church bookstore.

But let me tell you why I also wrote the review. In part, I wrote the review because I’d love to become friends with the two young authors who wrote the book. Moreover, I have a writing project that I’ve been tinkering with for the last 18 months, and I think it would fit perfectly with the same publisher that published their book.

Do you see where this is going? If I reviewed their book, well, maybe it would grease the publishing wheels a bit.

I suppose this motivation isn’t entirely wrong. After all, the wheels of publishing don’t turn easily. But I do know that the size of my desire for these things grew to a sinful proportion.

By the end of that Tuesday night, both authors had hit “like” to my Tweet about my review. It felt nice. When I saw the second author do that right before bedtime, however, I could hear Jesus say to me, “You have received your reward in full.”

Now, he didn’t actually say this to me, as though I saw a bright vision and heard an audible voice. But if God has ever spoken to me, I’d say that he did so then. Those words come from a sermon Jesus gave in Matthew 6. Jesus spoke them to some people who were trying very hard to earn the approval of others. And when they got it, he told them they’d “received their reward in full.”

So, I’m taking a month off from social media. My heart is frazzled and needs to heal. I’ll keep writing and posting things on my blog, but I need to spend some extra time repenting of sin and soaking in the gospel. By the way, I’m so thankful that when Jesus truly loves someone, he loves them enough to keep them from drifting away from himself, even if it’s only in subtle ways at first. Thank you, Jesus. 

[Picture by Kate Serbin / Unsplash]

Husbands, Praise and Praise Again

Rise and rise again
     until lambs become lions.

That’s a line from the movie Robin Hood (2010) with Russell Crowe. It means you must do something over and over until change happens; in this case, you must repeatedly summon the courage for battle until the fearful become fighters.

Recently, while teaching through the book and video series, The Mingling of Souls: God's Design for Love, Marriage, Sex, and Redemption by Matthew Chandler and Jared Wilson, I came across something I wrote almost twelve years ago. It’s a reflection on the way King Solomon repeatedly praises his bride in the Old Testament book the Song of Solomon (also sometimes called, the Song of Songs).

I wrote it for my then fiancée, now wife, Brooke. But I also wrote it for myself. I hoped it would shape the type of husband I would become, even as it (hopefully and subsequently) would shape my wife. Perhaps I could summarize what I wrote in this way:

Praise and praise again
     until brambles become lilies.

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The point is that a husband is to praise his wife, so constantly, so faithfully, that it changes her.

I don’t think the poetry in my line is as strong as the original from Robin Hood; I’m missing the alliteration of “l” (lambs, lions). But my line does have an allusion to Song of Solomon and the way he praises his bride. In 2:2, he says, “As a lily among brambles, so is my love among the young women.”

All of this to say, I gave the below reflection on the Song of Solomon some fresh polish, as well as making it more generic so that I could share it with you. May God use it as a helpful reminder—for me and husbands everywhere.

*     *     *

Right in the middle of the Old Testament, there is a Hebrew love poem written about King Solomon and his bride. In the book, she is not named, though she is referred to once as the “Shulammite” (6:13).

There are a number of different ways to interpret the book. One popular and, I believe, helpful approach is the “chronological” view. (This, by the way, is the view taken in The Mingling of Souls). In this approach, the eight chapters are understood to follow the couple’s relationship from their initial attraction, to their dating, to courting, to wedding, to honeymoon, and finally through married life.

But one thing is for sure: Solomon’s bride is not a rock of security and self-confidence, or at least not originally. In 1:5-6, she says to her friends,

I am very dark, but lovely,
     O daughters of Jerusalem,
like the tents of Kedar,
     like the curtains of Solomon.

Do not gaze at me because I am dark,
     because the sun has looked upon me.
My mother's sons were angry with me;
     they made me keeper of the vineyards,
     but my own vineyard I have not kept!

Can you hear her insecurities? “Do not look at me.”

Apparently, she was not from a wealthy family; her brothers made her work all day outside in a hot vineyard while her “own vineyard,” that is her body and personal appearance, she didn’t “keep.”

If you only read the beginning of their love song, however, you would not expect the Shulammite woman ever to say, “Let my beloved come to his garden, and eat its choicest fruits” (4:16b). Yet this is precisely what she whispers to Solomon on her wedding night. She almost sounds like a different woman. And in many ways she is. Something changes, something massive changes.

Brooke and me after our wedding, May 29, 2005.

Throughout the book, Solomon devotes himself to praising and prizing “[his] sister and [his] bride” (4:9). In fact, of all the twenty-one verses that Solomon speaks before chapter five (the consummation of the marriage), not a single verse is missing a praise of her physical beauty, strength of character, or an expression of his desire for her to come away with him.

Solomon praises her eyes three times; her cheeks, fragrance, and lips twice; and her neck, teeth, lips, mouth, breasts, tongue, and her chastity are all admired once. And he pronounces her beautiful six times (1:8, 15 [twice]; 4:1 [twice], 7).

The amazing thing to ponder is that this practice doesn’t cease after the honeymoon. It doesn’t even appear to slow down. He’s like the Energizer Bunny of Praise. Four times, he calls her beautiful (6:4, 10, 7:1, 6). In fact, in the sixteen verses that Solomon speaks after 5:1, only his closing verse (8:13) does not contain overt praise of his wife. Yet even in this line, he expresses his desire to hear her voice.

And this, as I understand it, changes everything.

Husbands, praise and praise again until brambles become lilies.

[Picture by Rachael Crowe / Unsplash]

Consumer v. Covenant Relationships

There’s a lot of pressure on engaged couples to have the perfect wedding. I recently wrote about this in an article called, “The Problem with the Pinterest Dream Wedding.”

After the article was published, an author, Catherine Parks, reached out to me. Parks co-authored a book with her mother about this very topic. It’s called, A Christ-Centered Wedding: Rejoicing in the Gospel on Your Big Day. I just finished reading it last week.

If you’re engaged or if you have a friend or family member who is, this book would make a great gift. It’s full of sturdy, gospel-centered advice to counter the pressures to have the perfect wedding and keep the focus where it ought to be. Catherine Parks and her co-author, Linda Strode, write in the introduction,

Don’t get us wrong—we aren’t saying ... you shouldn’t ever look at Pinterest or magazines [to help create the perfect wedding]. We have just seen so many couples suffer through planning their weddings, weighed down by all the pressure to make them unique and perfect. (p. 2)

This has been my experience working with couples, too.

But this pressure to have a “dream wedding” sometimes spills over to the pastor who officiates the wedding, at least I know it does to me. In my article for Desiring God, I wrote,

There’s something in me, something ugly, that longs to preach Ephesians 5 better than it’s ever been preached: a sermon that engages the un-churched, dazzles the mature Christian, and rescues the estranged couple off the cliff of divorce.

Buy on Amazon

Each time I share a message in a wedding, it’s a little different. That’s because every couple is different. Below is the most recent message I shared at a friend’s wedding. In it, I talk about the difference between “consumer” and “covenant” relationships. I find this distinction to be a helpful way to explain the greater meaning of marriage.

It’s possible that Timothy Keller has said something about this, perhaps in a message I heard him preach on Proverbs or maybe in his book The Meaning of Marriage; it all runs together for me. (If you know where he does this, let me know.)

Anyway, the below message takes me about 8-10 minutes to share. I’m not sure it’s a “Pinterest dream wedding sermon,” but it’s what I’ve got for now.  

[Note, I changed the names of the bride and groom. Also, these reflections followed a reading of Ephesians 5:22-31 done by family members.]

*     *     *

At this time, I’m going to share a few comments about marriage and about the gospel. These comments are for all of us, but I would especially like to share them with you, John and Jessica.

I will say, though, that if you are here and you are not a Christian—perhaps you haven’t been to a church in a long time, or ever—you may be thinking, “I knew it; here it comes.” If that’s you, that’s okay. If I were you, I might feel that same way.

However, I would encourage you to listen in because so often I find that what people think Christianity is all about, is really not what it’s about at all. And discussing for a few moments the deeper meaning of marriage might be a wonderful way for you to consider what it is that Christians actually believe, at least at the core of our faith.

Marriage is, according to the Bible, more than a lifelong commitment to each other; it’s at least this, but it’s also more. Marriage is a reflection of what the Bible calls “the gospel.” And what I’d like to explain, just briefly, is how your marriage—and all marriages—are to reflect the relationship that God has with his people and God’s people have with him.

A good way to do this is to talk about two types of relationships. I want to talk about “consumer” and “covenant” relationships.

Just so that I’m not misunderstood, both types of relationships—consumer and covenant—have a proper place. Both can be very appropriate and healthy. A problem occurs, however, when we mistake a covenant relationship for a consumer one. To be more specific, the problem is when we mistake the covenant of marriage for a consumer relationship.

But let me back up. When we talk about consumer relationships, what do we mean? They are one-sided relationships where, as long as the other person keeps doing his or her part, then we will do our part. We have these relationships all the time. For example, many times in the last two years, when John and I would meet to talk about life and pray for each other, we would go to either Starbucks or our favorite local coffee shop, Little Amps. These are different types of coffee shops, I know, but I like them both. But I’m in a consumer relationship with them both. If one of them stops “delivering the goods,” well, eventually, I’m going to stop going.

The hallmark of a consumer relationship is that as long as they—the other person—holds up their end of the bargain, then I’ll hold up mine. If they change their product quality or if something happens, well, I’m free to do what I want; it’s my money.

I was talking with my father last year, and he told me how recently, yet reluctantly, he changed his home and car insurance carrier after over thirty some years with the same company. There was an incident that made him change, which I won’t go into. But I bring this up because my father is the most brand-loyal guy I know. When he finds something he likes, he sticks with it. But even for him, even in his loyalty, his relationship with an insurance company is still a consumer relationship.

And there is nothing wrong with that. Again, the problem comes when we bring this consumer view of relationships into marriage, which is to be a covenant relationship.

A covenant relationship is not focused on whether or not the other person delivers the goods. No, a covenant relationship is one based on a solemn vow to hold up your own end of the agreement regardless of whether the other person does. This is the most beautiful of all relationships because it means that you can be truly known—known in all of your glory, but also known in all of your depravity and shame and failures and insecurities—and not only known, but still loved. This is the meaning of unconditional love: truly known and dearly loved.

It’s God’s intention that marriage would be this type of relationship—one not based on what the other person does, but rather, through “better and worse, sickness and health, richer and poorer,” the marriage holds.

Those statements, which are so often included in wedding ceremonies, wouldn’t make any sense in a consumer relationship. If the baristas at Starbucks start spitting in my coffee, well, they are not going to be getting my $2.23 for a grande dark roast, which, by the way, I get with no room for cream or sugar. (Just mentioning that in case anyone ever wants to get me one.)

So, what does this have to do with anything? Let me come back to where I started. John and Jessica, your relationship in marriage is a covenant relationship. It’s to be a place where you truly know each other and deeply love one another—unconditionally.

And the reason that God has designed marriage to work this way is because it displays to the world the way God loves people in the gospel. This is the heart of Christianity. Christians do not believe that God loves us because we have done good; that would be a consumer relationship. Rather, at the heart of Christianity is the covenant love of God.

The sad truth is that all of us, according to the Bible, are more like a faithless bride than a faithful one. Or to put it another way, we have spit in God’s coffee. And the gospel is the good news that, in Jesus, God has undertaken a rescue mission to win back his bride. It’s the good news that God sent his Son, Jesus, to do what we could not, would not, did not do.

The Bible teaches that Jesus lived a perfect life; he was utterly faithful to God the Father, and loved him supremely. And then out of love for God, Jesus went to a cross and died, suffering the ultimate punishment for sin.

Marriage is to display this. Specifically, you John, as a husband and based on the passage of Scripture just read (Ephesians 5:22-31), are to love Jessica as Jesus loves you: sacrificially and unconditionally. This is a high and honorable calling.

And Jessica, your beautiful part is to represent the Church—the part of a loving, responsive, committed Church. Jessica, as an equal in person and value, you are to be John’s best friend and his most devoted helper, that together, you may accomplish the purposes of God, and in doing this, you will display to the world the beauty and blessing that it is for us, the Church, to follow God. You also have a high and beautiful calling.

I want to end with this. Yes, you have your roles to play and yes, you ought to do them well, just as we all ought to do them, but you must remember something in the process: God loves you, both of you, John and Jessica. And though you will both inadequately display the gospel in your marriage, remember that you are not saved because you do right, but because God loved you even while you were at your worst, and he continues to love you. May this gospel of the covenant love of God be the centerpiece of your life together.

[Photo by Josh Felise / Unsplash]

What Holds You Captive?

Over the years, I’ve attended a number of men’s retreats, even helping to organize a few of them. But I’ve never been asked to be the main speaker for one—until now. Recently, my former church asked me to speak at their retreat. It’s coming up the first weekend in August.

The theme was set by the church, though I was encouraged to massage it some. We’ll be talking about the things that tend to imprison men. For a number of reasons, this seemed like a great chance to spend a weekend in the book of Judges, a book packed with men who were imprisoned by their sin, men who “did what is right in their own eyes” (Judges 17:6; 21:25).

The handout for the retreat is still in the “draft” stage, but if you like, you can see it here. And below is my welcome letter to the guys, as well as the outline for my four talks. Also, online registration is here. 

I’m very excited. I hope they are, too.

*     *     *

Welcome Letter

Men of New Life Bible Fellowship:

Thank you for asking me to speak at your retreat. I’m coming to this retreat to have fun, to laugh, to “get away,” and to see old friends and make some new ones. I hope you are, too.

But if these are the only reasons we’ve come, then we are wasting our time—and not only our time but our families’ time, our churches’ time, and most especially God’s time.

This retreat is strategic. It’s for more than fun, more than laughter. It’s a time for us to get away from distractions so that we can listen to God and ask him to make us into the men he calls us to be, that is, men who are not enslaved to sin but set free to serve and love Christ. Across the weekend, as we look at the Old Testament book of Judges, we’ll discuss 12 issues that have (and continue to) “imprison men.” But we’ll also see how the gospel of Jesus Christ sets us free. 

And to that end I ask you to fully commit, to not hold anything back, to be transparent, thoughtful, and repentant. I ask that you labor to come back home changed by the gospel. If we do this, our time will not be wasted, our families will thank us, and God will be honored.

Grace and peace,
Benjamin Vrbicek

Session 1, Friday PM

Upon Further Review
Judges 2:6–3:6

Summary: As men, we are prone to give superficial assessment of our failures: “The sun was in my eyes,” or “I’m too old to change.” But the Bible, specifically this passage in Judges, doesn’t let us do that. And that’s a good thing! A superficial understanding of sin only allows for superficial freedom. God, however, wants to give you true freedom (John 8:32).

Key Verse: “And all that generation also were gathered to their fathers. And there arose another generation after them who did not know the Lord or the work that he had done for Israel” (Judges 2:10).

Themes: Superficial assessment and excuses; no gospel-relationship with God; failure to pass on the faith to the next generation

Outline: I. Why the conquest failed. II. What God was going to do about it.

Session 2, Saturday AM

The Purpose of Privilege
Judges 13:24–16:31

Summary:  When we think about what it means to be “privileged,” we often think of it as something that belongs to someone else. “Look at that guy; he’s got it all; he’s privileged.” But everyone of us, in our own ways, has been privileged. The question that hangs over Samson’s life, and for that matter our lives, is this: How will we use our privilege? Will we squander our privilege on ourselves or leverage it for the good of others?

Key Verse:  “Samson said to his father, ‘Get her for me, for she is right in my eyes’” (Judges 14:3).

Themes: Abuse of power; sexual sin; doing what’s right in your own eyes

Outline: I. Privilege: its abuse.  II. Privilege: its proper use.

Session 3, Saturday PM

Feasting in Freedom
Judges 17:1–18:31

Summary: There’s nothing wrong with hard work and getting ahead, even being a shrewd entrepreneur. But what happens when we take a “good thing” and make it an “ultimate thing”? What happens when we exalt work—or hobbies, or family, or safety, or money, or sex, or anything—to the place of god? When we do this, idolatry happens; slavery happens. Yet, how are we to overcome this idolatry? The Christian answer is that we must feast on the gospel. As Jesus said, “My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink” (John 6:55).

Key Verse: “You take my gods that I made and the priest, and go away, and what have I left? How then do you ask me, ‘What is the matter with you?’” (Judges 18:24).

Themes: Worldly ambition; making “good things” into “ultimate things”; replacing one idol for another idol

Outline: I. Setting the table. II. An empty table.

Session 4, Sunday AM

Finish Strong
Judges 6:1–10:5

Summary: What matters in the Christian life is finishing strong. But not everyone does this. Have you ever wondered why? In Judges 7–10, we see that Gideon didn’t finish well. Yes, God used him to lead his people in a great victory, but sadly then came pride and isolation. Men, let’s reject pride and remain accountable to each other and to God. Let’s finish strong.

Key Verse: “And Gideon made an ephod of it and put it in his city, in Ophrah. And all Israel whored after it there, and it became a snare to Gideon and to his family” (Judges 8:27).

Themes: Pride; lack of gospel-friendships and gospel-accountability; hero worship

Outline: I. Running right. II. Finishing wrong.

[Photo by Joshua Earle / Unsplash]

RESISTING GOSSIP by Matthew C. Mitchell (FAN AND FLAME Book Reviews)

Matthew C. Mitchell. Resisting Gossip: Winning the War of the Wagging Tongue. CLC Publications, 2016. 192 pp. $13.99. 

Recently on Tuesdays at our church, over the course of six weeks, a few of us skipped lunch and prayed together. We prayed about evangelism; we wanted to ask God to make us better sharers of the Good News Story of Jesus.

One thing we all noted repeatedly throughout the six weeks was this: because evangelism was something we were constantly thinking about, seeking inroads for, and praying towards, all of us tended to notice more opportunities around us for evangelism. The opportunities were everywhere. 

Buy on Amazon

As I read Resisting Gossip: Winning the War of the Wagging Tongue by Matthew C. Mitchell, something similar happened. No, I didn’t start gossiping more (I don’t think). I did, however, notice that gossip is everywhere, and not just from other people—from me too. This is one of the great helps of the book: highlighting a sin so common that we hardly notice it. Our inability to recognize gossip is especially tragic, because, as Mitchell writes, “technology has made it possible for us to gossip long distance” (p. 23). Oops, there goes a tweet, a post, a share, a message. Gossip is white noise to us.

What’s interesting about not noticing gossip, however, is that we certainly still notice when it hurts us. (He said WHAT about me!?) Mitchell, a pastor of Lanse Evangelical Free Church, remembers when gossip hurt him. “One time, when the gossip was at its worst,” he writes, “I thought seriously about quitting the pastorate altogether” (p. 17). Maybe you’re not in full-time ministry, but likely you can relate to a time when you were hurt by gossip and perhaps even wanted to walk away from a particular school, job, or church. Sticks and stones can break bones but names can never . . . .

Resisting Gossip is structured in four parts, moving from a definition of gossip (I), to how we resist gossip (II), then to our response when others gossip (III), and finally, what to do when we regret the words we’ve spoken (IV). There are discussion questions at the end of each chapter, a bibliography for further reading, and a bonus chapter for church leaders on creating a culture that resists gossip.

The book is full of stories about the damage gossip inflicts. Of course, to protect the guilty, the names have been changed, except for when Mitchell is the culprit. Even as he encourages us to be changed by the gospel to resist sin, he models this gospel-change that allows him to own his sin. In a more humorous moment (at least for readers), Mitchell recounts a time when an extended family member visited, and through thin-walls and under doors, his gossip leaked. “I complained long and hard to [my wife] about our relative [who was in another room] . . . . It was chilly at our place the next morning!” (p. 83).

My favorite chapter was Chapter 3: A Gallery of Gossips, where Mitchell offers five profile sketches: The Spy, The Grumbler, The Backstabber, The Chameleon, and The Busybody. In a way—and this is in part what I liked so much about this chapter and the whole book—it thoughtfully engages the book of Proverbs, another book with much to say about wagging tongues. “The words of a gossip are like choice morsels; they go down to the inmost parts.” (Proverbs 18:8, NIV).

Another favorite section came near the end of the book as Mitchell contrasts the difference between a distinctively Christian approach to how sin is forgiven and how it is done in every other religious or secular system. He gives the example of a Jewish author who teaches that if you, as a guilty gossiper, find yourself in a place where you are tempted to sin again, and “you do not repeat the mistake [of gossip] . . . not only are you forgiven, but it’s as if you never made the original mistake.” Mitchel writes, “No. This is not how it works! . . . Christians are forgiven and cleansed only because of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ” (p. 147). On our own, the scales will never balance. Jesus said, “I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak” (Matthew 12:36). We need a savior who absorbs the punishment for our “careless words” and gives us credit for his perfection.

For sinners like us, it’s speaking gossip that comes easy and resisting gossip that comes hard. But, by the grace of God and for the glory of God, we have to do it. Matthew C. Mitchell’s book Resisting Gossip is a good book to help us recognize and resist this common sin.

[Photo by Josh Felise / Unsplash]

Sin Is Like Cobalt-60 - Don't Touch It

In Hebrews 3:13, the author uses the phrase “the deceitfulness of sin.” “But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called ‘today,’ that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.”

What does this phrase—“the deceitfulness of sin”—mean?

It means that sin lies. It’s dishonest; it’s a fraud. Sin leads astray. We might even say that sin “seduces.” That’s the sense the same Greek word has in other places, as a temptress and a seducer (e.g. Mark 4:19). Sin whispers, “You will not surely die. This will taste good; this will satisfy; this will make you alive.”

But, it doesn’t! It does not make us alive; it kills. Our hearts may beat faster for a moment but then comes the flatline. In this way, sin is like radioactive material—any contact, even a little, is deadly. That’s why those who handle uranium wear special suits and gloves.

A few years ago, some guys in Mexico stole a truck that was carrying Cobalt-60, and, unfortunately for them, after the getaway, the men opened up the sealed containers on the truck. They, however, were not wearing special suits and gloves.

When I saw the news story break, it sounded like the men weren’t going to make it (here and here). If acute radiation syndrome, as it’s called, had already begun to set in, then the cells in their bodies had begun to stop dividing. They were nauseous and vomiting. Their skin had begun to turn red. And quickly, the effects would become neurovascular, which meant that as the news story was breaking, they were probably already feeling dizzy. Very soon, they would lose consciousness. They needed treatment—and treatment now!

Getting such treatment, however, would first mean their sin had to come into the light, and turning themselves in would have had its own kind of pain. When a truck of stolen cobalt goes missing and then becomes international news, you can’t just enter a hospital in the same town and say, “I have a tummy ache”—especially if your skin is cherry red!

When sin stays in the dark, its power grows and its infection spreads. Bringing sin into the light, however, stops the spread. In the light, sin can’t lie, can’t deceive, can’t seduce. The apostle John speaks to this when he wrote,

But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin . . . . If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:7, 9)

Friends, if sin has seduced you, run to the light! Don’t wait until your hair falls out. Don’t hide in the dark allowing your acute radiation poisoning, your sin, to kill you. Instead, confess your sins to God, and he will cleanse you.

The forgiveness offered in Jesus is real. His death on the cross is sufficient; his Easter resurrection was victorious. Don’t be seduced. The pleasures of sin are fleeting. Come to the light, and find superior satisfaction in the love that God has for you.

[Photo by Presidio of Monterey / CC BY] 

Godless vs. Godward Gratitude

This fall, I wrote a short response to an essay by Laura Hillenbrand, which she wrote on the topic of gratitude called “Two-Minute Ode to Chocolate.” Actually, it’s probably the other way around; it was Hillenbrand who wrote the short essay, and I who wrote a long response.

Regardless, my central critique was that real gratitude must terminate somewhere (or better, not somewhere but on Someone). Hillenbrand’s gratitude, however, while abundant in her essay, doesn't terminate anywhere or on anyone. Instead, her thanksgiving just wafts away, as though it will be reabsorbed back into the impersonal universe that gave her such marvelous gifts in the first place.

This, however, is not how gratitude should work. This is god-less gratitude. It’s not godless because it is the sum of all evil; it’s godless because it is gratitude devoid God.

At one place in my response I wrote,

I love Hillenbrand’s prose, but she simply stops short; she traces [the source of her many blessings] around the globe to farmers and seeds and donkeys and red soil and even to the heavens for rain. But while she traces them “in every direction,” her gratitude arrives nowhere, like a perpetual road trip without a destination. Hillenbrand explores the rivers but never to their source.

True gratitude traces blessings back to their source, their ultimate source. True gratitude is Godward.

We see this kind of Godward gratitude very clearly in Psalm 136, which serves as a stark contrast to Hillenbrand’s essay. Psalm 136 has 26 verses, each with a unique statement that expresses thanksgiving to God followed by the repetition of, “for his steadfast love endures forever.”

The psalm starts with God,

1 Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,
    for his steadfast love endures forever.
2 Give thanks to the God of gods,
    for his steadfast love endures forever.
3 Give thanks to the Lord of lords,
    for his steadfast love endures forever;

And it ends with God,

26 Give thanks to the God of heaven,
    for his steadfast love endures forever.

And in the middle, the psalm thanks God for general things, such as

25 [It is] he who gives food to all flesh,
    for his steadfast love endures forever.

As well, the psalm thanks God for specifics things, such as

15 [he] overthrew Pharaoh and his host in the Red Sea,
    for his steadfast love endures forever;

This is Godward gratitude.

It’s gratitude that starts with God and ends with God. It’s gratitude that sees every blessing, the specific and the general, as gifts from a personal God—not an impersonal universe.

In two days, millions of people will celebrate Thanksgiving. We’ll sit around a table, we’ll eat a hearty meal, and we’ll (hopefully) express our gratitude. This is a good thing. It’s healthy to remind ourselves of the many blessings that we have received.

But this Thanksgiving, don’t make Hillenbrand’s mistake. Don’t make the mistake of failing to direct your gratitude towards God. Instead, trace your thanksgiving to it’s source.

As you go around the table to express your thanks, rather than simply saying, “This year, I’m so thankful for ___________,” instead say, “This year, I’m so thankful to God for ___________.”

It’s a subtle but huge difference. If you say this from your heart, not as a Christian cliché, it’s the difference between godless and Godward gratitude.

9 Quotes from THE JOY PROJECT by Tony Reinke

Yesterday I rode my bike past a church sign that said,

Happiness is not
the absence of difficulties
but the presence of God.

Typically, church signs are nothing more than clichés and sentimentality. Blah. But this one is pretty good. Yet we must ask, “If happiness comes from God’s presence, how do we get God’s presence?”

Tony Reinke wrote The Joy Project: A True Story of Inescapable Happiness to answer this question. The book was released earlier this week, and you can download the book free of charge, in three digital formats, at desiringGod.org/thejoyproject.

The book explores—no, celebrates!—God’s mission to bring his children infinite joy. And it does so through the theological framework called Calvinism or the doctrines of grace or the acronym TULIP (total depravity, unconditional election, limited atonement, irresistible grace, and perseverance of the saints). In fact, these five points serve as the scaffolding for the five central chapters of the book.

The Joy Project, however, is not a polemical fight. Rather, as I said above, it’s a celebration, and in this way it’s more in keeping with the Bible’s treatment of the subject—behold the beauty before bemoaning the controversies.

In the spring I read Five Points: Towards a Deeper Experience of God’s Grace by John Piper. It was a good book (and Reinke quotes from it a few times and Piper more than a few times), but I think The Joy Project is the book that I’d be more likely to give to the people in our church. I’m not saying it’s necessarily better, just perhaps more suited. 

Reinke wrote on his blog, “The Joy Project…fulfills of a dream of mine to write and publish a full book free of charge to the world.”

Thanks, Tony, for livin’ the dream. And thanks, Desiring God, for making it happen. And now may God use this book as a means to completing his joy project.

*     *     *

Below are a few of my favorite passages.

We conclude that the barriers to abiding joy are the unhealthy choices that clog our lives. The root problem, we think, is that we’re stuck in a rut of predictability and laziness, so we must unstick ourselves. We turn to self-improvement... We buy productivity apps for our phones. We resolve to become more “chill” parents, sexier spouses, better friend-winners, and more purposeful people-influencers. We need to sit less and walk more. We need to sleep more and eat less… We drink more water, less coffee, less soda. We buy organic, fair trade, rBGH-free, gluten-free, free-range. We pay off credit card debt and build our savings… We commit to staying on top of our e-mails, checking our phones less often, watching less television, visiting the library more, and reading our neglected stacks of books. (p. 2*)

Simply put, the driving motive in history is the desire for happiness. All sin, from slavery to prostitution to racism to terrorism to extortion to the sparks that ignite world wars—all are driven by a desire for happiness apart from God. (p. 13)

The greatest hazard we face is not intellectual atheism—denying that God exists. Our most desperate problem is affectional atheism—refusing to believe God is the object of our greatest and most enduring joy. This is the heart of our foolishness. The fool speaks from the depths of his affections and longings and declares: God is irrelevant (Ps. 14:1). (p. 13)

Even if we don’t feel them, the consequences are real. Our idols misshape our souls like drugs alter the facial features of a meth addict. Unlike a drug-ravaged face, whose degeneration can be captured by time-lapsed photos, we don’t see the drastic changes to our souls quite so readily, but this soul-distortion afflicts everyone who follows after the pleasures of sin. (p. 22)

We are dying sinners in desperate need of a spiritual double bypass surgery, but we spend our pocket change on double cheeseburgers. We get happy again with a momentary food buzz, but the temporary buzz is slowly killing us. (p. 25)

Left to ourselves, we are stuck in our total depravity. The centripetal force of our affections keeps us gazing at ourselves. We turn away from God for our joy, and turn toward all we have left: money, sex, power, personal affirmation, Facebook friends, Twitter followers, and Instagram “likes.” We use these old technologies (and we will use new technologies in the future) to tabulate our approval and then to use those metrics of approval to compare our popularity with others. When we do, we trade authentic glory for residual sludge. It’s like drinking mud. And we choke. (p. 33)

The cross did not merely make salvation possible. The cross is not like a single who secures a wedding date and reserves an elegant church years before finding a mate, hoping they will find someone in the meantime. No, Christ’s death secured salvation for the elect individually, by name. In his death, Christ effectually pursues a bride by entering the brothel of idolatry to grab hold of the elect, one by one, by name, and pulling them out from the bondage of sin. (pp. 55-56)

Anticipating unending joy in the presence of Christ changes everything. It means we can relinquish control over our lives. It means we have no fear of the future. It means all our pressing toward personal holiness is not in vain. God elects so that we will be conformed to the image of Christ, in his holiness and in his happiness. It will be done, and we strive and obey in this inescapable hope. (p. 99)

But of course you and I know better than to say we found joy. Rather, joy found us—sometimes slowly, sometimes at warp speed. That is the story of TULIP. Calvinism is the story of a long-planned, sovereign joy that finds you before you even see it coming. (p. 121)

* All pages numbers from the PDF version.

#thejoyproject

[Photo by john mcsporran / CC BY]

Chipotle’s Super Short Book Report Sweepstakes

Ode to Chipotle

Just over 13 years ago (4,869 days to be exact), I fell in love—with Chipotle burritos. Their size, their shape, their spice: all of it.

Our first date was on May 25, 2002 in Fort Collins, CO, and I think every month since then, on average, I have enjoyed a chicken fajita burrito with corn salsa and some other garnishes. That’s around 160 burritos or $1,100 worth. If you prefer to measure in calories, that’s around 175,000 … but who’s counting?

The Competition

If you’ve been to Chipotle in the last week, you might have noticed that they are holding a competition. It’s related to the “cultivating thoughts” series which is displayed on the side of soda cups and to-go bags. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, imagine a short story or thoughtful reflection, say 300 words or so, by a popular author. These words stare at you while you eat just begging to be discussed.

Now, back to this competition. It’s called the “Super Short Book Report Sweepstakes.” To enter, you must write—you guessed it—a super short book report for one of the entries in the series. And when they say “super short,” they mean it: just 103 characters. Maybe you’d like to contribute your own report. You can do so here, but you’ll have to hurry. The competition ends tomorrow (9/23/2015).

Laura Hillenbrand’s Ode to Chocolate

I chose to respond to Laura Hillenbrand’s entry. She’s the author of Unbroken (which I reviewed here) and Seabiscuit … and now, as well, the short essay “Two-Minute Ode to Chocolate.”

In her Ode, Hillenbrand traces the global web of activity that must take place for her to enjoy a single square of chocolate. The Ode, in its entirety, goes like this:

It is the simplest ritual of my noondays: A square of dark chocolate, little larger than a postage stamp. For its minuteness, I savor it all the more, closing my eyes as it melts gently, generously, in my mouth, as softly exquisite as a kiss.

Always, I think, I am grateful. In my mind, I follow my chocolate to its beginnings. I see a drop of rain touching red soil, and beneath, a seed waking. Leaves reaching for sifted sunlight. Careful, sure hands unclasping fruit from limbs. A kind donkey pulling a laden wagon. Wise faces bent over an ocean of seeds, summoning sweet from bitter. Roads and rivers and cunning machines that bear the chocolate to me. Someone built that wagon; someone cut that road; someone labored under a beaded brow; someone heeded an inspiration; someone offered love. How wondrous is a world that brings such gifts.

In my little ritual I am connected to that sunshine, those hands, that river, the beautiful alchemy that unites so much in a square of chocolate. A drop of rain that falls on the other side of the world, in a place whose language I may never hear, becomes sweetness on my tongue, thankfulness in my heart, words spilling from my pen, and perhaps a thought, however fleeting, in the mind of whoever reads them.

We are none of us bereft, ever. We slumber in seas of gifts. To wake up to them, to follow their tributaries, is to traverse in every direction, yet always arrive at the same place: Gratitude. Awakening from my chocolate, I look about and wonder: Whose hands made this? To whom do I owe thanks for the song of a wren? For the warmth of a sweater, cool grass under bare feet, the joy of dogs playing, laughter, a whispered I love you, the scent of bread?

I am grateful. I am grateful. I am grateful.

What I Love about It

There is a lot that I love about these 319 words.

I love the concreteness: a square (not a piece) of dark chocolate (not just chocolate); a drop of rain (singular) touching red soil (not the earth or ground); leaves reaching (they are not passive, they reach) for sifted sunlight (sifted implies a forest above); and so on.

And I love the idea of ritual, a word she uses twice. The ancients would climb high mountains to worship, and some of us still do; Hillenbrand eats a postage stamp of dark chocolate.

And I love the way she invites us to view this universe of beneficent activity that is required for mass produced chocolate: seeds, rain, sun, a kind donkey pulling a laden wagon, and oh, speaking of the wagon, “someone built that wagon; someone cut that road; someone labored under a beaded brow.” Indeed they did.

And I love the frequent, but not overdone, alliterations (e.g. melts gently, generously… sifted sunlight… seeds, summoning sweet... Roads and rivers…).

So What’s Missing?

There are other things I love, but the essay is missing something, something important. Did you notice it? I tried to bring this out in the “super short book report” which I submitted to Chipotle for the competition.

Here’s what I wrote: 

LH’s ODE TO CHOC explores the many tributaries that bring us gifts but misses Who is at the headwaters.

I capitalized the “w” intentionally. I love Hillenbrand’s prose, but she simply stops short; she traces these tributaries eloquently around the globe to farmers and seeds and donkeys and red soil and even to the heavens for rain. But while she traces them “in every direction,” her gratitude arrives nowhere, like a perpetual road trip without a destination. Hillenbrand explores the rivers but never to their source—even while asking all the right questions:

I look about and wonder: Whose hands made this? To whom do I owe thanks for the song of a wren? For the warmth of a sweater, cool grass under bare feet, the joy of dogs playing, laughter, a whispered I love you, the scent of bread?

Yes, she concludes with the right response, a tri-fold statement of gratitude: “I am grateful. I am grateful. I am grateful.” But are we so wrong to ask, “Grateful to whom?”

Hillenbrand doesn’t answer her rhetorical questions, but the Bible does. James writes, “Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:16-17).

Perhaps her statement, “How wondrous is a world that brings such gifts,” would be better written, “How wondrous is the God who gives such gifts.”

The Gospel Heals our Misplaced Gratitude

Look, I love Chipotle, I love chocolate, and I love authors who use words well. I’m thankful for these gifts, and a billion others, but what happens when we don’t locate our gratitude where we ought to? What happens if, like Hillenbrand, we don’t thank the right person?

Consider a student who received a full scholarship to college from a generous donor. Sure, this student should be thankful towards the school and the professors, the authors of his textbooks, the factory workers that produced them, and the trees that became paper. Of course, the student should be grateful for these. But at some point, you ought to thank the person who paid for your scholarship, the one who made the whole experience possible.

But my analogy is not strong enough; what if the person who gave the scholarship was also responsible for the knowledge of the professors and the production of the textbooks and the forests of trees and the rain that waters them and the workers and machines that cultivate them?

Now we are back at the central issue: ultimate gratitude to the One ultimately responsible.

Hillenbrand speaks of how “we slumber in seas of gifts,” but we might press the metaphor further: we are dead, and need more than the smelling salts of gratitude to awake us; we need resurrection.

That’s why I also love the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I love the gospel because God provides a way for sinners who misplace their gratitude to be forgiven, and for forgiven sinners to know Who is at the headwaters drenching us in delight.

#ssbrsweepstakes, [Photo]

Words and Deeds, and a Few Comments on Balance

Currently I am studying for my ordination exams in the Evangelical Free Church of America (EFCA). It’s a three-year process that has three major steps in it: one at the start, one at the end, and one in-between. The steps at the beginning and the end of the process are similar; each requires a long, doctrinal paper and an oral examination over that same paper. The difference between the two is that the first step requires a 20-page paper and a three-hour oral examination, while the last step is double that—40 pages of writing and a six-hour oral exam.

What’s the middle step? Three years of faithful, gospel ministry in the context of a local EFCA church.

Buy on Amazon

On May 21 of this year, I participated in the first step and passed. (If interested, you can read my paper here.)

While preparing for this step, I read Evangelical Convictions, which is an exposition of our denomination’s statement of faith. One place I found the book particularly helpful was in the discussion of the relationship between gospel deeds and gospel proclamation. When you hear “gospel deeds,” think of Christ-like acts of service in the church and the world. And when you hear “gospel proclamation,” think communicating the content of the gospel with words. To explain the relationship between the two, the authors of Evangelical Convictions use a musical analogy. They write:

Words often attributed to Francis of Assisi are frequently quoted in [regard to sharing the gospel]: “Preach the gospel all the time; if necessary use words.”

This is misstated, for our words are necessary, just as God’s words are necessary for us to understand his message. But it is true, nonetheless, that how we live provides the context for the content of the message we proclaim. It provides the music that accompanies the lyrics of the gospel—the music which helps to display the beauty of those lyrics to the world.

Thus, proclaiming the gospel in words and living the gospel through loving service to others ought to go hand in hand. Actions without words are insufficient, but words without action lack credibility. We declare God’s love to the world with more power when we also demonstrate that love in how we live. (Evangelical Convictions, 208)

This analogy—words and deeds likened to lyrics and music—is helpful. Gospel deeds by themselves are like instrumental music: good and beautiful, yet open to ambiguity and misinterpretation. And gospel words by themselves are like lyrics without a melody: good and true, yet all the more powerful when set to music.

A Few Comments on Balance

Perhaps you have heard serious debates about the tension between these two and which is more important: practice or proclamation? Should I shovel the snow in my neighbor’s driveway or should I invite them to a Bible Study? Should I volunteer at soup kitchens or hand out gospel tracts? Which is it, deeds or words?

Often in the debate, the word “primarily” is inserted to soften absoluteness—should Christians primarily be involved in gospel deeds or primarily in verbal gospel proclamation. This helps a little, but I agree with the authors of Evangelical Convictions; there is no ultimate tension between the two—words and deeds should go together like lyrics and music.

But just because they “go together,” I do not think our ultimate goal should be to “balance” them. I say this—that balance is not the goal—for three reasons.

First, how could we possibly know if we have just the right amount of each, the perfect balance of words and deeds? Sure, it’s possible to see gross imbalances, especially in others, but what “scale” shall we use to know when things are slightly off?

Second, balance—however it is measured—is something that must be measured over a period of time. For example, in a given moment, I might be engaged in a gospel practice, and in another moment verbal gospel proclamation. The only way to know that my life is “balancing” these two, practice and proclamation, is if you look at the period of time that includes both.

To use a different analogy, if I say, “I haven’t eaten anything in 10 hours!” you might think, “Whoa, that’s unhealthy and out of balance.” However, it might be very normal if when I said this it was 7am and I’d just had a good night’s sleep. We all have natural rhythms of eating and not eating, and in order to see if a person has a balanced diet you need to examine the right period of time. This is what I mean about words and deeds; you have to observe the right period of time. In different seasons, a person (or even a church or parachurch ministry), might rightly be focused more on one than the other.

Third, to complicate this even more, Christians exist in a body, a body made up of different members with different functions just like the human body (Romans 12:3-8; 1 Corinthians 12:12-31). Therefore, by God’s great design, some of us will be more inclined to word proclamation and some more to deed proclamation. We can see this clearly displayed in 1 Peter. At one point, Peter writes that all Christians are to “proclaim the excellencies” of God (2:9). Yet later in the epistle, Peter notes that some Christians will do this through speaking and others through service. “Whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies” (4:11).

For these reasons, to make balance the highest goal is not only impossible to evaluate, but the wrong goal altogether. Thus, I’m not so worried about how I balance the two in my own life, as much as I am concerned about obedience for this is Paul’s emphasis in Ephesians.

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love. (Ephesians 4:15-16)

Notice the phrase: “when each part is working properly.” The goal is not to make sure we are always in perfect balance, but perfect obedience so that together—the whole body—can sing gospel lyrics to the tune of gospel deeds. That’s the concert I want to be a part of.

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MOM ENOUGH edited by Tony and Karalee Reinke (FAN AND FLAME Book Reviews)

Tony and Karalee Reinke (editors). Mom Enough: The Fearless Mother’s Heart and Hope. Minneapolis, MN: Desiring God, 2014. 120 pp. $7.99.

Being a mom is a wonderful but difficult job. Too often Pinterest does in subtle ways what Victoria Secret does overtly—crush women under the weight of airbrushed unrealities.

But it’s not only Pinterest and Victoria Secret that can inflict damage. Sometimes damage comes from other moms. Innocent playgroups turn into competitions over who has the perfect, God-ordained way of preparing organic, gluten-free, low-carb snacks. And sometimes damage can even come from the Bible, or, at least, from the mishandling of it. For example, Proverbs 31—a chapter that celebrates women and mothers—can be (mis)taught so that it becomes just another crushing airbrushed unreality.

This is why I’m so thankful for books like Mom Enough: The Fearless Mother’s Heart and Hope edited by Tony and Karalee Reinke. It doesn’t make this mistake. Mom Enough doesn’t crush; it gives wings.

When I bought Mom Enough, I knew it was a collection of short essays from various women, all published authors. However, when I received the book and read in the preface that each entry was originally a blog post for Desiring God, I was a little disappointed. I love the ministry of Desiring God, but at first I was annoyed because the last book I read like this (blog posts turned into a book) was lousy. Mom Enough, however, is not lousy. It’s excellent. As soon as I finished the book, I bought three more to give away. And with Mother’s Day coming next month, there is still plenty of time for you to get several copies to do the same (here).

The title Mom Enough is taken from one of the book’s essays of the same name, which in turn, is a callback to the Time magazine article from the summer of 2012 that had those words on its cover. If you saw that cover, you’d remember it; it pictured a woman breastfeeding a toddler that looked like he was about a year away from kindergarten.

In the book, author Rachel Pieh Jones pointedly describes the “mom enough” battle.

From television, Facebook, blogs, and Pinterest, the message screamed at moms is this: unless you are fit to run marathons, breastfeed into the preschool years, own a spotless and creatively decorated home, tend a flourishing garden, prepare three home-cooked meals per day, work a high-powered job, and give your husband expert, sensual massages before bed, you are not mom enough. (Rachel Pieh Jones, Mom Enough, 19, emphasis original)

But Jones is waving the white flag.

From my perspective, however, the Mommy War is over. Done. Finished. Kaput. And I lost. I am not mom enough. Never was, never will be. (19-20)

Yet quitting the “mommy war” does not mean she is ceasing to fight.

But I am on the frontlines of another war. The battles are raging and the casualties could be my children, my husband, or myself. This war isn’t about me being mom enough. This war is about God being “God enough.” (20)

And this war—the fight of faith to believe that God is an all-satisfying fountain of joy and big enough and caring enough to help us in our daily lives—is a war that began long ago. This war started in a garden when a serpent implied that God wasn’t God enough and when Adam and Eve believed they would be happier if they went their own way.

Right now, my wife is pregnant, which I know is a difficult season for all women, but it is especially so for my wife. No, she won’t spend the entire time in the hospital (Lord willing), but during past pregnancies, we have certainly made a few visits for extreme dehydration because of constant vomiting. My wife is a warrior, that’s for sure. I try to help her as best as I can, but what Mom Enough reminded me is that what my wife needs most—and what I believe all Christians need most (mothers or not)—is to know that in the midst of the battle, God is always God enough.